//------------------------------// // Act I, Chapter 2: "Gilda, the Vengeful Samurai." // Story: F-Zero: MLPX // by Brony_Fife //------------------------------// Act I, Chapter 2 ~Gilda, the Vengeful Samurai~ The intense smell of the coffee met Rainbow Dash’s nostrils as she brought the mug upward. She let the drink wash over her tongue, almost scalding it. It didn’t taste nearly as good as it smelled, but then again, Rainbow Dash was never much of a coffee-lover like Scootaloo was. She just wanted the caffeine. The stitch on her shoulder ached, the rest of her body merely tired. She never liked the idea of removing foreign objects from herself, but she liked the idea of leaving them in even less. Rainbow Dash took another draw, this one slower, longer, deeper—letting the caffeine wash away the filth of fatigue. Rainbow Dash heard the familiar swoosh of the cockpit door and looked over from her pilot’s chair (not that she was actually piloting right now, but it did make her look cooler). Scootaloo came into the Falcon Flyer’s cockpit as the sun began to peek over Red Canyon’s mountainous spine, spilling reddish-orange light all over the floor. She was a rather tiny creature for fourteen years of age. Big, beautiful purple eyes that Rainbow Dash predicted will drive stallions crazy when she’s legal. Her tough-girl blue bomber jacket covered an orange pelt and a cute pair of goggles crowned her purple mane. The combat boots completed her look. She looked like she hadn’t slept very much—and she hadn’t. The “emergency surgery” she had to perform earlier that morning took too much concentration and Rainbow Dash squirmed so much she was honestly surprised she hadn’t pulled out any muscle tendons instead. Rainbow Dash returned her attention to the Red Canyon outside and smirked. “G’mornin’, Scoots.” Scootaloo gave her Captain a grumpy frown and sat down in the co-pilot’s seat. She turned her head and glowered at Rainbow Dash, waiting patiently for her to make eye contact. Finally, Rainbow Dash sighed with a wide grin. “Thank you for lending your excellent surgical skills, Dr. Scootaloo.” Scootaloo gave a sarcastic smile. “No problem,” she said unkindly. “You get hurt so often, I get plenty of practice.” More silence. Rainbow Dash clicked her tongue, her smile fading. “Scoots. You know this is my job. Risking my life fighting for other ponies.” She turned to meet Scootaloo’s eyes and motioned to her stitched-up shoulder. “This? This is part of the job. Taking a beating is just as natural as giving one, you know that.” “Doesn’t mean I gotta like it.” She turned to her console, thought for a moment, then looked sideways at Rainbow Dash. “It, uh… it was in pretty deep.” Rainbow Dash shivered at the memory of having to keep perfectly still as Scootaloo slowly pulled the debris out earlier that morning. Even with the anesthetic, just the sight of Scootaloo’s tools had caused her to panic and wriggle. Her shoulder still screamed from the operation earlier. “Your shoulder feel all right, Captain?” “Don't worry about it, Scoots. You did a great job.” She tousled Scootaloo’s mane affectionately. Scootaloo looked down at the destination coordinates, double-checking the Falcon Flyer’s status and current destination—same routine she did nearly every morning. Her eyes betrayed her conflicted emotions. Sensing some tension, Rainbow Dash poured her a cup of coffee. “No thanks,” Scootaloo said. “I’ll wait until we reach civilization and hit the closest Sugarcube Coffee.” “Tch. Snob. What’s wrong with Mountain Grind?” “It tastes like cigarette butts.” Rainbow Dash put the second cup of coffee down and looked at Scootaloo with a raised eyebrow and a punkish smirk. “How d’you know what cigarette butts taste like?” she asked playfully. Scootaloo quickly looked away and pretended to input instructions into her console. Rainbow Dash put down her own coffee and turned Scootaloo’s chair around to lock eyes. “Either you’re eating out of ash trays or you’ve been smoking. I wanna know where you got the cigs, ’coz I’m pretty sure I quit a little after we first met.” There was some silence before Scootaloo looked away. Finally, with some reluctance, she pulled open a nearby glove compartment and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. She quickly threw them to Rainbow Dash with an embarrassed and angry frown, then returned to her pretend-work. Rainbow Dash looked at the cigarette pack in her lap. Half the cigarettes were missing. She looked up to Scootaloo. “When did you start?” More silence. Scootaloo stopped. Shuddered. She heard Scootaloo sniffle. “Hey,” Rainbow Dash said, “Scoots. Scoots, I’m not judging you. I’m not here to tell you how to live your life. I just wanna know when you started smoking.” Scootaloo wiped at the tears that dared to form in her eyes. “...Last week.” Rainbow Dash raised an eyebrow. “Scoots, there’s like… half a pack in here. Half. You went through half a pack in just a week?” “I only smoked two, I swear!” Scootaloo said apprehensively. “I choked on them. Now just… just leave me alone.” With that, she released a sigh she didn’t realize she was holding and returned to monitoring the Falcon Flyer’s status. “I believe you,” Rainbow Dash said as she put the cigarettes down on the console next to her. She quickly did the math in her head. “You… got these off that guy I brought in some weeks ago, right?” She shook her head as she looked up to the pair of tacky red fuzzy dice dangling from the clock over the cockpit window. “That guy smoked like a chimney.” At this, Scootaloo suppressed an adorable snort. Scootaloo looked to Rainbow Dash with a big toothy grin. “Of course, that’s exactly what happened, right?” There was the perky, fun Scootaloo Rainbow Dash was looking for! Just needed to be coaxed out of her shell. “I still stand by that fact,” Rainbow Dash argued. “That’s what happened.” Scootaloo laughed. “Oh sure,” she said sarcastically, “You just tried to pull that silly Megaton Punch of yours, botched it as usual, and knocked over all those light fixtures, which started a chain reaction that caused an ember to land on his beard, thereby setting him on fire.” “That’s exactly what happened!” Rainbow Dash asserted with a pointed hoof. “I swear! You know everypony calls him Captain Firebeard now because of how I brought him in. I gave him an awesome nickname!” “Through dumb luck, apparently.” “You call it dumb luck. I call it ser... sera... uh...” Scootaloo rolled her eyes. “Serendipity.” Rainbow Dash took another sip of her coffee. “Yeah, serendrippiny.” Scootaloo shrugged and sighed hopelessly. Her eyes flicked back to the console, then to Rainbow Dash—specifically the stitch on her shoulder. She put her eyes back to the monitor before her. “So, uh… didja try the Megaton Punch again this time?” Rainbow Dash smiled. “Hey, it set a minotaur on fire last time I used it.” Scootaloo threw her head back and groaned humorously. “Dammit, Captain, when are you going to grow up? The Megaton Punch is something out of those silly chop-sockey movies you’re always watching.” Rainbow Dash set her coffee mug down dramatically. “Hey, hey, hey, hey. The Megaton Punch is an actual, real life technique perfected by martial arts master Fuji Apple.” Scootaloo rolled her eyes as Rainbow Dash went into specific detail about the move, how to perform it, its history, and so on. It surprised Scootaloo that Rainbow Dash didn’t know very much when it came to general things that would be useful in life (like math), yet knew everything when it came to violence and street smarts. She chalked it up to Rainbow Dash being a brilliant study—but only when it came to topics she found interesting. “So, are we skipping the part where Fuji Apple was actually an actress?” Scootaloo asked. “An actress who became infamous for starring in low-budget, direct-to-DVD B-movies?” Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes. “Hey, Scoots, don’t be like that. Hollywood just has no appreciation for the finer arts. Fuji Apple was an honest-to-Celestia martial artist.” She turned her attention out at the beautiful sunrise that colored the Red Canyon various shades of purple and orange. “And the Megaton Punch is an honest-to-Celestia real martial art move she created and perfected.” “Yeah, you keep on believing that, Captain.” “Hey, I did my research on this one, Scoots. The Megaton Punch is completely possible.” Scootaloo raised an eyebrow. “So then why haven’t you been able to perform it?” Rainbow Dash finished her coffee before slowly turning to Scootaloo. “I just need to keep practicing. Fuji didn’t master it right away either. It’s how you become a master, you know.” She blinked. “Like how you’re so good with machines. Or surgery. You just keep doing it over and over until it’s second nature.” Same answer every time. Scootaloo rolled her eyes again. Denial. Rainbow Dash was simply in denial—if only because of her own hypocrisy. Rainbow Dash got by mostly on her good luck, her “serendipity”, never by any real talent. She never really practiced fighting, if only because fighting was already a second-nature to her anyway. It was the main reason Scootaloo worried about her so much. One of these days, that luck Rainbow Dash depended on so heavily was going to run out. And then what? Scootaloo dreaded the thought. Her eyes and thoughts wandered to the cigarette pack sitting on the coffee table. She wasn’t even mad, she thought. She didn’t even try to stop me, or punish me at all. Scootaloo wondered which one of them was the grownup. It wasn't the first time the question crossed her mind. She released a small, bothered sigh. Suddenly, her monitor began to blink red and beep loudly. “What’s wrong?” asked Rainbow Dash. Scootaloo looked more closely at her monitor. “One of the escape pods just launched.” Rainbow Dash cursed as she got up. “Looks like Leeroy’s giving us more trouble,” she muttered as she walked across the cockpit. “What do you want me to do?” asked Scootaloo. “Keep flying to Mute City,” Rainbow Dash said over her shoulder. “I’ll meet you there. Keep your intercom open in case anything changes; you know the drill!” With that, the cockpit door closed behind her, leaving Scootaloo alone with a pot of bad coffee and a half-empty pack of cigarettes as company. Escape pods were only meant as emergency vehicles, never built for anything more than to be ejected from the ship, unnoticed by the enemy. The Falcon Flyer’s escape pods weren’t built for the kind of speed Leeroy Brown needed to escape a machine as fast as the Blue Falcon—and the fact that he was hasty and set no coordinates for the pod's computer made it difficult to commandeer the pod. It skittered and bumbled over the Red Canyon’s hammered earth, shooting into a direction opposite the Falcon Flyer, kicking up dust around its colorless, ovoid self. Leeroy looked behind him and bade the Flyer and her demented occupants a hard-hearted farewell. “Crazy mare,” he muttered. “Didn’t even check fer the razor I keep in my shoe.” His confident smirk burned away the moment he saw the Blue Falcon descend onto the desert floor. He pressed down on the gas, only to curse when he noticed the pod couldn’t speed up. Leeroy looked around, quickly searching for some kind of cave or something to lose her in. Before he could find anything, bolts of light struck the ground around him. Looking aside, Leeroy noticed the Blue Falcon had opened fire on him. The more he tried to maneuver the pod, the more he began to panic as lasers struck the sun-baked ground all around him. A crackling voice came over his intercom. “That escape pod’s for emergencies only,” said Rainbow Dash. “Not to mention kind of expensive to replace. I’d rather not have to trash it, Leeroy.” Leeroy spoke back into the squawkbox. “You’ll have to! I ain’t gettin’ taken in!” Rainbow Dash’s response was delivered with laser shots from the Blue Falcon’s built-in guns. Leeroy panicked at first at all the dirt being flung about from the missed shots... only to realize that all the shots were misses. He smirked. Rainbow Dash growled and attempted to focus. Gunning was simply never one of her fortes. Much like almost everything besides the planning and brute force, guns were more Scootaloo's thing. But as luck would have it, a beam got the side of the pod, throwing Leeroy for a loop before crashing into a cliff. As the dust settled, the Blue Falcon slowed down and came to a stop. The cockpit’s windshield drew back, allowing the oppressively hot Red Canyon air to wash over Rainbow Dash. She exited the Falcon and trotted angrily toward the remains of the escape pod, cursing under her breath. Looked like she’d have to spend some of that reward money on a new pod. Leeroy staggered out of the wreck. The moment he saw her coming near, Leeroy turned and fled. Rainbow Dash groaned and clambered back into the Blue Falcon and brought him back to life. She decided to take it leisurely this time, since nopony could outrun the Blue Falcon even on his worst day. Leeroy Brown came back into sight, galloping across the Red Canyon. The image reminded Rainbow Dash of those old Westerns she liked to watch (when there weren’t any karate movies on). That image was about all Rainbow Dash saw of Leeroy Brown before he was sniped straight through the head. Rainbow Dash’s eyes widened as she heard the familiar crack—the very same hard-iron lightning she heard erupt from Blackjack’s revolver six times last night. Leeroy Brown’s body silently fell to the dusty ground, and the world didn’t exactly care. Well, the world minus two flightless pegasi who needed him alive in order to receive reward money. When it registered in her mind that Leeroy Brown had been gunned down, Rainbow Dash let out another frustrated groan followed by a loud curse. Judging from the direction and way Leeroy Brown fell, the bullet must have been shot from one of the cliffs. As she turned to look up, a fleet of large red rocks came crashing down from a clifftop. Rainbow Dash cursed for the second time in as many minutes as she swerved and hit the brakes. The Blue Falcon skidded to a halt, coming dangerously close to becoming a blue pancake as huge red rocks rolled into the valley and blocked the forward path. She heard whooping and hollering from outside the Blue Falcon. She looked in its direction, and, sure enough, Rainbow Dash saw a group of her least-favorite kind of people in the world—bandits. And not just any bandits, either. These were Griffons. Long after their empire went to pot following a bloody and politically self-destructive civil war, the Griffons flocked to Equestria for the chance at a new start. But Equestrian society demanded things like working to eat and personal sacrifices for the good of the many—things Griffons weren’t exactly too keen on. The political turmoil eventually erupted into outright acts of terrorism, with entire Griffon neighborhoods forming gangs and burning down non-Griffon neighborhoods. The entire situation became so out of control that the only way the Princesses could resolve it was with a Royal Decree casting the Griffons into reservations set in the Red Canyon. Some took to bullying and extorting the local villages or intimidating the Buffalo tribes who owned the Red Canyon’s desert land long before they did. Others took to simply harassing anyone who had the audacity to have been born a pony. The Griffons landed around the Blue Falcon. They were adorned in whatever rags they could find, salvage, or steal, carrying the same outdated weapons as most others in the Red Canyon. They whooped and shouted and jeered—one even went so far as to lick the Blue Falcon's windshield, drawing a scowl out of Rainbow Dash. She breathed a tired sigh as their leader came into sight, and cursed. She set her squawkbox to the Falcon Flyer. “Hey, Scoots, Captain here. We got a problem.” Their leader knocked on the cockpit windshield while her fellows aimed their guns at it. Rainbow Dash snorted and drew the windshield back. She looked their leader in the eye. She wasn’t as big a Griffon as some of her group, but she was definitely the meanest-looking. The shiny black sunglasses disguised a pair of conniving yellow eyes while her helmet hid a boyish feathercut. Her sleeveless leather jacket was just as dirty and banged-up as anything else scavenged in Red Canyon, but the Neighponese red sun that adorned her t-shirt always stuck out to Rainbow Dash the most when she and Gilda would cross swords. “Rainbow Dash,” Gilda said slowly as she smirked. “Long time no see.” “Hey, Gilda,” Rainbow Dash said. Their tones carried the conversation almost casually, as if Rainbow Dash wasn’t being threatened at all. “Sorry about your latest boyfriend,” Gilda said as she walked around the Blue Falcon. The sun glistened off the Neighponese sword that hung at her side. Rainbow Dash blinked, and in that split second of darkness saw that same sword as it became a wave of silver, a terrifying single swing that made no sound. She wetted her lips. “He wasn’t my boyfriend,” Rainbow Dash corrected. “He was a bounty.” The bandits shared a laugh. “Oh, a bounty?” Gilda said from behind the Falcon. “How much he worth?” “Nothing now,” Rainbow Dash said. “He was supposed to be brought back alive. Missing person and all that.” The bandits laughed even harder. Gilda stopped circling the Blue Falcon and looked Rainbow Dash in the eye. She lowered her sunglasses, her yellow eyes like a pair of burning embers in the caves of her skull. Her talon went from her sunglasses to softly stroking the Blue Falcon, never breaking eye contact with Rainbow Dash. “Nice machine ya got here, Dash,” she purred, changing the subject. Rainbow Dash’s scowl doubled. It was like watching another girl flirt with her boyfriend: a stallion-eater at work acquiring her prey. All it took was a blink. A blink and Gilda’s sword became that same noiseless silver wave, stopping just before it could decapitate Rainbow Dash. She flinched. Rainbow Dash—a mare who prided herself on being fearless—flinched. A long smile carved itself onto Gilda’s beak as she saw the split-second of fear in Rainbow Dash’s eyes and held the sword with one claw to her neck. “I think it’s too good for a pony.” Tense silence. Rainbow Dash felt the blade slide away from her neck and onto her side. “In fact, why don’t I just take it?” Gilda asked, her bandit buddies cheering in agreement. The blade of the sword rubbed against one of the knobs it left behind years ago. “Because you pride yourself on being an honorable bandit,” Rainbow Dash said, her voice quiet and struggling for control. “That’s true,” Gilda said, putting her sword back up to Rainbow Dash’s neck. “But you’re no honorable bounty hunter. You’re a pony. Your parents tossed mine into a desert. You’re scum. Like the rest of ’em.” The other bandits laughed. “Maybe,” Rainbow Dash said coolly. “Can’t deny that, but it’s something I’m working on.” Gilda raised an eyebrow. “It’s been a good seven years since we last met,” Rainbow Dash continued. “That’s a long time for a pony to change.” Rainbow Dash tried not to look at that sword, tried not to remember the soundless silver wave or the terrifying, cold, almost electrifying feeling of her wings leaving her body. She kept her eyes busy by looking into Gilda’s. “If you’re as honorable as you say, then please grant me the chance to prove that I’ve changed.” A pause. Rainbow Dash held her peace as the blade was slowly drawn away and sheathed. Gilda turned her head to one of her fellows—a skinny Griffon with a long white jacket and a blue helmet. “Call the Stingray,” she commanded. As the bandit removed a walkie-talkie and began speaking into it, Gilda looked back to Rainbow Dash. A long roar started out quietly but grew as a pink dot in the distance came nearer. As it drew closer, Rainbow Dash realized it was a vehicle—roundish, hot pink with orange on the sides. Looks like someone painted fire on it. Likely the bandits’ touch. The bandits cheered as the pink machine slowed to a stop behind Gilda. “All right, I’ll give you a chance,” she said, “but only one.” Another Griffon bandit crawled out of the pink machine and tossed Gilda the ignition key. She smiled at Rainbow Dash as she took a step backward, into the cockpit of the pink machine. “This here’s the Fire Stingray,” she said, motioning down toward the machine she stood in. “I stole it just yesterday. Haven't gotten to try it out yet. I think your machine'll make some fine practice.” The bandits jeered. One kicked the Blue Falcon’s side in mockery. Gilda waved a talon to command her bandits into obedience, then continued. She pointed to a small mountain in the distance. “First one to that mountain!” she shouted. “Whoever wins gets the loser’s machine!” The bandits cheered. Rainbow Dash smirked and waited until the cheering died down. “I’m gonna make a bet,” she said. Gilda cocked her head. “Oh, what? My challenge not cool enough for Little Miss Bounty Hunter?” Rainbow Dash clicked her tongue. “How about, instead of ‘whoever reaches that little mountain’…” She looked Gilda right in the eye. “It’s ‘whoever makes it out of Red Canyon first’?” Gilda paused. Then she threw her head back and laughed as her bandits jeered at Rainbow Dash’s bet. “You serious?” she shouted. “You’re gonna wager you can make it outta this whole desert alive? You think I’m gonna just let you ride on outta here?” Rainbow Dash snorted. “S’matter, Gilda? You chicken?” The bandits all let out a collective quiet oooh as Gilda scowled at Rainbow Dash’s casually racist remark. “You’re on, you little shit!” she roared as she dropped into her cockpit. The dark blue windshield clamped down with a pop. The bandits then cleared the way for the machines to race, one small Griffon holding a checkered flag. Rainbow Dash smiled and closed her cockpit. Rainbow Dash looked to Gilda with a determined smile. “Show me your moves,” she dared as the Blue Falcon and Fire Stingray screamed and roared to life. The little Griffon with the checkered flag waited a few seconds, listening to the two machines growl at each other. He shivered in anticipation as he raised the checkered flag, held it there for a second, then brought it down quickly. With a shriek, the two machines were off. Gilda kept her eyes on the rocky terrain, moving forward with terrifying speed. She began to breathe faster and faster, in total disbelief at how fast she was ripping across the Red Canyon. Her eyes flicked to the kilometer-count shown on the screen. Four digit speed. She’d driven vehicles before, but nothing like this beautiful, modern monster. Every twitch of her talons sent the Fire Stingray wherever she wanted. Easing up on the gas pedals allowed the Fire Stingray to float, making its turns sharper. She was in perfect sync with this blazing beast. Gilda finally found herself agreeing with Rainbow Dash on something. Modern machines were freakin’ awesome. She laughed aloud as she glanced aside to watch for the Blue Falcon. She kept herself alert for several seconds, only to realize the Blue Falcon was nowhere near her. Was the Blue Falcon really that slow a machine, or…? Then it clicked. A long and unamused frown pulled at the corners of Gilda’s face as she realized she’d been had. Rainbow Dash had turned tail and merely sped into the opposite direction. She probably wasn’t even racing at all. But that didn’t make sense. Gilda knew Rainbow Dash never backed down from a challenge. Ever. Especially not a challenge she herself made. Gilda heard a series of beeps, drawing her attention to the small monitor next to her squawkbox. It previewed an available frequency. Guessing it was the Blue Falcon, she tapped it and the squawkbox came to life. She spoke and raced along at the same time. “Hey, doofus! What happened to our race? You chicken?” “Said the half-bird,” came the reply. “I said the bet was that I could exit Red Canyon before you could. Look up.” With a glance, Gilda saw the Falcon Flyer soar above her, casting her shadow on the craggy Red Canyon below. Rainbow Dash laughed over the intercom. “That’s—that’s cheating!” Gilda growled. “Not really,” Rainbow Dash retorted. “I’m exiting Red Canyon before you can stop me. I never said how I’d do it. You just got chumped,chump!” Gilda scrambled for something to say, but the Falcon Flyer flew further ahead, picking up awesome amounts of speed. It became a speck in the distance by the time the Fire Stingray reached the mountain Gilda originally named the finish line. The Fire Stingray slowed to a stop. Its cockpit opened with a soft hiss and Gilda crawled out, looking out to the Falcon Flyer as it became smaller and smaller before finally vanishing into the sky. She heaved a sigh as she heard her bandits fly near and land. She felt a talon rest on her shoulder. “Boss?” In a flash, Gilda turned and her sword became that whispering wave of silver. If her goon hadn’t ducked in time, he’d have found himself a whole head shorter. Still, she’d given him a nice buzz cut. Gilda sheathed her sword as her bandits took a few steps away, cowering from their boss’ temper tantrum. She breathed harder and harder, then slower... deeper... slower... When she achieved a more peaceful breathing rhythm, she turned to the Fire Stingray. She kicked it and cursed. “No stupid scumbag pony makes a chump outta me!” she shouted at her group. The bandits all looked at each other in uncertainty, but nodded in agreement out of fear. Gilda looked out into the distance, where the Falcon Flyer had disappeared. East. The closest city that far eastward would be Mute City. She nodded and licked her beak. “Pack your things, guys,” Gilda commanded. “We got ourselves a falcon to chase.”