//------------------------------// // Ch.2: Falling // Story: Revenge is Bittersweet // by P-Berry //------------------------------// Chapter 2: Falling “I’m so excited! Finally, the day has come; my chance to prove myself; to show everypony that I’m the best flyer in Cloudsdale!” the blazing red filly in front of me rushed, her black hair whipping heftily. I gave her an encouraging smile: “I’m sure you’ll show ‘em.” Her green eyes began to shine as she focused me: “How was your flight test? Were you nervous too?” I nodded slightly embarrassed: “Of course I was! But that’s just normal, everypony’s a little nervous.” She stretched her wings complacently: “Well, I’m not nervous at all if you meant that!” I smiled amused: “I’m sure about that; you have no reason to be. Like you said: you’re one of the best flyers in Cloudsdale! And you’ve already proven that you’re capable of showing those ponies how it’s done.” A mustard, sturdy stallion peeked through a nearby door: “Firespark, you got two minutes!” he yelled at us, “Head to the main room, there you’ll receive a last instruction of what we await from you.” His strong voice faded and his head disappeared again. My daughter’s eyes widened, now showing a touch of nervousness: “Two minutes? Oh my gosh! Only two minutes!?” I gave her and encouraging smile: “Keep calm; both of us know that you can do it. I believe in you!” Her nervousness quickly turned into panic: “But what if I fail? I’d disappoint you; I’d disappoint all of Cloudsdale! What will happen to me? I’ve heard horrible stories about ponies who failed their flight tests: they got banned or … or even worse!” I put my hoof on her shoulder, calming her: “Hey, don’t you believe that. Those are just old mares-tales; nothing of that is true. … And even if you would fail: I’d still be proud of you!” She gave me an unbelieving look: “Really?” I leaned forward and softly kissed her forehead: “Really. But you won’t fail. You can do it and I believe in you. You’ll show everypony out there!” Her self-confidence slowly returned and, smiling confidently, she said: “I will. Thank you, dad.” I hugged her tightly, whispering into her ear: “I love you.” Giving her a soft shove towards the door, I added: “And now show ‘em what you can!” Before leaving the small room, she turned her head towards me and shouted: “I won’t disappoint you!” A confident smile on my face, I replied: “You never will; you can’t disappoint me!” Feeling with my daughter, I nervously trotted through the white hallways, looking for something that would signpost the way to the stands. I totally meant what I told her: she had been a talented flyer ever since her early foalhood and practiced almost every day after flight school; with only nine years, she was more experienced than other pegasi were in their late adulthood. I had no doubts that she would pass her test; then she’d finally be out of school and ready to live a life as a free pegasus. I held back a tear of pride: ever since I’ve divorced from her mother a couple of years ago, she seemed to be the only thing that made my life livable: her bubbly, but self-confident nature that always made me smile when I came home from an exhausting day at the weather patrol; her naturally challenging character that seemed to stain on me every time I felt helpless… It was just everything about her that made her that magnificent in my eyes. And it filled me with pride to know that her final exam was imminent; that she could finally prove herself worthy for this demanding society. The only thing that agitated me a bit was the thought that she may -despite everything- fail for some reason: I’ve never seen or heard what happened to foals who fail their test, but the most widespread opinion was that they were brought somewhere out of Cloudsdale -maybe even to the ground- then abandoned and turned adrift. Being ‘useless’ to the flock, as a pegasus has to be able to fly properly in order to live a life in Cloudsdale and serve the society, the dismissed attendees were shunned and hated by most of the other pegasi: in Cloudsdale, there was neither empathy, nor mercy for ponies that weren’t able to avail the flock. The daily life was focused on working: serving the flock and providing Equestria with weather were the two essentials; somepony’s personal feelings were redundant. According to the government, the flock was the only company a pegasus needed; classical families were a rarity. Indeed, the flock could be seen as some kind of family: as long as a pegasus did something for the society; as long as he spent his time on serving the flock and didn’t challenge its decisions, he was a part of the family: he was respected, integrated, yes even loved by his fellows. But exactly there was the rub: all the the kindness, all the charity; all those things were extremely limited: as long as a pegasus served the society and praised the flock, he was a beloved member of the family; however, as soon as soon as he showed even a touch of scruples about Cloudsdale’s principles or for some reason became unable to serve the society, he was expelled without a further warning; outcast and banned to the ground for the rest of his life. And this could be taken word-for-word; the legal system of Cloudsdale was merciless, especially when dealing with exiles: if a banned pegasus would ever dare to show up in Cloudsdale again, he would be imprisoned, then have his wings highly comminuted or even chopped off, and finally be thrown off the clouds. In the unlikely case of his survival, he would still be unable to fly and forced to lead a life as a -from a pegasus’ point of view- invalid pony. Living in Cloudsdale was seen as a privilege, and only those who did something for the society were allowed to enjoy this honor; everypony else was an outcast. ‘Serve the flock or go die in a hole!’, a lesson I learned early on. I honestly felt sorry for those who were banned, but -to put it simply- I had two options: I could either fight a losing battle by pressing for the rights of the outcasts, what would have finally resulted in me and Firespark getting banned, losing everything we had and having to start a new life as derelicts; or I could remain silent, ignore the dark sides of Cloudsdale, try to enjoy my life and hope for Firespark to assimilate into the society successfully. It’s a no-brainer that I chose the life in Cloudsdale, not at least because I wanted Firespark to grow up under halfway normal circumstances. Still, I wondered why -given that the failed pegasi were getting abandoned- none of the rejects had returned yet; why none of them had even tried. Despite the high danger of getting either killed or seriously injured, many of the banned pegasi returned after their banishment and tried to re-join the flock, for no pegasus lived on the ground willingly; a pegasus on the ground felt like a fish out of water: out of place, unnatural, helpless. Permanently living on the ground simply was against the outcasts’ nature: the desire to fly, to live a life in the sky, was elemental, and the incapability to please that need grinded on their sanity, making most of them either lose their mind and commit suicide after a few years, or start a desperate attempt to re-join the flock; it’s needless to say that most of the ponies who tried were captured and punished brutally. Certainly, the outcasts -given that they still were able to fly- could simply make themselves at home somewhere else in the sky and rebuild their lives out of Cloudsdale -the sky was almost endless after all- but in the long run, living all alone and far away from any kind of civilization was just as maddening as living on the ground. Simply put: the banned pegasi could choose whether they either wanted to risk going insane and finally killing themselves, or try to re-enter Cloudsdale; both possibilities had a high death rate. But nonetheless, I expected that at least one or two of the dismissed foals would return to Cloudsdale, not at least to beg for mercy. What happened to them anyways? All of my knowledge was based on rumors; stories getting told in bars or on the market, but there was no actually reliable explanation for the disappearance of the foals. The fate of the rejects seemed to be one of Cloudsdale’s most closely guarded secrets. I shook my head: I didn’t have to care about what happened to the rejected ones. I was certain that there were none that year, and even if there were: Firespark would definitely be the last one to fail. She would pass her test: that was essential, that was certain! Finally detecting an exit, I stepped onto the stands of the huge arena and took a seat on a nearby bench in the first row, tagged with the advice ‘Reserved for graduates’ parents’. I looked around in the coliseum-like stadium: It seemed like all of Cloudsdale was here; the stands were filled with hundreds of Pegasi, all looking to the middle of the arena and awaiting the beginning of the event. I searched the stands at the opposite side of the arena and quickly managed to spot her: there, in one of the first rows, she was sitting: Poppyshine, my ex-wife. Her crimson fur made her protrude from the mass of pegasi; her black hair slightly flapped in a breeze. A severe look in her eyes, she focused a gate in the bottom of the arena where the foals would step out to begin their tests. I didn’t look at her for a long time; I feared that she may spot me due to my conspicuous blue fur and uncommon blonde mane. It’s not that I didn’t like her anymore: we still were some kind of friends, but I was glad that Firespark -after we decided to leave it up to her whom she would like to live with- chose me: I felt like Poppyshine extorted our daughter way too much. Certainly, Firespark should explore her limits, but Poppyshine always urged her to be better than others at all cost, not really regarding the filly’s physical health; especially while she prepared herself for the flight test. I didn’t understand why everypony emphasized that stupid test anyways: if a pegasus could fly, what kind of permit did anypony have to question their skills and force them to participate in that test? That seemed to be just ridiculous! Shaking my head and clearing my thoughts, I concluded that all those regulations -the flight test, the strict rules within the flock, and the disparaging treatment of the failed attendees- simply were the rules of Cloudsdale: you didn’t have to like them, but you should learn to live with them. The system worked; asking questions would only cause disorder and provoke a ban. Music sounded from somewhere and interrupted my thoughts. I looked up and searched the stadium for the origin of it; my look got caught by the events at the other end of the stadium: Princess Celestia strutted on a balcony in the upper gallery and critically let her glance wander throughout the stadium. After a few seconds of silently eyeing her subjects through her cold, rose eyes, she finally commenced: “My dear subjects.” Her bitter voice echoed through the stadium, “I welcome you to the today’s flight test of Cloudsdale. Let us wish the graduates the best of luck. May we all be braced against the inflammatory thoughts of the mare I once used to call my sister!” She harshly said and stepped back under the shadow of the clouds. “DEATH TO THE TYRANT! YOUR REIGN WILL GO DOWN SOON! ALL HAIL TO THE REPUBLIC!” an enraged voice sounded from somewhere behind me. Celestia furiously span around and hastily searched the crowd for the origin of the voice. Not finding it, she yelled: “Say that to your leader’s face, you dirty rebel!” but nopony replied. Still looking angry, Celestia slowly stepped back and finally rested on a cloud. I sighed and looked to the ground melancholically: what happened to that country? Thirty years ago, when I was a colt, everything seemed to be fine, and now? Ponies got threatened, just because they said their opinion. I was afraid of the future: if the hostilities between the two Princesses would go on like that, a war would break out in a few weeks. A war that would be just as dooming for one of the Princesses as it was inevitable: neither of the rulers considered bargaining or even talking to the other one, and the tension between the Republic and the Empire increased every day; a war seemed to be the only way out. I just hoped that I wouldn’t have to join a side, or even fight: war had never solved any problems, war would never solve any problems; I actually thought that the Princesses were wise enough to know about that. My thoughts got interrupted again as an incisive voice sounded through nearby speakers. I looked at the balcony and saw the mustard stallion standing in front of a microphone: “I will now introduce the today’s jury.” he said and made a gesture towards a long table a few meters next to him. “As usual, we will have three ponies judging the graduates and deciding whether they deserve to live in this wonderful city.” He loudly explained and walked over to the table, continuing: “As every year, we have Rainbow Dash as the head of the jury!” He pointed to the cyan mare sitting on the left end of the table and smiling distantly. Acclaim aroused from the stands, cheering the captain of the Wonderbolts. She gave the audience a distant nod, not even trying to look appreciative. I sighed at the sight of her: she used to be in my class in flight school -you could have even called us friends- but with time, we more and more lost each other; I doubted that she’d even recognize me. She was one of the ponies who were influenced by the conflict the worst: I’ve seen her a couple of times after we graduated; her ambition quickly made her a very well-known flyer. After a few years however, I noticed something about my former friend: she still had her ambition, and her sense of humor couldn’t have been better, but I noticed a slight change in her behavior and appearance that got stronger every time I saw her: her smile wasn’t as expressional as it used to be, her laughter didn’t sound as hearty as it did in the past, and her eyes seemed to have lost a bit of their glance, while her hair spared and slowly grayed. I puzzled over those changes for a long time, for I saw no reason for her to behave that way: she had almost everything a pegasus could wish for: a well-paid job at the weather patrol, great friends, a beaming future … so what could she miss? I had no idea. But one day, just when I saw her clearing the sky, it dawned on me: her moves, that faint swinging of her legs, was nothing compared to what she did back in flight school. As I watched her doing her job and numbly kicking the clouds with the same drab expression she had every day, it suddenly came over me: she had lost her passion in life! Something seemed to have happened that made her act like a puppet and lose the joy in her everyday actions. But I didn’t dare to ask her about it: we hardly knew each other anymore, and just approaching her about something that personal would probably have ended with me getting a powerful kick into my stomach. Still, I was slightly worried about my former friend: compared to the mare I knew and liked in flight school, she was just an empty sleeve, just a phantom of what she used to be. Even on the day she got elected to the captain of the Wonderbolts -probably the most desirable office a pegasus could be charged with- her eyes didn’t shine like they did back when she was in flight school; she literally had to force out a smile. And that was even before the beginning of the conflict: back then, one year after the Republic was formed and I watched her sitting in the stadium, she was only a shadow of her former self: her formerly beautiful magenta eyes had lost their glance completely, her rainbow hair had turned dull, even though she was only a year older than me, and she hardly showed any emotions at all. It may have been caused by her job: after the Wonderbolts had been militarized and used as Celestia’s private guards, they were forced to do strict training every day, practicing to protect their tyrant leader in every possible situation and hardly having any time for flying freely, even less for enjoying it. The announcer interrupted my thoughts once again as he continued to introduce the jury: “And also as a regular member of the jury, we have Emberstripe!” he pointed towards a sturdy, black stallion with a straight, red mane and shiny red eyes, sitting in the middle of the table and looking just as emotionless as Rainbow Dash. I shivered upon seeing him: I couldn’t explain why -I’d never seen him before- but for some reason, this stallion made my skin crawl; there was some kind of rouge coldness in his red irises that simply frightened me. “And, for the first time in the jury, we have Halo Star!” the announcer pointed towards the last pony: a skinny, green stallion with a light-blue mane and cyan eyes. In opposite to the two other jury-members, he didn’t look distant or cold, he just glanced throughout the arena and smiled nervously. I wondered how he managed to enter the jury, for he was really young, he didn’t look like he was out of his early twenties yet. The mustard stallion began to speak again, announcing the first attendee; I drifted back into my thoughts: they already told me that Firespark would attend last of all, so there was no real reason for me to follow the test actively, I was sure that nopony would be better than my daughter anyways. Resting my head on my hoof, I watched the first attendee -a white filly with a golden, fluffy mane and violet eyes- rush through the tasks. I still knew them by heart from my flight test: ‘Clear’, ‘Fly’, ‘Fall’, ‘Complete’; my parents forced me to learn them all day back when I was a colt. Not a nice stage of life for me, not at all. Shivering from the memories of my hard foalhood, I watched the filly clear a bunch of clouds in to the middle of the arena, then fly through five stacked cloud-rings and finally rise up above the stadium, just to drop instantly and softly land on a cloud in front of the jury, her eyes widened in expectation as she awaited her judgment. Rainbow Dash and the black stallion nodded drably and held up their hooves, approving of her skills; Halo Star was the only one to give her a smile while confirming her success. She made a joyful jump and lifted her small body into the air again, flying to a gate at the opposite wall of the stadium and landing there, her face gleaming with pride. I couldn’t hold back an appreciating smile: she certainly was a good flyer, but I was sure that nopony could ever compete with my little Spark. I noticed some movement on the opposite gallery and saw the Princess slowly lifting off, rising up above the stadium, there mounting a big, golden sky chariot and quickly departing towards Canterlot. As all the eyes in the arena were tied to her, the announcer quickly focused the audience’s attention to the gate again, saying: “The Princess has some important business to do, she unfortunately can’t attend the contest any longer. We will now continue with the next attendee.” Without thinking about that early depart of the Princess further -she probably just had to issue another extortionate law- I leaned forward and watched the next attendee step through the gate and take off, heading towards a new bunch of clouds. The next attendees all mastered their tests without major issues and happily landed on the cloud next to the first filly. While the penultimate foal -a grayish colt- was just passing the rings, I saw Rainbow Dash lean over to Emberstripe and whisper something into his ear, her face looked surprisingly worried. The black stallion slowly nodded and now bent towards Halo Star, also whispering into his ear; the green pegasus’ eyes suddenly widened in disgust and he shook his head hastily. Emberstripe looked back at Rainbow Dash and shrugged confused. The cyan mare leaned past her fellow and gave Halo Star a threatening look, slowly moving her lips. His eyes widened even further and he stared at his two fellows in pure disbelief; a commanding gesture by Emberstripe made him turn his head and stare into the opposite stands rigidly. I wondered what Dash may have told him as I noticed her calling for the announcer. The yellow stallion stopped next to Rainbow Dash and leaned towards her; she mumbled something into his ear, probably the same thing she said to Emberstripe. He nodded quickly and went towards his microphone. Waiting for the attendee to land in front of the jury and receive their approval -Halo Star now wasn’t smiling anymore- he spoke up: “I’m sorry to tell you that we’ll have to interrupt the test for a short moment. It seems there’s something wrong with one of the rings.” the stallion’s strong voice sounded through the stadium. I seemed to be the only one to be surprised about that: those rings usually don’t break, and I couldn’t spot any kind of damage on even one of the rings. But I shoved my surprise aside: no matter when Firespark would perform, the essential was that she would perform! She would impress everypony with her skills and definitely get an instant job offer for the weather patrol; they just had to take her! She was the bucking best; nopony could mess with her! I hastily shook my head: I probably praised her to the skies way too much. Of course, she was a very talented flyer, but that didn’t mean that she was the unchallenged master in flying; she still was a filly after all. But I had no doubts that she would pass her test: some of the attendants were a good deal worse than her and passed the test anyways; Firespark would pass hooves down. Two Pegasi came from somewhere in the lower rings; they carried a second cloud-ring in their hooves and quickly replaced the fifth and last of the rings with it. As they disappeared through a gate in the bottom of the arena, the announcer continued: “Okay, now that this little issue is fixed, we can continue with our last attendee for the today’s test: Firespark.” I leaned forward to watch my daughter leave the gate where her former classmates had stepped through and lift her body into the air, a confident look on her face. She quickly approached the bunch of clouds and kicked them one another; the spot was cloud-free after a few seconds. Before heading towards the rings, Firespark hastily looked into my direction, her glance showed a touch of doubts. Trying to encourage her, I gave her a big smile and nodded motivating; the only thing I could do at the moment. It seemed to work though: even though our eyes met for a split-second only, I could see the insecurity in her eyes vanish and she speeded towards the five queued rings, rushing through the first one, then sidestepping and passing the second one almost immediately. As I noticed that every eye in the stadium was focused on her and the audience silenced in amazement, I had to force myself not to jump up and shout out my pride: that was her moment! She showed what she could do and, as a reward, earned the appreciation of an audience of hundreds of pegasi! In a minimum of time, she had passed the third and fourth ring and now speeded towards the last one, focusing it in determination. Then, it happened. Her right wing grazed the frame of the last ring; she staggered through the air erratically. My jaw dropped; my hopes and expectations seemed to shatter with a loud crack. Firespark desperately tried to regain her balance, but her right wing seemed to be injured; she tumbled through the arena for a few more seconds, but finally fell downward and landed hard on a single cloud a couple of feet underneath the stadium. Stunned by that sudden event, I stiffly looked at the jury: Rainbow Dash and Emberstripe already pointed their hooves downward soberly; Halo Star was still looking at the fallen attendee, his eyes widened in consternation. Emberstripe gave him a hard tap with his elbow and a harsh comment, making him hold his hoof down hesitantly; the horror he felt was clearly visible in his cyan eyes. For a second, my glance wandered over to the place where Poppyshine used to sit, but I noticed that she was gone; the ponies around her seat looked at the jury soberly and, after seeing their judgment, slowly got up and walked towards the exit; some of them even shouted Firespark down. Finally, I could free myself from my stiffness and slowly realized the issue: my daughter just failed her flight test! The one of whom I was convinced that she would kick some flank, that she would impress an entire city, just failed! Her expectations, her hopes, her future just … gone! My daughter, the best nine-year-old flyer Cloudsdale had ever seen, a failure! Worthless to the flock! An outcast! I couldn’t believe it! But the horror quickly got outdone by another feeling; a feeling that every parent knows, and that’s stronger than anything else on earth: stronger than the disappointment, stronger than the dismay, stronger than the frustration: concern. Concern about my daughter. Without thinking further, I lifted myself into the air and flew over the ceiling, dropping myself down and softly landing next to the crying red picture of misery. I put my hoof on her shoulder, making her look up and focus me with her tearstained eyes. “I disappointed you!” she shouted tearfully, “I disappointed everypony! I’m nothing but a worthless failure!” Without hesitating, I hugged her tightly and yelled: “Who the hell told you that nonsense!? You aren’t worthless! You disappointed nopony! I’m still proud of-“ my voice suddenly faded as I got torn back by my wings by something strong. “Step back from that failure!” the announcer pleated at me, tearing me away from my daughter and, together with a blue, sturdy pegasus, grabbing her body and carrying her away from the cloud. I span around a couple of times until I could control my flight again. Hurrying after the three ponies as fast as I could, but still flying terribly slow, since my wings still hurt from the hard grab of the announcer, I yelled: “Let her go! She isn’t a failure! She’s a bucking full-value pegasus! You bastards have no bucking permit to judge her!” They ignored me, flying away surprisingly fast. Firespark looked over her shoulder; not making an effort to struggle against the tight grip of the two strong stallions, she whiningly said: “I’m sorry, daddy. I gave my best.” I shook my head in pure horror, raising the last rests of power I had in my body and shouting: “THE BUCKING TEST ISN’T OVER YET! LET HER GO AND SHE’LL KICK YOUR GODDAMNED FLANKS!” They still remained silent and approached a windowless, black carriage. The announcer forcefully yanked the door open and threw the red filly inside. While he slammed the door powerfully, the blue stallion stepped in front of the carriage and departed, pulling the vehicle behind him. The announcer flew alongside the carriage for a few seconds, then turned around and headed back into the direction of the stadium. Just when he wanted to leave, his eyes widened as I hit him into his side powerfully, making him groan and fall for a few seconds; the rage certainly made me develop powers I couldn’t bring up under normal circumstances. Flying next to the rear end of the carriage, I desperately tried to open the door, but failed at the simple mechanism; even the simplest things become too complicated when you do them under rage. The announcer suddenly appeared next to me and gave my head a powerful stroke with his hoof, making me stumble backwards. “Nopony bucks with me!” he shouted furiously, “That failure will be processed! Every kind of attempt to interrupt that process is a punishable offense!” I shook my head to get rid of the dizziness and -too enraged to comment his speech- sped back onto him, giving his stomach a strong kick with my legs. He groaned for a short moment, but didn’t back out. Instead, he suddenly grabbed me with both of his strong forelegs and spun me around, making my back face him. Letting out a quick chuckle of superiority, he then damaged my wings with four powerful, targeted strikes and gave me a forceful kick into my spine. That was it. I fell, completely unable to do something about it; every attempt of moving my wings resulted in me letting out an involuntary scream of pain and tears flooding my eyes. The announcer let out a victorious grunter and smiled satisfied before departing into the direction of the stadium. My eyes widened in terror as I saw the black carriage disappear in the clouds and taking my daughter with it, while I both, literally and physically, fell out of the clouds.