The Cloudtop Room was the most famous speakeasy in Cloudsdale. Its greatest claim to fame was it's clientele. The Cloudtop Room was where the Wonderbolts came to drink.
Spitfire sat at the bar. She'd been hitting on Soarin' all night, and she'd finally managed to break through. He'd been flirting back, and laughing at the bawdy jokes that she'd been telling. That was a good sign. They'd been drinking hard, Spitfire was certain that she wasn't going to make it back to her house without crashing. Luckily, the Cloudtop Room had crash rooms in the back, one of which was usually reserved for the Wonderbolts. It'd give her a chance of scorin' with Soarin'.
"You... leave Soarin' alone!" Fleetfoot demanded.
Fleetfoot was drunker than Spitfire.
Normally, Spitfire would ignore this kind of thing. She knew that Fleetfoot had a crush on Soarin' as long she could remember. But, Soarin' himself had told her that he wasn't interested in the other Pegasus. Spitfire had no intention of letting Fleetfoot get in the way of her chances with Soarin'.
"Buzz off!" She shouted.
"You stay away from my stallion!" Fleetfoot shouted.
"What are going to do about it?" Spitfire replied.
"I'm not going to be your friend anymore!" Fleetfoot said.
There was an audible gasp throughout the room. Two ponies breaking off a friendship was something that almost never happened. It was a very serious thing. Spitfire didn't think that she'd ever lost a friend in anger before. Sure, she knew that Fleetfoot would sober up, and make up in the morning, but it still hurt.
"Hey, Flatfoot! Soarin' is mine! He isn't interested in you." Spitfire said.
She hadn't meant to say it like that. She'd been meaning to let Fleetfoot down slowly about Soarin' but the stress of the whole friend thing had too much for her. Fleetfoot looked at the bar for a few seconds, before placing her mouth around her glass. For a few seconds, Spitfire was sure that Fleetfoot was leaving.
Fleetfoot slammed her glass into side of the bar. She advanced on Spitfire.
Spitfire was terrified. She'd never imagined having to fight one of her friends before. Not to mention Fleetfoot having murder in her eyes...
Murder? Where had that come from? Never mind, it was the right word. She could feel the contempt flowing out of Fleetfoot, towards her. She ducked as Fleetfoot swung the glass at her. She had to get away. She had to flee. She broke through the cloud of the wall behind the bar, flying as hard as she could.
Fleetfoot was still coming at her, she could feel the hate and anger burning inside her from here. There was no going back now. They weren't going to be renewing their friendship over donuts from Donut Joe's Cloudsdale location in the morning. It was life or death. Only one Pegasus was emerging from this tangle alive.
No, she couldn't let that happen. Even with everything that happened, she still valued Fleetfoot's friendship. Spitfire had so few real friends that losing one of them would be devastating.
"How did you know my nickname from middle school!" Fleetfoot shouted. "How'd you like to have such a stupid name! My parent's were human conspiracy crazies! That's why they named me Fleetfoot! See, Human's supposedly called their hooves feet!"
Spitfire realized that Fleetfoot was a better drunk flier than she was. A lot better. Spitfire could barely keep herself level. Fleetfoot was still able to fly level, and turn. That gave her an advantage, although Fleetfoot seemed to be too drunk to realize that she had it. Spitefire made as coordinated of a turn as possible, and flew hard at Fleetfoot.
"Stop this! I want to be your friend! Take Soarin'! I don't want him if it's going to ruin our friendship!" Spitfire begged.
"Shut up! Shut up! This isn't about Soarin'! You Called Me Flatfoot! You Must Die!" Fleetfoot shouted.
Fleetfoot struck out at her with the broken glass in her mouth. She felt a stabbing sensation in her wing. She'd been hit. She gave a few powerful beats of her wings, which in her inebriated state sent her into a barrel roll. On the horizon, she saw her best chance at escape, The weather factory. It was staffed twenty four hours a day. If she could reach it, she'd be able to find somepony, and they could protect her.
Spitfire didn't like having to rely on other ponies for rescue, but even she was forced to admit that this was a situation behind her abilities to deal with. She'd never been attacked by another pony before, let alone by one of her friends. Ponies just didn't fight. Even on the odd chance that they did, they were very careful to avoid injuring each other. Pony philosophy on fighting was simple. Since every pony might want to be your friend tomorrow, you shouldn't do anything to interfere with that potential friendship.
She looked behind her. Fleetfoot was still advancing on her. She was faster, even though she was drunk. While some of that speed came from Fleetfoot's superior flying abilities, another part of it came from the fact that Spitfire was drunkenly zigzagging across the sky. She could barely keep on target.
She felt another burst of pain as Fleetfoot ran the broken glass over her left flank. Spitfire looked back. She put on a burst of speed, allowing her to buck the glass out of Fleetfoot's mouth. Maybe with the weapon gone, she'd call off the fight, and go home to sleep it off.
No such luck. Fleetfoot was still coming for her. She felt teeth digging into her left wingtip, ripping out feathers, and trying to crush bone. Reflexes ripped the wing away from Fleetfoot, sending her into another barrel roll. She tired to buck Fleetfoot agian, this time aiming at the pony herself.
She felt the buck connect, and she realized that she'd hit Fleetfoot in the head. The other Pegasus was dazed, and unable to fly. Fleetfoot went into an involuntary spin, and Spitfire dived after her.
Spitfire caught up to Flatfoot, and grabbed her. They were still falling, Spitfire had forgotten how drunk she was in her haste to save her friend. She didn't have enough strength or mental awareness to do anything but slow their descent to a safer speed. She hit the ground hard, with Fleetfoot on top of her.
She sat there stunned for a few seconds, before getting up enough strength to take off again. She needed to get away from Fleetfoot. Luckily, Fleetfoot was still stunned from the combination of the buck and impact. She looked up at Cloudsdale, glittering high overhead in the sky. It was the closest town, but in her state she couldn't fly up that high again, she didn't want to risk another crash from altitude. Canterlot posed the same sort of problem. Flying the approaches through the pass was just too dangerous.
That left one option, Ponyville. It was only about three hour flight to the south, although in her present condition she doubted she'd make it anytime before dawn. Spitfire wasn't the best distance flyer, although she'd participated in the sea to sea Pegasus relay in her youth. Flying a hundred and fifty miles beat certain death from staying put, or plunging down to her death from Cloudsdale, or even worse being impaled on a rock in Canterlot canyon.
Spitefire flew slowly along. It had been almost four hours, and it was almost dawn but not quite time for the sun to be raised. Spitfire estimated that she'd come over a hundred miles, all of it barely above treetop level. Although her first few hours had seen little progress, Spitfire was starting to sober up, and fly straight.
She passed abreast of Canterlot about a half hour ago. For a few minutes, she'd considered heading due east, and braving the canyon approaches, or even approaching the city from above. Then a gust of wind had blown her off course, and shown how she was still a little too tipsy.
She pumped her wings harder. She was in the homestretch now. She was flying over an apple orchard now. She could see apple trees lining the hills are as far as the eye could see. Ponyville was famous for its apples, so that meant that she had to be nearly there. She heard something behind her. Fleetfoot was flying straight at her.
"Stop! We can still be friends!" Spitfire begged.
"You called me Flatfoot!" Fleetfoot shouted. "There is no more us! You will die!"
Spitfire made an awkward landing in Ponyville town square just as Celestia rasied the sun. As the sun appeared in the sky high overhead, the town started to come to life. Spitfire hoped that someone would see them out of one of the windows that had opened overhead, but nopony had come down stairs yet.
She screamed in pain as Fleetfoot took a bite out of her flank. Her opponent was showing nothing more than animal instinct now, the slight she'd delivered to Fleetfoot was the other pony's only animating force. She tried to dodge a buck to the face, but she was too sore, too tired.
Fleetfoot had ripped a store sign off of one of the stores now, and she was running at her with it. It connected, skewering Spitfire. She screamed one last time in pain and panic, her mind unable to comprehend what had happened.
Rainbow Dash had been so angry yesterday that she'd spent the whole afternoon and evening pouting on a storm cloud. Eventually she'd fallen asleep on the cloud, and it'd been dark, and the cloud had been so comfortable, so she'd just spent the night.
Now, it was almost noon. Rainbow Dash was supposed to have started weather duty hours ago. She was always late, so it didn't really matter. Besides, in Equestria, jobs were for life, so it wasn't like they could just fire her. Rainbow Dash flew down to the ground, to see what the weather schedule was like. Even though she was the nominal team leader, she never bothered to memorize the schedule. Memory and other pursuits involving the brain weren't Dash's strong suit, and she was the first pony to admit it.
The town was deserted, and she wondered if something had happened. Luckily, she ran into a large crowd of ponies bordering town square. They were all staring at something, so she prepared to take off to get a better view.
Something was grabbing her tail. She turned around and saw Pinkie Pie.
"What's happening Pinkie?" Dash asked.
"I'm about to throw a party at Sugar Cube corner!" Pinkie said.
Dash felt Pinkie pulling her down a side street that would lead to the back entrance to Sugar Cube Corner.
"Pinkie, why are they all looking at town square?" Dash demanded.
"I dunno. That's boring. We're going to have a rockin' party!" Pinkie shouted.
If everypony was looking at town square, there had to be something truly cool out there. If there was something cool out there, then Dash had to see it. It was simple really. If there was something cool in town square, and it ended before she could escape from Pinkie's party, then she risked losing her status as the coolest pony in Ponyville. If She wasn't the coolest pony in Ponyville, she was nothing. She'd been nothing when her friends had decided to pull the Mare Do Well thing on her, and she couldn't live as nothing again. The pain had been too much, the idea of being a nobody was too painful. She'd kill herself before she ever let that happen again.
With a finally strong of her wings, Dash gathered enough force to pull above the crowd.
"Don't look Dash!" Pinkie shouted.
Town Square was empty, except for two ponies. She instantly recognized Spitfire, and Fleetfoot of the Wonderbolts. Fleetfoot was staring at Spitfire, and the crowd was staring at the two of them. For a few seconds, she wondered why Pinkie hadn't wanted her to look at the Wonderbolts. Then her mind started to detect that there was something wrong.
One of Spitfire's Cutie Marks had been almost ripped off of her flank. Even worse, she was laying in a pool of red liquid that had started to seep into the earth. Oh, Celestia! She had the sign from the sofa and quills store sticking out of her chest. No! Spitfire wasn't breathing. Finally, she noticed the dried blood coating the fur around Fleetfoot's jaw. Dash felt her wings fold, and she hit the ground hard on her head.