Vvvrrooom!
The ground shook beneath their hooves. Rubber flew through the air, blackening the risen gates around the track. Wind whipped by, taking everything with it. The crowd roared, breathless and hot, stamping their hooves and screaming to the cars on the track. 2.5 miles of hot rubber. They snapped by again with a crash that would put thunder to shame. More bits of rubber showered the crowd and darkened their seats. Like lightning they crashed and disappeared, only to strike again. Hot blades of wind kicked up around them and sliced through the mass of ponies. Again, around the bend, whipping past and spinning acround the curve. The track, hot on their tires, rose up to meet them and they were gone in and instant.
Crowds of ponies gathered close to the fence. Their bodies brushed together, their ears pinned back against the clamor. For yards all one could see was the raised benches, the far back ones empty so that the mass of furry rainbows collected around the fences. Voices pierced the sky, drowned out only by the cars zooming by and then swelling once more to fill the stale air. They gleefully sucked it in. The burning track, the suffering heat, the breath of the ponies around them. Each pair of eyes wide and glued to the bright little figures, stark against the black track. The sun beat down against the crowd to wash them all into one massive wash of color.
VRROOOM!
They whipped by again. 2.5 miles. A hundred laps to go. The carts pulled around the corner, the pony inside slamming against his door. He yanked the wheel right and pulled the car away from the wall. With a grunt he was back on the petal, leaning against the gravity, the wind that blasted the car at the hood. It pulled him to and fro into the turn and he hit the door again.
Behind the driver was a sudden, piercing shriek. The cart pulled away from the wall and slammed into his backend. Metal screeched against metal, throwing both drivers against their wheels. Another force slammed into the left and the cluster backed into the wall. Smoke billowed out and covered the engines. Heat kicked through the exhaust and filled the seats.
More figures burst out of the cloud of smoke. They tore down the track and leaned into the turn. Engines spurred on, roaring louder than the hundreds of onlookers. Flashes on light met them like a wave all the way down the track. Cameras and screams and flashes. All for the carts as they whipped around and slammed the gas. Everything was focused on the road ahead of them. The tail end of the next cart. A way to get around. The driver cut the wheel, pulling out and entering the curve. Up against the tail end, gravity pulled them around the two met. Screeching and tearing away, the car ahead of her was yanked out and the middle met her front end. She slammed the brake, jerking against the wheel as it slammed into 48's side. She gave a grunt, the leather belt snapping against her shoulder. Muzzle smashed into the steering wheel, blood burst down her face and into her fur, she beat the front console and pressed harder into the breaks. All the while the world turned. It spun out of control and threw them into the metal wall. Sparks shot out and flew across the asphalt. Huge chunks of rubber tore away and went flying down the track. The screams grew impossibly loud as the two cars melded into one another, crashing again into the wall as they spun further down the track.
Torn away from the steering wheel, the driver was pushed into her center console. The gear shift jammed into her elbow just as they spun back. Tossed back against the door, they rolled to a stop against the end of the track. Bits of metal laid a trail, half a mile long. Chunks of the two carts littered the track after a thick, inky trail in the fence.
Another cart tore through the wreckage and beat his way down the path. Metal glinted in the sun, followed by three more. The head of the pack hit the pedal to the floor and flipped the corner, just barely pulling out before a stark yellow cart. Lights flashed above its head and the carts behind it slowed, barely missing it and filing up behind it.
The driver in the broken car shook her head, groaning and pulling away from her door. She looked ahead to number 48, the carts nearly welded together. Steam poured from the engine, filtering back toward her and darkening the cockpit. She coughed and put a hoof against the window, pulling herself up. Unhooking the net, she climbed out as medics raced across the field from the service pit. The lights above her smeared into one big, fuzzy canvas. The track was hot on her hooves. 14 stepped away from the car and stumbled toward the grass. Roaring crowds, flashing lights, dozens of engines carefully motoring by the debris. A medic shouted to her and she removed her helmet, the blood already drying on her muzzle. Her light purple mane dripped with sweat. slicked against her orange face. Wobbling on four legs, her wings buzzed until she stumbled into the medic.
"Scootaloo?" The voice was strange, foreign. A hoof wrapped around her shoulder and held her aloft. "Scootaloo, 14, can you hear me?"
"Huh?" She shouted over the dull throb in the back of her head. Screams and pounding hooves faded into a dull roar behind the rushing in her ears. "Yeah." Strong arms lead her back to the pit and down into a little cabin set up behind the service run. She sat on the bench and leaned back, groaning softly as her stiff muscles stretched across the tough fabric.
A medic worried over her until she shooed him away. In his place came two blazing magenta eyes. The cyan mare hovered above her and waited for her to focus. "What the hell were you doing out there?" Rainbow Dash threw her hooves out.
Scoots sat up, shaking her head. "What?" The dull throbbing filled her ears. Rainbow's voice echoed out to her, dim and confused.
"I said," the mare raised her voice, "what the hell were you thinking?" She lit down beside the bench, grabbing Scootaloo's head and turning it toward her.
"I didn't think you'd get out of your show in time to see." Scoots jerked her head away, groaning as the world swam around her. She fell back onto the bench, a hoof running up to her head. "I'm okay, really. Nothing too serious."
"I'm not worried about you, ya featherbrain!" Rainbow cracked her in the head, scowling menacingly. The wall behind her blurred against her silhouette and the colors washed away. Everything faded to grey around Rainbow until there was just her colorful mane and those scowling purple eyes. "I'm worried about the stallion they had to pry out of the race cart." Scoot's eyes crossed and she squinted at her friend. "You could have killed somepony."
"I didn't though."
"That isn't the point! This isn't a game for dirty tricks." Rainbow plucked at Scootaloo's blue costume, the yellow lightning sewn through the fabric waving as though it would strike down around them. "These clothes aren't just for play, kid."
"Please, you act like I didn't follow the rules." She yanked away from Rainbow Dash. "Last I checked, a wreck wasn't illegal."
"But it sure as hell shouldn't be strived for."
The door cracked open. Sunlight washed across the dim room, unsettling both of the mares standing in. A stallion with a short brown mane and a dark pair of glasses poked his head in. "We need you out here, Miss." He bit his lip and glanced out into the field, running his hoof down his cheek.
"I'm afraid that's my cue." Scootaloo leaped up from the bench. Blood rushed through her and blurred the world once again. The closer she stumbled to the sunlight, the starker the colors became. Finally emerging, she stepped out into the mass of crowds and engines. To her left was the site. Bits of metal were discarded in the grass, large chunks of it torn out of the ground and muddying the track. It had been cleared, only small bits of rubber now pulling out with the wind and shaking above the hot road. Cars whizzed past, unsettling the pieces and shooting them out across the grass, into the pit, out and over the crowd. Voices screamed from the wall of fur risen above the track, visible through thick metal bars that kept the crowd at bay. Some flashed from the sea of bodies surrounded Scootaloo, now emerging from the little shed. Most however, like a wave surging through the ponies, followed the lead driver.
A slick blue frame darted down the track. Four rubber tires tore up the asphalt, leaving skid marks behind him for the other drivers to chase. Outfitted with stickers and flags that no pony could see, it blurred into a blue streak that pulled away from the turns and shot down the track like a bolt of lightning. The fading sunlight glinted off the metal frame. The tired roared beneath it. The engine spurred with magic, turning the motors and spinning the gears at a breakneck speed. Pistons shot and steam flowed through the exhaust, leaving a trail of fine clouds bursting against the windshields behind him. Sleek and fast and tearing up the track, number 54 was in the lead.
Scootaloo watched him circle around once more. Her ears fell back and she followed her crewpony through the pit. A small section was walled off with short metal railings, the number 14 hanging from a plaque above it. "Wait, they restarted the race? Where's my cart?" The crewpony didn't stop by their pit. He wove his way through the center to an off track. There, melded into one another and steaming in the hot evening sun, were the two cars. Both empty, both still sputtering steam from every crevice, and both utterly dead.
The stallion took a measured step away. "You lost a lot on the track, Miss Scootaloo." He coughed nervously. "The crash forced the two together and we couldn't pry them apart. You're out of the race this time, Miss."
Her jaw hung, her eyes struggling to focus on the wreckage before her. One window was cracked on the bright red car. Once sleek and polished, the blue banner proudly displaying a little yellow pony figure with a cape. Now, that pony was etched away, leaving deep silver scratches and caved crests. The outline obliterated and the wall jutting up and pushing the window away. The plastic had snapped and pushed out in two jagged slabs, blackened from its run in the wall. The mesh on the other window was gone, on both cars. Gears and pistons lay spewing out from the smashed hood. The metal had buckled, pressing into one another with incredible force, the weak substance hadn't resisted. The other car fared no better, caved in on the side and pushing the second seat up and into the driver's. Luckily he had been removed; where to, Scootaloo wasn't sure.
A dull thumping came from behind her, shockingly loud against the deafening background. Rainbow Dash had barely lit down when the orange mare snapped off, stomping out of the scene. "Scoot!" RD called, hitting a hoof on the grass. "Come back here. You can't just storm away; you're a grown up now. Act like it!" She groan and slammed her hood against the floor, gritting her teeth. "Arrogant little..." She scuffed and threw herself into the sky dipping back and heading for the crowd to watch the race.
Scootaloo was already gone, trotting down the stairs to a little gateway under the track. Its walls rumbled and shook as the carts shot over it. The sound only drove her faster. WIngs snapping open, she hovered just an inch over the ground and buzzed up the steps. Large crowds swelled around her, surrounding the walkway and tripping her walk. Cheeks red, ears pinned back, she shouldered past them all and galloped out into the mile long stretch of market carts and trailers. Beyond that, the wagon lots and the tent grounds. Scootaloo stomped past them all, her head low, her wings tight against her sides, her eyes narrowed. The heat beat down her back through the lots and trailers, past a tall plastic banner suspended over the gate.
Its words, stark against the plain white banner, bid her farewell. It welcomed all others with:
WELCOME
WONDERBOLTS GRAND PRIX