//------------------------------// // Midnight vs. Spitfire // Story: Fight Club // by xTSGx //------------------------------// For copyright/disclaimer information, see the prologue.   Chapter Five: Midnight vs. Spitfire “You're out of your mind,” She had her suspicions for a while, but this was the damning evidence she needed. Irrevocable prove that he was several cards short of a full deck, that his marbles had been totally misplaced and forgotten, that... that... some other idiom for going insane.   Bill's eye twitched ever so slightly. Sometimes, he wondered why he even bothered with that bat pony. She was more hassle than she was worth. Okay, that was actually incredibly incorrect. She was worth significantly more than any amount of hassle. The Benefactors would kill him—and it was distinctly possible that was not hyperbole—if he let their golden goose slip by.   “Miss Dream, surely you've guessed these fights would only get harder as we approached the championship? The days of fighting no name guardponies are long over. It's time to step it up.”   “Spitfire?! Spitfire. You want me to fight the Captain—the commander of an entire section of Equestria's military—of the Wonderbolts,” Midnight briefly put a hoof to her forehead to try and quell the oncoming headache, “The Wonderbolts!”   Bill shrugged, “And? You're telling me you're fine with fighting Night Guard personnel but draw the line at the team that can't even run their own training program without nearly killing the Elements of Harmony?”   Midnight pointed the hoof at Bill, “You know full well I've never been fine with fighting highly trained members of the military. It's a miracle I've come this far and now you want me to go against a Captain of the Guard?!”   “Would you rather it be a Captain-General?” He was sure Solar Eclipse would be more than happy to lend a hoof.   Midnight glared at her manager. As if one step below a Captain of the Guard was any better, “I'd rather fight a normal pony. Aren't there any bakers or janitors, or—”   “Gardeners?” her glare intensified, “No, I'm afraid at this stage all those are long since gone. You could say you're the only 'normal' pony left,” he smiled, “Somewhat ironically—what with you being undefeated and all—you're still considered the underdog,” And boy do ponies pay to root for underdogs.   “That makes me feel so much better,” If there was one positive thing she could get out of Bill, it was that he had really helped her hone her sarcasm. She sighed, “There's nopony else?” There had to be. The league was all over the country. It couldn't just be down to a few ponies.   “Oh, there's plenty of other ponies,” Bill looked up as if in thought, “Let's see, Rainbow Dash—she's still undefeated as well,” Midnight winced, “Would make for a great match. Then there's Solar Eclipse—she's second in command of the Night Guard,” the wince turned to a scowl, “Lightning Dust—also undefeated. Not to mention reckless. She's the one who nearly killed the Elements of Harmony. And—”   “Fine! I get your point,” she mumbled.   Good. He didn't have any intention of letting her weasel her gray butt out of this fight. The Benefactors had already invested far, far more than they ever had before into this match and he wasn't about to fly to Canterlot Castle and tell them that investment was now useless. And just to make sure she didn't try to back out, “This is a big fight, Miss Dream. You could even say it's the quarterfinals. It's so big, we're tripling the pay for the winner.”   Midnight's eyes widened, “T-Tripling?” That was more than Sports Weekly had paid her. She could almost pay off her cottage with that kind of cash. She bit her lip. That was a lot of money for a few hours work. A few hours work fighting one of the most highly trained ponies in the country. A pony who'd almost certainly crush her—and given how the previous fights had gone—most likely literally.   Was it really worth risking getting turned into a decorative bat pony throw rug? “So where's the fight going to happen?” Gray and purple rugs were in season this time of year.   That bat pony was too easy to convince. Jiggle a hooffull of bits in front of her and she'd walk to Tartarus and back, “Well, I've got a treat I think you'll enjoy. Remember those warehouses?”   She nearly collapsed into a deflated pile of gray fur with all the air she let out with the sigh. More Luna-damned warehouses? Enough! She got it. He had a thing for the giant structures. He probably built little models of them and slept with one under his pillow. But she could die happy if she never saw the interior of another one.   “Given that overly dramatic reaction, I'm sure you'll be happy to know this fight won't be taking place in one.”   She immediately brightened, fluttering off the ground momentary, “Really?”   “Oh, yes. Since you're fighting Miss Spitfire, the league's decided to really go all-in with this fight. Ratings and what not. First, it's going to take place in Cloudsdale, as opposed to the relatively sterile environment of Hollow Shades.”   She'd never been to Cloudsdale, and, unlike unicorns or earth ponies, she could actually go. Cloud walking wasn't just instinctual for pegasi. She'd never really had any reason to visit the great city—more so given it lacked any plant life. Pegasi may be experts when it comes to watering, but she doubted there was a gardener anywhere in that city. Grim job prospects aside, she had fun in Manehattan. Maybe Cloudsdale would be similar.   “Secondly, given Cloudsdale's size and the league's desire to really make this fight worth its price tag, we'll be trying out a new 'open' format. Instead of the fight taking place in a confined setting, like in previous fights, you and Miss Spitfire will be free to fight wherever you please.”   Of course. Can't make it easy and fight the Captain of the Wonderbolts in a nice confined space, now can we? There had to be big aerial skirmishes, complete with loops, dogfights, and acrobatic maneuvers. All of which she was absolutely terrible at. She was a gardener—one who had just barely passed her flyers ed class to get a license—not a highly trained military operative.   Wait, open fighting? She looked in concern at the brown pegasus, “All the fights so far have been nice and contained. Won't that sort of thing get the attention of the authorities? These fights haven't exactly been peaceful,” Can't have some innocent bystander get flattened like a pancake. She certainly wasn't about to take the blame for it.   “Ah, you see, this is where the Benefactors investment comes into play. They've organized—at great cost—several areas that will be free of bystanders. They are: Hurricane Central Park, the Cloudosseum, and the Weather Factory. Of course, you can still fight in the presence of other ponies,” he got up nearly nose to nose with her and glared at her, causing her to nearly fall back, “Which is why you must exercise great caution. Wait until you're in one of the open areas that are free of bystanders before you start the crazy fighting, understand?”   She nodded, “Absolutely.” ******* Doppler Radar stuck her nose past the red curtains for a third time. No matter how many times she peeked out at the street in front of her house, she still couldn't get used to the sight of the automated carriages that currently lined it. Setting aside the fact they were unholy abominations of technology that would no doubt lead to thousands of ponies losing their jobs, they were parked on a cloud street. A cloud street!   Heavy, metal machines were sitting daintily on top of clouds. Their rich, snobbish owners could not only afford them, they could afford to have them enchanted and flaunt them around her peaceful neighborhood. She'd be writing strongly worded letters to both the city council and Princess Celestia. Not only that, she'd be going to the homeowner's association meeting next week and voice her complaints loud and clear. She couldn't wait to see the look on Thunderwing's face.   Cyclone glanced up from his newspaper at his yellow wife, “Are you done admiring the wonders of technology yet, dear?”   She hastily drew the curtains shut and turned around, “You know full well there's nothing wonderful about it.”   “You need to stop obsessing over it. Just let them have their little carriage show. It'll be over soon,” he looked back down at the sports section. Hmm, Midnight Dream won her latest fight. That mare was practically unstoppable, “Celestia knows you'll be worrying about something new tomorrow,” he mumbled to himself.   “What was that?”   “Oh, nothing. Just complaining about the Typhoons' coach. They're five and fifteen, you know.” This definitely wasn't the fight to pick. You always need to choose your battles carefully.   She gave him a look. Yup, definitely not the fight to pick, “I don't care if it'll be over soon,” she opened the curtains yet again and looked back out the window at the carriage show that was underway. Several of the ponies hopped into their primitive coupes and fired up the engines with several loud backfires and a couple plumes of black smoke.   She pointed at the smoke in alarm and looked back at her lazy husband who was lounging on a chair in the den, “See, see!” she hissed, “Who knows what happens to that oil when it burns? Just look at all that pollution!”   Cyclone stared out the window next to his plush chair and at the large smokestacks that sat atop the Weather Factory a few miles away. Plumes of smoke and steam billowed from the facility, “Yeah. It's a wonder we haven't all suffocated yet from the carriages' emissions.”   She huffed, “Are you mocking me, Cyclone?”   He couldn't help the sarcasm. It was hereditary. He got it from his mom, “No, no, of course not. I was just—”   Their dining room wall evaporated in an explosion as two ponies slammed through it and into the chairs and table before sliding into another wall, knocking several pictures from off it.   Cyclone threw his newspaper to the floor, “What in the world!”   Doppler squealed in terror and ran to her husband's side, “I knew the griffons would invade,” she lightly batted him on his shoulder, “This is why you should have built that air raid shelter like I told you to.”   Midnight sat up and shook her head. Spitfire was quick. Really quick. She needed to... duck! An end chair flew over her and landed in the foyer. She turned her head just in time to see the yellow blur slam into her, “Oaf!” The two ponies rolled around on the wood floor before she was able to kick Spitfire off of her.   “Do something, honey, before they reach the antiques cabinet!” Doppler ribbed her husband, “Be the stallion you always said you were.”   Cyclone turned to his wife in agitation, “What do you want me to do?” he motioned to the two ponies who were taking turns flipping the other over, breaking several of the dining room chairs in the process, “In case you haven't noticed, that's Captain Spitfire of the Wonderbolts. I'm not about to get involved. Who knows what's...” he looked down at the newspaper, which was still open to the sports section. He then looked back up at the undefeated bat pony who was trying to put Spitfire in a choke hold with little success, “... going on.”   Of course that stallion wasn't going to do anything. He never took out the trash. Never did the dishes. Never fixed that crooked shelf in the bedroom, “What? What's that supposed to mean?”   The red pegasus sat up out of his chair, slightly giddy. Could it be? Front row seats to the next fight? He turned to his wife, “Do you realize what this is?”   “The Wonderbolts fighting a terrorist? Some kind of ancient nationalistic cult bent on resurrecting the gods of old to bring bat ponies back to their former glory?” She grabbed Cyclone and shook him in panic, “A false flag operation by the Night Guard as part of Princess Luna's coup de'grace against Princess Celestia?!”   He shook himself loose of his hysterical mate, “No. It's the fighting league's next fight,” he clapped his hooves together in excitement, “Oh, there were rumors there'd be one in Cloudsdale, but I didn't think it would happen so soon,” he jumped up and raced for their bedroom, “I need to get my camera. The guys will never believe this!”   Doppler suddenly cringed at the sound of her grandmother's antique cabinet getting a bat pony carefully and gently kicked into it, “B-But what about getting them out of the house?” That stupid fighting league. She knew she should have kept a better eye on it after Cyclone got hooked. And of course he'd get hooked on it. A bunch of sexy, athletic mares wrestling and thrashing around on the floor. What stallion wouldn't get hooked? She sighed and poked her belly. She really needed to start going to the gym again.   A second later, he came flying back into the room—literally, a camera hanging from his neck. He ran to a stop as he landed, steadied himself, and immediately started snapping pictures of the duo that were currently destroying his dining room/breakfast nook. Neither Spitfire or Midnight paid any attention to the clicking sounds of the shutter as they circled each other over the splinters that once made up a dining room table.   The second Spitfire lunged at Midnight, Cyclone flipped up the flash bulb with a hoof and a strobe effect engulfed the dining room as he continued to snap pictures. Both fighters were dazed by the bright flashes and they tumbled over each other before crashing into the kitchen counter. Midnight kicked Spitfire off herself and made a break for the foyer that Cyclone and Doppler were standing in.   “'Scuse me,” she nodded at the two pegasi before opening the wooden door and running outside. Doppler numbly nodded back. In an instant, Midnight shot into the air. A house was a terrible place to fight. She needed to get some distance between her and Spitfire and maybe regroup a little.   Cyclone took one last picture of the retreated gray and purple blur before he turned his attention and camera back to Spitfire. She sat up and growled, “And where do you think you're going?” she yelled before she exploded off the floor, kicking up dust and splintered wood as she did, and shot out the door in an even faster blur than Midnight.   “Wow,” Cyclone flipped the camera off and let it drop down against his chest, “That was amazing,” he looked down at the camera, “I can't wait to get these developed.”   Doppler just stared in shock at her ruined dining room, and the large, gaping hole in the side of her house that several equally shocked neighbors now looked through. She walked slowly into the room and surveyed the damage. Wood, bits of cloud, and her fine china lay on the hardwood floor. She picked up a broken teacup before letting it slip off her hoof and shatter on the floor.   Forget about the automated carriages. She was going to write about that devilish fighting league. She might even call up the Attorney General's Office. They had been investigating the league, after all.   -----   Midnight breathed a sigh of relief as she looked down at the really fancy looking automated carriages that lined the suburban street beneath her. She'd seen some in Manehattan, but never imagined they'd be all the way up here. When you have money, you might as well flaunt it. Her tufted ears perked at the sound of somepony rapidly gaining on her. Gee, who could that possibly be? Just as she looked back, Spitfire slammed into her and the two crashed into the admittedly soft road surface. Construction-grade cloud is still much nicer than concrete.   Several horseless carriage enthusiasts wearing what Midnight could only assume were derby hats—they didn't have the proper tops or rims to be fedoras—jerked their heads over from their three cylinder Damesire-Benz roadsters and stared. Spitfire immediately straddled Midnight and started punching her indiscriminately. The pinned bat pony responded by trying to parry the blows.   This wasn't going good. Her attempts at blocking the punches were being met with limited success. If she didn't do something quick, Spitfire would likely get in a couple of well placed blows and she'd be out of it. She tried to land a couple of punches on the pegasus, but Spitfire had such good positioning it made it nearly impossible.   Another attempt at Spitfire's face was easily blocked by the mare. Spitfire smirked, “Got yourself into a jam, huh? Quite a sha—gagh!” A loud bang echoed from behind the two followed by a plume of smoke. One of the jalopies had blown a gasket.   Midnight took the opportunity to punch Spitfire in the jaw and knock her off. While the dazed pegasus sat on the cloud road and rubbed her jaw, Midnight once more took off into the air. Time to try this again. She'd just been unprepared previously. If she knew Spitfire was coming, she wouldn't get taken by surprise.   The yellow mare growled once more and shot off after the bat pony. Midnight glanced behind her and saw the rapidly approaching Wonderbolt. Just as Spitfire neared her, she slammed on the brakes and came to a stop, before doubling back toward the car show. Without slowing down an inch, Spitfire turned sharply and continued her pursuit.   Midnight ducked down low to the ground—err, clouds—flying as fast as her bat appendages could flap. Several more auto aficionados wearing leather booties and scarves jumped out of the way as she weaved between several coupes that lined the road. Spitfire avoided the pointless dodging and simply flew over the cars.   Okay. This really wasn't going well. Midnight had figured it probably wouldn't—Captain of the Wonderbolts and all—but you can't blame a pony for at least trying. Midnight glanced up at the clouds that hung lazily above the cloud city. Time for some new tactics. She could use the cloud cover to her advantage and stun the pursuing pegasus. It wasn't a permanent solution, but it could give her some time to think. Maybe find a steamroller or something to end the fight quickly.   She shot straight into the air and did a completely unnecessary corkscrew while she approached the cloud layer. Spitfire merely rolled her eyes at the pony's antics. Awkward backpedaling? Useless obstacle evasion? And now trying to hide in clouds? This bat pony evidently didn't watch the Wonderbolts perform very often.   Just as Midnight entered the cloud layer, Spitfire accelerated and grabbed hold of her purple tail. The move stunned the bat pony and allowed Spitfire to jerk her back, “Ouch!” Midnight glared at the pegasus, “What are you trying to do, de-weed my butt?”   “No, just stop these silly chasing tactics,” she pulled Midnight close and quickly punched at the mare's exposed ribs, “Oh, and get you close enough so I could do that.” Midnight kicked at the pegasus, but her rear hooves only caused some of the cloud to evaporate. Spitfire had already retreated into the white soupy mess.   “In fact, I'd say this was probably an even worse tactic than the chasing ones.” Spitfire shot out of the gray fluff and slammed into Midnight, knocking her clear of the clouds and back into the open sky. She looked around in a panic. Where was Spitfire?! This was going bad. Spitfire hit her again, this time from the top, having arced over the clouds and down at the bat pony. Pain started to radiate from her tired wing muscles. Very, very bad.   It was just no use. Spitfire was Captain of the Wonderbolts—she'd beat Midnight in an aerial fight every time. She had trained for years in the best air division in the country and was a master whereas the most Midnight had were a few free flight classes at the rec center to prep her for the flyers ed test. She needed to get out of the sky as fast as possible or Spitfire would win handily.   Midnight looked around. This was Cloudsdale. There had to be a large, open building around here somewhere she could dash into. Cloudsdale's downtown area caught her eye. It wasn't that far away and it no doubt held a cornucopia of buildings. Just as she was starting to make her way, Spitfire grabbed her tail yet again and yanked her back. Was that the only trick that pegasus knew?   Now wise to the mare's tail tactics, Midnight kicked her in the chest and used the momentum to push herself off and in the direction of Cloudsdale's busy downtown. She strained her wings and closed her eyes tightly, trying to push every fiber of her wing muscles as hard as she could to get some distance from the pegasus. She wasn't having much luck with that so far, but there was always hope.   She banked to the right and dove toward Cloudsdale's town center. Maybe she could get into a mall or something and finally take this fight to the ground—well, cloud-ground equivalent. Spitfire was having none of that, though, and sped up to intercept the fleeing bat pony. Midnight braked hard to stop her descent and hovered in place as Spitfire circled her.   “That's all you do is run, isn't it? Run. Hide. Try and evade me. Run some more,” she laughed. It seemed to Midnight the laugh had a twinge of bitterness to it, “I should really expect that from the Night Guard, though. It's just typical of you. It fits you all to a tee. When confronted with any sort of challenge, what does the Night Guard do? Flee back to your little enclave and hide.”   It seemed there was a little interservice rivalry going on. Judging from the anger in the yellow mare's voice and face, however, it appeared to be a little more than that, “While the Wonderbolts face danger daily—while we're busy fighting—you just sit in your little town, act all mysterious and flashy as Princess Luna's guards, and rake in the recruits and funding.”   Spitfire had gotten so caught up in her own ranting, she wasn't even really paying attention to Midnight. Seeing an opportunely, Midnight slowly sank lower and lower away from the bitter pegasus, “Parliament can't give you enough money and what do we get? Ridicule for not defeating Tirek. Scorn for endangering Princess Twilight and her friends,” Spitfire continued to increase her speed as she worked herself up and had to widen her circling as a result to check the centrifugal forces.   Now about fifty feet lower than Spitfire, Midnight made a beeline for the steam and smoke that was spewing out of the weather factory. Why hadn't she just gone there first? It would have saved her a lot of grief. Not to mention muscle pain from all the strenuous flying she was doing.   “Now I have to do these stupid fights just to boost morale and show everypony just how much better the Wonderbolts—” Spitfire happened to look to where Midnight was supposed to be, but saw the fleeing gray blur rushing toward the Cloudsdale Weather Corporation's stubby glass headquarter building that lay in front of the factory, “You get back here!” she snarled, before quickly speeding off in pursuit.   Midnight hugged the cloud surface. She glanced behind and saw Spitfire rapidly gaining. She looked ahead and jerked out of the way of a lamp post just before hitting it. That was close. She swooped through the parking lot adjacent to the neo-Greek style office building. Why did they have to have their huge headquarter building right in the way of the weather factory?   Just as she was about to collide with some bush-shaped clouds, she veered upwards and hugged the building's glass facade. She looked down at the windows that whizzed by. Huh, now that she thought about it, it would really be a lot quicker if she just went around rather than over the buil—   “Got you!” Spitfire suddenly slammed into her at full speed.   -----   “I just don't understand what they're thinking,” a blue pegasus neatly slipped another sheet of paper into his typewriter, “I mean, why even bother asking about plant shutdown costs if you're just going to shut down the whole weather factory, regardless? And why even have a shutdown for a day when there's no labor disputes or undersupply?”   The white pegasus nodded, “You'd be better off trying to decipher one of those Taratrus monsters than you would upper management,” she sat back straight up in her chair and flipped her abacus several times as she continued some calculations, “Remember the mess that happened to payroll?”   “Hey, Sky!”   Silver Sky looked from the abacus to the cubicle behind her, “Yeah, Pay?”   Pay Day scratched his orange mane while he stared at the small “word of the day” calendar on his desk, “When's the TPS report due, again?”   She glanced up at her cubicle wall and the paper calendar that had been scribbled with so many notes, you could barely make out the actual dates, “Thursday.”   “Ah, that's right. I thought it was—” the glass window in front of the cubicle next to Sky exploded inward, sending a shower of glass onto the blue pegasus within.   “Celestia's flaming orgasms!” he quickly ducked under his desk.   Midnight and Spitfire slammed through several cubicle separators before hitting a large, magnetic tape computer that sat next to a wall. Midnight sat up, wincing. Was that crazy Wonderbolt trying to kill her? Who knows what razor sharp shards of glass could do to a pony's neck or wings. After rubbing several sore spots—thankfully none with cuts on them—she looked around at the small crowd of office workers that anxiously looked on at the two, “Heh, heh. Sorry about the win—ahff!” Spitfire had abruptly sat up and punched her in the gut.   The crowd immediately broke into murmurs just loud enough for Midnight to hear over the growing pain in her stomach, “Is that Captain Spitfire?”   “What's she doing fighting a bat pony?”   “Where's security when you need 'em?”   “My leg!”   Midnight reeled back from the gut punch, only to get kicked in the leg. She fell to the ground, dazed. Spitfire smirked, “I guess Night Guardponies aren't trained for high speed impacts. What a shame,” She walked behind Midnight and placed a foreleg around her neck, “Now to choke you out and end this.”   Before the pegasus could start squeezing, Midnight clamped her fangs down onto the yellow fur that had presented itself to her mouth, “Youch!” Spitfire immediately batted at the bat pony's head with her free hoof. She had to dislodge that damn mare before the enzymes started to kick in. Midnight let go, opting to defend her head instead of trying to wait out the pegasus' assault.   Spitfire leapt backward several yards to regroup, nearly stumbling over a typewriter that had been knocked to the floor as she did. She clenched her now sore leg. Just what she needed. An injury three days before the next performance. That's what she gets for trying to end the fight quickly and effectively.   The group of onlookers looked at Midnight with wide, fearful eyes. There'd always been those rumors about bat ponies. Maybe there really was something off about them and that secret town they lived in. Midnight snorted when she saw their faces, “Oh, come on! She was trying to choke me out. What was I supposed—woah!” She heard Spitfire grunt and ducked just in time to avoid the typewriter flying through the air where her head had formerly been.   First the glass window. Now a metal typewriter. Either that interservice rivalry went a lot deeper than she had first thought, or Spitfire had some serious issues. Spitfire screamed out and lunged at her. Okay. Maybe a little of both. Midnight flapped into the air and bonked her head into some ceiling tiles. Distracted by the asbestos dust, she was unable to stop Spitfire from grabbing her tail yet again—she really had a thing for tails, didn't she?—and whipping her around several times before tossing her into another row of cubicles.   Midnight dizzily pushed a filing cabinet from off her chest and looked up at the yellow pegasus that was hovering above her, another typewriter in her hooves. She flinched as Spitfire lifted the heavy typewriter above her head and prepared to drop it on her before one of the doors flew open and several security guards swarmed into the room.   “Security! Everypony please stand down,” the somewhat overweight gray pegasus that led the group said. So much for the Benefactors ensuring the fight could go on. Not that she was complaining given the situation.   Spitfire quickly dropped the typewriter into the pile of debris and looked at them, “Officers, I do apologize, but this is official business,” Spitfire hovered over to the guards. Midnight could have sworn she heard mention of somepony named Aurora Dawn as the Wonderbolt talked with the officers.   No sense in letting a good opportunity go to waste. She slowly edged her way over to the broken window while Spitfire chatted with security. First the house. Now an office. Inside or outside—it didn't seem to matter to the Wonderbolt. Either way she was winning. Dread and doubt slowly crept into Midnight. Would the weather factory really be any different? She peeked one last time at Spitfire before slipping into the cubicle with the broken window. She carefully stepped around the glass shards lying on the ground and—   “Hey, what's the bat pony doing?” Midnight froze in place from the voice behind her just as she was stepping onto the desk. Ah, crap. She looked back to see everypony staring, “Um... sorry about the window?” She dove out the window, making sure to avoid the sharpened glass that surrounded the hole.   Spitfire growled and lunged away from the guards, “Get back here!” She soared through the office. Dust, debris, and paper were kicked up as she too disappeared out the window. The office was in shambles. Over half the cubicles had been broken down and their contents strewn about. Several of the ceiling tiles had been jarred loss. And, of course, there was now a five foot diameter hole in one of the windows.   Silver Sky looked from the ruined office to the security officers, “Aren't you guys going to stop them?”   The fat gray one shrugged, “Stop the Captain of the Wonderbolts? Did you drink too much coffee this morning, Sky? Besides, there not on Corp. property anymore. It's out of our hooves.”   “Plus, did you hear what Spitfire said about Aurora? I want to make sure the big cheese signs off on this stuff before we try to stop anypony,” another of the officers piped up.   “You could at least call the Royal Guard!” Why even have a security department if they're not going to do anything?   “Which we will. Right after lunch.” the fat pegasus motioned for the other officers to follow and they left. Silver Sky grunted in frustration as she walked over to her broken cubicle to try and find her abacus in all the mess.   -----   Spitfire would no doubt be right on her tail—Tartarus, she'd probably and grab it. Midnight eyed the building's glass facade. She couldn't outrun the Wonderbolt, but maybe she could hide from her right under her nose. She hugged the side of the building and slipped around a corner just as the angry pegasus shot out of the hole. Maybe she'd be able to sneak away. She watched as the yellow pony growled in annoyance at the lack of a gray bat pony being in the vicinity.   Spitfire hovered in place thirty feet away from the side of the office building. She scanned the sky and the fluffy white “ground.” Where did that damn bat pony go? Running away must be her special talent because she was a master at it. She looked around again. This was useless. She needed a higher vantage point.   She shot up into the air, the wind whistling in her ears while her mane and tail whipped behind her. After several seconds, she was hundreds of feet above the Corporation's headquarters, but still no sign of the pony. Midnight Dream had to be hiding. After everything that had happened, there was no way that pony had suddenly gained the ability to fly better than her. There had to be some way to flush this stubborn bat pony out.   Spitfire's face brightened as she thought back to the little debriefing the fighting league had given her on Midnight. The bat pony loved money. It was her “primary motivator.” Spitfire cleared her throat, “You know. This isn't a very interesting fight if all you do is run away,” she started flying around the parking lot, hoping to catch a glimpse of gray fur or purple mane, “I don't thing the league is going to be very happy if this is the tactic you're using,” she smirked, “They might even dock you're pay when this is over.”   “Like Tartarus they're going to!” Midnight snapped a hoof to her mouth. Oh. Spitfire's tone couldn't have been more blatantly trappy if she tried. She'd walked right into that one.   Spitfire looked over at one of the building's edges. It seemed money really was that pony's motivation. She quickly flapped her wings to intercept the hapless bat pony. Keeping this fight in the air was the best option given her dogfighting training and how incompetent her opponent had been so far. If only she had brought some wingblades or maybe a whip with her.   Midnight took off. Got to get to the weather factory. She flew behind the office building, which was connected to one of the factory's many interconnected cloud buildings by a very modern looking glass encased foot bridge. Although the marble pillars that had been added to make it blend in with Cloudsdale's architecture, it didn't really fit in very well. She flew over top of the bridge and neared the complex.   The Cloudsdale Weather Factory was truly an impressive sight to behold. Many pipes wrapped around the construction-grade cloud exterior, some weaving back inside, others dipping down into the ground, and still others draining various completely non-toxic liquids into retention ponds. Several smoke stakes adorned the roof of the facility, while she could just make out a cooling tower on the far side that was lazily spitting out steam.   Too busy admiring Cloudsdale's engineering crown jewel, she failed to notice Spitfire right on her tail, until the pegasus swiped at her rear hooves and knocked her off balance. She went tumbling sideways before she righted herself and used her momentum to land on the roof. Well, hit it hard and skid to a stop on her side. But a landing's a landing.   She looked down at the white tile floor inside the weather factory. She had apparently come to rest right over a skylight. And given Spitfire's like for ramming at high speeds... Midnight looked up just in time to see the yellow pegasus slam down into her and send the pair crashing several stories down into the factory proper. They spun several times in midair, attempting to use the other to cushion the impact.   Wait a minute. Why did she need to cushion the impact? Midnight flapped flapped her wings hard to slow her descent. Realizing any impact advantage she had was gone, Spitfire did the same, and the two landed fairly softly on the tile floor, aside from the glass shards that poked at her hooves.   Midnight glanced around at the machinery anxiously. It was all running. Hydraulic pistons slammed bits of metal together. Vats shot out steaming hot gels and runny liquids. Steam hissed from pipes and fittings. Conveyor belts spun around with nothing on them. And there wasn't a single factory worker to be found. The place was totally deserted. It sent shivers up Midnight's spine. It was like something out of a horror movie.   Spitfire saw the same eerie factory as she did, “Huh. I knew Aurora was a Benefactor, but I never imagined she's organize something like this,” she looked to Midnight, “Pretty creepy, eh? Even for a bat pony.”   What was with the generalizations? Everytime, without fail. Something spooky? Oh, surely the bat pony will like it. Not every bat pony wore a jack-o-lantern on their head and drew pentagrams on their walls. She just nodded.   “You can burn me as many looks as you want,” and maybe she also visually indicated her displeasure, “It's not going to help you.” Spitfire jumped at her and thrust a forehoof forward. Stumbling back, Midnight was able to parry the blow and twist her body to the side, allowing Spitfire to slip past her.   Spitfire slide across the tile floor and turned around, but Midnight had already disappeared behind several tanks of Liquid Air®. The Wonderbolt grit her teeth in anger, “This has gone on far, far too long,” she started walking around the machinery, checking each corner as she passed, “ These fleeing tactics may be Night Guard staples, but they're not going to work. You need to either fight or give up.”   She startled back at a pipe's sudden hiss of gas above her head, “How do you think it's going to look that you're exposing your Night Guard's cowardly tactics to the public?” she smirked as she leaned her head under some metal struts to check for gray hooves, “Maybe it'll even put the Wonderbolts in higher regard.”   Midnight ran through a pair of double doors, “I don't care how it looks for them. I'm not a member of the Night Guard,” She stumbled to a stop a few feet away from the doors. Below the metal grating she was standing on were half a dozen huge vats of goop. She looked over at a control panel that was connected to the catwalk she was on, “Cloud mixing tanks?”   Even with the sturdy railing, Midnight had to question the policy of having giant open vats of chemicals. She peered over the edge into one of the tanks. A large metal stirring thing slowly spun around inside the vat of green liquid. She looked to her side, where a life ring was hung with a sign that read: “In case of accident, use to retrieve fallen pony.” She snorted in amusement. At least they didn't completely ignore the open tanks of chemicals.   She felt herself be lifted up and over the edge of the platform. She really needed to stop getting distracted. There was a fight going on. She could take a tour some other time. Thankfully, she simply oriented herself and hovered over the tank, “You did remember I can fly, right?” Spitfire responded by chucking the life ring at her as hard as she could, “Ow!” For something designed to save your life, it really hurt when it hit you.   Midnight quickly flew to the other side of the room and through another set of double doors, with Spitfire chasing right behind her. Once through, Midnight's eyes rested upon a whole warehouse worth of heavy machinery and conveyor belts, all of it running and all of it without a single worker present. She looked up as she landed. Above her was a large white and red sign bolted to a support column that held up the roof which read: “Warning: open air machinery in operation. Mind all clothing articles and hair when within machine work zones. In event of accident, disengage machinery immediately.”   Spitfire jumped onto her back, causing her to stumble, “Finally giving up?”   She elbowed the pegasus in the face, “Not just yet,” Spitfire responded by kneeing her in the ribs before using her wings to lightly, but very uncomfortably, swipe at her throat. She struggled over to one of the many support columns and rammed Spitfire into it several times. The pegasus slipped from off her back and wobbled back, slightly dazed.   She pressed her advantage and tackled the yellow mare, before punching at her face and chest. Spitfire covered her head with her forelegs, while using her hindlegs to entangle Midnight's. The two mares grappled on the ground and rolled several times. With neither realizing it, they slipped over the OSHA-mandated red line that warned of the machine work zone. Around them, cogs and gears of the machines clanked and spun.   Amazingly to Midnight, for once, she came out on top of one of these grapples. The two ponies had rolled into the gap between two of the machines. Several feet above them, a hooked conveyor belt gently fed small puffy clouds from one machine to the other. She had Spitfire pinned, but that was all she had. With all four of her hoofs disposed trying to prevent the struggling mare from freeing herself, there wasn't much left she could do—especially with how much Spitfire fought against the pin. You'd think she was in the military or something.   But Midnight had forgotten about one body part. As Spitfire distracted the bat pony with her struggling, she quietly slipped her wings out from behind her, before she quickly swiped them up, surprising Midnight and knocking her forelegs off Spitfire's pinned ones. Spitfire laughed as she rapidly punched Midnight's soft underbelly several times.   Midnight gasped and fell onto her back, groaning. Spitfire picked herself up from off the tile floor and shook herself to knock some of the dust and dirt off, “That was impressive, but amateurs always forget about the wings. They're just as important as your hooves.” Spitfire leapt at her, hoping to take advantage of the downed bat pony.   Midnight winced and kicked the pegasus with her hindlegs, causing Spitfire to tumble back and hit a piece of machinery. She slide down and shook her head several times, “Okay. Yeah. I'll admit, that was kind of stupid of me,” She got up and stepped forward only to suddenly be yanked back by the tail. Instinctively, she reared onto her forelegs and bucked at whatever was stupid enough to grab her, only for a sudden sharp pinching sensation to shoot up her body from her now stuck rear hooves.   “What the—” Spitfire looked back at what had caught her tail and rear hooves. Her eyes widened in fear as she saw a pair of rollers squashing her legs and tail flat, “Oh.” Midnight watched in awe as the athletic mare was slowly fed through the first pair of rollers. Spitfire tried desperately to grab onto something to stop herself from being fully flattened out, but she only grabbed at air.   Midnight glanced at a large red emergency shutoff button that was attached to the support column next to her. She could extend an olive branch from the “Night Guard” and help the Wonderbolt Captain out. She'd likely already won given nearly half of Spitfire was now as thin as a sheet. She reached out to press the button but paused. What if the fighting league didn't accept it? Maybe they had some policy about half flattenings. Maybe she'd only get half paid. Not wanting to risk getting gypped of her bits. Midnight put her hoof down and watched the scene unfold.   With most of her legs now flat, Spitfire attempted to overcome the pull of the rollers and use her wings to yank herself free. Flapping desperately, she strained her muscles as she tried, but every second she failed, more of her body was sent through the maw of the machine—and that made it that much harder to free herself. She let out a yelp as her butt and cutie mark made their way through the rollers.   It was quite a sight for Midnight to behold. One which was quickly disappearing. She took her eyes off of the rapidly flattening out pegasus and walked to the side of the machine to get a better view. On one side of the rollers was Spitfire's upper body, straining to free herself, while on the other was a thin yellow and gold line that was the mare's legs and flank. Spitfire's flattened body was firmly pressed to the lower roller as it spun around. Midnight noticed another set of rollers located underneath the first set. He attention refocused on Spitfire's vain attempts to free herself.   Spitfire panted, exhausted. She sagged down and relaxed her aching muscles. Despite her best attempts to free herself, her belly slipped between the rollers and was squashed. She was just able to tuck her tired wings against her back before they, and the rest of her body made their way through the rollers. One last time, she looked around in panic, before her shoulders and head made their way through the roller, “Noeurgh.”   With her muzzle through the rollers, her forelegs made their way through to join the rest of the Wonderbolt in her flattened state. Midnight watched as Spitfire was now flattened to the lower roller as it spun around. Just as it seemed like the pegasus might be trapped on the roller, doomed to be constantly flattened out in between the two rollers, her tail and hind legs were peeled off by a small wedge angled against the roller, which appeared to be there to prevent things from getting stuck to the roller's surface.   The rest of Spitfire's flat body peeled off of the roller and fluttered down several inches toward the second pair of much smaller rollers. Midnight saw the dizzied expression on the flat mare's face along with her tongue that was sticking out. Spitfire's thin body gently slipped right between the two rollers. Midnight winced as the athletic pony was squashed for a second time.   Now noticeably thinner, Spitfire grunted feebly as she softly landed on a conveyor belt. Midnight was now able to get her first good look at Spitfire's squashed state. The yellow mare was flat on her belly, her fore and hind legs flattened straight out like she had been caught in the middle of a leap. Her wings were tightly pressed to her back, while her whole body seemed to have widened out slightly due to the pressure of two sets of wringers. Stands of her orange mane had been flattened against her wide eyes. Judging from the half-conscious look in them, it appeared the rollers had done a number on the mare. Her tongue was still splayed out of her mouth.   The conveyor belt carried the flat mare several feet away from the rollers. Spitfire seemed to recover slightly from her flattening and slowly peeled her head off of the belt and glanced around. With no immediate dangers, Spitfire flexed her muscles and was able to pry the rest of her body from off the belt's surface. Midnight looked behind Spitfire's wafer thin body and saw dozens of hydraulic pistons which buffeted the conveyor belt. No amount of training could have prepared Spitfire for this.   The flat mare flapped her squashed head behind her and looked at the pistons. She whimpered and began to try and slide her way away like an inch worm. Unfortunately, her desperate attempt at fleeing wasn't quick enough to out crawl the conveyor speed and the squashed pony continued to head toward the pistons and an even flatter fate.   The first of the pistons slammed against one of her flat rear hooves, causing her to yelp in shock. Spitfire still tried to inch her way away even as the pistons began to crush her already squashed body even flatter. Midnight winced once more as she heard Spitfire grunt and groan at the squashing she was going through. Hindsight being what it is, it probably would have been a better idea to have just pressed that shutoff button.   Mercifully, the conveyor belt moved beyond the pistons with Spitfire now firmly pressed to its surface. She stared upward, her eyes glazed over from the flattening she went through. At the end of the conveyor belt lay one final set of rollers. Seeing there wasn't anything beyond it, Midnight walked over to fetch the paper thin pony once she completed her crushing trip.   Spitfire's squashed body made its way through the final roller and once she was fully clear of it, she gently rocked back and forth as she fluttered into a bin positioned underneath the rollers. Midnight peeked into the bin and saw just how flat Spitfire had become. The athletic mare resembled nothing more than a Wonderbolt-themed mat or bed sheet.   She reached into the bin and pulled the wafer thin yellow mare out. She then flapped Spitfire's flat body several times like a blanket before she let her land softly onto the tile floor of the factory. Spitfire eyes refocused and settled into a glare at the bat pony that had defeated her, “Oh, come on. Don't be like that.” Midnight stared uncomfortably at the flat pony. All of her other opponents had been pretty accommodating once flat. It was going to be really awkward having Spitfire glare at her like that all the way back to the league's office in Hollow Shades.   Her face suddenly brightened. Of course, who ever said Spitfire's face had to be facing outward? She could just roll the mare up face down like the Wonderbolt poster she was. Then all she'd have to see was the pegasus' fiery orange tail, and flat, yellow rear hooves poking out. Plan now in mind, Midnight walked up to Spitfire's muzzle and reached down to pick up her forehooves.   Spitfire smirked. What a foalish bat pony. She abruptly lunged her flat body up and sucker punched Midnight in the snout. Unlike Night Terror's attempts, the paper thin hoof maintained its force and sent the bat pony reeling backwards clenching her stinging nose with a hoof, “Gah! What the Tartarus?” Midnight looked down at the hoof. Luckily, her nose wasn't bleeding. Spitfire's hoof lacked any depth and so didn't have the diameter needed to really do much damage.   She looked up and her jaw dropped in shock. The squashed Wonderbolt had assumed an aggressive standing position in front of her, despite the fact the pony was a quarter inch thick. Spitfire wobbled and flexed in place as she continued to glare at the stunned mare, “You got me good, I'll admit it. It'll probably take weeks to regain my depth. But if you think for one second I'm just going to let you roll me up and waltz away, you've got another thing coming.”   Midnight just continued to stare, slack jawed. Th-This shouldn't happen. She'd won. She'd flattened her opponent and now could relax and await the bits. That's how all the other fights ended. These were one round fights. There wasn't supposed to be a round two. She should be halfway back to Hollow Shades by now, enjoying the sun and clouds while riding the thermals.   Seeing her opponent's confusion, Spitfire pounced. She flexed her flattened muscles and charged forward. Being flat was certainly going to be a pain, but it did make her much more dexterous. She had to admit that. That idiot bat pony stumbled backward. She really had been thrown off by this, hadn't she?   Midnight tried to duck under the thin yellow line that was assaulting her, but Spitfire was able to adjust—even in midair like a sail—and kick her in the chest with a flat hoof. The kick stung, but not nearly as much as it would if it had been done by a fully three dimensional hoof. It seemed a lot of Spitfire's power had been flattened out along with her depth.   Spitfire's squashed body skidded to a halt several feet away. The flat mare was panting from her brief attack. Midnight smirked when she looked over at the origami pony. Power wasn't the only thing she was lacking. With her lungs now just as paper thin as the rest of her body, it made her get winded more easily. Midnight definitely had a huge advantage.   She decided to go on the offensive and seize her weight and depth advantage. She charged forward before she shot her wings out and jumped into the air, gliding toward her wafer thin target. Upon reaching Spitfire, she twisted upward and kicked at the flat mare several times with her suspended hindlegs. Spitfire easily dodged out the way of the kicks by twisting and folding her flattened out body out of the way of the blows.   Midnight huffed. She landed and tried the same tactic only to be met with the same result, complete with Spitfire folding herself up into a small yellow and gold pile when she tried a punch-kick combo. Spitfire sprung up from her pile and slammed her hooves into Midnight;s soft belly, knocking the wind out of her.   It appeared depth and weight weren't everything. New plan. Run. That always worked before. Why stray from the classics? She took flight once more and shot backwards, watching as Spitfire began to pursue after her. It was pretty dangerous flying blind with all this open air equipment. Knowing her luck she'd run into a steam press or—she slammed back-first right into the open end of a chute.   Panic quickly swelled up. What a stupid way to get flattened. You're on the cusp of victory and you literally walk—well, fly backwards into—the squishing jaws of defeat. She winced and tightly shut her eyes, expecting some sort of press or roller to make quick work of her lean, gray body. She could hear the heavy industrial noises of whatever she had blundered into echoing from inside the chute, but her body remained fully three dimensional.   It was only when she opened her eyes that she realized she was hovering inside the chute. It's opening curved downward like the elbow of a pipe into whatever machinery lay beneath. If she got a wing cramp, she fall right into what was surely a flat fate. She breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed karmatic field theory really was just a crazy theory.   Spitfire lunged into the chute and grabbed onto her. Maybe it wasn't! Maybe it wasn't! “Get off me!” She had to be very careful. The chute wasn't terribly big. A jerk in the wrong direction and one of her leathery wings could bang into the metal side and send her tumbling down.   “Why? Seems like a very fitting end to such a pain in my now flat flank,” Spitfire tried to reach up and grab one of her wings.   Midnight grabbed and pulled at the flat mare, trying to prevent her from getting to her prize, “You'll fall in too, you know. It'll be a draw. Nopony will win,” she wasn't really sure if it would be. If she was squashed really flat and Spitfire wasn't, than the flat pegasus could just turn in her dazed, flattened out body.   Spitfire glanced down at her paper thin form, “At this stage, fine by me.” Even with the determined Wonderbolt playmat grappling and prodding her, Midnight was still able to just barely navigate her way to the chute's opening. She grabbed onto the edge with her forehooves and slapped her wings tightly against her back. The pair fell hard onto the metal floor of the chute, eliciting a metallic clang that reverberated within it. Spitfire had been partially dislodged from Midnight's body and now looked into the chute behind her in fear.   Midnight looked back and smiled at the fear in Spitfire's eyes, “Well, if you want to go in so badly, please, be my guest.” she kicked at the flat pegasus with her hindlegs several times, before she felt Spitfire's thin hooves finally slip off.   “No, no no! Wait!” With one final kick, the flattened Wonderbolt crumpled into the back of the chute and fell into the machine with a loud, echoing shriek, “M-Midnight, please! Y-You gotta turn it o—uuaack! N-No, wait! T-That's not supposed to bend that wa—huurgh.” Groans and grunts echoed from within as whatever the machine was worked over the athletic Wonderbolt Captain.   Midnight sighed in relief and pulled herself free of the chute. She looked over at the machine's controls, “Cloud Compactor, huh?” She cast a glance at the OSHA signs that were bolted above the chute's opening that warned of open intake machinery and the location of emergency shutoff buttons before she snorted and walked over to the conveyor belt on the other side of the machine.   Just as she looked at it, a yellow and orange brick fell onto the conveyor belt. Spitfire whimpered softly as she slowly made her way down the conveyor belt. Midnight grabbed Spitfire's crushed body and placed it on the tile floor.   The mare's already flattened out body had been tightly compressed by the force of the compactor. Her squashed legs were wrapped around the edges of her cubed body. At the top, her mane was visible while most of her face and muzzle was obscured by a rear hoof, which had been folded and crushed around the side. One glazed over eye poked out from underneath the hoof while the tip of her muzzle was bent downward.   Her wings weren't visible, presumably being crushed somewhere inside the yellow block. Midnight was really amazed by the fact that, even though Wonderbolt had “regained” her three dimensionality, her body was still very clearly flat, having been folded and bent in order to fit the shape of the block. She resembled a folded up yellow towel that had been through a compactor.   Midnight picked up the crushed mare, “Now can I turn you in?”   Spitfire could only whimper weakly in response.   End of Chapter Five