Hunter's Fall

by Xaphriel

Chapter 1 - First Assignment

BUZZZZZ!!! BUZZZZZ! BUZZZZZZ!

The glaring light on my closed eyes startled me from sleep, as a klaxon sounded loudly just inches from my head. I sprang up, eyes still shut, and was halfway towards the door before I remembered the dual alarm system employed in my new quarters. The buzz of the alarm was never enough to pull me from sleep, and I knew it, but I still cursed myself once I remembered that the harsh glare invading my eyes was from the automatic lighting and not from some enemy incursion in the heart of Cloudsdale. With a sigh of resignation, I hoisted himself the rest of the way out of my hammock and forced my eyes open.

The stark white walls of my quarters did nothing to help my already protesting eyes in the artificial light, but the grey of the tiny window was easier to focus on. The time was magically projected onto the glass, glowing softly against the dawn skyline of Cloudsdale. 6:31am. I was late on my first day. Shit.

Blearily, I hoisted myself out of my hammock and tried to get my bearings. The cold white walls of the room did little to encourage me into wakefulness, but if the biggest price we paid for military service was a lack of inspired interior design, I'd take it. I staggered to my feet and headed towards the shower cubicle, eying it dubiously from the doorway. I wasn't a huge fan of this contraption, having never seen one before my on-site training began. Being a pegasus, I wasn't very fond of enclosed spaces at the best of times, and backing into the three-by-seven hoof box felt all too similar to slaughterhouse machines I'd heard of in horror stories. Still, I thought as I bucked at the activation button, warm water running in rivulets down my body, drenching my hair and feathers, it was a hell of a lot more efficient than the old method of trying to twist a tap with my teeth.

A minute passed when, as abruptly as it had begun, the stream of water stopped, and hot air blasted from the sides of the cubicle, drying me as quickly as I had been soaked. After a few moments more, the jets of air ceased, and I stepped out of the shower clean and dry. I was dubious as to just HOW clean I could possibly be after such a short time, but time was more precious a commodity than cleanliness in my mind, and I had precious little of the latter.

Still silently cursing myself for sleeping in, I launched myself out the door and skidded down the narrow hallway towards the briefing room, startling an elderly janitor as I hurtled past him. I raced through the barracks, galloping as fast as my groggy legs would allow. Ponies were knocked back as I tore around corners, yelling and cursing as I whizzed past. Knowing I'd never run to the briefing hall on time, I headed for the nearby canteen. I wasn't interested in the food (well, I was, but breakfast would have to wait), but it was the nearest room with an accessible balcony.

Bursting into the mess hall, the I sent an attendant pony sprawling as the door slammed into him. Shouting apologies over my shoulder, I narrowly dodged another attendant and leaped from the balcony.

From the air, the Wonderbolts Headquarters was spectacular. The crescent shaped building was beautifully sculpted from snow white clouds into graceful loops and attractive swirls. From this altitude, I could just make out the lightning bolt shaped fountain in the courtyard which, I knew, was spraying drops of rainbow extract into the air. The tourists all loved that. I remembered when I was a colt, coming to see it just after it was erected, trying not to get lost in the crowd, my mother's wing wrapped protectively around me (much to my embarrassment). I aimed straight across the courtyard and down, at the far wall of the HQ, tucking my wings and plummeting down, letting gravity speed my course.

I soared through a blessedly open window on the eighth level, thirty feet from the briefing room. The grey storm cloud of the door loomed ahead, and had I been on time, I probably would have taken a moment to reflect on this life changing moment; my first briefing. As it was, the time spell above the door said 7:01, so I left introspect by the wayside and burst through.

The briefing room was dominated by their - our - insignia. The golden lighting bolt, flanked by snow white wings, was displayed twenty hooves high on the far wall of the cavernous chamber.

"Well. It seems our newest recruit has deigned to join us after all."

The voice came from the other symbol in the room, the living one. Despite the situation, I was still in awe of her; the mare who had militarised the stunt-performing Wonderbolts almost a decade ago, who had led the defence of the Equestrian Solar Empire against all manner of beasts and insurgents since its formation. Her golden coat was as bright as it had ever been, her age only showing in her fading mane and the lines that were ever-present under her hazel eyes.

Almost as striking as her beauty were the scars she bore, mementos of past battles lost and won. The twin scars that ran through her left eye were as legendary as she was. Stories abounded as to their origin, each more wild than the last; from explosions and accidents, to griffins and even dragons. The truth, though, was known only to those who had been there, and not to us lowly grunts.

The stitch scars on her left foreleg, where her bones had been reset after tearing clean through her flesh, were almost negligible compared to the most striking injury of all; her missing left hind leg. The bronze prosthesis in its place was as beautiful as it was terrifying, a master combination of technology and magic. Cogs and wires ran elegantly over its surface, with vicious looking blades lining the back of the limb, reminiscent of the spikes on a griffin's leg, or a dragon's tail.

Spitfire, the leader of the Wonderbolts, stood proudly beneath the insignia on the wall, glaring at me from her podium. Before her, over fifty assembled Wonderbolts stood to attention, their eyes swivelling to fin on me as our commander announced my late arrival. Blood rushed to my cheeks like she had opened a faucet. I had barely opened my mouth to stammer an apology, when Spitfire launched into a tirade.

"Oh no, Hunter, no need for words. Your actions are clear enough. By all means, your beauty sleep is FAR more important than attending mission briefings. In fact, would you rather go back to bed? We can send you a note when it's time for you to do your job. Would you like some warm cocoa too? Maybe a bedtime story?"

This drew scattered snickers from the crowd. My embarrassment deepened, but I had endured worse before. I kept my composure as Spitfire continued.

"Or would you rather stay, listen to the briefing, and actually perform your duties?"

I don't know if it was respect or shame that kept me from speaking back. Probably both. I stood there, transfixed under her gaze, and let the torrent of condescension was over me, my own eyes rebelling against me, stubbornly returning her steely stare.. As the silence lengthened, I mustered my courage, and managed a barely audible response.

"I'll stay."

"What was that? Did you say something, Hunter? I could have sworn I heard something."

I cleared my throat and tried again, this time speaking much more forcefully and audibly.

"I said 'I'll stay', Commander."

"Wonderful news, I'll alert the Cloudsdale Chronicle just as soon as I can. In your own time, Cadet." The sarcasm almost dripped from her words.

I felt it almost physically as Spitfire finally released me from her glare, turning to address the rest of the assembly. Trying not to show how shaken I was, I moved to the only empty spot in the ranks, towards the back of the room. As I took my place, I noticed a burly maroon pegasus watching me, a superior smirk on his face. I recognised him as Wingstrong, the newest recruit before I was drafted in. He stood a full head taller than me, and much broader, his thick, powerful legs almost twice the width of my own, and I'm not a small pony. I swallowed my rage for the third time in as many minutes, and focused on what Spitfire was saying. The red pony smirked even wider before turning back to her himself.

"As I was saying, we have received intelligence reports that a group of anti-Empire dissenters have been spreading treasonous materials in an outlying suburb of our own city. We also have reason to believe that they are stockpiling weapons as part of the terrorist organisation that we all know as the Shadowbolts."

A ripple of shock ran through the assembled ponies. I was as surprised as any of them. The Shadowbolts were infamous across Equestria, a twisted mockery of our own group. It was common knowledge that they had been spreading slanderous propaganda against the Empress of the Sun across all of the Empire, their posters and flyers loaded with seditious material. Or, at least, so I'd heard. It was always removed by the Guardians of the Peace within an hour, and I'd never actually seen any of it myself.

It had also been widely reported that they had been sabotaging important facilities across the Empire. Most recently, and worryingly, the Rainbow Factory had been put out of operation for weeks under suspicious circumstances, and it was firmly entrenched in most ponies minds that something big had happened at the site, and that the Shadowbolts were somehow involved.

Finally, they were responsible for several brutal attacks on civilian ponies, as well as a spate of ponynappings that had been ongoing for several months. Overall, the Shadowbolts were NOT individuals that anypony wanted to get involved with, and they inspired mixed emotions of fear and hate, in almost equal measures.

"Bucking scum."

I stared in shock at Wingstrong, from whom the expletive had originated. My unenthusiastic feelings towards the stocky colt were rapidly turning to outright dislike. To speak like that, not only in the presence of Spitfire, but all the Wonderbolts? Sure, he said what many present were thinking, but what kind of disrespectful idiot was he, to speak such vulgarity in the presence of these heroes of the Empire? I tried to hide my eagerness as I waited for Spitfire to rip him to shreds as she had me.

To my shock, Spitfire didn't reprimand him. Instead, she smiled, as though pleased with the reaction her revelation had inspired.

"I commend your enthusiasm, Cadet. You'll be pleased to know that, as of now, I am authorising a full identify and eliminate mission against these traitors to the Empire. I have hoof picked the ponies who will be a part of this operation. When I call you out, proceed to the equipment room at once for outfitting.

I was shocked at the lack of chewing out, but my shock was replaced by understanding as Spitfire announced the first name.

"Wingstrong."

The maroon pegasus, swollen beyond even his usual formidable size with pride, swaggered forward. He took a moment to throw a meaningful glance my way, his eyes full of superiority. I struggled to keep my face impassive as he left the auditorium by a small, unobtrusive door to the left of Spitfire's stage.

He was just the first. Spitfire continued calling names, some of which were known to me, more of which weren't. I was almost completely zoned out when;

"Hunter."

I snapped back to attention at the sound of my voice. Dumbstruck, I stared at Spitfire for a moment, before regaining my senses and starting forward. My mind was whirling in confusion. After all, I had been humiliated in front of every Wonderbolt in Cloudsdale not ten minutes before. Were my skills really so impressive that they negated my chewing out?

I risked a glance at the mare at the podium as I passed, but she was already calling another name, Sunset, and paid me no heed as I exited the hall.

***

My heart stuck in my throat as I looked at myself in the mirror. I barely recognised myself, my knowledge of my own appearance conflicting with the memories of my childhood heroes. The cerulean blue flight suit, golden lightning ringing the cuffs and bisecting the chest, was as legendary as the winged lightning bolt showing proudly on my flank.

Back when I was just a foal, when the Wonderbolts were just entertainers, the suits had been made of silk, nylon and other stretchy, light materials. These modern ones were still featherweight, of course, but under the nylon was a thin layer of replicated dragon scales, making the flight suit an effective form of light armour, perfect for skirmishes and mild combat. I shuddered to think of the cost of the uniform. Then again, maintaining order was the Empress' top priority these days, and eliminating terrorists was fundamental to that goal.

I pulled the suit on, working my wings through the elasticised fabric, until they burst through the back of the suit. I laughed at my reflection in the mirror, wings outstretched from the costume. This was it, I realised. I was a Wonderbolt.

Still brimming with pride, I made my way through the labyrinthine corridors towards the Assault Shed. As with nearly all of the HQ, the walls were monotonous, slate grey cloud. This building was all about business. Entering the hangar, I saw my squad mates in the centre of the room. Two of them were unfamiliar to me, but I immediately recognised the third. Wingstrong. I stifled a groan, and focused on exuding confidence as I approached them. The red pegasus noticed me, and smirked. I was really getting sick of that guy's face.

"What's the matter with your suit, dude? They didn't have anything smaller?"

"They said the extra material had to go to making a uniform for some freakishly large pegasus. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

I had resolved not to answer, but the words had just slipped out. the burly pegasus stared at me, uncomprehending. One of the Wonderbolts behind him sniggered, but was smacked in the back of the head by the final member of the group. They both watched silently as Wingstrong comprehended my insult, his maroon coat going an even darker shade of red. Shit. Now I was in for it.

"How did such a runt get into the Wonderbolts, anyway?" Wingstrong queried, approaching me until his muzzle was mere inches from mine. This close up, I could really see just how much bigger than me he was, standing at least a head taller, and almost twice as wide.

"I guess they needed someone who could manoeuvre in tight positions. Or at least fit through a regularly sized doorway," I retorted.

Wingstrong squared up to me, his wings flaring out behind him. He opened his mouth for a comeback, when three magically augmented klaxons sounded.

"Break it up, kids", shouted one of the other pegasi, moving to stand between us, "we're moving out!"

Myself and Wingstrong bristled at each other for a few more seconds, before turning towards the exit and flying out into the early morning sky.

***

The flight was short, but tense. The twinkling lights of Cloudsdale proper faded more and more as we neared our destination, dawn breaking as we flew. Spitfire had been serious, this place really was on the outskirts. The standalone structures gave way to apartment blocks, and they got shabbier and shabbier with each passing moment. As the target entered my line of sight, my gut clenched. There was nothing special about it, really. It was a pretty average looking place, maybe a bit tidier than the surrounding buildings. It got to me BECAUSE of that. There was nothing here suggesting subterfuge or malice. just a working class family home. I was about to say something to the rest of the squad, when my magical earpiece came alive.

"Ok ponies, listen up. The other two teams are waiting for us to flush the building, then they'll move in if we need support. I'm heading in the front. Sunset, watch my back. Wingstrong, sneak in the back, and wait for my signal. Hunter, you cover him. No fuckups, ponies. We move in forty five seconds."

It occurred to me as I crouched in the shadows, watching Wingstrong approach the back door of the building, that I never knew the lead pony's name. He gave the orders, and we took them, but I had no idea who he was, or where he ranked in the Wonderbolt hierarchy. I shrugged the notion away, silently counting down the seconds.

3, 2, 1...

Wingstrong slipped into the house with surprising grace for a pony his size. For an agonising few moments, the only sounds I could hear were the distant whisper of Cloudsdale proper, and the thudding beat of my own heart. After a few moments, or heartbeats, shouts came from inside. I tensed, my eyes locked on the open door.

The shouting was followed by crashes, thuds and other sounds indicating a struggle. A small form came shooting out of open door, startling me. I tensed to intercept it, until realisation struck me, and I felt my gut clench.

The shadow fleeing toward me was small. Too small. The size of a foal.

Something was wrong.

I was still trying to process this when a more familiar, and much larger, shadow rocketed from the house. Wingstrong. He closed on the foal rapidly, his massive wings pummelling the air with each stroke. The colt (I could see him clearly now), was only ten hooves from me when the red pegasus' swooped in alongside him, and bucked at his neck with his rear hooves.

The sickening crack of the colt's spine left no ambiguity. He was dead before he hit the clouds.

My heart stopped. Numbness washed over me, from my wing tips to my hooves, to the pit of my stomach, as I watched the stricken foal fall. Twelve, maybe fifteen seconds had passed since the first shouts in the home. As my senses returned to me, I registered that the noise had evolved into gruff shouts and the screams of at least two separate, terrified ponies.

Wingstrong was inspecting his kill, prodding the child's body with his fore hoof, when I launched myself at his bulky frame. Knocking him back a few inches, our eyes locked.

"What the FUCK was that!?" I roared. Wingstrong gave me a look to quiet down, but I ignored it. I knew the area wasn't secure yet, knew to wait for the all clear. I just didn't care anymore.

"Are you fucking BLIND!? That was a FOAL!"

Wingstrong gaped at me.

"It was an unidentified hostile resisting arrest! I was trying to stop him.
"And I did."

He said this so matter-of-factly that I was struck dumb. He genuinely didn't see what he had done as wrong. He had just murdered a child, and didn't even need to work to rationalise it. I wasn't sure if I envied him or pitied him. Either way, one emotion stood out clearly. No matter what else, I hated him.

Our backup teams had arrived and entered the building as I ranted at Wingstrong. The lead Wonderbolt of our team had just exited the house, a dour expression on his face.

"Mission was a bust", he announced, trotting towards us. "Just some family having dinner. Must've been a bad tip. I swear, one of these days, I swear I'm..."

He trailed off as he noticed the dead colt. His expression was replaced with annoyance.

"Which one of you did that?" he asked quietly, eyes flicking from myself to Wingstrong. I mutely raised a hoof, indicating the red pegasus. The team leader sighed, then shrugged.

"Well, these things happen. We'll detain the family overnight, debrief them tomorrow. No permanent harm done."

It was too much for me. I turned away, retching into the shadows. What kind of ponies had I gotten involved with, that they could kill a child, an innocent child, and say that no harm was done? After my stomach was done rebelling, I took a few shaky steps away from the twisted little group. Then a few more. It hadn't occurred to me that I was leaving until I heard my name being called.

"Hunter! Where do you think you're going?" The CO's voice cut through my daze. "Get back here, we're not done. Hunter!"

I took one more look at my CO, Wingstrong, and the body between them, before launching myself into the air. I didn't know where I was flying to. I just knew I had to get away. Away from Wingstrong, and the CO. Away from that twisted scene on the clouds behind me. Away from my screaming, raging sense of guilt.

No wings in Equestria were fast enough for me to outrun the last one.

Comments

[RavnZ]

hmm... It seems that the story is going somewhere after all =)

[Xaphriel]

Ha, I was really busy finishing my college thesis over the last month, I had zero time for enjoyable things. It'll be updated MUCH more frequently now that I have time, I'm hoping for every two weeks.

[Xaphriel]

663734

Well, that was a blatant lie.

I'll be honest, I abandoned Hunter as a character once I created my ponysona and, let's be fair, his design is terrible anyway. I may edit and continue the story at some point, but it's pretty unlikely.