And So?

by Rokas

Chapter 6 - Rock over London, Rock on Chicago

The ticking of a grandfather clock marked time and provided a counterpoint to the silence of the office Thunderbird found himself in. He sat in a wide chair, pony style to not disturb his host, while she patiently and calmly went through the application he had just tendered. A bit more informal than I'd expect for a mayor's office, the dark green pegasus mused as he looked over the various decorations. Potted plants were an obvious but welcome choice, but what truly surprised him was the large amount of photographs and artwork, all showing Ponyville and its denizens at various points in its short but rich history. Having been in a few government offices in his time. Thunderbird knew that the effect could have been formal and distant, yet the specific subjects of the pictures were all simple scenes of ponies enjoying one another's company, of large gatherings for festivals and the like, and curiously intimate landscapes of various parts of the town's geography.

All in all, a good bunch of reminders of who a public servant's responsibility is to, Thunderbird approvingly thought. This Ivory Scroll certainly knows her job. No wonder she's been re-elected for twenty years. Ditzy had of course given him a brief history lesson about the mayor before he had flown into town to apply for the weather team position, and the stallion was grateful for it as it placed her within a context he could use to relate to her. It certainly made the beginning of the interview easier on me, Thud remembered. So did having my stuff with me. He glanced to the floor at his side just then to eye his saddlebags, which he'd brought to carry the application he'd filled out at Ditzy's house, as well as his other possessions. I probably should have emptied the bags out, but really, a hat, a small electronic device, and a sack of coins hardly make for a burden on my back. And it was nice to know I've got everything here with me. Not that I don't trust Ditzy, just that I don't like leaving my only connections to home and my money anywhere out of my sight.

He was brought out of his ruminations then as the mayor placed the application down on her desk. “Well mister Thunderbird, I can't say I'm impressed with your work history,” she said evenly, gesturing to the portion that the pegasus had to be 'creative' with in order to match his experience with the reality he was now in. “Working for a chain of stores isn't exactly prime training for weather work.”

“I understand that, mayor,” Thunderbird interjected. “But neither is it a detriment. I'd like to think that the many years I put into that line of work”—that soul-crushing, Godforsaken work—“shows that I am, if anything, dedicated to giving my employer the best performance I can, and that I'm steadfast in my efforts.”

The mayor nodded in reply. “I can see that,” she allowed, and then glanced down at the paperwork again. “But this is an entirely different line of work.”

“Which is why I'm applying,” Thunderbird said. “Ma'am, have you ever worked retail for an extended period of time?”

The tan-coated mare pursed her lips as she went over her memories. “I can't say that I have,” she admitted. “I did do so for a few months before I realized my calling and entered the public sector.”

“And it wasn't exactly fun, was it?” Thunderbird asked, and then continued without waiting for an answer for he already knew it. “Now imagine having to do that for twelve years, and you should understand the depths of my distaste for continuing in that vein.

“So I'm looking for work that is most assuredly not in line with my previous experience,” the green stallion continued. “I know that puts me at a disadvantage, but as I said, I do have years of steady work behind me to show that I'm not some hair-brained fool. I'm not some guy who's going to slack around and screw everything up. Mind you, I know I'll make mistakes, but I promise you I do at least learn from them and as long as I've worked, I've known how to buckle down and do what needs to be done.”

The mayor, Ivory Scroll, pondered his words for a few moments. Finally, she nodded. “Well, I can certainly see where you're coming from,” she said. “I don't think I can just hire you, but I'm willing to give you a chance. So if you're willing to prove your words, I'll arrange for our team captain to give you an examination of her own design to see if you're fit for the work.”

Thunderbird felt his body freeze as his stomach twisted into shapes that would drive an elder god mad. Oh shiatsu, he thought. Rainbow Dash? Testing my skills? Images of flying through loops of burning fire and wrestling tornadoes danced through his mind, followed by the cyan pegasus throwing heavy objects for him to catch.

“Mister Thunderbird?” The mayor asked, startling the stallion.

“Oh, yes, sorry,” the dark green pegasus said, a blush on his face. “Well, miss mayor, if that's what you feel you need me to do, then I'll do it.”

“Good,” Ivory Scroll said, a polite and sincere smile on her muzzle. “I'll go make the arrangements.”

* * * *

Thunderbird trotted out of town hall, and then paused at the top of the steps leading to the main square to take a few calming breaths. It's okay man, you can do this, he told himself, and then began to walk down the stairs to the square. So Rainbow Dash is going to give you some sort of test. It's okay, just remember what Ditzy said: Best Pony Dash is professional, at least when it comes to her job. What's the worst that can happen?

Two words, he answered to himself. “Ghastly Gorge.”

...Well, shit.

The dark green stallion grunted to himself as he terminated his internal dialogue and returned his full attention to the world around him. He found that he had wandered off from the main square and was now walking almost lazily down a street lined with storefronts. So long as I'm awaiting my executioner, I might as well do some window shopping, Thunderbird thought as he glanced to his right, into a store's bay windows. He then paused and did a double take before chuckling to himself. The Quill and Sofa store. Oh Lord, I am so tempted to go in there and ask the owner how you get that combination.

Despite the alluring mystery of furniture mixed with stationary, Thunderbird decided to continue down the street and get an idea of the sorts of places the town supported. Somewhat to his surprise, the town's business district sported a number of antique shops, two small cafés, a full sized restaurant, and a at least two farming supply stores. Dear God, it's like every small town I've ever been in, he thought, feeling a sense of déjà vu. It's like Tryon, Landrum, Fairport Harbor, Narcoossee, and Saint Cloud all rolled into one. The only things missing are the gas stations, gun shops, and feed stores, and that's only because the ponies are their own transportation, only have medieval weapons, and shop at the market like normal folk.

Abruptly, one store caught his attention, and Thunderbird brought himself to a stop in front of a small shop at the end of the street, where the stores started to give way to regular houses again. It was in a small building that looked to have been a proper house itself at one point but later converted into a business, with a sign tacked over the front door proclaiming its name and hours of operation. “Vinyl's Scratch: Music, Equipment, and More.” No way, the stallion thought. This can't be her, can it? Oh, I have got to find out! With that decision made, Thunderbird moved his head back to make sure the straps on his bags were taut, and then turned back to the door and then pressed on the metal plate that seemed to replace doorknobs on most business's entrances. The door opened readily to the sound of a bell, and the stallion stepped inside.

Thunderbird blinked a bit as the interior was much darker than the outside, more so than he would presume from a business establishment. Still, it was not uncomfortably dark, and soon enough he saw that the house's old living room was now some kind of display floor for an assortment of musical instruments, primarily electronic in nature though a few acoustic guitars could be seen. How the heck do they play guitars without fingers, anyway? Thunderbird mused, as he let his eyes trace over the room until they alighted on a counter that had been built in a corner, laying between the living room and the doorway that led to the kitchen in one wall and a hallway leading deeper into the house on another.

As he looked over the various, smaller instruments sitting on shelving behind the counter, a white unicorn with a two-tone blue mane and tail walked in from the kitchen entrance. “Hey there!” She said, her muzzle decorated with a broad smile that reached up to her violet eyes. “Can I help you with something?”

The green pegasus blinked a bit in surprise at hearing her voice, as it was scratchy and not especially feminine, though not really androgynous, either. He recovered after only a moment, though, and then smiled. “Hello. I'm kinda just looking, if you don't mind?”

“Not at all, dude,” the mare replied, bobbing her head a bit in understanding. “I don't get many customers so any company's not bad at all. I talk a bit, though, so don't mind me.”

Thunderbird chuckled. “Miss, if there's anything I don't mind, it's a pretty lady talking to me,” he said with a smile, and then walked up to the counter and offered a hoof. “Name's Thunderbird, but you can call me Thud if'n you prefer.”

The white unicorn blushed at the compliment, but she took it in stride and easily reached up to shake the proffered hoof. “Thunderbird? Wicked name. I'm Vinyl Scratch, but you might know me by my DJ name—”

“DJ-PON3?” Thunderbird asked, pronouncing it “pone-three,” and then smiled when the mare gave him a surprised look. “I've heard of you, miss Scratch.”

“Oh really? Are you a fan?” Scratch asked, a smile returning to her face.

Thunderbird shrugged and smiled sheepishly. “Well, no,” he said, and then rubbed his right forehoof against the other leg as Scratch's smile turned into a look of confusion. “I've heard of you, but to tell the truth I haven't heard any of your actual work.” Except fan works playfully attributed to you, the stallion mentally added. Many of which are awesome, but I got no idea if you're that good as well.

Despite his admission, Vinyl's smile returned again, albeit to a lesser degree now. “Aw, that's cool. I'm still trying to make it big, yanno? That's why I still run the store here,” she said, and then waved a foreleg around the showroom. “Got any sort of modern instrument you could want up here, and the traditional stuff in the spare rooms in the back if you prefer them.”

The stallion chuckled ruefully at that. “Ah, no. I'm sorry miss Scratch, but I've got the musical talent of a rock and the signing voice of a blender,” he explained. “I just saw the sign out front and thought I'd see if it was really your store or not. Although, as long as I'm here, I wonder if you sell music, as well?”

Vinyl's face had fallen a bit at his polite negative, but the mention of music brought her spirits back up again. “Sure thing, dude! I've got any style or genre you could want,” she said, and then waved for the stallion to follow her behind the counter. “C'mon, I keep the albums in the kitchen.” With that, she turned and walked into the aforementioned room, leaving Thunderbird to trot through the singular opening in the counter and then follow through the doorway.

Ordinarily, the kitchen would have looked quite mundane, even for one made by and for ponies. This one, however, had numerous stacks of records and cassette tapes piled high on almost every available countertop, table, and chair, with only a tiny bit of space available for a single pony to make meals and eat. Scratch herself was already at one stack of media, using her magic to lift up and sort through the various albums. “I've got all the big names here, the Whoof, the Blue Moods, the Mossy Stones, the Weevils, “Elvy” Pressmane, the artist formerly known as Prancer, all that good stuff.”

“Wow,” Thunderbird said, and then blinked in surprised. Jeeze, how many ways can someone mutilate a band's name? “Okay, not bad. Where do you keep your Metal?” he asked, deciding to move things along. Besides, I'm morbidly curious at how bad some of those names are.

The unicorn mare, though, just paused and then turned around to face the stallion. “Uh, dude, this is a music shop,” she said, giving him a confused look. “If you want metal, go to the smith.”

Thunderbird returned the confused look, and then raised it with a cocked eyebrow. “Uhm, no. Not metal metal, I mean the Metal genre. You know, a subset of rock and roll?”

Scratch frowned as she lowered the records down and then released her magical hold on them. “I've never heard of it. Is it new?” she asked.

Silence reigned for a moment as her words sank into the pegasus' brain. “You're kidding, right?” he asked, as he raised a single eyebrow. “Because that's like, some kind of sacrilege. You don't joke 'bout that sort of thing, that just ain't right.”

Vinyl gave the stallion an incredulous look. “Dude, seriously, I've never heard of any kind of music called 'Metal' before,” she evenly replied.

Thunderbird blinked hard. “Maybe you call it something else, here?” he asked, bemused. “How about I name some bands and you tell me if any of them sound familiar?” Or at least sound like whatever ponified name they'd have here, he mentally added.

“Okay,” Scratch said, slightly dragging out the second syllable. “I don't know that Ponyville or even the Heartland has different names for rock music, but I'll see if I recognize anything.”

“Alright,” Thunderbird agreed, and then paused to gather his thoughts and his breath. “Well, my favorite band is Iron Savior, how about them?” he inquisitively asked.

“Never heard of 'em,” Scratch replied, with a shrug of her shoulders that lowered the front part of her body briefly.

Well, they do do mainly sci-fi themes, Thunderbird thought, and then pressed on. “Okay, how about Sabaton?” he asked, but the reply was a shake of the head. “Turisas? Alestorm? Iron Maiden? Keldian? Manowar? Gamma Ray? Megadeth? Accept? Helloween? Hammerfall? Saxon? Judas Priest? Iced Earth?” Every question received a confused, odd look, or a shake of the head, and at that moment something small snapped in his mind. Thunderbird walked up to Vinyl Scratch and then pushed his face into hers. “For the love of God, please tell me you've at least heard of Metallica?” Even if their post-Black stuff does suck donkey balls.

“Dude, personal space,” Scratch replied, as she lit up her horn. Thunderbird blinked in surprise as he felt something pull on his tail and drag him back a few paces.

“Oh, er, sorry,” the green stallion said, as a blush crept over his face. He lowered his head and stared at the floor as he continued. “I just kind of got carried away there, miss Scratch.”

A moment of silence met his words, though it was cut mercifully short by a mare's sigh. “Aw, that's okay I guess,” Vinyl said, and then offered a wan smile as Thunderbird looked back up at her. “I can understand dedication to good music, after all,” she said, and then briefly shifted her hips out so the stallion could catch a glance of her cutie mark. “I wouldn't have this if I wasn't a bit crazy about it myself.”

Both her and Thunderbird shared a brief chuckle at that, and the stallion grinned as a thought entered his head. “Well if that's the case, would you care to listen to some Metal from my personal collection?” He asked. “I've got a bit of it on me right now.” A whole metric assload of it, actually, he didn't say. “Hopefully you'll see, or rather, hear what I'm talking about.”

Scratch thought about it for a moment, and then shrugged again. “Sure,” she said, a bit of her earlier cheeriness seeping back into her tone. “C'mon back into the main room with me,” the mare added as she turned around and led the stallion out of the kitchen. “I've got a set of portable pony-back speakers I've been meaning to test.”

“Really?” Thunderbird asked, his tone surprised as he followed the unicorn out. “That sort of thing common 'round here?”

“Nah,” Scratch said, as she led them into the showroom and then across it to a shelf set up on the wall opposite of the kitchen entrance. On top of it sat an unusual, canvas harness that held a pair of full-range speakers. A universal jack poked out of the cloth at one point, near a small pocket that looked about the right size for a Walkman. “This thing is usually for pegasi making long-haul flights, where they want to listen to music to keep their brains from shutting down, but still need their ears uncovered so they don't miss a dangerous noise,” the white unicorn explained. “Unfortunately, most ponies in Ponyville are happy with their phonographs and other old stuff. Kinda limits my sales, but I make up for it by repairing all the old junk when it fails.” The unicorn shrugged at that. “Anyway, I haven't had a chance to test this set since it came in last month. I sold the only tape player I had just before the shipment came in and like I said, most of this stuff is old; too old to use the new jacks. So let's hear what you got there, crazy stallion.”

Thunderbird smiled at the mare, and then turned his head and neck back so he could work at the saddlebag on his flank. A few practiced maneuvers soon had the bag open for him to duck his head into, and he quickly lowered it to lightly clasp his teeth around the mysterious music device that had come with him. Or appeared with me, I should say, the stallion thought as he lifted the device out and then moved it to the shelf. I've never heard of any portable device with a five-petabyte drive, especially one loaded with just about all the music I've ever owned or heard. He had spent nearly an hour staring at the device once he'd taken the time to examine it, and Thunderbird suppressed a shiver at the memories of inspecting the touchscreen device's onboard owner's manual. I mean, sweet Jesus, five petabytes!

“What is that thing?” Vinyl asked, her brows furrowed in frustrated ignorance. “I've never seen anything like it.”

“Oh, it's just a little toy I found,” Thunderbird said, trying not to sound superior nor disturbed by having the device. “It's got some terrific data density, though.”

“Data what now?” Scratch asked as the green pegasus balanced on his hind legs and used his foreleg hooves to move the speakers' plug towards the universal jack on the music player.

“It means it holds a lot of songs inside it,” Thunderbird replied, and then turned the device on before he dropped to all fours again. More ripping off of CardsLafter, he thought as the player went through its brief start-up cycle. Dang thing never runs out of juice. I wonder why? He pushed such thoughts aside as the menu came up, and he reached up with a hoof to cycle through the stored songs. “Now, let's see, what would be a good song to introduce you?” he asked aloud, more for Scratch's benefit so she knew what he was doing. Suddenly the idea hit him, and Thunderbird smiled as he selected a specific song. “This one is called 'Caught Somewhere In Time' by the band Iron Maiden.”

“Yeah, you mentioned—” Vinyl started to say, but then was cut off as the music started. She listened intently through the intro, and then widened her eyes as the song picked itself up and promptly ran off with her attention.

Six minutes later, the song died out and Thunderbird reached over with a hoof to put the device on pause before it jumped to the next shuffled track. “So, miss Scratch, what do you think?” he asked, turning to the mare.

“I think that song just kicked my flank,” Vinyl replied, a grin on her face. “Not quite to my personal tastes, but it was definitely an awesome performance.”

Thunderbird chuckled at that. “Well, I don't expect everyone to love the same things as I do. I like electronic music myself, but Metal will always be tops in my book.”

“I don't blame you,” Vinyl said with a nod. “Like I said, it may not be my favorite, but it's pretty wicked. What else you got in that fancy thing?”

The green pegasus grinned. “I've got plenty. Mostly Metal, but a lot of other stuff, too if you've got the time?”

“Lay it on me, Thud.”

* * * *

Rainbow Dash flew through the air with a borderline recklessness, as was her idiom. While most days this was due to her practicing to join the Wonderbolts, today it was due to the fact that she was dodging past houses, shops, trees, and any other obstacle one finds close to the ground. “Alright, where is that weirdo?” she asked herself as she soared along. I can't believe the mayor wants me to see if he's capable, she thought as she zipped along, looking for the uniquely large pegasus. The guy's got a loose screw or something. Still, if that's what the mayor wants, I'll give the guy a chance. Just one, but a chance.

Of course, it would help if I could find the doofus. The cyan pegasus frowned as she took another pass along Mane Street, getting a series of annoyed looks from the ponies whose manes she disrupted with her slipstream. Ivory Scroll said she turned him out two hours ago. I checked at Ditzy's already but nopony's there, and I even went to Sweet Apple Acres, but AJ said she hasn't seen him. Dash was naturally becoming quite frustrated, and part of her wanted to just go to the mayor and tell her to write off the strange stallion.

Rainbow shook her head at the thought as she made a turn. No, that's not fair. The mayor said she didn't give him a specific time because she didn't know when I'd check in, so I guess I can't blame him for not hanging around town hall doing nothing. But still, where is he?

A few more minutes and several passes through town finally saw the mare slow to a stop in mid-air by the business district. “That's it, I give up,” Dash said, crossing her forelegs over her chest as she hovered in a bipedal-like attitude. “I don't know where that strange... weird... music?” she asked, as her attention was caught by strains of an unfamiliar song. “Huh?” she muttered, and then looked around until her ears found the source of the music. Vinyl's store? That doesn't sound like her usual stuff, Dash thought, and then gave herself a mental shrug. Well, I've got nothing else to do until Dunderbird pops up, she thought, and then promptly pushed herself into motion. A quick flight was followed by a hasty landing, and Dash paused outside the door to Scratch's shop to listen to the music and the voice singing.

That sounds pretty good, actually, Rainbow thought, as she pushed the door to the shop open, only to flinch when the sheer volume of the music assaulted her ears. She winced and folded her ears back automatically, yet her curiosity was piqued as the strange music took on a clarity because of its volume. Thus she pushed in and then stopped to let her eyes adjust while her ears absorbed the vocals.

The sudden onslaught of the solo section hammered into her ears, and Dash closed her eyes as the alien strains enraptured her mind. She stayed like this throughout the rest of the song, just listening, until the final vocal and drumbeat ended the song with an abrupt cutoff that stunned her brain and left her breathless for a half moment.

“Enjoyed that, did you?” the familiar voice of Vinyl Scratch asked, and Rainbow smiled broadly as she opened her eyes to look at the white unicorn.

“Hay yes! Where'd you get that music from?” the cyan pegasus asked. Then she realized there was a third pony in the room, and she glanced over to the stallion briefly. She started to turn to Scratch again, but then did a double-take as she realized who it was. “Hey, it's you!” she said, pointing a foreleg at the green pegasus.

“Uh, yeah,” Thunderbird said, quiet despite the recent song still ringing in his ears. Despite knowing that he needed to meet with the rainbow-maned pony, he still felt trapped by her sudden appearance. Especially because she's between me and the door.

“You two know each other?” Scratch asked, an expression of mild surprise on her features.

“Sort of,” Thunderbird answered. “We, ah, nearly collided yesterday.”

Vinyl chuckled at that. “That's common enough when Rainbow's around,” she merrily said.

Dash rolled her eyes at the unicorn. “Funny, Vinyl,” the blue mare said, and the looked to the stallion. “Where the hay have you been? The mayor sent me to look for you fifteen minutes ago.”

Thunderbird blushed as Dash addressed him, and he felt his throat start to clamp up a bit. “Uh, just hangin' out, you know?” he asked, nervously. “Figured I'd take a look in here, listen to some music. That sort of thing.”

“He's got some pretty sweet tracks in his collection,” Vinyl piped in, smirking a bit as she saw the sudden tension in the room. “We were just listening to one. What'd you say it was again, Thud?” Scratch asked as she glanced to the green pegasus.

“It's called 'I Want Out' by Helloween,” Thunderbird replied, feeling a bit less tense talking about his favorite music. “It's a good example of old school speed metal.”

“Yeah, it's wild,” Scratch said with a nod. “That Metal stuff is pretty awesome. I still like the electronic stuff you got better, though.”

“Well, to each his own,” Thunderbird replied, managing an easy smile at the unicorn. “Or her own, in your case. Point is, there's room enough in the world for all sorts of awesome music.”

“Gotta agree with ya there,” Vinyl added with a chuckle.

A cleared throat brought both of the music appreciating ponies' heads around to face Dash, who looked on impatiently. “Look, it was definitely awesome. And radical. But I've got business with this weirdo,” she said, and pointed a hoof at Thunderbird. “Gotta see if he can handle the weather team work he's applying for.”

“Yeah, we should get going on that,” Thunderbird agreed, and then turned to fully face the white mare at his side. “Miss Scratch, it was fun hanging out with you today,” he said, a grin on his muzzle.

“Same here, dude!” Scratch replied, with a grin of her own. “Come back anytime. Well, anytime I'm open, anyway,” she added, and then watched for a moment as the stallion turned to collect his music player.

“Fanks,” Thunderbird said as he picked up the player and then put it into his saddlebags. “Say, how much are you selling that rig for, anyway?” he asked, and then gestured towards the speaker harness.

Vinyl grinned again. “Normally I'd sell it for seventy bits. But I kinda like you, so I'll give it to ya for fifty.”

Thunderbird blushed a bit at the compliment. “Why, thank you, miss Scratch,” he said. Then he sighed briefly. “Don't quite have the money for it yet, but if that price stays good I'll be back for it after I get some pay saved up.”

“Heh, no probs man,” Scratch said, and then held up a hoof. Thunderbird raised his to shake, but before he could do so the mare just bumped her hoof into his and then lowered her leg. “It'll probably be here, with the way ponies in this town upgrade.”

“Sweet,” Thunderbird replied, and then turned and nodded to the other pegasus in the room. “Alright miss Dash, let's get to business.”

* * * *

The two flying ponies made the trip in silence to a field just north of Ponyville. There Thunderbird saw a series of clouds of different sizes, shapes, and shades set up and waiting patiently. Now there's an adjective I wouldn't have assigned to a cloud, the dark green pegasus mused as he followed Rainbow Dash. Of course in this world clouds actually behave sometimes. Speaking of which... His thoughts trailed off as he watched Dash alight on the nearest of the stationary moisture pockets, and he concentrated on his own maneuvering so he could do the same without disturbing the other pegasus or disrupting the cloud. Good thing Ditzy taught me how to handle this stuff.

“Alright,” Rainbow said, after she watched the stallion land to her right. “The mayor wants to give you a shot since you're the only pony who's applied since the position came open. Since it's just overnight monitoring and you'll be coming to get me in a real emergency, I've only set up a basic course,” the weather mare spoke, giving off an air of annoyance. Then she pointed a foreleg off towards the left side of the arranged clouds. “First, I want you to sort that group on the left. Line them up from smallest to largest parallel to the fence below.” Dash pointed down just then, and Thunderbird cautiously edged forward to look over the side of the cloud, and he indeed saw a property line fence on the ground. “You won't be timed, but if you take too long that will definitely be a mark against you.

“Next, I want you to disperse all of the clouds in the central group,” Dash continued, again pointing her foreleg towards the subjects of her words. “I will be timing you on this one. I don't expect you to match my awesome speed, but if you can't do it quickly enough then we can't use you.

“Finally, the group on the right,” Dash added, though this time she just gestured with her head as she lowered her leg back to the cloud. “Two are rain heavy, the third is electrically charged. I want you to figure out which is which, then start one of the rainclouds pouring and then move the second one out to the center area without it raining.” Rainbow fell silent for a moment after she finished speaking, and then looked over at Thunderbird. “Think you can handle that?” She cockily asked.

“Well, we'll see, won't we?” Thunderbird evenly asked, and then cast a sidelong glance at the other pony. “Are you going to give me a countdown, or shall I just go?”

“Whenever you're ready, flycolt,” Dash replied with a shrug.

Thunderbird grunted at that, and then took a long look around the area. After that, he took in a deep breath and then absentmindedly nodded. “Alrighty then,” he said, and then jumped off of the cloud, his wings spreading out a moment later. He flapped his wings hard a few times to gain some altitude over the aerial course and then turned to glide over the clouds on the left side of the field. A few moments of study revealed to him the proper order and the line, and soon the green pegasus swooped down and promptly began to shove clouds as instructed.

* * * *

Alright, I guess he's not completely incompetent, Dash thought, as she watched Thunderbird align the clouds in the first test far more easily than she thought he could do. Let's see his speed, then, her mind added as the dark green stallion turned and then shot off towards the center of the test field with a furious pumping of his wings. Heh, typical rookie mistake, she thought, as she watched Thunderbird approach the central cloud group too fast to make the close turns he'd need to cut through the spread out bank. Then suddenly his wings snapped out and remained stretched, and to Rainbow's surprise, the green pegasus made an abrupt, sharp turn that should have spilled the air under his wings and sent him careening downward.

Her memory of yesterday came back as she watched Thunderbird cut a swath through several clouds in a row by curving hard and riding the centrifugal force of his turn. We did almost crash because I didn't realize he could turn that well, Dash admitted to herself as she watched Thunderbird soar out from the cloud cluster a bit before turning back to make another curving pass. How does he do that, though? You can't maintain a turn like that without power and a steady wing surface, and pegasus magic isn't that strong... usually. Rainbow begrudgingly added the last word, as she realized she was watching another pony that seemed to have figured out the same idea she had after making a sonic rainboom for the first time as a filly. Airflow across all surfaces, so you don't need to change wing position to get more power, and so you can keep skin-tight control through the whole turn.

Rainbow Dash shook her head briefly at that as she continued to watch Thunderbird. But it took me years of training and practice and straining to get this way, she thought as the green stallion finished his second task and then turned in his flight to angle for the last test area. He admitted on the application that he doesn't have much flying experience beyond getting from one place to another. Is he just a natural? She had to admit part of her felt a bit jealous at that, though she put it out of her mind as she keenly kept an eye on Thunderbird. Okay, difficult part of the test coming up. If he hits the wrong cloud too hard and gets shocked I'll probably have to catch his flank before he hits the ground.

* * * *

Thunderbird approached the closest of the dark clouds, and then transitioned to a hover just a meter or so away from it. Alright, so how am I supposed to tell which has rain and which is loaded with electricity? he wondered, with a frown crossing his muzzle. He snorted at the situation, but as he did something tickled his nose, and he coughed slightly in response. Wow, that was like taking a hard sniff of some moist air.

If lightbulbs could really appear over a person's head when an idea struck, one would have appeared then. Moisture! Thunderbird realized. And strong, too; must be a rain-heavy cloud. Okay, let's move this one first, that way if I screw up and start it raining I still have a chance with the other one. With that, he pitched his wing flaps to nudge himself forward, and then took in a deep breath and lightly placed he forelegs on the side. He let out his breath when he couldn't hear the sound of rain, and then flapped his wings and turned both himself and the cloud around until he was aimed at the center of the test area. After that it was a simple affair to push it over to the indicated area, and soon Thunderbird was gliding back towards the two remaining clouds.

Now, gotta be careful here, he told himself, as he approached the closest cloud and slowed to a near stop. He then took in a big wiff, and then widened his eyes. Ozone! Thunderbird propelled himself backwards with a few heavy flaps before he resumed a hover. His heart still beat fast, however, and the pegasus took a moment to catch his breath. Okay, definitely not that one, then, he mused, and then turned and flew to the one remaining cloud. A quick sniff for caution's sake told him it was a 'wet' one, and a quick landing on the top started the water pouring from the underside.

“Not bad,” a voice said, and Thunderbird turned around on the cloud to see Rainbow Dash hovering a few feet away. “Good call smelling the clouds; you won't believe how many ponies don't use anything but their eyes.”

“You'd be surprised at what I could believe,” Thunderbird retorted. “So, did I pass?”

Dash gave him a long look, but soon enough nodded. “Yeah, you pass the basics,” she admitted, warily. “But don't think this means you can go storm-busting by yourself or anything like that.”

“Perish the thought,” Thunderbird replied, evenly. “I'll just be happy to have a decent job that doesn't suck the soul right out of my body.”

The cyan pegasus gave him a look. “Uh, yeah,” she replied, unsure. “Anyway, let's fly back to town hall and talk to the mayor. I'll let her know you can at least keep an eye on the place.”

“Well okay then,” Thunderbird said, and then launched himself into the air. He didn't take off immediately, however, but remained in a hover as a new idea entered his brain. “Say, miss Dash,” he began, and then couldn't help but smirk as he asked the question on his mind. “Is it safe to jump on top of that lightning cloud just once and have it go boom?”

Rainbow frowned back at the green pegasus. “That's really sort of more advanced work,” she replied, warily.

“Bull,” Thunderbird countered. “I heard you used one as a prank on Nightmare Night,” he said, and then smiled broadly as the mare blushed. “I'm not even asking to push it near the ground, I just wanna stomp on it once and let loose some thunder.”

Dash sighed exasperatedly. “Fine,” she ground out, as she crossed her forelegs over her barrel. “But make sure you land on the top; you might get shocked otherwise.”

“Woot!” Thunderbird said, and then flew towards the aforementioned cloud. He approached from above, and then slowly, deftly landed on the coagulated mass so that the cloud merely rumbled slightly rather than spit out lightning.

Okay, careful now, the stallion told himself. Then he grinned madly, took in a deep breath, and then reared up on his hind legs. “I! Am! THOR!” he shouted, and then slammed his front limbs back down to the thundercloud. Bolts of lightning shot out and into the air at that, as the ear-splitting thunder of their passage roared into the heavens. Thunderbird winced at the noise, but soon started laughing in a maniacal fashion.

Rainbow Dash looked on this scene with some concern. Didn't Luna laugh like that when she was Nightmare Moon? The cyan pegasus mused, and then flew over to the cloud. “Uh, are you okay?” she asked, as she hovered just above the cloud and its occupant as the latter's laughter died out.

“Just fine, miss Dash,” Thunderbird replied, in between chuckles. “Just getting some fun in before the work begins. I know I'm not going to be able to do this all the time, after all,” he added, with a friendly smile.

“Uh, yeah,” Dash said, as her mind reset its picture of the stallion again. Does this guy like to be contrary? she mused to herself. “Anyway, if that's out of your system, let's go talk to the mayor.”

“Aye aye, captain Bligh,” Thunderbird replied, as he tossed a salute with his right foreleg.

“What?” Dash asked, no utterly confused.

Thunderbird blinked, and then blushed as he realized what he said. “Oh, uh, sorry; old cultural reference,” he explained. Then he spread his wings an took to the air in a hover. “Please, lead on.”

Rainbow shot him another confused look, but then shrugged to herself and turned to head back to town. Whatever. I won't be dealing with him except on shift changes, anyway, she thought, with only a brief pause to glance back to make sure the other pegasus followed her. The sooner I'm done with this, the sooner I can ignore this weirdo and get back to practicing for the Wonderbolts.

Author's Note:

So yeah, depressed and stuck in my other stories again, so out comes the self-indulgent crap. Hopefully I can focus on better stuff now.

And yes, I really, really, REALLY wanted to introduce the ponies to my favorite Metal. \m/

Comments

[Rokas]

1809469
You have no idea. I wasted another hour and a half just by checking on the TVTropespage for my other story, Falling Stars.

It's a quagmire of mind-trapping, bite-sized ideas that you can't have just one.

[Beyond the Horizon]

But Rock, this is good! Even if it is self-indulgent.

No shame in having a little self-indulgence every now and again, in moderation.