Embracing the Fog

by SunnyDays

8 - A Brewing Storm

The loop repeated over and over, each iteration worse than the last. He was in freefall again, watching helplessly as the ground grew closer with each second. Soarin tried to open his wings, but it was as if he didn’t have any. He tried closing his eyes, but they remained focused on the slowly approaching ground. Blinking wasn’t an option, either.

Screaming? Nothing but a croak came pitifully from his throat, as much as he clawed at it with his hooves. He would be saved if he could just scream - or make any noise at all - but again, nothing but a pathetic whimper.

He watched as the ground was in two hooves’ length, and in a shot of adrenaline - he could blink, and he could scream. It was cut off when he opened his eyes again and found himself right back up at the top of his fall. Again. And Again. And Again. Never losing the sensation and adrenaline of dropping, his blood pounding to bursting with fear and energy that couldn’t be relieved.

No one was coming to save him. He couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t help himself.

The sky around him grew brighter and brighter as he continued to plummet, becoming brighter as he grew closer to the ground than he had any of the other cycles before. Fear pummeled through his veins, almost feeling as if they’d solidified, as he neared the end.

All of the lights flipped on as soon as the three o’clock mark hit, as if on a timer itself. Groggily, Soarin pulled a pillow over his face, only to have it slip between his hooves and subsequently slammed down onto his face.

“AUUUGH!” He yelled as he was met with an airy giggle from his younger sister. All of the pent up energy pushed up behind the scream, and he looked around him and Nightshade’s bunk, disoriented. Nightshade grinned at him as he drowsily came into consciousness.

“Oh look, it’s like you’re in Cloudsdale High again,” Nightshade smirked as she struck his face with the fluffy, air-filled pillow once again. “Brooooo, can you bring me to fliiiight caaaamp?” She drew out the vowels with the highest pitched voice she could manage, imitating a pout.

Soarin groaned louder, and turned away, trying to hide the confusion and fear on his face for a moment. “No… Not the stallion’s locker rooms again. I can still taste the cologne…” He was met with one more whapping with the pillow, and popped up from the bed suddenly, “That’s it!” He exclaimed, grabbing Nightshade’s pillow from her bed, “Come ‘ere!”

Nightshade replied by flinging Soarin’s pillow with her wing, hitting him point-blank on the snout. It slid down his disappointed face in a near comedic fashion. “There. Good. You’re up and ready for early morning training!” Nightshade opened the door to their bunk, grinning deviously as she trotted out.

Soarin rubbed his face with his hooves, tossing Nightshade’s pillow aside with the shake of his head. With her out of the room, he could catch his breath and pounding heartbeat. Nevertheless, he was up, and aware that the nightmare was over. It was funny how a pound of stuffing to the face could wake a stallion up so quickly, even at three o’clock.

As he stepped out of his room, he noticed how the others were already up and looking decently awake. Even Charger didn’t seem to have a problem, despite the entire barrel of alcohol he had downed last night in their little drinking escapade. Granted, considering that he couldn’t see Charger’s eyes, the stallion could be high as a kite for all he knew.

Soarin himself felt exhausted, going straight into the kitchen and downing a coffee in haste. When he poked his head out of the kitchen again, the rest of the team was almost done suiting up.

“So...I don’t have a uniform like you guys do,” Soarin stated the obvious.

“No, but I’ve put in the order for one to be made for you,” Nightshade said.

Soarin tilted his head a little. “Erm, but what if I don’t make it in?”

She flashed him a sly smile. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

A warm feeling rushed over Soarin, and he saw the determined look Nightshade gave him. He was her brother. She had no doubt that he’d pass everything that Stratus threw at him.

“Namely: I’ll be taking it.” Charger cut into the warm and fuzzies.

“Err… Why you?” Soarin asked.

“Because you’re sure as shit not giving it to the mares. And just look at Stratus! The dude’s a mountain!”

“Mountains cannot fly,” Stratus responded evenly.

“Hey, I was talkin about ya, not to ya.”

Stratus made a mental note to make Charger’s training even harsher today.

Suddenly, Soarin was much less tired than earlier. “Let me grab my Wonderbolts suit.” He said, “It’s not the same as yours, but it should be enough to cover me for this morning’s training.”

Stratus snorted, “You’re not coming with us. You’ll be in the kitchen preparing breakfast for when we return.”

Soarin paused, “But what about-?”

“Your training will begin when we return. You’d best warm up after our meal’s been started, you’ll need it.” With that, Stratus turned on his heel and headed out of the base.

“Sorry, dude.” Charger said, pushing Soarin’s side lightly as he passed.

“You’ll do wonderfully.” Starry nodded to him before she and the others filed out, leaving Soarin alone in the base.

Soarin stood in the middle of the empty and quiet base for a moment, taking in the silence around him. It had been a while since he was left to deal with things by himself, and the base seemed to echo with each hoofstep he took. In the kitchen, he was able to scrounge up a few ingredients to make a nice batter for pancakes or waffles. He wasn’t really sure how long they’d take to go on their low-temperature excursion, nor what that even looked like. He did know, however, that the silence in the base left him to his own thoughts.

So, he whistled a merry tune as he flipped the pancakes and piled them high, allowing himself to zone in on just the motions of the job in front of him. It wasn’t glamorous and soon all of their decent food supplies would run short, sure, but at least he felt comfortable in his own abilities. In the kitchen or otherwise. As Stratus suggested, Soarin took a moment to stretch out his wings. When the pancakes had finally piled higher than the inhabitants of the base could possibly eat, Soarin made his way to the middle of the main room and began to trot in place.

When the door opened, he was expecting to see the team back. However, only Blueball Blitz stood in the room. Her body was actively buzzing with the electricity that covered it, and it wasn’t clear if she was slowly sliding towards him on purpose or not.

“Uh, Blitz?” Soarin took a step back. “Do you need help?”

“NOPE! Igotitholdon!” She shook off like a dog, the electricity fading back to its normal levels across the mare’s mane. “Heya Soarin! Are the others doing their high altitude training?”

“Uhh, yeah. Want some pancakes?”

“DO I?!” Blitz scampered into the kitchen with Soarin following cautiously.

With how many flapjacks Blitz was piling onto her plate, Soarin started to question whether his assertion about having too many was a false call.

“Sho~” Blitz slurred, her mouth full of food, “Derd I mush yur fursh day?”

Soarin took a seat with her but didn’t grab any food of his own just yet, “Nope, that’s today. You’re right on time.”

“YUUSH!” Blitz’s hooves waved in the air, “Schweet!”

“Did you, eh, take the time off that you needed?” Soarin asked her, “Weren’t you on leave?”

“Yep!” Blitz had finally finished swallowing her mouthful of pancake, “Talked to my brother and took some time to myself and stuff! Raring to go!”

“In 16 hours…?” Soarin trailed off with a confused blink.

“YEP!” Blitz bounced, “I’m fast action! Quick work! NUUOOM~!”

Soarin let out a chuckle, “But weren’t you supposed to be on vacation?”

“Soarin, a vacation just means that I don’t do work. It doesn’t matter where I do it!” Blitz giggled.

“Guess that makes sense. A staycation.” Soarin said, going back to his warm-up spot.

“Ooooohh, you’re gonna need more of a warmup than that if you’re dealing with Stratus!” Blitz giggled.

Soarin looked up at her, “Do you know what I should expect?”

“Nope! Stratus individualizes alllll his training regimens! Just expect to feel like wiggly, wiggly jelly when you’re all done! He’s gonna push you to your limit!”

“Great…” Soarin sighed, adding a few wing-ups to his warm up. He continued to warm up for what seemed to be fifteen minutes or so before the base door swung open, and the rest of the team came inside.

“Blitz?” Nightshade blinked as the hyper mare ran over to greet them.

“I’m baaack~!” She bounced.

“Um, welcome back…” Nightshade quirked an eyebrow at her as Stratus moved past them and over to Soarin.

“Did you eat?” He asked, standing over the smaller stallion.

“No.” Soarin admitted, “But the food’s on the table for everyone else.”

Stratus shook his head, “In the future: eat. It’s too late now.” He walked past Soarin, “I don’t want to clean up after you if you try to eat now.” He stopped, looking back at the other stallion, “Well?” He snorted aggressively, “You going to lounge around like Spitfire and Fleetfoot, or are you coming?”

Soarin’s eyebrow’s furrowed, and his lips pressed tightly together as he trotted up to follow Stratus.

“You were the Wonderbolts’ trainer, correct?”

Soarin nodded.

“Good.” A smile spread over Stratus’s face. Soarin watched as Charger flinched at the sight of the elder stallion’s grin, and Starry looked slightly worried for Soarin. Stratus turned his back again, “I’ll be able to kick your ass twice as hard when you give up.”

The others in the room stared at him like he was dead in the water, but Nightshade gave him a reassuring smile. That was enough for Soarin to lift his head high and follow Stratus into the room where his mettle as a Shadowbolt would be tested.

It looked like a general gym room if Soarin was honest with himself. However, Stratus was not the kind of stallion to question, so Soarin simply waited to be directed.

“To be a Shadowbolt, there are five specific skills that you must master to the utmost extent. If you don’t master them, you’re dead. If you don’t listen to commands, you’re dead. If you cannot think for yourself on solo missions, you’re dead. Understand me, Greenwing?”

“Yes, sir.” Soarin nodded.

“The six things you need, rookie: Strong body, strong mind, stealth tactics, weapon mastery, climate adaptability, and most importantly… the ability to kill another.”

Soarin knew that was coming, but it didn’t make him any more comfortable with the idea. Then again, he figured that it would come with time and that he’d cross that bridge when he got there.

Instead, he asked, “What weapons?”

Stratus turned around, going over to some sort of bench with a sheet on it. Soarin followed at a distance, unsure if he was supposed to be coming along. Stratus pulled off the sheet two reveal three weapons: the first was some sort of brace of knives that looked like it was trying to imitate a pegasus wing.

“Wingblades,” Stratus said, not even looking at Soarin at this point. “For close-quarters.”

Next to the wingblades was some sort of bow thing that looked like it attached somewhat awkwardly to his hoof by a belt.

“Crossbow, a stolen tech from the griffons and slightly modified so that we can use it. Though, it’s better from distances and heights.”

Stacked up next to the crossbow were several jars of some sort of strange liquids. On the front of each jar, there were symbols of various types, but one had a striking viper head on the front.

“Poisons!” Soarin realized aloud.

Stratus let out a chuckle, “Sometimes the classic way is just the best for the job.”

He pulled out something from around the side of the bench. It was like a crossbow, but there were darts on it instead of arrows. Stratus casually opened one of the jars that Soarin couldn’t see the symbol of and dipped each of the darts’ needles into it. Then, he loaded one into the crossbow thing.

“Now~,” He said smoothly, “Dodge.”

Soarin took a moment to register the command before the first dart was fired right toward his chest, and he rapidly shot into the air with a screech.

---

“AAAAAUUUUGGGH!”

Soarin’s screams were so loud the gathered Shadowbolts eating at the table were able to hear it clearly.

“Dear Celestia, Stratus works fast.” Starry flinched as she bit into one of the pancakes.

Nightshade was reading a newspaper on the other side of the table, “Uhh huh.”

Shoving another pancake into his gullet, Charger shook his head, “I’ll mish the guy.”

“Charger, shut up, he’ll be fine,” Nightshade replied, gripping the newspaper harder than she intended to.

“He didn’t get Starry screaming this quickly when she was in training,” Charger rebuked.

Nightshade scowled, “I told him to be extra hard on Soarin, alright?!”

Her sudden outburst made the table go quiet.

“...He’s screwed.” Charger continued by downing a black coffee in requiem.

Nightshade just hoped that Stratus wouldn’t rip her brother apart.

Comments

[dshadow14]

Charger didn’t seem to have a problem, despite the entire barrel of alcohol he had downed last night in their little drinking escapade. Granted, considering that he couldn’t see Charger’s eyes, the stallion could be high as a kite for all he knew.

Did I miss something? Why would he be high?

[Vaguely Demented]

9632149
Maybe he assumed that the apothecary of the team could have heavily dosed himself to deal with the hangover.

[SunnyDays]

9632149
It’s a small detail, but Charger is never seen without his goggles covering his face. So even if Charger was high, none would be the wiser.