Ponywatching

by ThunderTempest

Prompt #250: Danger Zone

Fifteen minutes doesn’t sound like a whole lot of time. It’s not what you would imagine a lifetime of training would come down to, but it has. Well, technically twenty. I’ve still got five minutes before I have to go on.

I can’t believe that this is actually happening. Finally, I mean. Sure, I always knew I’d get a tryout, ‘cause seriously, I’m awesome. I put my request in the second I was able to, but that first one was turned down, with Spitfire writing ‘Not this time. You’re not ready,’ in the rejection letter. That confused me a bit, because seriously? What more do you want, Spitfire?

Well, let me tell you, that next conversation I had with her was enlightening, for sure. She reckons I can be better than Firefly, who is like my second favourite Wonderbolt ever. Spitfire being first, of course, and I’m not just saying that. She’s seriously cool. So yeah, no big deal, all she wants me to do is set a new standard. Do you know how big a deal that is? So I won’t just get to be a Wonderbolt, but I’ll be the Wonderbolt that every future applicant is judged against. Seriously, I would have just been happy with flying with them, but now I find out that practically every ‘Bolt thinks I can do this, and oh my gosh that’s awesome.

In the waiting room, there’s an engraved list that I’ve been staring at for the last four, five minutes. It’s a list of every single pony who’s ever redefined the physical requirements for the Wonderbolts. Sure, it doesn’t hold the same wonder as their speed records, or the time they sold out Las Pegasus Stadium, but it’s a seriously impressive list. And they think I can add my name to that list.

Three minutes left until I go on now. Flight suit check time. Gotta make sure nothing’s chafing-I know Rare said it wouldn’t, and damn it feels good, but still gotta check. Official regs say I have to wear my Wonderbolt Recruit uniform, but Spitfire said that that’s just to filter out the pretenders. The real ones, the ones who know they’re going to get in usually have their own, personalized flight suits. Wings are free, complete movement. Hooves are in place, and the fabric’s not shifting underhoof. It’s tight, but not too tight, around my face. I’m not feeling it bunch up anywhere. As a test, I flip myself backwards. Yep, full movement.

Well, that took up a couple of minutes. It’s an empty stadium out there-they don’t want any outside noise for this, but I can tell you there’s gonna be a whole bunch of enthusiasts sitting up near the high clouds with binoculars. I should know, I used to be one of them.

I’ve had my routine planned out for months for this. Spitfire, Soarin’ and all the rest have been working with me to refine it to the point where I could probably do it in my sleep by now. It’s officially Awesome. I wish Rare could be here to see it, but rules are rules, and she can’t. I’ll just have to regale her with tales of my awesome when I get back to Ponyville. That is, if she can keep her hooves off me long enough.

Well, there’s the first buzzer. Gate’s going to be opening soon. Fifteen minutes of Pure Awesome, coming up.

Second buzzer, the gate slams open, and I’m out there before the buzzer’s even stopped. Let’s do this.

*****

There’s about four other ponies trying out today, and now that we’re all done, we’ve all been lined up, waiting for the judges to give their decision. And maybe to find their wigs after I blew them off. Hey, it totally wasn’t my fault that they think I can’t do a sonic Rainboom on command. I’m still coming down from my adrenaline high, so my heart feels like it’s about to pound its way out of my chest, as the first two ponies are told to go away and improve for next time. I was last, so I’ve still got to wait for the old guys to give their decision on two more. One gets booted all the way back to application stage. Ouch, but they obviously didn’t think he was near wonderbolt material. The second to last is rubbing his wing. I think he sprained it during his performance. He’s thanked for his performance, and is told to reattend the academy next season.

“Rainbow Dash...” I hear the judges say. My heart seems to have leapt into my throat, and I can feel Spitfire, who’s standing behind me, shift about like she’s nervous.

“...Accepted.” I can’t help it. I leap into the air. I know that this is just to fly with the ‘Bolts, and I don’t know anything about the performance records, but I don’t care right now. I’m in the Wonderbolts. I can feel the other tryouts hugging me, and tossing me up and down. Eventually, we settle back down, and Spitfire looks at the judges.

“What about the performance standards?” she asks, and the judges glare at her.

“The performance standards will be looked at with relation to Rainbow Dash’s performance, and future applicants. Likely, they will be revised to account for the exceptional nature of her performance.” I’m not entirely sure what that means, but Spitfire’s smiling, so if it means what I think it means, my name’s going on a plaque.

Fifteen minutes isn’t a lot of time. But those fifteen minutes? They changed my life.

Who’s awesome? I’m awesome. But I gotta go now, because there’s a white unicorn dressmaker down in Ponyville who needs to be reminded of my awesome.

Author's Note:

Written for Prompt #250: “A Quarter ‘Til”
The prompt: Fifteen minutes. A quarter of an hour. That’s all the time I have, so I have to make every second count.

Not too bad, I think.