> Progression
>  by Underdogg
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Sacked
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hey..."





"Hey c'mon buddy, you're on in five..."






Your eyelids slowly pull apart, allowing the light from your dressing room lamp to shine relentlessly in your eyes, making you flinch. Immediately, as your eyes adjust, you find yourself staring in the face of a heavy set stallion staring back, except with a rather stern look on his face.


"Get up. You don't have much time. Your act starts in five minutes, and you look like a complete mess!"


You glare back at him dreamily, waiting for him to leave so you can slump back down and fall asleep again. As he marches over to the door and swings it open, you sigh deeply and close your eyes. "You can bet we are going to have a long discussion about this situation of yours, VERY SOON."

He slams the door shut, leaving you to stew in his words. He was probably right about looking like a mess, judging from the crust around your eyes.

You attempt to lift yourself off the hardwood floor to start getting ready, and immediately feel dizzy and nauseous at the first attempt of movement. You begin to feel an effervescent sensation in your stomach, and your forehead starts to sweat. Your chest tightens and you struggle to pull yourself towards the sink. Your left hoof slaps down on the basin, and you barely lift your head over the edge of the sink, before vomiting last night's binge.

"Sarsaparilla and carrot juice" you think to yourself, as the sharp bitter taste shouts back at you. After all is passed, you slap the faucet starting the flow of water into your mouth. You swish for a while, and spit.

"Dear Celestia, I am thirsty..." You take a gulp of water and swallow. The cool flow of liquid tastes gorgeous as you keep taking in gulps. You were badly dehydrated. Not a good way to start a long stunt act.

The door slams open once more making you jump a little bit, catching water in the back of your throat. You quickly spin around and spit out of fright, right into the face of your boss.

"I'll pretend that didn't just happen. You have two minutes to get your flank in gear and get out there! MOVE!"

He once again slams the door, and leaves you staring blankly at where he used to be. You burst out laughing once he is out of hearing distance, and you trot over to the sink to start getting ready


~~


After a while of preparing yourself and quickly doing up your mane, you kick the door of your dressing room open and stagger down the hallway leading to the backstage. You had walked this walk too many times now, the wide hallway made it seem even more intimidating and nerve-racking. You could hear the muffled cheering of the audience outside, which was still being drowned out by your hangover.

As you walk through the curtain and enter the backstage, you see your boss, pen behind his ear, and a clipboard in his hoof. He directs you to the left wing, but as you walk past, he shoves a hoof into your chest, eliciting a small "oof" to escape your lips.

He glares at you in disgust.
"You mind explaining that?" he says above a whisper. He points a hoof at your right foreleg, which proudly carries a patch of dry puke.

*

"And so, I welcome you to Wild Stunts! A show that will blow your mind away! Our first act..." The pony looks backstage and his flow is cut off at the sight of the commotion. Your boss was yelling at you in a whisper, while a stage-hand was wiping dried puke off your outstretched foreleg.

"Fuck! There's no time! Now get on there and do it!" Your boss positions himself behind you.
"Uh... our first act is the amazing... uhh..., incredible, INDIGO FLIGHT!" The crowd of ponies in the stands screams in  an intimidating uproar. You stand there, dumbfounded, and unsure of what to do.

The pony behind you takes initiative and shoves you forward, taking you by surprise. You stumble out onto the stage and trip over each hoof, landing flat on your muzzle. Your ankle twists during the fall, and you yelp in pain. As your head slams into the stage floor, you almost succumb to unconsciousness. 

Luckily for you, this only makes the crowd shout more, and the sound of mocking laughter echoes tauntingly throughout your eardrums and makes your teeth clench. They were used to seeing you collapsed on the floor after hurting yourself, and somehow took immense humour from it. The host trots over and lowers his head.

"Look, kid, just suck it up and get it over with so we can fire you, okay?"
You shoot a look at him and spit a little by his foot with an elegant, "Ptuh" and he shakes his head as if expecting that response. As long as you were working here you've known him to be a flankhole. He wanders off stage right, waving and smiling to the hundreds of ponies all eagerly awaiting something to happen.


A silence befalls the crowd, as they all stare at you lying sprawled out on the stage. Tired, pissed off, and effectively jobless. In an enlightening fit of rage, you grab a microphone laying near you on the ground. You can barely flick the switch with your shaking hands, but once you finally summon up courage, you find yourself standing before a large crowd of silenced, stunned, and confused ponies.
You take a deep breath, and let your outward appearance speak for itself. In the thickness of silence, you hear a sarcastic wolf whistle near the back, and snickers exchange briefly. Eventually you lower your muzzle to the microphone.


"Hello?" you say. Somepony in the back shouts back something inaudible.
"Great. Now that you can hear me, I've got a short story to tell you." You wait for the exchange of confused mumblings to die down. "Once upon a time there was a colt named Indigo. He hated his job and family so he ended up turning to the Mr. Bottle for help. But instead of soothing the stress Indigo had, Mr. Bottle was mean, and made Indigo very sick every single night of his life. And that's why Indigo quit school and joined the circus. So the moral of the story is...." words fail you. "Well... there is no moral. In fact, I have no idea why I'm still standing here talking to you drips."
You turn off the microphone, and turn around, bucking in high into the air, leaving it to shatter onstage as you casually exit stage right.


"Wow, you really made a statement out there didn't you. Maybe this time if you wish REAL hard, people will feel sorry for you and you can have all the attention you so desperately crave." the host of the circus follows you as you make your way to your dressing room to gather your things. You stop in your tracks and turn around. You turn around to give an angry retort, but instead you blow air out of your mouth and continue to your dressing room. You burst through the door, cussing under your breath, when you suddenly realise you have two visitors. The fat stallion from earlier, and a new pegasus, orange and bright yellow, gazing startled at you. There is a silence as both parties evaluate the current situation.
"Hold that thought..." the fat stallion says squinting at you. "I may have just the pony you need." The other pegasus nods and walks over to you.
"May I introduce myse-"
"Go fuck yourself."

You walk straight past the Pegasus and begin shoving your belongings into a paper bag. Old books, pictures, stunt certificates, and other bits of personal items accumulated over the years.

"Hey."
The orange and yellow Pegasus pipes up once more.
You look over your shoulder at the intruder.
"Oh I'm sorry, did I not make myself clear the first time?" you snap back at her.
She huffs and walks over to you. The fat stallion gets up, somehow, and raises a hoof.
"uh. Spitfire, I'll handle this."
He drifts over to you, putting a hoof on your shoulder. He maneuvers you to the corner of the room out of hearing range from Spitfire.
"Listen, you know who this Pegasus is? She's the leader of the Wonderbolts, the most prestigious flyers and stunt performers of all time. She's out scouting for talent, since they need more flyers for a show. Now, I've seen what you can do, Indigo, just take a look at those medals and snapshots you have. I showed them to her and she specifically requested to talk to you. If you can pull off a show with the Wonderbolts, well, you might just turn your life around. Give up the alcohol, Indigo. You don't need it. It's ruining your special talent."


You gaze at him and back to the pegasus, looking right at you.
"Fine, I'll speak to her. But I want this place out of my life for good."
He shakes his head and chuckles.
"That should be an easy wish to fulfill."
You ignore his response and turn your attention to the Pegasus across the room.
"Well, forgive me -Spitty-, I should have properly introduced myself. I'm Santa Claus." you sit down on a nearby stool. "Now c'mere and tell Santa what you want more than anything in the whole wide world..."
She looks at the fat stallion and looks back to you, before letting a sarcastic laugh escape her throat.
"Cut it out. Now." she says, an aura of seriousness surrounding her.
"Ooh, you're the feisty type! I like that..." you mockingly respond.
In a flash she swings a hoof at you and slaps you across the face, making your whole head turn ninety degrees. The fatty in the corner raises his eyebrows and sighs, and you rub your cheek.
"Listen here. If you want to make something of yourself, you're gonna have to work for it. I'm here to help, I can help you be the flyer you once were."
You sit there and gaze at her.
"Has anyone told you that your mane is two-tone, or was it a jovial dye mishap by some of your -crazy- pegasus pals at "flying school".
She sighs and looks at Fatty, shaking her head.
"Co-operate, Indigo" he says almost threateningly.
"So what do you want from me?" you say, looking at the floor.
"I want to bring you back to the Wonderbolt training grounds. We are going to get you back in shape."
> Theory
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"So, do we have a deal?"

Spitfire looks at you with an aura that says she hopes you accept her offer.
You take a deep breath and look around the room. You eye every inch of your dressing room, recalling every memory you have in hopes that this would be the last time you would be standing here. Your eyes fall on your manager sitting in the corner.

"Go on, kid. You don't need us."

You look back to Spitfire, biting your lip. His words strike hard and true.

"So... Where do I stay?"

Spitfire sighs in relief at your acceptance. You could tell there was something about her that couldn't bear to see a potential Wonderbolt's talent go to waste.

You watch her eyes dart side to side running through possible living arrangements. 

"Well, I do have some space in my house.... Eh... Maybe you can stay there till you get your act together, rent-free."

If you had known this mare better, you could have hugged her and cried. Finally, after 5 brutal years you would be sleeping in a warm house, with a comfortable bed, and not a hard, dressing room floor. 

Tears start to obscure your vision, but you quickly wipe them away, in tandem with keeping your composure. The two visitors watch as you make your way to the door.

"Well, are you just gonna stand there? Or are we gonna go fly?" you say over your shoulder. Spitfire smiles and you give an excited grin back.

As you both trot down the corridor to the front door, you notice the burning sensation in your cheek again.

"Spitty?"

"Yeah, Indy?"

"That really hurt y'know..."


~~~


"Look, I ordered the orange scented candles and you gave me the lavender, I would like to return them and -"

Soarin' was sitting at his desk on a cold night, rebuking a poor candle salesman on the phone, when his best friend and and unknown visitor came storming in, wet from the heavy rain further south.

"uh.. So yeah, I'll be there tomorrow and I'll bring booze, don't worry. Save some tail for me would'ya?" and Soarin' slammed the phone down. He swivelled around in his desk chair and gazed at the two intruders, blushing heavily.

"Soarin', I'd like you to meet our newest rookie, Indigo Flight."
You say nothing and lean forward to shake hooves with him. Soarin's blush fades quickly, and he clears his throat.

"So, Spitfire, how good is this protege of yours? He eyes you up and down, as if estimating your talent from your appearance. You half expected him to gag, judging from the look he gave you.

"He's a circus performer from a small traveling circus. I've seen him fly before at one of their shows, and so I contacted the manager. We left a couple hours ago, but we weren't flying very fast."

Soarin' turned his nose up slightly.
"Well, what they say in flying school about form and not speed isn't true here. You have to be fast, fast and agile. If you lack these traits, then there's no way you can perform with us."

You nod slowly, trying to give off a calm and sensible first impression to this pegasus. He looked seemingly chuffed with his small speech, but the way he said it seemed overly revised. He probably said that to every rookie.

Spitfire chuckled under her breath. "Ok, Soarin', I'm gonna hit the hay. If you want you can run over some theory with him."

You and Soarin' watch her leave the room quietly. You hear him cough behind you, making you jump back around to face him.

"Take a seat." he says.
You slump down on a leather chair that sat a fair few inches below eye level.

"So, uh.. What was your name again?"
"Indigo."
"Indigo...."
"Flight."
"Okay, well firstly let's do some scenario practice. I'll give you an question on a maneuver and you answer as best you can, alright?"
"Alright."

Soarin' grabs a piece of paper from a drawer and clears his throat again.

"Number one."
You shift uncomfortably.

"Say you were performing a figure 8 thunder twist with a partner with a north-westerly wind velocity of 8 meters per second, and you approach too low of an altitude. What maneuver should you perform to put you both back in parallel flight, and what is the signal for such a maneuver?"

You stare at him for a while. Soarin' stares directly back, waiting impatiently for an answer. His expression begins to sink as you stare.

"uh... Ok, number -"
"It's impossible."

There is a short pause.

"What?"
"You're trying to catch me out aren't you? The only response to resume parallel flight would be to perform a cross-cut frontside roll, but with such wind speed and not taking into account fatigue, you could kill yourself and your partner. When can I leave?"

Soarin' chuckles lightly.

"That is correct..."

"I did my homework. You got any whiskey in that drawer over there?"


~~

You were walking back to Spitfire's house with Soarin' casually chatting about flight school splitting a bottle of Jack Coltiels. Over the past half-hour you two had completely hit it off. Both of you had been cackling about your pasts, and he had even let you in on some Bolt gossip, which provided excellent dirt on Spitfire.

Eventually you came to Spitfire's house and you bid each other farewells for the night.

"Alright, see you tomorrow!" you say. He holds up a hoof and wanders away, content with the new rookie. You step into her house and close the door.

"Hello?" you say

"Oh, hey Indigo." you see Spitfire lying on her bed in the next room, lying on her side and flipping through a magazine.

Without her hair done up and her signature Wonderbolt makeup on, she looked absolutely divine. You could definitely get used to living with her.

"Hey... I thought you would be asleep?"
"Nah, I couldn't. I guess I should show you to your room, right?" she says half smiling through a tired yawn.
"Sure." was all you could say. She lifts herself off the bed and walks past you through the doorway.

She turns around quickly to see if you were folloewing and catches you staring at her tail, swaying back and forth as she walked.

"My eyes are up here, doofus." she says giggling.

You shake your head and blush a deep crimson hue, as she continues walking in the direction of your room.

Eventually after walking down a few corridors you come to your room, which was bigger than you expected. In the centre of the room lay a huge bed, bigger than any you had ever slept in.

"This is the guest room. You can stay here for a while until we-"

*FLOP*

Spitfire chuckles again as she watches you fall asleep face down on the huge bed. She turns around and leaves you to your blissful slumber.
She turn around and looks at you, hearing your breathing become softer as you enter dreamland.

"Night."

> Forward
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hey guys, new update! It's been really tough to get my head back in the writing game, and I feel this chapter is mostly a filler for a chapter upcoming that is gonna be really a LOT better. I understand if you think this part is boring and I know it's been a long time since I updated, but I felt this was necessary to advance to story to bigger and better places. The chapter after this is filled to the brim with ideas, so stay tuned.

You awake slowly to the sound and smell of bacon.

Your eyelids slowly lift, letting in the harsh but warming sunlight that bled through the curtains beside your bed.

"Sweet mother of... something smells fantastic..." You drearily moan to yourself. You absent-mindedly scratch your crotch as you kick the covers off, sitting up with your eyes still half closed and your mane frazzled in all directions.

"What time is it..." You mumble to yourself, looking around Spitfire's guest room for a clock. When your eyes catch one your heart sinks.

"Six thirty?! Damn. Haven't woken up this early in a long-ass time."

You get on your hooves and wince as last night's little boozer with Soarin settles painfully into your skull with a throbbing ache. Stumbling out of your room and down the stairs, you begin to hear a sizzling sound. Your mouth is dry as a bone, but soon becomes wet again when you put two and two together with the smell. Bacon.

"Mornin'" Spitfire shoots to you as you enter her kitchen.

"Yeah, hey. Got any juice?" You swing open the fridge.

Spitfire rolls her eyes. "Sure, help yourself I guess." She glances over to you eagerly digging through the contents of her refrigerator.

Your investigation proves a success as you triumphantly hold up a half-full carton of apple-juice and unscrew the cap, throwing it over your shoulder.

As you take a swig straight from the carton, an orange blur of a hoof whisks it away from you.

"WHAT ARE YOU- GET A GLASS FOR CELESTIA'S SAKE!" She throws it down on the table in the middle of the kitchen. 

"Here..." she hands you a floral plastic cup.

You smile as you inspect her 'glassware'. "I haven't got germs, you little princess", you tease. She shoots you a look before scooping bacon off the frying pan into a plate.

"Hmph. While you're living under my roof, you'll respect my belongings and my rules. Now eat up, you've got a long day ahead of you."

You sit down across from the yellow pegasus, and you admire the food in front of you.

"It's been a while since I ate anything home-cooked." You think out-loud.
"Mmhm..." Spitfire was absorbed in the newspaper.

It was glorious. The eggs, the bacon, the everything. You devour your meal in a heartbeat.

"Hey that was great! So, uh, I'm gonna-"
"Meet me at the airfield in half an hour." Spitfire mumbles, still fixing her gaze on the papers. You wonder if the pony was even reading, and rather just trying to avoid conversation with you.

You ascend the staircase heading into her guest room, stopping in your tracks as you realise you had nothing to pack with you.



* * *


You touch down in the airfield. The warm fresh smell strokes your nostrils lovingly as you inhale the Equestrian air. The gentle gusts of wind ruffle your unwashed mane, and makes the grass dance around your hooves. As you look up, you see a few pegasi practicing high altitude flight, way out of earshot.

"HEY! NOOBIE!"

You dart your head around, furiously tracking down the familiar voice. Soarin hovers above you, before touching down on the soft grass of the airfield in front of you.

"Hey Soarin." you smile, as memories of the night before come rushing back at the sight of him. You are reminded of your lingering headache.

"You ready to start hittin' the training? Spitfire has some rugged exercises lined up for you. Think you can handle it?"
You gaze down at the grass. "Yeah. Hopefully."

"Uh oh. Speak of the devil."

You gaze upwards as Spitfire hovers down next to the two of you. "Morning, ladies." She grins.
"Morning." Soarin' utters.

"So. Indigo." You look up at her.
"Let's get you introduced to to the rest of the team. Then, we'll start off with some basic exercises, and get warmed up. After that we can start gauging your abilities."

You nod at her, before absent mindedly gazing upward. The faint specks you saw earlier were now huge grinning faces rushing towards you.

"WOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOO!!!" An enormous gust of wind nearly knocks you off your hooves as a bright orange pegasus bolts past you, leaving you disorientated.

"Hey there new guy!"

You dart your head around.

"Yoohoo! Up here!" Your eyes catch a reclining pony atop a small cloud, not too far above you. It was definitely a female voice you heard, and she had a radiant orange mane that flowed carelessly in the breeze. "I'm Blaze!"

"Blaze, come down and meet our latest recruit!" Soarin' yells up at her. She harrumphs and rolls over on her front. 
All you can do is watch slack-jawed as the pony backfilps down in front of you with astonishing poise. She lifts her flight goggles and 

You hold out a hoof. "Indigo Flight." Blaze shakes your hoof and scans you up and down.
"Typical Spit." she tuts. "Always nabbing the good-looking ones." She shows a toothy smile. "Let's just hope you can fly well, hmm?"

You laugh awkwardly. "Well I'm about to start training now. Right, Spitfire?"

"Yes, actually. Blaze, I might need your help later, but for now I think I can take it from here." Spitfire nods to dismiss Blaze. She turns to the blue pegasus beside her. "You too, Soarin'. Go tell Lightning Streak and Silverbolt that there's a new recruit I'd like them to meet."

Soarin' shifts uncomfortably, realising his company is no longer needed. "Sure thing, I guess. See ya later, noobie."
You watch as both Wonderbolts swings into full gallop, unfurling their wings and majestically soaring upward, to meet the other two co-performers.

"Alright listen." Spitfire taps you on the shoulder, as you watch them fade into the clouds. "I know you're a good flier. I've seen you perform at that old flea-market circus and I know what you can do. That being said, you've got a long way to go before you can even hope to perform with us."

You look at the ground as her words roll around in your head. "Are we gonna start soon then?"