Setting the Stage
Midday had come and gone when the skybus pulled over the Everfree Forest, with Ponyville coming into view. The Friday sky carried a handful of cheery, scattered cumulus clouds and not too much humidity. Twenty-eight pegasi rode the vehicle, including the driver. Two dozen and two were engrossed in their doings. David Buckham and Spitfire, though, were at the front. Buckham’s eyes turned towards Twilight’s castle breaking over the horizon, dwarfing everything else in town, including the Town Hall. A slight growl left his lips. Closing a book, Fleetfoot looked out the front windshield, then turned towards the legendary stormballer. She said, “Chill out, bud. No reason to get upset.”
Grimly, Buckham muttered, “It’s...gaudy. An eyesore, even.”
“Something bothering your eye, is there?” replied Fleetfoot.
A fairly young gray stallion with an orange and sky blue mane and golden eyes peered from around a newspaper, face stern. His eyes joined his ears in pointing directly at Buckham. Across the aisle, at about the same time, a younger pastel yellow mare pulled up her sleep mask, revealing spring green eyes that weren’t in the least asleep to go with her sky blue and white mane; her ears, too, were already turned toward the front of the skybus.
Buckham flatly answered, “Actually, yes: this castle. She spends how many months after her coronation content at the library, and instead of rebuilding that after Tirek, what does she get? A garish, incongruous, oversized palace reminiscent of her library in shape only. I heard that was the Tree of Harmony’s doing, but still, no effort to make it look like it belongs in town with every other building? Every other seat of royalty we’ve seen reflected their people, their architecture, as if to say this is the height of Canterlot, or being Prench, or Umanese, or...I don’t know! It doesn’t bloody look like anything else from anywhere else! It doesn’t fit anywhere!”
“So it’s analogous. So what?” asked Soarin’, sitting beside Fleetfoot, as he closed his newspaper.
“Supposedly she’s the ‘Princess of Friendship,’ at least, that’s her official title,” said Buckham. “Nothing like this obnoxious, huge castle that stands out from everything else in the world to say ‘I’m better than all of you! I’ll pretend to be approachable and your equal so that you have an easier time deluding yourself from what everypony already knows, especially me, so that you can waste my time with inane questions any half-wake foal in kindergarten would already know!’ It’s insulting to the public.”
“Maybe she will redecorate to match the rest of Ponyville, but look at it! How long will that take to set the timber frame around that thing, and then wattle and daub? How many bits would that cost? Shouldn’t that money go to a worthier purpose, like, say, keeping the public bridges in good repair?” objected Spitfire. “Besides, it looks fine as it is. I, for one, won’t argue with the Tree of Harmony.”
“I guess you’re right, matching the Tudor architecture would be a waste of tax money. Doesn’t change that it looks more like it belongs in the Crystal Empire than it does in rural Equestria. I still find the whole thing obnoxious,” Buckham said grimly.
“This isn’t just about the game, is it?” asked Fleetfoot, curbing sounding accusatory for the most part.
The bus fell silent for a few moments as their ride began its descent towards the Ponyville train station. Buckham turned toward Fleetfoot, then down the bus aisle. Most of the retirees were still self-occupying as they had the entire ride, though Flurryfeather gave him a sour look. Up front, Spitfire, Soarin’, and Fleetfoot were watching him closely. A few seats back, Rapidfire had folded up his newspaper as well, and Misty Fly’s sleeping mask was nowhere to be seen; both kept their gaze on him. Further back stood Blaze, a young mare who could be Spitfire’s cousin, her own newspaper folded under her left forehoof. Beside her, though still sitting, was a slightly orange off-white stallion with a strong orange mane, Fire Streak, just as unamused. And standing at the end of the bus was a curly-maned gray stallion, Silver Lining, with his headphones pulled down. All eight Wonderbolts on the bus had their eyes and ears trained upon him.
“Maybe, I don’t know,” Buckham said as he looked down. “I haven’t given it much thought. This will undoubtedly be my last time in a jersey on the pitch. I’m not getting any younger. I’m getting too old for the traveling. It’s just hard, letting go of it all.”
“I understand worrying about aging, really I do, I’m right there with you,” sympathized Spitfire, as she went on to ask, "but why carry on about Her Highness’s castle?”
“Equality,” said Buckham sadly, with a growing touch of grimness. “It doesn’t sit well with me, the idea that somepony is inherently better than everypony else and destined all their days to sit above the rest just because of who his or her spouse or parents are, or by some deed that benefited very, very few. Why should anypony lord over the masses for life? The Pferdish chose its leaders among its populace, they served the people for a time and then they select new leaders from its ponies. Looked like a great system to me.”
Chris Reinaldo had gotten up, and put a hoof on Buckham’s shoulder. He spoke softly and gently in his Cavalonian accent. “Da’fid, Eques’tria will not be Pferrrdland, even if their ways look betterrr to you, no? Rrroyalty is the way of the land. I do not believe that will change.”
Buckham looked at his teammate, nodding slowly. “Maybe it should.”
Over the last several days, Rainbow Dash poured her all into practice. Working harder, encouraging everypony, pushing everypony in a gentler way whenever Bicycle Kick’s forceful methods came across as purely punitive. The entire team had been deflated, depressed, and generally down since Muffins departed. In her efforts to raise their morale, Dash found a temporary haven from her own feelings of shame. All her thoughts focused around the game; her entire waking existence dug into stormball. Work, eat, sleep. Work, eat, sleep. Two out of three usually kept the guilt out of her mind. Often in practice she’d hear about what a great job she did, how devoted and faithful she was to her friends and Ponyville, only to be summarily answered by an echo in her mind, ‘Element of Loyalty,’ my aching ass.
Dreamland provided no refuge, but a constant battle of stormball vs. remorse and regret. Thursday night was the worst. The dream placed her on the pitch, in a mock game, where everypony on the pitch became Ms. Hooves, one by one, until she was alone with two dozen of Muffins. On this well-lit, bright white pitch with black sky behind, the grumbling came in her direction:
“Can you believe the nerve of some ponies, saying such heinous things to her friends but still claiming to be loyal?”
“How did we get stuck with such a self-absorbed teammate?”
“Oh my Celestia, she’s selfish.”
“Doesn’t give a crap about anypony else.”
“Why would the Element of Loyalty pick such an unfaithful pony?”
“I’m surprise she hasn’t gone running to Cloudsdale yet.”
And so it went, all from likenesses of Ms. Hooves. The dream wore on and on; not even Princess Luna came to her aid. Every morning she woke up down on herself; Friday morning came with tears. Like the last three mornings, she hoped to see the wall-eyed gray mare show up for practice, that wound had scabbed over, that she would return and play, but bitter taste of bile kept coming up her throat first thing during film. Ms. Hooves, the best hope they had for offense, the only real shot they had at scoring points, did not return. And there was nopony else but Dash to blame.
Just before breaking for lunch, Bicycle Kick gathered his team around him, and announced, “Today there will not be afternoon practice! You are to relax! I have two reasons for this: one, most of you are wound tighter than a drum; that is not the ideal mindset to have when in an actual game! Two, your opponent’s skybus is on the way! While we have film of their games, I do not intend to give them any intel on us! If you are outside, you may encounter some of their team! We will give them no tips, no advice, no hints, no nothing! We will take every advantage we have, because we want a song tomorrow!”
“Yes sir!” answered the team.
So much for keeping my mind at bay today. Has anypony seen her? Nopony has said as much. I hope she didn’t go and...no. Don’t even think that, Dash!
“Just to make sure you all have unwound, I have arranged us all time at the spa after dinner, a massage and sauna,” continued Bicycle Kick, garnering a number of pleased murmurs, particularly from the mares other than Rainbow Dash. “Supper will be served at the same time and we will proceed to the spa immediately afterwards; all the arrangements are already made! This is all so that you have clear minds for tomorrow’s game! If you need more from them to end your worries, get more, but I’m not covering more than a massage and sauna stop! Mane-cuts, hooficures, and everything else are on your own dime if you want them!”
That was unexpected. At least he’s not ordering somepony to touch my hooves; we’d have a problem then.
“One last order of business before we break for lunch. After watching your skills, cohesion, and teamwork improve over this last week, I have our starting line-up!” Bicycle Kick started. The anticipation become palpable as it was Monday as he flipped over a page on his clipboard. “We will begin with a 3-2-2-3 set, and will shift during the game as needed! Goalkeeper, Blossomforth! Sweeper, Twilight Sparkle! Left Fullback, Thundercracker! Right Fullback, Puffy Circus! Left Wingback, Reginald Stormkicker! Right Wingback, Sassaflash! Left Midfielder, Cloudchaser! Right Midfielder, Flitter! Left Wing, Thunderlane! Right Wing, Lily Blossom! And Striker, Rainbow Dash! All subs, be ready at a moment’s notice to switch out when the game is on!”
“Yes sir!” they all responded.
“Forehooves in,” Bicycle Kick commanded. The team obeyed. “We have a song to earn. This is not an impossible task; if it were, I would’ve already walked out long before now. But you can do it! You can win this tomorrow! Believe it in your heart of hearts, and you will make it happen! Ponyville on three!”
“ONE, TWO, THREE, PONYVILLE!!”
As the team dispersed towards the buffet tables, Dash stopped Twilight. The princess asked, “What’s on your mind?”
“Coach said he wanted us to relax. Tuesday, when I came by, Spike offered to talk about the latest Daring Do book. I was wondering if you both would be up for that,” Rainbow said.
“That sounds great! He’ll be delighted! Right after lunch, at my place?” asked Twilight.
“How about Sugarcube Corner? We haven’t been there together in awhile,” replied Dash.
Twilight nodded briefly, and said, “Sure! This’ll be a good time! But right now, let’s eat! We’re already toward the end of the line!”
“Oops. Heh heh. Yeah, let’s.”
Late afternoon approached as Twilight Sparkle, Rainbow Dash, and Spike came out of Sugarcube Corner, all still laughing and smiling. Spike said, “We should do this again more often!”
Twilight chuckled, “Well, Spike, I had no idea you read that much of them! The Last Idol of Ryumachi just came out last week!”
“There’s only so many times I can re-read Power Ponies before they get old, and Hoofball season hasn’t started yet,” Spike said with a giggle.
“This was a good time, except for the spoilers you dropped!” teased Dash jokingly.
“I’ve already apologized twice! Cut me some slack!” complained Spike.
Rainbow just laughed, “It’s okay; I’m just giving you a hard time.”
Twilight said, “Glad you invited him along.”
“Yeah, thanks Rainbow Dash!” Spike added.
The cyan pegasus chuckled, patting the dragon on the back. “Anytime, little guy.”
“Well, I’ve got some paperwork I’ve put off for stormball. I can’t let it sit too much longer,” said Twilight plainly.
Dash nodded. “Ah. I don’t envy you.”
“Oh well, back to budgets, proposals, maintenance, and all the other red tape. Being a princess isn’t everything it’s cracked up to be, but at least I get a break from Reggie,” said Twilight, biting back on some irritation. “Never imagined having a smitten admirer would be so aggravating.”
Rainbow cracked a cheeky grin. She nudged Twilight in the side as she said, “I suppose it’d be a different story, if a certain blue-maned guard for your sister-in-law were here, instead of there?”
Twilight blushed deeply and started looking around at anything else, hastily saying, “Gee, look at the time! I am way behind, and really do need to get that done! See you later!”
Twilight disappeared in a magenta flash. Spike started toward where she was with his claws out, but just dropped them to his sides as he came to a stop. He pouted, “Guess I’ll walk. Had to pay for the extra cupcake somehow....”
Spike trudged his way toward the castle. Dash watched him go for a moment, then looked up. Weather ponies were busily expanding what was their practice field into a proper stadium. A cargo truck brought in slats of glowing wood, that did not fall through the clouds when a workpony haphazardly chucked them from the back of the aerial vehicle. Greasy Mack was already readying his concession stand, laden with saddlebags and leading several others across the glowing boards and up the staircase they made.
That was great, just getting to talk with Twi. Really ought to do that more often. Then we can...huh. Going big, all right. That’s, what, big enough for twenty-five thousand? Maybe more? Really wish Muffins was here for this. We really need her. I really need her...but it’s all your fault, Dashie. In all the times you’ve accidentally said something, or even when you meant to say something bad, you’ve never caused such shock and pain so quickly. How could you be so callous? Muffins hadn’t shown her true self very often for years, and what did you do when she showed you hers? Popped her right where it’d hurt the very most. Oh, Celestia, why?
“Hey Rainbow Dash.”
That mezzo-soprano voice yanked Dash. She turned around to see Spitfire in a white warm-up outfit with red and yellow lettering, smiling at her. Dash nodded weakly as she mumbled, “Hey.”
“Huh. I was expecting confidence, or phony confidence, or maybe even nervousness from you, but depression? What happened?” asked Spitfire.
Shaking her head, Dash lamented, “I screwed up big time.”
“Don’t tell me you were cut from the team!” protested Spitfire, aghast.
“No, not that. I somehow doubt I’d be this upset if that were the case. Not really in the mood to talk about it,” said Rainbow sadly.
The orange mare replied, “Alright, if you say so. Just the same, do you have a minute?”
“Yeah, I think I...wha??” Said Rainbow, trailing off as her eyes focused on Spitfire jacket. On the white windbreaker was an embroidered logo and name, with registered trademark symbol. Dash furrowed her brow as she asked, “You’re sponsored? My alma mater sponsored your team??”
Sarcastically, Spitfire raised a hoof and narrated, “‘Proudly sponsored by the Cloudsdale College of Climate Preparation, the world’s finest school of meteorology and weather control’.”
Dash blinked a few times at this with her mouth slightly parted. Spitfire shook her head annoyed with an eye roll. “That gets unbearably tiresome, let me tell you. But they want us to sound all chipper, and bright, whenever we repeat that, ahem, clever line.”
Frowning, Spitfire looked Dash square in the face. Dash closed her mouth, then just shrugged. She inhaled slightly, paused, and sighed. Rainbow nodded discontentedly as she asked, “Far be it for me to downplay the quality of my education, but why get sponsored by the CCCP, of all places?”
Spitfire looked around. Her eyes stopped on something or somepony a moment. She motioned Dash around the side of the building, who obeyed. Once there, Spitifre took another moment to scan about, then softly said, “There are two reasons: first, the CCCP got their name out there, the world over, looking for prospective students. Second and more to the point, most of the retired stormballers on the team couldn’t afford a trip around the globe.”
“What!?” yelped Rainbow. Spitfire quickly shushed her, motioning downward with her hoof. Dash continued much quieter, “For real? You can’t be serious. McNimbus got over three million bits a year just by himself! How—”
Spitfire interrupted, “Most of them went and lived it up while they still got such large checks, but didn’t plan ahead for when those multi-million bit contracts ran out. They couldn’t keep making the loan payments on those enormous mansions, private locomotives and airships, and so on. Most of them had to sell off those luxuries and begin living modestly, because the economics forced them to. No small number of them are currently looking to land a coaching job or a sponsorship to stay a bit higher on the hog, hoping this tour would get themselves such a contract. But not all of them were so shortsighted. Flurryfeather, Cometeer, and Buckenbauer are still doing pretty well, and so is Buckham, but the others? Not so much. McNimbus, in spite of that payday you mentioned, is nearly broke.”
Dash said, “Speaking of Buckham, I heard something disturbing from Twilight.”
“Yes, I believe Her Highness read my report on the matter,” Spitfire mused. “We’ve noticed, and we’re in position.”
“You are?” asked Rainbow, boggled. Spitfire gestured toward some of the ponies working setting up the stadium. Dash kept looking these ponies over, her face denoting her lack of understanding what the hay Spitfire was on about...then she gasped with wide eyes. They were here, just not in uniform: Wave Chill placed a corner flag, Fast Clip carried several poles to block the stands from the field....
“Oh...I see,” breathed Dash, the moment of comprehension still washing over her voice.
Spitfire stepped forward so that her muzzle was beside Dash’s ear as she hid most of their heads and necks with her wings. Following an imperative grunt from the captain, Rainbow followed suit, finishing the cover. In the near-darkness, Spitfire whispered, “What is the first duty of the Wonderbolts?”
“The safety of the Princesses at all times,” swiftly answered Rainbow in equal quietness.
“Good. Most ponies forgot we’re more than just an aerial stunt team. We are the eyes in the sky that go unseen, and often the first to respond to ponies in distress. But we always keep eyes on the Princesses,” said Spitfire, still softly.
Dash began to say something and was immediately cut off. Spitfire continued at the same volume, “This is privileged information. Reinaldo came to me after he met with Buckham privately Monday night. He said Buckham fumed about Their Majesties effectively having total control over every aspect of our lives, but what really concerned my Cavalonian teammate was what he described as ‘black mist’ seeping from the corners of Buckham’s eyes while he vented. He didn’t like it, and neither do I.”
Rainbow pensively answered, “Huh, ‘black mist,’ you say? The last time I saw anything like that was—”
“King Sombra,” completed Spitifre. “I checked Her Highness’s report about the Crystal Heart, and had other searches looking for other instances. That was the only match.”
“But Sombra was totally disintegrated! I watched it happen with my own two eyes!” said Dash in raspy hushed tones.
“Yes, that was in the report, too, but given the nebulous nature of that ancient evil, it’s hard telling if he was, in fact, completely destroyed,” answered Spitfire.
Dash attempted to respond and was shushed a second time. Spitfire continued in concerned and guarded tones, rather quickly, “We don’t know Buckham’s intentions toward Her Highness, or if this ‘black mist’ has any connection to that or King Sombra or anything else for that matter. Bottom line is we have to watch what he does, especially during this game: he plays Striker, she plays Sweeper, they’re going to come into contact and often.”
Rainbow feigned, “How would you know what position she plays? I don’t—”
“Rainbow Dash,” the orange mare cut in, “did you really think I didn’t have at least a Sub-Lieutenant watching over Princess Twilight at all times? There are active duty Wonderbolts on the Ponyville team, too.”
“Wha...? I had no idea...,” said Dash in disbelief.
Spitfire said, “Which means they’re doing their job well. But keep an eye on Buckham’s actions around her. This report does put his actions a bit outside the realm of the Elevens.”
“The...number is reason for concern?” asked Dash with audible doubt.
“The Elevens are a terrorist cell that we know next to nothing about. They have some belief about one pony race under one Princess, or something to that effect, but they do an exceptional job of staying hidden, both their members and ideas. He may be one of them. We tried a few ways to loosen his tongue, but he always kept himself tight-lipped enough to not warrant immediate action. The game may be a different story. If all the unnecessary roughness falls within the purview of the game and can be reasonably explained by how stormball is played, we’ll have to let it slide. But if even one thing crosses the line towards Princess Twilight, every Wonderbolt present will move to stop him and protect Her Highness,” elaborated Spitfire.
Dash nodded. Spitfire then pointedly said, “Every Wonderbolt. That means you too, Ensign.”
“Ensign?” asked Rainbow Dash, the understanding of the one word and what it entailed coming through her voice in bits and pieces, progressing towards choking up. “Ensign rank is only for...active...oh my Celestia...you’re...are you...?”
“Yes, Ensign. You are being permanently moved from Reservist to Active Duty, with all the rights and responsibilities thereto,” Spitfire said with pride. “Congratulations, we’ll have a proper ceremony when we have time, but for now, your first assignment: you are to keep a clandestine watch over Princess Twilight at all times. Given how tight you two are, this should have little to no interference with your life.”
Dash tried to answer “Yes ma’am!” but a squawk was all that left her throat. She could not contain the happy tears.
I did it...finally, my dream came true!! I’m a Wonderbolt now...ohmigosh, I’m a WONDERBOLT!!!
Chuckling, Spitfire said, “I’ll take that as acceptance. Good. Remember, your assignment is clandestine; nopony else is to know you are a Wonderbolt for now. We’ll talk about your first show after the game. Not a word of any of this outside Wonderbolts or Princess Twilight, Ensign, understand?”
“Yes ma’am...,” sniffled Rainbow Dash, overcome with joy.
Spitfire moved her wings first. She chuckled as she shook her head. Pulling out a kerchief, she mused, “Happy tears every single time. Don’t feel ashamed.”
Rainbow blew her nose and wiped her eyes, still smiling. “Yes, ma’am.”
Spitfire teased, “Oh, pull yourself together, Rainbow Dash! I want you at the top of your game when you’re across from me! You’ll know I’ll perform like I mean it, too.”
Spitfire flew off. Firmly, and mostly to herself, Dash answered, “Yes, ma’am....”
“Oh...my...,” squeaked a demure mare’s voice.
Dash snapped to her right. There stood Fluttershy, Rarity, and Applejack, all three agape, equally stunned, confused, guarded, and slightly embarrassed. AJ asked slowly and carefully, “Is there somethin’ ya wanna share with us, sugarcube?”
“Um...not right now? I will when I can, okay?” answered Dash.
Applejack raised one eyebrow as only she could. “Are ya sure?”
Oh, for the love of...this better not be going the direction it looks like it is....
Rarity protested, “Applejack, so uncouth! She has nothing to be ashamed of! Rainbow, darling, please remember, we’re your friends, and we’ll support whatever decisions you’ve made about how you wish to live your life.”
Goddammit....
Dash shot all three of them an annoyed look as she said, “Are you gals thinking what I think you’re thinking? ‘Cuz if you are, that’s totally not what’s going on.”
Fluttershy meekly offered, “It’s, um, nice, that you and Captain Spitfire have complementary coats....”
Exasperated, Dash fumed, “It’s not true, it’s not true!”
Applejack struggled contain a laugh, Rarity was visibly biting her lips, and Fluttershy hid her mouth with her hooves. Rainbow grunted with a stomp. Glancing around, she noticed Lyra and Bon-Bon had stopped to watch what unfolded here. She looked both of them in the eye, and said, “Not that there’s anything wrong with that!”
Ponyville’s closest pair of best friends both blushed and pointedly did not look at each other for a few moments as Rainbow Dash turned to three of her nearest, dearest friends, and bluntly said, “Look, I gotta get going. I promised I’d help set up tonight’s dinner for the team, and then we’re to meet at the spa.”
“Wait, we couldn’t get a Friday evening appointment because the team booked the place!?” fumed Rarity.
Dash cheekily said, “Hey, talk to coach if you don’t like it. That was his idea. See you.” And she sped off before Rarity could respond.
The sauna room of the spa seated six, but to provide maximum relaxation, coach didn’t allow more than four in there at a time. Bicycle Kick had joined Twilight Sparkle, Spike, and Rainbow Dash as the last group in the steam room. Dash sighed contentedly. “I have to hoof it to you, coach. This really did work out my wing muscles. Haven’t felt this limber in a long time.”
Bicycle Kick grinned. “I expect the best, so I give the best.”
Twilight nodded at Spike, who moved toward the door. She asked, “Sir, you said you wanted us to have as clear a mind as possible tomorrow, right?”
“That’s right, Sparkle,” answered Bicycle Kick.
This looks like a setup....
Dash looked at Spike, then back to Twilight. The little dragon’s face spoke of anticipation, about something he’s been waiting for. Twilight said, “There’s been something on my mind. Something I’ve been wondering. I just have to know.”
A little smile crossed Spike’s face as Bicycle Kick answered, “Go ahead.”
What’s she planning?
Dash looked at Twilight with confusion and expectancy as she started, “Tuesday morning, during film, you erupted at my faithful assistant. He—”
Furiously he interrupted, “That was the third time somepony had to wake him up, and you know that!”
Twilight remained eerily serene, retorting, “Excuse me, I wasn’t finished.”
That sounds rehearsed. ‘Well in-hoof,’ she said?
Spike suppressed a grin along his lips only, but his eyes remained very telling that he was chomping at the bit over something. Bicycle Kick roared, “What’s it matter? I don’t have time for excuse-making, and that’s all you’re doing!”
“Coach, I’m speaking,” was all the princess replied.
Scoffing, the Bicycle Kick retorted dismissively, “You’re wasting perfectly good air, Sparkle! That's all you’re—”
Whoa...!
Bicycle Kick’s tirade was cut short as a magenta shackle fastened around his muzzle in response to Twilight’s horn glowing the same color. She firmly but evenly returned, “I’ll say it only one more time. I’m. Speaking.”
Spike applied the door’s deadbolt as he turned toward the coach, smarting off, “Now you can listen to somepony other than yourself! This may be a novel experience for you!”
“Spike, no,” ordered Twilight. Spike just sat on the bench next to the befuddled Rainbow Dash. Twilight continued, “We will address him politely while he’s in his predicament.”
She turned from the dragon with the childish grin to the old stallion who did not accept his binds. “My apologies that this became necessary, but you’ve made it clear you intend to interrupt me every time I broach the subject. Many like to say ‘turnabout is fair play.’ You wouldn’t let me speak when I had a legitimate problem, now our roles are reversed. You said you were ‘my king’ out on the pitch. Well, this isn’t the pitch; this is the sauna. The normal order is restored here. I am Princess, and you will listen.”
Damn, Twi, just because he took things too far doesn’t mean you should, too.
Bicycle Kick glared at Twilight, and struggled in the shackle. She continued, very even-keeled, “Our first interaction was you establishing dominance in a very primitive way, the sort of screaming, chasing, and kicking primitive ponies did before we learned to speak. That wasn’t necessary. I had already accepted your expertise on the subject, and was willing to follow your lead. Berating me over being crowned Princess of Friendship, or receiving the palace was uncalled-for, especially when I didn’t ask for either to happen. One was Princess Celestia’s decision, the other the Tree of Harmony’s. I really preferred to just be a student of magic. But, that’s not what fate had in store. I would appreciate it if in the future, you could keep those in mind.”
Bicycle Kick struggled in the shackle again, but didn’t look quite as angry. Twilight politely resumed, “I suppose such methods come natural to you, the continual shouting. You coached professional athletics for several decades. Many a time you had inflated egos to make hoof the line. But no one in Ponyville is a professional athlete. There are a few Wonderbolts, some active even though they don’t think I noticed them, and about twelve Reservists, eleven if the inkling I’m getting is correct, from one being bumped to Active Duty.”
I’ll never understand out how she learns so much so fast. How did she figure that out?
“These are not ponies that need to be badgered, or belittled, or ridiculed to maximize the results from them. You’ve given the strong, encouraging talks. Surely you’ve seen how their eyes light up when you praise them? The ends do not justify the means. They never have and they never will,” lectured Twilight. Her horn’s glow faded to nothing. “The means justify the means: how a pony goes about a problem is ultimately more important than the problem itself. I could have chosen to scream and holler and berate you until dawn if I wanted to. That wouldn’t actually help matters, would it?”
Bicycle Kick shook his head, seemingly unaware the shackle was gone.
“Then we come to how things went with Spike,” began Twilight. Bicycle Kick’s eyes widened and his nostrils flared, but she continued as she pulled out the old newspaper, “The disgusted sound you made indicated his little plush Rarity hit a sore spot. After asking, Princess Celestia sent to me this newspaper clipping of the Canterlot Times from thirty-two years ago. ‘Stalker Pleads Insanity; Coach BK Still To Leave Constellation. After a thorough investigation, suspect Big Dreams pled insanity for multiple charges of voyeurism, violating a restraining order, unlawful contact with a minor, and one charge of attempted rape. Last Thursday, following his arrest, police searched the residence of Big Dreams, where they reportedly found what they called “a shrine” to Constellation Head Coach Bicycle Kick’s adolescent daughter, who will not be named due to being a minor. Police reported removing three painted portraits, an altar, fourteen partially-used white candles, and six dolls, including two in “disrespectful poses,” from the basement.’ That had to be traumizing.”
Holy hell. That’s what they were talking about that night. I think I’d wanna kill that stallion if he did that to my filly.
Spike's immature grin had faded, but Bicycle Kick actually laughed. It started as a chuckle, but it began to grow in oomph and volume. Twilight watched him for a moment, then said, “I don’t think it’s funny, and I don’t think you do, either.”
The laughing stopped instantly, a vacant expression overtaking his face. Twilight folded up the clipping. Bicycle Kick stood shaking, with a few tears rolling down his face. He had actually lay down on the floor, crossing his hooves around himself as he quietly sobbed.
What...?? Never thought I’d see this day. What the hell was that? That was scary how fast that happened!
Twilight said, “I can’t imagine that pain, nor do I want to try. It’s the stuff nightmares are made of. It’s something that nopony should ever experience. I can wager pretty safely, that when you saw his little doll, you were taken back to that horrible time, and in some way, screaming at and hitting Spike was as though it were that creep you were hitting and screaming at instead.”
Bicycle Kick looked up at Spike and croaked, “I’m sorry, little guy. I didn’t know I was still carrying that around.”
Spike looked the old coach in the eye and said, “Well, I’d be lying if I said I can forgive you that quickly. It was still uncalled-for. But I won’t hold a grudge.”
Dash blurted, “What was with the laughing? That really freaked me out! Why would somepony smile and laugh when something horrible like that is being read?”
“Dopamine,” answered Twilight. “The mind’s defense against being retraumatized is to flood the system with this chemical that makes happy feelings, until reminded that’s not what they’re really feeling. This reminding ends the dopamine stream, which causes the real, underlying emotion to come out. Then, only then, can healing begin.”
But Muffins didn’t smile or laugh. Was that word so present in her mind, that she could not even raise that defense anymore?
“Dash...,” started Twilight. Spike had gotten up, and hesitantly walked over to the coach.
“Yes?”
Twilight eyed Rainbow Dash with heavy concern. “You’re still worried about Ms. Hooves, aren’t you?”
“That obvious, huh?” groaned Rainbow.
“She never got the dopamine,” explained Twilight as Spike helped Bicycle Kick back to his feet, though the dragon’s face wasn’t entirely amiable. “She was reminded that wasn’t how she felt before the wave even came.”
So that’s what it was. I’ve been running away. I tried to raise that defense, too, or distract myself by burying myself in the game, or whatever was in a handy moment. But....
Within her head, the dam broke. Every droplet she bottled up, ignored, pushed aside, or shunted away, moved as one; there was nothing to hold them back, as all her defenses against them disappeared the moment she realized what she was doing. All pain she caused, all the anger for causing it, all the self-doubt about her Element, all the despondence from ruining what was developing into a wonderful friendship, all the worry if she had actually pushed Muffins over the edge...they all hit in unison.
Tears came from Dash as she exploded, “I can’t stand carrying this around! It was my choice of words that hurt her and drove apart from the last thing she really loved and found solace in! Stormball was her refuge, the last happy memory from a childhood full of tears! And I took it from her! I called her ‘stupid’ on the pitch when I knew that word hurt her more than anything else! I’m supposed to be better than that! I know I’m better than that! I’m supposed to be the Element of Loyalty! I could’ve done better; I should’ve done better! I had a new awesome friend in her, and I totally blew it! The whole team's suffered without her there, because of me! And I don't know if she did something drastic, because nopony’s seen her since Tuesday! And if she did, it's all my fault! I can’t stand that I did this, Twilight! I CAN’T!!”
Dash fell to the floor of the sauna, weeping angrily at herself, occasionally pounding a hoof into the floor. Twilight walked over to her friend, placing a hoof on her withers, and gently said, “Just let it out. Let it all out. You’re not a bad pony, Dash, because of one slip of the tongue. And I think you’d want to know, she hasn't done something ‘drastic;’ she’s shown up right on time to continue her work with me each night.”
Dash looked at Twilight for a moment, then howled, her relief that her biggest fear did not come to pass mixed with the rest. Spike, getting misty-eyed, ran over and hugged the bawling pegasus, which she readily accepted. Twilight wiped a tear from her eye as she continued, “You know what you need to do. But it’s getting late. She would’ve already gone to bed by now. Try to find her in the morning, but don’t tarry. We need you on the team, too. I need you there, Dash.”
Saturday morning came. Rainbow Dash silently thanked Princess Luna for the dreamless sleep. She knew what she needed to do, but also that time was short. It was a quarter after seven, but she needed to be at the pitch by nine for warmups, the skull session practice and final words before taking the pitch for the game at noon. Post wasn’t running today, which eliminated one variety of wild goose chase. Hastily brushing her teeth and leaving an extra helping for Tank, she flew out her front door, in search of Muffins Hooves.
High above, her keen eye scanned the streets of town. But there were a multitude more ponies than usual, most of them filing toward the stadium. Ponyville had maybe six hundred residents. Several thousand were in the streets, with more debarking the train at the station, and airships landing in the parks. She turned to the stadium. Twenty-five thousand could sit there easily. And plenty were already seated.
Where did all these ponies come from? Never seen it this crowded anywhere.
Dipping to just above the crowd, Dash was taken aback. Griffins were here, too. The café was overrun. Farmers’ stalls had been out, but many had closed up, already picked clean of stock. Big Mac managed to defend a delivery to his sisters at the family market cart, making sales left, right, and center, but it was clear they, too, would be out of stock before Mac could get to and from Sweet Apple Acres on a regular day, let alone now. Most poignant of all was that these ponies were from everywhere. Traditional fashions from abroad made a patchwork quilt of the crowd. The discussions were in several languages: Equestrian, Prench, Pferdish, Arabic, Cavalonian, and some she didn’t recognize. While linguistics was by no means her forte, she gleaned one notion very clearly from all the talking: these ponies from aboard were rooting for Ponyville. They wanted Buckham’s team to go down, and hard. Resentments after the different embarrassing losses lingered, which led to a second thing Rainbow discerned from the endless rambling: these ponies thought Ponyville’s team, under Bicycle Kick, actually stood a chance. But one gray mare would be key to giving the people what they want, one gray mare that could easily disappear into the crowd of thousands. Dash couldn’t tell if she was here. Anypony would be hard-pressed to tell if anypony else in particular was in this mash of hooves if they weren’t large, tall, and/or standing on something, or simply having prior knowledge.
Doofus, why didn’t you try her house first?
Rainbow took off full-speed for the eastern part of town. The crowds were thinner, but the airships still landed all the way out here. Some of the ponies just now arriving likely would not get through the lines and up one of the four stairways, even though they could fit three abreast, for quite some time. Landing outside Ms. Hooves house, there were still numerous ponies of numerous different cultures filing past. There was quite the din, enough that Dash really had to pound on the door to know if she could be heard inside. No answer. Dash knocked again, this time looking through windows. The half-empty tin of muffins indicated she’d already left.
Damn. This isn’t working.
Dash checked the sun’s position. She had, at most, forty-five minutes she could look before she needed to head to the locker room, thirty-five if she wanted to play it safe; she wasn’t sure where the locker rooms were on the temporary stadium.
Dash headed for the depot. With all the inbound trains, surely somepony would notice if there was a passenger looking to depart. One ticket booth was open. After fighting through the crowd, Dash managed to reach the window. The attendant looked at Dash, rather surprised. “Are you really chickening out, Rainbow Dash?”
“Hardly! I was wondering if you’ve seen Ms. Hooves today. I’ve been looking for her,” said Dash earnestly.
The ticket master shook his head. “Sorry, kid. Haven’t seen her around here in over a month.”
“Thanks, that does help a bunch,” replied Rainbow as she took off again.
So many...this isn’t helping! Where is she!?
Dash checked the sun’s position again. Ten minutes. She could do little more than a quick scan of the crowd as she circled the stadium, looking for the home team’s locker room; time was up. She had no choice...she would have to play without Muffins by her side.
While there were pro stadiums with more than three times as many seats, this place wasn’t quiet. Not at all. The tension and electricity in the air had grown heavy already. Finding her locker room, Dash entered through the aerial door. The rest of the team was already here, getting dressed. Rarity did their jerseys as expertly as one would expect from her. A white jersey with dark blue numbers and words, and corn yellow accents. The word “Ponville” and their names were in the corn yellow block text, with the dark blue surrounding it. Blossomforth’s and Feathermay’s goalie jerseys were simply the dark blue with the corn yellow for its number, accent stripes, and wording. Dash found her locker, with her jersey on a clothes hanger, waiting. Number 20. Twilight had already donned her jersey, wearing 42. In the middle was another jersey, hung up and untouched. Number 1. M. Hooves.
I’m so sorry, Derpy....
Bicycle Kick walked up to Dash. “Couldn’t find her?”
“No, sir. She may’ve been in the crowd, but there were too many,” sighed Dash, growing upset.
Bicycle Kick prompted her, “Chin up. It’s not over yet. And she may yet show.”
Dash protested, “But rules about late arrivals—”
“Then we deal with it as it comes,” the old stallion cut her off. “Keep an eye out during warmups. When the crowds thin, she may come into view.”
Rainbow nodded slowly. The coach walked to the center of the room. “Bring it in!”
The team came to their coach quickly. The wizened stormballer looked around at his players, and began, “I see on some of your faces, you know what awaits you out there. The giants have come. They stand upon your doorstep. And now you must defend your house. The day is here! Today you sport with giants! Today you show the proven greats that just because you are the best known, it doesn’t mean you’re the best there is! A chance of a lifetime awaits you all; this opportunity will not come again! I have given you the skills I know, taught you as best as I know how! I gave everything I had so that you can reach your pinnacle! And....”
Bicycle Kick paused, looking sad for a moment. Then he said in such an inflection, “I must apologize to you all. A stallion of my age should know better than to say the things I said to each of you over this week, or the way I bossed you all around. I treated the good, hard-working folks of Ponyville as I did the spoiled, bratty, overpaid egomaniacs I coached for decades. It was uncalled-for. It was wrong of me, and I am truly sorry.”
Nopony spoke. They all watched on as Bicycle Kick gave each of them a look in the eye in silence. Then he regained his zeal, “But now is not time for regrets! We have a song to earn! And there are tens of thousands who came from around the globe to see your song today! We’ll show the world we’re the best, the heroes, the champions! And they’re here to watch! Cavalon, Germane, Prance, and many more, even Princess Celestia and Princess Cadance are here! They all came to see you whip Cloudsdale’s sorry hindquarters back whence they came! It’s time we gave the world what they want!”
The team cheered. They felt it again, the fire in the belly, the drive. Bicycle Kick shouted to them, “This is your final warmup! We go to war, and this pitch is the battlefield! Move out!”
With fervor they charged from the locker room out to the pitch. A barrage of cheers met them. Cloudsdale’s team was already on their side, stretching. Ponyville did the same. Dash took a moment to look them over. They wore CCCP’s school colors, bright red jerseys with yellow lettering and numbers; ever true to their sponsor, even though the colors looked heinous against Spitfire's coat, mane and tail. Fleetfoot and somepony Dash couldn’t identify both wore a medium gray instead of the bright red as their goalies’ clear demarcation from the other players. The minutes went by. Simple drills, the fundamentals, the focus sharpening, they all felt it. A wave of boos sounded. Dash looked around to see Cloudsdale’s team heading for their locker room, the last moments before the game got underway. Rainbow paused a moment, and squinted her eyes.
There!! There she is!
In the distance Dash made out the gray body, and yellow mane and tail that could only be Muffins, sitting alone in the park. Dash went over to the coach, “I see her!”
“It’s too late to go now. You better hope she stays put,” replied Bicycle Kick firmly.
“But!”
“I can’t lose both of you. You know the rule if you leave now,” retorted the coach.
Dash sighed sadly, “Yes, sir.”
Bicycle Kick leaned in and whispered, “Wait for halftime.”
“What?”
“If you slip out the back quickly and quietly, you might go unseen. You could get her then, but that’s only twenty-five minutes, and hoping she doesn’t move in the meantime. The late rule will still apply to her, but not you if you stay hidden. You’re the only pony who can do it,” Bicycle Kick said encouragingly.
“Yes sir!” answered Rainbow with zeal.
Bicycle Kick turned to the rest of the team. “Back inside! It’s time!”
The crowd cheered as Ponyville returned to the locker room. Dash only half-listened to the last-second changes in strategies, the encouraging fire of keeping the chip on their shoulders, to do this for everypony in the stands. Dash’s mind was ablaze, between stormball and how to approach Ms. Hooves with so little time with which to work. After checking his watch, they joined hooves, and in unison repeated an age-old prayer for athletes:
“You who watch over us all,
we ask you to come to our game.
We ask your blessing for this gathering of friends and competitors alike,
for sportsmanship to lead all our decisions,
for good play to rule the day,
for a fair outcome to our scrimmage,
and above all, win or lose, for all involved to emerge from our contest safe and sound.”
Ponyville left the locker room, and with it, Ms. Hooves’ pristine jersey still hanging up. They returned to the pitch to the cheers of the crowd. A quick exercise to get the blood pumping, and they took their positions. Hovering just outside the center ring, Dash got her first good look at Buckham. He aged since the last picture she’d seen of him, and grown a beard. His palomino coat was a bit duller now, but those eyes, those azure eyes carried the same fire she felt in her gut. He wore his old number from his professional days: 32. The red jersey with the letters “CCCP” in yellow going down the side, the stallion looked like he’d been waiting for this moment all of his life. Refs around the pitch pointed to check if both sides were ready. As the visitor, Cloudsdale got the ball to begin the first half. Looking past her, Buckham’s eyes set on something he definitely didn’t like. Dash thought she heard a growl, but clearly saw black mist oozing out of the corners of his eyes for a moment. Rainbow caught a wide-eyed, worried look between Spitfire and Soarin’.
He’s looking to hurt her! He means Twilight serious harm...!
The head ref swung his hoof down as he blew the whistle to begin the game.
Chapter five, done! And the stage is set. A number of questions cleared up, some loose strings tied down, and the main event, next! It's about this time an old buddy of mine from back home would feel the need to put on a particular track from one of his favourite games; with him in mind I'll do that here:
Many thanks to my prereader for pointing out where I rushed things, and that most readers are likely unfamiliar with trauma and what it does to people. I'll just say this: I work with troubled, traumized children, and the reactions BK had above were consistent with things I've seen on the job, not just once or twice. I'll not share the stories; they're too horrific to post anywhere (not to mention, a direct violation of HIPAA, the federal confidentiality laws).
Thanks for reading, and see you next time!
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Oh, good. She's got two jobs: protect Twilight and patch things up with Best Pony. The latter will be harder.
Ar first, when I read this;
I thought, "Okay, Mr. Buckham is a secret disciple of Starlight Glimmer".
But then I read these:
And it hit me that that might not be the case, and that Buckham may very well be in the thrall of something much, much worse.
And at least both Coach Kick and Rainbow got a few things out of their systems. Loved that!
I just hope that Rainbow can make it up to Muffins. It'd be good to see them reconcile, and Muffins back on the pitch (if at all possible)!
Anyway, can't wait for the next chapter, so we can find out what happens next! Should be a real barn-burner!
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Glad you guys like. And yeah, this is about to get heavy, in more ways than one.
6344459 Oh, indeed I do!
Really? Ooooo, sounds intriguing!
Starlight's uncle?
Nevermind…