- >36,892 days later.
- >You are an old fart.
- >Ever since your retirement, your life has been awful.
- >You’ve always been out-shined.
- >Always the bottom rung.
- >The insignias on your wings only seemed to reflect the target for insult and ridicule you had become, following the Great War.
- >Ever since you first learned how to take off, it had been your dream to become a famous ace.
- >It was the reason you scrambled out of the hangar each morning.
- >But your chance at glory was swiped from under your nose.
- >It defined you as the plane you are today.
- >You are a Spad.
- >You’ve always been known as Frog.
- >The squadrons in the German Imperial Air Force teased you until the name stuck.
- >Mon dieu, how you’ve always hated that name.
- >But it’d been ages since you had gotten aileron-annihilated over anything so trivial.
- >You're not revered by any means, but you'd earned some semblance of respect in Ponyville Airfield.
- >Even if it was because the jets were amazed you could fly, it was better than nothing.
- >Day 36,892 in Equestria.
- >You are Spad.
- >You forget things and tend to ramble about the past and how it used to be different before ponies had these newfangled jet engines.
- >You’re having the early bird special at Ponyville Airfield.
- >Sitting together in the retirement hangar are, your two best friends, Sophie and Heinrich.
- >They’re at each others’ throats over whose wings are better.
- >Again.
- >”—Ich think you Angelos are jealous. Cannot into superior handling of Luftstreitkräfte drie-wing engineering.”
- >”I for one can go into a climb without my bloody wings falling off!”
- >”Ja, hide behind fat engine of yours! Don’t you have somewhere you should spiraling off to?”
- “Mes amis, haven’t you two bickered enough?”
- >”No one asked you, Frog,” they said in unison.
- >Sophie was a pompous cow and Heinrich was a smug, self-absorbed prick.
- >But they were the only ponies you knew and could keep up with.
- >In your antiquity, the three of you only buzzed around ponyville or played bingo with the other Prop-drivers.
- >More often than not, spent your days with your two crotchety friends, griping about something or other.
- >I wish I was back dogfighting over Prance.
- >These new jets are too loud.
- >My skids hurt.
- >I’m empty.
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