> You are Lieutenant Ano N. Ymous, Wingman of Captain Spitfire
 
> Three years ago, you came here in your "big scary loud fast thing" as the locals called it.
 
> Otherwise known as a plane
 
> After explaining what it was, and what you did, you found yourself in tryouts for the Wonderbolts.
 
> Turns out these horses were pretty accepting of your dastardly lie.
 
> Which involved hours of explaining every detail of your plane, species, you, Earth and every small thing in-between.
 
> Fuckin' purple horse is crazy for details.
 
> In reality, you really just inherited it from Papa Ymous, famous stunt pilot.
 
> You were just a rookie pilot in the 'Murican Navy.
 
> The Captain's voice brings you back from your musings.
 
> " Lieutenant, could you come into my office for a moment? "
 
> You groan, just wanting to lay down and take a break from pulling G's for four hours straight.
 
> You grab a drink from the cooler before walking into her office and take a seat.
 
"Yeah, I know. I broke formation during that loop. I wasn't sure if Fleetfoot was gonna hit my wing or not."
 
> She frowns at you, and puts her head in her hooves.
 
> " No, Ano, that's not what this is about. " Raising her head up to look at you, she continues on.
 
> "Though you're still not off the hook about that."
 
> Fuck. There goes your weekend.
 
> " I wanted to talk to you about something more important. "
 
> Oh shit
 
> Last time she said that was when you both discussed kicking Soarin off the team.
 
> You nervously take a sip of your drink.
 
> Almost tastes like Mountain Dew.
 
> But less dank.
 
> Hill Frost, they call it.
 
> " I wanted to ask if you were free for lunch. "
 
> You swallow it, and lean back in thought.
 
> In all honesty, you never left your house other than for food, practice, or a show.
 
> It was a fairly long walk to Ponyville from the edge of the forest, even for someone who was faster than the average pone.
 
> Might be good for you.
 
" Yeah, I think I can fit that in my schedule. "
 
> You say jokingly, she gave you the rest of the day off.
 
> Which is a nice thing to hear when you wake up at 5:30 in the morning, and go to bed at damn near midnight
 
> " Yeah, yeah. 12:30 good for you? " You nod. " Good. Dismissed. "
 
> You struggle for a few seconds trying to get out of the small-ass chair, Spitfire stifling a chuckle, but manage to get up anyway.
 
> Papa wouldn't deal with this.
 
> He'd smash that shit from under him and use the pieces as a stilt to get up.
 
> Ain't no chairs fucked with Papa back home.
 
> You look at the clock on your way out.
 
> 10:20
 
> Still got some time to get out of your flight suit.
 
 
> After slipping into something more casual, ( which involved a grey shirt and jeans ) you roamed around town, signed some pictures, and chatted to an overly excited blue pegasus for a while.
 
> Eventually it was time for lunch, and you headed to Pony Joe's Donut Shop.
 
> When you got there, Spitfire was already inside and waiting.
 
> You check the clock on your way in. 12:27.
 
> Spitfire seems to have noticed you, and is currently waving you over with a smile on her muzzle.
 
> Taking a seat at the table, you two do a hoofbump, and grab your menus.
 
> " You know, I can't remember the last time I went out for lunch. Or anywhere other than work, really. "
 
> Huh. Who knew Spits would be one to share your shut-in nature.
 
" Yeah, it's a nice place. Cheap, tasty, and entirely unhealthy. "
 
> Even though the occasional repairs on your aircraft kept you from getting too lazy, you still got a decent workout during training.
 
> The waiter comes by to take your order, strange, considering the only life you saw when you walked in was customers and Joe himself.
 
> Must be expanding
 
> " And what can I get for the stunt fliers today? " The waiter asks.
 
> " Just two jelly donuts for me. "
 
" Jelly and two glazed, please. "
 
> He quickly writes your orders down on a small notepad, and is off to Joe.
 
> After he's gone, Spitfire looks over to you and asks " You never told me what you did back on Earth. "
 
> Oh boy.
 
 
> " So, you ever see combat? "
 
> Spits and you have been talking for almost half an hour now. You've gone over what an aircraft carrier, jet, and a Navy is.
 
" A few times. Though it was mostly just air strikes. "
 
> She was pretty interested in the whole supersonic thing.
 
> You, meanwhile were have a pretty good time, finally talking to someone as a friend, rather than a wingman or an idol.
 
> " Any relatives serve?"
 
> A sad look overtakes your smile.
 
" Uh... yeah. My brother is... was in the Army. He... died a few months before I came here. "
 
> Your donuts are long gone, and the bill paid, but Spitfire asked you to stay a while longer.
 
" Heh... It's funny, he told me one time if he came back and I wasn't there... "
 
> You put your hands on the table.
 
" ... he'd look in every bar in America for me. "
 
> Of course, this was just after Papa Ymous died. You were depressed as all hell, and though he tried to hide it, you could tell that your brother was too.
 
" Some of his Army buddies came to my place. Told me that he died in a old house that smelled like shit. J-jumped on a grenade and saved four other guys. "
 
> You close your eyes to try and keep it together.
 
> " Ano? I... I think it's time to head home. Get some rest, I know you haven't been sleeping much. "
 
> She spoke gently, almost motherly.
 
" Y-yeah. I gotta... uh, grab ol' Liberty and do some maintenance anyway. Rudder was uh, a bit slow and the left flap didn't deploy right. "
 
> You named the plane Liberty Prime after a robot in some old game.
 
> There was more problems than just the rudder and flap, but you just wanted to get home, sleep and forget about Earth.
 
> You missed your brother almost as much as dad, he inspired you to join the Navy in the first place.
 
> Dad wanted you to become a racer like him, but he always said to do what you thought was right.
 
> " Alright. Hey, I had fun today, wanna do it again sometime? "
 
> You smiled, feeling a little better now that you had something other than sitting around all day.
 
" Yeah. Let's just... not mention my family next time alright? "
 
> She smiled back and nodded.
 
> And with that, you headed back home.
 
> Your home wasn't all that big, but wasn't small either. It bordered in the middle of the line, cozy, warm, and was perfect for what you needed.
 
> It was made of wood, cut down from the nearby Everfree, with five rooms inside. A bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, guest bedroom, and a living room, in which you spent most of your free time.
 
> Well decorated, but simple. Just as you like it.
 
> You now sit on the edge of your bed. It is almost 9 o'clock, and your shirt, and jeans are thrown on the ground.
 
> After you flew home from the training grounds, you did some work on your plane. You had fixed the flap, turns out the cable was a bit damaged.
 
> Shit's always breaking on that thing.
 
> You and Spits had made plans to go out to lunch two days from now, on Saturday.
 
> A question still lingers in your mind.
 
" Why'd she want to go out today? " you ask the wall in front of you.
 
> It'd been just a week since you got the promotion to Lieutenant.
 
> She probably just wanted to know you better.
 
> To trust you.
 
> The Wonderbolts were, contrary to popular belief, a military unit.
 
> She wants to bond with her wingman, just like you had to bond with your weapons officer in the Navy.
 
> Though you never could really trust him. He was usually goofing off or sucking up to the commander.
 
> Fuckin' Jackson, he only got the position because his dad was a higher up.
 
> That dickhead never worked for anything.
 
> Anyway, what were you doing?
 
> Oh, yeah. Going to sleep. Right. Back to that.
 
> You hit the pillow with a " fwump " and pull the blanket over you.
 
> Back to dreams of hanging out with your brother.
 
> Within minutes of lying down, you are out.
 
> Like, ten rounds of Mike Tyson out.
 
 
> You are Lieutenant Ano N. Ymous, member of the famous Wonderbolts.
 
> Wingman of Captain Spitfire.
 
> It's been a month since you first went to lunch with Spits.
 
> Now, it was pretty much daily routine for you two.
 
> Normally, you'd talk about practice, or your time in the Navy.
 
> Today, though, was different.
 
> " They just attacked? No declaration of war or anything? "
 
> She brought up the subject of wars, and you mention old Dubya dubya tuh
 
" Pretty much. Most Americans were against joining in the war, but it all changed when they attacked, anyway, whens the next show? Liberty's been in the hanger for too long now. "
 
> Your grandfather, Inco G. Neeto fought in the war. When you were young, he told you stories about life in the Navy.
 
> " Oh, uh... next week we're flying out to Manehatten for a show, so make sure you do your tests and all that. "
 
> Manehatten. There's a city you hated.
 
> It always had rogue clouds that fucked with the show somehow.
 
> " I know you hate it, but the weather team's gonna be working extra to make sure the sky is clear. FOr real, this time. "
 
> You still remember the first time you went there.
 
> It was only your third show, and a stray cloud went right into your flight path.
 
> That was the day you found out that clouds here didn't agree with your aircraft's engine.
 
" I hope so, or else they'll be paying to build me a new engine again. Do you know how hard it was to get a pony to build something that doesn't even exist here? "
 
> Manehatten had cost you nearly a thousand bits. A fortune for a rookie in the Wonderbolts.
 
> Luckily, Spits helped pay for some of it, and the city payed for some more.
 
> " Yeah, I know. Took almost two months, even with you helping them. "
 
> Damn good thing Papano knew taught you some things about engines.
 
> " Oh my gosh, that's them! Mom, get the camera! "
 
> Ah fuck, more rabid fans.
 
> You and Spits nod at eachother and are on your way.
 
> " I'll put it on your next bill, Ano! "  
 
> Joe was always nice like that. He'd cover for you if there were fans mobbing you.
 
> Looking over to the mare who caught you, it's safe to say you could slip out before she got back.
 
> After exiting the building, Spitfire flies to you and lands, walking with you.
 
> " Ugh, ponyville, right? "
 
> You simply nod and smile.
 
" See why I don't get out much? "
 
> She huffs and turns her head to you.
 
> " Yeah, same here. I'll catch you next week alright? "
 
> You two hoofbump and go your separate ways.
 
 
> ANO YE BE!
 
> You are, at present, sleeping in the hospital.
 
> Why? Manehatten's weather team still fucking sucks.
 
> You and the rest of the Wonderbolts were doing a scheduled air-show when another stray cloud found your flightpath.
 
> The plane's engine burst in to flames when the cloud hit it, and you bailed out.
 
> The rest of the plane was completely destroyed.
 
> Because of your altitude when you bailed, the parachute didn't fully deploy.
 
> Broke your back, both legs, pelvis, and some ribs.
 
> Not to metion a pretty decent concussion, too.
 
> So here you are, sleeping in a hospital room.
 
> You wake up.
 
> There's a Spitfire in your face.
 
> " H-hey. How you feelin'? "
 
> Motherfucker, how does it look?
 
> You don't reply, electing to glare daggers at her.
 
> " That bad, huh? "
 
> * Knock Knock *
 
> Ah for fuck sake, you just want to sleep.
 
> The doctor comes in the room, holding a clipboard with some papers on it.
 
> " Ah, good. You're awake. I have to say, I'm impressed you got out as intact as you are. "
 
> Intact? Did he even look at you?
 
> Not to mention your only reminder of dad was currently a burning pile of metal.
 
> That's the part that's really killing you.
 
" Well, can't say the same about my ego. " You chuckle.
 
> Yeah, he's not amused.
 
> " I'm serious, Mr. Ymous. Now, I'm afraid to say that if you take another fall like that, it could be fatal. "
 
> Well, that turned sour quick.
 
> " But, onto the good news. You should be out by the end of the month. "
 
> Fuckin' magic, how does that work?
 
" Thanks for the news, doc. "
 
> And as quickly as he came, he's gone.
 
> You look back over to Spits, who is now sitting in a chair in the corner.
 
> She's shifting around a lot and is avoiding eye contact, clearly uncomfortable.
 
" You alright? "
 
> Uh oh. You see tears.
 
> " I... I just... "
 
> Brace for impact!
 
" Ah, fuck! "
 
> She collides in to your chest, and instantly you cry out in pain from your ribs.
 
> That really hurt.
 
> You would have punched her in the snout if you weren't in so much pain right now.
 
> But the fact that she is now hugging you tightly and sobbing into your chest makes you just want to comfort her.
 
> Even with all the pain.
 
> " I-I thought... y-you were g-gone... " she chokes out in-between sobs.
 
> Fuck, that's incredibly cute.
 
> Now your heart is gonna explode.
 
> You just wrap your arms around her and hold her tight.
 
> 'S gonna be a long day.
 
 
> Wait fuck where are you
 
> Oh, right. Hospital.
 
> Spitfire has gone from crying in your chest to sleeping soundly.
 
> Apparently you woke up first.
 
> Also went to sleep at some point it seems.
 
> It's incredibly comfy in the bed because of her.
 
> She's just so warm and snuggly
 
> And adorable
 
> So adorable
 
> D'awwwww
 
> You clutch your chest at how cute she is when asleep.
 
> Fuck, she must have felt it, because now she's waking up.
 
> " Mmm... Ano... " She groans
 
> D'AWWWW SHE'S STRETCHING NOW
 
> STOP
 
> SIR, THE HEART CANNOT TAKE IT!
 
> CLOSE THE EYES!
 
> That's better.
 
> Now you can think.
 
> One, you are about to be in a grave from heart attack if you open your eyes
 
> It's an alright way to go, dying of cute-overload.
 
> Or so you've heard
 
> Pretty sure nobody has hands on experience with that subject.
 
> Two, you're pretty sure you're jobless now
 
> And although being a Lieutenant paid pretty well, the plane took most of the paychecks
 
> Shit was always either broken or about to break.
 
> Though you were working on blueprints for a new aircraft, they were still in the idea stage
 
> You have no idea where to even begin on that stuff.
 
> Three, Spitfire is now nudging your face trying to open your eyes
 
> Here goes nothing
 
> D'AWWwait a minute
 
> That's no Spitfire
 
> It's a nurse!
 
> Fuck nurses.
 
> Seriously. Fuck 'em.
 
> You've hated them ever since you met the nurse guy on the carrier.
 
> He was worse than Jackson.
 
> Okay, maybe not AS bad.
 
> Fuck Jackson.
 
> Fuck nurse guy toOH THERES A NEEDLE IN YOUR ARM
 
> WATAFAK
 
> PAIN PAIN PAI-Oh that's quite nice actually.
 
> Where'd the pain go?
 
> How does magic work?
 
> Fuck it, it just does.
 
> Like magnets.
 
> And boats.
 
> You never got boats.
 
> Like, how does a hundred-thousand ton hunk of metal float.
 
> Whoa, okay, focus.
 
> These drugs are messing with you.
 
> Oh thats a lovely shade of yellow in Spit's mane
 
> Pretty face.
 
> Nice ass, too.
 
> FUCK.
 
> FOCUS.
 
> FOCUS.
 
> Why is everything going dark
 
> Who turned out the lights?
 
> Oh, wait, no.
 
> You got it now.
 
> That was a sleepy drug.
 
> Right, back to that then.
 
 
> Fucking sleepy drugs.
 
> Fucking hospital.
 
> Right now, you're LT. Ano N Ymous. Wonderbolt.
 
> Or, presummably, former Lieutenant.
 
> Cause, y'know, your source of flight is gone.
 
> But none of that matters right now.
 
> Because you're pissed.
 
> These doctors could at least warn you before taking you into surgery.
 
> But nooo.
 
> They just put you under and whizz you in.
 
> You're not even sure what they did.
 
> Still pissed, though.
 
> " Ah, you are avake, goot. "
 
> What the fuck?
 
> Is that a German?
 
> You hate Germans.
 
> Ever since that whole migrant thing a few weeks after you joined the Navy.
 
> They went to NATO and practically begged them to invade their country and fix their shit for them.
 
> Assholes.
 
> You'll play nice for now.
 
> " Aaanywho, you shoult be vine by ze end of ze veek. "
 
> wat
 
> They said it'd be at least a month last time you saw a doctor.
 
> And that was yesterday.
 
> Maybe.
 
> Who knows how long you were under.
 
> The hell did they do to you?
 
> " But, I recommend taking eet ezey for now, Oberleutnant. "
 
> Did he just...
 
> He did.
 
> He just said your rank in German.
 
> Well, time to test if your voice still works.
 
> Even though your throat is dryer than Saddle Arabia.
 
" Jawohl. "
 
> Still got it.
 
> German ain't bad either.
 
> Probably. It's been six years since you spoke it last.
 
> Oh well. It was never your forte anyways.
 
> " Ah, it seems you have a visiter, Herr. "
 
> This horse.
 
> The doctor steps out and in comes your favorite yellow pony.
 
> This doctor is okay.
 
> Spitfire.
 
> She looks a lot better than yesterday.
 
> Or whenever.
 
" Hey, Spits. "
 
> She smiles at you and jumps on the bed.
 
> " Hey yourself, crash master. "
 
> D'aww, she's hugging you again.
 
> This pony is going to kill you with cute-ness.
 
> " How you feelin'? "
 
" Better, now that you're here. "
 
> You pull her tight to you, letting out a happy squeak.
 
> D'aww.
 
> You just can't help but smile and stroke her mane.
 
> It just makes you happy
 
> And her, it seems, as she has now crawled on to your chest.
 
> Eyes closing, wings splayed out.
 
> Looks comfy.
 
> You look out the window towards the town.
 
> You're pretty sure you can see Princess Twilight's castle from here.
 
> Even though it was built two years ago, you still marvel at it whenever you see it.
 
> Seriously, that thing was nice.
 
> Even though you've only been in it once.
 
> Anyway, back to more important things.
 
> Spitfire, looking back at her, is still laying on your chest.
 
> Getting an ear rub.
 
" Hey, seeings how I don't exactly have a way to fly, what happens now? "
 
> Looking up at you, and struggling not to fall asleep, she begins
 
> " Well, usually we'd kick you out. "
 
> Fuck.
 
> " But, I saw those drawings at your place. I put you on half-pay leave until you can get back in the air. "
 
> Oh.
 
> That'll do nicely.
 
> Time to plan your next moves.
 
> Yeah, that'll work.
 
> You're a fuckin' genius.
 
> Well, you would be if you hadn't gone back to Manehatten.
 
> Ah well.
 
> You've been sitting in bed for... an hour now?
 
> Maybe?
 
> You don't know.
 
> They don't even have a clock in here.
 
> Spitfire's taking a nap on you again.
 
> D'aww.
 
> This mare is going to give you a heart attack.
 
> Then again, it is a hospital...
 
> Though, staying more than the two days you have left isn't a high priority.
 
> Gotta get back to work, yo.
 
> Got shit to do.
 
> Ponies to... avoid.
 
> That's the easy part, avoiding.
 
> They seem to be terrified of the Everfree.
 
> You found it nice.
 
> It was a " Chaotic " place, they said.
 
> Really, for you, it was normal.
 
> The clouds were formed naturally.
 
> Magic had almost no effect.
 
> But your favorite part?
 
> You could fly through the clouds.
 
> Fuckers weren't made of cloud-steel or whatever the normal ones were.
 
> These one were of water droplets.
 
> One of the very few things that were normal here.
 
> But, that's for another day.
 
> At your request, the nurse dropped off some paper and a pencil.
 
> About half of the paper had already been used up designing various engines.
 
> You left it at that, having the actual aircraft plans at the house.
 
> Even had a half-built one.
 
> It was a whole ton better than the old racer you came here with
 
> You hoped, at least.
 
> With this one, the parts didn't have to be replaced every day.
 
> These were all new, nice parts.
 
> Having done the day's work, you're now bored to hell.
 
> Though you still had a pony to pet.
 
> And if any skill was as honed as your flying, it would be petting.
 
> Wonder if there's a medal for that.
 
> " Pony Petter 2019 "
 
> Heh. That'd be dumb.
 
> Ah, dammit, now someone's knocking on the door.
 
> Better not be the nurse again.
 
> Or Jackson.
 
> Fuck Jackson.
 
> The door slowly creaks open, revealing...
 
> Oh.
 
> It's Fleetfoot.
 
> You really weren't expecting another Wonderbolt to stop by.
 
> Always busy training.
 
> Or practicing.
 
> " Hey, pal. You're lookin' fine. "
 
> Yeah, no sarcasm there.
 
" Fine and dandy. Why, just an hour ago I ran a marathon. "
 
> Spitfire lazily rolls over off your chest.
 
> " Yeah, cause you could totally run for more than a mile. "
 
> Oh that's low.
 
> Two can play this game, Spitfire.
 
" Yeah? That plane of mine can go a thousand miles and still blow you to shit. "
 
> Well, could go a thousand miles if it wasn't dead.
 
> And probably could kill if it still had weapons.
 
> ... You might have to sneak some on the new one.
 
> For the lulz.
 
> ... Though, you don't exactly have the tools to build guns.
 
> They would've been nice to have.
 
> " Yeah yeah, look. I came in to say... I'm sorry. For being ass all the time. "
 
> wat
 
> Where is the real Fleetfoot.
 
> This is some sort of clone
 
> A less bitchy clone.
 
> As gramps used to say, " Take what'cha git, I ain't give a shit. "
 
> Well, thanks brain. Now you miss him too.
 
" Don't worry about it. We all get stressed. "
 
> Spitfire especially.
 
> Almost punched a fan in the face two weeks ago.
 
> That was fun to deal with.
 
> Eh. That's probably what REAL Lieutenants do.
 
> A smile spreads across Fleet's face.
 
> She jump up on your lap, too.
 
> You are now the team snuggler, it seems.
 
> There's a lot worse titles.
 
> " Hey Ano? " Spitfire asks
 
> You decide to give a grunt, it still hurts a bit to talk.
 
> " I been thinking lately... "
 
> Just get to it, you silly adorable horse
 
> "... I'm retiring. "
 
> Oh shit what
 
> " I'm way past flight age, at least professionally. "
 
> Th' fuck
 
> Nobody ever told you
 
> That means...
 
> Oh fuck, are you the new Captain?
 
> " A mare my age should be... getting married, havin' kids, y'know? "
 
> You really don't know.
 
> Then again, you're not exactly the pinnacle of youth either.
 
> You can't even remember the last time you had a birthday party.
 
> ...
 
> When is your birthday?
 
> Hell, you don't even know what quarter it's in.
 
> Maybe you could say it's when you arrived here.
 
> Which was...
 
> Uh...
 
> Februnemtoberuly tweltheefourth.
 
> Somewhere along there.
 
> What?
 
> Oh.
 
> Right.
 
> Spitfire.
 
> " Married, huh? Got anyone in mind, Cap? " Fleetfoot chimes in
 
> Heh.
 
> Wonder who'd have to deal with Fleetfoot.
 
> Probably Soarin.
 
> He was always a cock.
 
> " Well, there is this stallion I've been eyeing. I don't think he feels the same way, though. "
 
> Fuck Soarin.
 
> Seriously.
 
> Worse than Tom from engineering.
 
> " Well, did you ask him? "
 
> You never forgave him for that time he emptied your Dew bottle and replaced it with piss.
 
> He made you so mad that fucking Jackson held you back.
 
> JACKSON.
 
> The guy who tried everything in his power to get you off of that carrier.
 
> " Well, no... "
 
> The one time he had the perfect chance, and he held you back.
 
> ...
 
> Now that you think about it, maybe he wasn't all that bad.
 
> Sure, he wasn't all that GOOD, but he still did a great job at being a WSO.
 
> Never screwed around in the air, and always kept your asses from getting shot down.
 
> Damn, you kinda miss him.
 
> Wait, what are they talking about?
 
> You sorta blanked for a minute.
 
> " What about you, Ano? "
 
> Fuck
 
> You've been bamboozled
 
> Thanks Trump
 
> Think.
 
> Work that brain.
 
> ...
 
> It's not work-
 
> OH SHIT RIGHT
 
> You caught some of the conversation!
 
> At least, maybe
 
> Hopefully.
 
" I dunno. Maybe. "
 
> Nice.
 
> Aced it so hard that you're going straight to Fleet Admiral.
 
> Just for that ace.
 
> Bam.
 
> Say hello to the new Admiral Nimitz, bitches.
 
> Which, somewhat ironically, was the carrier you served on.
 
> ...
 
> Fuck, Spitfire looks sad now.
 
> What were they talking about?
 
> Stallions?
 
> Probably.
 
> That's all Fleetfoot talks about.
 
> That and promotions
 
> Like really
 
> Look at you.
 
> You're the Lieutenant now.
 
> Wait, no you're not
 
> You kinda lost that rank
 
> More of an honorary LT.
 
> Or retired.
 
> Damn.
 
> Being the higher-up was fun.
 
> Wait, what were you doing?
 
> FUCK
 
> FOCUS.
 
> SPITFIRE.
 
> SAD.
 
> Fleetfoot looks sad too.
 
> Or offended.
 
> If she goes all tumblr triggered you gon' hafta smack a bitch.
 
> Several times.
 
> With a shoe.
 
> Dammit, you're doing it again.
 
> You draw Spits into a hug and hope you didn't make yourself look like an ass.
 
> Again.
 
 
> "Ano? "
 
> fushitass scramble fighters
 
> What?
 
> Oh
 
> You dozed off again
 
> Gotta stop that
 
" Mmm? " you grunt questioningly
 
> Which is totally a thing
 
> Shut up
 
> " Have you ever... had a marefriend before? "
 
> Wait, is this refering to earlier?
 
> Shit.
 
> You always bite yourself in the ass
 
" Once. Me and Twilight were a thing for a while. "
 
> Ech.
 
> " What happened? "
 
> Your hands clench.
 
" Remember when I went to jail? I beat the guy fuckin' her to a pulp, smashed up the place, and left. "
 
> Spent the rest of the day at the bar trying, and failing, to get drunk.
 
> Having Russian parents didn't help.
 
> " Oh... "
 
> Her ears lay flat on her head, and she looks away.
 
> It's not the first time you've been asked about Twilight.
 
> The first time was from her brother, Captain Clueless.
 
> " I... it was kinda the same way with me and Soarin... except for the punching part... "
 
> Nothing was said for the rest of the night.
 
> No words, only hugs.
 
> Release day.
 
> Finally.
 
> All is well now.
 
> Except for the fact that your back aches like a motherfucker.
 
> The doors to the outside world open and...
 
> ...
 
> The fuck is this?
 
> Snow?
 
> It was November when you checked the calender last!
 
> And that was the day before Manehatten!
 
> God dammit.
 
> Stupid snow.
 
> Stupid Manehatten.
 
> Stupid... weather horses
 
> At least it's not too cold.
 
> Thank you, Russian blood.
 
> Huh, speaking of Russia...
 
> Wonder if there's an equivalent here.
 
> Oh, shit, Spitfire.
 
> Right.
 
> Where is she?
 
> Let's see...
 
> Blue, silver, rainbow...
 
> " Ano, over here! "
 
> Real specific, Spits.
 
> Where the fu...
 
> You look all around.
 
> Behind you.
 
> Ears should have caught that.
 
> " C'mon, we got a train to catch! "
 
> Train?
 
> Couldn't we just fly?
 
> ...
 
> Oh.
 
> Right.
 
> Good job, memory.
 
 
> This train is boring.
 
> Like, really boring.
 
> Out the windows, nothing but hills.
 
> And grass.
 
> Sometimes there's a tree.
 
> Even those become mundane after the first hour.
 
> And to believe it took this long to fly.
 
> Maybe the sky is just more interesting.
 
> Maybe because it was more...
 
> Involving?
 
> Skillful?
 
> Fun?
 
> Something like that.
 
> Glancing over, Spitfire seems just as bored with the scenery as you are.
 
> Neither of you has said anything since getting on.
 
> Time to break the ice, you suppose.
 
" Y'know, " She turns her head to you " I remember when I joined the Navy. Thought I was gonna be in there for life. "
 
> Adjusting your back to get comfortable, you continue.
 
" I wanted to be the very best, like noone ever was. Thought I would be shooting down planes all week. "
 
> How stupid you were.
 
" But, after my first combat mission, I realized something. "
 
> " What was that? " Spitfire mumbles
 
> The train whistles loudly, interrupting your thoughts.
 
> Must be getting close.
 
" I remembered my dad saying he wanted me to take up racing. He had his own plane and everything. Meant the world to him. "
 
 
" The day I left for my ship, he told me " Son, you come back, we go drinking." in that nice old Russian voice of his. '
 
 
" It's been five years since he died. We never had that drink. I remember his last words. He wanted me to take up air racing. "
 
> You look to spitfire, a slight smile on your face.
 
" So I did. "
 
 
> Turns out the whistle was just because the train was letting on passengers at another stop
 
> So now you're on hour two
 
> Probably
 
> It's been so long that Spitfire sat next to you for ear rubs
 
> She's having a grand time while you're counting how many trees have passed.
 
> Speaking of, there's number 741776
 
> How the fuck have you kept track of all these?
 
> And why is that number familiar?
 
> And why the FUCK IS THIS RIDE SO BORING
 
> CYKA BLYAT
 
> CHEEKI BREEKI
 
> Whoa, okay, getting a little too excited there.
 
> Brought out dad's side a bit
 
> But really, you looked at a map before you left.
 
> Didn't seem this long.
 
> Bet it's those fucking Griffons.
 
> Almost as bad as the Chechens.
 
> Fuck Chechnya.
 
> Fuck Griffonia or whatever it is.
 
> Fuck this train.
 
> Fuck... Uh...
 
> Nah, Spitfire's alright.
 
> Ah, who else could you blame...
 
> Hmm.
 
> Oh, fuck Twilight too.
 
> On second thought, nevermind, someone else already did.
 
> Eh, that's about it.
 
> Maybe Soarin' too.
 
> Fuck all them bitches.
 
> At this point, you're starting to hate the entire world.
 
> Purely because this train is so boring.
 
> Equestria could use some tips from the Japanese on trains.
 
> You rode one of those Mag-Lev ones once.
 
> That was fun.
 
> Went like 150 miles an hour
 
> You never realized how fast the Navy jets were until then.
 
> Wait up a sec
 
> What's that in the distance?
 
> Holy fuck nigger it's ponyville!
 
> You haven't been this happy since the second engine in the racer started!
 
> It's so close!
 
 
> The train is stopping now, and Spitfire is grabbing some saddle bags.
 
> Seeings how you don't exactly have any bags, you're getting some extra sitting time in.
 
> 'Cause you a lazy nigga.
 
> " Hey, I'll see ya later Ano. " Spitfire calls as she walks out.
 
> Don't stare at butt.
 
> Don't do it.
 
> Success.
 
> " Hey, if you want to look, at least take me to dinner first. " She says with a sway of her hips
 
> F-fuck.
 
> Okay, look out the window
 
> Oh, it's a bird
 
> Isn't that the most interesting but-BIRD in the world.
 
> That's a nice Bluebird.
 
> ...
 
> God damn it...
 
> Just go back home now.
 
> It'll be nice.
 
> You get up and head off, noticing a certain purple pony following you home
 
> Seriously, Twilight has been practically stalking you for the last six months.
 
> It's getting ridiculous now.
 
> At least she's not running after you and yelling this time.
 
> Ech...
 
> This here's better times, Ano.
 
> Better times.
 
 
> The walk back home was pretty boring, other than Twilight smashing her face into a pole at one point
 
> Heh
 
> Looks like someone needs glasses.
 
> It's nice to finally be home, though.
 
> Now... what to do...
 
> Could go out back to the shed and work on some designs, but that can wait.
 
> Fuck it, it's a sit back and relax kind of day.
 
> Just you, your favorite chair, and a hard cider.
 
> If you can even call it " hard "
 
> Takes like two gallons to even feel a buzz.
 
> Total bullshit.
 
> Russians would shoot whoever came up with this.
 
> You would've, but you don't quite have access to weaponry like that.
 
> Where is that cider anyway?
 
> Fridge?
 
> Nope.
 
> Shelves?
 
> Nyet.
 
> Cabinet?
 
> Cyka...
 
> Where is it?
 
> Damn, is it gone already?
 
> You picked that up last month!
 
> Usually lasts two!
 
> Fuck!
 
> Guess it's just sit back and relax for today.
 
> No alcohol...
 
> What would dad say?
 
> ...Probably something about this being the German's fault.
 
> Yeah, it's probably on them anyway.
 
> You sit in the chair and start thinking about recent things.
 
> Something that you do every now and again when the chance arrives.
 
> You're most likely out of a job, still haven't confirmed that
 
> Spitfire is retireing
 
> Going to have to take it easy with the back and legs
 
> And you're already bored from not working on the plane.
 
> Whatever, time for the relax portion of it.
 
> Brain switching off.
 
 
> Oh hey, you're awake again.
 
> Judging by the sun, it's only been about an hour.
 
> What to do... what to do...
 
> Ah!
 
> You could visit an old friend for a job!
 
> Yeah, that sounds good.
 
> Wonderbolts made good money, but it's not enough to stay afloat forever.
 
> To the apple farm!
 
 
> There's the red bastard.
 
> He's over in the field kicking some trees.
 
" Mac! " You call to him
 
> Big Red begins starts moving towards you, and you can tell it's been a bit too long since you've hung out.
 
> Hopefully, that's about to change.
 
> " Ano? What'cha need? "
 
" A job, actually. "
 
> His once exited face turns to a bit of a scowl as the two of you walk towards the house.
 
> " Ah heard 'bout yer crash. Y'sure yer up ta apple buckin'? "
 
> This pony.
 
> " Ah jus' don't want ya gettin' hurt again. "
 
> This pony, he is a good pony.
 
> You show that by petting him on head.
 
" I'll be fine. Takes more than a tree full of apples to kill me. "
 
> He snorts and bats your hand with a hoof.
 
> " Come on in, we're havin' apple fritters for dinner. "
 
> These ponies. They are good ponies.
 
> Hell, it's been a few months since you've even talked to them, let alone ate dinner with them.
 
> You're still not used to that. Seems like every time you come over, they want you to eat with them.
 
> Something about Granny Smith not wanting you to go home on an empty belly.
 
> It's free food anyways, so why not?
 
> " Granny! Make some extra, we got us a visitor! "
 
> " An' by th' way, ya start tomorrow mornin, so eat up. "
 
> Aw yeah. Free food, a new job with your buddy, and some exercise.
 
 
> Dinner went by smoothly, and you set out for home.
 
> The sky is getting darker by the minute, and there aren't exactly street lights around.
 
> Though, you've always enjoyed the night-time.
 
> Made it easier to think.
 
> Which is exactly what you're doing now.
 
> Random thoughts, mostly, but there's one thing sticking.
 
> Spitfire.
 
> More specifically, what she said getting off the train.
 
> There's been some awkward boners when she sat on your lap, but she never said anything about it.
 
> It's probably just her joking, but...
 
> ... Eh, best not to think too hard.
 
> Besides, you're already home.
 
> Seeings as there's no lock, you turn the knob and head in.
 
> Seriously, someone should invent this shit.
 
> Wait, you had a friend that did locksmith stuff.
 
> Didn't he teach you a little at some point?
 
> Ah well, maybe after the plane is built.
 
> You close the door and head to your bed.
 
> Slowly, trying not to hurt your legs or back, you strip down.
 
> Once you're in your underwear, you lay down and pull the blanket over you.
 
> And sweet Stalin's steely stache is this bed so much better than the hospital.
 
> Y'know, being actually big enough for you and all.
 
> Your eyes shut, and you drift off to dreamland.
 
 
> Ever get the feeling someones watching you?
 
> 'Cause you're feeling that feel right now.
 
> You're standing in a hanger back on Earth, in which there is a Spitfire.
 
> Not Captain Spitfire, just a regular boring old Spitfire.
 
> Looks like a Mark 9.
 
> Not as impressive as the one you're building, though.
 
> " We assume this is from thine's realm? "
 
> You jump a bit from the voice, trying to find it's owner.
 
> Wait...
 
> The voice, the dream...
 
> Probably Princess Luna, seeing how she's the only one who can "Dream-walk" or whatever.
 
> Good going, brain.
 
> Still working well.
 
> She descends from the ceiling and lands next to you.
 
" Yeah. Old thing from a war. " You say, walking to the plane.
 
> Oddly, it's painted up in a Wonderbolts livery, unlike your old one.
 
> Kinda nice, actually.
 
> It's blue overall, with yellow like on the uniforms down the bottom.
 
> Just below the cockpit is your rank and name.
 
> Weirdly, it says " Captain. "
 
> On the horizontal stabiliser lays the famous lightning bolt with wings.
 
> " Interesting... " Luna says
 
> She moves over as well, looking at every detail.
 
> Meanwhile, you hop up and jump in the cockpit.
 
> Looking around the instruments, you see the fuel gauge.
 
> Empty.
 
> Welp, that should've been expected.
 
> Not like they have any here, anyway.
 
> The Bearcat ran out of gas on the first day, but Twilight made it work off magic.
 
> Even that wore off after a while, though.
 
> ... Shit, how are you gonna get your Spitfire to work?
 
> Huh, hadn't thought of that.
 
> You're probably still fairly famous, so maybe you could pull some strings.
 
> That can wait for later, though.
 
> For now, you're just gonna admire this thing.
 
 
> ... Or not, because you just woke up.
 
> Well, you got things to do.
 
> Falling gracefully out of bed, and onto the floor, you run through your morning routine.
 
> Shit, shower, shave the fuzz off of your face.
 
> You eat some Plot-O's™ cereal, and out the door you go.
 
> The first thing you notice is, it got warmer out.
 
> Almost like spring warm.
 
> Weird.
 
> Doesn't matter, you've got work to do.
 
 
 
> When you got the farm, it turns out there wasn't much to do.
 
> Mostly just moving shit around the place, but you got paid anyways.
 
> After you got home, Spitfire came over.
 
> The two of you have been talking for a while, about the state of the Wonderbolts mostly.
 
> She had considered putting you in as Captain, but decided it'd be better to have someone who was flight capable.
 
> Understandable, what's a flight leader without the flight?
 
> A rumble from your belly brings you from the thought realm.
 
> " Hey, wanna grab some dinner? " She suggests
 
> It's been a while since you actually went out to a restaurant, mainly due to fans and shit.
 
> Could be nice.
 
" Yeah, anywhere in mind? "
 
> Spitfire thinks for a while, and you start to suspect you broke her.
 
> But, it looks like that's not the case when she puts a hoof up and smiles.
 
> " There's this place near here called The Bannered Mare. Fleetfoot says they have meat there. "
 
> As soon as you heard " meat " you shot out of the chair and put on your jacket.
 
> Better have some damn steak there, it's been almost a year since you've had one.
 
> Dis gon b gud day.
 
 
" You sure this is the place? " you ask
 
> The building before you is...
 
> Well, some would say " Grandiose. "
 
> You'd rather call it fancy as fuck.
 
> It's big, colorful, and just plain nice.
 
> Though your wallet might disagree.
 
> " Ano please, I know this town like the back of my tail. "
 
> But...
 
" That... that doesn't make sense. "
 
> " Come on, I know you want to know what it looks like back there. "
 
> She hovers up to your ear and goes to a whisper
 
> " I've seen you taking glances in the shower room. "
 
> Pulling back from you with a wink, you cough into your hand and continue on.
 
> This could get... much more awkward if she knew your thoughts.
 
> See, you've had a sort of crush on Spitfire since you started going to lunch together.
 
> She'd caught you peeking in the showers before, but never said anything.
 
> Stupid sexy Spitfire...
 
> You open the doors to the restaurant and can smell steak.
 
> Yep. This is going to be a very good day.
 
> Well, evening, at least.
 
> " Table for two? " a waiter asks
 
> Spitfire nods her head, and the waiter gestures for you to follow.
 
> You arrive at a table and sit, and waiter mcwaiterson gets some drinks.
 
> You went with some water, Spitfire with wine.
 
> Never liked wine, yourself.
 
> Looking over the menu, there's all sorts of meat here.
 
> Steaks, pork chops, chicken, even bacon hamburgers.
 
> For as nice as the building is, they're not very expensive.
 
> The thing that sucks is you can only get one thing.
 
> Spitfire seems to have already chosen and put her menu down.
 
> So have you now, so you put yours down as well.
 
> " Y'know, I kinda thought you'd take me up on that train offer. "
 
> Okay, now she's trying to make it weird.
 
" I was tired. "
 
> She snorts and looks away.
 
> " Do... do you think I'm pretty? "
 
> ...
 
> fuck
 
> You can't just lie to her.
 
> Here goes nothing.
 
" Well,  yeah. I think you're... very pretty. " you answer truthfully
 
> She glances back over and puts her head in her hooves
 
> " It's just... ever since Soarin'... "
 
> Looking back up, she gives you a smile
 
> " Thank you, Ano. "
 
> Dodged a bullet there.
 
> Waiter mchaterson comes back with drinks and takes your orders
 
> Sirloin steak for you, and a hayburger for Spitfire.