Aces High 2: Name of the Game.


                                            =Aces High 2=


                                            -Music: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5NV6Rdv1a3I-

                                            >"Come along! Come along! Everypony up at at'em!"

                                            >You groan and clutch your head at the sound awakening you.

                                            >The bed you feel yourself laying against lurches to the left a bit, shifting the contents of your stomach.

                                            >That meant the ship was already moving.

                                            >You roll over and paw at the spot next to you: Empty.

                                            >Good. That meant that any possible mistake you made last night had gotten off the boat before it shoved off.

                                            >Kicking someone off the ship while it was in mid air was always awkward.

                                            >"Come along now! We've business to attend to!"

                                            "I'm up, Fancy! Relax!"

                                            >"Team meeting in ten!" he shout.

                                            >Oh brilliant...

                                            >Fancypants was many things in Equestria. Socialite, Philanthropist, eccentric millionaire, and to you; proprietary investor and manager of the Wonderbolts, thus making him your boss's boss.

                                            >If he was calling a meeting, it was more than a bit important.

                                            >You hear a groaning of equal annoyance from the room next to you, that'd be Soarin'.

                                            >"Anonymous...what the hell is this about?" he asks through the walls.

                                            "I don't know Soar, did you wake up with some underage girl in your bed again?"

                                            >"That happened ONCE and her birthday was two weeks away, thank you very much."

                                            >You chuckle as you dig through the drawer beside your desk for your liquid rainbow stash.

                                            >Nothing better to cure a hangover.

                                            >You down the brew and endure the momentary magna your veins have transformed into along with the sense of vertigo before you let out a loud burp, releasing the last of the alcohol from your system.

                                            >"Six out of ten." Soarin' says.

                                            "Always a goddamn critic..." you mutter.


                                            >The Albatross came with a moderately sized meeting room for team members in the event of a long journey.

                                            >Five of you plus Fancypants sit around the round table, all passing time until you could begin.

                                            >Fire Streak sits next to you on your right. "Did this meeting really have to happen onboard at this hour? We're what, two hours out from Canterlot?" he asks rubbing his light orange mane.

                                            >Soarin' stretches next to you. "Relax, Streaker. We're up no earlier than we are for drills anyway."

                                            >Fleetfoot folds her hooves behind her head and elbows Fire Streak. "Yeah relax man, this is all part of the whole "Being famous" thing."

                                            >Misty Fly rolls her eyes, eyes that look the least messed up out of all of yours. "Not to mention it's a part of your JOB, Fire Streak. You could at least do it for the bits."

                                            >He raises his hooves. "Alright! Celestia, lay off."

                                            >Fancypants raps a hoof on the surface of the table and smiles. "Oh come now team! Let's not all start fighting until we've heard the news, yes?"

                                            >You chuckle dryly.

                                            "Not exactly filling us with confidence, sir."

                                            >He chuckles as well. "Now there's no reason to be so formal, old bean. Just call my Fancypants."

                                            >You nod.

                                            >Fancypants may be your boss, but at least he was cool.

                                            >The door at the back of the room opens and a fire maned head wearing dark aviator glasses pokes in.

                                            >"Hey, am I late?"

                                            >Fancypants smiles. "Not terribly Spitfire, take a seat right there." he says as he gestures to a vacant seat next to you and Soarin'.

                                            >Spitfire sits down and rubs her head as Fancypants prepares some things.

                                            >You lean over to her.

                                            "Rough night?" you whisper.

                                            >"Used my last liquid rainbow..." she mutters.

                                            >You cant your head.

                                            "Constant partying might do that to you."

                                            >She laughs. "Been my style for years Anon, can't teach this old dog any new tricks."

                                            >Ol-

                                            >Fancypants clears his throat and makes you shoot back into your seat.

                                            >"Good morning, everypony." he starts. "I see you're all still with us after that  little humdinger of a do last night."

                                            >A chorus of somewhat weak cheers echoes back to him.

                                            >He chuckles. "One day I'll take you all to Neighpon to show you a -real- good time. But! Onto work then!"

                                            >Fancypants sits down at the far end of the table and smiles, like always. "I'm sure you've all heard about the re-organizing the RRF is doing."

                                            >RRF stood for Royal Racing Federation, the group started a bunch of years back that basically organized all the races in every kingdom in the world.

                                            >Fire nods. "Safety regulation issues, right sir?"

                                            >Fancy nods. "Indeed. And it's come through the pipe that we're to re-organize a bit as well."

                                            >The chorus of groans grows louder now.


                                            >Now now team, no need to fret. This is for your safety.

                                            >It was too early for this...

                                            >You rub your face. [spoiler][/spoiler] "Just tell us what the damage is, Fancy..."

                                            >He floats a bag onto the table and brings some familiar looking gold and pins.

                                            >"Trainee pins?" Fleetfoot asks. "Haven't we outgrown these?

                                            >"Afraid you just grew back into them, dear. The RRF has designated that from now on, every flier needs to operate as a team."

                                            >Spitfire groans. "Is this because of that Gryphon who flew off on his own and got himself eaten?"

                                            "That dragon -did- make international news."

                                            >"Yeah, and now we're all dealing with the fallout from his rookie mistake."

                                            >Fancypants raises a hoof. "Enough." his face softens. "I'm sorry chaps, but my hooves are tied here. This comes down from RRD heads themselves."

                                            >You sigh and pick up a pin.

                                            "So who are the partners?"

                                            >Fancypants smiles again. "We've got analysts going over all your times and numbers from ever race, stunt fly, and practice for the past year. They're going to put those together and give us the absolute best combinations! Really cutting edge stuff."

                                            >Misty raises her own hoof, staying silent until Fancy nods to her. "How will the effect races?" she asks.

                                            >Fancy nods again. "Ah, an excellent question, dear!...One to which I don't have an answer yet. We're apparently the final rounds of re-organization and the Federation is still working on the new rules."

                                            >Everyone rolls their eyes.

                                            >"Is that all?" Soarin' asks.

                                            >Fancy nods. "That it is, my boy. All of you simply have to relax while the rest of us do our jobs and we'll reach out to you."

                                            >You and everyone else nod as you all get up to leave.

                                            >Tethered to another while you fly...great.


                                            >The Albatross usually spends a goof few minutes parked above Canterlot as it waits for clearance to dock, but any crewman worth their salt can tell you what happens when you put six speed addicted stunt flyers in the air over home after a long trip.

                                            >They jump ship, of course.

                                            >You take your bag with your pack on your back up to the deck just in time to see Fire, Fleets, and Misty fly off to different parts of the city with Spitfire jumping off behind them, leaving just Soarin' left.

                                            "You ready, dude?"

                                            >"I've just been waiting for your slow ass."

                                            >You roll your eyes and leap off the side of the boat, igniting your jets and flying down into the city.

                                            >You hazard a glance back to see Soar right behind you.

                                            >Like most national celebrities, you lived in Canterlot most of the time, keeping a residence on the upper reaches overlooking the wharfs.

                                            >It's there that you direct your descent and land on your balcony, Soarin' touching down next to you.

                                            >He must have noticed the face you were making because he speaks up. "Bit for your thoughts."

                                            >You rub your face.

                                            "Ah, just this partner crap. Buncha bureaucratic nonsense that'll screw with our game."

                                            >Soarin' shrugs. "If it stops me from being a dragons lunch, I'll consider it."

                                            >Overhead you hear the roar of high speed flight and see a familiar smoky vapor trail.

                                            "So who's gonna be our esteemed leaders partner?"

                                            >"You mean "Who hasn't already been"?"

                                            >You chuckle.

                                            "Low blow."

                                            >"Only a bit." he says grinning.

                                            >The two of you yawn practically in tandem.

                                            "...Gonna go home and go to bed?"

                                            >"You know it. Seeya, Anonymous."

                                            "Later Soarin'."

                                            >With that he flaps his wings and flies off over the city.

                                            >You on the other hand waste no time walking inside, dropping your bags and pack, collapsing on your bed and passing right the fuck out.