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=Aces High 12=
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>The Albatross: Race day plus one.
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>Day you and Spitfire pretty much saved the team plus one.
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>You’re standing in the kitchen buttering some bread. The ceremonies back in Alpalcia wrapped up late last night and Fancy had you flying home before the sun rose up. He probably wanted to do the press circuit to capitalize on your win.
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>You reach down to the silver medal around your neck and thumb it. You’d won a lot of medals in your time on the team, but this one felt special. Like it had the most weight.
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>And what’s a silver medal without the gold?
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>You hear the clopping of hooves and someone singing form the door. “The roof! The roof! The team is on fire!”
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>”We don’t need no water let the mother bucker-“
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>”Spitfire, I swear to Celestia, if you don’t stop singing then all my interviews over this will be on how I’m shocked you won with the pudge in your belly” Soarin says, walking in the other door.
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>Spitfire sticks her head in the front door and glares.
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“Burn.” You say chuckling.
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>Spitfire walks into the kitchen, a gold medal on her neck. “Yeah yeah, laugh it up, Bigwings.”
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“Don’t be mad, Spitfire. Soarin’ can’t control the size of his wings.”
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>Spitfire puts her hoof on her forehead and swoons. “Oh dear Soarin’, perhaps one day you’ll have matching medals like ours.”
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>Spitfire leans in to you and you instinctively kneel down and mirror her, holding up your medals and giving your best photo-op face for Soarin’.
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>”Nice, Anny.”
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“It felt right.”
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>Soarin’ rolls his eyes. “How you two went from how you were before to now, I’ll never know.”
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>”We totally did it.” Spitfire says.
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>Silence fills the kitchen.
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“…”
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>Spitfire elbows you in the gut. “Anny, that’s your cue.”
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“You gotta give me some warning before you pull shit like that.”
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>Now it’s Spitfire’s turn to roll her eyes. “Uhg.”
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>A few hours later after a hearty noon-breakfast, Fancy comes over the intercoms. “Mares and gentlecolts, we are twenty minutes out of Canterlot docks, please gather your belongings so that you can jump ship before we safely dock like you always do.”
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>He was a good boss, cheeky.
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>You throw your away bag over your shoulder and zip up your flight jacket, heading towards the deck. The rest of the team had already assembled on the deck before you, all conversing as you got closer to the city.
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“How’s the view?” you ask, walking over
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>”Bright.” Soarin’ says squinting. “Weather controllers must’ve cleared the sky of every bit of shade there is today.”
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“It’s not that bad, stop complaining.”
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>You look over the side of the deck as you pass over the rivers and fields just outside the side.
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“You wanna get together tonight? Hang out?”
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>Soarin’ winces. “Sorry, can’t. I have plans tonight.”
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“Another night in re-arranging your stamp collection?”
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>”I’ll have you know that I have a date tonight.” Soarin’ says matter-of-factly.
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“What’s his name?”
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>”I saw that coming, buck you.” Soarin’ says.
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>You begin to chuckle and Soarin’ joins in. It’s all good, and it’s all in fun.
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“Who with?”
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>”That Prench model.” Saorin says, wiggling his eyebrows.
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“It might help to learn her name first, Cassanova…”
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>”You know Soar likes to live dangerously, Anny.” Spitfire says, trotting up behind the two of you. “What’s more dangerous than a pissed off Prenchmare?”
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>”An irritated teammate who’s gonna toss you over the edge?”
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>Spitfire shakes her hooves. “Oooooooo…spooky.”
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>Soarin’ rolls his eyes. “And on that note, I’m out. Sorry we can’t hang out, Anonymous. Maybe another time.”
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“Another time, Soar.”
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>”Another time what?” Spitfire asks.
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“Huh? Oh, I asked him if he wanted to hang out.”
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>”You got the afternoon free?”
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“After I hang up my medal? Yeah.”
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>Spitfire tugs at her strap and secures her saddlebags. “Lead the way.”
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“Wait, you’re coming?”
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>”Well it’s only fair if you went to my house. Come on, let’s hit it!”
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>You shrug and tug at your belt strap before hopping over the edge of the deck.
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>You open the door to your place and usher Spitfire inside.
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“Welcome to the casa, don’t worry about wiping your hooves.”
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>”Never do!” Spitfire says heading inside.
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“I can tell. Lemme toss these somewhere and I’ll get you a drink or something.”
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>You head down the hallway towards your room, Spitfire calls from the living room. “You got Captain?”
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“I got beer.” You call back as you throw your bag on your bed.
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>“S’it -good- beer?” she asks.
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>You walk back into the living room. [spoiler][/spoiler] “It’s beer.”
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>”Hell, I’ll take it.” Spitfire says.
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>You grab two bottles out of your fridge and hand her one, both of you cracking it open at the same time.
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>Spitfire raises hers. “To first place wins.”
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“I’ll drink to that, boss.”
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>You throw back your drink, but Spitfire holds. “Ya know you don’t have to call me that when we’re off duty.”
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“You’re the boss, boss.”
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>She punches you in the shoulder with her hoof and you snigger.
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>”Ass.”
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“That hurt my feelings, now we’re both in the wrong.”
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>Spitfire leans back and sips her beer, shaking her head. “Guess we’re even then…” She looks around the room. At your tv, your shelves of books or pictures or medals, a few statues of races past “Nice place you got here, Anny.”
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“You think? Soarin’ said it was too cramped.”
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>”The open sky’d be too cramped for bigwings.”
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>You snicker again.
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“Can I get you anything else? I can start an early dinner, if you’d like.”
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>Spitfire titters. “Ooohhh~ wining and dining me eh? Whatcha making?”
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“Pasta I guess?”
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>Spitfire sets her drink down and kicks back on the couch. “I like mine with cheese on it, chef.”
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>You adopt a Prench, snooty accent.
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“Qui, right away Madame.”
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>Now…where did you put your apron?
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>”And put some dang music on, will ya!”
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>You spin your fork in your pasta and gather as much of it up before plopping it in your mouth and leaning over your coffee table.
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>Spitfire sits next to you and does similar, looking at the splayed out parts.
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>Tubes and screws and bolts and plates sat spread all over your coffee table. Spitfire and you had tossed back a few and she’d convinced you to crack open your pack to show her how it works.
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>”What’s this bit?” she asks you.
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“That’s the controller. See, it’s hooked up to this radio receiver that picks up the signal from my gloves, that’s how I control the pack.”
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>Spitfire nods. “Ahuh…keep going.”
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“The controller measures the output from the main battery which stores electricity, it feeds through the actuators and powers the thrusters which are the result of ionized Bloodstone.”
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>”And that makes the fire?”
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“Sort of. Bloodstone releases a lot of energy when you run a current through it, but I have to replace the caps every so often.”
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>Spitfire sips her drink and giggles. “Radical…this is one hell of a backpack, Anny. Who built it?”
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“I had it when I came here, but an egghead friend of mine in Ponyville helped me fix it up just right.”
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>”That was when you were trying to get into the team, yeah?”
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“Aw, you know me so well, boss. Yeah, that was before I joined up.”
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>Spitfire nods slowly, taking in what you said and sipping. “Time flies, huh? I remember when you joined up?”
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>That catches your interest.
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“Wait, really?”
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>”Hell yeah! Big hairless monkey with a rocket on his back passes the entrance exams and wins some races? How -couldn’t- I remember?”
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>You rub the back of your head.
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“Honestly, the exams and trials were so grueling that I don’t remember too terribly much about then…just that I was happy to get in.”
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>Spitfire cocks and eyebrow and smirks a devious smirk while sloshing her drink. “So…you didn’t hear about Blaze showboating?”
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“Uh…no?”
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>Spitfire adjusts her seating. “Settle in, rook. It’s time for a story.”
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>Evening passes into night when the princesses change the sky and Spitfire continues on.
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>”And then Soar goes WHAM! RIGHT INTO THE PRINCESSES BOX!”
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>You lose it.
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“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Ooohhh…that sounds like classic Soarin’…”
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>”Guy always pays too much attention to the cheerleaders, one of these days it’s gonna bite him in the ass harder than that.”
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“Ending up with your ass on top of Princess Luna’s head isn’t the hardest it gets?”
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>”If there’s one guy who can top that, it’s gonna be Soarin’.”
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“Here here.” You say, downing some of your beer.
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>Spitfire looks out your windows and notices the hour. “Sheeeeiiiit…it’s late, my housekeeper’s gonna think I’m dead or something.”
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“Is that a common occurrence?”
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>Spitfire hops off the couch and shakes out her legs. “I’ve lost three damn housekeepers to them thinking I’m dead and bailing, I am not losing another one!”
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>You begin gathering the refuse of your get together and taking it to the kitchen.
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“Well good luck out there, I had fun tonight.”
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>You return to the living room to find Spitfire smiling back at you. “Yeah…had a good time here Anny, even learned some stuff. Stay cool, eh?”
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“Cool as ice, boss.”
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>”And stop callin’ me that! Damn!”
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>Spitfire chuckles and heads out onto your porch before leaping into the air and flying away.
by Mandroid
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