"Falling in love?"

I recall a night where I found myself falling.

Falling like a comet from space, rapidly without anything to stop me from landing on the Ponyville floor below.

It seemed life wasn't going to last much longer. Indulging in Discord's own work of a drink had struck back, and now I had no idea what I was doing. Perhaps it was punishment...or perhaps a chosen fate that lead me to something better...

If I were to remember what lead me to such ends, I'd have to remember that night...and what such night lead me to, the good or the bad...

...

The night began like any another normal night with the boys from Flight School. We gathered out near the old Cloudsdale Arena to enjoy a little bit of time, as that area of Cloudsdale was never watched closely by authorities...as if there were any.

"Hey SS, how the hay are ya?" A bloated voice called out from nearby in the dark. The dim lighting around me was able to reveal the tubby figure of Featherhead, one of the few friends I had. His body spoke as a dunce, and his eyes spoke further for such. Despite his neon-orange coat and general skill in flying, Featherhead never had the mental capacity to take advantage of his strength. In fact, most of it was just wasted on his constant crashes.

O'le Feather's pop didn't accept this fact of stupidity well. In fact, he trained himself to forget it over time, and simply continued his efforts at training Featherhead for something big, perhaps the Best Young Flyers competition. However, the competition seemed to get more intense every year, and with Featherhead's growing obliviousness to the object at hand, his father seemed to give up on the task...a sad end to a family with roots relating back to the first Wonderbolts...

Next to Featherhead, with his hoof holding his head up from the wall, was Mile High, more of a regret than a friend. As his very name suggested, 'Miles' as he liked to be called was constantly living his life on the high. He constantly dared to be the best, flying his flank into business that regarded danger, and even death at worst. He would never back down from a race, never say no to firing through Ghastly Gorge, and would pick fights with anypony he could. Perhaps that's what gave him all those scars...no one knew though, because I was the only competent pony to ever go near the guy willingly, let alone be friends with him.

"Hey Skipper. How you feelin' tonight?" Mile High asked with a sly grin, one that displayed all the trouble pent up in him. If an expression painted a pony, his smile would be equivalent to the highest caliber of art in Canterlot. However, he was always smiling when he saw me. Somehow, I suppose he thought I was a pawn to something. Whatever plan he had, it contained me and the unfortunate lug Featherhead next to him, who was currently staring into the night sky.

"I'm feeling better than yesterday..." I lied. I felt awful. My wings ached from the constant flying I'd done the whole day. Soon after the aches, came the torture of the words. Words from the other Pegasi. After all, I wasn't special. I didn't sport any spectacular colors, unless a brown coat and black mane was special. My speed has flattened out since I stopped racing religiously, and with that being the fad, a Pegasus without speed was the equivalent to not having wings.

"Don't sound like it...but hey, I got a way to help ya out with that. We're ganna have some fun tonight, bud," 'Miles' said with a smirk, wrapping his hoof around my neck. I never felt uncomfortable around Mile High, as he never really hated me. In fact, he rather protected me like a father. The constant teasing at Flight School had progressed recently, but the veil of fear certainly shut the comments...but then turned on the resentment. You could never win in this town...

"Yeah! We're ganna have some fun! Fun time!" Featherhead chimed-in, clearly amped for whatever we were doing. I kept quiet with a smile, trying to assure the two I would participate. After all, I didn't want to damper the fun. Besides, with how today was going, I needed something to lift me.

"Got that right, ya lug nut! I got myself some crazy stuff from a unicorn early today!" Miles said with a mischievous grin. A common grin. If one phrase was ever said most often in my days, it was 'crazy stuff'. Equestria made itself out to be a sweet place. The fact half of the residents were neon-colored gave that away. However, drugs ran through the kingdom like spilled cider in a wood floor, and Mile High always had first dibs. No one ever knew why. Some theorized it was because his father (Whoever he was) had connections. Others just assumed Miles was a smooth-talker when it came to the trade. I never cared to find out, and to this day I don't want to discover how.

Without missing a beat, Mile High ripped open a bag he had hanging around his neck, and out spilled three small, glass bottles of a light-colored liquid.

"Oh, oh! What are those things?" Featherhead called out, sounding extremely gleeful that he noticed the three bottles. Before he reach his head in to try a bit, Miles quickly kicked the poor lug in the head, sending him staggering back in realization of pain, complete with moans of pain.

"They ain't 'things', ya dunce. They're called 'Rarities'. Picked it up from a guy I knew down in Everfree," Miles said with an accomplished grin. Every little drug he got his hooves on was like a personal trophy to him. I bent down to get a better look at the concoction, and quickly noticed the fact light was literally blazing out of it. The potion almost moved, the rainbow colors it filled the container with were clearly circulating slowly.

I had no idea where Mile High got this stuff, but I didn't question. After all, both paths looked undesirable. One path, questioning, would result in lose of trust. Losing trust in 'Miles', while not surprising, wouldn't be good for my sleep...meanwhile, acceptance of the liquid would result in...future consequence.

However, the ominous grin of Mile High's face assured me I wasn't going to get out of line.

"So...may I ask why these things are called 'Rarities'?" I asked, sounding rather skeptical on retrospect. However, Miles simply ignored this and answered with losing a beat.

"You ever hear about the story of that dorky unicorn Rarity?" Mile High said with an ominous tone. This always meant a ghost story of some sort, or some sort of story about death, like 'Dead-Pony Drop' (Which didn't exist, which is why we never saw Cloud Catcher again...I still wonder if he figured out it wasn't in the middle of Everfree Forest...) to accompany.

"Oh yeah! That unicorn that tried to fly and fell from the sky! Was an idiot, but might as well try!" Featherhead said, his slow voice taking on a sing-song quality. He wasn't a gifted singer either, but at least he had the idea of tone.

"Yeah, the song...Well, these things are guaranteed to knock us down a notch! This unicorn, he GUARANTEED this stuff would slow us down and make us feel better in no time!" Mile High stated, sounding rather excited. He seemed to think his work was paying off big time this time around. After all, all that hard work of talking really drained him...

"Yes, because trusting a random unicorn from Everfree Forest is what I intend to-" Mile High didn't let me finish my sentence, as he quickly shoved one of the bottles into my face, and another one into Featherhead's face, who smiled warmly at the gift.

"Shut up and drink," Mile High said with a grin, as he quickly poured the whole liquid down in a gulp with good precision, considering our lack of magic.

I stared down at the bottle in my hoof, wondering what my decision would affect. The light potion tantalized me, its light bouncing into my eyes and dancing around. This was a textbook example of what Cheerilee had taught me back down in Ponyville...these things were bad news. That was what we were trained to believe. The sun shined, birds flew, and drugs were bad. However, apparently Mile High never got these memos. I myself payed attention...but I was going to say no to my only friend? My life seemed to be chugging off the rails whether I said yes or no...the question was, did I want a friend to aid me while I head down that road to nowhere?

I finally closed my eyes, not believing I was about to perform this act, and I felt the liquid sizzle down my throat with a silky texture. I sat for ten seconds, wondering if the liquid I'd downed was simply the poison of wrong-doing and sweat I myself had created, but it only took me 5 seconds before my vision began to waver, and quickly the poison I'd consumed went from knowing my wrong-doing to the doing itself...and then, my brain felt like it exploded...and then exploded again...

...

"Yo bro, don't be doin' that!"

I felt like somepony had dropped a rock on my head.

I could barely hear a few mumbles near me. They sounded like Mile High and Featherhead, but for all I knew at that point, they could've been the law after us. After all, the voices sounded completely out of tune from my friends' normal voices. They sounded more relaxed, more dazed.

It only took a few seconds for me to realize the black that had engulfed my eyes. For a moment I thought, oh Celestia no, I'm blind!

However, the abyss-like haze began to clear, and soon my eyes were able to interpret the shapes of Mile High and Featherhead. Both were still intact. Good start.

I attempted to move my hooves. That's when I immediately ran into my first problem.

My hooves weren't moving.

In fact, they felt like they'd been numbed. I could feel them, however. As I attempted to struggle with raising a hoof, Mile High began snickering a bloated-sounding snicker with his coal-black eyes simply dilating in hilarity.

"He's like a trapped fish," Mile High said, his grin breaking out the air of his laugh. Featherhead simply laughed along, as he looked at me with a simple look of stupidity. It was a common look, but what wasn't common was Mile High's look. His eyes seemed far-off and dazed. Not only this, but his snickers were continuing, almost as if he was in a violent fit of snickering. It was clear his own trophy had dealt him a bad hoof of cards...

"What...what are you two...Ow!" I managed to pop out, suddenly feeling the immense pain the hangover provided. My first reaction was to double over in pain, but oddly enough, I couldn't feel my body either. It almost felt like...

...I'm such an idiot...

I finally realized what was happening. The two morons in front of me tied me up for whatever reason. I could clearly feel my body was immobile. After all, the fact my hooves were all next to each other wasn't natural, I was sure.

"Hey, you asked to be tied up," Mile High said with his never-ending snicker plaguing his comment. I had no idea why I'd ask to be tied up, but I couldn't question it when I had no idea what had happened in-between now and when I first gulped that horrible rainbow substance.

"You said you wanted us to drop you out of the sky and see if you break that rock open down there. You said it was ganna be AWESOME!" Featherhead chimed-in, his brick-like tone playing its part more noticeably now. I suddenly realized what they were about to do.

"Wait...you're going to drop me out of the sky?" I asked, not noting the horrible truth until I said it for myself. I suddenly realized, my mind flipping to the "On" switch, what was about to happen.

"Wait, no!...You can't be serious!" I objected, struggling to keep my banging headache from growing any larger. Mile High and Featherhead, at this point slaves to the drug we took, simply grinned at each other.

"No turnin' back, man! You want it, you got it!" Mile High exclaimed, turning around and rearing his hind legs, right at an angle that was perfect trajectory for him to buck me in the face.

"Wait! I changed my mind! Y-yeah!" I managed to stutter out, trying to find any way out of this situation. After all, I'd already found myself tied up, feeling the effects of a quick hangover from pure rainbow shots. My two friends (And I use that term lightly...) both glanced at each other with confused expressions, unsure of why I'd do such a thing.

"Wait...you don't want to try this out?" Featherhead asked rather solemnly, his tone sounding disappointed in nature. Perhaps his wish was to see some funny stuff occur...unfortunately, that wouldn't be true in my case.

"Yes! I don't want to be dropped out of the sky and onto a rock! That's the last thing I want!" I responded loudly, my voice losing its resiliance and fading into a hopeful tone. I was thankful that, even under the influence, Featherhead was a loveable oaf of a colt. It appeared he was about ready to untie me, his head craning down to reach for the rope wrapped around me. I could almost hop around on the ground with glee-

"Wait!"

The loud, rather obnoxious voice of Mile High echoed off into the air, carrying a rather eery silence. Featherhead stopped his jaws as he was told, and lifted his head back up. His eyes now read of regretful obedience, seeming to be a silent cry for help.

"If it's the last thing you want to do...then what do you wanna do?" Mile High questioned, a single brow perked in his own clever way. It seemed Mile High, even when...high, had some kind of strategic ability.

"Wait, what?" I suddenly pondered, the hope building in my soul crumbling down like a stack of bricks. What could he possibly be thinking of, I wondered.

"You said that being dropped out was the last thing you wanted to do. Well, what's the first thing?" Mile High interrogated, his tone surprisingly serious in its distinction. It was almost as if he actually thought I meant it...

"Well I...uhh...It's an expression, Miles! You gotta fight those drugs, bud! They're messing with your head!" I finally yelped, tears blowing from my eyes as I thought of the huge fall only a few feet away behind me. If I fell, there would be no return. No more life, no more friends...or what I could even call friends...

"...Maybe he's right, Mile?" Featherhead offered, his tone sounding quite emotional and caring, a side I'd never seen from the lug. I couldn't tell if the drugs were somehow advancing his thinking, but I knew one thing...the dumbest pony here was my only hope. This wasn't a good thing, I hope you are all aware...

However, Mile High suddenly tweaked his expression a bit. From his clever smile and snicker, to a rather weak frown. As if in dreaded realization, and he backed himself up about a few canter-worths.

"Gee Dumbbell..." Mile High began, his tone a small one in nature. It seemed he finally had discovered what error was about to occur here. It seemed he had finally overcome the influ-

"-I GUESS NOT!"

All of the sudden, in a flash of stars and a hazy blast of power, I felt myself surge forward with a mass of velocity. Pain echoed through my entire brain, one from the drugs, and the other from what Mile High had just done...

...but it wasn't the buck that dealt the damage. Oh no, it was the fact that I was betrayed by my own friends. Heck, I even thought I heard a cheer from an otherwise un-knowing Featherhead as I now arched downwards, my whole body rolling forward in an odd gravity roll. It seemed Celestia had deemed my fate...I was facing the ground, the same place I was about to make a huge smash into.

I was, quite literally, staring death in the face...and with my friends doing the duty, it seemed I had nothing to fight for to stop the incoming fate...

...

A/N: I'll be perfectly honest, I'm less proud of this than Fortune & Glory. However, I found this would be an interesting attempt at a fic...so, just comment and tell me what you think! Tell me if this is a good fic to go forward with, or tell me to make any improvements! I'm all ears!

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