Fallout

The dark void went on forever. Dash floated without bearing, breathless, aimless. Why was she here again? No, why was she still here? She had never left. She wondered at herself, as if she was surprised she had ever existed. Somewhere below, the earth was faintly lit by a distant, flickering light. It was stained, corrupted. She turned from it in disgust, but its corruption had somehow touched her. In the increasing light, she tried to wipe the stain off her body, but it was no use.

She looked up to see the source of the light. What had started as barely a candle grew into a scorching radiance as it drew near. A sword full of fire and fury was plunging down toward the earth. It lit up the heavens and the earth below like the sudden dawning of the sun. The double edged blade seethed with red wrath in answer to the horrors and bloodshed on the polluted world below.

Dash struggled to escape the path of the holy terror. She flailed her legs and wings, with no ground to run on and no air to fly in, and no breath to scream. Just as doom reached her, a vast golden figure jumped between her and death. The blade pierced through his chest, embedded, and went no further. Their eyes met in that moment.

She gasped and broke free of her paralysis, spasming as she jolted awake and spilling a can of cheap soda on the floor. Rainbow Dash still lay on her couch, and monotone voices still blabbered on about things they didn't understand. The room flickered with the flat light of the television in front of her. The receptor crystal glowed more strongly than ever—so many signals. She was alone in her huge cloud home, where she was supposed to be. She had been promised a lavish retirement, but it always sounded hollow to her. However, it had saved her mind many times to come out here on Sun Days. She was allowed to leave the Factory, under secret surveillance of the Royal Guard, mostly so that Equestria wouldn't worry why one of their precious "mane six" had disappeared.

Now she was being kept here, while they decided what she was. A patsy? A piece of evidence? A victim? Was she a hero, a monster, or more disturbingly, both?

The news channels had turned into a damn good reality show, and Dash found that it was the closest thing to relief to have the truth known by everyone. She didn't have to carry all those secrets anymore, though she felt anything but unburdened. Now the biggest fireworks of the scandal were over.

The damning evidence had all spilled out, and a contrite Princess Celestia had confessed everything to the nation, in the midst of a total breakdown in front of the other Princesses. Apparently she hadn't ever told her sister. Luna had showed up in support, but when she found out, the look on her face… and then the cameras went dead, apparently the night Princess had an explosive fit of uncontrolled magic. Now Celestia had locked herself somewhere in the castle, or Luna had locked her there, it was under debate—and they were not on speaking terms. Cadence had an excuse for why she was needed in the Crystal Empire. Who was running the show now anyway?

With the lull in royal drama, reporters now wondered endlessly about the brilliant beam across their sky, and of all things, whether or not they liked the rainbow. "Amid the celebration of the return of the land's magic, many public agencies are warning about the possible dangers of the new rainbow. Unlike an ordinary rainbow, this massive event appears to be self-sustaining, meaning it's here for good. Health agencies have cautioned that its magic is much different from an ordinary rainbow and they do not know the possible effects it could have on ponies. Reports are coming in that ponies may suffer psychological effects from simply looking at it."

The picture shifted to a sound bite of a tearful, starry-eyed colt, the only one on the network with half a smile, testifying, "I had a vision… so beautiful…"

It cut to a relative, or marefriend, worrying, "He's… changed since he looked at it… I'm scared we might not get him back."

A doctor in a white suit warned, "We're still investigating possible cases of hallucination, hypnosis, and the dependencies it could generate—like a drug."

"As reports stream in of Rainbow-induced cutie marks, parents fear if it is safe for their children."

"What if it's like the cutie pox or something?" asked a mother in a foil hat.

The reporter concluded the story by saying, "While some communities are gathering outside to welcome the new magic, authorities are instructing citizens to stay indoors, wear sunshades, and to contact their doctors immediately if they develop symptoms."

"You idiots," Dash scowled, "You better not look at it, it's too good for you." She changed the channel.

"Weather operations are on hold. After this outpouring of public outcry from across the nation, only one thing seems to matter. The entire structure of the factory will be dismantled and scattered. Even the plot of cloud it rests on is to be cut off from the city and made to dissipate. The idea is that there will be absolutely nothing left. We are about to bring you live coverage of the demolition at the end of the hour."

"Pssh, whatever!" Dash snarked, and shut off the TV. On one hoof she was glad to see it go—did they say "nothing left"? But the way they were doing it was like they wanted to sweep it back under the rug. Oh, sure, everyone was in such an outrage about the horrible murder factory, and the unspeakable monsters who made it.

"I call bullshit," she murmured. Everypony thought they were better, as if they weren't all part of it. Nobody was taking responsibility. How mad could they be about it, when they were ones who didn't want those foals. And it sure was convenient that everypony got to gripe about it—AFTER the magic crisis was solved. "If we still needed rainbows, you'd beg us to save your skins," Dash thought. Unfortunately, it didn't make her feel better that everyone else sucked.

The crying of an infant foal came plaintively from the other room. Dash had flown to the baby's side before she even knew what she was doing. The little cream colored foal, the one from the incubator room, was nestled in a cocoon of blankets on her bed. She picked him up and cradled him in her arms. Dash didn't know what had come over her, but on a sudden impulse she had taken him home from the lab. She had cared for him in secret for the past 24 hours.

"It's okay. I'm here, I'm here," she cooed, and gently rocked the little filly in her arms. To think that two days ago this foal was a neophyte in a test tube. "You're not a neophyte, you're a foal. Neophytes don't exist. You're a sweet little foal now, and you always were."

She swayed the tiny pegasus back and forth for a long time. She brushed aside his deep blue mane to gaze longingly at his soft small face. The baby calmed and looked up at her happily. "Don't smile at me," Dash said, still in an encouraging voice. She almost felt like Yeshua had given this little one to her as a gift, such a precious gift, but after what she had done with her last gift…

"What am I doing? I'm not your mama." She hung her head and cried. "Why do I feel like I need you?" she sobbed. "This is crazy. I shouldn't be anybody's mama."

What would happen to them, she wondered. How could she go on, what would she do now? Would they even let someone like her keep a foal? "You deserve better," Dash said, and rested the filly back into the blankets. Maybe the mother would show up for her baby.

Now that the rainbow factory was exposed and Dash couldn't live a normal life, maybe she didn't have a purpose any more. Certainly the Wonderbolts don't take child murderers, so goodbye dreams. And she shouldn't have any hopes or dreams, she shouldn't have any friends, not after what she did.

Maybe, she thought, she should fly away and exile herself, and fly out over the ocean until she exhausted herself. But she never did like long waits. "If you want something done, go ahead and do it," that's what she always said.

She thought of the flagpole in the big stadium. I could fly way up high, and come straight down so fast on it that it… She pictured an olive on a toothpick.

It would probably make some kind of statement—a correct one, too—and one that couldn't be ignored. She hoped her blood would be bright red, real red. That was probably the only real color left in her. She had poured out the color from so many ponies, and now it would finally be her turn.

There was a knock at the door. Dash froze. Hopefully they would go away if she waited. There was a pause, and more knocks.

"Dash, it's me," Twilight's voice came through the door.

Dash felt an irrational terror shoot through her spine. She hadn't talked to her friends since… But they had just now found out, of course, like the rest of the world. She had dreaded this moment for a long time.

"It's me, Twilight," her old friend said persistently. "Can we talk?"

Dash winced. If only she could have opened the door to Twilight and had this conversation years ago. It was really too late. Twilight is such a good person, she doesn't need a friend like me.

Dash picked up her grey Factory jacket from the corner where she had thrown it in disgust, and slipped it on. The little filly started crying again, probably because of the commotion. "Wait here for aunt Twilight," Dash whispered. "She doesn't need to see me, but I'm glad you will see each other."

"Dash! Dash?" Twilight pleaded. "I know about what happened. I just want to talk."

To Dash it just seemed like there was nothing to talk about. There was nothing she could say, nothing would be enough, nothing would really mean anything coming from herself… except for one statement, a final statement. Surely Twilight would understand that.

The voice came through the door again, but lower this time, and unsure. "… Is that what happened to Scootaloo? …"

Dash's chest tightened up too much for her to answer.

"I'm so sorry…" Twilight started to say, but Dash had already bolted away, smashing through a window on her way out. Twilight yelled, "Wait!" and the police echoed the sentiment, but the champion flyer had already disappeared. She dove under the cloud layer and swerved sharply, powering in a new direction to escape if anypony was pursuing her. They may as well have pursued her, she wished she could fly fast enough to outrun the glances of the locals as she whizzed by. She took a turn, darted through some buildings, and took another turn, swerving about frantically.

She didn't know where she was going, so she ended up where she always did—the Rainbow Factory. Oddly enough, no one would think to look for her there. As she looked at it, she felt strangely drawn to the place. To think what it would look like empty, quiet, desolate… it seemed like where she belonged.

To her eyes, the gaping hole in the roof was beautiful. From within the structure, metal glinted, reflecting the colors of the great rainbow above her, but she still couldn't bear to look directly at it. It was life and light and love, and everything she didn't deserve. She had wanted to be the best, but she was the worst.

There was a construction crew around the crippled factory. They had gathered to destroy it in hopes of wiping away Cloudsdale's public disgrace. It fit. It was the only right answer. She had become synonymous with the factory, and if they could get rid of both at once, so much the better. She would go down with the ship.

She stalked around the perimeter, looking for an opening. They had already separated the facility from the larger Weather Factory complex so that it wouldn't damage any other buildings when they took it down. The ominous cloudcrete structure was now perched implausibly on a small island of cloud that could barely support its weight. She waited a minute, unsure if she could cross the gap without being spotted.

The demolition crew was withdrawing from the building. That meant there would be no one else inside, and that it would happen soon. Good. The foreman barked an order and all eyes were averted for a moment. That split second was all she needed to dart in unnoticed.