The Cirrus, Lower Decks, Equestria
16 Years before the Shadowbolt/Wonderbolt War

Rat kept close to Descent as they moved along the lower corridors of the Cirrus, noting that the lights were dimmer in this section. They’d stopped briefly by the detention block, which was smaller than Rat thought it would be, with only fifty cells and five interrogation rooms. However, when Rat thought about it, it did make sense, since the Shadowbolts didn’t seem likely to take prisoners unless the contract called for it.

Rat looked back to check up on Cloak and Dagger. Since Descent showed up, the twins had apparently decided to hold back and let the dark grey stallion lead. Rat then looked back at Descent, who had remained silent except brief explanations of various rooms. Rat could see a number of small scars on the stallion’s body as the older stallion stared calmly down the corridor. Finally, Rat couldn’t bear the silence any longer. Besides, there was one thing that had been mentioned a couple of times now, and the pony who was supposed to explain it was walking beside him.

“Sir, what is the Shadowbolt Code?” asked Rat.

Descent turned to frown slightly at the colt. “You’ve heard of it already,” stated Descent. “That’s unsurprising, considering your personality and ability. Honestly, I was expecting questions from you far earlier.”

“Sorry, sir,” apologized Rat.

“First off, call me ‘Descent’ or, if you must use an honorific title, ‘Mentor’,” chided Descent. “You’ll understand why in a short while.”

“Yes s- Mentor,” replied Rat, catching himself before he misspoke again.

“To answer your question, the Code is simple in its wording,” explained Descent, “yet difficult to fully comprehend. ‘The Strongest Leads. A Contract is Completed Without Question Once Taken. The Shadows Must Stay Out of the Light.’”

“So rank is determined by strength?” asked Rat.

“‘Rank’ does not exist outside of Dante’s position,” corrected Descent. “A mission will have a ‘leader’, but any Shadowbolt with experience can take that role. It is up to the rest to trust the judgement and experience of their wingmate to not get them killed.”

“And contracts are always completed even if it means the entire team dies in the process?” asked Rat.

“Even then,” confirmed Descent. “And without question or hesitation. If a Shadowbolt is led to inaction by wondering about the ‘why’ of a contract, it puts all of the team at risk.”

“Is that last part about the secrecy Razor mentioned?” asked Rat.

“Yes, and it is arguably one of our most important tenets,” replied Descent. “No matter how many contracts are completed, no matter how much wealth is earned, it all crumbles to ash if the Shadowbolts are exposed to the public eye.”

“So how do the Shadowbolts get contracts if no one knows they exist?” asked Rat, utterly confused.

“Dagger mentioned our non-flying infiltrator members, did she not?” asked Descent.

“Yes, I remember,” replied Rat.

“They act as hard links to the criminal underworlds of cities across Equestria and beyond,” explained Descent. “When a contract is posted among the criminal elite, it gets sent to us first for a 1% finder’s fee. If we take it, the contacts are payed by our infiltrators, and the contract never hits the underworld. Dante will then receive the contact information for the client via sealed courier note and will gather the details. Otherwise, the contract goes to whatever lawless scum is willing to take it.”

“You can’t possibly receive all of your contracts like that,” mused Rat.

“You are correct,” replied Descent. “There are a select few who know how to contact the Shadowbolts directly. Only Dante knows who they are, and they provide the bulk of our financial resources.”

“Then why bother with smaller contracts?” asked Rat.

“Because the cost of keeping the Cirrus flying prohibits that,” answered Descent. “And now you will see why.”

With that, Descent opened a door to the Engine Room. The air here was warmer, tinged with the acrid smell of metal, ozone, and fumes. A variety of generators and engines of various types were being used to generate the thrust needed to drive the propellers. Teams of pegasi worked diligently to keep the machines running, keeping the mechanical heartbeat of the Cirrus in full working order. What surprised Rat was the presence of a full workshop where a variety of tools, weapons, and equipment were being fashioned and maintained. Cloak strolled up with a very goofy grin on his face.

“Greetings, Eggheads!” yelled Cloak. “We mean you no harm! We are merely showing our newest recruit the whole ship! We will be on our way when we’ve concluded here! Do not be alarmed!”

This outburst was met with a mix of scowls and exasperated chuckles. One of the engineers, a lime-green stallion with a dark green mane, lifted his goggles from his face and shouted back at Cloak.

“Just because you can’t tell a piston from a pressure gauge doesn’t mean we’re a completely alien species, Cloak,” quipped the engineer.

“And we thank you for being able to do so, Gremlin!” shot back Cloak. “I don’t suppose the Lunatic is around?”

“Our mentor is back in his lab,” huffed a nearby mare. “And I wish you’d stop calling him that. He’s really quite rational. He’s just… focused.”

“Betting you wish he was a bit more focused on you, eh Clover?” teased Cloak, to which the green coated mare turned as red as her mane.

“Enough,” commanded Descent, as Dagger once again smacked her brother in the back of the head. “Rat, meet Gremlin and Clover. They are apprenticed here in the Engineering group, which keeps the Cirrus flying in addition to providing technical support in the field.”

“Good to meet you, Rat,” greeted Gremlin. “Got any questions about our beloved vessel?”

“How are we being kept aloft right now?” asked Rat.

“Our primary propulsion system relies on steam powered turbines that rely on a mix of fuels including coal, wood, and kerosene,” explained Gremlin. “However, we’ve recently been attempting to utilize direct combustion propulsion with engines powered by methane.”

“Methane?” asked Rat. “What’s that?”

“It’s a highly combustible gas released from decomposing organic material,” explained Clover. “Our current source is… well, our sewage system and organic waste disposal. The upside of this is that we never need to take in fuel for them, and we hope to one day be entirely self-sufficient.”

“How do you get water for the boilers and other things?” asked Rat.

“We’ll pull it in by condensing clouds, which goes to things like the showers and kitchens,” explained Gremlin. “After it’s been used there, we’ll filter it for use in the boilers down here. The resulting steam clouds are then recaptured to be condensed again.”

“What about electric power for the lights and things?” asked Rat.

“We run a number of generators off of the drive shafts for our main propellers,” explained Clover.

The two engineers broke off their explanations as they were interrupted by harsh snores. Cloak was lying on his back on a nearby workbench, fast asleep. All the engineers in the compartment were giving the young stallion severe glares that could make a minotaur flinch. Dagger sighed, preparing to march over to her brother and wake him with carefully applied violence. Clover stopped her, instead motioning for her to wait and allow the engineers to handle this. Gremlin picked up on the plan quickly, turning to speak to one of the head engineers. The bright red stallion smirked and lowered an intercom.

“ALL HANDS PREPARE FOR EMERGENCY BRAKING MANEUVERS!” bellowed the engineer.

Everyone in the compartment braced themselves against something while Cloak snored on, oblivious to his impending disaster. The ship lurched suddenly, rotating a complete half-turn before lurching to a standstill. Cloak seemed to spin on the workbench before being launched airborne into a steel bulkhead. Cloak’s curses were almost completely drowned out by the laughter that filled the compartment. The engineer casually lowered the intercom, smirking silently.

“Emergency braking test complete,” stated the engineer. “All hands may return to stations.”

Cloak stood up and walked back to the group, grumbling.

“Very funny, guys,” muttered Cloak. “You didn’t have to send me flying, though.”

“Actually, you remained relatively stationary,” explained Gremlin. “It was the ship that was moving underneath you.”

“Are ya trying to make my head burst?” complained Cloak. “If I wanted to hear techno-babble, I’d have gone to see the Lunatic.”

“I asked you to stop calling him that!” objected Clover.

“Enough,” interrupted Descent. “Let us move on.”

Rat followed the twins and Descent as they left the engineering bay, following them back up the stairs they came from. Suddenly, Descent stopped and turned to address Rat.

“Your tour is complete,” stated Descent. “I’ll escort you to your quarters now. You two are dismissed.”

“Catch ya later, Rat!” exclaimed Cloak, slapping him jovially on the back before flying down the hall.

“I look forward to working with you in the future,” stated Dagger plainly.

Dagger then moved in the opposite direction, heading toward what Rat remembered to be the medical bay.

“Those two are a bit odd,” observed Rat.

“Considering what happened to them, it isn’t all that surprising,” replied Descent, moving toward what Rat presumed was the barracks.

“What do you mean?” asked Rat.

“Almost every Shadowbolt here has a tragic tale in their lives before coming here,” explained Descent. “The twins were unfortunate to live in one of the colonies on the border between Equestria and the Griffon Kingdom.”

“Why was that unfortunate?” asked Rat, confused.

“How much do you know much about the history of the Griffons and the Drakes?” asked Descent.

“Practically nothing,” admitted Rat.

“I feared as much,” replied Descent. “To be brief, the two nations have been fighting essentially since they first met. About six years ago, a Drake raiding party managed to carve a blood-soaked path through the Griffon Kingdom all the way to the Equestrian border. I’m sure you can guess where they met the border.”

Rat paled at the thought, shuddering slightly before Descent continued.

“Two battle groups of Sky Wings struck the Drakes in the middle of the night. The battle was fierce, but brief. It was at that point that the Drakes made a desperation-fueled last effort by flying toward the colony, threatening to burn it if the Griffons did not back down. The Sky Wings, of course, did not yield.

“The entire colony burned,” continued Descent, unflinchingly. “Trapped beneath the debris next to their parents’ lifeless bodies, the twins waited for hours after the battle ended. When Razor found them hours later, Dagger was as silent and emotionless as you see her now, and Cloak was as flippant and carefree.”

“How did that happen?” asked Rat. “Why did they turn out like that?”

“I’ve never asked,” replied Descent. “Honestly, you eventually stop asking those kinds of questions after a certain point.”

“Why’s that?” asked Rat.

“Because you come to realize that this is your life now,” explained Descent. “Whatever pony you were before coming here died the moment your hooves touched the deck of the Cirrus. Most don’t realize it immediately, and for some it takes several months to recognize, but eventually it all becomes clear. The Cirrus is your home. Your wingmates are your family. You are a Shadowbolt.”

As Descent spoke, Rat finally felt that he’d seen genuine emotion from the dark grey stallion. The pride in his mentor’s voice spoke volumes to the young colt. This wasn’t the same sort of grandstanding that Overseer Elysium practiced when making his grand speeches. This was pure and steadfast loyalty to a set of principles that stretched far beyond Descent in this moment. It was one of the most pure expressions of loyalty that Rat had ever seen.

Descent turned suddenly, opening a nearby hatch. Rat blinked in surprise, not noticing that they had arrived at their destination. Inside, eight sets of bunk beds with high guard rails and what appeared to be crash harnesses were welded to the floor in rows of four. The storage lockers were once again welded to the floor, being positioned along the walls of the room. Descent glanced down at his charge.

“Here is where you’ll be staying,” explained Descent. “Your locker and bunk will have your name on them. In your locker, I have placed a selection of books you’ll be reading over the next few months, as well as a reading schedule. Memorize your assignment for tomorrow, and then get plenty of rest. We’ll be having our first training session in Training Room 45 at first light. Around here, that’s about 5:00 AM on the dot. Ten wing-ups for every minute you are late.”

And with that, Descent left without another word. Rat moved over to look out the window. Outside the Cirrus, an uninterrupted sea of clouds flowed as far as the eye could see, the last rays of sunlight turning them orange and gold. Rat couldn’t help but smile. He knew this life would be incredibly difficult from now on. He knew that there would be days where he would feel as though his body and soul couldn’t take any more abuse, and he’d still press forward. All this would come later. For in this moment, in that poorly-lit space with steel walls with only a tiny window, Rat finally felt free.

Green Pastures, Southern Residential District, Equestria
50 Years after the Shadowbolt/Wonderbolt War

Cloak sighed as his story drew to a close. Daylight had been absent for a number of hours now, and the hour grew later still as crickets and cicadas sang beneath the glow of the rising moon. The colts had sat with rapt attention through the story, even though they were betrayed by the occasional yawn.

“You’re stopping now?!” protested Kingfisher with an indignant yawn. “You can’t do that! What happens next?! Did Rat finish his training and become a Shadowbolt? What about Dante? What happened to him? And what about Nightshade and the crystals? You can’t just leave it like that!”

“Yeah, Grandpa!” agreed Cold Snap, bleary-eyed exasperation punctuating his protest. “The story can’t be finished there!”

“You’re right, the story isn’t finished,” replied Cloak with a chuckle. “We can return to the rest of it at another time.

“However,” added Cloak, his expression becoming stern, “the story was not the point of this gathering, now was it?”

Both colts glanced sheepishly at their hooves as the adults frowned sternly at the two of them. Kingfisher looked at his bruises and then at Cold Snap’s. In the excitement of the story, both colts had completely forgotten their earlier fight, which seemed utterly ridiculous now. The blue colt spoke up first.

“I’m sorry, ‘Snap,” apologized Kingfisher. “I was wrong about the Shadowbolts.”

“No, you were right,” protested Cold Snap. “I was just being an idiot-”

“You were both being idiots,” interrupted Dagger.

Everyone turned to look at the older mare in shock. While she was known for her harsh tongue, the two colts and their parents couldn’t help but stare in shock at her bluntness.

“Did a hoof to the face solve your argument?” asked Dagger. “Did wrenching wings solve it?”

The colts shook their heads guiltily as Dagger continued.

“No, they didn’t,” confirmed Dagger. “Do you know what did?”

Both colts frowned in confusion. They shook their heads again, unsure of where Dagger was going with this.

“You listened,” explained Dagger. “You thought. You found answers. And you know how you did that? You used your head, not your hooves. Fighting never gives answers. Trust me, I’ve had years of fighting across several continents to prove that.”

“Dagger’s right,” interjected Cloak. “You don’t win fights. You only survive them. You’ve already lost the moment you choose to fight, because someone always loses.

“But enough of that,” yawned Cloak. “We’ll leave the judgement to your parents. It’s late, and a school night. I suggest we all turn in.”

With that, the older stallion stood up and entered the house, followed shortly by his sister and brother-in-law. As they moved, they unconsciously fell into a formation, probably ingrained in their minds after decades of combat. However, what stood out to the two families present was that none of the older pegasi took the lead position in that formation. It remained vacant, as if it never occurred to any of them to take that place. In his mind’s eye, Cold Snap could picture the pony that filled that position so consistently that his colleagues would subconsciously defer it to him. How did that scrawny young thief become that leader, able to inspire such awe and loyalty among his peers?

To be continued…
End of Act 1

Author's Notes:

Jeez, that took way longer than I thought it would. Writer's block really sucks.
But anyhow, WE'VE FINISHED ACT 1! And since I'm now on Fall Break, I should be able to work on the next chapters without too much trouble. There will now be a five year time jump in the flashback part of the story. While I'm already 900 words into Chapter 5, I anticipate that it will probably be my longest chapter yet, so it could take some time to write.

Anyhow, hope you've enjoyed this one!