Flashpoint shared his sympathies regarding the Urban Assault Teams. He and Red Field met for breakfast, as Flashpoint had more meetings in the afternoon.

“I spent a week with them advising about magic entrapments and their prevalence around Equestria.” Flashpoint shook his head. “They put my office chair on the roof for my last day.” Red Field countered Flashpoint’s knight with his bishop. “I must confess I did not experience the professional aspect of their ‘professional commandos’ title.” Flashpoint said, rescinding his move.

“I feel a little disappointed.” Red Field said. “I understand they’re used to soldiering and such, but-”

“Well it is all we employ them to do.” Flashpoint said, offering his rook instead. “I just dislike interaction with them. I don’t feel it reflects poorly on them though.” They played a few more moves and Red Field decided to suggest they discuss his first year at the Academy of Advanced Magic.

“Would you mind helping me pick out my first classes?” He asked. “I’d like to test out of as many of my generals as I can.”
“After this move.” Flashpoint said, making a mediocre push with a pawn. Red Field blocked the pawn and dismantled the attack with his knight.

Flashpoint pulled a folder out of his desk drawer. He set it atop his desk and flipped it open.

“You said you’re thinking of pursuing a degree in Alchemic Science?” He asked.

“Yes sir.”

“What particular degree?” Asked Flashpoint.

“Uh.” Red Field had never known of multiple studies of alchemy. “I don’t know, I’ve always just assumed there was only one option.” Flashpoint shook his head as he walked back to the table.

“The Academy offers seven total, but only two are really what you’d want. Ethics of Alchemic Science and Historical Alchemy really aren’t related to the modern field.” He set the file before Red Field. “Look through those first, then we can start reviewing your options.”

Red Field read the list. He read it twelve times. He spent a quarter of an hour reading, thinking, and rereading the options before him. The words weren’t esoteric, or even exotic, yet they excited him like nothing ever had or would. Before him lay futures, careers and lives that all demanded his intellect. His dream world grew into a dream universe.

“Raw Alchemy, preferably research.” He said, his heart racing at the thought of researching the means to transform the most basic of matter. Flashpoint was studying the board and he looked up.

“Oh.” He sounded surprised and a little impressed. “You’re planning on pursuing a doctorate?” A doctorate. Rockvale had never imbued such a dream in him and Red Field stood stunned for a few moments.

“Well, I have to confess I’ve never really thought about it.” He said. “But I would certainly say it appeals to me.” He smiled. “Put me down for a Ph.D.”

“Well, that comes after your undergraduate degree and some entrance exams and such.” Flashpoint said with a polite smile. “Let’s just focus on your first year.”

“Of course, I’m sorry, I’m just excited.” He said.

“Well, I can’t blame you,” Flashpoint said, “I think somepony as smart as you ought to be very excited about their education.”

They discussed book purchases and rentals for the remainder of their time. Flashpoint said he’d pull some books out of his storage when he got the chance. He gave Red Field the file and told him to give his degree more thought. They both agreed that a college degree was one of the most overlooked and under-thought of all life choices. Before he left, Red Field thanked Flashpoint. He thanked Flashpoint for being his friend, for being a glimmer of hope in the rough life at Gale Force.

“Well, I’d like to thank you Red Field. You are certainly a pony I can relate to and I’m glad to offer my services in assisting you in your college aspirations. You’re also a damn fine chess player as well as a good conversationalist.” They both laughed nervously, unused to complimenting others so heavily.

“Well, thank you.” Red Field said. “I will do some reading and learn more about my prospective future.”

“Excellent, I’m certain you’ll find the right degree.” Flashpoint said.

So was Red Field. He read the list of alchemy degrees six more times on the way to the tailor. He sat in the waiting area, weighing the merits of a degree in Industrial Alchemy against those of one in Scholastic Alchemy.

“Hey, I said your shit’s done.” The clerk held his CCUs over the counter. Red Field set his file down. Next to his name, embroidered in the same camo tone as the rest of the garment was the word “UAT”. Red Field felt a small swell of pride, nowhere near that resulting from his hopes for a degree in alchemy, as he picked up the jacket. “Free of charge, some old guy came in here and paid for it.” Said the clerk. Red Field smiled to himself and thanked the clerk.

“Hey, you want this other thing?” Asked the pony. Red Field looked back. “This is like your gorilla suit or whatever right?” The pony dropped a furry bundle on the counter. “Old guy had it cleaned too.” The pony clucked his tongue as Red Field picked it up. “So is that what you’re going to be wearing during the game?”

“Yes.” He said.

“Best of luck to ya.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” He donned his CCU’s, slung his ghillie suit over his back, and returned to reading the list of degrees. He read it a few more times as he walked back to the barracks.

Full Wing could now stand and walk with ease and he was pacing up and down the middle of the barracks when Red Field returned.

“Oh hey Red!” He said. “Do you want to take a walk with me?”

“Sure.” Red Field set the book on the philosophy of magic back on his bed. “Just let me put my stuff away.” He said, sliding his ghillie suit under his bunk.

“Oh yeah yeah, that’s fine.” Full Wing said. “Thanks by the way, I’ve been cooped up in here so long and I really want to get out.”

Full Wing led Red Field along the fence, behind the mass of barracks. The skies had slowly darkened over the past few days, and the impending storm hung over the camp.

“I don’t want to walk through the middle area ‘cause I don’t want everypony staring at my bandage.” Full Wing said. “Still feel kinda like a loser for getting hit by that chariot.”

“You aren’t to blame.”

“I don’t see a lot of other Pegasi getting hit by chariots.” Full Wing said. They walked down the fence, toward the southern gate. “I talked to the guy who owns Maremont or whatever and he said I could probably get a job cleaning up at the end of the day.”

“Oh.” Red Field looked over at Full Wing to see how he perceived such a mediocre job. Full Wing looked to Red Field with the same expression. What would Full Wing need to hear to recover his hope?

“Yeah I dunno.” Said Full Wing. “I could probably do that, but like, why would I want to?”

“You know, it’s not always about getting right to your place. Sometimes you have to wait until it presents itself.” Red Field said. “I mean, Siplinski wants to be an electrician but he’s here so he can get a scholarship.”

“I dunno if I’m really cut out for that.”

“Well it doesn’t have to be college necessarily.” Red Field said. “I just mean that it isn’t a bad thing if you have to take a shitty job while you look for where you want to be.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Said Full Wing, kicking at the gravel beneath his hooves. “That book you and Sip are reading isn’t too hard.” He looked up at Red Field guiltily. “I’m sorry, I pretty much ransacked the whole barracks looking for stuff to read over the past few weeks. I was just so bored. I even found Black Rain’s porn stash.” Red Field couldn’t help but laugh and Full Wing broke into a coltish smile too.

“So what’d you think of the textbook?” Red Field asked as they reached the gate.

“I dunno, I read it like twice since I had literally nothing to do. It was pretty easy to figure out the second time through.”

“Well look at that.” Red Field said, giving Full Wing a gentle push. “You’re as smart as Siplinski, don’t write off your future so quickly.”

“Thanks Red, it means a lot. Could you do me a favor?”

“Yeah, anything.” Red Field said.

“Could you like, I guess, look for posts for me?” He asked. “Like I don’t want to ask Bren or Sip. They’ll probably just say I should take the job at Maremont. I know you know like everything, so if there’s some place that could use somepony like me, I figured you’d know it.”

“Absolutely.” Red Field said. “I’ll ask Flashpoint when I see him tonight.”

“Thanks so much dude.” He gave Red Field a hug. “Like I’m not gay or anything. I just have never had a friend like you.”

“I’ve never had one like you Full.” Red Field said, hugging Full Wing back.

Red Field returned to Flashpoint’s quarters after dinner. The question of Full Wing’s prospects came up as Red Field and Flashpoint filled out Red Field’s first few pages of applications. The forms were mostly legal and pertained to his scholarship from Gale Force. Flashpoint pushed each page to Red Field when it came time to sign. Red Field asked about any meaningful posts that would appeal to Full Wing.

“Well I suppose that would depend on the qualifications for ‘meaningful post’ wouldn’t it?” Flashpoint said as he copied Red Field’s ID number onto a page.

“Heh, yes, I suppose that should be a consideration.” Red Field said.

“Well I think he’s like anypony: he would like his talents utilized and to feel like he has some importance.” Flashpoint flipped a page and began to fill out the opposite side. “And if he passed Beast and has made it thus far without any serious disciplinary actions then I imagine we could find a position for him.” He pushed a page to Red Field. “Sign at the top, then write his name down on a sticky note and I’ll pull his file.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it a lot.” Red Field said.

“No problem, one of my responsibilities here is ‘post and specialty advisor’ which is essentially a militarized guidance counselor.” He set his pen down and took a sip from the water bottle beside his desk. “Have you had a chance to look over the list of degrees?”

“Yes.” Red Field said. “I would like to pursue a degree in Raw Alchemy- I would like to go into research and therefore obtain my Ph.D.” He paused. “Of course, it’ll all be subject to change once I get to the Academy, I hear that happens a lot at college.” The last portion of the sentence, a joke, felt flat to him and he laughed congenially.

“Yes, well.” Flashpoint said. “All we need right now is an undergraduate.” He picked up a form and began to write “Raw Alchemy” into a box. He pushed a few stapled pages to Red Field. “Those are the generals for all majors. Obviously you can test out of some, but I would advise you to think carefully about which ones you want to try to opt out of, as they are still very rigorous courses and the tests are not easy.” Red Field studied the page for a few minutes. He gave the page back to Flashpoint after picking those he felt he could opt from taking. Flashpoint set his pen down and Red Field watched as he read over the list.

“You certainly are, ambitious.” Said Flashpoint, inserting the pause as he read that Red Field assumed he could test out of basic magical theory. He circled one course. “I wonder if you might benefit from a sample of the course material for this.”

“Oh, certainly.” Said Red Field. Somepony knocked on the door.

“One moment please.” Flashpoint called to the pony as he tossed his pen onto the table.

“We’re short a few participants for the second wargame.” Said a lieutenant standing outside. “Lewerc doubled the number of officials earlier tonight and a few squads need reinforcing.”

“Oh.” Flashpoint had planned on opting out of the wargame and Red Field watched his shoulders slump. “Nopony else could cover for me?”

“No sir, sorry.”

“All right.” Flashpoint said with a sigh. “Which squad do I go to?”

“Squad eight is down to two members.”

“Great, thank you.” Flashpoint said shortly. He shut the door and turned back to Red Field. “Red I’m going to need to cut our time short tonight. I was not planning on participating in the game and I have quite a lot of paperwork to do now that I won’t have time during the wargame.”

“Oh, okay. That’s fine.” Red Field said, gathering up his papers. “Hope I don’t run into you out there.” He added with a smile. Flashpoint was pushing aside his college applications and set a few files on his desk.

“Give those courses another look, you might want to tone back how much you’re planning on skipping.” He said as he started to read an accident report from Beast.

“I will, thank you.” Red Field said. “Have a good night.”

The storm teetered over the base the day before the game.
Red Field awoke that morning in darkness. The barracks lay in a sleepy grey-black equilibrium. He walked to the door and looked out at the weather. The base sat under a sky filled with bloated and waiting rainclouds. Somepony stirred in their bed.

“Hey, what’s up Red?” Asked Siplinski, yawning and tossing off his blanket.

“Not much.” Red Field said, shutting the door on the lackluster morning.

“I got the day off.” Siplinski said, stretching his back. “I don’t even know what I want to do. Especially since I’m all done with my first textbook.” Siplinski had passed his last test with an 82, giving him a B minus for the course. “Maybe I’ll just spend the whole day in bed like Full.”

Full Wing lay on his side, snoring lightly.

“I’m sure Rain’s going to have everypony in bed early for the game.” Red Field said, returning to his bunk to put on his CCUs.

“Haha yeah.” Siplinski said. “Have you uh, thought any more about the spotter thing?”

“Yeah.” Red Field said. “I’m starting training with my team next week. That’s when I formally give my decision,” Red Field pulled on his uniform, “so far you’re the only candidate.”

“Awesome.” Siplinski hopped out of bed. “I gotta go get breakfast, do you want to come?”

“Sorry, I’m busy actually.” Red Field said.

“Oh okay, cool dude.” Siplinski gave him a thump on the shoulder. “See you tonight.”

The air was tight with pressure and the humidity from Macmillan forest looked to stay the entire day on account of the hovering storm clouds. Red Field grabbed an apple from the mess hall and went to the officers’ quarters. The door opened as Red Field went to knock and Flashpoint nearly walked into him. Flashpoint carried a satchel and his uniform was wrinkled.

“Oh, Red!” Flashpoint took a step back. “I am terribly sorry, I’ll have to curtail our meeting this morning, I’m swamped.”

“Oh it’s no trouble.” Red Field said. “I’ll come back later.”

“Well.” Flashpoint looked at his watch. “I have a few minutes, come in.”

“Oh, thank you, are you sure?” Red Field asked as he stepped inside.

“Yes of course; I think we were still kicking around the list of courses you wanted to test out of.” Flashpoint said.

“Yes.” Red Field gave him the list, which he’d checked several times. “This is my final list.”

“Oh.” Flashpoint saw that Red Field had not removed any classes. “If I may make a suggestion. These two classes are a bit tougher than you’d expect.” He circled two introductory magic courses. “You haven’t taken any magic classes before so it’d be good to familiarize yourself before-”

Somepony knocked at the door.

“Yo, Flash, we need you at Barracks Twelve.” Red Field recognized Agent Orange’s voice. “They’re having chain of command issues and you need to meet with them.”

“Sorry.” Flashpoint said to Red Field. “All right, I’ll be right out.” He called to Agent Orange. “We should still have time tonight to meet.” He said as he walked to the door. “Just give that list some more thought.”

Red Field did give the list more thought, though he’d already made his decision. He’d suffered too many long and pointless hours in Rockvale High, needlessly listening to a lecture on a subject he could easily teach himself for him to want to risk taking a class he could skip.

He went back and ate breakfast. The mess hall held a few other ponies and he listened to their conversations. They were talking about the game. One of them mentioned how Squad Thirteen had attempted to bribe Squads fifteen through twenty to focus their attacks on Squad Six. One of the ponies was bragging about how he’d flown into the camp on the same flight as Red Field. The other ponies all listened intently to his description of the quiet and unassuming little unicorn who went on to be a killer.

One of them mentioned that they needed to get their gear for the game and the group stood to leave. Red Field had forgotten that the second wargame took place with firearms converted to fire paint rounds and he followed the ponies outside. The group walked toward the squat factory of Maremont.

Inside the armory, the work stations and benches were lined up facing the door. The workers stood behind the row of desks and supplied rifles, as well as lengthy descriptions of the punishment meted out to anypony who misused their weapon, to the ponies who’d entered. Red Field walked up to the first bench. The pony behind the bench did not wait for him to speak.

The pony leaned back, grabbed a rifle from a stack and laid a KKAT with a blaze orange tip on the bench.

“You’ll get mags and ammo before the game.” Said the pony.

“Excuse me but I don’t think this is my rifle.” The pony was already looking around Red Field and at the next in line. “I’m a UAT sniper.”

“Speciality shit’s at the end of the line.” Said the pony, pointing to the very end of the row of benches. “Next!” Red Field walked down the row of benches. The last pony was checking a list and didn’t look up as Red Field approached.

“So what are you? Medic? Did anypony tell you what rifle you needed?” Asked the pony.

“I’m a sniper.” Red Field said. “Is there a longer-range training rifle?” The pony flipped through his list and squinted in thought before rifling through the rifles under his bench. He set a dirty plastic case before Red Field.

“We haven’t had a sniper in a wargame in a while,” said the pony, opening the case, “this is what we got.”

Inside the case lay a Maremont M63. The M63 was an obsolete rifle that Gale Force Company had replaced with the Kitty Kat at the first opportunity. Save for the extra four inches of barrel, the M63 could not be said to be more of a “precision” weapon than the KKAT.

“Probably need a scope or something,” said the pony, “let me get my supervisor and see what there is around here.” He went to the office of the shop. Red Field looked down at the archaic rifle. The flash hider was orange both from paint and rust. He couldn’t recall if the M63 even had a chromed bore. The only “precision” aspect about the gun was the elongated barrel, which only affected muzzle velocity and didn’t make it any more accurate than a Kitty Kat. If the gun was as old as it looked, its rifling might be gone from firing.

How had such a piece of shit gotten catalogued as a sniper’s training rifle?

“Well then.” Agent Orange stood behind the desk now. “I hear our resident sniper needs a sniper rifle for the big game.” Agent Orange set a small cardboard box on top of the rifle. “Think I have something here.” He opened the box and lifted out a narrow black scope. “How about that?”

The scope had a plain duplex reticule and the glass bore a filthy brown tint. The tube felt like it was made of aluminum and the rear lens had a small scratch along the outer edge. Given the eye relief and fixed 3 power magnification, the scope was clearly a scout scope. The scope was also clearly a piece of trash.

“Oh don’t worry, it comes with mounts.” Agent Orange flipped the box over and two rusty clamps spilled onto the old rifle. Even the pony who’d summoned Agent Orange was nonplussed by the terrible combination. Agent Orange pushed the rifle forward and Red Field had to keep it from falling from the bench. “See you tomorrow.” Said Agent Orange, turning and walking back to the office.

“Sorry, that sucks.” Said the pony across from him. Red Field tried returning to the front of the line to ask for a KKAT, but the workers had already marked him for the M63. He left the workshop with the M63 and the pathetic scope.

He sat atop his bunk, clicking the adjustment knobs of the scope. He’d taken the rifle to Site and the two had spent a few hours attempting to recover the quality of the old gun. They’d mounted the scope, then Site had tuned the trigger, removed the old flash hider and recrowned the barrel. He also gave Red Field a compact suppressor.

“How do you know where it’s zeroed?” Asked Full Wing, who sat on the bunk across from Red Field.

“I don’t.” Said Red Field. “I’m trying to find the maximum adjustments for the scope, then I’ll set it to the middle so I’m as close as possible.”

“You’re shooting these?” Full Wing asked, picking up the box of paint rounds Site had given Red Field.

“Yeah.” Red Field said. Full Wing opened the box and removed a round. The casing was shiny aluminum and the bullet was a blunt shank of rubber filled with paint. “Max range is a hundred and fifty meters.” Red Field said, setting the elevation on the scope.

“That’s not that far.” Full Wing said. “How are you going to snipe?”

“No idea.” Red Field said, setting the windage to the center. Full Wing set the box of cartridges on Red Field’s bed.

“Are you nervous about tomorrow?” Full Wing asked.

“This thing is a piece of shit, and Squad Thirteen outnumbers us three to one and it’s likely they’ve cheated in some way. It’s not a fair fight to begin with.” Said Red Field.

“That’s why you’re supposed to pull the upset.” Said Full Wing.

“That’s the plan.” Red Field said with a sigh.

“Have you and your friend talked at all about a post for me?”

“Not yet, but tonight I’ll make sure.”

“Red, do you have your shit?” Black Rain entered the barracks carrying a bandoleer of ammo and a rifle.

“Uh, you mean my rifle?” Asked Red Field.

“Yeah.” Black Rain tossed his gun onto his bed. “You gotta pick up your rifle for the game.” He saw the M63. “What the shit is that?” He grabbed the rifle from Red Field. “What the hell?” He peered down the scope then looked back at Red Field. “Who the fuck gave this to you?” Red Field had barely finished Agent Orange’s name when Black Rain tossed the rifle. It nearly landed on the cheap scope but Red Field managed to catch the gun before it hit the ground. “Fuck that motherfucker, I knew he’d pull some shit like this. Red, with me, we’re going back there and getting you a real Goddamn rifle.”

Red Field trailed behind Black Rain, who marched for the doors of Maremont with a tightly focused rage. Red Field disliked the rifle, and Agent Orange, but he certainly didn’t feel as upset as Black Rain.
Maremont was nearly empty when they arrived. Black Rain pushed aside two of the benches and made his way through the work floor.

“Rain, need something?” Agent Orange and a few other ponies crowded around the door to the office.

“The hell I do.” Black Rain said. The other ponies around Agent Orange were members of Squad Thirteen. They stiffened, as if ready for a fight, as Black Rain approached them. “What the fuck is this?” He thrust the M63 toward Agent Orange. “You call this a fucking sniper’s rifle?”

“What do you want me to do? Requisition a DMR from the armory to convert over to sim fire?” Agent Orange didn’t try to hide his smile. “Come on now Rain, I can’t give your little sniper the latest and greatest rifle out there. It’s what we had.” He took the rifle and chuckled. “I agree it’s old and shitty.” Red Field knew Agent Orange had been hoping for such a confrontation. “But we can’t just give him a whole new rifle, that wouldn’t be fair to the other players.”

“Bullshit.” Black Rain tore the rifle from Agent Orange’s grip.

“Hey what’s the matter?” Shadow Wings had been standing behind the other ponies of Squad Thirteen. “Can’t you shoot good without all your shiny toys?” He asked Red Field.

“Shut up you little prick.” Black Rain said.

“He brings up a good point.” Agent Orange said. “This game is about testing the soldier, not the weapon.”

“Oh bullshit-” Black Rain cocked his head and peered into the office door. “Wait, what the fuck?” He pushed aside two of the ponies and went inside. Ten plastic cases, each the size of a toaster, were stacked atop the desk. “What are these?” He started to open one and Agent Orange pulled the case away.

“Don’t touch that.” Agent Orange said. Red Field grabbed one of the cases with his horn and snapped it open. Inside the case laid a black optic contained within cut foam. The aluminum of the futuristic sight still bore the slick sheen of preservative oil.

“Holosights?” Black Rain asked. “Where the hell did you get these?”

“We’re phasing out the red dots over the course of the next year and we’re running some tests on these, this game is one of those tests.” Said Agent Orange.

“Nopony else has these.” Said Red Field.

“They only supplied ten, my squad and I will be testing them.” Said Agent Orange. Black Rain moved toward him.

“Are you kidding me?”

“Sergeant, I should remind you that I outrank you. I don’t want to have to take you out of tomorrow’s game for berating me.” Said Agent Orange. Black Rain’s jaw clenched and his right fore hoof lifted off of the concrete.

“You’re an insecure pony, aren’t you?” Said Red Field. “You’re still stacking the odds and you have us outnumbered three to one. Even if you beat us, all you’re proving is that a larger force, with new equipment can beat a smaller force equipped with junk weapons.”

“And a sniper.” Said Agent Orange.

“I’m not trained to be a miracle worker and I train to use at least semi-modern weapons, not archaic pieces of shit.” Red Field wasn’t exceptionally mad at Squad Thirteen. He knew they were a bunch of insecure stallions who’d risk nothing. He felt sorry for Black Rain for trying to reason with them. “So if you beat us, then it was because you did everything in your power to make it an unfair fight, just like everypony thought you would.”

“Then you shouldn’t have bet against us dumbass.” Said Agent Orange. Black Rain looked back at Red Field. He looked at Red Field like he’d just been abandoned.

“My bet was made with the assumption you wouldn’t be a cheater.” Said Red Field.

“Looks like your sniper isn’t too confident in his ability Rain.” Called a member of Squad Thirteen.

“Don’t beg for mercy; we’ll make it painless but we won’t let up.” Said another.

“All right Red, let’s go.” Said Black Rain quietly.

“You’re the most insecure group of soldiers I’ve ever met.” Red Field said, wishing he hadn’t spoken at all.

“Yeah, and you’re all gonna die.” Shadow Wings called as the two ponies of Squad Six made their way to the door.

Black Rain didn’t say anything as they walked back to the barracks. They’d gotten back at 1700, but only Full Wing was around. Black Rain climbed into bed and folded his hooves over his body. Full Wing asked what had happened but Red Field said he’d explain later.

Bren arrived at the barracks in a few minutes, he was eating an apple.

“What’s going on?” He asked, spaying a mist of juice. “Are we turning in early tonight to rest up for the game?” Nopony answered and he swallowed. “Hello?”

“Red doesn’t think we can win.” Black Rain said. Bren paused, then looked over at Red Field.

“Red?” He asked. Red Field’s stomach turned.

“I said if they won-”

“Which is the same fucking thing as saying they will win.” Black Rain said. Bren looked from one to the other.

“I just said I’m not trained to be a miracle worker. They outnumber us and they gave me a shit gun and that’s probably only the start of the advantages they’ve created for themselves.” He said.

Bren scraped at the concrete floor with his hoof.

“Then why did you bet that you could beat them?” He asked.

Red Field’s watch responded for him. It beeped six times, alerting him to his next meeting with Flashpoint.

“I gotta go, I have a meeting with Flashpoint.” He said. “I’ll be back in like an hour or two.” He climbed off of the bunk. “Look, we’ll talk about this when I get back.” He said as he backed out of the door. He waited for a moment for Bren to reply.
He left after Bren said nothing.

He did want to beat Squad Thirteen. The massive, arrogant barracks irked him no less than it irked the rest of his squad; he agreed with his squad on everything. His newfound college plans must have been why he didn’t care as much as when he’d made the bet.

He’d try his best; it wasn’t like he’d decided to give up. Nothing had changed since when he’d made the bet. He was only saying something they all knew was true.

Red Field reached Flashpoint’s quarters and knocked on the door. He heard somepony scuffle to the door.

“Hello?” Flashpoint looked frazzled and his uniform had received a coffee stain. “Oh Red Field.” He sounded partially dismayed and partially relieved to see Red Field. “Come in, I need to run out in a few minutes but we should clear up your class schedule.” The small room was in the dirtiest state Red Field had seen it in. Files and books laid open on the coffee table and desk. About twenty colorful sticky notes were adhered to the walls and a few to the ceiling. “I apologize for the mess.” Said Flashpoint, clearing some papers from the couch so Red Field could sit. “I had three disciplinary hearings to attend, another four reprimands to issue- we usually see a spike in misconduct in the days leading up to the wargames. Then I had my normal workload and of course, had to get ready for the game.” He pointed to a training KKAT propped up against a bookshelf. “Your UAT transfer went through and I’ve been scrambling to get the necessary signatures for that. But your college plans take precedent over all of this, don’t let my distractedness convince you otherwise.” He said, digging through some papers.

“Oh, well I certainly appreciate your assistance.” Red Field said. “I have decided to keep the schedule I showed you and test out of-”

“Red you cannot.” Flashpoint was at his desk, stapling a form together, and he did not look back.

“Why?” Red Field asked.

“You do not have the necessary education to test out of any of those classes, especially the two magic classes.”

“Oh, yes, I should have mentioned.” Red Field said. “I thought we could continue meeting and you could tutor me in those subjects. I’m sorry if I didn’t mention that-”

“You did.” Flashpoint compared two reports before looking back at Red Field. “I’m not sure what relevance my tutelage has on your education.”

“Oh, well, I thought you could help me prepare for those tests.”

“Oh goodness no.” Flashpoint stared at Red Field. “I’m not certified in any capacity and I don’t have nearly enough of the materials here.”

“Well, I was thinking that with my aptitude for learning and whatever you can provide, I could learn what I need to at least pass.”

“No, not at all.” Flashpoint turned back to his work. “My aid is only cursory, and you are ignorant of far too many concepts in those classes to pass.” A part of Red Field felt hurt, though everything Flashpoint said seemed reasonable.

“I suppose you’re right.” Red Field said after a moment. “What classes do you think I should test out of?”

“I don’t know.” Flashpoint straightened a pile of papers and turned to Red Field. “Let me see the list.” Red Field gave him the list and Flashpoint took it to his desk. He hunched over it for a few moments before somepony knocked on the door.

“Lieutenant Flash.” Said the stallion on the opposite side of the door.

“What?” Flashpoint was on the verge of shouting and the pony outside the door paused.

“I was sent to inform you that Agent Orange has equipped his squad with the holographic weapons sights for use in the game tomorrow.” The pony sounded like he winced as he spoke and Flashpoint’s shoulders stiffened.

“Tell him they are experimental equipment and he is in no way authorized to use or otherwise handle them.” Said Flashpoint in a low voice.

“Sir, I think you should tell him. He seems very convinced.”

“All right, thank you.” Said Flashpoint. “I will deal with him as soon as possible.”

“Thank you sir.” Said the pony before galloping away.

“How that moron avoids court-martial I do not know.” Flashpoint turned and gave Red Field the paper. “You could probably get away with testing out of their general mathematics, the rest are courses you need to take.” He straightened his collar. “I’ll have to cut our time even shorter thanks to that imbecile and I am sorry.”

“You don’t think I can test out of any of these other ones?” Red Field asked.

“No.” Flashpoint said. “Frankly testing out of math is a bit ambitious but I think you could probably pass.” He noticed Red Field’s surprise. “Red Field, you’re a high school graduate. These are courses for high school graduates and they’ll suit you.”

“I know.” Red Field did know, but he knew he could test out of some. He pointed to one. “Freshman Composition- I already know how to cite and research and write.”

“They teach using the Royal Library, which uses a different reference system. Plus they go a little into the nature of persuasion and the relevant philosophy.” Flashpoint said.

“Well, those all sound like things I could learn outside of the class.” Red Field said.

“All right, fine, test out of it.” Flashpoint thrust the paper toward him. “Make your choices and I’ll fill out the paperwork. I need to go deal with Agent Orange.”

A smarter Red Field might have left it at that, might have attributed the terseness of the exchange to stress. But Red Field wanted to know, and it bothered him enough to find out right then and there.

“Flashpoint, don’t you think I can at least test out of some of these?" Asked Red Field. "Aren’t my scores in Beast, UAT training and all of our interactions enough to convince you?”

Flashpoint was midway out the door and he caught himself on the frame.

“Your scores in training are very impressive relative to the standard we set at Gale Force Academy. You are certainly a capable pony with a serious drive.” He paused. “Considering skipping all of your preparatory college courses is more egotistical than ambitious.” He hesitated. “I’m sorry, that was presumptuous to say the least. You’re a recent grad and I know you’re excited for academia.” He laughed a little. “To say it better: you’re not a prodigy, thus you need to take those classes.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, we can talk more then.”

Red Field wasn’t a prodigy, of course he knew he wasn’t. But he hurt. His mind lashed and struggled against an invisible pain, trying to find a thorn or barb to pull out and destroy.

He’d been foolish to try and skip so many classes; he simply hated hearing that he’d overestimated himself. His eyes stung. He’d pricked himself with the thorn. He looked down at the list. It wasn’t egotistical to think he could test out of introductory psychology.

Egotistical.

Flashpoint had chosen such an ugly and demeaning word. Why?

Red Field blinked and felt a tear run down his cheek. Flashpoint must have known how hurtful it sounded to call his friend’s aspirations egotistical instead of overambitious. Red Field traced the barb back to Flashpoint. He had known it would hurt Red Field, he’d been malicious to use that word.

Red Field looked at the quarters around him. He saw textbooks, dictionaries and notebooks. Flashpoint ought to be in school, but he’d been sent to Gale Force, allegedly by Luna. Red Field’s gaze fell on the chessboard, on the crooked and brain-dead advance the officer had set up.

Flashpoint wasn’t a prodigy either.

Agent Orange sought to stack the odds against the sniper he feared. Flashpoint had sought to knock out the self-confidence of an intellectual rival. Red Field blinked away some tears; Flashpoint was no more of a friend than Agent Orange. He crumpled up the page and threw it into the corner of the room.

He had proof of his intelligence, of being a prodigy, if prodigy was defined as having the capacity to test out of a few freshman courses.

He had plenty of proof.

Red Field left Flashpoint’s quarters. The air was swollen with pressure from the clouds above. The base was deadly silent and each step Red Field took pumped more rage into his blood.

“Hey, Red!” Somepony knocked into him as he walked toward the mess hall and Red Field cocked his hoof back to punch them. “Whoa now! Sorry to startle you!” Said Blue Streak.

“What do you want?” Red Field asked. Blue Streak looked to make sure nopony was nearby.

“A few of the guys said they saw you and that big black guy at Maremont, talking to Squad Thirteen, to Agent Orange. They said some things were said,” he laughed nervously as Red Field glowered at him, “ah, specifically that you said they, being Squad Thirteen, might be winning tomorrow, or that you thought they’d win or…” his voice trailed off, “something like that?” Red Field didn’t respond and Blue Streak searched his face, “it’s just that, you know it’s a really big bet now and if there’s bits on the line I’d like to have any insider information.”

“My official statement, to whoever would like to know,” Red Field said, “is that I will kill every member of Squad Thirteen. My official statement to Agent Orange is that he’s a shifty piece of worthless shit and I’m going to put him down like a mongrel.”

Red Field stood outside of the barracks, the M63’s thick plastic stock pushed into his shoulder. The moon was hidden behind the pregnant rain clouds and he could barely see across the compound. He waited until the nearest patrol was at least thirty meters away before he took the rifle off of safe. The plain reticule hovered a few centimeters under the light above the door of Maremont. The rifle spat a quiet hiss and the action cycled sluggishly from the underpowered round. A dull blue spat appeared on the door, just above the first. Red Field increased the elevation by two more clicks and took a third shot. His third shot hit the door handle where he aimed.
The rifle couldn’t hit consistently past a hundred and seventy meters and the action quickly caked with carbon from the filthy training rounds.

Red Field was going to kill every pony in Squad Thirteen with the M63. He was a good sniper, he was an intelligent pony.
When nopony believed in him- that was when he showed everypony.

The door to the barracks squeaked open and Red Field ducked against the wall. He’d waited until the rest of the Squad Six had gone to bed before returning. He didn’t want to deal with any of them.

“Red?” Full Wing asked. “Are you out here? I thought I heard somepony shooting with a silencer or something.” Red Field paused to see if anypony else was with Full Wing. “Red, I really need to talk to you.”

“Yeah, what’s up?” Red Field asked, stepping around the corner and under the light. Full Wing jumped a little.

“Oh, gosh, I didn’t think you were so close.” He said.

“Yeah, I was just zeroing this.” Red Field said, resting the rifle against the door. “Did the rest of the barracks tell you about this afternoon at Maremont?”

“They said they aren’t giving up. Black Rain came up with this new plan to stay on the run the whole time and wear them out or something like that.” Full Wing looked at his hooves. “Red can I ask you something?” Red Field was getting tired of ponies asking him questions about asking him questions and he started to tell Full Wing he didn’t have time. “Can I be your spotter?”

“What?” Red Field asked. Full Wing closed the door behind him and stepped out beside Red Field.

“I read the whole book on reading wind speed and humidity and spin drift. I found it under your bed and I think I understand it all. I know Siplinski asked you and I dunno, there’s probably a ton of ponies who want to be your spotter. I know I’m not the smartest pony, but-”

“Why do you want to be my spotter?”

“I want to be your spotter so you can help me learn like you did with Siplinski. When you taught him from that book you’d always say he could learn anything if he applied himself.” The quiet patter of raindrops filled the air as the storm began. “I want to start learning to learn, if that makes sense.”

“Yeah.” Red Field said. “It makes a lot of sense.” He looked toward the officers’ quarters. “I want you to be my spotter and I want you to start learning stuff.”

“You- you mean it?” Red Field nodded and Full Wing hugged him. “Holy shit dude thank you.” Red Field felt him choke up a bit. “I know I say this a lot but you’re my best Goddamn friend in the whole world, like I look up to you.”

“And you’re my best Goddamn friend in the whole world.” Red Field felt the bitterness welling up. “And I really want to see you succeed.”

He and Full Wing weren’t different. Neither of them had been given a fair chance by their peers. Red Field wanted Full Wing to succeed out of unadulterated spite toward the egotistical assholes that surrounded them.

He could teach Full Wing anything and he would.

Next Chapter: Chapter 17 Estimated time remaining: 7 Hours, 9 Minutes