He drummed his fingers on his arm, flicking away drops of sweat with every beat.

Lyra's skeleton key had gotten them into an empty dorm, and Lightning Dust's escort had made sure that they reached there unseen. Lyra's skeleton would get them into the lab later, the supplies for when they got in were in his pack, Lightning Dust had assured them that she and her crew would be there and ready at ten, Maud would keep an eye on them in case they turned traitor: everything was ready.

So why am I so afraid?

He licked his lips again, then mopped his brow. He would've asked for the AC to be turned on, but they couldn't risk anyone knowing they were there. The air conditioning suddenly activating in an abandoned dorm would draw too much attention; he would have to tough it out, like Rainbow would.

Just like she would work with gangsters?

He nervously scratched his hair, trying to scour his fears from his brain; nothing had ever been proven regarding the Washouts, for all he knew they were guiltless, as innocent as his sister. And even if they weren't, Rainbow had worked with Sunset at the Battle of the Bands, in times of trial like this you couldn't choose your allies, you had to take who you could get. He had to bring Sunset home, whatever it took. Rainbow would do so; he could do no less.

"I'm sorry, but that's not possible right now."

"'Not possible,'" he quoted to himself, "'isn't a word. Nothing's impossible; if people say something is, that just means it hasn't been done yet.'" Dean Cadance might have said it wasn't possible for Zephyr to bring Sunset home, she might even think it was, but nothing was impossible. His sister had sent him to do so, and even if he had to go to the ends of the world and back, he wouldn't fail her. Not again. He had it all planned out, everything was in place, this was going to work.

Right?

"Zephyr," Lyra whispered from her hiding spot under one of the beds. "Do we really have to do this?"

"You heard the dean," he whispered back. "Until Rolling Thunder's back to normal, Sunset can't leave. If we help bring her back under control-"

"Sunset still won't want anything to do with CHS," Lyra cut him off. "You saw her when she saw us, she looked like someone punched her in the gut. Anon-A-Miss shook her up worse than your sister thought, looks like. Even if we manage to deal with Rolling Thunder, and that's a big if, she still won't want to come back. This isn't going to work."

Is this not going to work? Zephyr bristled. Or am I not going to? "Then what do you propose we do? Fluttershy told us to bring Sunset home."

"That's the thing," Lyra replied. "She is home. You saw her joking with Indigo, and from what Cady said she's close to her and Twilight, too. She's made a new home here, and she isn't going to give it up for her old home, not after it threw her out."

"Canterlot High didn't throw her out," Zephyr protested. "It was Anon-A-Miss and those they managed to fool that did."

"And to her eyes, 'those they managed to fool' look like the whole school," Lyra shook her head. "She thinks we burned her, and seeing Wondercolts at the Riot would've only made her think that more. Enough of us managed to hurt her to make her think that all of us want to, and she's not going to give us the chance to prove her wrong. That bridge is burned, Zephyr, and she doesn't plan on rebuilding it anytime soon."

"So we give up?" he snorted, trying to quiet the doubts swelling up within him. "Tell Lightning Dust the plan's off, pack up, and head home? What do you suggest we tell my sister; 'Sorry, Fluttershy, but we couldn't bring Sunset home, all we managed to do was scare her into calling her attack dogs on Rarity and Applejack?' How well do you think she'd take that?"

"Better than she'd take hearing about you getting thrown in jail for breaking and entering," she snapped. "This isn't a game, Zephyr, we are committing crimes here. If we don't turn back now, we will be the kind of criminals people say Lightning Dust - Canter's crown, what possessed you to team up with Lightning Dust of all people? Even when I was here, she was bad news, and she's only gotten worse since."

"You don't know that," he grumbled. "Nothing was ever-"

"Proven, I know," Lyra cut him off. "I also know that absolutely no one thinks that's because of anything other than Cinch's influence. If they stopped being useful to her, they'd get thrown in jail faster than we'll be if we go through with this. You're playing with fire, Zephyr, and it's only going to get you burned."

"My sister worked with fire at the Battle of the Bands," he retorted. "I'd say that turned out well for her, wouldn't you agree?"

"She worked with a spark," she replied. "You're trying to work with a wildfire. Sunset back then was nothing like Lightning Dust is now, even now she doesn't compare. Sunset called the Guard on Rarity and Applejack because she thought they betrayed her; if Lightning Dust thinks you've betrayed her, she'll use her beloved knife, take anything from your house that isn't bolted down, then torch whatever's left. Sunset's got shady ethics, Lightning Dust has bloodlust. Even if you do manage to work with her, you'll be working with someone worse than the old Sunset, almost worse than the Dazzlings if Princess Twilight was right. The Washouts are a knife without a handle; no matter how you try to hold it, it's going to hurt you. How can you think this will go anyway other than horribly?"

"And how do you think things will go if we turn back?" he snapped. "How do you think Lightning Dust would take us backing out of our deal? How do you think sister would take hearing that all we did was cost her two of her friends? How do you think Luna would take hearing about what we did before we decided to just give up? We've gone too far to turn back, Lyra; the only way out is to see it through."

As he was the leader of their little expedition, she was forced to accept his judgement against her own (again), though not without a fair bit of grumbling on her part. As he slumped back in his hiding place in the closet, he wiped his brow again; he didn't like being so sharp with her, but he couldn't deal with any more doubts, he produced enough of them on his own. He needed to fortify himself for the night ahead, not second-guess himself; he needed to be confident, sure of himself and his allies, if he wanted the plan to work. Doubts, fears, second-guesses, all of those would only serve to slow him down when he needed speed the most. He had to be calm, cool, confident, if he was going to be a hero like Rainbow Dash. And he was going to be; he'd come so far for his sister, done so much, done everything Rainbow would have done. He had to be the hero.

So why am I so afraid?

---

The minutes ticked past in drops of sweat, until at last the message came from Lightning Dust saying that they were outside.

Taking a deep breath, Zephyr stepped out of the closet and watched as Lyra shook Maud awake. Mere moments later, they were at the door, cautiously opening it and checking for any stray students or staff on the other side. Seeing none, Lyra waved them through, and led their little expedition through the bowels of the school to the agreed-upon gate.

A few moments of fiddling, and the lock clicked open, the Washouts quickly pouring in. They came prepared; all were in uniform, knives hung from their belts, and here and there in the moonlight Zephyr saw the dull glint of arbalests, the purpose of which he tried to keep out of mind. "Any trouble?" he croaked.

"Nope," Lightning grinned. "Any on your end?"

Mutely, he shook his head.

Her grin widened. "Then lead the way."

Now they were in front of Twilight's lab, Lyra kneeling in front of it and jostling her skeleton key around in the lock. Zephyr shivered, then wiped the sweat from his forehead, inwardly wondering why Maud needed her coat if it was already hot enough to make him sweat.

There was a click, and then the door opened into void. The stench of ozone rolled out of it, piercing him like a knife. His mouth was dry, almost too dry to swallow. But only almost, and after he did so he pulled his supplies out of his pack, prepared to step through-

-and found himself stopped by a sturdy hand on his shoulder, the previously stoic Maud looking at him pleadingly. In the dim glow of her flashlight, her eyes looked sunken, almost haunted. "Zephyr," she whispered, almost too quietly to hear, "please."

He shrugged her hand off, then stepped through the portal, emerging into a scene of chaos. Fragments of furniture and machinery lay strewn about the room, scattered like debris after a wreck. Shards of glass glittered like diamonds, the shattered lights in the ceiling the ore that yielded them. Swirling clouds of dust lurked in the corners, occasionally riding the residual lightning of Rolling Thunder like flotsam riding a tidal wave, riding, rising, and then falling to pieces as it grew too much.

Shakily, he whistled, then called out in a gentle voice, "Rolling Thunder, Rolling Thunder, are you in here?"

No answer.

Swallowing again (why was his throat so dry?), he walked further in, carefully shaking the plate in his hand. "Rolling Thunder," he called in his best imitation of his sister, "I have something for you. It's your favorite." Prying one white-knuckled hand off the plate, he feebly began trying to fan the scent of the treat into the lab, croaking, "Maremite on whole wheat, mm-mm! Can you smell it, Roll-Rolling Thunder? It's all your's, you just need to show-show your pre-show your face, and it'll be all your's."

She showed her face, and it took all his might not to drop the plate.

Her eyes burned blue, like open flames. Her skin glowed, too, not as bright, though that might have been because the glow seemed to be coming from inside her, illuminating her bones against her skin. Sparks jumped from fang to fang. Misshapen feathers studded her arms, lightning tracing their tips. Their glow revealed her hands, now almost talon-like and bristling with power, and the tattered remnants of her uniform covering her body. Similar growths protruded from her back, crackling like Tesla coils.

As fast as the lightning that haloed her, she scrabbled over to Zephyr on all fours, then sniffed suspiciously at the plate, bristling and twitching. He could feel his hair drifting up in the charged air, and ozone filled his nose.

He heard shouting behind him, but he couldn't make out the words; all there was in the world now was him and Rolling Thunder, looming before him like a spirit of death. His open hand tingled, and began feeling faint; his body was preparing to shut down, preparing to give in to the death that stood before him.

Desperately trying to shake off that despair, he shakily smiled, and even more shakily said, "There you are. Do you want the sandwich, Rolling Thunder? It's all your's. Don't worry, it's safe. I can try some, if you-" He prepared to break some of it off, then quickly retracted his hand as she started hissing and sparking angrily. "Ha," he weakly laughed. "Guess Short Fuse was right, you really do love your Maremite. Why don't you have some? It's all your's, after all."

She glared at him, then sniffed at the sandwich again.

Smiling shakily, he knelt down, stretching out the plate to her in offering like he'd seen his sister do a thousand times.

Rolling Thunder tensed up as he did so, watching him like a hawk (and he was a mouse), then cautiously looked at the sandwich, giving it a careful look from every direction. After finishing her inspection, she gnashed her teeth, pulsed her feathers, (almost scared him into wetting himself), then, mercifully, stretched out a hand to the plate.

He breathed a sigh of relief. Everything's fine, he told himself. Everything's going according to plan. A genuine smile on his face, he watched as Rolling Thunder reached for the sandwich-

-then hesitated, then narrowed her eyes.

Something's wrong.

She rolled to the side, narrowly dodging the arbalest bolt.

What are they thinking? He turned to glare at the Washouts, and found a brawl broken out between them and his companions. Two of them already lay on the floor, unconscious (or so he hoped), presumably due to Maud, currently trying to wrest an empty arbalest away from a furiously weeping Short Fuse. Lyra was dueling another one - Zephyr couldn't remember their name - with a stolen knife (that was dripping blood), while Lightning Dust-

-Lightning Dust had her own knife drawn, and was advancing on the gaping Rolling Thunder.

"Sorry about this, Thundie," she said, though Zephyr couldn't hear the slightest bit of contrition in her voice, "but you know how it is; if a dog's gone rabid, you have to put it down. And if that dog knows things, things its owner wants kept secret, and that owner can't risk the dog saying something it shouldn't while it's mad..."

Why isn't she fighting back? Zephyr gaped as Rolling Thunder nervously backed away from Lightning's blade. Why isn't she doing anything? Then he saw Rolling Thunder flick a glance at the lightning bolt on Lightning Dust's chest, and realized; She can't understand what Lightning's saying. She thinks Lightning's her friend because of her uniform.

"Don't worry, though," Lightning continued speaking and advancing, almost sauntering towards her confused comrade. "We'll never forget you. Especially not Short Fuse; it took forever to convince him that you were too far gone, that this," she brandished her knife in the stormy light, "was the only way."

She won't fight back.

It's the only way.

"He'll probably cry about you until the day he dies," Lightning sighed. "He really loved you, you know? He might've acted obnoxiously about it, but that's because he doesn't know any better."

It's the only way.

He doesn't know any better.

"But that's in the future," Lightning said as she caught up to her prey, huddled now in the corner. "For now?" She grinned wolfishly as she bared her knife. "I've got a dog to put down."

Rolling Thunder looked around frantically, her gaze eventually landing on Zephyr and sending a desperate plea his way. She didn't understand what was going on, she didn't understand why her packmate was doing this, she just wanted it to stop.

I've got a dog to put down.

Lightning's knife descended-

-right as Zephyr slammed his shoulder into her, sending them both tumbling to the ground.

"Rolling Thunder," he panted, heaving for breath, "is not a dog, and she's not a monster. She's a person, just like you, me, and Sunset Shimmer. I thought that I was justified in doing whatever I could to bring Sunset back, because she wasn't a person to me; she was a goal, a dream, a-a-a-"

Why was there so much blood?

Zephyr looked down at his foe, at the Washout lying on the floor.

At the knife he'd, by some chance, jostled into a killing blow.

"No," he whispered. "No, no no no no no. I didn't want this, I never wanted this, I didn't want this to happen! Lightning Dust, please-"

The sight of her eyes, already glassy in death, would haunt him until he joined her there, as would her mouth, its frequent smirk turned into an eternal grimace of pain and shock.

He backed away from the dead girl, breath coming in frantic gasps. The sounds of fighting behind him had gone silent, as silent as the grave. Turning around to look at those still conscious - Maud, Lyra, Short Fuse - he winced at the looks of shock and fear in their eyes. "Please," he pleaded, "you have to believe me, it was an accident. I was only trying to protect Rolling Thunder, I didn't mean to-to kill-I didn't mean to kill anyone! None of this was supposed to happen!" He choked out a sob, then whimpered, "What did I do wrong?"

The hairs on the back of his neck leapt up as a wave of ozone washed over him.

Confused, he turned back to look at Rolling Thunder, now hissing in anger, waves of lightning washing over her.

"Rolling Thunder?" he whispered. "What's wrong? Don't worry, nobody's going to hurt you, everything's going to be-"

Drip.

Voice killed with horror, he looked down tremblingly at the floor, gazing in fear at the puddle his sweat had fallen in.

The puddle of Lightning Dust's blood.

She was her packmate. I killed her packmate.

He tried to croak out an explanation, a justification, but they all died in the blistering light of Rolling Thunder's rage.

He heard shouting behind him again, once again indecipherable to his ears, as he turned to look at Lightning Dust's body. She was dead because of him. He'd killed her. And because of that, Rolling Thunder was even more out of control; Sunset wouldn't be coming home anytime soon. He'd broken the law, killed another person, all for nothing.

"How can you think this will go anyway other than horribly?"

"What have I done?" he gasped.

Then Rolling Thunder roared, lightning boomed from her back, and his world turned into white.

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