The Hollow Kingdom of Octavia

Chapters

Exhibit A
Exhibit B
Exhibit C
Exhibit D
Exhibit E
Exhibit F
Exhibit G
Exhibit H
Exhibit I
Exhibit J

Exhibit A

In grade school, it was always Vinyl and Octavia or Octavia and Vinyl. They were those two fillies. If there had been a coupon for them, the pair would have been labeled "2-4-1" across their foreheads. As they grew up, that never really changed. They so loved one another that every effort was made to stay as close as possible. Octavia picked Canterlot Conservatory to study in. Vinyl got a job at a Canterlot nightclub. They found a flat together.

Their love has always been unconditional. There are no expected behaviors to keep the fire of friendship alight. This is good since the two have very different dispositions and lifestyles. Octavia enjoys playing the cello, drinking tea, and her guiltiest pleasure is the occasional sweet treat after dinner. Vinyl Scratch enjoys loud, electronic music, most recreational drugs, and her guiltiest pleasure is getting fucked in the ass.

Octavia, partaking in a pleasant cup of tea while secretly pining for a doughnut, thinks back to the day Vinyl discovered the wonderful world of anal sex. They were still in school back in Manehattan, and Octavia still remembers their teacher scolding Vinyl for insisting for standing during the lecture. Vinyl had raved during lunch to Octavia about what she had drunkenly discovered with that scraggly colt from Biology while Octavia helped her tend to the hangover. It was not the first time or last time Vinyl had discovered something. Octavia has many memories just like that one.

The only reason Octavia recalls that particular memory this morning is because Vinyl had raised a bit of drunken hell last night when the stallion she had seduced refused to "plug her dirty hole." The stallion was escorted out by a few thrown bottles before Octavia simply passed out on the couch. Octavia threw a blanket on her and called it a night.

Now it is early afternoon, so Octavia figures Vinyl should awaken sometime soon. As wild and crazy as the unicorn is, she's fairly predictable. Octavia isn't surprised when she stumbles in, grumbles inaudibly for Octavia to make her some real food, groveles about how her partner last night was no good, and there was certainly no surprise when Vinyl forgot what his name was. Octavia just fixed her friend a bowl of hot oats before returning to her tea before it got too cold.

"Hey, you wanna do me a huge favor?" Vinyl asks, surprising Octavia. Vinyl hardly wants for anything aside from a cooked meal and a weather report. Vinyl Scratch rarely requests a favor, and only once every one thousand years did she ever ask for a "huge" one. "Please say yes because I pretty much made all the arrangements already."

"Well, you may as well go ahead and ask then," Octavia replies.

"I've got a buddy who needs to lay low for a while," Vinyl says, putting her two front hooves together in that classic begging, pleading gesture. Considering the company Vinyl keeps and harbors inside her nightclub, she was not in short supply of buds who had reason to lay low. If one doesn't find themselves with a stomach for rape, murder, kidnap or some combination of the three, the underground drug trade is a good way to get the Royal Guard onto your back. "So I told him he could crash here for the night before he catches his train tomorrow afternoon."

"Will he be sleeping in your room or on the couch?"

"The couch, of course," Vinyl replies. Octavia didn't question why Vinyl thought she needed to check with Octavia before letting a friend sleep on their sofa, but inviting one or two ponies over for a night of sexual deviancy could go forward without ever consulting the roommate. The answer probably had something to do with hard liquor. At any rate, it is rare for Vinyl to invite a stallion over and not fool around with him.

"What exactly did this stallion do?" Octavia dares to ask. She had a strict No-Murderers-or-Rapists Policy when it came to guests evading the law. Vinyl kept better company than that, but Octavia still wants to draw the line. It's her way of making everything a bit more okay.

"One of his dealers got busted," Vinyl tells her. "He's pretty sure the pony is gonna snitch, so he's making some last minute arrangements with his partners tonight. After that he's gonna get on a train for hopefully greener pastures." Vinyl shovels a piping hot spoonful of oatmeal into her mouth and swallows it in one go. "No pun intended."

"Does the pun have to do with weed or money?" Octavia asks, but Vinyl just shrugs.

"Just don't tell anypony, alright?" Vinyl tells her friend after another heap of oatmeal. "The Helmet Heads would love to know what you and I know."

"Right, right." Octavia rolls her eyes. For once, she wishes Vinyl could forgo the reminder not the blab about her shady dealings; a sign of trust would be welcome.

"So, anything big going on with you?" Vinyl asks, putting her spoon down on the table. She levitates the bowl to her face and laps up the oats still clinging to the sides. Octavia considers Vinyl's table manners a lost cause.

"Nothing out of the usual. There's a royal visit from the Crystal Empire today, so the string quartet is going to play at a dinner with the princesses." Octavia is the First Chair Cellist for the Canterlot Orchestra and the regular Cellist for the Royal String Quartet. When it came to playing at an event attended by the richest, most powerful and influential ponies in all of Equestria, she is unflappable. Vinyl is always impressed with her composure.

"Dang. I don't think I could concentrate with all those guards around." This is not for the reason one might suspect without possessing the same level of perversion as Vinyl. "You're such a virgin."

"Yes, and I'm also going to be late if I don't hurry," Octavia says, glancing up at the clock on the wall.

"You're never late."

"And that's exactly why I have to leave." Octavia gets up and leaves the kitchen, her flatmate trotting right behind her. She gathers up her books into her saddlebags and prepares to leave. "I'm not going to be back until much later. When is your friend coming?"

"I'll be back early to let him in," Vinyl answers. "So, I'll probably get back before you. Don't freak out when you get back."

Octavia couldn't help but laugh aloud at Vinyl's last warning.

"Please, why would I freak out?"

Octavia could not have known the answer to that question.

Exhibit B

Yes, Octavia has spent hours amounting to days in the presence of Canterlot's upper class and Equestria's royalty. There was a time when catching a glimpse of either Princess left her breathless, but the effect wore off after the first ten or twenty times. Now being surrounded by bureaucrats, millionaires, heiresses, and even Princesses didn't phase her. She may as well been performing live at the Stone Enthusiasts' Ball as far as fresh sights were concerned, but the fact that she is not performing there but is instead performing here in Canterlot Castle's terrace garden is still important to her.

No, Octavia is not part of that upper crust she performs for so often. Musicians, no matter how well known, didn't make the kind of money that could elevate them to that kind of status unless they already held that status. Octavia could venture to throw some of her money into the market and hope for the best if she really wanted to live in a mansion with three or four hoof servants, but she had other, practical things to spend her money on.

At the end of the day, Octavia is no different from the waiters ferrying hors d'oeuvres around on silver platters or the busboys pacing from table to table in order to eradicate any visible mess. She is just around to make the high life what it is supposed to be: better.

She's fine with this.

It might suffice to say that Octavia enjoys playing, so being able to play is enough. Beyond that, there is acknowledgement that her playing is worthwhile to others, valuable even. It is validation for working so hard at a creative skill, a pursuit that ends abruptly for most ponies.

Octavia doesn't even watch the party from her vantage point up on the stage, but she doesn't watch her hooves dance over her instrument either. She opts to close her eyes and just relax. Even if she fell asleep, she could probably still continue playing. She knows the pieces that well. She's done this song and dance routine, so to speak, enough to know it by heart. She can afford to drift off and be alone with her thoughts.

Unfortunately, Octavia doesn't have much to think about. Her life, all in all, is pretty uneventful. Most of her excitement comes from dealing with Vinyl, who appears to lead a life of constant excitement. Vinyl has her nightclub to manage, her music to work on, and her drugs to keep a secret. She's always getting mixed up with shady characters, probably because she allows, perhaps even encourages, illicit activities to take place in and around back of her establishment. Octavia never imagined doing something so exciting.

As a result, she spends a lot of time wondering what it is like to be Vinyl Scratch. Despite how close the two are, this is the hardest task Octavia could decide to partake in. There is a long, long, looooong list of differences between the two friends. The main trait of either mare is that they love music, and this is the adhesive that keeps them attached at the hip. Octavia is sure that if they did not have that, they would have little reason to be friends.

To start off small, Vinyl Scratch likes to party and get drunk while Octavia does not. A little wine is okay for the quiet mare, but even thinking about the sheer amount of alcohol Vinyl puts away could give her headache. Aside from the alcohol, there are also the drugs. Octavia isn't up to date on what's circulating the streets as of late, but she is sure a little of everything is circulating through Vinyl Scratch. Octavia has seen her friend during euphoric highs and nightmarish hallucinations alike, and while she pretends not to see the appeal Octavia can't help but wonder what it's like on the inside. Speaking of things on the inside, Octavia is flat out frightened by the thought of having as much sex as Vinyl Scratch. Octavia is that breed of virgin who is still waiting for "the one" as if she were some ancient prophecy and her parents were magi. Vinyl Scratch may also be trying to find "the one", but she is practicing process of elimination.

The novelty of knowing Vinyl and Octavia as they are today is so one can be familiar with that pair of friends who seem to have nothing in common yet would name their first born after the other even if the gender was off. Octavia knows this; she thinks about it often when she isn't required to think about anything else. She does not think badly of her friendship, but that's because she understands the underlying machinations that make it work so well. She is tired of rolling her eyes at every:

"But you two are so different."

"Like night and day, you two."

"How do you even get a long?"

"Must cause a lot of friction."

It doesn't cause friction. Friction occurs when two bodies move in opposite directions, but Octavia and Vinyl are moving very much in sync. For love to work, both parties must strive towards the same hill in the distance. If Octavia is to be completely honest, she isn't sure what that hill is, but she is sure it has a lot to do with sharing lovely music with lots of ponies. They could do it alone, but everything is better with good company. Through every stage, they have competed with each other, supported one another, and just simply stuck around to prevent loneliness in the other party. That's why they love each other so much.

The quartet's piece comes to an end. There is a smattering of applause.

Octavia opens her eyes briefly. She can see Celestia, Luna, and Cadence seated at the far end of the room clapping their hooves for her. She also notices an empty seat at their table.

She just closes her eyes again and begins the next piece. The affairs of royalty don't have much bearing on her. Should every royal ear suddenly fall deaf, then it would have great bearing on her, but other politics hardly don't bother her. No, being so close to it all made her skeptical of every scandal and controversial policy. At the end of the day, high class ponies are just ponies. All ponies like music, and that's why Octavia is here. She's here because she likes music. That sums it up.

Exhibit C

"So what's new in the lives of the rich and famous?" Pony Joe asks his late night customer. Octavia finishes chewing her dainty bite of cinnamon roll before answering.

"Nothing. They are still rich and they are still famous."

"I hear those Crystal Empire Royals are running around tonight. Did you get a glimpse of them?" Joe asks. He is just separated far enough from the high life to be curious about it. "Do you think the meeting went well?"

"The Crystal Kingdom is run by Celestia's niece and her former Captain of the Guard, so of course it went well. The last thing you'll ever need to worry about is an attack from the Crystal Empire," Octavia tells him. She takes another bite of her pastry, savoring the sweet, sugary taste in her mouth. "Come to think of it, I didn't see the Prince around."

"He'd probably prefer to knock a few back with his old soldiering buddies, if you ask me," Joe says, but his suggestion is solid. Back when Shining Armor was still Captain of the Guard, he never attended overly formal events. Octavia is slightly surprised he even attended his own wedding, which his bride ironically almost missed.

Octavia takes has another nibble of her pastry while she wonders what Shining Armor's evening must have been like. She imagines he sat around with a gaggle of inebriated stallions while exchanging stories of sexual conquest. Octavia doesn't know much about how stallions operate when they're alone.

"Do you want me to cut your roll into tiny pieces?" Joe asks, levitating a butter knife from under the counter. "I'm sure it would help you take even more microscopic bites."

"Don't tempt me," Octavia replies, feigning indignation with a dramatic turning up of her nose. "You just want me to finish so you can close the shop and go home."

"No, of course not. If that happened, I'd get lonely."

Octavia can't help but smirk a bit at what Joe thinks is clever flirting. Octavia can't say she's had much better, but that's not what is at issue. In fact, there is no issue. Octavia is flattered for sure, but she won't allow Joe the satisfaction of knowing that, not yet. It's too fun to watch him squirm.

"I thought you'd be used to that by now," Octavia says without one indication that she might be joking. Considering the number of times he has used that line, there is a part of her that's dead serious.

"Well... if you feel that way about it, maybe you should just get that to go," Joe promises, but it's an empty promise. If he kicked her out, Octavia would refuse to talk to him. Joe would really get lonely then. "Or maybe I should tell Vinyl you've had sweets three times this week."

"Three times isn't a big deal."

"It's Tuesday." He leaves out the part where it has only been Tuesday for less than an hour. "You'll be in big trouble."

"My only crime is that I'm a mare who likes sugar and honey a bit more than average," Octavia says. "And if it's such a big issue, I just won't come by the rest of the week."

"No, please, I couldn't bear that," Joe says with a dismissive roll of his eyes. He doesn't just make false promises, he knows how to spot one on somepony else. "I can't trust any of these other shops to fatten you up."

"Hey." Octavia shoots a glare at Joe, who quickly steps back behind the metaphorical line.

"Alright, alright, you win. Eat at your own pace," he tells her, chuckling to himself as he walks off to start closing up. Octavia finishes her treat in silence. She bids goodnight to Joe before heading home, only stopping once to let out a particularly loud yawn. No matter how tame her day is, Octavia doesn't last long after midnight hits. Tired and pining for sleep, Octavia wishes she had Vinyl's ability to stave off sleep for days on end. Then again, she might do that because of the side effect of some drug she happens to take.

After a long walk through Canterlot's nighttime streets, Octavia's front door is a welcome sight. She is about to go for the key in her bag when she remembers that Vinyl said she would be back by now with her friend. Octavia has only to turn the unlocked handle to allow herself inside.

Octavia notes that there are about five or more strange ponies inhabiting her living room. She doesn't stop to count all of them because at least three seem to have a notable volume of blood on their coats. This is enough to give her pause. This is enough to make her concerned.

Despite the suddenness of the situation, Octavia does not freak out. She stands there with her mouth shut and her eyes wide open like any self-respecting pony would do. In the meantime, Octavia wonders what she should do in lieu of panicking, but nothing comes to mind. The ponies in her flat have noticed her by now, so she knows she has to say something.

"Friends of Vinyl?"

It is at that moment that Octavia realizes that if she walked in to find a burglar, her first thought would be the intruder was a friend of Vinyl's. She does not know whether this is a defense mechanism to keep her calm or an association between ponies who hang out with Vinyl and a life of crime. She does know, however, that now is not the time to worry about that.

Exhibit D

"Vinyl, what is this?"

It is a den of thieves, a bunker of swindlers, a gathering of deviants, a party of wrong-doers, a potash of unsavory characters, an amalgamation of the most crooked ponies in Canterlot, a mess really. Vinyl is in the middle of this mess, this bloody mess no less. She doesn't have a speck of blood it on her, but that is beside the point. Vinyl puts her friends' worries at ease concerning Octavia, but she still takes her aside into Octavia's room to sort through things. She has a lot of explaining to do, but Octavia can't even look her in the face.

"It's complicated." Vinyl's first words do nothing to comfort Octavia. Blood and drugs hardly ever lead to simple situations, but for Vinyl to say the situation is complicated means much more than just a few tangled ropes. No, Octavia realizes she has walked in on what may very well be a huge conspiracy in the making. Despite this, Vinyl still seems pretty chill.

"You didn't kill anypony, did you?" Octavia asks, but this is a mistake even if it is a mistake she was bound to make anyways. Vinyl's eyes dart elsewhere for a split second. "Vinyl?!"

"I didn't kill anyone."

"Vinyl!"

"It's complicated." Indeed it is, and Vinyl knows it. Even from the inside, the situation is a complete and utter disaster. She knows it must look even worse from outside where Octavia is standing. "Things went south at the club tonight. There were guards and fighting and whatnot. These guys won't be here very long. It's just until we're sure things have cooled off enough for them to get back to their normal hidey-holes."

"How long is that going to take?" Octavia's composure is pretty much gone. She is on the verge of hyperventilating, but a strong desire to regain control of the current situation and her entire life by extension keeps her from tipping over the line of hysteric panic.

"They're going to head out in a half-hour, so don't worry about it." Vinyl puts a reassuring hoof on her friend's shoulder. "And the pony I said I was going to put up here has to change his plans now, so you don't have to worry about that either. It'll be fine as long as we keep this on the down low."

This is not the first time Vinyl has made such a request of Octavia, which should not be surprising. The only difference was this time Octavia could tell Vinyl was hiding something from her. There were details she was leaving out. Octavia thinks Vinyl may be omitting certain details to protect her, but Octavia is a grown mare. Octavia doesn't need protecting.

"Vinyl, if these ponies have done something wrong, we need to go to the authorities!" Her plea falls on deaf ears.

"No way! These guys are my buds," Vinyl tells her friend. "Just look the other way for me, please! I'll take care of it."

Octavia does not want to look the other way. She wants to turn the criminals in and wash her hooves of this incident. She wouldn't betray Vinyl, who she still believes is innocent in all of this, but these strangers are another matter. If they have to pay for their crimes in order for Octavia to return to her normal, peaceful life then so be it.

On the other hoof, Octavia wouldn't betray Vinyl. If Vinyl says she's going to take care of it, she is going to take care of it. She always takes care of it, and heaven forbid Octavia consider what should happen if she doesn't. At the end of the day, Octavia is smaller than the crisis facing her. If Vinyl says she'll confront this beast, how could she say no?

"A few minutes... and that'll be it, right? This will be behind us?" Octavia asks, casting her gaze back into her friend's eyes to see them betraying their master again. This is not good and neither is the long pause that follows. "...Vinyl?"

"There's one other thing."

"Vinyl!"

"The brass won't look here!"

"Vinyl?!" Octavia finds herself in a sort of misty haze. Vinyl keeps talking, but Octavia can't even listen to herself right now. The feeling is somewhere between disgusted and optimistic; she's undecided. Before Vinyl's door, she can sense the calamity trying to rip the thing off its hinges. Maybe it's the bloodstains or lack of light under the door that tips her off, but perhaps in her panic she just arrived at a sort of clarity.

The door swings open and sucked all the sound out of the world. There is some unicorn, white and black and blue, lashed to the corners of the four post bed. He is blindfolded, gagged, and Octavia's worst case scenario put to shame.

"It's Shining Armor." Vinyl reveals this straight-out. "We drugged him, so he won't struggle too much. We're not sure why he was there tonight, but he found us out somehow. The guys are too afraid to put a royal in the ground, but they don't want to let him snitch either. We're just going to keep nice and safe here for a little while, alright? It's all under control."

These details, while interesting, never reach Octavia. She passes out, but who could blame her? She has something like a fever dream before she conks out completely.

"Did you spill blood tonight?" Octavia asks a phantom that looks kinda like Vinyl with hollow pits for eyes. This Vinyl is able to smile and tell the truth.

"I prefer to release more pleasurable fluids, frankly."

Octavia doesn't know what she means or if it even answers the question, but her last lucid thought is that she would have to be crazy to try and suss out reality from a hallucination.

Exhibit E

Octavia finds the familiarity with which her morning routine unfolds incredibly unsettling. Whenever she looks around her home the rays of sunlight flowing in and the dust particles floating about in them give her the strange sensation of being in a hospital. This place is safety constructed around a great and disturbing danger. There is a door she could open to see something certainly out of the ordinary. She could shatter the mood of fragile comfort that easily.

"Morning Tavi."

Octavia chooses to live in ignorance for the time being.

"You're up early," she says, stirring her tea but never drinking it. It is black tea, no cream but two cubes of sugar. It's got a reddish tint to it. Octavia pretends this does not bother her but does a very poor job of it.

"Our prisoner needed tending to."

"Don't call him that."

"Call him what?"

"Don't call him 'ours' and don't call him 'prisoner.'" Octavia clarifies. "I didn't bring him here. I have nothing to do with this. He is yours not ours." Octavia cleans her hooves of this.

"Fine, but if he's not a prisoner what else could he be?"

"A guest."

Just like that, Shining Armor becomes the other red tinted, sugar coated thing Octavia is trying to pretend she is okay with. She certainly thought this is where she drew the line. Perhaps it was over the line for Octavia, but now confronted with this problem she is quick to take a few steps back and draw a new line. Lines offer neither safety or comfort if they are not maintained. Still, this is a good excuse for inaction.

Octavia realizes she is thinking too hard about this.

"Well, my guest will be here for a while probably, so get used to him," Vinyl says. "And don't tell anypony."

"Get used to him." Octavia says to herself. That is exactly what she would like to do, but it's easier said than done. She hasn't even tried to yet, but this is the only for sure thing about it. It isn't something she should have to get used to.

"And don't worry. Nopony has any reason to suspect he might be here," Vinyl tells her. That seems unlikely, but Octavia doesn't say anything. She just allows the tension to continue growing. With every reassurance that they won't be caught, she is reminded that this is wrong.

It occurs to Octavia that she needs to tell somepony about this. The Prince of the Crystal Empire is missing. He was kidnapped by scared junkies and now he is here in her home. There will be a guard or two below in the street, so she could alert them right now. Octavia would be a hero, having returned Shining Armor safely to his home and having helped upturn a portion of the drug trade in the process. She wondered why she wasn't running to the castle at this very moment.

Vinyl.

"So go on and do your thing. This'll be over soon and we can have a good laugh about it afterwards, alright?" the unicorn says to her friend, but Octavia is barely listening now. It seems so odd that Vinyl is talking like she is protecting Octavia because it is really the other way around. Vinyl should be afraid that Octavia, who has basically nothing to lose, will turn her in to the brass.

"You really trust me that much?"

"Huh?" Now it was Vinyl who wasn't listening or maybe her hearing was finally starting to go from all that loud music.

"I've got to get going."

"Alright, take care."

The situation would be borderline comedic for Octavia if she wasn't the one in it. Desperately trying to maintain the illusion of innocence and agency, she hurries out the front door. She leaves the building, goes right past the guards searching the streets, and all the way to the conservatory. Once she reaches the sanctuary of the practice hall, she lets out a sigh of relief.

"Hey, Octavia, did you hear the news?"

"What news?"

"The Prince of the Crystal Empire has been kidnapped!"

That was when the enormity of the entire situation came into view: everypony knows. Everypony wants to know what Octavia knows. Everypony else would do what Octavia wouldn't if they were in her shoes. In mere seconds, she realizes she will have to keep this a secret from every breathing thing if she wants to protect Vinyl.

"Of course I heard, everypony knows," Octavia says, beginning her facade. Just as it should be, she plays the part of an innocent bystander, ignorant to the truth. "It's absolutely horrible, what's happened."

"You said it," her fellow musician replies. "I hear the castle is canceling all their major events for the upcoming days too, so it looks like we've got nothing to do in the meantime."

"And here I was, hoping for a distraction." Octavia didn't have to lie there.

"Same here. Most of the others just went home already, but the director says the place will be open for anypony who wants to practice."

"I think I'll take him up on that." Octavia sped out of the company of another pony insulting fast, but not suspiciously. She retrieved her instrument and found herself a practice room at the far, far end of the building. She practiced in silence, as in not at all. She stared catatonic at her music and held her instrument completely still, but she never moved. There was nopony to notice how strange it was because nopony ever came around, much like nopony knew what Octavia was hiding at her house because the only pony there was Vinyl.

She knew all along she was wrong when she said Shining Armor wasn't their prisoner. The stallion was most certainly trapped and Octavia felt she willingly played the role of his jailor. She stayed where she was for a while, wondering just what she should do.

Exhibit F

It wasn't near late enough to go home. If Octavia went home now, she would undoubtedly run into Vinyl there. If she ran into Vinyl without the useful excuse of having to go to bed for reason of fatigue, she might have to talk to Vinyl. If she talks to Vinyl, she'll have to be reminded of Shining Armor. Octavia had just spent the day trying to put up some mental distance between herself and what was going on. If she was going to complacent in this system, she was going to be as ignorantly complacent as possible.

She moved about in the nighttime streets of Canterlot, just trotting around like a trickle trying to cut a great river. She is the kind of mare who can recharge on a long, lonely walk. A long walk is the only way she can come home in body and spirit, and home is far away tonight.

Octavia would claim she knows this city better than her own mother, but this just isn't true. This isn't because Octavia's mother is a simple mare, but it is because Octavia knows she doesn't know about that half of the city Vinyl seems to love so much. She is suddenly curious, the dangerous kind of curious. This is the curious that killed the cat.

There is a street called Baker's that runs parallel to the street she lives on. Octavia has only ever crossed it on her way to work, but she has never walked south down it. South is special because it is the direction Vinyl goes to her club. This means that, yes, Octavia has never visited Vinyl's club. She won't deny that, but Vinyl hasn't been to any of her recitals either. It isn't about reciprocity but taste in music really.

Octavia turns south on Baker's. It is a normal enough street by any appearance. There are buildings and trees and trashcans and the whole nine yards. This is no different than the way Octavia goes on her way to the Conservatory. Ponies walk up and down the sidewalks and the occasional carriage rolls by. This isn't out of place.

Further down the road, Octavia notices a rise in the number of armored guards around. Soon, it's pretty much only guards. After that, she can't walk any further because of the caution tape. There are a few other civilians staring over the line into forbidden territory, but the guards on the other side are watching them. The guards are watching Octavia too.

It is clear what happened here: a war.

One door down, Vinyl can see the illuminated signs of Vinyl's club. It can't be a coincidence that after last night the sketchy looking storefront next to it has been invaded with guards. This is where it all went down.

Nausea rises like an evening tide, forcing her to turn back the way she came, but she goes much slower. Octavia realizes she doesn't really know what happened. She could just ask Vinyl, but the thought of doing it causes her heart to plummet. She can neither explain this feeling nor wish it away, so she just decides not to bring it up with her roommate. Once she has done this, she feels much more at ease. Partially to distract herself, she settles on asking somepony else about all the details.

Whoever she asks needs to be a perfect stranger, unaware of her affiliation with Vinyl. That rules out all her friends or Vinyl's friends that she knew of. She couldn't ask anypony close to home either. The two are practically peas in a pod. Octavia needs to find somepony she couldn't have possibly encountered. She stops, realizing South Baker's Street is the ideal location.

Not savoring a conversation with anypony lurking about in the shadows, she looks around for a business where somepony more reputable might be found. Of all the odd shops up and down from her position, one seems to shine like a beacon.

"The Seventh House." Octavia reads the name of the bar aloud, to see if it sounds like an okay place. It's a stretch to interpret the name as welcoming or inviting, but it is certainly tame considering the names of the other bars in the area. Octavia doesn't have the luxury of being picky, so she takes a deep breath and enters in under the fluorescent moon hung from the sign.

Octavia feels she is stepping backwards in time the moment she gets through the door. The bar doesn't look like it has been renovated for years, not that there even is a bar. Low tables surrounded by bean bags and lit by lava lamps are scattered all about the fuzzy carpeting. The dim rainbow of light dances against the wall of alcohol on the far wall, attended by a single cash register. Octavia shuffles slowly in, clearing her throat to grab the attention of the two other ponies in the place.

At a far table in the corner, the huddled form of some dark stallion sits with an outstretched glass. A fair, blue earth pony with a smooth ivory mane pours deep red wine into his glass from a pitcher. She looks up at Octavia with her striking blue eyes, which makes Octavia nervous for some reason. This other pony is awfully attractive for a barmaid, but Octavia banishes those thoughts as fast as she can. The mare speaks a few quiet words to her other client before approaching Octavia.

"Sorry, we're not really open," the mare says, smiling kindly. "Would you like to sit?"

"... Excuse me?"

"The place is shut down while the owner is away, but can I get you something to drink?" The mare continues to contradict herself, which isn't doing Octavia any favors. "It doesn't have to be alcoholic. We've got club soda and some other pretty standard stuff, but the owner only serves them in mixed drinks. That's her policy, but she isn't here. Drinks are on me."

"I'm sorry... but are you saying that in the owner's absence you're just giving away her stock?" That is certainly what it sounded like the mare was saying, and she confirms this by nodding her head. Octavia is wondering if she had walked in on some kind of weird robbery. "Won't the owner be mad?"

"She isn't planning on coming back."

"Ever?"

"If she can help it." The mare extends a hoof and steps aside. "So, can I offer you a seat?"

Octavia had to be honest with herself; she wants to sit on a bean bag. It had been so long since she had done so. There isn't any promise of intel coming out of this offbeat bartender, but a quick drink might not be so bad. The place has a nice ambiance to it, despite the drunkenly nodding pony in the back. Octavia thought if the clientele was a bit more lively that this place could be a fun place to have a drink. It's a shame she doesn't really drink.

Octavia lets the strange mare lead her to an empty table and then sits down on a bean bag. It's not quite as exciting as she hoped it would be. She just orders a soda and waits for the waitress to return. Octavia is hard pressed to continue worrying about the current state of this establishment's ownership. There are more relevant issues to look into.

"One soda, on the house!" A tall fizzing glass lands on the table, throwing flecks of moisture around with its effervescent surface. Octavia fakes a small smile for the drink and then looks up at her server. The mare just smiles back at her, genuinely. Octavia isn't after soda tonight, so it's on to the main event.

"Do you mind if I ask you something?"

"My mind is yours to prod," the waitress says, taking a seat next to her client. "I've got nothing to hide for fear nor shame. Knowledge is something we should share, you know?"

"Know what?"

"Yes what!"

"Pardon?"

"If you'd be so kind," the strange mare says, placing a hoof over her heart. "Forgiveness saves, but don't mind me. What was it you wanted to ask?"

Octavia glances over at the door, wondering if this is a big mistake. She knew this mare was offbeat, but now she was verging on psychotic with this rambling. The clues had been there all along, but it looks too late to leave now. Besides, Octavia might actually run the risk of learning something tonight.

"I was just wondering about all the commotion down the street, at the club."

"Oh, the incident at the club." A serious wave washed over the waitress's face. The lava lamp cast red, pulsating, dour shadows across her face. "Quite the sordid affair."

"I only read a little about what happened in the papers," Octavia says, getting more serious herself. "But... what exactly happened?"

"I can't say I know everything, but I can certainly tell you my experience," the waitress says, leaning deep into her beanbag. She casts her eyes upwards, recalling the events of the previous night. "I'll tell you what I told the guards. I was there when the trouble started, so I might be the only pony outside of this who knows intimate details."

Octavia knew that wasn't true, but she held her tongue and took a sip of her soda. It was a little warm.

"The whole thing started off pretty normal..."

Exhibit G

"This stallion was coming on to me pretty hard the whole night, and he was scaring away the potential for anypony else to try their hoof because he was either high or drunk or both. I figure we should just have sex and get it over with, so I take him to the mare's room and we fuck in the stall. I'm just starting to get into it when he suddenly pulls out and blows a load on the wall. At this point I'm pretty sure he's on something powerful because he was pretty much convinced his performance deserved an award. I would have settled for an encore, but his penis was not having it."

"Is this going anywhere?" Octavia asks, thinking that this is a strange way to start a story. Even Vinyl gives a bit more exposition before explaining how the sex went down.

"Unfortunately, yes," the mare said, heaving a sigh. "He starts parading me around after we leave the bathroom and hangs on me like I'm his marefriend or something. We dance and mingle a bit, and I guess it wasn't all bad. Honestly, I was just waiting for him to sober up just in case he gets in the mood again. It goes on like that for an hour or two until he's says to me, 'I have to go meet a guy.' He takes me to the top floor of the club where the private rooms are and we go into the farthest one. I was pretty stoked because I've never been in one before. He says something about how the guy won't be there for a couple of minutes and then gets all physical and feeling me up. We actually have some halfway decent sex on the couch before he pulls out again and splooges all over it. I kept telling him he could finish inside, but I guess he wasn't the type.

"Anyway, I try to get a little drunker while more stallions show up. I can tell that this meeting isn't really legit because most everypony there either had a facial scar or a five o'clock shadow. The stallion I was with calls the meeting to order and they start talking about stuff I didn't really care about. I just sat on the couch trying to look sexy.

"The meeting takes a short break so everypony could get a quick fix, and then we were leaving all of a sudden. We go out this back way I have never seen before right into this warehouse next to the club. I could tell things were about to get dangerous because there are bricks of Celestia knows what just standing around with a whole herd of thugs keeping tabs on them. I figured I was witnessing some kind of huge drug deal."

"Right out of the back of the club?" Octavia asks. She had always suspected as much, but Vinyl had never explicitly said anything.

"Yeah, isn't that crazy?" The mare was smiling for some reason, but quickly went back to being serious. "The owner has to know that something like that was going on. I could tell I was in waaaaay deeper than I cared to be. I mean, I've done my fair share of drugs, but something about the whole setup made me uncomfortable. I tell the dude I'm with I gotta use the restroom for its intended purpose, but before I can even get out the door a bunch of armed guards bust in through a door on the opposite end of the warehouse. Things got bloody fast, so I just hid behind some crates and whatnot. Oh, and you'll never guess what happens next!"

Octavia is shocked by the sudden appearance of a smile on the mare's face, as if the story is about to take a pleasant turn all of a sudden. On the other hoof, she can't see how things could've been worse.

"I get rescued by the hunk of a stallion Prince Shining Armor! Can you believe that?"

"You saw him at the warehouse?"

"In the flesh," the mare says, crossing her heart. "The guards were interested in what happened to him after he got me out of there, but all I know is he went back inside. The thugs were escaping or something and he wanted to stop them. I'll tell you, that club and that warehouse are rigged with more secret exits and entrances than you can shake a stick at."

"And the thugs made good use of them?" Octavia asks. For some reason, she could easily see Vinyl masterminding the quick entrances and exits of many stallions through different openings.

"They put up a good fight before they took off." The mare turns her eyes to the ceiling, recalling the shocking events of the previous night. "The guards couldn't figure out how they were disappearing, but I'm willing to be Shining Armor sussed it out. The guards are still poking around the warehouse, trying to find anything they might have missed."

There is a clattering in the back of the bar. Both mares turn to see the only other occupant has slumped over onto the floor. Octavia's informant immediately rushes to his side, trying to help him to his hooves. He struggles, but eventually gets upright. He mumbles under his breath, but Octavia can't hear a word of it.

"I think you've had enough," she says to him, basically dragging him across the bar. She stops in front of Octavia with the funky smelling stallion and smiles at her. "Would you mind taking him home?"

"Home?"

"His home, not yours," the mare says, clarifying what she meant. "Unless you're into that. I don't know if he's up for anything right now."

"Nnn... 's cold, Claret," the stallion mumbled to the floor. "Can't I sleep here?"

"You can't sleep here," the mare, who was apparently named Claret, tells the ragged pony. "This nice mare is going to make sure you make it back in one piece."

"But, I don't-"

"He lives two blocks west, between the dry cleaner and the office building. Consider it payment for the story or the soda if you want," Claret says, making it clear that this was not a matter of Octavia's preferences tonight. It was clear this stallion needed the warmth of his home at the moment.

Octavia relieved Claret of the stallion, who she found was lighter than she suspected. His mass was mostly comprised of coat, but his limbs were skinny and gangly. He also reeked of alcohol and sweat, but Octavia sucked it up. It was only two blocks. She could take this pony two blocks.

It would be as simple as that.

Exhibit H

Octavia recalls a joke she heard once involving a stallion boasting about how he could make a fortune by opening a chain of restaurants in the spaces between buildings and calling that chain "Gaps." The joke hadn't really impressed her previously, and right now she didn't savor the fact that she was thinking of it.

Amused or otherwise, Octavia stands two blocks down from the Seventh House between the office building and the dry cleaner. To say there is nothing here wouldn't really be right. There is certainly space here. It doesn't exactly seem like living space, but there is trash and such that somepony without much else to their name might call home. The pony leaning heavy on her shoulder at least smells like he would fit in here.

"Is this where you live?" she asks, needing confirmation. She could take Claret at her word and just dump the pony down here, but that would leave a bad taste in her mouth. That isn't the right thing to do, and in light of recent events Octavia is feeling a bit more morally obligated than usual. "Can you hear me?"

She waits for an answer, but none comes. The stallion is too far gone, so the only response is her own voice echoing down the narrow alley. After that there is the noise of something shifting, a figure shuffling to stand out of a lump on the side of the wall. A stallion with a dismal kind of look in his eye fixes his gaze on her and his black stocking cap back to his head. He regards her and then her charge. Wordlessly, he approaches them.

"Uh, excuse me." Octavia tries to establish communication. "Do you know this fellow?" Not even this clearly conscious pony graces her question with a response. He just goes straight up to the pony propped up against her.

"Jitters, you feeling alright?" the stallion asks, the question clearly not directed at Octavia. She isn't even really sure why the question needed to be asked, considering how obvious the answer is. He gives the big stallion a few taps, causing him to stir a little. He twitches before suddenly collapsing on the ground, groaning and shivering silently. Octavia's heart jumps in fear for a second, but it subsides as the pony seems to settle again. "Jeez, Jitters."

"So, you do know him?" Octavia asks once again, this time actually catching the other stallion's attention.

"What's it to you?" he asks right back at her, taking a few retreating steps. "You're not the cops, are you?"

"No, no not at all." Octavia assumes she is in another sketchy situation, which she probably should have anticipated from the outset of this little journey. "But I think your friend needs help..."

"Yeah, he needs help alright, but you're not gonna go to the cops are you?"

"Why would I go to the cops?"

"Because I gave him help, ya know?"

"I don't follow." Octavia takes another look at Jitters, who is still looking peaceful enough. "Does he need medical attention?"

"Don't change the subject. You gotta swear you won't go to the cops."

Octavia has trouble swearing on something like that. She decides she would have to, even if she doesn't put much faith in swearing herself.

"If you're going to help him, then I'm not going to get you in trouble for it."

"..."

"... I swear."

"... Fair 'nuff. You seem like an honest filly." This odd stallion sounds convinced for the time being, but Octavia herself is still wary. She gave her word, but the market value of her word has recently dropped. The stallion stoops down next to Jitters and addresses his friend. "It's me, Cotton. I was wondering when you'd get back, bud. I've still got your share for you. I'm gonna give it to you, and then you're gonna tell me what you've been up to."

Jitters says nothing, as per usual.

"I'm holding you to that," Cotton says, levitating something out of his rags. It is clearly a syringe, clearly half empty. Octavia feels like asking what Cotton plans to do with it, but her first suspicions are confirmed as Cotton injects what remains of the syringe into Jitters. "C'mon bud, come back to us."

"What was tha-"

Jitters returns rather suddenly.

"Aaach! Dernit! My achin' 'ead!" The stallion cries, suddenly back onto his hooves. He is actually pretty tall when he isn't a slumped over mess. "Fuck! Cotton! Ah've been drinkin'!"

"Did you want an award?" Cotton asks. The two stallions continue to talk, or one continues to talk while the other shouts, despite Octavia's standing right next to them. "Everyone was asking about you, bud. What exactly happened at the club?"

It is painfully clear to Octavia what club Cotton must be referring to.

"Awgh, shiiiit! The club!" Jitters grabs his head with his hooves and rattles it around. "We gotta skip town! Fuck!" Little by little, Jitters speech becomes a little more fluent. Whatever Cotton injected him with seems to Octavia to be incredibly potent. She doubts it's legal.

"Yeah, feel free to explain yourself at any time, bud," Cotton says, but Jitters is off in his own little world. He can only grunt and turn back to Octavia. "Of all the junkies in Canterlot, I got this lug as my running mate. I dunno your story missy, but take my advice and stay away from idiots."

"Okay?" Octavia notices that Cotton was missing a couple of teeth. For what reason, she doesn't care to ask. She deems it fit to assume neither of these ponies is all there upstairs. "So, what did you give him?"

"Ambrosia."

Octavia doesn't know what that is, or at least not in this context; however, she is smart enough to put together that this Ambrosia is probably not medicine and surely not legal. Cotton's prior complaints suddenly make more sense.

"You gave him drugs?"

"He's a junkie," Cotton says, very plainly. "If we don't get our fix, we go down hard. You're clearly clean, so you wouldn't get it. Do yourself a favor and go home."

"Cotton, we gotta go!" Jitters shouts, finally paying those around him some heed. "We can't stay here!"

"We aren't uprooting, bud," Cotton says back to him, forgetting Octavia again. "Now what's got you so rattled? Out with it."

"I saw them kill him! He's dead man, dead!"

"Huh, who?" Cotton asks the question Octavia wants to ask herself, feeling herself slip even further down the rabbit hole.

"It was Grainy Mead! They killed him!"

Exhibit I

"It was fucking chaos, man! I was keeping an eye on the east door like Miss Scratch told me to when fucking chaos broke out, man! There was like six, no, seven or eight stallions busting out of the place all of a sudden. It had to be eight, yeah, cuz that fancy royal guard was there too! The one from the Crystal Empire! He's the only guard though, so the others are trying to shake him off or take him out or something! I get the door shut and secured behind them just like Miss Scratch told me I should if that kind of thing happens, and when I turn around that guard pony is on the ground with a bloody head. Chariot is standing over him with a fucking pipe, so I kinda figured Chariot musta taken him out."

"Chariot?" Octavia asks, breaking the flow of the narrative. Cotton immediately shushes her.

"Oh man, they were all pretty pissed after that. They were yelling this way and that about what to do, but I couldn't follow what was going on. I was a fucking mess, but it was all a fucking mess. Then Grainy Mead is saying something and Chariot is yelling at him and yelling at him, but Grainy just keeps trying to say something or whatever. Chariot hoists that fucking pipe again and cracks Grainy across the skull, but Grainy isn't wearing a helmet like that guard was so he goes down and doesn't even budge an inch.

"Everyone is screaming that he's dead and that and Chariot is yelling at them to get moving and before I know it I'm running too and I get to The Seventh House, but I forgot that Claret was running the place now and then all of a sudden I'm here and that's all I remember!" Jitters finishes his story all in one breath, still feeling the rush of having his addiction reintroduced into his system. It is his blood, more or less.

"You're telling me Chariot killed Grainy? He just up and offed him like that?" Cotton asks, a bit more frantic than previously. Octavia notices that Jitters' story has gotten to him. Octavia is shaken too, having just heard that a pony was killed last night during the chaos at the club. "He just straight up murdered him? Was he high?!"

"You know Chariot," Jitters says, shaking from fear now instead of high. "He doesn't do anything unless he's high. He did it though, I saw it with my own two eyes. Chariot killed Grainy Mead."

"Shit... shitshitshitshitshit!" Cotton yells, kicking some trash aside in frustration. He wants to tear the whole alley apart, but his fear is so pure and complete that he hasn't got the strength to pull that off. He mutters more expletives to himself, matching the cadence of Jitters right across from him. Octavia watches them. She is also afraid, but she doesn't know of what; however, there is nothing quite so frightening as the unknown.

"Who are these ponies?" she finally musters the strength to ask. "Who is Chariot? Who is Grainy Mead? What does all this mean?"

"Shit, she's right," Cotton says all of a sudden. "It seems like Byjove doesn't know about all this yet. If he knew Chariot killed his guy... oh man, this is not good."

"B-b-but we gotta tell him." Jitters is trembling. He doesn't want to tell this Byjove pony, Octavia can tell. It is painfully clear.

"I'm not telling him!" Cotton says, trembling just as much as his running mate. "He'll kill me!"

"He'll kill me too!"

Octavia watches the two pathetic junkies shiver where they stand. It occurs to her, only right at that very moment in time does it occur to her, but the one simple truth about all of this became suddenly quite plain to her. Yes, just like the nose on her face or the blood in her veins or the knot in her gut, she notices that very simple thing: she has been in over her head from the very beginning. The point at which she would have even been able to glimpse the top is far out of view. She is very much confused, and also very, very, very much involved now.

Even so, she makes it a point to ask a question.

"Jitters, you said Vinyl Scratch told you to watch the back door?"

"Y-yeah. If I do that while deals are going down, she gives me some spending money," Jitters says, almost happy to be able to talk about something other than the impending doom hanging over his head.

"So she knows this Chariot and this Byjove and Grainy Mead?"

"Well, yeah." Jitters gives a very easy answer. There really isn't even a question about Vinyl knowing who those ponies are. "She knows all about everything. She's basically the top dog on her side of the block."

"Then she should know all about what went down," Octavia says, revealing the inner machinations of her thought process. A plan, of some variety, is taking shape. "She could tell this Byjove about this Chariot."

"Whoa, there's no way Miss Scratch would agree to that," Jitters says. "Stoking the fire between Byjove and Chariot wouldn't be good for business. There's no way she'd agree to spill the beans. You don't know her like we do."

Nopony has ever said such a thing to Octavia before in her entire life, not about Vinyl. She opens her mouth to argue, but stops. She meant to tell Jitters he is wrong, but she notices that he is not wrong. He is right.

"No, I don't know her like you do." It is easy to admit, especially in the wake of her current pitfall. "But I do know her." Just like that, Octavia turns and leaves the alley behind. Jitters and Cotton don't stop her, unconcerned for who they assume is just a bystander in all of this. Octavia is free to take what she knows and go home, so she heads towards that home; however, tonight it does not feel like a homecoming. She is heading towards the apartment where Vinyl and herself live. She is heading towards conflict.

Exhibit J

"Vinyl!"

Vinyl finds it strange that, for the first time in what probably had to be an incredibly long time, Octavia was the one coming home after her. She hadn't known what to even do with herself without her good buddy at home to pal around with. She had just been on the verge of making a booty call when Octavia burst in. She finds herself somewhat disappointed.

"Yo, what's the haps?"

"'What's the haps?'" Octavia parrots her, which has never been a good sign. Vinyl knows what parroting means, especially parroting slang. Octavia would never use "haps," not even under the threat of death most likely. "'What's the haps?!'"

"Everything alri-"

"Who is Grainy Mead?" Octavia says with emphasis on each word so as to grab the flaky unicorn's attention; however, the name in her query is enough to illicit a physical response from Vinyl. She stutters for a second, unsure which question she wants to ask back first.

"How do you-why are you-what-why do you wanna know?" Vinyl finally manages to complete a query, although she kicks herself for it immediately.

"Because he died last night, didn't he?" Octavia is right on point with her attacks.

"Oooh, ah... you know about that?" Vinyl wants to know why and how, but she isn't in a position of power currently. "Look, Octavia, just simmer down."

"Simmer down?" There are no grounds under which Octavia would even consider simmering down right now. "Vinyl, you're covering up a murder! As well as a kidnapping! On top of a drug deal! Who is this Grainy Mead pony?"

"Octavia, girl, I don't know how much you know, but it's better you don't know more than you already do." She looks her friend in the eye, but the earth pony refuses to give any ground.

"Vinyl, who is he?" She is firm, just like always. Even her anger runs cool.

"I'm trying to prevent a fucking gang war, Octavia! I don't want you getting involved."

"Too late for that, Vinyl. Waaaay too late for that!" The two mares are in a deadlock, but Octavia isn't about to give up. "If you don't tell me, I will find this Byjove character and tell him everything that happened!"

"No! Octavia, no! You don't want to do that!" Vinyl tries to plead, but she is not fast enough for Octavia's temper currently. Her friend starts to turn to go, but Vinyl gets down and starts to genuinely plead with her. "No, nonononono no! Octavia, just listen for a sec! I'll answer any question you want to know. Don't go, just don't go!"

Octavia stops. She spins around reiterates her question.

"Who is Grainy Mead?"

"He's Byjove's second in command, his closest personal confidant. He was basically Byjove's favorite pony ever. He didn't do anything without Grainy! He didn't even go to the bathroom without him."

"And who is Byjove? Who is he exactly?"

"He controls most of the dealers in Canterlot," Vinyl says, getting back onto her hooves. "And he was supposed to control all of them as of last night, but..."

"Things went south."

"Because the guards showed up!" The whole disaster hinged upon that factor, the thing that shook the whole situation to its core. "Chariot was going to hand everything he had left over to Byjove's control before he skipped town."

"So Chariot is a rival drug lord?"

"I dunno if 'drug lord' is the right term for him, but he controls a sizable fraction of the dealers too. There's a lot of heat on him though, so he's looking to move on to someplace else. His relationship with Byjove was shaky at best before the meeting, but this was supposed to be one last show of good faith so Byjove would give him a good price and also put in a good word for Chariot and get him started in his next life, so to speak."

"But he's not going to do that if he finds out that Chariot killed his best friend, I guess?" Octavia hit the nail on the head, getting a solemn nod out of Vinyl. Everything made a lot of sense now, even if everything was still terrible. At least she could wrap her head around it; however, there was still one, tiny, little thread dangling off of Vinyl's explanation. "Byjove has to know Grainy Mead is dead."

"Yeah, naturally."

"Well, no, not naturally." Octavia felt an odd twinge of caution creep up. "He must know that Grainy was murdered. If he doesn't already know it was Chariot, who does he think did it?"

"..."

"Vinyl!"

"... This was the one thing I absolutely, positively didn't want to tell you about." Vinyl breaks eye contact. She stares over in the direction of her room. "If you don't want to know..."

"Tell me." Octavia had thrown caution to the wind quite some time ago. Besides, the pieces were already falling into place in her head. She doesn't want confirmation, but she dumbly seeks it out.

"... Byjove wants vengeance for Grainy Mead. He blames the heat on Chariot for the guards showing up at the deal last night, so he told him that if he didn't produce Grainy's killer the deal was off. We needed a scapegoat, and we had already captured him... so..."

"Byjove thinks Shining Armor killed Grainy Mead." Octavia couldn't stay quiet. Her dumb seeking gives way to her own dark deductions, and they do not stop coming. "You're going to let Chariot hand Shining Armor over to Byjove, so Byjove can kill Shining Armor." The house isn't a prison, it's death row.

Vinyl tries to say something to Octavia, but she misses her chance when the hysteric mare tears out the door. Her immediate fear should be that Octavia is going to find Byjove and spill the beans, but Vinyl knows Octavia better than that. Her secret is safe, for now.

What does concern her is that she is no longer in the mood for a booty call. She needs some special cheering up, the kind of irresponsible thrill that a stranger can provide; however, she also doesn't feel like going out to find somepony. All seems lost for sexy times, until she has a thought.