1:30 A.M.

Inside the "Hoof to Hoof" appartment complex, in appartment 13K's third room, lay a sleeping unicorn. on the walls of the room were posters of the infamous DJ-P0N3 hung, and in the other side a fight was going about. The Unicorn in bed was getting his rare, and well needed rest. He rarely slept on account of his parent's fighting. The fighting happened at night, and in the day as well. All the time, and on all the things. Every now and then, The colt's father would channel his rage into his son. Both parents drank, both smoked. It was a battle just for food. But currently the colt was dreaming of a crowd of thousands, cheering for his music. In the front row were the highest class, even them enjoying the beat of his art. But mid song he froze. This part of the dream he dreaded the most, but loved the most. A blue-maned Unicorn stood up. Instead of the usual challenge, he woke up. A red mark on his body told him what happened. He looked up to see his father, bottle in hoof. "Get up." the father barked, then hit him again for coaxing. In the dark, the colt sat there, taking the barrage of hits, with a tear rolling down his face, splashing onto his pillow. After Twelve minutes of beating, the father gave up. And in another two, The colt was packing his things, which were few. Thew were his brush, his red DJ goggles, a few records, and his portable turntable. He left, his goggles on, the rest in the turntables storage compartment. He knew this would be the last time he'd see this place, that his eyes would tear in here.

About three miles away the colt set up his turntable. He figured he should try to get some money to get further away. While setting up, his first passerby sat down, looked at him and wagged it's tail. "Hey little guy" the colt said, patting the passerby on the head. Before him was a stray puppy. "Huh, you don't have any tags. You lost?" he asked, knowing there would be no response. When the colt had started his first record, the dog curled up at his hooves. Even the poor tossed a few Bits his way. When he had finished, a large crowd had formed. The puppy had now hid under the bench that the colt was using to sit during break.

At the end of the day, the colt had made one hundred forty nine and a half bits. Enough for two First-Class train tickets to Ponyville. But he was conflicted on whether to go and leave his only friend behind. As his hung low in thought, a voice broke his concentration. "Hey,Can you use that turntable?" it asked. "Yeah I ca-" he started before he saw who it was coming from. With white fur glimmering in the streetlights, Blue mane as well, Goggles pushed up under the horn, was the colt's hero, DJ-P0N3. "You gotta name?" she asked, extending a hoof. "Ei-Eight-Track." he responded. "Your parents know that you're out this late?" she asked, looking at the stars. "They really don't care." He said, petting the dog. "That's cool." she said. "No I mean they don't care about me." the colt finished. "I sort of ran away." He said, picking up the shivering dog. "Oh..." the mare said, sitting next to him on the bench. "Show me." she said. "Huh?" Eight asked. "You said you could use that turntable. Show me." She finished. "Okay." he said, setting up. He picked the one song, his best,he had not played in public. His horn glowed, and he started playing. When he finished, the DJ's head was still bobbing with the now silent beat. He nearly passed out, his hero sitting here was amazing, but his hero liking something he did was awesome. "Damn, you can scratch. Listen, I'm here on business, and I'm heading out. If maybe you and your dog here were to slip into our boxcar, with this, nopony would mind." the mare said, handing him a card. She patted him on the back, got up and left. "Were going." he said, lifting his gear with his magic, dog in his hooves, and followed the mare.

"You need a name little guy." 8-Track said, looking at the dog that lay at his hooves. "Jack, Lucky, Blitz, Snare?" the dog seemed to like Blitz. No one in the DJ's boxcar seemed to notice the Colt, or his dog. But when his host waltzed over to him, the smell of expensive liquor nearby. "This colt, this colt right here, he is fucking amazing." She said, collapsing on the couch.