Of Bands and Battles

"Well," Wing Beat winced at the discordant noise tearing through the concert venue, "they're certainly enthusiastic."

"Is that pony having a seizure or what?" Thunder asked.

The Battle's opening band, Snoutbleed, had begun playing less than three minutes ago. Their singer had promptly fallen to the floor and was now rolling and thrashing around as he screamed into the microphone.

Power Chord glanced at the list of bands slated to play that evening. There were five more between this band and My Metal Pony. "It's going to be a long night."

"One hundred and five, one hundred and six," Bass Groove rattled off in a monotone, counting the number of times the current band had played the same three chords, "One hundred and... oh, wow, they changed the third one that time!"

"Wanna get some cider?" Power asked his brother. "I think we could all use it."

"C'mon guys," Thunder said, "you know we don't drink before a show." He held a straight face for several seconds under his bandmates' incredulous looks, then broke down with a laugh. "Buck yes, if all the bands are going to be like this, we'll need a lot of cider.

"Huh, these guys are pretty good," Wing bobbed her head in time with the music. Deadpony was the fourth band of the evening, and if they didn't play quite as hard and heavy as the others, they were undoubtedly the most musical band to so far.

Power Chord finished draining his mug and clapped a hoof on the bar for another.

"What, you nervous?" Thunder asked Power. "They're not bad, but they're no match for us."

Power shrugged. "Yeah, just nerves, I guess. We've never done the Battle before."

Thunder looked to his other side, where Bass Groove was staring blankly into his own glass. Thunder waved a hoof in front of his face.

"Wha?" Bass's head snapped up. Thunder sighed at his bleary, unfocused eyes.

"Might wanna take it easy," Thunder suggested, "we're playing in an hour or so."

"What, you think I can't handle it?" Bass spat.

Thunder bit down on his temper. "I'm sure you can handle it, but if we go up there too drunk to play, we're going to look really bucking stupid."

Bass snorted and took another swig. Thunder shook his head and took a drink of his own.

The Battle's sixth band finished tearing up the venue with their own special brand of metal. They began packing up their instruments to halfhearted cheers and a smattering of applause.

Six bands had played so far, and only two had been worth the air they used to do it. It was now well after midnight, and My Metal Pony was feeling the effects of the late hours and the alcohol they'd consumed.

"C'mon guys, we're up," Thunder stood and stumbled slightly as he led the way to the stage.

"Alright, jus' a second," Power slurred. He picked up the pitcher they were sharing and carried it up to the stage with him. They didn't need to worry about setting up their own gear—that's what roadies were for—so they had nothing to do but drink for the next several minutes as instruments and amps were plugged in and tested.

At long last, Thunder took his place center-stage. The crowd, most if not all of whom knew My Metal Pony, roared their approval.

"Alright, bucks and fillies," Thunder began. The room seemed to swim in his view. "We've had a lot of bands play tonight." He paused a moment to let the crowd anticipate what he might say, what compliments he might pay to their opponents. "Well, we are not those bands!"

A combination of laughter and cheering met this pronouncement.

"We are," he dropped his voice into the growl he used to perform, "My Metal Pony, and we are here to melt your bucking muzzles off! Wing Beat!"

The pegasus knocked her drumsticks together to set the rhythm.

Too slow, Thunder thought with a grimace, but there was nothing for it.

...

Damn, Thunder thought as the audience applauded. They were still having the same issues they'd had at practice: the music was correct, more or less, but the spark just wasn't there.

He glanced behind him. Power Chord seemed to be having trouble standing up straight, though luckily he could still shred like a bucking monster. Bass's eyes were dull, his attention clearly elsewhere.

Well, this is bucking fantastic. "I think you all know this next one!" he roared, "Pink Fluffy Unicorns—!" he nosed the mic so that it faced the audience.

"Dancing on Your Grave!" came the response.

It was a crowd favorite, but they didn't seem quite able to engage them this time. A halfhearted mosh pit started and dispersed within a few seconds, a couple of ponies stomped or pumped their hooves to the music, but overall it lacked the energy and impact that their music should have. A few painful minutes later, the last notes faded into nothingness.

"Thank you!" Thunder shouted into the silence. "Once again, we are My Metal Pony! We've got Power Chord on guitar!"

Power strummed a few notes as a greeting.

"Bass Groove on bass!"

Bass simply lifted a hoof to acknowledge the crowd.

"Wing Beat on drums!"

Wing at least pretended to be engaged, and produced a whirlwind of noise with her drum set.

"I am Thunder Growl, and this next song is called Black Crystal!"

...

In this manner, My Metal Pony struggled through the most lackluster performance they'd given in years. When the last few claps died away, Thunder thanked the crowd once more for coming out and led the way off the stage. Their pitcher of cider was long since empty, and he thought they could all use another one. Maybe another one each.

They settled in at the bar. It had been a bad set, but it was over. Now all that was left was to wait for the judges to declare My Metal Pony the winner of the Battle so that they could all go home.

"What's taking so long?" Power grumbled after a while. Surely it didn't take nearly fifteen minutes to decide that they were better than the crappy local bands they'd gone up against tonight.

"Looks like they're still talking," Wing said, looking to the back of the room where the three judges sat.

"Come on already, my head hurts like Tartarus," Thunder complained.

"There we go," Wing said as one of the judges stood.

The judge, an earth pony with what seemed to be a report card for a cutie mark, walked up to the front of the room and stepped onstage.

"Well, mares and gentlestallions," he began in a deep, rich voice. He did not seem to be feeling the effects of the late hour at all, and was sober as... well, sober as a judge. "we've had quite a Battle tonight, haven't we? Let's have a round of applause for our competitors."

The audience—what was left of it—obliged, stomping their hooves loudly on the wooden floor.

"It was a close match tonight. Very close. I apologize for the delay, but my fellow judges and I were having trouble deciding who should take this round."

The members of My Metal Pony shared disbelieving looks.

"However, after a great deal of debate, I am pleased to announce our winners. The winner of this preliminary round of the Eighth Equestrian Battle of the Bands is..."

"For alicorns' sake, skip the dramatic pause," Thunder mumbled. His stomach was turning somersaults. However badly they'd played, he'd never imagined that they could lose in the first round. If it really was that close...

"My Metal Pony!"

As one, the four bandmates breathed a relieved sigh.

"Let's get the buck out of here," Power said. The others could not have agreed more.

"So, what the Tartarus happened last night?" Wing asked the others as they sat in their hotel room.

Power groaned and buried his head under his forelegs. Thunder wasn't sure if it was because he was embarrassed or because he had a headache. Thunder massaged his own throbbing temples as he thought of how to respond.

"We barely scraped through, and we weren't even against the bands who were supposed to be real competition for us. We sucked," he said frankly.

"But why?" Wing pressed. "We don't suck."

"You guys were right," Bass whimpered. "I wasn't ready for this."

Thunder sighed. He'd really hoped that this could wait until they weren't so hungover. "None of us were," he said. "We've all got so much horseapples going on in our lives right now that we can't focus on the music."

"You're fine, though," Power said, zeroing in on what he meant. "Cacophony didn't get you."

Thunder shook his head. "We're a band. More than that, we're friends. Your problems are my problems, and we need to figure out what we're going to do about them."

"Oh, Thunder," Wing said with a smile, "that's... probably the sappiest bucking thing I've ever heard you say."

Thunder snorted. "I think Ponyville's a bad influence on me."

"Alright, you sound like you've got something in mind," Power said.

"Yeah, and you're not going to like it." Thunder said. "We need to get you guys some help."

"No," Bass snapped. "I said it to Power in the hospital, and I'm saying it to you now. I'm not some bucking nutjob, and I don't need a shrink."

"Bass, cool it," Wing said. More calmly, she turned to Thunder. "So you're saying we should see, what, a therapist? A psychiatrist?"

Thunder took a deep breath and let it out. Getting angry wouldn't help, or so he told himself. "Berry was telling me that there's a place in Canterlot. The princesses set it up for Cacophony's victims. Apparently a lot of ponies were pretty messed up after it took them."

"You think it'll help?" Wing asked. "I gotta say, I wouldn't mind getting rid of these nightmares."

"You're going along with this?" Power said. "Well, I'm not having any nightmares."

"No," Thunder retorted, "just panic attacks almost every day."

"See," Bass shot at his brother, "you were all for it when it was just me. Not the same when it's somepony telling you that you're bucked in the head, is it?"

"Look—" Thunder slammed a hoof down on the table, leaving a nick in the wood— "the next round of the Battle is a month from now. If we play like we did last night, we'll get laughed off the stage. That means we've got a month to get our shit together. If you've got a better idea, I'd love to hear it."

Wing Beat looked around at her bandmates uncomfortably. "I think we should try it. What have we got to lose?"

"You mean besides our reputations, our pride, our fans, and our friends?" Bass spat. "What would ponies think of us if they find out we're nuts?"

"I'll go with you, Wing," Thunder said over his rant. Bass sputtered to a stop.

"What did you say?" Wing asked hopefully.

"I said I'd go with you," Thunder repeated uncomfortably. He scratched his mane nervously. "Y'know, moral support or whatever."

"Yeah, or whatever," Wing Beat laughed. "Thank you, I really appreciate that."

Power Chord looked from Thunder to Wing Beat. He evidently decided that he couldn't let Thunder show him up in front of his marefriend, because he abruptly declared, "I'll go, too."

"You're kidding," Bass said. "Just a minute ago you were saying you didn't need to."

"Maybe Thunder's right," Power answered. "Come on, the rest of us are all doing it. You should come too."

"No. No way," Bass shook his head.

"It doesn't mean you're weak, or crazy, or any of that shit," Thunder said, repeating something Berry had told him back in Ponyville. "If you get sick, you go see a doctor. It's the same thing."

"Forget it," Bass growled back at him. "I'm not going. Drop it."

Thunder gritted his teeth angrily. "Fine," he answered, "the rest of us will go, you stay here and rot."

"Thunder!" Wing reprimanded him. "Bass," she said more calmly, "if the rest of us go check this place out, and it seems like it'll help, will you at least think about coming with us next time?"

"You're going to sound like a naggy little filly if you say no," Power warned him.

"Gee, thanks for the support, bro," Bass spat. "Fine, you guys check this place out, I'll think about it."

"When are we going?" Power asked.

Wing shrugged. "No time like the present, right? We've got nothing going for the next month."

"Get some breakfast and head to Canterlot, then?" Power asked.

Thunder nodded. "Thanks, guys."

They left Bass to his grumbling.