Chapters No, Miss Scratch, I expect you to Dine
No, Miss Scratch, I expect you to Dine
Vinyl Scratch was not your average unicorn. Well, that kind of goes without saying, but that’s only if you know her well.
She was known, though, as the esteemed musician DJ-PON3, one of the most sought after DJs in Manehattan, but few actually knew her. If they did, they would be privy to the knowledge that, in the eyes of a certain government agency, DJing was a side job.
The Canterlot Intelligence Agency was probably one of the least known and respected agencies within the Equestrian government. A group that consisted mostly of techs and analyzers, the CIA was considered to be good only for knowing what kind of coffee a griffon dignitary was drinking and whether or not the Prench ambassador was wearing socks that evening. Anypony that had dreams of fieldwork usually transferred to the Night-Guard or Dawn-Patrol.
But not Vinyl Scratch. She saw an opportunity.
Making music was her passion, but her parents had demanded she get an actual job. So when her friend (and kinda sorta colt-friend) Neon Lights let slip that he was applying to the CIA, Vinyl took a chance and asked him about it.
Neon had a habit of going on long-winded monologues when the mood struck him and asking him a question held the chance that the mood would strike him. This instance was one of those times and while Vinyl had been bored half to death, she saw a loophole.
She and Neon applied together and, due to some bribery and a few favors, were trained as field agents. Now, the training of a field agent in the CIA was hardly different from the training of a Night-Guard, but a Night-Guard had a better chance of actually using their skills. But this was exactly what Vinyl was counting on.
Following her graduation from the training school, she put together a carefully worded paper and submitted it to her CO. The paper said that Vinyl had skills as a DJ and her skills could be best put to work in intelligence gathering. She could be implanted in a city and, using her skills, work parties where less than savory characters might show up. And since no pony ever pays mind to the hired help, she could potentially gleam little nuggets of information that could go a long way towards the betterment of society.
It took all of ten minutes for her CO to read the paper and call her out on her gambit, but the old mare with the Trottingham accent said she was impressed by the unicorn’s gall and the way she had executed her plan. A month later, Vinyl had been set up in Manehatten with a slush fund to pay for her equipment and her living expenses. Considering that Vinyl already possessed all the necessaries for her DJ-ing, she had little trouble finding an apartment that would suit her needs.
And so, from there it went; Vinyl built up her name and reputation in the city by playing anywhere she could. Within a year she was getting job offers at least once a week. And while it wasn’t often she overheard something she shouldn’t, Vinyl heard and passed along enough to keep her boss happy and a government paycheck in the mail every month.
Life was good for a time. But one day, Vinyl received a package along with her paycheck. Inside the package were a dress and a letter. The letter instructed Vinyl to squeeze herself into the dress by any means necessary and use the provided invitation to get herself into a party tomorrow evening. The party was to comprise of Manehattan’s elite, among them ponies with connections to Manehattan’s mafia syndicate.
She was to mingle and make small talk, seeing if she could gleam anything useful from any of the guests. But there was one pony she was warned about in particular: a hitter and high-level member of the mob that used her talent as a musician to go about unnoticed. The writer of the letter didn’t hesitate to point out the similarities to Vinyl. If possible, Vinyl was to get in this mare’s good graces.
The mare’s name was Octavia Philharmonica.
******************
Vinyl sighed as she stood inside the lavish high-rise apartment, listening to run-of-the-mill classical music playing on speakers hung in the upper corners of the room. The unicorn was way out of her element. A thin green dress covered in glitter clung to her body, the lack of a back ensuring that whenever somepony opened the door to the balcony she got a chill. She had a glass clutched in one hoof, half-filled with watered down champagne.
Vinyl looked around the room again, her magenta eyes roving over the gold and black decor with boredom. This place was so… bleh. It was gaudy and uninspired, decorated with the intention of showing off how rich and tasteless the owner was. And the music was terrible: a simple tune that didn’t go anywhere, like the musician fell asleep while playing.
Vinyl did appreciate older music - she had a fondness for string instruments - but she preferred it to be lively, or dramatic, or… anything but what was currently playing. Whoever was in charge of the play list should have snuck in something jazzier or maybe an orchestra piece of some sort. Just… something .
Of course, the reason Vinyl was so concerned with the music selection was that if it had been any good, she could've at least listened to it instead of the dull conversations the other attendees were having. The talk was either entirely pointless drivel or words so vague only a pony who knew exactly what the other meant would get it. So much for hearing interesting tidbits.
So, in short, Vinyl was chilly, thoroughly not entertained, bored, and above all, not drunk.
The unicorn sighed and meandered over to the punch bowl to refill her glass, if only so she would be doing something. She took her time, gripping the ladle and bringing it up. She was just about to tip the ladle’s opaque liquid contents into her glass when she noticed somepony had put lemon slices in the bowl.
Vinyl felt a faint smile on her lips as she opted to put the ladle back in the bowl and try to snag a lemon slice. That way, she could have an excuse for making a sour face.
Vinyl managed to busy herself for a minute or two, trying to find the best lemon slice and coax it into the ladle. She giggled softly, quickly checking to make sure no pony was watching her. Finally, Vinyl selected a lemon slice she wanted and brought it and a fair amount of the watered down champagne up in the ladle. She refilled her glass, taking care to ensure the lemon slice went in, and placed the ladle back in the bowl.
She made her way to a table not far away and sat down, placing her glass in front of her. She took a moment to stare at the glass of watered down champagne, wondering why anypony was at this party when the music was terrible and all the drinks did was give you a headache.
“This seat taken?” a voice suddenly asked, startling Vinyl from her musings.
She looked to the source of the voice and had to bite back a gasp. Before her stood a mare who seemed to have an air of refinement. Her grey coat went well with her long black mane, which cascaded down her back like an obsidian waterfall. Her violet eyes matched her silky purple dress, which had a slit on the side that went up far enough to show off her cutie mark, a purple musical note.
“Hello?” the mare said. “Are we all here, dear?”
“Huh?” Vinyl said dumbly before snapping back to reality again. “Oh, right, uh…” the unicorn tripped over her words, trying to compose herself. “Uh, the seat isn’t taken.”
The grey mare smiled. “Ah, thought not.” she laughed softly, the joke being that there wasn’t a single pony sitting at the table or any table nearby save Vinyl.
The mare pulled out a chair and sat down, sighing softly, apparently glad to be off her hooves. She smiled at Vinyl, who was becoming more and more nervous by the moment. This was Octavia, the mare her superiors had warned her about. According to the rather brief file they had sent over, Octavia was a ruthless killer, not shy about gunning down her enemies in broad daylight in the streets. And according to the file, she was also one of the best cello players in Equestria. She had even played the Grand Galloping Gala once, although she had refused the offer to play it again.
Octavia once again startled Vinyl from her thoughts with a question. “So, what brings you here?”
Vinyl blinked a few times before her brain managed to comprehend what Octavia had asked. “Here? Aw, you know, just… trying to rub a few elbows.”
“Is that so?” Octavia said, a faint smile on her lips. “And what do you do that makes you want to rub elbows here?”
“I’m a… musician.”
This seemed to pique the mare’s interest. “Really, what sort of music?”
Vinyl hesitated, but decided there was no harm in saying what her real passion was, so long as she left out the part about being a government agent.
“Electronic mostly. I work in clubs dropping beats and getting ponies dancing.”
Octavia’s face was near unreadable. “Hm, interesting…” she paused for a moment. “What’s your name, by the way? I might have heard your work.”
“Uh, well, my stage name is DJ-PON3, but my real name is Scratch. Vinyl Scratch.” Vinyl threw in what she hoped was a suave smile, trying to make a joke of her introduction.
It seemed to work, as Octavia giggled. “Well then miss Scratch, my name is Octavia Philharmonica.” she extended a hoof. “I’m not sure if you’ve heard of me.”
Octavia Philharmonica
Cello Player
Vinyl took the hoof and shook it. “Actually, I have heard of you. You played the Grand Galloping Gala once, right?”
Octavia took her hoof back and nodded. “That’s right, I did. Dreadfully boring affair all things told. I had to play a pre-selected piece that was just terribly bland. The only upside to the whole affair was what a disaster it turned into.”
Vinyl nodded. “Yeah, I heard it was really something to see.”
“More interesting than this place.” Octavia added, glancing irritably at a speaker. “If I had my cello with me, I’d show them some real music.”
Vinyl nodded. “Yeah, I heard one of your pieces on the radio once. Much better than this.” in truth, Vinyl had actually listened to a sample of the mare’s music on her record player in her apartment. It had been part of the package she’d been sent.
Octavia smiled. “You're too kind, but if I might say, quite correct.” she glanced at Vinyl’s glass. “Pardon me for asking, but do you actually enjoy drinking that stuff?”
“Honestly? No.”
Octavia glanced around like she was worried somepony was watching and then hiked her dress up a bit. Vinyl’s eyes nearly popped from their sockets before she noticed Octavia was just extracting a silver flask from a small belt she had hidden beneath her dress. The mare opened the flask and offered it to Vinyl.
“Have a sip if you’d like.”
Vinyl hesitantly took the flask and put it to her lips, allowing a small amount of the liquid inside to trickle into her mouth. She swallowed, the liquid burning her throat. Straight scotch.
“Thanks,” Vinyl said a bit hoarsely, handing Octavia back her flask.
“Anytime.” The grey mare took a swig from the flask before closing it and hiding it back in her dress.
There was a brief silence between the two, which was once more broken by Octavia and her questions.
“Do you want to get out of here? Go get something to eat or…” Octavia shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe we could go listen to some music. Or make our own if you feel like it. Anything but staying here.”
Vinyl took a moment to calm herself down. This was actually a lot easier than her superiors had made it out to be. Her target had just invited her to leave the party together. Now all she had to do was slowly work her way into Octavia’s life and see what she could find out.
“With you? Of course.” Vinyl said, happy things were going so swimmingly.
***********
Vinyl’s breath came to her in ragged gasps. She wrestled with Octavia, but the other mare was far stronger than one would think. Octavia succeeded in their little test of strength and threw Vinyl back against a wall, only to pounce on her in an instant.
Vinyl let out a drunken, breathy laugh as she felt Octavia kiss her neck, the earth pony mare’s hot breath and soft lips tickling her fur. Vinyl then let out a moan as Octavia’s hooves began roaming her body, seeking out its weak points.
Octavia was so engrossed in what she was doing with her hooves that it allowed Vinyl the opportunity to shove the other mare off of herself. Vinyl followed this up by quickly shimmying herself out of her dress and kicking the pile of fabric aside. Octavia, panting, responded in kind, pulling off her own dress and kicking it aside.
The mare stood at the edge of the bed, daring Vinyl to come closer with a few raises of her eyebrows. The unicorn grinned and ran forward, intent on tackling Octavia onto the bed. The other mare had other plans, however, and pivoted her body as Vinyl reached her, grabbing the unicorn and using her momentum to throw her onto the bed.
Octavia was on Vinyl once more, kissing and nipping. The unicorn soon grabbed hold on the mare’s head and pulled her into a deep, tongue-probing kiss.
They broke apart and Octavia let out a laugh. She kissed Vinyl softly on the lips again before she began trailing more kisses down the unicorn’s body…
************
Vinyl groaned as consciousness returned to her. The sunlight steaming in from the balcony was like white-hot pain to her eyes, which in turn seemed to make the pounding in her head worse.
She rolled over so the sun wasn’t shining on her and groggily opened her eyes. She nearly bit her tongue when she saw what was a scant few inches form her face.
Octavia laid beside her, the earth pony sound asleep, her black mane a tangled mess. Vinyl dared not breathe too loudly as she slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position and took stock of herself and the room.
The large bed in which she and Octavia lay was disheveled: blankets mussed and tangled, pillows thrown about, most on the floor. Joining the pillows on the floor was Vinyl’s dress, crumpled and forgotten. Also among the items on the floor were a few bottles, some still half filled with their intoxicating liquids, surrounded by a few stains. The thing that made Vinyl cringe a little was the big rubber dildo that had landed inside a pie. A blueberry pie.
It came back to Vinyl a little now. She and Octavia had gone to a little diner and gotten plenty of food to go, stopping off at a liquor store on the way to Octavia’s hotel. When they had gotten inside, they had eaten the food and drank a fair amount of the alcohol until they spontaneously began kissing. Vinyl wasn’t sure who started it, but judging by the aching of her body, the taste that lingered on her tongue, and the dildo in the pie, she had a good idea of where it had led.
Vinyl tried to get her breathing under control, trying not to imagine how fucked she was, having slept with the very mare that she had been sent to spy on.
The only upside was that Vinyl knew from college that she was bisexual, so she had no need to panic about betraying her sexuality.
She did however; need to panic about explaining this to Neon.
And, just as Vinyl managed to regain control of her breathing, a loud sound startled her so much she physically leapt into the air.
Of Techno and Thompsons
Author's Note
My take on the classic OctaScratch fic.
I had this idea for a while and just needed to get it down before someone else did.
Welcome to the Jungle
Vinyl landed back on the bed with enough force to startle Octavia awake. The gray mare bolted upwards, hooves reaching for the nightstand beside her, before she spotted Vinyl and visibly relaxed.
“Ah, startled me there.” Octavia said, chuckling softly before yawning and stretching. “So, how are you this fine morning?” she asked with a smirk.
The question and accompanying smirk probably had to do with the fact that Vinyl was panting like she’d run a marathon. She glared at Octavia.
“Why the hell did you set the alarm to go off like that?” she demanded.
“I’m a heavy sleeper.” Octavia said as she yawned again. “Especially after a night with such a happy ending.” she added with a lecherous wink.
Vinyl groaned and rubbed her temples, the throbbing in her head becoming prominent again.
“You alright there, dear?” Octavia asked as she slipped out of the bed.
“No.” Vinyl answered irritably. “My head feels like a it just got a visit from somepony that it owed money.”
Octavia chuckled again, rummaging around in the pile of clothes on the floor. After a moment she made a soft sound of triumph and straightened with a silver flask clutched in her hoof. The grey mare tilted her head back and took a swig of the liquid. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hoof and proffered the flask to Vinyl.
“Hair of the diamond dog?” the cellist said.
Vinyl eyed the flask for a moment and then hesitantly took it. She took a small swallow of the strong-smelling liquid and sputtered. This was far from the scotch Octavia had been drinking the night before. The burning sensation it left in her throat was far stronger and it tasted distinctly of apples.
Vinyl coughed into the crook of her foreleg, the flask rattling in her grip. Octavia quickly sprang to her side, snatching the flask away before Vinyl could drop it and spill its precious contents.
After her coughing fit subsided, Vinyl shot Octavia a glare. “What the Tartarus is that?” she said, hoarse from the drink.
(Hey Vinyl, feeling a little… horse? )
“It’s cider.” Octavia said as she screwed the top back on the flask.
“That’s cider ?” Vinyl asked incredulously.
“Well, it’s technically hard cider…” Octavia said, inspecting the bed for stains.
Something clicked in Vinyl’s brain and her mouth said it before she could stop herself.
“Isn’t that illegal?”
Octavia looked up from her stain inspection, eyes suddenly appearing colder than they had before. It was a tense moment as Vinyl stared into those violet hues, suddenly remembering that the cellist was a pony of interest in a number of murders.
But the moment passed and Octavia’s eyes regained their usual warmth. She then resumed her stain hunt, speaking as she searched. “I don’t let that bother me.”
“Oh.” Vinyl tried to keep her tones even. “Well, that’s awesome.”
A small grin appeared on Octavia’s face.
The mare pushed away from the bed, apparently satisfied that Vinyl hadn’t spilled any of her cider. She then glanced at Vinyl and said, “You know, we never did get to listen to any music last night…” her grin became a lecherous smile.
Vinyl smiled back. “Yeah, I suppose we didn’t.” and as the tone of the room became lighter, Vinyl was suddenly reminded of the pounding in her skull. “Uh, Octavia, not that I don’t appreciate you sharing your cider and all, but I don’t suppose you have anything…?” she lightly tapped her forehead.
Octavia rolled her eyes and scoffed. “And I thought you Deejays were party animals.” she smirked in an almost snide way. “I’ll get you some medicine you big baby.” she made her way to the door, snatching up a black fedora with a pink band off a lamp and placing it on her head. She paused in the door frame.
“Now don’t you go anywhere.” she said like she was speaking to a puppy, even waggling a hoof. She chuckled and left with that.
Vinyl let out a huff when she was sure Octavia was well out of earshot and rubbed her eyes. What in Tartarus did she and the cellist drink last night? Vinyl rapidly became bored with waiting and ignored her body’s faint protests as she slipped out of the bed.
Looking for something to do to occupy her mind, the unicorn went over to the little glittering pile that was her dress from the previous evening. She picked it up, noticing that not only was it severely rumpled, but at some point a liquid of a startling red shade had been spilled all over it, leaving a very large blotch of an ugly brownish color down the front.
Vinyl sighed and let the dress fall back to the floor. Wasn’t like it was hers anyhow. She moved on to the bottles on the floor, wondering exactly how many and how much had entered her system.
She glanced over at the dildo and the blueberry pie it currently laid in. Vinyl certainly had been to more than a few wild parties and had certainly seen some shit. But this? Intentional or not, the fact that a dildo that had almost certainly been in at least one of their orifices, was now in a blueberry pie disturbed her.
Vinyl sighed and rubbed her eyes again. She went over to the pie, gingerly picked it up with her magic, and dumped it in the wastebasket. The dildo she allowed to flop to the floor, trying desperately not to look at it; trying to not imagine where it might have bee-
Shit, now she was.
“Great,” Vinyl said, gritting her teeth as the pounding in her head flared up. “Just fuckin’ great.”
The pounding lessened and Vinyl could once more form a full thought. Of course, that first full thought brought her back to the problem she had woken up with that morning.
You were supposed to pump her for information, Vinyl. Not let her pump you.
Vinyl sighed again, annoyed that sighing was suddenly becoming the thing she did. She needed to focus. There was a way to turn this around, right? Octavia liked her, why else would she offer the cider? So that’s what Vinyl would do. She would go along with Octavia as long as she could, playing off the mare’s affection, or at the very least attraction to her.
She was trained for this. Get close to a target, make them your best friend. She could do that. So what if the target was a skilled cellist/hardened mob enforcer? She seemed like a decent mare.
Vinyl winced as she wandered into the sunlight. She wished she had her glasses. They would have been a lot of help right now.
The sound of the door opening shook her from her thoughts and made her remember the pain in her skull. She was really starting to wish she had bothered learning some healing spells back in school.
Octavia entered the room with a slight swagger, a white bottle clutched in her hoof.
“What took you so long?” Vinyl asked.
“Oh, stop your whining.” Octavia said, a snide smirk on her face. “Here’s your pills.”
“Grabbin’ pillz.” Vinyl muttered as she took the bottle and twisted the cap off. She popped a few in her mouth and then searched for something to wash them down with. Octavia offered her flask, smirk showing some of her pristine white teeth. Vinyl glared at her and dry swallowed the pills.
Octavia placed her flask on the table as Vinyl sank onto the bed, falling all the way onto her back and rubbing her eyes.
“How long till these things take effect?”
“I got the fast-acting ones for you.” Octavia said as she flopped on the bed, seeming more chipper than she had any right to be. “…Baby.” she added.
Vinyl groaned and slowly slipped from the bed to the floor. “Stop calling me that.” she mumbled.
Octavia poked her head over the edge of the bed, her black locks just long enough to tickle Vinyl’s nose. “And what would you prefer I call you?”
“I don’t know.” Vinyl rubbed her eyes again, noticing the pain was dulling. “Why don’t you just call me Vinyl?”
Octavia seemed to think about it for a moment, and then smirked again. Vinyl was starting to get tired of her doing that. “Nah, I think I prefer calling you ‘Baby’, baby.” she giggled as her head vanished from Vinyl’s sight.
The DJ sighed and then felt a smile on her lips as a thought popped into her head. “Whatever you say… Octy.”
Octavia head immediately popped back over the side of the bed. “What was that?” her face was drawn in a scowl, but the anger didn’t reach her eyes.
“Octy.” Vinyl repeated, feeling her wit come back to her as the pain grew fainter and fainter. “Do you like it?”
“No, as a matter of fact, I don’t.” Octavia said.
It was Vinyl’s turn to smirk. “Aw, but I do. I really can’t get it out of my head.”
Octavia look away from Vinyl, breathing in and then blowing a few errant stands of mane from her eyes. “Fine, I’ll call you Vinyl.” she looked back at the unicorn. “Happy?”
“Immensely.” Vinyl put her foreleg under her head as a cushion. “Thank you for the pills, Octavia.”
“You’re welcome.” the earth pony grumbled, clearly not happy she had been the one to compromise.
Vinyl leaned her head back, eyes closed, a faint smirk in her lip. Octavia fluffed up a pillow and leaned against it, forelegs crossed. She wasn’t used to being outfoxed, being made to back down. It was a rare occasion for her. The fact that this mare had been able to do that… intrigued her.
Vinyl was content to lay on the floor, eyes closed, allowing the medicine to do its work. As the pounding receded to more of a tickle at the back of her skull, she began bobbing her head and humming a tune. After a time she cracked her eyes open and leaned her head back to look under the bed, not really expecting to find anything. However, she did notice there was a very large leather case there.
“Hey Octavia.”
“Yes, Vinyl?”
Vinyl rolled onto her front and extracted the case from beneath the bed. She huffed as she dragged in out into the open. The thing weighed a ton. “Is this your cello case?”
“Hm?” Octavia glanced over at Vinyl, having become lost bobbing her head to the DJ’s earlier humming. At the sight of her cello case, she suddenly sprang from the bed. “Whoa, wait!”
Vinyl, never one to let her curiosity run the risk of being unsatisfied, had already begun opening the case. You could tell a lot about a musician from their instrument and Vinyl certainly wanted to know as much as she could about Octavia. However, it would seem that Octavia was not one to give away her life secrets willy nilly.
Just as Vinyl was beginning to open the case after undoing the latches, Octavia’s front hooves slammed down on the lid, almost clipping the tips of Vinyl’s hooves. The cellist then hoisted the case up onto the bed like it was a simple gallon of milk and patted it as it settled on the bed next to her.
There was an awkward silence which Octavia mercifully broke first.
“Sorry dear, but this cello is… well, it’s very special to me. I don’t like just anypony touching it or even looking at it.” the cellist pulled the brim of her fedora down to cover her eyes, embarrassed.
Vinyl just waved her off. “I get it. I don’t like ponies touching my equipment either.” she smiled pleasantly, meanwhile filing away the knowledge that Octavia must be crazy strong to be able to lift that thing so easily.
Octavia smiled and peered from underneath her hat. “I’m glad you understand, Vinyl.” she paused. “Although, I did promise you some music, didn’t I?”
Vinyl smiled. “Oh yeah. Lay it on me.”
Octavia just smiled and shook her head. “I just told you, this is my special cello. You’re going to have to do a lot more than talk me into bed to get a peek at it. However,” Octavia turned the case to face her and opened it, the lid blocking Vinyl’s view. She rummaged around for a moment before pulling out a cassette tape. “I can play you this.”
Octavia leaned over to the conveniently placed cassette player on the nightstand, popping the cassette tape in and pressing play.
“Is this thing working? Yes?” a male voice emanated from the speakers, soundly almost stereotypically like a nerd. “Okay, to access the codes, you’ll need to-”
The voice cut out as Octavia hit the stop button and ejected the tape faster than a sprinter that owed money to a loan shark.
Vinyl blinked. “Hey, what was that for? He was just about to tell us how to access the secret codes.”
Octavia flushed. “Oh you’re, uh, familiar with this radio drama?”
Vinyl shook her head. “No, but I do like the sound of this one.” she smiled at Octavia.
The grey mare returned the smile, hers a tad forced. “Well, that’s not even the start of the series, so another time perhaps?”
Vinyl nodded and Octavia seemed to visibly relax, stowing the tape away in her cello case and extracting a new one.
What are you hiding? Vinyl thought, watching Octavia put the new tape in. What’s a gang enforcer doing with tapes with codes on them?
Her musings were interrupted as the sounds of a cello being played came from the speakers.
“This is just a sound test.” Octavia explained. “A short little piece I wrote. Nothing special. The one after this is a cover I did at my producer’s insistence.”
Vinyl made her way over to the other side of the bed, her back now to the window, getting closer to the player and the music.
“I like this one.” Vinyl said, closing her eyes to better enjoy the music.
“Thank you.” Octavia said, sounding embarrassed.
The grey mare smiled as she watched the unicorn begin swaying to the music. The damned mare was just so cute at times. Like back at the party last night: the way she entertained herself with the punch, the bored look on her face the rest of the time. The way her speech slowed down when she became intoxicated, her gracefulness turning into clumsiness. Octavia sighed in a content way. She could do worse.
And then a flicker of movement caught her eye. It was out there, on the balcony. A shadow that moved too quickly to be a curtain and was too large to be a bird. In years past, a small voice would have told Octavia she was being paranoid. She had learned to stop listening to that voice.
The cellist stared intently out the window, tracking every movement. There. The silhouette of what could only be a pony. They must have been on the balcony above and adjacent to this one. The silhouette raised an foreleg, showing the clear outline of a gun in their hoof.
Moving quietly and slowly, Octavia reached over to the nightstand, opening the drawer and extracting the .45 pistol from within it. She slipped off the bed and got close to Vinyl, their bodies just inches apart.
“Vinyl.” Octavia said softly, hoof poised to shove in her mouth should the unicorn make any sort of noise.
“Hm?” Vinyl opened her eyes. “Whoa,” she said, noticing Octavia’s face mere inches from hers. “Oct- mmph.”
Octavia pressed her hoof to Vinyl’s lips. “Shh!” she shushed harshly. She glanced at the balcony. The shadow was still there, waiting for something. “Listen closely, Vinyl. There’s a pony nearby with a gun and I’m pretty sure he’s coming here.” she shushed Vinyl again when the unicorn attempted to speak. “Quiet . Now, I need to know: have you ever used a gun before?”
Vinyl nodded, afraid Octavia would shove her hoof down her throat should she make any more noise.
“Good. Move over to the bed and open my cello case.”
Vinyl gave her a look.
“Dire circumstances.”
Vinyl just nodded and moved away from Octavia, who never took her eyes off the balcony. She pulled the case to the edge of the bed and undid the latches, opening it. Inside was-
A cello.
“Octavia?” Vinyl said, suddenly remembering the saying that all talented artists are insane.
“There’s a little lever near the neck.” Octavia said, slowly moving over to the foot of the bed, still keeping an eye on the balcony.
It took Vinyl a few moments to find the lever, but she soon flipped it and there was a soft sound of latches releasing. Funny she didn’t notice that earlier. The top of the cello flipped upwards like a second lid, revealing a multitude of items held down by straps inside the case’s red felt innards. Octavia was soon next to her, pulling one of the items out of the case and blocking Vinyl’s view, but she had seen a number of guns, knives, what looked like a grenade or two, and, of course, a bottle of cider.
“Here, cover the door.” Octavia said, handing Vinyl a sawed-off shotgun.
The unicorn looked in surprise at the firearm suddenly placed in her hooves. Her training quickly came back to her and she did a quick check of the gun: ensuring it was loaded, cocking back both hammers, and flicking the safety off.
Octavia spared Vinyl a quick glance, happily noting the unicorn seemed to be able to handle a gun better than she handled alcohol. She noticed the shadow on the balcony seemed to tense up.
There was the thud of hooves on stone as the stallion hit the balcony. He was bringing his gun up when the bullet from Octavia’s gun hit him in the shoulder. Before he could recover, Octavia was already on him, knocking his gun from his grip and tossing him back into the room. He hit the edge of the bed, bouncing back up only to have a hoof knock him back down.
“How many?” Octavia demanded, shoving her gun in the stallion’s face.
Before he could answer, the door to the room burst open, another stallion standing there. Vinyl fired more by instinct than anything else: the shotgun bucking powerfully in her hooves, pellets making tiny little holes all over the wall as the stallion ducked behind the it.
Octavia made the mistake of taking her eyes off the stallion she was interrogating, the loud blast of the shotgun distracting her. The pony punched her in the gut and shoved her aside, charging for his fallen gun on the balcony.
Hearing Octavia’s grunt, Vinyl whirled around, shoving the shotgun towards the balcony. She fired just as the stallion was getting up, the force of the blast knocking him back over the railing.
Octavia used the edge of the bed to pull herself up, seeing and subsequently shooting the stallion at the door as he came back into view. His body jerked as the three bullets drilled into his chest, dropping to the carpet without any grandeur.
Vinyl found herself breathing heavily as the ringing in her ears from the gunshots quieted down.
“Holy shit.” she said.
Octavia merely grunted, pushing herself up onto her hooves proper and quickly making her way to the closet. From with in it she put on a white collar with a pink tie and a black trench coat. She then tossed a purple shirt over to Vinyl.
“Put that on; we might as well look nice since we’re going out in public.” Octavia said as she straightened her tie. “By the way, be a dear and bar the door.”
Vinyl caught the shirt automatically, pulling it on without much thought. It was honestly bugging her a little, killing that pony. She’d been told numerous times during training that there was a good chance she would spill blood before her career ended, but it still bugged her. Although, the one thing they mentioned during training had been correct: when somepony is trying to kill you, you don’t feel too bad when you kill them first.
Octavia was beside the bed again, reloading her pistol and putting it in a holster within her coat. She then pulled out a rifle, attaching a large drum magazine to it and pulling the bolt back.
The grey mare glance over at Vinyl, who had put on the shirt, but was now just staring out at the balcony.
“Vinyl, you alright there, dear?”
Vinyl blinked and nodded. “Yeah, I’m… I’m fine.” a faint grin suddenly appeared on her face. “I guess I shouldn’t feel too bad. He was probably going to the lobby anyway.”
Octavia blew some air through her nose in something close to a laugh. “That’s the spirit. But you may want to work on your lines. Anyway, how’s that door coming?”
Vinyl just nodded and slid off the bed, closing the door and jamming a chair underneath the doorknob. That bothered her little too, that casual dismissal of the life she took. Not just from her, but from Octavia as well.
Octavia handed the shotgun back to Vinyl, throwing in a hoofful of shells.
“Alright, they’re probably in the hotel, so we’re going down the fire escape.” Octavia said as she closed the ‘cello’ case as hefted it up onto her shoulder.
Vinyl nodded. “Alright. But, hey Octavia?”
“Yes?”
“Who the hell are these guys anyhow?”
The mare shrugged. “Hell if I know.”
Octavia made to go out onto the balcony, but she paused and went over to the cassette player, turning the volume all the way up just as it started on the next song.
“What? I like music while I work.” Octavia said with a grin, moving out onto the balcony. Vinyl followed her, feeling a little uneasy.
Octavia, cello case slung over one shoulder, looked around, searching for more assailants. Vinyl jumped as she heard the loud thud of somepony’s hoof against the door. She tapped Octavia on the shoulder and the mare just sighed, turning and firing a burst off from her rifle though the door, the gun held almost casually in one hoof. There were yelps form the other side of the door and Octavia quickly got up onto the railing of the balcony, jumping to the rusty red fire escape next to it.
Vinyl followed her, letting out a yelp of her own as several bullets flew through the door, bouncing off the metal railing. She noted with some measure of envy that Octavia was moving rather fluidly and gracefully for somepony carrying a cello case full of guns.
The two mares made their way down the fire escape, the metal rattling under their hooves, Vinyl cursing Octavia for picking such a high floor. There was then a shout from above followed by the cracks of guns firing. Vinyl barely had time to assess where the shots were coming from when Octavia began shooting off her rifle again.
Cries came from the balconies above, both from gun ponies and other alarmed guests of the hotel. The ponies shooting at them seemed to be quickly upgrading their firepower, the cracks of pistols soon being replaced by the boom of rifles.
Octavia spat a curse and leapt to another balcony, throwing her cello case through the glass. Vinyl shot off both barrels of her shotgun, wincing as it bucked in her grip, buying herself enough time to follow Octavia. The grey mare was already opening the door and storming into the hallway as Vinyl came through the window.
Vinyl quickly reloaded her shotgun as she followed Octavia, hearing the distinct sound of the mare’s rifle firing as she entered the hallway. Octavia was walking backwards, holding her cello case before her like a shield, firing her gun around it.
“Behind me! Get behind me!” she shouted at Vinyl as she cut down a pony emerging from the stairwell, letting out a short bark of laughter.
Well, that was certainly something Vinyl should think about later, but for now she did as Octavia asked, getting behind her and covering her back.
They soon reached the elevator, Vinyl hitting the button and then being suddenly handed the cello case.
“Hold this, dear” Octavia said, swapping out magazines on her gun.
Vinyl nodded, letting off a pair of shotgun blasts as she saw some more ponies try to come from the stairwell, causing them to duck back into it.
There was a ding as the elevator doors opened and the two mares quickly got inside, Vinyl mashing the ‘close doors’ button as she saw more armed ponies sticking their heads out from the stairwell and a few from the room she and Octavia had gone through. Octavia let off a few more controlled bursts from her gun, possibly hitting a few ponies but more likely just scaring them back into cover.
Finally the doors closed and Vinyl hit the button for lobby.
There were a few tense moments as the elevator descended, the music playing over the speakers sounding strangely like the song that had been playing on the cassette tape. Well, she did say it was a cover song.
Octavia crouched down, taking something from her cello case and putting it in her pocket. After she closed the case, she examined it, noting with a slightly miffed look that the bullets had scratched some of the leather. Vinyl glanced over and suddenly noticed the complete lack of bullet holes on the cello case.
“Whoa, is that thing bullet-proof?” she asked.
“Yes.” Octavia said matter-of-factly as she straightened up, hefting the case. “Get ready.” she said, straightening her hat as the elevator settled down on the ground floor.
The ding sounded again as the elevator doors parted to reveal-
The lobby.
“Huh.” Vinyl said to herself.
The two mare rapidly made their way across the lobby’s carpeted floor, startling more than a few ponies that noticed the weapons in their hooves. They surprisingly made it out of the lobby without incident, getting out onto the sidewalk where Octavia pointed towards a black automobile, the machines having become rather popular in larger cities as of late.
Octavia pulled the keys from her pocket and opened the car, shoving her cello case in the back seat while she hustled Vinyl into the passenger seat. Vinyl heard several shots come from behind them, the bullets pinging off the metal chassis. She shouted to Octavia as the latter circled in front of the car.
“Behind us!”
The grey mare nodded and pulled out the object she had stuffed in her pocket previously. Vinyl saw the drab green spherical body of a grenade clutched in one hoof, Octavia’s gun held in the other. The mare pulled the pin with her teeth and tossed the grenade in the direction of the gunfire. She then quickly got in the car and stomped on the gas pedal, the car peeling and jumping forward on the road just as a large explosion rocked it, the fireball lighting up the street.
Octavia placed her gun onto of her cello case as she drove, turning down the first street she saw, trying to distance herself from the hotel as quickly as possible.
There was about a minute or two of silence as they drove, which Octavia broke with, “I should probably mention that being a cellist isn’t all I do.” she said with a grin.
Vinyl just looked at Octavia.
Octavia Philharmonica
Cello Player/Badass
Author's Note
Finally! Some good old ponies shooting other ponies!
Artwork was drawn by Air Heart
And here's some random notes no one cares about!
The pistol Octavia is using is a 1911.
I have no idea what the first song on the tape would be, so feel free to make suggestions!
In other news, there were two rather blatant references in this chapter. One to a video game and one to a movie I love. See if you can find them and feel free to ask for hints!
It’s Poetic, Really
“Manehattan PD” was not a phrase that inspired confidence in many of the city’s citizens. It might have had something to do with size, both the department’s and the city’s. The city was a vast, sprawling landscape of concrete and brick, filled to the brim with ponies and their vices. Manehattan Police Department was a handful of buildings scattered throughout the city, each carrying only the bare minimum of ponies needed to keep the peace.
That statement itself was something of a joke. With the influx of residents from all races and all walks of life, the crime rate was rising, and politicians who cared more about their approval ratings than actually having a better city found the police to be a convenient scapegoat.
Budget cuts were approved monthly, taking a bite out of salary and benefits each time. Every week, more police ponies left the department for better work or began taking payoffs just to keep afloat. And so, what was supposed to be a beacon of peace and order was rapidly becoming another corrupted and diseased portion of the landscape.
Of course, this was all opinionative.
The opinions in question belonged to a mare who struck fear into the hearts of those that have had the misfortune of meeting her under non-legal circumstances.
Poetic Justice was a criminal’s worst nightmare: a cop who couldn’t be bought, who didn’t leave things alone, and who mostly just got pissed off if you shot at her. She looked the part too, what with her closely cut, reddish-brown mane, her gunmetal grey coat that accented nicely with her police jacket, and the stylized golden badge on her flanks.
Detective Poetic Justice
Hard Flank
And at the same moment that Vinyl Scratch was going down a narrow street at far too great a speed, Detective Poetic Justice was leaning back in her chair, her hooves propped up on her desk, her head reclined, eyes closed, smoke curling upwards from the cigarette clutched between her lips.
The mare inhaled and exhaled slowly and smoothly, the taste of her special blend always soothing her. She needed soothing today. They were giving her a new partner today, on account of the last one getting shot. She didn’t see what the big deal was; they could easily reattach it.
Of course, such tranquility could only last so long before the universe got bored and decided to get things moving.
“Hey, Poetic!”
Poetic pulled her head up and looked over her reflective sunglasses at the source of the call. Her emerald eyes were greeted with the sight of one Harry ‘Cowlahan’, a cop that was fairly new to the district. Cowlahan wasn’t his actual name, she knew that much, but she never actually bothered learning his real one. She imagined he got it from the brown splotches on his white coat.
Harry Cowlahan
*Snicker*
Poetic sighed and tilted her head back again. “Hello Harry,” she replied.
The all-too-cheery Harry practically skipped over to her and plopped down in the chair adjacent to her desk, setting the steaming mug of coffee he had on the corner of the desk.
He was the son or nephew or something of somepony important, which gave him some degree of pull in the Department’s bureaucracy. Not that he mentioned or even used it. The kid was annoying at times, but she knew he meant well. Why in Tartarus he had taken such an interest in her was a real mystery.
“You know smoking isn’t allowed inside the building,” Harry said.
“Bite me, Harry,” Poetic said casually.
The police pony chuckled. “Hey, I’m just trying to do you a favor.” he began reaching for a file on her desk. “Don’t want to give the Captain another reason to suspend you.”
“If you see the Captain, you tell him to bite me too.” Poetic slapped his hoof, not bothering to look up. “And don’t touch my files.”
Harry winced and shook his hoof. “Ouch, that’s my gun hoof. I need that, Poetic.”
“Then don’t touch my files.” she rolled her head forward and eyed Harry. “Do I come to your desk and touch your files?”
“You know I don’t have a desk.” he coughed as some of Poetic’s smoke rolled his way. “And would you put that out? For my health at least?”
Poetic gave Harry a look and dropped her cigarette in his coffee. “Better?” she asked.
“Better.” Harry sourly looked at his coffee, pushing it aside. The expression didn’t last long and he was soon talking again. “Now that the air’s clear, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”
“I’m not going out for drinks with you, Harry. Even if you do buy.”
The young stallion laughed. “Wow, why don’t you just take my pride out into an alley and shoot it?”
“Too much paperwork, like everything else. You were saying?”
“Yeah, you know how the evaluations are coming up next month?”
“Yeah, and?”
“Well, I was thinking about maybe pulling a few strings and getting you a good one this year.”
“I don’t need any strings pulled, Harry. I’m good at my job.”
“Yeah, but you piss off the Brass.” Harry leaned forward. “Come on, I do my string pulling and maybe you make lieutenant this year.”
“I don’t want to be a lieutenant, Harry.”
“Why not?”
“I like being on the ground, making progress, not back at HQ, making coffee.”
“Come on, Poetic, think about it. You spend a few years making coffee and then you’re captain and you’re the one busting chops and giving ponies forty-eight hours to finish the job.”
Poetic sighed and leaned forward, resting her hooves on the desk as she pointedly eyed Harry. “I know you mean well Harry, but believe me, I do not want to be Captain. The higher up I go, the worse the fall is, and they’ll push me off if I don’t toe the line.” she leaned back in her chair again, head returning to its previous position and hooves absentmindedly going through her pockets for her pack of cancer sticks.
Harry remained quiet for a time before… well, Poetic wasn’t sure what to call it, but she thought she heard him giggle .
“Wow, Poetic, that was great!” he said excitedly. “Did you come up with that just now or did you write it beforehand?”
Poetic sighed. “You give me a headache, Harry.”
“You haven’t asked me to leave.”
“Harry, leave.”
Harry chuckled. “Come on, Poetic. I come over here trying to be helpful and you turn me away?”
“Yep.”
Harry chuckled again. “Alright, alright. I can take a hint.”
Poetic felt a faint smile on her lips.
“However,”
And there it goes.
“There’s something else I need to talk to you about.”
Poetic sighed and rubbed her temples as she leaned forward again. “What is it, Harry?”
“How bad is Equiscide going to be, really?”
Poetic blinked in surprise. That wasn’t what she was expecting. “Going to be? Did you get transferred?”
“Yeah, I’m, well, I’m your new partner.”
Poetic blinked a few times and then brought her hoof to her forehead, feeling a headache coming on. “Really?”
“Yep. It was made official this morning.”
“Did you request this, Harry?”
The stallion looked a little nervous. “Well… I said that since I was moving up in the department I should work with an experienced cop to learn all the stuff they can’t teach you in the academy. The brass agreed with me and when I saw that you were in the market for a new one…” he shrugged. “I couldn’t think of a cop that seemed more knowledgeable than you.”
Poetic sighed again and looked at the stallion. “Well… I’m certainly flattered, Harry, but if Equiscide is the department you want to go into, you’ll want to ask for a different partner.”
“If you think that rolling with you will ruin it for me, believe me, I can stomach the-”
“It’s not that, Harry. I’m, not in Equiscide anymore.”
“No?”
“I was transferred after Rodriquez got shot.”
Harry snorted. “The big baby. It’s not like they can’t reattach it.”
Poetic couldn’t help the grin that came to her face. “Thank you. But the fact remains I’m not in Equiscide.”
Harry shrugged. “That doesn’t bother me. It’s not the department, it’s the cop. Wherever you roll, I’ll roll with you.”
Poetic rolled her eyes. “I’m flattered Harry. I really am. And you can, eh, ‘roll’ with me if you really want to.”
Harry beamed. “Awesome. So…” he began reaching for the file on her desk again. “If it’s not Equiscide, what are you into now?”
Poetic slapped his hoof again and snatched up the file, shoving it in a desk drawer. “Don’t touch my files.” she said. “And I - well, we - are in Gangs.”
Harry had been sucking on his hoof to alleviate the pain, but he quickly stopped and stared at Poetic with a look of concern mixed with fear.
“Did you say Gangs?”
“Yep.”
“I’m calling the Chief right now.” Harry reached for the phone on her desk. “Transferring you to Gangs ?” he muttered with a hint of anger.
“Harry.” Poetic snatched the phone away before he had even begun to dial. “I requested to be transferred to Gangs.”
“You requested ? Who in their right mind requests to be transferred to Gangs?!” Harry leaned forward, his voiced slightly hushed now. “Poetic, I’m not sure if you are aware of this, but there are two kinds of cops in Gangs: those that are on the payroll, and those that are on the hit list. And no offence, but you don’t seem the payroll type.”
“That is exactly why I want to be in Gangs, Harry. I grew up in this city. It’s my home. And I see it going to Tartarus in a damn hoof-basket.” she began ticking things off on her hooves. “I have griffins moving in ever since the ‘Fatherland’ became less profitable. I have cider smugglers bringing shipments in three times a week and having shootouts with the griffins four times a week. And in recent news, there is some psychotic Prench bitch in a ski mask stabbing her way through every vice this city has.” Poetic brought her hooves down on the desk. “These fuckers are carving up my city and I’ll be damned if I am going to be trudging behind them cleaning up their mess. That’s why I transferred to Gangs - so I can prevent the bodies from dropping, rather than finding out who dropped them after the fact.”
Harry stared at Poetic like she was crazy, but with a hint of awe mixed in. He sighed and nodded. “I can’t argue with that.” he shot her a grin. “When do we start?”
The phone on Poetic’s desk began to ring.
“Looks like we just did.”
Author's Note
New characters! And yes, Poetic is related to another character in one of my stories.
Also, in case anyone was confused: Equiscide = Homicide.
Turn Down For ‘What?’
The tires on Octavia’s car threw up smoke and her brakes let out a screech as the vehicle slid to a stop across the street from Vinyl’s apartment building.
“You live here?” Octavia inquired, giving the structure and its fading paint a skeptical look.
After a moment too long of silence, Octavia glanced over to Vinyl. The unicorn’s eyes were screwed shut and her hooves were tightly gripping the dashboard in front of her.
“Vinyl?” Octavia poked the mare, causing her to start and open her eyes. “Yoohoo, we’re here.”
“We are?” Vinyl said, as thought she didn’t believe it. She looked over at her building and let out a sigh of relief. “Oh thank Celestia.”
The unicorn hurriedly opened her door and all but fell onto the street, thankful to be on solid ground again.
“I’m never getting into a car with you again,” Vinyl said as she shakily got to her hooves.
Octavia scoffed as she got out of the car as well, hauling her cello case out with her. “Oh, would you relax. When I say we’re going to make the jump, we’re going to make the jump.”
Vinyl just shook her head and began walking across the street to her building, Octavia following only a step or two behind her.
“So, there’s a story here, right?” Octavia asked as they entered the lobby.
“Hm?”
Octavia smiled. “Oh come on, Vinyl. Every apartment building has some kind of story. Did somepony famous once live here? A particularly grisly murder take place here? Was it the setting of a sordid love affair? Details.”
Vinyl just shrugged as they entered the elevator. “Not that I know of.”
“Really? Never chat up your landlord while he’s tacking on meaningless fees?”
Vinyl hit the button for her floor. “I slip an envelope under his door whenever my rent is due.”
Octavia sighed and flicked an imaginary piece of dust off her shoulder as the elevator rose.
“I thought you would have lived in a nicer building,” Octavia mentioned after a few moments of silence between them.
The elevator halted as Vinyl shot Octavia a glare. A pair stallions entered the elevator, smiling politely at the two mares before hitting the button for a floor higher in the building.
“What does it matter to you where I live?” Vinyl hissed at Octavia as the elevator shakily started up again.
“Oh, it’s nothing. I just thought a DJ like yourself would earn enough for a nicer place,” the elevator halted again, a ding sounding as the doors slid open. “I’m starting to think you lied just to get me into bed,” Octavia said as she brushed past the two stallions, smirking back at Vinyl.
The unicorn gaped and sputtered for a moment before darting after Octavia, her face flushed. The stallions, for their part, just stared at their hooves and shifted uncomfortably as the doors closed.
Vinyl raced to catch up with Octavia as the latter calmly strolled down the hallway, shoulders shaking from the effort to contain her mirth.
“Did you see the look on those stallions’ faces?” Octavia snickered. “Priceless.”
Vinyl had been poised to say something (she admittedly had no idea what) to the grey mare, but she closed her mouth and simply smiled. “Yeah, I suppose that was a little funny.”
Octavia chuckled again. “Ease up dear. I thought DJs were supposed to be loose and fun.”
“I’m loose and fun!” Vinyl said defensively, crossing her forelegs. “But to be fair, we were just in a freaking firefight, not to mention you nearly killed us both with your driving.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my driving,” Octavia turned up her nose. “And I’ve been in worse.”
“Worse firefights?” Vinyl prodded. “What did you say you did besides play the cello?”
“I didn’t,” Octavia said coolly. She then gave Vinyl a wink and added, “But once I’ve had a nice, cool drink, who knows what might slip out?"
Vinyl nodded and began patting her pockets for her key, only to realize that she wasn’t even wearing her own clothes.
“Aw shit,” Vinyl muttered.
“Problem, Vinyl?” Octavia asked, leaning against the wall next to the unicorn.
“My key. I had it in that dress I was wearing last night,” Vinyl groaned and brought her hoof to her forehead. “Which I left in the hotel room. Shit.”
Just as Vinyl felt herself beginning the classic ‘slump against wall and slide to floor’ move, the sound of jingling keys brought her out of it. She looked to the source, finding Octavia holding out her key ring, that smug look again on her face.
“You kept dropping these last night, so I thought it prudent to hang onto them.”
“Thanks, I guess,” Vinyl said, taking the proffered keys.
“You guess?”
“I’m not sure we’re far enough into this relationship for you to have a key to my apartment,” Vinyl said as she searched for the correct key.
“Oh really? How far do we have to be exactly?”
“Sometime after the third night of crazy sex, but ideally before one of us gets the other pregnant,” Vinyl said as she finally found the correct key and inserted it into the lock.
Octavia chuckled. “Good to know. But I’m curious as to whether or not last night counts.”
Vinyl paused halfway through opening the door and looked Octavia dead in the eye. “I found a dildo in a blueberry pie. If that doesn’t immediately qualify whatever the Tartarus we did last night as crazy sex, I really don’t want to know what does.”
Octavia’s expression became blank for a moment as her brain processed what she had just heard. She then let out a loud bark of laughter as she followed Vinyl into the latter’s apartment. “I’m sorry, there was a what in a blueberry pie?”
Vinyl felt her face flush crimson. “Nothing!” she said hurriedly, tossing her keys onto a nearby dresser.
Octavia laughed again as she closed the door behind her. “I for one have no memory of that, but I certainly am intrigued now.”
Vinyl brought her hoof to her face and sighed. “Just… Can we please not talk about it? Like, ever?”
Octavia chuckled and patted Vinyl on the shoulder. “Whatever makes you happy, dear.” The cellist then moved away from the DJ and took in her surroundings.
In spite of her initial appraisal of the building, Octavia had to admit the apartment wasn’t quite as bad as she had first thought. The main room was large, but cramped, being both living room and kitchen smushed together. The kitchen was mostly a countertop with a coffee pot and a toaster sitting on it with an inset sink, complete with a stove and a small fridge on the end. The main area of the room was furnished with an old coffee table surrounded by a couch, a loveseat, and an armchair, each looking as though this was not the first apartment they had sat in. The wall facing the street was lined with a few tables and a desk, each littered with stacks of paper, quills and pens, old takeout boxes and empty bottles. A door near the kitchen presumably lead to a bedroom.
After taking all this in, Octavia turned back to Vinyl, who was now watching her for her reaction, and said, “I’ve been in worse apartments.”
Vinyl managed a small grin. “Thanks?”
“You’re quite welcome,” Octavia replied with a smug look as she made her way over to the loveseat and plopped herself and her cello case down on it.
“Make yourself at home,” Vinyl mumbled.
“Already am, dear,” Octavia said as she leaned her head back. “Any news on that drink you lured me up here with?”
Vinyl sighed and mumbled something about a pie and cuffing Octavia to a bed. She turned and took the three steps necessary to reach the fridge, opening the door and staring into its fluorescent lit interior for a good ten seconds before she remembered her apartment was strewn with takeout boxes for a reason.
“I, uh, don’t suppose water counts as a cool drink?” Vinyl said over her shoulder.
“In a pinch, dear.”
Vinyl sighed and closed the fridge door, nabbing a pair of glasses from a cupboard and filling them up from the tap. She idly wondered if Octavia became more snobbish the longer she went without alcohol, as Vinyl had prevented her from drinking while she was at the wheel of a moving vehicle . Vinyl made a mental note to insist she always drive whenever the two were in a car. Returning to the loveseat, Vinyl offered one of the glasses to Octavia, who accepted it with a soft word of thanks.
Her expression soured when she took a sip, quickly setting the glass on the table as she reached inside her coat. The sour expression became a look of annoyed confusion as Octavia felt around inside her coat. She quickly resorted to pulling the flap out and peering inside the coat, before letting it fall back to its original position. She groaned and slumped back into the loveseat.
Vinyl tilted her head in confusion. “Something the matter?”
Octavia scowled. “Your water tastes like shit and I seem to have lost my damn flask.”
“Snob,” Vinyl snorted, earning a glare from Octavia.
The grey mare opened her cello case and pulled the bottle of cider from within it. She swallowed the rest of the water in her cup with a grimace and poured herself a generous helping of cider, taking a sip and swishing it around to rid herself of the taste of the city’s tap water.
“I’m guessing cellists drink water taken from glaciers then,” Vinyl said, sipping from her glass.
Octavia swallowed and glared at her again. “Vinyl dear, I’ll have you know that the water I drink comes from snow collected from a crystal cave in the Crystal Empire and is melted by Celestia herself,” Octavia turned her nose up with a ‘hmph.’
Vinyl kept her expression straight for a few seconds before snorting loudly. Octavia’s glare lasted about as long before she cracked a grin. “Had you going there for a moment?”
Vinyl nodded. “Yeah, you play the snob a little too well.”
“Blame it on all the time spent around those bores at the orchestra.” she proffered the cider bottle to Vinyl. “Care for a drink?”
Vinyl shook her head. “Nah, I’d better wait for it to be, y’know, after noon.”
“Are you insinuating something?”
“Not at all.”
“I’m not a lightweight, I’ll have you know,” Octavia said defensively. “I know my limits and I don’t test them until lunch.” Octavia placed the bottle back in the cello case and quickly downed the rest of her glass. Setting it on the table again, she shifted her focus to Vinyl, “So then, Vinyl, not that I didn’t enjoy that drink of my own cider in the glass you provided, but I think it’s time we get down to business.”
Vinyl made a mental note to get back at Octavia for that later and sat down on the couch opposite her. “Great. So, what is it you-?” Vinyl began.
Octavia cut her off. “Do you own a gun?”
“Huh?”
“A gun. I know you can use one, but do you own one?”
Vinyl nodded, caught a little off guard by the cellist’s questions. “Yeah. What about it?”
“Is it here?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Vinyl, I have no bloody idea who those ponies at the hotel were. And while I’m sure you could get by with the shotgun, I’m much prefer it if you had a gun you were more familiar with.”
“Oh,” Vinyl paused. “Do you want me to…?”
“Please.”
Vinyl nodded and got up off the couch, heading for her bedroom. Vinyl pushed opened the door, only for it to get stuck partway open, probably jammed against something in her room. She shot Octavia an embarrassed look over her shoulder and squeezed herself through the opening.
The inside of Vinyl’s room was darker than the rest of the apartment, heavy curtains drawn over the window and her DJ equipment having been shut down the previous day. The small room was very cramped: her bed was shoved up against one of the walls while almost the entirety of the remaining space had been devoted to housing her equipment. In addition, Vinyl had to admit she was a bit of a slob, having not gotten around to her monthly clean up day. Or was that bi-monthly, she forgot which she had convinced herself was good enough.
Vinyl found one of her speakers had fallen over, hence the jamming of the door. She swore softly and hefted the bulky piece of equipment upright with her hooves and magic, inspecting it for damage as soon as it was level. Nothing appeared wrong on the surface, but Vinyl knew there could be any number of internal problems. She sighed; stupid appropriate for the current situation metaphor.
Getting back on task, Vinyl wormed her way past a few more of her equipment pieces and opened the door to her closet. She brushed aside a few coats and scarves soon laid her hooves on a large box. Pulling the lid off, Vinyl sifted through a layer of musical notes and advertisement clippings until she found her target. The unicorn pulled the gleaming pistol from the box, holding it up to the light that managed to slip in through the crack in the curtains. She ejected the magazine and checked it before pushing it back into the gun and racking one of the nine millimeter rounds in.
Setting the gun down beside her, Vinyl sifted through the box some more until she came up with the holster for the gun and the few additional magazines she had. However, while searching, Vinyl pulled another small pistol from the box. She regarded the smaller pistol thoughtfully, having forgotten she even had it. A ‘graduation gift’ from her CO, who insisted she at least own something discrete.
Glancing upwards, Vinyl found a dark vest hanging among her clothes. It was something she’d found at one of those spy stores, a little holster having been sewn into the inner lining. Standing up, she pulled the vest from the rack and shrugged into it, pushing the smaller pistol into the inner holster before buttoning it up.
Satisfied she could now check ‘was discrete’ on her report, Vinyl strapped on the shoulder holster for the larger pistol, quickly securing it as well, and turned her attention to the top shelf of her closet. From there, she pulled an admittedly gaudy case down and withdrew her much-beloved sunglasses.
As Vinyl perched the glasses on her horn, it occurred to her she had just thought of the word ‘Gaudy’. Where in Tartarus had that come from? Shaking her head, Vinyl closed the door to the closet as made her way back to the main room.
“Alright, I’ve got my gun,” Vinyl said as she approached the couch. “Now wha-?” The unicorn stopped speaking as she looked up to see Octavia pointing a pistol at her.
“Now that you’ve shown it to me, take it out. Slowly and with your hoof,” Octavia said coolly, the gun in her hoof pointed squarely at Vinyl’s chest.
“What?”
The cellist pulled back the hammer with a soft yet ominous ‘click’.
Gulping nervously, Vinyl nodded and slowly pulled her gun from its place beneath her shoulder, mindful of the violet eyes watching her. She held the weapon loosely by the butt as she extended her foreleg out.
“Toss it.”
Vinyl complied, the weapon landing softly on the couch cushions.
“Now,” Octavia leaned forward, her gun now held loosely at her side. “Let’s talk about you. Who are you?”
Vinyl blinked. “What?”
Octavia sighed. She raised her pistol almost casually and fired, the loud bang preceding a puff of feathers as a bullet tore through the top of the couch Vinyl stood behind.
“Shit!” Vinyl yelled, jumping.
“You real name. I want your real name,” Octavia said, sounding irritated.
“My name is Vinyl Scratch.”
Octavia fired again, the bullet going through the couch again, pushing more feathers into the air.
Vinyl humped again. “Fuck! Stop doing that!”
“Stop lying to me,” Octavia said coolly.
“I’m not lying, you fucking psychopath!”
Octavia sighed again and rolled her eyes. “Fine then, we’ll come back to that one. Next question: Who do you work for?”
Vinyl stared at Octavia and leaned forward onto the couch. “What ?”
Octavia growled and fired again, the bullet exploding through the couch right next to Vinyl’s hoof. The unicorn yelped and physically jumped into the air.
“Say ‘what’ one more fucking time,” Octavia growled. “Come on, please .”
Vinyl opened her mouth, closed it, and tiredly brought a hoof to her face.
“You know what, this isn’t worth getting shot over. You want to know what’s going on? I’ve got everything in that desk there.” Vinyl started for the desk. “Just let me-”
“Ah ah ah,” Octavia said, getting up from her place on the couch. “You think I’m going to allow you to get at whatever little back up plan you have in there? Do you think I’m stupid? If there’s really anything in there, I’ll get it.”
The grey mare stood up from couch and made her way in between Vinyl and the desk, keeping her gun and eye on the unicorn the whole while. She began fiddling with the desk drawer, her gaze and gun focused on Vinyl. After a few moments of pointless rattling, Octavia turned to look at the desk, her gun straying off target.
Vinyl scrambled in getting a hoof inside her vest and pulling her second pistol from within it. The distinct sound of the slide being racked caused Octavia to whip her head around and find herself staring down the gun’s barrel.
Vinyl was surprised when the grey mare suddenly smirked. “Now just where were you hiding that?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
Vinyl shook off her momentary surprise and set her features into a hard expression. “Toss it.”
Octavia sighed and limply tossed her gun away, it thudding dully on the floor. The earth pony then raised her hooves, still smirking at Vinyl.
“Alright then, you have the drop on me, I’ll admit it. Now what?” Octavia asked, still smiling.
Vinyl’s hard expression faltered, as did her forelegs. “Well, I suppose I could use those cuffs-”
“Kinky,” Octavia cut in, lowering her hooves and making to take a step forward.
Vinyl immediately snapped her forelegs straight again, gun pointed at Octavia’s throat, halting the grey mare in her tracks. “Or I could just shoot you now,” she said with more confidence.
Though Octavia stopped and raised her hooves again, that smirk remained. “I suppose you could; you neighbors really don’t seem too concerned about gunfire.” Vinyl noticed Octavia’s body tensing and gripped her pistol tighter, ready to fire should the mare attempt any sort of move. “But then again, you’d have to take the safety off.”
Vinyl realized her mistake a half second after she made it. She turned the gun slightly, peering at its side. Embarrassingly enough, the safety was indeed on. The embarrassment was rather moot as Octavia launched herself forward, grabbing for the pistol.
Vinyl pulled her hoof back, tearing it from Octavia’s brief grip, and slammed the side of the gun into Octavia’s head, knocking the hat from it. Octavia and Vinyl stumbled backwards a few steps, but each recovered quickly. Vinyl clicked the safety off just as Octavia made a quick downward thrust of her left foreleg. A quick series of clicks sounded as a tiny pistol came out of her sleeve and into her hoof.
Each raised their pistol and they were now only a foreleg’s length apart, Octavia’s gun pointed just below Vinyl’s chin and Vinyl’s pistol a few inches from Octavia’s left eye.
They stood stock still in that position for a few moments, grim determination frozen on their faces. After these few moments had passed, Vinyl spoke.
“Nice trick.”
“Thank you,” Octavia replied in a somewhat smug tone.
“So, what now?” Vinyl asked, surprising herself with the coldness of her voice.
“Well, we could just shoot each other,” Octavia said simply. “But let’s think on that for a moment. If either one of us fires first, the other is sure to fire by way of reaction spasms. I put one through your throat and you choke on your own blood. Or just bleed a lot and never sing again. Meanwhile, I’ll get one through the eye, which will have a slight chance of just going through a bit of my skull instead of my brain.”
“So, it’s just a matter of luck then?” Vinyl replied, swallowing her nervousness as the standoff continued. “You feeling lucky?”
“I was going to buy a lottery ticket.” Octavia grinned briefly before her mouth resumed its grim shape. “But before we kill each other, I’m just dying to know who the fuck you work for.”
Vinyl groaned. “Okay fine, you want to know who I work for? I work for Me and Myself, with some occasional favors for I.”
Octavia’s expression was unreadable, her violet eyes boring into Vinyl’s magenta ones. And after a moment, she suddenly burst out laughing.
Vinyl took a step back in surprise as the larger mare doubled over, clutching her middle as she laughed roaringly. She soon regained some of her composure, straightening and wiping a tear from her eye as she stuffed the tiny pistol back into her sleeve.
Vinyl gaped for a few moments in confusion before managing to blurt out, “What ?”
Octavia leaned against the desk as she tried to answer Vinyl. After a few moments, she managed a “Sorry!” between guffaws. After taking some time to fully compose herself, Octavia spoke.
“Oh, I’m sorry; ponies keep telling me I’m too paranoid at times. Once almost shot a pizza colt because I thought he was stalking me.” This prompted a few more chuckles from the mare.
“What?” Vinyl said exasperatedly.
“Oh, I was on my way home and the others had ordered some pizza and the guy was just walking behind me. And as you can imagine-”
Vinyl cut her off, “No, what in the name of Discord’s ass just happened?”
“Oh,” Octavia said casually. “Well, it’s just that I just met you and before I can even think of telling my father about you I’d have to make sure you were on the level.” Octavia waved her hoof dismissively. “It’s not your fault. The last time I went to a mare’s apartment I almost got arrested because it turned out the mare I was with was actually a cop. We’re just friends now.” Octavia said with a smile.
Vinyl opened and closed her mouth a few times, her brain not processing what was happening to0 well. “So… this was a test ?”
“Something like that. You passed with flying colors by the way.” Octavia bent down to retrive her hat. Once it was back on her head, she said, “I’m still going to have to get the okay from my father before I can bring you home, but I have a good feeling about it.” the grey mare then bent over to retrieve her fallen gun.
“Oi!” Vinyl shouted, aiming her gun at Octavia. The mare gave her an annoyed look.
“I guess I’m not forgiven then.”
“You tried to kill me!”
“And I apologized.” She reached for the gun again.
“Leave it!” Vinyl practically screeched, unhappy with how panicked she sounded.
Octavia sighed again. “Alright, I understand,” she said, straightening back up and making her way over to the couch where her cello case sat. “You just hang on to it and I’ll get it tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Vinyl asked, picking up Octavia’s gun while keeping a close eye on the mare.
“After I make sure it’s okay to bring you home,” Octavia explained, hoisting her cello case up. “I don’t want my dad freaking out.” She walked over to Vinyl, smiling pleasantly as if the last five minutes didn’t happen. “I feel really good about this, Vinyl. And for me... that’s a lot.”
Vinyl took a step back, wary of this being some sort of elaborate and insane ploy. And then, to her surprise, Octavia suddenly leaned down and kissed her. Her shock at the action allowed the earth pony’s tongue to slip into her mouth and have the .45 pulled from her grip.
Leaning back from the kiss, Octavia gave Vinyl what looked like a genuine smile as she slipped her pistol back in its holster.
“Sorry, dear, but I’m really not going to leave my gun here.” she then smacked her lips. “And did I at any point in the last twelve hours mention what a fantastic kisser you are?” With a giggle at Vinyl’s blank expression, Octavia trotted to the door. At it, she turned to Vinyl once again.
“Again, I’m sorry about doing this to you, but I haven’t felt this way in a long time and the last thing I want ruining it is for you to turn out to be a spy or an assassin or something.” she paused as a thought crossed her mind. “Oh, and best you don’t leave as I still have no idea who those ponies at the hotel were. I’ll come get you tomorrow morning. Make pancakes.”
She opened the door, but stopped again. “Oh, and I just love those glasses.” she swept into the hall. “See you tomorrow, love!” she called as she closed the door.
Vinyl stood there for a time, brain replaying the events in an effort to make sense of them. It stood to reason that, being a
And given the current rosy hue of the musician/government agent’s cheeks, it was fair to say that that wasn’t entirely one-sided.
Vinyl Scratch
Her Love Life Makes Shining’s Look Like a Sitcom
Author's Note
Miscellaneous gun info that really only matters if you want to know what gun I had in mind when I was writing.
Vinyl's pistol: Beretta 92FS Inox
Vinyl's small pistol: Walter PPK (Yeah, you know I was going to do that)
Octavia's sleeve gun: any pocket pistol, really (I was inspired to do this after watching season 3 of Justified , so if you know what I'm talking about, you can imagine Octavia having that particular contraption.)
