Pon-3 Rider

by Amante

Rating: everyone
Tags: Comedy, Crossover, DJ P0N-3, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Other
Length: 4249

The story of a girl and her bass-equipped, wub-infused car. They fight crime.

Vinyl Scratch is a teenager with two passions: Music and being heroic.

With the blessing of the secretive WUBS organization, she takes up the mantle of the vigilante known only as 'The DJ' and jumps into the seat of the super high-tech P.O.N.-3 convertible.

Equipped with special reverb plating, the latest in auricular engine technology and a weaponized sound system far, far ahead of anyone's time, she prowls the streets and takes down any ne'er do wells from petty burglars to smugglers moving their goods around to downright villains like the Symphonic Society all so that the common citizen can sleep safe at night. Although she has woken them up by accident on more than one occasion.

Published 2014-11-02 18:10:04 UTC
Last updated 2014-11-02 18:10:04 UTC

WUB WUB WUB

The silver light of the moon bathed the landscape of downtown Canterlot is a silver, ethereal glow. The air was silent save for the occasional nocturnal call. A slight breeze caused an unlit store sign to stir, making parts of it flash on for a brief moment. The scene was an icon of peace and tranquility.

Until...

A black van sped through at breakneck speed, its riders were frantic as they shouted colorful obscenities at one another. The screech of rubber on road replaced the echoing silence as the vehicle performed a particularly sharp turn, causing it to almost tumble over in its haste.

A woman with copper hair and metal-grey skin slammed her fists on the dashboard, “Alright, then tell me you asphalt-skinned genius, how do you explain she found us?!” She was a master lock pick named, appropriately enough, Lock Pick.

“Hey!” shouted the driver, Get Away. His steely eyes’ glare shifted from his companion to the spot she hit. “Calm down, ya crazy. ‘Sides, we ain’t seen eye or tail of—What the hay?!” He slammed the brakes with all his weight as a white convertible sped out of an alley just ahead of them.

The moonlight was unnecessary to make its sleek chassis shine as it slowed down to match the truck’s speed. Twin blue streaks that ran from the headlights to the windshield gave off a mystifying aura and made a unicorn-shaped ornament on the hood look like it was charging. The design on the hubcaps—stylized bass clefs surrounding a bar line—glowed a faint purple and managed to be distinguishable despite their astounding rpms.

The absolutely manic grin on its driver made it look like she was the source of the the car’s purring. Her thick blue hair flowed like sparks in the wind and her white-toned face was still and statue-like with purple shades covering the entirety of her eyes. She smirked at the pair.

“She’s insane!” Get pushed on the gas causing the van to audibly strain itself to get ahead. The convertible had no trouble keeping up. He felt a pulsating feeling, just above his eyes as he gave their pursuer the glare to end all glares through his side mirror.

The car pulled forward and positioned itself in front as its trunk opened up and revealed a pair of oversized loudspeakers pointed neatly to the rear.

Lock was perplexed as she tilted her head and tried to get a better look of what was in front of their vehicle. “What is that?”

The larger speakers began to visibly vibrate as a fast but steady beat passed through the van’s cabin. Even if it was muffled, the sheer size of the source allowed the full range of sound to be heard within.

Get shrugged but kept his grip on the wheel. “I kinda like it.”

His sentiment did not keep as the driver of the convertible stuck out a closed hand. She knocked onto the empty air three times before opening her fingers, as if to drop something.

The air between the speakers and the truck practically ignited. Molecules of various gasses found themselves suddenly excited by a wave of energy and were collectively shoved in the direction of the van. Sparks danced around and inside the hapless vehicle as a faint burning smell coated the air.

Lock and Get felt their their organs reverberate. For the briefest instant they felt the absolute need to dance. To party. To just let it all out. Then the moment ended and they found themselves crashing, quite literally, into themselves and once again proving right the principle of keeping your seatbelt on.

The van swerved and swayed as it began to lose control of its excessive speed.

The convertible let out a few more low-pitch and less extreme notes from its left channel, then its right channel, which managed to help stabilize the van’s movement. With impeccable timing, it eased up and brought the two vehicles bumpers in contact. A whirring sound came from underneath the car as a set of coils beneath the neon-white bumper were pumped with electricity.

With the larger vehicle now securely attached, the car began to slow. The driver adjusted her mirror and noted with satisfaction the unconscious forms of Get and Lock. She turned the vehicles and brought them to a stop in another secluded alleyway..

A screen on top of her dashboard showed a six channel visualizer. It had a purple glow that matched the driver’s shades and lit up appropriately as a voice with a slight robotic twinge, spoke through the vehicle’s, more modest, inner speakers. “A bit much, don’t you think so, DJ?”

The girl shrugged in response as she tapped several multicolored buttons just behind the handbrake.

A coded signal was broadcast out of the hood and made its way to the nearest cell tower. A moment later, the reply came through the same channel.

“WUBS will be here shortly to take care of our friends,” said the car.

Of course by now it should be obvious that this was no ordinary car. This was possibly the greatest vehicle in existence. Nigh-indestructible, faster than most conventional land—and on one occasion air—transportation and armed to the teeth with unconventional auditory and ocular assault mechanisms, this was Pon-3, one of WUBS’ greatest creations.

Designed not just for power, it is also equipped with the technology slightly ahead of the cutting edge in artificial intelligence. Smart and thoughtful enough for strategic planning, threat analysis, target prioritization and even the wit to banter, Pon-3 is the greatest tool and partner of the specially chosen agent of WUBS.

Vinyl Scratch was, for all intents and purposes, an ordinary high school teenager but was chosen due to her penchant for music—for control of Pon-3s systems—and her will of the heroic. Of course, it probably helped that she and her brother, 33 ⅓ LP designed it.

“Now why don’t we find out what they didn’t want us to see,” said Pon-3 with the implied expression of one wiggling their eyebrows. “Maybe it’s another shipment of their small equine videos.”

A button released the van from the magnetic lock and allowed Vinyl bring Pon-3 down to the rear. She stepped out and unlocked the back. Her shades fell slightly down the bridge of her nose as she stood, mouth agape, and stared at the contents.

“Speakers? I’ll be honest, I never took those two for a pair of audiophiles,” said Pon-3.

Vinyl nodded and brought one of the smaller ones out. She ran her fingers across it and looked at it from top to bottom before placing it on the convertible’s hood.

“Hey!” he said in protest.

Her mouth was left hanging as she stared the sound device in the cone. These used the latest technology with some kind of hybrid of neodymium with AlNiCo that managed to allow the magnetic field to be even more sensitive, allowing the voice coil a greater range of movement without any extra strain or power. With these, she could turn the sound of her bass into real BASS.

As far as she knew, these weren’t even supposed to be in the country yet. The makers of these beauties had kept everything under real lock-and-key to preserve their trade secrets. Of course, that wouldn’t have stopped her from immediately taking apart the first one she got her hands on so she could see what made them tick.

She brought out a multi-purpose tool she kept nicely stashed away in her white jacket and got the screwdriver attachment. She was halfway through the second screw when an angry-toned rev sounded from below.

“What do you think they were planning to do?” asked Pon-3.

Vinyl shook her head, put on her headphones and folded her arms across her chest. The music washed over her entire body putting her in a state of euphoria. A smile appeared as she leaned her head back and allowed the power of sound to pump into her head. The world around her suddenly felt lighter, smoother and more understandable as the sensation of floating overcame her.

She walked over to the cabin and looked the two would-be thieves over. Sound and music were never their style, they were always the money and jewels type of thieves so it made no sense that this would be their haul. But then, this may never have been ‘their’ haul to begin with.

Now the question was who could possibly need this much equipment? There was only one group that could actually understand and make use of such—

She felt like she was falling from 10,000 feet. A sharp, but thankfully brief, headache stung her and made her wince. Nausea briefly made itself known to her world.

“Looks like we’ve got another heist at the local music store,” said Pon-3 through her headphones, neatly cutting her music.

The twitch of her eye and the slight snarl of her mouth went undetected by the vehicle. Still, this only served to further her theory. Without hesitation she jumped into the driver’s seat and floored the whole thing backwards, performing a 180 and blasting out of the alley like the wubs she had just been treated to. She bobbed and weaved like the crests and troughs of her music through the smaller streets and the tight alleys

“Something on your mind? It’d be nice if you shared every once and a while.” The dashboard visualizer didn’t light up too much as he said this. “You must have an idea of who were dealing with if you’re going this fast,” he noted as they squeezed between two buildings with about a millimeter of elbow room.

Vinyl gave a small nod.

“Hmmm… Now, who among our wonderful list of rogues could you possibly be this adamant about stopping?” He grinned the way a car would grin. “It’s her again, that’s what you think, isn’t it?”

Their last tussle with their nemesis played out in her head. She owed her a good whack after that stunt. A wide grin spread on Vinyl’s face as she answered him with a more enthusiastic nod.

They stopped a few blocks away from the ransacked shop and hid under cover of darkness. A number of large men loaded cellos, keyboards, violins and a whole brass section, onto the back of a truck not unlike the one they had just stopped. One of the lackeys stood near the driver’s seat and kept watch—on the game on his phone.

Something whirred just below the dashboard that sounded suspiciously like a sigh. “Very professional,” said Pon-3

Vinyl watched as they finally loaded themselves in. They were hardly what she would call efficient, but they were definitely intimidating. Just one of them looked big enough to overload an industrial elevator. Of course this was balanced out by them looking just about as thoughtful as an industrial elevator.

When they were a distance further, she pushed slightly on the gas and began to tail them. They were moving casually through the darkened streets, clearly not in any hurry. One of her eyebrows raised.

Pon-3’s purr lightened. “That is suspiciously uncriminal behaviour for a bunch of criminals. They are taking this far too in stride.”

Vinyl’s eyes glared behind her shades as they turned another corner. She tapped a bulge in her pocket and let herself be taken by her headphones once more. If she were to guess, they were bringing the instruments to the edge of the city; the more industrialized area. Whoever wanted those instruments—especially if it was who she thought it was—would want to use them. The old warehouses provided the privacy and the acoustics necessary for whatever orchestral sinistry was planned.

The small buildings gradually built up into larger, more brick and mortar structures. The streets slowly started to show more wear and exposure to a harsher environment. The light of the lamps turned metallic and lifeless the more of them they passed. The first warehouse, not much larger than a small gymnasium, came and went from view. More lay ahead of them.

The truck that had maintained an unnervingly constant speed finally slowed down as it docked into a large garage. Vinyl positioned Pon-3 a few blocks away. The inside was illuminated very brightly and the silhouette of a smaller feminine figure stood out, watching. Her eyes were all that were discernible and they radiated only one pure unfiltered emotion: rage.

Even from the distance they were at, Vinyl couldn’t help but feel goosebumps at the intensity of the glare directed at the truck. The large lackeys visibly melted and tried their darndest to make themselves as small as possible. The figure turned to enter but stopped. She looked in the general direction of Vinyl and Pon-3.

Her heart and his motors stopped. Her grip on the steering wheel tightened and would’ve cause a very clear indentation had it not been made from a special titanium alloy.

After a moment, the figure seemed to have lost interest and walked inside as the door shut tight behind her.

“That is one person you would never want to get angry,” said Pon-3.

Vinyl removed her headphones and slid open the center of her steering wheel. The light from a small screen bathed her face in a bluish glow as her fingers sorted through various options.

A pair of small, dish like objects emerged just above Pon-3’s headlights. “Preparing subsonic sonar scanner.”

She was about to activate them when another truck pulled up. It was the same one she had stopped earlier. But it wasn’t Lock or Get that was driving. From what little light there was, she could see that the driver was female, and fairly young. Her face was completely obscured by a grey hoodie. Light had, for a moment, glinted off a red jewel around her neck.

“It sounds like she’s singing something,” said Pon-3. He relayed the sound at a significantly lower volume into the his internal speakers.

There was something peculiarly familiar about it. Vinyl shook her head to get the melody out before turning off the stereo.

“I didn’t like it either. Too sultry for my tastes.”

She placed her hand back on the screen and adjusted for a few more parameters before pressing a red button. The air directly in front of the dishes visibly compressed as a low-pitched hiss slowly escaped from them.

A rough image with lines that looked like frayed ropes formed on the screen. Then another just behind it and another, and another. Slowly, a three-dimensional freeze-frame generated before slowly smoothing itself out.

Pon-3’s engine hmm-ed. “Strange. I can’t find the driver of the second truck anywhere.” The image smoothened out until there was an impressively accurate rendition of what the inside of the warehouse looked like. “Although it looks like they’re quite well employed. I count at least twenty of those big guys.”

Vinyl nodded and checked a few more options available to her.

“Well, I think I know you well enough to make a good guess of what you plan to do.” The sound of whirring and moving parts came from under his hood. “Are we going for smoke and lights?”

And ear-to-ear grin, bordering on the maniacal, complemented Vinyl’s slow and sure nod. She selected a few extra options. This was a part of the job she loved. It was second only to saving other people. She clasped her fingers and stretched out her arms before settling nicely into the seat.

The lackeys had unloaded the various instrument and lined them up side by side. On a catwalk high above everything else, the woman with the threatening stare watched and made note of the instruments. She had light-blue skin and chocolate brown hair. She was dressed to impress with a white long-sleeved shirt over a grey vest punctuated nicely with a pink bowtie. She had long slack that were a darker shade than her vest and on her right thigh was the embroidered image of a pink bass clef.

She took several steps to the right and watched as a few sousaphones were placed together. She smiled with devious delight at the beautiful brass instruments. They matched her, Beauty Brass, perfectly.

She frowned as a low hum began to fill the room. None of her underlings had noticed this as they went about doing their orders. She made her way to the wall and into an office that provided a safer view of her operations and approached a large black suitcase placed near the back of the room.

The moment the locks were undone she heard an explosion from the main storage area. A bitter scowl adored her features as she put on her own sousaphone.

Back inside the storage area, Pon-3 stood in the center of everything and savored it.

The lackeys stood slack-jawed at what just happened. One moment they were lifting boxes and sorting musical instruments, the next the big door started vibrating before exploding off its hinges. Now there was a shiny, white convertible with some blue-haired girl smiling cockily in it.

Vinyl strapped a rectangular device on her right arm and transferred a 6.3 mm plug from her headphones to the device. She put on two small ear-plug like items before checking her music player.

“Shall I take the ones on the right, you on the left?”

She nodded as she got out of the car and flexed her fingers. They couldn’t see it but she was already sizing up her approaching opponents through her purple shades. The first one lunged right towards her, fist raised and ready to make contact. When he was only a few step away the beat kicked in.

Steady at first, it began to speed up as the big guy drew close. The pulse of music intensified as his fist started to make its way to her face. She felt the muscles pulsate in time, ready to spring. She could clearly make out the details like scars, scratches, and scabs on the man’s fist when the bass dropped.

Faster than sound, she dropped down to a knee and sprung back up, driving her fist into his gut. The device on her arm synchronize with her movements and drove the force of the wub in the direction of her fist with a powerful sonic wave.

The lackey had the wind blasted out of him and was sent reeling a fair distance before collapsing in a heap of muscle. The others around him had eyes wider than Vinyl’s shades as they observed the girl who had punched out one of their own just as casually as she tapped her foot to the beat. They glanced between each other, the intruder and the office of their boss. They knew what the worst choice was and ran towards Vinyl.

She grinned in response as she bent her knees and bobbed her whole body to the beat. With a running start she charged the closest one and with one leap gave him an uppercut with her foot before spinning and delivering a blow to his chest with her other foot. The music slowed down a bit as two more lackeys approached her from either side. Her senses still synchronized with the beat, the world around her moved in time with her music. The lackey on the left was going for a right hook whilst the lackey on the right would try to tackle her.

She spun around and jumped back, bringing her elbow in contact with the one on the left, whilst making sure that her arm would point at where the one on the right would find himself. The feedback of her attack travelled down her arm and triggered the device to unleash another sonic wave that was strong enough to send the other attacker flying across the room and into a crate. Several violins were lost to that attack.

Those on the other side fared no better. At first they had approached Pon-3 as they would any car. The first one to approach placed his hand on the door and immediately regretted it as he felt himself coming into hard contact with the ground. The rest had begun a valiant charge against the more valiant vehicle.

“Bring it on, you ruffians,” declared Pon-3 as he held onto his hand brake and floored his engine. Turning his own steering wheel, he spun around and brought his rear sound system to bear. He moved to his own beat as a number of the charging enemies were dazed by the intensity of his wubs.

One lucky lackey managed to jump into him. He then began to reconsider his definition of luck as he stared at the dashboard visualizer that managed to give him a glare of nightmares. He swallowed a lump on his throat as he felt like he was slowly being consumed. He gingerly looked at his leg and his heart skipped several beats that were in time with the music. Something—probably the leather, probably not—encroached around his thighs. After a while he realized that the same thing was happening to his back. Sweat started to make its way down several parts of his body as he struggled in vein to get out of the cars grip. He froze when the car talked to him.

“I would appreciate it if you did not stain my upholstery. It takes quite a bit of work to get it to look that good.” Pon-3 opened the driver’s door. “I suggest you just leave.” The tone he spoke it, while still carrying the robotic quality, was such a deep baritone that it rivaled several of the notes from the music.

The grip on his body loosened and the lackye made a run for it. He tripped and stumbled and eventually resorted to crawling away from the vehicle. He dare not look back for fear that its headlights were locked onto him.

“That was easy,” said Pon-3 as he watched him run. Another one got far too close to his tire and found himself being swept off his feet with his head making painful contact with Pon-3’s trunk.

Vinyl and the driver met back at the center of the carnage in the two minutes it took the song to finish. Around them around twenty large lackeys lay sprawled around in various states of pain, unconsciousness and hearing damage.

Above them, Beauty Brass confirmed that the girl who delivered the batch of speakers had fled the scene. She blew on her bangs in frustration at the ever-so-typical behaviour of singers. Utterly useless when you needed them. A real band wouldn’t need to depend on some voice. She emerged from her office and locked eye-to-shade contact with the intruder.

“I admit, DJ, I did not expect you this early.” She blew a menacing tone on her sousaphone rather than go for a chuckle. “You have absolutely no idea what we’re doing, do you?”

Vinyl didn’t move a muscle before giving her a mild shrug in response.

“Your defiance is amusing. But I’m sure you know you are no match for me. After all nothing can—”

Vinyl put two fingers to her mouth and whistled to get Beauty’s attention. She raised her right hand as if to present something missing.

Beauty had an eyebrow raised before she understood what that gesture meant. “If you’re looking for her she is not here. The cello player has other things to contend with.” It was her turn to put on the manic grin of a music enthusiast. “Things you will never see coming.” She closed her eyes and blew a sequence of special notes. The lackeys that had the misfortune to still be awake found themselves writhing in agony as they desperately tried to shut out the magically maniacal music.

Beauty ended her solo with a well deserved cackle. That exceeded her expectations. She was probably even going to get first chair for it. She opened her eyes to survey the damage and take in the—

Her jaw nearly fell off the catwalk.

Vinyl stood in the center of the warehouse casually tapping her hand on her thigh. She grinned at Beauty before pointing at the plugs in her ears. The lump she could see on the brass-player’s throat was very satisfying. She brought out a remote like device and pointed it at her ever loyal car.

“This is going to be fun,” said Pon-3.

The next morning, the top story on all the news outlets was the report of a moderate earthquake with its epicenter somewhere in the industrial section of Canterlot.

“She gave up much faster than I expected,” said Pon-3 as Vinyl cruised him towards the concert grounds. “Well, at least you’ll be able to see the end of that band contest CHS is hosting.”

Vinyl shrugged. There was something wrong about the whole event that she couldn’t put her finger on. Everyone started acting different ever since and she would really rather not have to watch everyone try to rip each others throats out.

She could hear the reverberations from the performance of one of the finalists, Trixie and the Illusionists if she wasn’t mistaken, as they approached the grounds. She had to put her shades down slightly as she saw a purple bundle rapidly running down the sidewalk.

“Hey, isn’t that that magical girl’s dog?” asked Pon-3.

She eased off the gas and stepped on the breaks before stepping out and blocking the pooch’s path.