Evil Empire

"So, acid. Huh?"

Trixie groaned, rubbing her forehead. Vinyl couldn't help but respond with a brief chuckle.

"Gotta say, world domination or not, these Nazis of yours sure do have a sense for humor."

Some vile sort of irony had it that Trixie got transferred to Canterlot hospital only two days after walking up to Flash, and literally beating him to it. Of course, she didn't feel particularly excited about it. And neither did Vinyl about having to stop by that Saturday afternoon.

For most of their conversation, the blue-skinned girl had remained rolled up in her blankets, an embittered frown on her face. Rarely would she sit herself up, revealing the bandages around her arms. Alongside them an oversized, white t-shirt bearing the words Ha-ha, you're dead came into view.

Even now, she had obviously decided not to drop her casual act.

"You know what's bothering me the most about all this? Not being able to perform at the showcase, that's what. Seriously, who's gonna open all those plebeians' eyes, now?" Trixie crossed both arms, while throwing her head back onto the bed's pillow. A metallic ring escaped from it on impact, as she momentarily squeezed her eyes shut in a mix of agony and frustration.

"Well..." Vinyl began, trying hard not to laugh. "There's Derpy's gig, up against your so called strippers in one of the semi-finals. The other one contains the Rainbooms..." Trixie snorted on hearing that name. "...and, well...you."

The magicians eyes widened, as soon as Vinyl concluded her informative monologue. "Wait...but how am I still in?"

"Kind of a long story," Vinyl answered, rubbing her forehead. "Basically, your gig managed to get the best results in your tier. Apart from you, there was only...Flash, whose band withdrew for, well...medical reasons. Then they had a bunch of eco kids, getting knocked off the competition first-hand for lacking proper character names or development. And Snips and Snails rap...thing somehow set up an acoustic torture method none of us had prepared ourselves for. They eventually received a score of negative 213 points with what they...sang."

"...and?"

"And you didn't perform at all, but never resigned from the tournament, either. That gives you an exact zero points, beating every other contestant."

Trixie raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "So, let Trixie get this straight. She...I did nothing, but still got the most credit? Sounds like a trap!"

"Nah. Just how proper business administration works, I think," Vinyl replied with a shrug. "Also, what's with your self-references? Are you gonna settle for first or third person, or what? Cause switching between them is getting kinda annoying, you know."

"Trixie would like to point out that none of this would happen, if they wouldn't have taken me off her diet. Also, the food in this place is awful enough to make her look forward to my...her release more than anything."

"Meh." With a sudden motion, Vinyl let go off her position next to the bed, and walked over to the room's massive window.

The view outside was anything but impressive. From an elevated position like this one, Vinyl presumed one could easily get a glimpse of the entire city, hadn't it been for the massive, gray skyscraper across the street. Gray, for the most part, at least. The facade was vastly hidden by an colorful, political banner. It displayed a man and a woman with dark-gray skin, facing the viewer with a vicious smirk. Again, a stars and stripes background was waving behind them, while an eye enclosed in some golden, glowing triangle seemed to be hovering above both their heads.

Sombra / Crysalis '16 - At least we've got our hair under control, the slogan, placed below them, read.

"I heard you're outta here on Sunday morning?" she asked, not bothering to turn back around to face Trixie.

"Pretty much so, why?"

"Well, I've checked your lunch schedule. Seems like you'll be getting a bacon burger with chili cheese fries that day. Or won't...to be more precise."

"Well, there'll be other opportunities, I guess," Trixie answered, shrugging.

"They're also gonna serve peanut butter crackers for dessert. Or so I have read."

Trixie chocked on a non-existent drink she wasn't holding, as her eyes widened once more. "You're kidding, right? Or not? Dammit, I've gotta stay in here long enough for...ugh..."

"Ugh...what?" Vinyl quickly replied, turning back around.

"I...I might not be feeling so well. Matter of fact, things just got a lot worse..." Trixie's eyes widened, as she pointlessly started staring at the ceiling above her. "Oh shit, oh shit. Not good. Pretty sure I've got...uh...prostate issues or something. Well, sure can't go home like that..."

"Yeah...right." In a mixture of confusion and discontent, Vinyl put both hands to her hips. "You know, you can't actually get something like that, right?"

"Is that so?" Trixie vigorously responded. "And how could you tell, you of all people?"

"Uh...hell, I don't know. Like, sixth grade biology? Says right there, you're a woman, you're not gonna get that."

"A strong, and independent woman." Trixie cautiously lifted a finger. "As such, Trixie may acquire whatever disease she wishes to."

It took about another painful thirty minutes, until Vinyl could eventually shake off her self-proclaimed comrade's selfish attitude, and headed out the door. Right there, she could have resolved all those issues, hadn't Trixie reminded her last minute why she had come over in the first place.

Quickly going over the homework for this week together, that was. Principal Celestia hadn't asked anything but that one, simple task of her. Then again...

"Crap...yeah, I'll text ya...later." Without leaving Trixie any more room to protest, Vinyl quickly rushed out onto the corridor, pulling the door shut behind herself. She sighed. Hitching a ride halfway across town all for nothing could be pretty depressing. Still, she was not going back in there. She turned around on one heel...

...immediately finding herself face to face with one of the local nurses, who carried a tray with her. Whatever it contained strongly reminded Vinyl of her everyday cafeteria lunch. Unless it happened to be Taco Tuesday, of course.

"Lunchtime for Ms. Lulamoon," the middle-aged lady told her with a warm smile. "She is currently available, isn't she?"

"Uh, well su..." Just before concluding her sentence, Vinyl quickly took in a moment of consideration.

"Actually, she didn't seem very hungry. Or sociable, for that matter. Probably for the best you just leave her alone for now. Oh, and..." she added, already walking towards the corridor's exit. "She definitely has to be out by Sunday morning. Big week coming up after that!"