Vinyl's Fire

“Remind me why we’re here again, Spits?”

Soarin and Spitfire were walking through a rather crowded outdoor festival, numerous songs could be heard playing through the air.

Spitfire rolled her eyes, “I told you already, we might as well spend our off-time doing something interesting for once. Not to mention I was planning on meeting up with an old friend of mine.”

Soarin snorted, “You have a lot of ‘friends’, is this one going to be as bad as the others?”

“I made some mistakes like everyone else,” Spitfire said, slightly irked.

“Yeah, well as long as this friend doesn’t leave you crying for days, then they’re cool with me.” Soarin said, nudging Spitfire with a foreleg.

“Fine, just try not to draw too much attention while we’re wandering around here, I don’t want to deal with any fanatics right now,” Spitfire said.

As the pair wandered around the event, certain loud noises became more audible to them.

Spitfire perked up, looking for the source of the familiar sounding commotion. It was Vinyl Scratch, it was always Vinyl Scratch. Ever since college it had been Scratch. From the moment they met it seemed that Vinyl had an affinity to creating a somewhat controlled chaos wherever she performed. With her crazed electric blue mane, and her purple glasses, she seemed to thrive in situations like the ones she created with her music.

It was hard to tell where Vinyl was looking because of the shades that seemed to follow her everywhere she went.  Somehow Spitfire could still feel herself being picked out of the crowd by her old friend. She could feel what was going to happen next.

“Soarin, I think we should-”

“Spitfire! Get your flank up here!”

“-Nevermind.” Celestia damn it. Spitfire groaned, sometimes she wasn’t sure who played the spotlight better, her or Vinyl. She could only watch as heads in the crowd turned her way, eliminating any chances of escaping fans. Murmurs of excitement rippled through the crowd.

She pushed off the floor taking only two flaps of her wings to reach the stage, landing next to Vinyl. By now the chatter in the gathered crowd has increased tenfold.

“Well, that was going to be my last song for today”- the audience moaned- “but since Spits is here now, I think that warrants one more track.” Cheers erupted from the crowd, eager for one more song.

Spitfire grinned. “I find it amazing that your ears haven’t fallen off yet with all of this constant noise.” Noise blasted from the speakers set up around the stage, signaling the resumption of Vinyl’s performance.

“Comes with the job,” Vinyl replied, while messing with some dials on her setup. Spitfire was having trouble hearing her now over the music and noise from the crowd. She figured further attempts at conversation would be futile.

Stuck on stage with nothing better to do, she let herself get lost in the music, feeling the beats rattling her body. Her eyes combed the crowd, then strayed to Vinyl. It’d been a while since she had met up with her college friend. Vinyl hadn’t changed a bit, it seemed. She still had her hair in the same style as always, combined with the same pair of shades.Her flank still looks sexy too. Spitfire wasn’t one to deny facts.

Then it seemed like in no time at all, the song was over. She could see Vinyl grab the mic and say something she couldn’t hear into it. The crowd seemed to dissipate as Spitfire watched in mild fascination. She barely noticed when she was tapped on the shoulder. Vinyl was saying something, she wasn’t sure what.

“I can’t hear you,” Spitfire said, embarrassed. Vinyl rolled her eyes then her horn glowed, casting a spell.

“That better?” She asked.

Spitfire nodded. “Thanks, Vinyl.”

Vinyl snorted. “No problem, I think you need to go clubbing more though. What happened to the college days, Spits?”

“Some of us can’t part for our job, Scratch,” Spitfire chuckled.

Vinyl laughed. “And being a Wonderbolt is the worst thing ever.”

“I’d like to see you with wings, just so I could put you through half the drills we do,” Spitfire smirked.

“No, thank you, I’m fine.”

Just at that moment, Soarin landed next to the pair. Vinyl blinked.

“Say, aren’t you...”

Soarin struck a confident pose. “Soarin, second in command of the Wonderbolts, at your service.”

“I was going to ask if you were the same pony who mauled a pie at the Gala, but hey that works too.”

“I wish everyone would let me live that down,” Soarin muttered.

“Life is hard, being famous,” Vinyl shook her head. “Is it just you and Spits here, or are the rest of the Bolts’ along too?”

“Just us,” Soarin said, “Unless they snuck off to join us.”

“You guys wanna grab dinner someplace then, my treat?” Vinyl asked.

Soarin’s stomach rumbled.

“I think that’s a yes,” Spitfire replied while smirking.

Not that much later, the group was seated around a table in a small fast-food establishment.

“When you said you were treating,” Soarin said, poking at his hayburger. “I didn’t think you meant these.” Soarin flinched in disbelief in how bad that had come out. “No offense or anything.”

“Everybody likes hayburgers,” Vinyl snorted, taking a bite out of her own. “I’m on kind of a budget, not to mention Spits likes em’ too.”

Soarin shrugged, and took a bite out of his own burger. Spitfire frowned. “What about all of those ponies who were at your set? Surely you have to see some profit from that.”

“Not everyone there’s gonna buy my stuff,” Vinyl said, swallowing her food, “and I’m pretty sure half of the crowd are just going to forget about me. How many other artists do you think they’ll hear at a music festival? Too many to remember me for sure.”

Spitfire’s frown deepened at this, taking a small bite of her own food. Ideas swirled around inside her head, there had to be something she could do to boost up Vinyl. She was the captain of the Wonderbolts! Surely there was something she could incorporate Vinyl into with the Wonderbolts. Something to repay her for all of the help she got from in college. All she needed was some creativity.

While she mulled over the possibilities, Vinyl sat uncomfortably. She hadn’t wanted to seem like she was desperate for bits. This dinner wasn’t going as well as she hoped it would. It didn’t seem as much like college, as it felt like a comparison to how much better off Spitfire was. Vinyl Scratch, charity case.

It was an unrestful minute before normal conversation resumed at the table, ranging from old college stories, to new ones from various places.

“Then he said, ‘Pimp squad for life, baby!’” Vinyl had her head on the table dying in laughter with similar reactions being echoed around the table.

“Are you still going to be around for the the other days of the festival, Vinyl?” Spitfire asked, taking a sip of her drink.

Vinyl nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be around here still.” Spitfire nodded as well, an plan forming in her head. As she was thinking, Vinyl yawned rather loudly. “I think I have to get some sleep,” She said. “I’ve got another set tomorrow.”

Spitfire said goodbye absent-mindedly, while Soarin said his farewells as well. Vinyl gave her a strange look as if to say, ‘What’s eating you?’, before leaving the restaurant.

Soarin turned to face Spitfire, “Alright, what’s up with you?” He asked.

Spitfire blinked, “Me?” She asked. Soarin gave her an unamused look. “I was just thinking of a way to, well, help Vinyl out a little bit.”

“Help her out,” Soarin deadpanned. “No ulterior motives this time?”

“No,” Spitfire said, trying her best to avoid eye contact, before coughing awkwardly. “Anyways, thats not the point here. Do you know those shows we’ve done in the past around a musical routine?”

Soarin’s eyes widened. “Are you really-”

“How do you feel about dubstep?”