Octavia sighed, ever so slightly. She didn’t want anypony to see her boredom, but it was there. She had better places to be. Most nights, she wanted to go home, have some hot chocolate by the fire, maybe read a book. Instead, she was stuck here, greeting one nameless personality after another. Yes, these were her fans and admirers and paid her bills, but the show was over, and she wanted to leave. This was the part of the recitals that Octavia hated the most.
It was just after dark, and the ponies were finally beginning to leave Canterlot Auditorium. Octavia dutifully stood by the door and wished them well. Once the majority of them had gone, she made her escape, darting backstage to collect her coat before exiting through the back door. A few stragglers had remained out front, talking amongst themselves, undoubtedly hoping that Octavia herself would appear and grant them the gift of conversation. Not tonight. Octavia had better ideas.
The air outside was chilly, so Octavia didn’t dawdle on her way back to her apartment. She had purposefully chosen it for the proximity to the concert hall, just for such an occasion as frigid weather. The building was unassuming, keeping the secret of luxury away from the city, for the inside was plush indeed. Her budget allowed for such a opulence, as being first chair in the most prominent orchestra in Equestria paid quite well. Not as well as many other famous musicians, but Octavia took pride in her work, and she was content.
Winding her way to the top of the building, Octavia entered her suite and closed the door behind her. She didn’t bother locking it yet, as she would be leaving soon. Tossing her coat unceremoniously onto the couch, Octavia wrestled her signature purple bowtie off. It was graciously hung on the hook by the door, and Octavia whirled off to her bedroom. She spent only a moment in her large and quite full closet before deciding on tonight’s attire.
A black shirt went first, a vulgar term splashed across her chest, and an artful tear on the back. A black fabric bracelet went on her left leg, just below her knee. A single silver charm was woven into it, a treble clef. A matching black choker went around her neck, this one with short metal spikes. Octavia paused before selecting both the electric blue and white mane extensions. She pushed her mane forward, letting the black hair fall haphazardly around her face. Moving to the bathroom, Octavia admired herself in the mirror, not quite satisfied. Vivid purple lipstick and what would normally qualify as far too much eyeliner was applied. Finally, a jar of washable paint was fetched from under the sink, and with two quick brush strokes, she painted a thick white X over her cutie mark. Looking back to the mirror, Octavia smiled. She looked like a perfectly good Scratcher.
She went slowly down the stairs as she left the building. Once she was outside, it would be easier to not be identified, but her neighbors would see through the ridiculous outfit far too quickly. It simply would not do for Octavia, known far and wide as a symbol for grace and aristocracy, to be spotted dressed like a hooligan.
The thought once again made Octavia grit her teeth as she went outside and oriented herself north. She wanted to be who she was, simple as that, but she had to lie and pretend not to know the name Vinyl Scratch, much less admit to being a Scratcher, one of the most devoted of showgoers. It was a community she loved and spend much of her weekend nights galavanting with the other Scratchers, but they only knew her by the alias Tek. To them, she was just another loyal fan of DJ-PON3, no one of prominence. She often wondered how they would react if they ever realized they routinely rubbed shoulders with one of the “stuck up, white collar assholes,” as the upper class was often referred to. Octavia had harbored suspicions that more than one of the other Scratchers was a pretender as well, but it was something she never cared to reveal. If anything, she would steer others away from that train of thought. Let them let their hair down, as she did.
The R3V was packed, as it always was when DJ-PON3 played at the club she owned and operated. The blue and white neon lights were blinking and flashing recklessly, and the heartbeat of a nightclub at work pulsed through the concrete beneath Octavia’s hooves. Walking up to the bouncer, Octavia flashed her VIP pass and went straight in, much to the irritation of the long line of casual visitors leading down the sidewalk.
Inside, the strobe lights and lasers did their noxious dance, somewhat illuminating the packed dance floor and busy bar. Octavia bypassed all this, flashing her VIP pass again to be given access to the stairwell off to the side. Going down, the smell of beer and sweat gave way to cigarette smoke and finer liqueurs. The music still thumped away overhead, but it was muffled to the point civilized conversation could be held. The VIP lounge was cushy, large couches along all the walls. There weren’t nearly as many ponies here, but each and every one of them were dressed as garishly as Octavia. She was spotted as soon as she walked in, and a group in the far corner waved her over. A short mare with lime green hair stood as Octavia approached, cigarette dangling precariously between her lips.
“Tekky!”
“Hey, Rozzy.”
Octavia snagged the cigarette out of Rozzy’s mouth and took a deep drag, settling into the couch beside her friend. Rozzy plucked the ashtray from the table and set it on Octavia’s leg, taking the cigarette back and leaning against Octavia’s side. Rozzy reached into a purse on the floor and supplied a pack of cigarettes, from which Octavia took one gratefully. Lighting it, Octavia closed her eyes and let herself simply exist for a moment. She felt like she belonged here just as much as on stage with a cello.
“How long till the show starts, Roz?”
“About three hours.”
Octavia took a drag of the cigarette and relaxed against the sofa. Rozzy lay against Octavia, face against the grey mare’s neck. Octavia loved sitting there in the corner, cuddled up with Rozzy. The ponies around them continued smoking and drinking and talking, not paying them much attention. They were often so postured. They weren’t a couple, not really, but Octavia quite enjoyed the proximity. She enjoyed the way Rozzy smelled, the way her breath felt against Octavia’s neck, the occasional gentle, wandering hoof. Often, Octavia wondered if Rozzy was gay. She was fairly sure she herself wasn't, but then again, she spend most of her weekend nights cuddling with a mare. What’s wrong with two straight mares enjoying each other’s company? It was exactly the kind of questionless companionship that Octavia loved about being a Scratcher.
A few ponies came and went, the regular bustle of a busy club, but most of the ones in the VIP lounge were already there, and stayed. They always arrived hours early to a show, waiting on the vaulted DJ-PON3 to begin her magic. Octavia smoked more cigarettes and cuddled with Rozzy. She unwillingly got pulled into a conversation regarding political matters, of which the others were well versed but of differing opinions.
Eventually, it was time for the opening act of tonight's show. Glitz was an up and coming DJ on the scene, and fortunate to have had Vinyl Scratch hear and like his first demo tape. She had offered him a place at her club as a regular performer, as well as warming up when she played home shows. While Vinyl preferred to be locked in the office upstairs before shows, Glitz always made it a point to be in the VIP lounge, warming up with shots. It intrigued Octavia, as it reminded her all too much of her forced socializing at her recitals, but altogether different. Glitz was just being Glitz. He didn’t have to pretend to be polite or friendly. He was just another pony at a club. Octavia was jealous, although not too much. She was fairly confident she had a nicer apartment.
Glitz took one last shot and slammed the glass back to the bar, the small crowd around him hooting and cheering. With a few traditional phrases of encouragement chasing him, he went upstairs to perform.
“Go get ‘em, Glitz!”
“Go fuck it up!”
“Go hack it!”
Glitz was gone, and the attitude of the room subtly changed. The warm up act meant that the time for the real show was almost upon them. Speakers hidden around the room were turned on, at a low volume, helping to enhance the music filtering down from above. Ponies who had been lounging in the shadows rose and went to the bar, getting various alcohols to better prepare for the event. Octavia and Rozzy parted and rose, as much as neither really wanted to, but a challenge had suddenly been issued from the bar, and neither would turn it down.
Eleven quick shots later, the challenger had surrendered, and Octavia felt like she was properly prepared for the show to begin. Good thing, too, as it was about to begin. The Scratchers made their way upstairs, where Glitz was just finishing his bowing, and left the stage. The lights lowered, and in the near absolute darkness, the Scratchers pushed their way to the front and center of the stage. Strained silence permeated the club as everypony anxiously waited for the legend to arrive. Shapes could be somewhat discerned on stage, large cabinet speakers and other equipment being carefully arranged by the stage workers. Finally, after what seemed like forever, a single blue spotlight shot from the ceiling, highlighting the unoccupied DJ booth. A few feeble cheers echoed, but most of the crowd still waited in silence.
After another few seconds of baited breath, Octavia joined the screaming and howling as Vinyl Scratch, DJ-PON3, stepped into the light. Purple shades covered half her face, and her vicious blue mane stuck up, jagged and messed as always. A single white hoof raised in the air, and the cheering in the club redoubled, but was drowned out as the hoof came smashing down on a button. A thick, juicy bass tone blasted forth, overwhelming every other sound. Her hooves a blur, DJ-PON3 added to the track, melodies and synth patterns, creating a song bit by bit on stage, a unique masterpiece not to be recorded and never to be replicated.
Octavia closed her eyes, and lost herself in the noise.
Author's Note
I have no idea where I'm going with this. The idea came to me a few nights ago during a bout of insomnia, and I took it and ran.
