Dust swirled and formed constellations in the shafts of morning sunlight as the powder-blue unicorn trotted down the shelves of Family Records. Trixie shook her silver mane and glanced at the shelf labels as she looked for her family name. Unfortunately for her, her parents’ last names had been Zebrabottom; she had to walk down all 26 aisles just to reach the “Z” section. The illusionist lashed her tail and grumbled, “Why couldn’t my parents have changed their names to Aardvarkbottom or something?” Finally having reached the Z’s, Trixie tugged down the file labeled Zebrabottom in big black lettering. Opening the manila folder, she began to rifle through its contents. Trixie was trying to uncover her past because she hoped that Star Swirl the Bearded might have been one of her distant ancestors -- it would help to drum up business if the viewers thought they were seeing a direct descendant of the great Star Swirl the Bearded. Seeing a familiar name -- although she couldn’t quite place it -- the showmare pulled out a birth certificate with the name “Jazzy Scratch” emblazoned next to her mothers’ name. Trixie studied a few more, then sighed. She wasn’t related to Star Swirl -- but her cousin was a world-famous DJ.
******
The streets of Manehattan were beautiful at night. Neon street signs of many colors cast fluorescent spotlights onto the streets. Rain made the pavement gleam and mixed colors together to form completely new ones. Freshly baked bread steamed in cozy storefront windows, shining their soft candlelight glow onto the roads. The disc jockey trotted along the road, pleased with the light showers after a hot summer day. She shook her untidy cobalt mane with electric-blue streaks, feeling the cool spray on her muzzle. Vinyl Scratch was working in New Horse City at the moment, remixing the popular classical and modern musics alike and making herself the best musician in town -- or so she thought. The white unicorn yawned, worn out from her busy day at parties and clubs.
Vinyl trotted back into her hotel -- a stunning place known as the Concerto Crescendo -- and nodded at the pony who let her in. “Thanks, bro.” The lobbypony nodded, looking confused, and then remembered something. “Miss Scratch! Another unicorn was here to see you!”
The white unicorn ignored the other pony, for she had stuck a pair of headphones into her ears and was humming along to some tune that only she could hear. The lobbypony huffed loudly and returned to his position at the door. These stuck-up Canterlotians were always forgetting that unicorns weren’t the most important race in Equestria. Oh, well -- they made pretty good doughnuts with those pointy cones on their foreheads.
Vinyl, oblivious to the lobbypony’s attempt to assist, had exited the elevator and arrived at her room, Room 123. She continued humming as she turned the key with a flash of blue magic and opened the door. Her jaw dropped.
There was a blue unicorn standing in her room, which was in tatters, who was paging through Vinyl’s secret diary.
Trixie looked up to see the white unicorn’s red eyes burning into her, shades having been tossed onto a dresser that wasn’t completely destroyed. “Hello, Miss Scratch.”
“Who the hay are you? And what in Equestria did you do to my room?” Vinyl interjected venomously.
“Trixie can fix that. Now, onto more complicated matters --”
“Who’s Trixie?”
“Trixie is irritated that you do not know who Trixie is. Trixie is only the greatest, most powerful -- “
“Are you Trixie? Why are you talking about yourself in the third person? Do you always do that?”
“Look, Trixie has more important matters to discuss than fixing a hotel room. You are Trixie’s cousin. Trixie needs your help.”
“You need my help? You just destroyed my hotel room, read all my secrets, and you want my help? Are you insane?”
“Trixie is your cousin! Now if you’ll just listen to Trixie, you’ll learn what Trixie wants from you! Sit down and let Trixie speak!”
Vinyl Scratch, still fuming, reluctantly sat down on the shredded mattress and glared up at the caped unicorn.
“Now. Trixie needs you to make music. Trixie’s shows will be much more popular if there is music --”
“Hay no!” I’d work for a changeling before I’d even think about working for you! Now just leave me alone!” Scratch stomped out of her hotel room with her diary and her bag, leaving Trixie alone. Was this really the best shot Trixie had at making money? Or would the rest of her life be spent digging ditches? Trixie sighed and trotted out of the room after her furious cousin.
