“Tavi, I’m home.” Vinyl Scratch chucked her saddlebags on the couch and headed to the kitchen. The concert had been a farce, there was no way that that crazy pink mare’s raps had been better than hers, but the judges were deaf and the audience was dumb, cause they thought they were. Vinyl didn’t even stay for the rest of the concert; she’d swung by the chow house for some grub, but it was closed; and then remembered that it was owned by the pink chick’s… parents who had gone to the concert to help cheer her on. The pizzeria was also closed and so Vinyl had gone home early, hoping something good had materialized in the fridge since last time she… wow.
Someone had broken into the house and cleaned it!
The kitchen was clean, all of it. The sink was clean, the bench was clean, even the table was clean, and set for two. Vinyl sniffed something delicious in the air, and followed her nose to the oven where the best apple pie in Ponyville sat crisping, waiting for – “Vinyl!” Scratch spun around and saw Tavi in the hallway, all dolled up in a pretty red dress and not happy to see her, “What- er, I-I thought you weren’t going to back until after midnight.”
Vinyl stepped away from the oven, smirked broadly and sighed deeply, “Flunked out in the first round; really had my spirits down but then I come back and find that you made all this just to cheer me up. Thanks Tavs, I really appreciate it.”
“This isn’t for you Vinyl. I’m… meeting someone.”
“Really? If you’d told me earlier I could have found a guy and we could have double dated.”
Octavia hissed, squeaming under all her immaculately brushed fur, “I didn’t want you here. Whenever I have something and you get involved you always seem to have a way of messing it up. Please; tonight is very important to me and I’m asking you as a friend, please just go into your room and do something quiet for the next few hours.”
“Ouch! If you really didn’t want me here that bad you only needed to ask. Just tell me who the guy is that’s gonna get lucky tonight.”
Octavia rolled her eyes, “Is that the only reason you can conceive of for a mare and a stallion having dinner together? It’s business.”
“Oh?”
Octavia smiled and drew herself up with that sham air of superiority she’d been practicing. “Big Hit.” Vinyl blinked; Octavia stared in disbelief, “The president of the Manehatten Records company.”
“…Never heard of him.”
Octavia scoffed, “You can’t be serious! His company’s sold more than a third of the records in Equestria, and organizes half of the major theater debuts.” Vinyl stared, “Sapphire Shores, Glamor Song, Carillon, Presto Beat; I know you’ve heard about them, I’ve heard you listening to their music. All no one’s before Big Hit discovered them; all stars after.”
“Glamor Song…” mused Vinyl thoughtfully, “Isn’t she the mare that overdosed last month?”
“Yes.”
“And hadn’t she just quit her job like… a week before?”
“…Yes.”
Vinyl leaned over with a grin, ran her hoof across her throat and whispered, “I reckon Hit Big was angry she ran out on him, and so he killed her to get even.”
Octavia rolled her eyes, “Must you be so infuriating!? She was let go because she had a substance problem. She tried to null her failure with a bigger substance problem and got what was coming to her, and his name isn’t Hit Big it's Big Hit.”
“And now he wants you to replace the chick he offed last month.”
Octavia hissed; Vinyl waited for her response, hoping it would be witty, but instead, Octavia glanced at the clock and nearly jumped out of her skin, “He’s going to be here any minute. Please, will you just go into your room and be quiet?”
“Alright, alright.”
“And take your filthy saddlebags with you!”
Vinyl walked into the lounge room, noticing Octavia’s cello and bow were laid on their stand in the middle of the floor, apparently ready for a private concert. Scratch got her stuff in telekinesis, and since her horn was already glowing, Octavia didn’t notice as Vinyl sliced cleanly through her bow strings.
As Octavia fretted over the pie in the oven, Vinyl went up to her room, sat at the window, and waited; glad to all that was holy that she had flunked out in the first round at the club. It wasn’t long before a middle-aged unicorn stallion came knocking at the door to be greeted by a glamourous Octavia, ready to give her music, soul, and plot for the concert deal she thought she wanted.
As the door closed behind them, Vinyl flipped out her window and listened to theirs. Octavia’s usual small talk, Big Hit’s bogus flattery, Octavia poured them both wine; it was sickening. They did actually talk about music eventually; Octavia went to fetch her cello and then realized her bow had been cut. She panicked for about eight seconds, got herself under control and apologized profusely before dashing up the stairs like a suicidal hen to restring it. As her bedroom door slammed shut, Vinyl walked calmly in the front door, sat down at the table opposite to Big Hit, and ate the chocolate-studded wafer Octavia had left as his appetizer; “Get lost.”
Big Hit raised an eyebrow, “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Tavi doesn’t need you and if she had brains she wouldn’t want you; so leave.”
Big Hit looked at her carefully, weighing each word; “…I don’t really think that that’s your decision to make.”
“I’m making it my decision. Tavi and I have a good thing going here as housemates, and I won’t let you ruin it. She’s not going with you and that’s final; I forbid it.”
Big Hit leaned forwards carefully, lowering his voice; “You’re not your father’s daughter anymore Vinyl Scratch; you don’t get to make those kinds of demands.”
“I’m the only member of my family whose retired from the business in three generations, and lived more than a month after the occasion. There are eleven possible explanations, and none of them bode well for you if you cross me.”
Big Hit paused for a moment like he was trying to count to eleven on his hooves. There were really only six explanations, but she’d always liked making him feel small. “…So the rumors are true then?”
“You don’t know the tenth of it, but I’m not going to explain it to you because it’s none of your business. Nothing in this town is. What I will tell you though is that it might not be long before I’m back in my dad’s favor.”
“Really?” Big Hit seemed almost amused.
“Yeah, really.” Vinyl took a sip of Big Hit’s wine, winced at how sour it was, added a few sugar cubes for taste and sampled her creation, “I was thinking of writing him a song for his next birthday called ‘Whose fault it really was when the thesterals found the facility in San Franciscolt.’ I’m still working out all the lyrics, but the music is going to be bloody awesome, full of breaks and rips and smash downs; and if daddy doesn’t like it, I could always play it at my club and have the whole crowd screaming bloody murder before I finish the intro.”
Big Hit didn’t say anything, he’d been trained to control his emotions, but one corner of his mouth was twitching slightly and his left ear was turning inwards; two telltale signs which Vinyl knew he reserved only for a very special level of screwed. “I know what your concerts are a cover for. I know what happens to the performers who ‘work’ for you. You will not take Tavi.
She’s going to be coming down those stairs in one minute; when she does, you’re going to make a lame excuse about why you can’t stay; not a good excuse, a lame excuse. Then you’re going to leave and if you ever try to snare Tavi again, I swear I will kill you. Nod if you understand.”
Big Hit nodded slowly, and Vinyl spat into the mostly empty wine glass and passed it back to him. “You can finish that if you want.” Big Hit swallowed it in one gulp and Vinyl leaned back satisfied, and not a moment too soon. Octavia’s door slammed open and Octavia came bounding down the steps with her repaired cello bow as Vinyl moved with unnatural speed into the laundry room under the stairs, and stood in the shadows.
“I’m sorry,” panted Octavia, blushing desperately and fumbling for her cello; “I don’t know what happened but I’m ready now and –”
Octavia stopped when she noticed that Big Hit was standing and putting his coat back on; “I’m sorry Miss Octavia; but I just received an urgent call that” – Vinyl shook her head; “I just realized” – Vinyl ran her hoof across her neck, “I left my oven on!”
Big Hit checked his pockets and then ran out the door, forgetting to close it on his way out. Octavia stared after him, forlorn and confused until she heard a snicker from behind her. Octavia spun around in one furious moment glancing between Vinyl and the open door. Vinyl watched as that little hamster that ran around in Octavia’s head managed to connect some dots, put on boxing gloves, then found a biggest-ass loudspeaker it could carry and began yelling into the mouthpiece.
She was so cute when she got angry.
Author's Note
This has been sitting completed on my hard drive for over a year now, along with other short stories that are waiting their turn to be linked into the grand scheme of Limits of the Horizon.
My health's been bad for most of the year though and it's been a while since I've posted anything so I decided it was time to let this bird fly. This will end up being very important later on; particularly regarding Luna and her second imprisonment. The three avatars Enigma chose in Forsaken were Denorious, Vinyl Scratch and Smarty Pants; and his decisions were not random.
