Mistress (Adagio's Big Comeback)

Act 1: Boulevard of Jailbroken Phones and Dreams

This was either you at your most genius or most stupid. You decide to take stock and prepare. Again.

You lived by a few nuggets of wisdom you'd learned from your mom.

Always wash behind your ears.

Always look both ways before crossing the street.

And, one of the more recent ones, don't go looking for girls in seedy bars, and that went double for any sort of long term relationship.

You're about to fail two out of three of those life lessons because yeah, sure, you had showered that day. Possibly for the last time, too; you've just been evicted from your apartment and going home to your mom wasn't an option. Not just because you'd flown the nest, either. Just... never mind. Those are bad memories.

As for crossing the street, you were so goddamn out of your mind with worry about what you were about to do, it nearly got you run over twice on the way here.

This wasn't a good neighbourhood either. Muggings were frequent, which made coming here during the day important. You aren't a fighter. You were barely in the nerd clique back in school. All you had then, and have now, was your brain and the things it affords you. Like that job at a fancy tech firm, but you could never forget your passion project, and those two things don't mix; you either grind and simply survive, or you try to succeed, aim to hit your dreams, hit a wall instead and become desperate.

The thing about being desperate is you make weird choices. Life changing ones. Like 'stealing high end electronic components and getting fired' degrees of life changing. Or entering a dangerous neighbourhood to meet and try to convince someone who doesn't know you to help you you levels of desperate. Like how you feel right now.

You stand across the street from a bar called 'Always Raining'. It had a facade of a fancier place, but again, the locale really emphasises the grime on the windows. It didn't matter, because inside here was someone you had been following in some way for years, ever since those less than pleasant days at Canterlot High School. Good old CHS. By pure chance, you heard she was here, and a little scouting you did a few days earlier confirmed those rumours.

A certain woman. A former singer, Adagio Dazzle. A beautiful, mysterious girl who just showed up one day and almost took over the school in a handful of days. She certainly captured your heart, and your mind. Everyone's mind, really, but you wanted to be taken.

Yeah, it isn't what it sounds like; an antisocial geek chasing a hot girl who became a professional singer since school? Dial nine, one and keep the finger poised for when you entered the bar, but you're not a creep! You goddamn swear. This is a business proposition.

No, not that kind either! And besides, cops don't show up here unless someone's actually been shot. More likely, if you cause an issue here, you'll get a knife in the ribs.

You're stalling, and you know it. All you need to remind yourself is that this was it, your last shot at being someone, and not living on the streets. Just the clothes on your back, fifty seven bucks and change, and a jailbroken phone with some extra components poking out the top that would probably flag up as a terror threat at a glance. That and a poster of Adagio Dazzle's all-girl trio, The Dazzlings, from the days when they were still together at the Starswirled music festival from a couple of years ago, right before they broke up.

It was time to stop being a bitch. That never got you anywhere before, and wouldn't now, so you stopped pacing around and crossed the street, and entered the bar. Chad mode time.

The smell of cigarette smoke, beer and spirits was expected but still makes you cough. The view wasn't much better, with dirty, cracked tile flooring, a ceiling fan with only three of its four blades lazily swaying overhead and dim, tobacco stained glass light fixtures hanging from frayed cables that make you nervous and a little sad.

Beside you is a huge, brawny guy with a broken nose, peering over his gentleman's interest magazine, glaring at you like you were something to scrape off his boot. Most of the other clientele weren't much better. But even with this surly guy in close proximity, you quickly develop tunnel vision.

There she is. Adagio Dazzle.

Punkish, spiky purple clothes, solid platform heeled boots, a thick shock of curly orange hair with blonde highlights, like a glam-rock lioness (if lionesses had manes), loosely tied up with a dangerously pointy hair-band. A slim body, which some might call her average in build. You'd call her concisely feminine, with no excess. Efficient, even.

Holy crap, scratch that. Never say that to a woman. Now's not the time for the scientist to take control. No being a bitch. Be bold.

You remember her being darkly beautiful despite her golden skin from the days at CHS. Sweetly smiling one moment, grinning with cunning intent the next. A voice and body built for sex appeal. She played it like a musical instrument and hot damn was she a virtuoso.

Here and now? She had the getup, the looks, but... she looked so defeated. It made you sadder than thinking of the poor, neglected wiring. This wasn't the girl you were crushing over, but maybe you might be the guy to light that fire in her again.

Adagio sat in front of an audience of empty glasses, slumped over the bar with her head resting in one hand and staring at her cellphone in the other. Compared to the glances from everyone else, she hasn't looked at you once. That was probably for the best. It gives you a chance to settle your nerves, otherwise you might have have bolted.

You approach the bar and say, “I'll have a beer and whatever she's been having.”

The barman barely looks at you. “A Siren's Sorrow? That'll be twenty five bucks, kid.”

You guess you should be glad he didn't card your baby-faced ass, but that's dulled by the price of the drinks. You sigh and guess sacrifices have to be made, so you put down the cash.

He slaps the cap off your beer on the bar with the heel of his hand and spills a good quarter of it, then proceeds to pour what was basically an extra strength long maneland iced tea with less cola and an extra shot of rum. You take the drinks, pluck up your courage and approach Adagio.

Holy shit, you're about to talk to the girl of your dreams! You know all her songs, you liked the dark side she represented. This was the moment of truth.

Adagio still hasn't looked at you as you sit beside her and place the cocktail on the bar. She slides it closer to herself and says, in her sultry, velvet voice, “not interested. Get lost.”

And there go your nerves, and you forget how to continue. You see the guy beside the door stand and slap his magazine onto his chair as he begins to skulk over. You've got maybe twenty seconds to play your elevator pitch.

You swig the cold, cheap beer and clear your throat. “How can you tell you're not interested when I haven't told you why I'm here?”

Adagio sighs, throws her phone on the bar with a clatter and turns towards you. Her huge, thick curls flow and flutter around her in a glorious amber cascade, and how she's red in the face from her drink doesn't stop her piercing stare from cutting right through you with a laser-like focus. She then snatches the cocktail and gulps it down in a single go, pushes the glass away so far it almost falls off the bar, and resumes browsing her phone.

“No autographs. You can have Street Tough's, if you want,” Adagio says with a sneer and points behind you.

You can see Mr. Tough just fine without turning, reflected in the mirror behind the bar; the bouncer, lurking so close you can hear him breathing. A soft squeal from his busted nose that makes your skin crawl.

Just relax, you think to yourself. Take a deep breath and just talk. “Why do you think I want an autograph?”

Adagio gives you the stink-eye. “Because of the poster sticking out of your pants, moron. And that better be the only thing sticking up down there, or I'll once again direct you to my friend, Mr. Tough.”

That... was the sound of cracking knuckles behind you.

Don't panic, you think, and panic anyway. Don't goddamn panic. Focus, damn it!

She continues, “and if you plan to leave and follow me later, I'm perfectly prepared.” She pulls a taser from beside her and depresses the switch, and a loud snap sounds from the arc of electricity between the contacts.

“You heard the lady,” Mr. Tough growls at the back of my head, “leave.”

Faster, before you lose some teeth or get electrocuted, dumb ass! “I'm here to help you! Or... I need your help, I guess. Both! See, I'm trying to harness Equestrian magic and-”

Adagio's eyes go wide, then narrow into a killer stare as she hisses through her teeth, “get out!”

Mr. Tough grabs the back of your jacket's collar, and if you thought you didn't have options before, you're officially out of them now. All but one.

You pull out your phone and open a custom app, then throw it on the bar just as you're yanked off the chair and slam hard on the tile floor.

Cheers and woos sound off from the patrons as Mr. Tough kicks you in the ribs and knocks the wind out of you. He then grabs you under the arm and belt, dead-lifts you off the ground and he begins hauling you towards the door.

“Wait!” Adagio shouts.

“Boss?” Mr. Tough stops and turns, which lets you see her as well.

She was standing and staring at your phone as little traces of glowing light pulse softly from the extra components, which are glowing red hot, overtaxed and badly designed for the task.

But it's working. Actual, real magic, being processed, converted and broadcast by overclocked, overtaxed jury-rigged hardware. Equestrian magic, according to what you overheard from Adagio herself back in school, during one of your many failed attempts to get close enough to talk to her but never had the guts.

As the pulses continue, Adagio's eyes flash red and she gasps softly, like she'd been hit by a cool breeze after walking through a scorching desert.

She whispers, “how?” then stares at you and demands, “how is this phone giving off magic!? Just who are you?”

Should have led with that move, you guess. Oh well.

“My name is Radian Wave,” you say, “I'm a scientist. And I think I can give you your powers back.”

Adagio uprights your toppled stool and nods to Mr. Tough, who drops you on your ass and walks off. She points at the stool and says, “explain. Now.”

* * *