The Last Minute

     "-here on Canterlot Real FM, coming at you live on this beautiful evening with all the hits, all day-"

     An energetic male voice blared from the small desk radio amidst the clutter jungle that was the DJ's nightstand, quickly followed by the soulful jazz intro of a song Vinyl had heard one too many times. A groan rumbled in her throat as a hoof thrusted from the blanket heap, pawing around for the snooze button, knocking a glass over as it did.

     Vinyl gave an incoherent grumble again as she rolled over. Rubbing at her eyes with a yawn like a tired, discontent foal, she kicked off her comforter, throwing it onto the ever-growing linen heap at the foot of her bed.

     She sat up, watching the last sunset light slide off her mattress and threaten to leave her messy room in darkness if she didn't get her flank up right now. Other ponies may not have had a problem springing out of bed in the early evening hours, a long day sleep leaving them refreshed, but for Vinyl, waking up sucked, even at 6 pm.

     She oozed out of bed, rumpling her chronically messy hair with a hoof as she trudged to the bathroom like the undead. The water of the running sink was a good slap of reality.

     Mornings, or, evenings in the Scratch household were always the same: old grind: slide out of bed, stumble over plastic cups and dead glowsticks, then hastily get ready and leave for the nightclub. Today, however, felt different to Vinyl; while she was still as groggy as always, she felt lighter, a feeling she could not reckon with. It was a stupid kind of happy.

     A gray, mare-shaped, cello-playing lover kind of happy.

     A quick shower, teeth-brushing, and a good long stare at the hairbrush before deciding to go without yet again later, the white mare was snatching her glasses from a side table as she left her flat. She tightened her black equipment bag over her back as her keys rattled around in the lock.

     Vinyl turned and took a deep lungful of the night air. It was cold and crisp, the gust of a refrigerator opening filling her lungs. She stepped carefully down the steps from her building's doorway, slippery with rain, before jumping happily onto the damp gray paving, trotting along merrily. Ponies passed her, some looking dreary, bundled in trenchcoats or woollen scarves, but Vinyl had a nod and a grin for each of them as she continued, the cold not bothering her at all.

      The streets of Canterlot, or her district at least, were buzzing with life, particularly after the sun set. Chatter in foreign languages floated to her ears from little groceries dotting the street corners, mixed with the splash of puddles of passersby stepping in them, and muffled tunes coming from the chunky headphones of an artsy stallion as he turned into a graffiti-painted archway that read to have a slam-poetry open mic free-for-all just that night only.

     Dodging a group of laughing, rowdy mares, Vinyl stepped down the muddy stairs into the subway. She stood by herself on the cold yet humid platform, pulling her bag strap tight. As the train rolled in, Vinyl brushed her bangs aside, tucked her glasses in her bag, and hopped aboard. Even under gaze of the creepy stallion with the oversized coat in the corner seat--lovingly nicknamed Crazy-Eye Carl by Vinyl and Flash once upon a drunk subway ride-- the white mare felt unusually chipper.

     She hardly registered when the train screeched to a stop, but cleared her head quickly and left the station.

      The mechanical whoosh of a metro rail passing over Vinyl as she walked under a stone bridge over the street went almost unnoticed, the smell of freshly-baked croissants tempting her into a seedy but homey little diner on the corner.

     "Hey, Mr. M," Vinyl greeted, leaning over the diner counter and letting her back hang behind her. "One croissant and a coffee please. To go."

     A gruff stallion rounded the corner, flicking a cigarette butt into the garbage. "Vinyl, a coffee and a croissant to go, yeah? Like every day?" He chuckled and tucked the pastry into a white paper bag, before turning to pour her coffee.

     "What can I do, your coffee's the second best around." Vinyl complimented, letting her eyes wander around the rack small items by the register. "Y'know what, lemme get a pack of Mareboro with that."

     The stallion turned, placing down the coffee cup and walking to the cigarette rack. "What, only second best?"

     Vinyl caught the smokes he slid across the counter to her, grinning. "Hey, normally it'd be third, but you get the benefit of the doubt." She dropped several bits on the counter, lifting her goods with a flick of magic. The mare backed into the diner door, pushing it open to a gust of cold air. "Have a good morning, Mr. M,"

     "It's 7:30!"

     She laughed aloud and continued onto the chilly, brightly-lit street. "Whatever!"

*~*~*

     "Damn, it's freezing, did someone open th-" a young brown stallion called from under his table, taking a break from fiddling with cords for a moment to turn around. "Oh, hey Vinyl." He greeted, seemingly forgetting about the cold in an instant.

     The mare entered the empty nightclub and let out a heavy exhale, the door shutting behind her. "Thank Celestia, it's warm in here. I could practically feel my horn retracting out there." She laughed, crossing the floor toward the stage.

     "Yeah, it's wild. Winters don't usually get this cold in the city." He concurred, busying himself with the cables again. "You setting up?"

    The DJ shivered once and dropped her equipment bag against a speaker. "Yeah." She dove into her own cable salad, detangling a spectacular knot, but wearing a grin she couldn't derive heads or tails of. "It's gonna be a good night, I can tell."

     "Yeah?" The young stallion chuckled, his voice slightly muffled from under the table. "Why d-AAUghh Luna damn it!" He exclaimed, frustrated with something Vinyl could not see.

      "Uh, Flash, d'you want some help?"

      Flash blushed furiously red. Their boss, Mr. Beat, sure, he could help--Flash could withstand the short-fused city stallion calling him a 'nitwit' once or twice--but Vinyl, of all ponies, no. "N-nah, it's okay."

     She was already behind him. Celestia, the mare was fast. And quiet too. "Don't be dumb, scootch." She demanded, wiggling her way under the table next to him. He moved, flustered and thankful for the dim lighting.

     Flash cleared his throat. "It's uh, a frayed wire."

     Vinyl squinted. "Oh, pfft, that's nothing." A tongue of magic was all it took to seal the split back together. "You should see some of the shit I have to deal with sometimes." She scooted backwards and out from under the table, doubly messing her mane. The DJ flashed a cocky grin. "Helps to be a unicorn."

     Flash gave a short laugh, playful yet derisive, as he stood, marching to the other side of his table. "Yeah, whatever. You know what they say about earth ponies though," he leaned over with an equally cocky and challenging look. "We're way better at sex."

     It was Vinyl's turn to laugh. "I doubt that."

      "Alright ladies," Mr. Beat's drill-sergeant-esque voice caused them both to jump. Neither of them had heard him enter. "Doors open at 9. And I better have my lights and music done flirting by then."

     "You got it boss." The white mare moved to her own setup, her subwoofers humming as she started up her equipment. Vinyl, her hooves flying over switches and dials, leaned over her table, one brow cocked to Flash in a mischievous grin. "You can't know that anyway, Flash." She whispered. She wasn't going to take the chance of Mr. Beat overhearing again.

     The red-maned stallion leaned back, unraveling a cable in his hooves. "Whaddaya mean?"

     "You've never been in bed with me"

     Another crimson flush.

*~*~*

    By the time the salty, alcohol-y smell that was left lingering in the club began to thin, and the last trashed, bass-high pony stumbled out the door, the night was no longer young. It was middle-aged, at best.

     "2:37." Vinyl read from the little display at the corner of her table. "Decent. Sweet job on the lights, Flash." She slid her glasses off the bridge of her snout, feeling hot and muggy as her bangs stuck to her forehead.

     Flash grunted in skeptical laughter. "Ha, yeah right, I stuffed those ponies so full of strobe they'll be shitting rave for a week." Vinyl gave an amused snort, and the stallion continued. "Nailed the music though."

     The DJ held the power button on her main speaker down, satisfied with the click and whir of the huge machine shutting down. She lifted her head, grinning as though a truer statement had never been said. "Ya think?"

     Flash looked at her seriously. "Oh yeah," he began, before breaking into the dopey smile of a smug pony. "They always like soothing crib music like yours at Soundline."

     Had she not been entangled in cords yet again, the DJ would have been over there faster than one of her pitch frequencies to whap him one. "Crib music? If that's crib music, I want to meet that foal." She laughed, before pausing. "And what's Soundslime or whatever?"

     "Soundline," he corrected, "It's a music competition. You team up, and teams fight each other with original sounds for total audio dominance. Big thing, actually."

     It sounded great to Vinyl, a tantalizing challenge. The champion title practically sung a siren's song to her. "Hey, that sounds pretty cool. Do you have to sign up or something?"

     Flash nodded, stepping off the stage to a small, add-loaded bulletin board in the corner. "Yeah, we've been carrying their fliers forever, what kind of rock are you living under, Vinyl?" He tore a colorful sheet from the board, trotting back up to the stage with the less-than-lovely taste of paper in his mouth.

     Taking it from him, the white mare laid it on her table to read, wondering to herself how she missed something with such bold print anyway. "A big one, apparently."

     Her eyes rolled the intrusive writing as she read, hearing a zipper zip as Flash returned to packing up. "So it's a team thing, yeah?"

     "Mmhmmm..." He paused, looking up. Where was she going with this? In the 'ask-Flash-to-be-your-partner' direction, hopefully.

     Vinyl folded the page and stuffed it into her bag, turning around with a giant, excited beam on her face. She flung the packed back over her back, uncaring of the cables that hung over the edges like vines. "Aw man, Flash, this is perfect!"

     He smiled, his hopes flying somewhere in the mesosphere. "Yeah!"

    "We've been looking for something fun for both of us to do, I'm a musician, she's a musician..."

     "Yea-what?"

     The stallion looked as though he'd just been unceremoniously backhanded, but Vinyl hardly noticed. Glee and foalish excitement bubbled in her. It was a stupid kind of happy.

     A gray, mare-shaped, cello-playing future Soundline Queen of Music partner kind of happy.