Didn't want to pick up that phone and call
Knew you never loved me at all
I'm so tired of being insignificant and small

Mom and Dad we're so through
I hated every minute with you
Time to make my life anew

Life on the streets, it's better this way
Though I'm often hungry and can't find any pay
Hard though it is, I'm glad I didn't stay,
I'm my own pony today.

-Riff Runner, lyrics excerpt from 'How it Was'

The tavern was warm and busy, the friendly drone of chatter and the haze of smoke covered everything. Business was strong, and the bartender found himself busy. In the far corner, surrounded by a number of tables, two musicians lent their talents to the atmosphere. One slate-coated green-maned pegasus stallion bent over his guitar, feather tips pressing the frets, standing next to a unicorn mare with an ashen coat, and a mane of obsidian with a fiery orange streak. Together they sang for the patrons. Just beyond the sound of the guitar, one could hear the soft pitter-patter of the rain out on the streets. A typical Friday night in the city, with ponies going about in the murky light left by the street lamps.

Most of the patrons came in twos and threes, and some even in huge gaggles. The sole exception to this was languishing in a booth toward the back. His long white and yellow mane lay over his face, which was resting on the table. He was barely old enough to be let into the bar, let alone rate the term ‘stallion’. While all the other ponies his age were busy indulging in drink, and even worse vice, he had nothing but a glass of water, and a mess of papers spilling from a folder in front of him.

Venting a groan, Riff Runner shoved his mane out of his eyes and looked up at the clock. Looking back down, one could see his light brown eyes framed against a midnight gray-blue coat. The clock read ten o’clock, and the next auditionee wasn’t supposed to show until ten-fifteen. For lack of anything better to do, Riff put his muzzle back down to the papers and read over the results for the up-teenth time that day.

Twelve profiles, and twelve matching sets of notes concerning the hopefuls who had interviewed greeted his gaze. Each one brought painful memories to his mind. The first three had all sorts of poor tone. One was a pop-style singer, and a mare, when the add Riff had placed had clearly stated that the position was for a stallion, singing something a good deal heavier. The next guy hadn’t even shown up, and the one after that had a horrible accent and couldn’t properly speak Equestrian. It had been like that all day, but most annoyingly of all; every last one of them had songs they’d brought for his band to play. It was plain insulting, even after the add had said otherwise. Why do they always think that their stuff is better? It’s not like I can’t write good lyrics just because I’m the guitarist.

Another dull rumble of thunder reverberated through the room as Riff shoved the papers back into the folder and let his forehead slump back onto the table. He exhaled slowly, coating the tabletop beneath his muzzle with a film of condensation. Wiping away the moisture soothed his troubled mind, and he looked back up just in time to see the tavern door swing open. In walked a pony in a black hat and a dripping raincoat.

The newcomer paused to take a look around, his gaze eventually settling on Riff. They locked eyes for a moment, tired and brown meeting tired and gray for just a moment before the other pony took off his hat and raincoat. This freed up his back to stretch the large and cramped wings underneath. After spreading those wings, the pegasus shook himself mostly dry, and started walking toward Riff.

So this is Shadow Wing. Now that Shadow was not covered in a raincoat, Riff got a good look at him. The last of the night’s hopefuls looked to be five or six years his senior, and shorter. His coloring was an unsightly mix of sickly green and dark blue, but most interestingly, he was wearing silver hoof-caps. One plain, un-engraved metal cap covering each hoof and a bit of the leg. It was an old style, and had been out of fashion for several decades. Most noticeable to the younger unicorn was how Shadow was wearing an absolutely tacky sports watch on the front-left ankle. Riff shoveled the papers back into his folder and pulled out a clean one just in time for Shadow to sit down.

“You’re early.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No, no...” Riff rubbed his forehead and let out a long breath. “In fact, that’s a good thing. Just wasn’t expecting you just yet. We’ll get a bit more time this way. Didja bring what I asked for?”

Shadow proffered a manilla folder in response, which was enveloped in a fiery yellow glow and floated over to Riff. The first thing to greet his eyes upon opening the folder was a resume. What the buck? Does this guy think he’s applying to be a secretary?At the bottom was a phone number, address, and other contact info.

Next up was a selection of spell-tapes, sealed in a clear plastic bag. Most were marked as samples, though two of them bore the names of songs Riff had written. This already put him ahead of several of the idiots who thought they could apply without having even tried any of what they’d be expected to sing.

Behind the tapes was one more piece of paper, laminated and with metal corner covers. At the top sat a magically embossed seal, the spell animating it displaying a sea of multicolored forelegs holding up a scroll against the backdrop of a blazing sun. In fancy bold lettering it read:

THE ROYAL CANTERLOT UNIVERSITY IS PROUD TO PRESENT

ON THIS FOURTEENTH DAY OF OF THE MONTH OF BLOSSOMING

IN THE YEAR OF THE RULE OF OUR PRINCESS CELESTIA

FIVE THOUSAND-ONE-HUNDRED AND EIGHTY FOUR

THE DEGREE OF BACHELOR OF ARTS IN MUSIC TO

SHADOW WING

WITH ALL THE RIGHTS AND PRIVILEGES DUE

Hmm...no middle name. Ok, suppose it isn’t that rare.

At the bottom there were two completely illegible signatures on the lines for dean and president of the college. All and all it looked very official, and it would be good to have guy who had actually studied in the right field. None of the other applicants were in the possession of a degree. Then again, almost any bozo with enough bits to spend four years in school could obtain a degree these days, and ‘music’ could mean just about anything.

“Got a specialty in this degree?”

“Vocals.”

“And your cutie mark...?”

“Acoustics.”

“Well sorry to disappoint, but our keyboardist does all our mixing and production. But that’s besides the point. Let me just go out and say it, today has been rough, and you are probably just going to be another piece of shit for us to get out of the way. Come on back and lets get started.”

Riff hoofed the diploma back over to Shadow, then added all the rest of the contents to his own bundle of misery. Together they got up and headed toward the hall leading toward the back rooms of the pub. One looked to be for storage, another housing for the owner, and the one at the very end all the hall was slightly ajar, with the raised voices of an argument spilling from behind it.

Riff pushed open the door to reveal a meeting room of sorts, now completely repurposed. The table had been pushed into a corner to make room for a drumset, two keyboards, two electric guitars on stands, and a small bank of amplifiers. Sitting on top of those amplifiers was a brown unicorn stallion with a nearly white mane.

“...and what do you mean she blew me off?! She was just busy!”

He was arguing with a red coated, yellowed maned unicorn mare standing behind the keyboards. That was Vivace, and her response was so fast that Riff barely could make sense of what she said.

“Of course she was Sable. She just so happened to ignore the drink you pushed toward her, avoided you all evening accidentally, and she totally didn’t trip you on purpose either. Saving face is gonna be real tough with that bruise on your cheek. If you want this to go away, you should admit that you’re wrong, and then we can talk about something else. I might even give you some advice.”

“Yeah I call BS on that.” The bassist turned to look at the drummer, waving a hoof in an imploring manner. “Kicks, what do you think? Please tell her she’s wrong.”

The burly green earth pony mare behind the drums was sitting very still, the one blue eye not covered by her messy purple mane was staring at the wall, unmoving. It almost looked like she was ignoring Sable, but Riff knew better. Rather than wait, as amusing as the scene was, Riff coughed to get their attention, causing the two unicorns to turn around and look over the newcomers.

“Oh hey Riff, whaddaryou doing back here already? Oh, is that our next guy? Pffft he looks funny. What’s with the hoof caps? Ya think you’re fifty?” exclaimed the keyboardist as she slid over to them.

“Yes, yes he is. Everypony meet Shadow Wing. Shadow Wing, meet Vivace, Sable Scratch, and Double Kick.” Riff pointed in turn to the keyboardist, the bassist, and the drummer before picking up one of the guitars from the stand and slinging the strap over his back. “Hey Kicks, wake up!”

Double Kick jumped in her seat and shook her mane out of her eyes, eliciting a laugh from Sable and Vivace. Well look at this. They all seem plain unhappy to see him. They’re probably just as tired as I am. And who knows. He’ll be probably one more washout before we are finally done for the night...and have to go back to working another shift.

“Ok dude, lets get this started.” Riff flicked the ‘on’ switch on the bank of amplifiers, and adjusted the guitar strap until it was comfortable. He pointed at the microphone standing in the middle of the floor, and Shadow took his place in front of it. “Let’s start with ‘The End’. No I’m not making a pun. You do know it right?”

A loaded, rhetorical question if he’d ever asked one. If Shadow said ‘no’, Riff was showing him to the door. The application package had several demos of the band’s work built in for a prospective singer to listen to and learn. To Riff’s relief, Shadow nodded, and Kicks gave the drum two slow clicks and then four on tempo to start them off. The melodic part to this one was all Vivace, and the guitar part was nothing but power chords, which allowed Riff to pay plenty of attention to how Shadow was singing. He was hitting the notes right on pitch, and right on tone, but the emotion was missing.

The numbers proclaim the last year of the age,

Only one more to turn the ancient page,

For such a long time it was still too short to gauge,

How much of his heart was still consumed in rage.

One final day, the last one of the year,

Just one more for him to live in fear,

The anger and sorrow are all oh so clear,

It was long ago when he ran out of tears.

And time...slips...away...

I can’t wait one more day...

You promised me you were my friend,

Will you hold true in the end?

It was...confusing. Most singers plied their art with passion first and precision second. But as Riff kept strumming along, he couldn’t help but think that Shadow was treating it more like an exercise to be perfected.

Sun dies in the last hour of the day,

Slipping behind the horizon to pave darkness’s way,

he bows his head, and droops his tail to pray,

But decides better and turns the other way.

A minute’s pause in the air before the rainfall,

In which fear causes all though to slow to a crawl,

Against the ages a span unimaginably small,

Among those ages remembered greater than them all.

And time...slips...away...

I can’t wait one more day...

You still promise that you’re my friend,

Hold true ‘cause we’re almost at the end.

And now the instrumental. It’s my job to be machine-precise...not his. This is just plain weird. If he could just act like he believes the words he’s singing it would be perfect. Riff shoved all thoughts from his mind to make room for playing the last verse and chorus while still listening to the singing.

A last second, a last sliver of time,

All fear and terror becomes bliss most sublime,

No reason to shake, no fear of mine,

At the end for which I’ve pined.

And time...is now...all gone...

The journey over and the fight won...

Now tell me are you really my friend?

Because we’re here together at the end.

The song ended, the chord holding perfectly until Riff ran his hoof down the bridge then muted the string with his fetlock, followed by Kick giving a few raps on the snare to end it. A quick check ensured that the audio recorder had caught all of it, and Riff was back to business.

“Ok, that was alright, but you can’t sing it like Discord himself has taken ahold of you and made you boring. It needs emotion. You gotta sing it like you’re really feeling what you sing. Think ya can do that for us?”

“Sure.”

Riff almost shook his head. Seriously, would it have been too much to ask for a ‘YEAH!’ as a reply when more emotion was demanded?

“Ok, well good thing the next one is to work on specifically that, giving some damn feeling. Lets do ‘Crush’.”

This one was a slower and sadder piece, which Riff wrote back on one particularly crappy day of high school. Later he came back and put music to it. He never really could sing it like how he imagined...but had yet to hear anypony do it justice.

I saw you one day,

I don’t remember where,

Then found out you were a friend of a friend,

And didn’t really care.

I learned your name,

But I soon forgot,

Until you came back again and again,

And with you your smile brought.

It made me glad indeed,

To think myself your friend,

I had no reason to want more,

Each kind word is a heaven-send.

But too soon the day came,

When my heart wept with loneliness and pain,

Despite how I tried I could not find solace,

So I went to walk in the night and the rain.

When I at last returned and saw you,

A spark lit up my eyes,

Suddenly a hope filled me and left me,

For a way I could not surmise.

I knew you wouldn’t want me,

And if I spoke of my heart you’d be dismayed,

So I took all of myself,

Locked me up and pushed me away.

Now I know why it is called a crush,

It is to me what you must now do,

Crush my hopes, quench that fire, destroy that love,

Because it can only hurt me and you.

Again, it was almost perfectly on pitch. The voice was there, carrying the sorrow that Riff had asked for. In the middle of the song, Riff closed his eyes and just played his part, letting himself be immersed in the flow of the sound. Had those words been sung by him, it would have been exactly as he pictured. As it was, it was...different. Not what he’d imagined, but something that still evoked the feeling as if his heart was melting within his chest. Looking to complete the feeling, Riff opened his eyes to look at Shadow--and the feeling died.

In front of him, the pegasus was singing with the passion asked of him, but with an entirely blank face. He wasn’t going to be fooling anypony. Ugh! This is so close to being what we need, but not quite it!

When the song ended, somepony sniffled. Ignoring that, Riff gave Shadow some more feedback.

“Ok, getting better, but you’ve really gotta look them part. Look...” Riff paused as he tried to think of the right words. “You’ve had mare problems at one point or another right? So just think of that. Think of how much it hurt when it didn’t work out. You feel that pain? Good. Hold onto it while we do the last one. Make it angry.”

That last song that was in the audition was ‘Inspired’, a bid to get the aspiring vocalist to show his heavier vocals. Not quite a death growl, but hard. This was where most of the singers had totally messed it up. It was more fast paced, and they band hit it with enthusiasm, being their last number of the night.

Perhaps it was the right advice, perhaps something in ‘emotion’ finally clicked with the new guy, but whatever the reason, he got it right. Shadow was staring into thin air, shouting in a rage seemingly directed to an invisible pony. Again, it wasn’t quite the right tone of voice, but it certainly wasn’t bad. Something akin to the tone of voice the guards used when they shouted at Riff when he’d been caught shoplifting in middle school.

Whisper to me oh muse, my muse of foul play,

The cheating and lying, bickering and crying,

The winner’s false joy and the loser’s dismay.

Tell me oh muse, my muse of bad work,

The shortcuts and stress, the paycuts and distress,

And of those bosses who are jerks.

The cruelty whispers to me,

The hurt cries out its plea,

Oh they inspire me.

Sing to me oh muse, my muse of lost love,

Of what could and should have been but never happened,

And when hate ensued after against it he and she both strove.

Yell to me of muse, my muse of terrible war,

The blood and the gore, the fighting in store,

The wrong cause for which more die, so many more.

The cruelty whispers to me,

The hurt cries out its plea,

Oh they inspire me,

The hatred sings to me,

The fighting tells me to flee,

Oh they love me.

It was that time of song. Playing power chords with just hooves was actually pretty damn easy if the guitar was drop-tuned: bar the bottom three strings and strum like hell. Magic to mute it. It was easy enough that the next trick up was just within his abilities. It couldn’t hurt that it was also his special talent.

Riff swiftly levitated the the second guitar out of its stand, and with pure telekinesis ran the solo along its length. It wasn’t the first time, or the fiftieth he’d played this song. Maybe the five hundredth-there was not a chance that he’d miss a note. What was different was how alive he felt while doing so. He came out of the solo and set the second guitar down breathing hard, playing with vigor through the last two verses and chorus.

Murmur to me oh muse, my muse of grim death,

The path beyond which so many needlessly fear,

The only one with lasting rest.

Scream to me oh muse, my muse of pain!

For without you I have no story to tell,

And nothing else to gain!

The cruelty whispers to me,

The hurt cries out its plea,

Oh they inspire me,

The hatred sings to me,

The fighting tells me to flee,

Oh they love me.

The death calls for me,

The pain becomes me,

Oh they are me.

YES THEY ARE ME!

The final note rang out, sustained as long as it could go before breaking pitch. When they stopped, everypony was breathing hard. Riff leaned over and hit the ‘stop’ button on the recorder. I’ll be wanting that. Now for a little tradition.

“Ok bucko. That was O-K. Whaddya all think?” asked Riff to the assembled band members. There was a twinkle in Kicks’ eyes, and the slightest nod from Sable. They got it alright.

“Hmm...I’d have to listen to the tapes...but you really don’t have a chance. We had a lot of shit ponies audition today, yourself included, and I’m gonna have to spend some quality time listening over the other records before I tell you to go buck yourself, so don’t get your hopes up.” Sable was droning in a completely disinterested tone.

“Yeah! That robot stuff you did earlier is plain creepy and I really didn’t like it!” piped Vivace.

“I don’t know what to think right now.” Kicks spoke in an unusually deep voice for a mare, which made her sound bemused almost regardless of how she talked. “But you need work.”

“Well Shadow,” chatted Riff as he put a hoof up on Shadow’s shoulder and began walking him to the door. Shadow immediately stiffened and brushed off the offending limb. “We’ll call you if we want you to come in for a second audition, but like Sable said, we can’t say just yet. Got a number we can call you by?”

“It’s in the resume.”

Oh, right.

“Oh, ok then. Well have a good night.” Riff shut the door behind the hopeful and turned around to face his crew. What was upcoming should have been worth a short discussion, but knowing this motley lot, it was going to take a bit. With a sigh, the guitarist dragged a stool into the middle of the room and plopped his rump down on it.

“Ok fillies and colts, I don’t know what you all think, but...”

“He’s creepy as Tartarus!” interrupted Vivace. “Did you see how he sang the first song? It was almost like he was a zombie!”

“Zombies don’t exist Vivace...” objected Sable.

“Yes they do! Whydontyoubelieveme?!”

“No, that’s just-”

“Not listening you’re wrong!”

“ENOUGH!” shouted Riff. They’d gone on a tangent as fast as was equinely possibly. “Look, Vivace, I know that stoicism and singing don’t go together well, but it looked like he could snap out of it with the right motivation. He’s got a degree in music, and he was the best of the trash we got tonight. Does anypony agree with me?”

“I do. He did good enough. With some practice he’d be fine.” Kicks declined to comment any further before lapsing back into her daydreaming.

Sable gave his two bits worth a little more warmly.

“I agree with Kicks. I liked what he did. Wasn’t quite what we were looking for, not hardcore enough, but what the heck. We can work with it, if we can get that darn pegasus to loosen up. Somepony needs to buy him an ale.”

“Well then...I think we should give him a shot. If we can get him to do what he did for ‘Inspired’ this could just work out. And honest to goodness, I’m real tired of cooking hayfries for a living. This might be our break.” Riff crossed his forelegs and gave Vivace a hard glare. “So guys, unless we have any more objections other than ‘creepy’ because you’re weird too Viv’...I’m gonna call him and tell him he’s got the spot.”

Vivace stuck out her tongue and then retreated to pack up her keyboards. Kicks and Sable also began to put away the gear they’d lugged in. Riff for his part sauntered over to his saddlebags which he’d left under the table, and pulled out his phone. The screen was cracked from two years back, and it had a barely functioning battery. He booted it up, and started feeding his own magic into the aging device to keep it on long enough to punch in the number and call. It rang twice before Shadow picked up.

“Hello.”

“Oh hey, Shadow, it’s Riff.”

“What can I do for you?”

“Well...how about you drop by tomorrow at five-thirty. We’ll discuss more then, but so you don’t go wasting your time looking, we’d like to have you in our band. Whaddya say?”

“I accept. Where is your apartment?”

“2132 Old Sunburst Way-and that’s Kicks’ place, we normally meet there. Keep working on that ‘emotion’ thing I told you earlier, and we’ll see you then ok?”

“Ok.”

“I’m gonna send you the rough takes of what you’ll need to know. Do you have an email?”

“It’s on the resume.”

Ah shit...

The line went dead. Riff would have been peeved at how short the conversation was if he didn’t have to maintain the call out of his already exhausted magic reserves. Catching the phone in his mouth, he put it back in the saddlebags, then stooped low before levitating them onto his back. The other three were waiting for him, gazes ranging from expectant (Sable), to concerned (Vivace), to utterly indifferent (Kicks).

“Well, he accepted our offer.”

“Alright!”

“Hmph.”

“Ok, same time and place then?”

“Yeah you got it. Get ready to practice hard. I’m gonna see if I can’t score us a gig for a few weeks out. See you all later.”

Riff started to put away the guitars as everypony else headed out the door, Sable with most of the amps in magical tow.

“Night.”

“Take care!”

“Bye.”

The annoying thing about rain was that it soaked through his coat. It dripped through his mane, attracting more-than-friendly stares from the mares as he passed down the sidewalk. Under the weight of the water, his tail drooped into the muck that ran with the rivulets in the streets, dirtying the blonde. Magic kept the guitars on his back dry inside their cases as he trotted along, but it would be too much effort to dry himself as well. Worst of all though, the rain hadn’t stopped for the last two days.

Riff walked faster, as if he could somehow be anything less than completely soaked when he arrived at Kicks’ apartment. Hurriedly he trotted up the steps and thumped a hoof on the door, complementing the rhythmic drumming noises from within. Before anypony could answer he shook himself hard, spraying water all over and drastically messing up his tail and mane.

“Come on in Riff, we know it’s you. You know you don’t need to knock!” Vivace’s voice rang out clearly through the thin walls. It was a great indication of how much the neighbors were pissed most evenings when they got done. Not that it was his problem, they always finished before noise violation laws kicked in, and the guards wouldn’t bother responding to such a petty offense in such a trashy part of the city. Riff let himself in, and wiped his hooves on the doormat.

On the inside was the living room of Kicks’ place. Her apartment had three rooms: a bedroom, a bathroom, and an ‘everything else’ room. That meant what little kitchen she had was in one corner, and musical equipment covered most of the rest. The drum set, several amplifiers, and a mess of wires hooked into power strips covered the threadbare carpet.

Double Kick was sitting on a stool behind the drumset, tapping her sticks lightly against the drums, her legs, the walls, and anything else in reach. Sable and Vivace were sitting on the sofa in the other corner. Both were still in their matching ‘Hay-Mart’ grocery store work clothes, remarkably dry. Before Riff could ask how they managed to escape the rain, Vivace blasted him with a heat-spell, and the water rose as steam off of Riff, further matting up his coat and messing up his mane. She laughed, and he came up with all the snark he could to answer her welcome.

“Yeah, but it’s a courtesy to knock. And for all I know you and Sable are making out on the other side. I came here to blow out my eardrums, not my eye sockets.”

Sable facehoofed, but Vivace didn’t miss a beat.

“You heard the drums, so you know Kicks is home.”

“So the three of you were making out.” Riff unslung the cases and got out his guitars.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure you’d actually like to see that...” muttered Sable.

“Aww you know I’m just teasing, now lets get to this. Where’s Shadow?”

“Dunno,” answered Sable, brightening at the change of topic. “I called him but just got voicemail. Said something like ‘I am still at work, so leave a message and I’ll call you as soon as I’m free’.”

“Huh...” Riff started to tune up the guitars. “Well he’s late. I suppose we can get started without him, but if he doesn’t show I’m gonna be at a loss for what to do. Just so damn frustrated with ponies who can’t be bucked to show up on time.” Three knocks sounded loudly at the door. “Well speak of the changeling...”

Riff trotted over to the door and opened it to find a relatively dry Shadow on the other end, covered in the same hat as the night before, but minus the raincoat. After ushering him inside, Riff couldn't help his curiosity.

“Dude, how the hay are you not soaking? Do you work just down the street or something?”

“No.”

“Well where did you come from? You’re late, and Sable here says it was because of work.”

“I work at the castle. Had to stay a little late today. Sorry about that, but I got here as quick as I could.”

At the castle? Well aint that posh.

“And what the hay do you do there? It’s on the other side of the city, so how did you not get soaked?”

“I’m a butler. And I flew over the clouds until I got here. So what’s the plan for tonight?”

Riff puffed up at this, he’d been waiting to make this announcement all day.

“Listen up fillies and colts. This Friday night I’ve got us a gig at the The Weathered Saddle. We’re going to play pretty much everything that we’ve decided to put on the first album, so we’re gonna run each of those tonight once or twice to see what we really need to work on, and then hit that up.”

A mix surprise and concern greeted his words.

“Alright! It’s about time we did something real!” cheered Sable.

“FRIDAY NIGHT!? But tonight’s Tuesday! That only gives us three nights to practice.” Vivace was verging on one of her freak-out episodes.

“So...that means you should calm down, and we should practice.” Double Kick motioned for Vivace to get herself behind the keyboards. Catching the hint, everypony took their places.

“Ok, so we’re just gonna take it from the top.” Riff levitated a setlist and a printout of the lyrics over to Shadow. “You got some idea of what they should be like?”

“Yep. Listened to the stuff you sent a lot.”

“Alright then. Lets go!”

The next forty-five minutes and change were a maelstrom of pure music and magic energy. The songs told of Riff’s hurts and failures in life, hopes and dreams, and a few of the songs did the same for Sable and Vivace. It was sad and angry, but energetic, and by the time they finished, everypony was covered in a sheen of sweat. As the final note faded away, Riff allowed himself to smile, just a little bit, until Vivace broke the fading harmony.

“I just can’t take it anymore! I don’t want to be in the same room as that freak!” She stuck a foreleg out at Shadow, then stormed down the hall to the back.

“Ugh...she probably just needs some fresh air, I’ll go see if she’s ok.” Sable got up and followed her.

“Hmm...well I don’t know what’s got her bothered, but we sure have a lot to talk about Shadow. If you can’t get yourself out of this ice sculpture indifference here, I may just ask her to insult you more in hopes that you can give out just a little anger.”

“Can I just pretend that I’m angry?”

Riff paused for a moment, letting such a ridiculous question sink in. No way! Well...if he really believes it...it could be like role playing it...it just might work...

“That depends, do you think you can...’pretend’ to be emotional for an entire hour, on stage? And do it so well that you talk like it, you sing like it, you look like it, you act like it? I want to see hurt on your face, I want to see rage when you stomp your hooves, and you’d better sing like you’re really feeling it. Can you do that?”

“I think so. I’d rather wait to try it until we run the material again though. Was there anything else?”

“Well just a few spots that you didn’t have the right attack on the notes, and twice you missed those entrances, but you remember those right? Really all that needs to be fixed is...well sing it like you mean it damnit!”

“Very well. Can we try this again?”

“Sure...let me go get Viv’. You two just...talk amongst yourselves. This may take a minute or two.”

Leaving Kicks and Shadow alone together was probably about as dangerous as leaving two blocks of wood together. If they’d even say a word to each other was up to question. Sable was probably the most normal of the group, driven by a fiery desire to ascend to the same prominence that his older sister held. And I just want to make my music heard. Oh, and to make enough bits to live in a decent home with decent food. We can all dream right?

In Kicks’ bedroom was a door that led to a very tiny and equally unkempt back porch-yard. The few square-lengths of ground were now turned to mud and choked with weeds. Vivace and Sable were sitting on the concrete step, and while their backs were turned to Riff, he knew exactly what the smoke rising from Vivace’s muzzle meant.

“No, I will not hold you. I hate the smell of that stuff. You told me you were going to quit. We both know you can’t afford this habit.”

“Yes...but it helps me chill out and slow down.” Vivace wasn’t kidding. Every time she smoked ‘horse’ she would calm down a lot. But it made her unstable and irritable when she didn’t have it. “I’m trying to get rid of it, but...”

“Yeah, well, keep trying then. You know I’ll try to help you, I’ll be there for you Viv’.”

“Thanks Sable.” Vivace put out the piece of notebook paper wrapped around that noxious powder and chucked it in a nearby trashcan. “Now will you hold me?”

“Oh alright, come here you.”

Sable pulled Vivace into a tight embrace, and Riff let them enjoy each other for a second or two before interrupting.

“You all cooled off now? Heh, look at you jump.”

“Riff! Can’t you let us be for a bit?” complained Sable.

“No, because I don’t want to see you two start eating each other’s faces...or worse. Oh and, we’re going to run the setlist again, so I kind of need you both. You all good to go?”

“Yeah I suppose, you manage to talk sense into Shadow?”

“I think so...he said something about pretending to be angry. Lets just hope it works.”

Sable shrugged, and then lifted Vivace to her hooves.

“Could work I suppose.”

“If it doesn’t, I’m punching him.” Vivace grinned at the thought. “Maybe then he’ll do something.”

They shared a chuckle and headed back to the living room. There they found Kicks staring into space, and Shadow reading over the lyrics, mouthing them quietly as he read through.

“... my hopes and dreams, and came to be today--” he stopped quickly as he saw them walk in, and quietly resumed his place behind the microphone.

“Ok Shadow, you all ready to so us some rage?”

“Yes.”

Not good.

They ran the set again, but it was as if they had brought an entirely different pony into the room to sing. This time, instead of holding still, he was in motion. That became swaying in front of the microphone, shaking his forelegs, and splaying out his plumage when he was particularly angry. But most important was his face. Riff could see in Shadow’s eyes that he believed what he was singing. When the set finally came to an end, all five of them were tired and sweaty, but Shadow was positively soaked. Soaked, and now sporting his typical utterly unconcerned expression.

“Now THAT is what I had in mind. And you were just acting as if you were angry the whole time?”

“Yes.”

“Well...I guess it works. Alright everypony, lets call it quits for tonight, meet back here at the same time tomorrow.” Before Shadow could turn to leave, Riff tapped him and quietly told him: “Follow me, we need to talk.”

Shadow nodded, and after they all finished packing up, followed Riff on outside. It had stopped raining, but none of the stars were visible through the blanket of clouds.

“Ok, lets get this straight, right here and right now. I don’t know what notions you had coming in as a singer, but you’re still not part of the band yet. We’ve got a while yet of seeing how you do. And second, this is my band, and it won’t ever be anypony elses. Even if we decide to bring you on board, that’s not gonna change. Is that clear?”

“Crystal.” Shadow deadpanned, rolling his eyes ever so slightly.

Well...so long as he gets it, I suppose I can let this go.

“Good.”

Riff levitated the last cable into its jack with a firm *snick*, and breathed a tense sigh of relief. Everything was in place and ready, but a cold nervousness was settling on him, tingles running down his neck and into his legs. Those jitters would go away once he could finally put his hooves on the strings and make a lot of noise, but until that started he’d just have to wait it out. It wasn’t like a normal performance. The Weathered Saddle was a large club and bar in one of the nicer districts of Canterlot, well-to-do enough to host their own musicians. Riff’s band was getting paid five hundred bits for the night, plus whatever the patrons tipped.

The part that was making him nervous was not the number of ponies they’d be playing in front of, but rather who else might be watching. If they did really well, the owner might invite them back, and that would keep their pockets lined nicely. More importantly, it was the kind of place frequented by record company workers.

With that firmly in mind, he turned back around to take one last look over everything to make sure it was in order. Drums in the back, keyboards a little forward and to one side, an open spot for Sable to stand to the other side, and two microphones front and center. Perfect. In spite of, or perhaps because of the mess of cables, it looked entirely legitimate.

At a wave from Riff, everypony took their places. With a start he realized Shadow was still wearing those darned hoof-caps and that ugly sports watch, even though he told them to choose between dressing classy, or not wearing anything. Before he could tell him to take them off, the curtain began to open. Yes, it was a nice enough place to have a curtain. Damn. Too late now.

With the curtain back, Riff could see the large open area of the club, filled with tables, potted plants, fish tanks, and just about anything else the owner thought would have a good effect. A lot of ponies filled that room. There had to be at least several hundred sitting at the tables and mingling.

“Fillies and gentlecolts,” a voice filled the room. “Please welcome to the stage tonight’s entertainment; ‘In Good Time!’”

A polite smattering of hoof stomps against the floor greeted Riff and his band, but it was very well muted by the carpet. Well, this is what I came for, so lets get on it with. He leaned forward over the microphone.

“Hello everypony, hope you’re all having a wonderful start to your weekend. If not, we’re here to help! Our first song is a number we call ‘Can’t Regret.’”

Kicks kicked off the song, and they launched right on into it. It was mere seconds before the nervousness faded away, replaced by the mild burn of standing on his hindlegs to play the backing guitar part. Shifting over power chords was an easy enough effort, giving him room to listen to the rest of the band. All was as it should have been, and Shadow was doing just fine.

As the song went on, Riff almost let himself get lulled into the music, but caught himself just before the solo part. With a quick burst of magic he popped the second guitar in the air, and ran a quick series of notes down the upper end of the fretboard. For Riff, nothing else mattered until the solo stopped, and he could set down the second guitar.

Panting hard after letting the concentration go, Riff gradually became aware of the world around him as they proceeded into the last chorus. Perhaps it was just stage goggles acting on him, but it seemed the crowd really was enjoying their show. As the song drew to the final note, noise overtook the sounds of the instruments, noise of a chorus of hoof stomps and cheers. Riff brought himself back over to the microphone to announce the next song.

“Alright! Lets keep this going! This next one is called ‘The End.’”

The evening was up all too quickly. Each song had produced more and more enthusiasm from the collection of ponies in the room, which had grown far more numerous as the night wore on. Either this club just got much busier it got later, or a lot of the ponies already there had called their friends.

“Alright you guys, just one more for you tonight. This one is called ‘Always Darkest Before.’” Without further words he hit the guitar line, and let the rest of his band follow. Sweat ran down his brow, and he shaking from the intensity, enjoying every second of it. From the way the keyboard, bass and drums washed over him, everypony else was enjoying themselves just as much. It was impossible to guess if Shadow was or not, but he sure sounded like it.

They say that a dying mare will see her life flash before her eyes,

That isn’t true you know-you only see what really mattered

It was you who quenched the fire in my eyes,

Only you could teach me how those bright lights die,

I couldn’t fight on through that deceit and those lies,

Now the spirit from my body springs and to the heavens flies,

So just hold on, no! My lungs won’t take another breath,

Get back up, yes! My face down in the dirt,
Fight on through, no! My eyes shut for one last time,

So get back up, yes! But my limbs betray my will.

A fate I always thought, would come another day,

Ignored my hopes and dreams, and came to be today,

One colt’s life, thus numbered in the slate,

The final gift in a short life, to know one’s own fate,

So just hold on, no! My lungs won’t take another breath,

Get back up, yes! My face down in the dirt,
Fight on through, no! My eyes shut for one last time,

So get back up, yes! But my limbs betray my will.

Now came his time to shine. Everything else went away as he poured the last verges of his magic into plucking the right notes on his second guitar. Beginners would practice until they could get it right, but Riff would go over his parts until he couldn’t get them wrong. For him it was a matter of whether or not he had enough energy left to finish it. Come...on....

As he hit the last note, the magic fizzled, and the guitar dropped to the stage, adding a loud thump to the drumbeat as the bridge started. Oh thank goodness it’s just chords from here on out.

Oh angels sweet, carry me away,

To my home, forever to stay...

So just hold on, don’t ever let me go,

Fight on through, and get back up!

But let go, you let me go,

JUST LET GO!

The roar from the audience was overwhelming. It was all Riff could do to give a farewell. He just wanted to bask in the applause.

“Sounds like you all enjoyed tonight every bit as much as we did! Thanks for having us. Remember, we’re ‘In Good Time’, and our first album should be out within the next month. Thanks again, and have a wonderful night!”

He turned away from the microphone as the curtain closed, and saw Sable and Vivace high-hoofing one another. As much as he wanted to join in on that, instead he leaned over to pick up the strap of his fallen guitar in his teeth, and follow them backstage.

Cracked Mug was waiting for them. He was the owner of the club, and certainly not sompony Riff was expecting to see.

“Well done fillies and colts, well done indeed. Would you come with me please? Don’t worry about your instruments, you can come back for them after.”

“Arrght therm.” Riff sat the guitar down and spat out the strap. “Where we going?”

“Oh just to a private space for you and your band to have dinner. That’s on the house tonight. You brought in so many ponies that it’s the least I can do. You’ll be happy to know that you practically doubled your pay from what they put in the donation jar. Oh and, I’d like to have you guys back sometime. Not right away of course, gotta keep things fresh, but mabye in a month or two.”

Well it’s about damn time somepony recognized us. After six months of absolutely nothing we finally have a good show.

That was all the incentive they needed to follow Cracked through a few back halls, and into a room set with six places, mugs and plates sumptuously filled. Well, save for one, which was all finished. A black earth pony stallion with a plain white mane sat in that chair, toying with his empty cider mug. Beside him was a very official looking briefcase.

It can’t be. Nonononoyesyesyesyes! Oh please don’t hope, in case it actually isn’t.

“And one other thing, my friend Ever Dark here wanted to meet you guys, and I figured I’d introduce you. Well, you all go ahead and chow down, and I’ll make sure the jar of bits is left with your stuff.” Cracked made room for them all to enter, then exited and shut the door behind as he left.

“So you’re Riff Runner? Have a seat.” Ever patted the chair right next to him. “And the rest of you too, go on. Dinner isn’t going to eat itself.”

No further prompting was needed, and the band seated themselves and started chowing down. Riff settled for a drink from his mug, which thankfully was the earth pony kind; with a large enough handle to fit a foreleg through.

“Yeah, I’m Riff, what can I do for you?”

“Well, you did some awfully nice playing tonight. Looked like you fellows were really into it. Not the happiest music, but if it can get ponies to call their friends to come see...it’s something special. You made Cracked there a lot of bits tonight. A lot. And I’m hopeful that you might be able to do the same for Aurora Lights Records.”

Holy shit it is. Try not to grin. Oh hay, lets just settle for not breaking down right now.

Ever opened the briefcase and passed a small mass of papers over to Riff, along with a pen.

“Ok I know you probably hate reading small print, so let me sum it up for you. Three records. One every two years, date fixed after you deliver the first one. You’ll make ten pieces on the bit for all sales, and we’ll cover all advertising, and make sure to set you up with concerts and such. Oh and, we’d be setting you up with recording equipment too.”

“Wait, only ten on the bit? That’s harsh.”

“That’s more than most bands on their third album make. I’m cutting you a fantastic deal here. So what do you say?”

It took only one quick look around the table to collect three nods and one blank stare. Shadow was very still, and paling slightly. That aside, Riff had all the confirmation he needed, and took the pen in his teeth to sign the contract.

“Excellent.” Ever took the paper and put it in his case. “I’ll be calling you tomorrow to start talking logistics, but for now I think you all deserve to enjoy your night. Take care.” Taking his briefcase in his teeth, the talent scout left the room, leaving the band to discuss this development, which they did immediately.

It was all Riff could do to get them to settle down enough to talk one at a time, even Kicks was in on the discussion. Shadow was still shoveling food down his throat, but that was all he had been doing since they entered the room. In the end, he just let them go at it, as he was every bit as happy as they were. It was the day their lives were all moving in a direction they had hoped for. The conversation ebbed from expectations for the future to going over that night’s performance, to the constant stream of new ideas for songs. The only one who didn’t weigh in on the discussion was Shadow.

Riff noticed this, and when they all said their farewells and headed out for the night, he stopped Shadow. It was probably due to the alcohol, the the late hour, and the sheer happiness Riff was feeling, but he had decided to hold out the hoof of friendship.

“Look Shadow, I’m sorry if what I said a couple of nights back came off as rough, but I just needed to make everything clear. No hard feelings, ok?”

“None at all.”

“I did have a question though. You didn’t seem nearly as cheerful about getting a record label as everypony else. I know you’re the kind that doesn’t show that easy, but is something eating you? What could possibly be wrong with this? It’s our chance to go big.”

“...Nothing.”

“You’re sure bro?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, if you’re sure, you’re sure. And for what it’s worth, we’re sure as Tartarus keeping you now. You’re one of us.”

“Well thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Riff hoofed Shadow on the upper foreleg, and hoofed over Shadow’s hat. The pegasus donned it, and the spread his wings wide. Riff barely had time to step back before Shadow barreled past at high speed, muttering something that sounded something like ‘shit’ but was lost in the noise of his wings.

Author's Note

Set one month after the end of chapter five.

Total change of pace here. For those of you who miss Spitfire, don't worry, she'll be back soon. For those of you who miss gunfire and violence, don't you worry. We'll get there soon enough.

Thank you Dizziestbeef for providing a healthy dose of reality check (I need to go there more often), and shameless editing.

I took a shameless moment to insert my OC and my girlfriend's (marefriend's?) OC at the start. That's us doing the barely bar-worthy rendition of what is a good country song, but was an amazing chance for me to listen to her sing for a while ;)

This one took longer than usual because I've got something very special for you all in chapter seven that I've been pouring a lot of heart and soul into (and many hours). See you all then.