Being a Wonderbolt is an honor. Make no mistake, you are joining a long legacy of truly great and amazing fliers. Defend that honor. You are its face. Should you shine, the Wonderbolts will continue to shine. Should you fall, so our reputation will too. Remember that you carry all of us with you. Remember that with pride. But never, ever let that pride rule you. You are still a pony, just like any of us.

-Spitfire

click. THWACK!

The door banged against the wall, and in strutted Spitfire, followed by most of her team in a motley mess. Half were still in their sweat soaked race uniforms, and most of them were sporting saddlebags filled to the brim with the means of decadence. It was going to be a night to remember, and it should be. They’d earned it.

Six weeks of tours. Six weeks! Races in Fillydelphia, Stalliongrad, Denspur, and almost every major metro point in Equestria. All victories. It was a hard time, but that’s what race season was. When the ponies of Equestria didn’t have a Gala, a Summer Sun Celebration, and all manner of other holidays to distract themselves with, the races provided entertainment, or at least most of it.

The rest came from the shows, and that’s where the international travel came in. Multi-national fame for the Wonderbolts came from traveling to Gryphemi, the dragon kingdom of Abalask, Saddle Arabia, the Zebra lands, and anywhere else they could rake in gold, in one form or another. It meant constant travel between countries, and constant exhaustion; the life they’d all pined for at some point or another.

The final obstacle before they could all rest was one final race, perhaps the king of all races, which of course was held in Canterlot. Half a million bits were at stake for the first place, and another half-million for the team placement. Go figure we take both. Spitfire had won. It was really that simple. Though Rainbow Dash was a close second. I’d better try a little harder, or that mare will be replacing me as captain soon.

All of that was inconsequential, the only reminder were her horrifically sore wings and back. They’d won, and it was time to relax. The ‘bolts made their way inside, and emptied the saddlebags on the kitchen counter and the coffee table in front of the TV. Popcorn, pizza rolls, caramel ‘n daisy bars, and all the junk food that could be fit into such a space spilled forth, but that was not what they really cared about. The prize of the night was the half-dozen bottles of Applejack Daniels--a certain apple brandy that was guaranteed to make the night fun along with a few dozen cans of assorted ciders and ales. It was going to be a hangover to remember.

Somepony turned the speakers on loud, food was passed around, bottles tossed from hoof to hoof, and the celebration began.

Spitfire could see the personalities underneath all the hard-working pegasi that flew for her most of the time, but they all really came out now. Skyline Spirit, Sidewinder, and Aces High all retreated into the the corner around a coffee table, soon followed by Rapidfire who had one bottle of applejack clutched in his teeth, and another balanced on a hoof. They were probably going to be plastered within the hour.

Twitch had grabbed a spot at the dining table as quickly as she could, and now she was taking up nearly a quarter of it with her laptop and a large mousepad. Deaf to the world through her headset, she was screaming obscenities to whatever unfortunate soul happened to be on her team. Anypony who offered her any form of alcohol while she was ‘in the zone’ was shooed off, on the account of it ‘making her worse at the game’.

Most of the rest of the team was scattered around the living room, splayed out on the furniture and the floor. Rainbow Dash and Soarin’ had taken one loveseat and were holding hooves. Whoa, must have missed that. I always knew Soarin’ was, but I never pegged Dash for the romantic type.

Those not otherwise engaged were holding an eager discussion about the last race, their Canterlot finale.

“I can’t believe Dash almost beat Spitfire! That was incredible!”

“Yeah, well you didn’t do too badly yourself Fleetfoot, I saw how you passed both that dragon and the griffon on the last straightaway. Made me go faster too.”

“Awww, thanks Buzz, that’s real sweet of you. I’m just a little bummed that we are going back to training soon enough. It won’t be quite the same.

“Yeah...it’s been different ever since the coach quit. But hey, tomorrow we’re leaving for that resort over in Gryphemi. Can’t say no to a weeklong vacation.”

Spitfire felt a lump in her throat. She hadn’t told them, and didn’t plan on it. In hopes of shifting the topic a bit, she drew attention to the white-coated gold-maned pegasus in the middle of the floor.

“What’s that plan for tonight Eagle Claw? You were saying you had something awesome for us to do when we got back?”

“Well,” responded Eagle as he used a pinion feather to turn the page on the channel guide. “Apparently a local band is doing a concert tonight, and it’s being broadcasted on one of these darned channels, if I can find it. I’ve heard them on the radio a few times, and they’re pretty good. Figure it would be fun to watch, and good background noise for everypony else.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

At that moment, the doorbell rang, and with the security instructed to only let approved ponies in, that could only mean one thing.

“Food!” The collective cry went up from the assembled ponies.

“Hey Fleetfoot,” called Spitfire. “Can you come gimme a hoof with this?”

The two ‘bolts made their way to the front door, and waiting on the other side was a pizza delivery pegasus, and a very full chariot behind him.

“Sp-Sp-Spitfire?! Uhm...hi! Your total is two hundred and thirty-two bits...and...can I have your autograph!?”

With a chuckle, Spitfire took out her bit purse and hoofed over eleven gold crowns, and twelve bits. A lot of money for sure, but she needed a lot of food for her hungry team, and it was but a drop in the bucket compared to what they’d made today. Once the delivery pony had his money, Spitfire took the offered pen and signed his book. It always gave her a bit of kick to see just how happy she could make somepony she’d never met before just by putting down her name.

With a wide smile, the delivery pony took the first stack of boxes off the chariot and set them on Fleetfoot’s back, causing her to sag a bit under the weight. Spitfire laughed until a similar weight landed on her, and the laughing was replaced with an *oof*.

They went back inside, and Spitfire was getting tired of holding up pizza on her sore back. She knew a way to fix that.

“COME AND GET IT!” she yelled. At her call, even those drinking themselves into a stupor came and relieved her of the boxes. Being the fastest and most agile ponies in the kingdom of Equestria wasn’t limited to the racetrack. It was mere seconds before both Spitfire and Fleetfoot only had one left between the two of them.

They settled down and began stuffing their faces just in time for Eagle Claw to find what he was looking for.

“Aha! Got it!” A few button pushes later, and the tail end of a government run anti-drug ad hit their senses.

“...and remember fillies and colts, don’t use horse. It really can ruin your life.” The commercial break ended, and they were all looking at a camera view of a multi-colored throng of ponies chattering amongst themselves as they waited before a darkened stage, in a venue Spitfire had seen before. It was one of the larger multipurpose theater/concert hall/event centers in the city. Into the view of the camera strode a well dressed earth pony with a small microphone hooked to his lapel.

“Welcome back, and good evening. This is Twenty-One-Sun news, and I’m your host, On Record. We’re bringing you continued coverage of the Aurora Lights ‘Up And Coming’ show, and I’d like to recap on the last group we just had on stage. Raging Equanimity was fascinating, though I doubt they’ll ever get the crowd to chant their name, too much of a mouthful. One thing's for sure though, they sure played some wicked guitar. We’ll have their band member interviews available for download tomorrow. Up next is ‘In Good Time’--”

“Woooooooooooooo!” cheered Eagle Claw.

“...and oddly enough they don’t claim any particular style, though I’m sure we’ll see one emerge eventually. Here with us for just a few minutes until they start is their guitarist and spokespony; Riff Runner. Say ‘hi’ to Canterlot, Riff.”

The camera panned and turned to show a midnight gray-blue unicorn stallion in a black jacket and sunglasses. His blonde mane and tail were long enough to be a total musicians cliche. He leaned over to speak cheerfully into the microphone that On Record was offering.

“Well hello!”

“Got anything you’d like to say?”

“Uhm, just that I’m excited beyond any reason to be here! This kind of thing is what I always dreamed I’d be doing!”

“Such is the energy of young stallions, and we hope to see that enthusiasm up on the stage in a few moments. Speaking of which, can you tell us anything of the upcoming show?”

“Sure. We’re playing some fan-favorites from our first full length, and two from the upcoming one.”

“Didn’t you just release an album three months back?”

“Yes, but I like staying productive. I hate to cut this short, but I’ve got to go.” Riff pointed off toward the stage, and Record nodded.

“Very well, we’ll be looking forward to it.”

While she waited for the actual show to start, Spitfire made sure she had ample supplies to avoid getting up in the middle. That meant a plate piled high with pizza, two bottles of cider, and one glass of apple brandy on the rocks. Fully armed, she plopped back down next to Fleetfoot, and started feeding her face.

A cheer went up from the crowd as several indiscernible pony-shapes moved out onto the darkened stage, two carrying guitars of sorts, one behind the drums, one behind the stacked keyboards, and one carrying nothing at all. The camerapony zoomed in such that the figures would be clearly visible once the now-warming-up lights came all the way on. The announcer boomed out over the cheering.

“Fillies and Gentlecolts; In Good Time!”

The lights came the rest of the way on, and Spitfire did a spit-take on her apple brandy. The burning in her lungs took her full attention until she managed to cough the offending liquid back out. The BUCK is he doing there? Why the Tartarus can’t you stay the buck out of my life!? About half of the ‘bolts were staring at her in concern, and those who weren’t were equally shocked.

“Wait, that’s Shadow! I...I had no idea...” stammered Eagle Claw.

On stage, Riff Runner had taken to the microphone to talk for a moment.

“Hey everypony! Just wanted to thank you all for coming out tonight to see us! This concert is a little special for us, and we wanted to wish our singer Shadow Wing, here a happy twenty-seventh birthday! And just because you know as well as we do it will make him squirm, and I know you all will enjoy it every bit as much as we will, can we all sing him happy birthday?”

A number of cheers went up, and as Riff led them, many hundreds of ponies began to sing the old foal-hood traditional song. Through it all, Shadow stood in front of the microphone, resolute, and staring into space. When it finally ended, he leaned over and spoke very plainly.

“Thank you.”

Most everypony in the crowd broke out laughing, as did some of the ‘bolts.

“Thanks folks, I’m sure we’ll make him smile one of these days! With that out of the way, on with the show!”

In order to sit still and keep calm, Spitfire poured the rest of her drink down her gullet as the band kicked up their first song. This time, it went down right, and the warmth that came with it helped ease some of the anxiety away. Still, it was only a matter of time before somepony asked her some sort of embarrassing question. To keep up the impression that she didn’t want to be bothered, she focused intently on the food and drink in front of her. That led to her very quickly getting up, and getting seconds.

Walking over to the table was slightly more difficult than usual with the alcohol worming its way into her system. More difficult still was reaching for more cider around Twitch who was still dead-to-the-world. Somewhere in between finding more bottles, and digging through the pizza boxes, Spitfire took a moment to look over her team.

Skyline Spirit, Sidewinder, Aces High, and Rapidfire were all drunk without any question, chatting with each other around the table in the corner. Eagle Claw was sitting very close to the television, staring intently and bobbing his head with the song that was playing. Most of the rest of the ‘bolts were similarly entranced. Most. For the life of me I can’t figure out why...sounds like a pretty generic angsty rock band. Oh look at you two. Rainbow Dash and Soarin’ were taking advantage of the distraction to quietly make out. Spitfire was content to watch them detachedly until a scream caused her to jump in fright.

“WELL IF YOU DON’T LIKE IT STAY THE BUCK OUT OF MY LANE YOU JERK!”

And Twitch will be Twitch...

Not wanting to stand at the table, Spitfire made her back to the sofa, nearly tripping over her own hooves. When she got back and sank into the seat, Tameless looked over at her.

“Hey Spits’...you ok there?”

“Oh yeah...haven't drunk too much yet.”

“You know that’s not what I’m asking.”

Spitfire rolled her eyes.

“Yeah yeah, I’m fine.”

“Well, if you say so.”

Spitfire grunted and proceeded to put another bottle in her muzzle. The conversation stayed dead for a few more minutes until the song ended, and the typical cheering ensued. Once it quieted down, Riff took to the microphone again.

“Ok, our second to last number for the night is a little special. Everything you’ve heard from us so far has been mostly composed by me, with a few by everypony else save for our singer. This one is called ‘Solus’, and it’s our first song by him.”

Riff pulled an acoustic guitar from a stand on the edge of the stage as the mare behind the keyboards led a simple opening melody. The guitar followed soon on until the every part joined in, with Shadow singing a solemn melody. It would have been moving, but with each line it seemed to spit in Spitfire’s face more and more. It really didn’t help that the ‘bolts kept turning one or two at a time to look at her.

Straight back, stand tall, he makes his way through the night,

Moon knows where he is going, but he has no clue,

The moon shows the world in gray black and blue,

Casts the way to a blurry uncertainty,

Yet confidence graces him profound.

He once loved you, he couldn’t say as much now,

Without ever hinting to you, it blossomed and died somehow,

He’s convinced himself that he’s just your friend,

And that’s how it’ll stay without mend,

Though he treats your more like a goddess in the end.

Alone and quiet in the dark he slips and drops to the ground,

Bloodied scraped and bruised, but not one broken bone,

Back on his hooves and dripping red, he continues on his way,

No reason or desire to show his pain and no want for sympathy.

Clouds cover the moon, and rain of hurt descends,

Blown into his face, by the chilling wind,

Lightning flickers in his eyes,

Just that quick the passion dies,

Promises of love, were nothing more than lies.

Alone and quiet in the dark he slips and drops to the ground,

Bloodied scraped and bruised, but not one broken bone,

Back on his hooves and dripping red, he continues on his way,

No reason or desire to show his pain and no want for sympathy.

Down that very same road, you once together did walk,

He smiled at your words, unsuspecting as you talked,

You led him down that darkened path,

Ready to loose all your wrath,

On that stallion who gave you everything he had.

There he lay in the dark, where you tripped and watched him fall,

Cut to make him bleed, and broke his heart in two,

You left him in that pool of blood, yes you left him there to die,

And as you walked away, all he did was wonder why.

As to when the dawn might come, he has no way to know,

It’s coming in some distant hour so along his way he goes,

He hopes and prays and weeps for that light,

For the time that it will come true,

Of when he will find, the one he thought was you.

Alone and quiet in the dark but he will not fall again,

Can’t tell if he wears a grimace or a grin,

Forward he goes into the night, bleeding for you no more,

Hungering for all the pain that life still has in store.

As the last chord faded away, all was deathly still. Within herself, Spitfire burned. He just insulted me. Publicly. In front of hundreds of ponies. Painting himself oh so innocent, and me as some sort of heartless monster. Why? Just Why? I thought I’d gotten rid of him when I fired him.

“Spits’. Look at me.”

Spitfire realized she’d been staring at the bottle clenched tightly in her hooves for a while now. Haltingly, she looked up to be faced with nearly a dozen stares. When nopony else said anything, Spitfire couldn’t take the silence.

“Well?!”

“Are you ok?” asked Fleetfoot hesitantly.

“What do you think!? Would you be ok right now if you were me?”

Fleetfoot drew a slow breath.

“No, I most certainly wouldn’t.”

“I never knew you two were an item...” stammered Endless Skies. “...but that considered...I’ve never heard of anypony being so...rude.”

“We never were together, and that’s what ticks me off. How does somepony get that much from a ‘no’?” Spitfire slowly got off the couch and stood up. “I have half a mind to go and put some sense into him.” She nodded slowly to herself. “Alright, well if I saw the TV right, they’re at the Waterway Theater, which is only a few minutes’ flight from here. Who’s coming with me?”

Fleetfoot, Double Dare, Endless Skies, and Valkyrie leapt to their hooves, some more nimbly than others.

“We’re with you, Cap,” volunteered Buzz. “Doesn’t matter who he is, that jerk needs to be civil.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” Tameless moved to block Spitfire from leaving.

“Oh, and why not?”

“Because, the last time you got involved with him it went over poorly.”

“Well, talking to somepony isn’t illegal, now is it?”

“No, but you’ll be letting the booze talk for you. Hay, you are right now. Spits’...there is no way you’d be doing this sober. You shouldn’t even be going out for a walk in the state you’re in.”

“And you’re going to stop me?”

“No...but if you get in trouble, that’s your own deal.”

“Fine.”

With a firm push, Spitfire shoved Tameless out of the way, and headed out the door. As the first breath of cool evening air entered her lungs, tingles ran down her neck and legs, and vertigo clenched her tightly as the world seemed to spin. Damn, maybe Tameless was right, I’ve really had a lot to drink...nah. Lets do this. Together they spread their wings and took to the sky.

Cheers and the stomping of hooves on the floor followed as Riff strode backstage. The feeling was heady, and intoxicating. Cries of his name, the names of his friends echoed in his ears along with the applause. Forelegs waved in the air, and all the energy was focused on him. Full to the brim with that happy haze, Riff turned to give one last wave, and then blow a kiss to the crowd. This only served to make them cheer louder, stretching his smile wider as he finally exited. As much as he would have loved to stay longer, the next group was scheduled to start soon, and he had other plans for the evening.

Backstage was the prep room and a hall leading to the back of the building, where he and the rest of the band had stashed their stuff before performing. It was the storage room, housing several drum sets, piles of various electronics, most of the instruments of the other groups, and a huge mess of cables.

Sable and Vivace had already packed up their instruments, and they were waiting expectantly for Riff to do the same. Vivace was tapping a hindhoof impatiently on the floor. Double Kick and Shadow were waiting quietly by the door. He hasn’t left yet, good. As Riff levitated his guitars into their cases, he made the announcement.

“Well, Shadow, sorry I pulled that on you, but come on! It’s your birthday after all. And as such, we have a surprise for you--”

Sompony pounded a hoof on the door in quick succession, cutting Riff off mid-sentence. I thought we had security to keep the fan-fillies out of this area. Oh well, I suppose we can bring a few fans with us to dinner. I’m sure I could do with meeting one or two cute mares.

“Who is it?” called out Riff as he strode over to the door. The voice that answered was one that he’d heard from his television more than once before.

“The Wonderbolts! We’d like to talk to the band!”

Holy mother of Celestia! This is awesome! As Riff went to open the door, Shadow shoved a leg in front of his neck to stop him. Confused, Riff turned to Shadow to find him wide eyed and breathing quickly.

“I’m NOT here!” hissed Shadow quietly before silently lifting into the air and the diving out of sight behind the nearest pile of speakers and amplifiers. Whoa...I’ve never seen him act like this for real. I’m gonna have to ask him what the hay this is all about once they leave. Still, can’t let a bro down, and all the more attention for me.

The door yielded after a firm tug to reveal a yellow and orange pegasus mare, without the iconic flight suit she usually wore. She would have been a lot more charming had Riff not been able to smell the liquor coming off of her breath. Behind her were five other pegasi he recognized from various Wonderbolt posters.

“Hey!” greeted Riff.

“Hey!” replied Spitfire. “Can we come in?”

“Well, what do you want?”

“We just want to talk, is Shadow Wing here?”

“No, he left already. Dunno where he was headed.”

Spitfire’s eyes narrowed, and she pressed herself forward, filling the doorway.

“I’m calling ponyfeathers on that. You all ended your performance two minutes ago, and we’ve been out here the whole time. He hasn’t left yet. Now move aside, colt.”

Bitch.

“No. You may leave now,” answered Riff, all warmth gone from his voice. Ugh...if I ever make it real big, I’ll make a mental note to never act like such a l--the hoof collided with his muzzle, and the sudden pain caused him to lose his balance and fall to the floor. The second it took was longer than it should have been, and the ensuing shock from smacking into floor thoroughly winded the stallion. As he lay on the ground, ponies passed over his prone form, some stepping on him.

“Alright, where is he!?”

Those words rang around in Riff’s skull as he pulled his head up off the ground. Chaos greeted his gaze. Double Kick was trading blows with a white stallion almost as large as herself, while Sable was on his back, holding up his forelegs to protect his face from both his attackers. Vivace had just tackled her opponent to the ground, and was beating him mercilessly. Out of a desperate desire to save Sable, Riff shoved himself to standing.

“Oh I’d stay down if I were you, punk!”

Another mare who’d hung back outside bashed Riff across the muzzle and he fell back down, stars twinkling in his vision. Whoever it was jumped on and pinned him down, but before she could do more, she froze.

“Stop.”

It took a few moments for Riff to realize that it was Shadow who had spoken. Silence followed in the wake of his statement. The mare straddling Riff practically jumped off him and then held still. With a pained groan, he slowly got his hooves back on the ground and stood up.

In the middle of the room, Double Kick and the big pegasus were still going at it, forelegs locked together as they grappled. Wings splayed wide, Shadow walked over with deliberation and struck the Wonderbolt in the side of the head, causing him to slump and almost drag Double Kick to the ground with him as he fell unconscious.

“Still as thick as ever I see, Double Dare...” seethed Shadow as he rolled Double Dare off of Kicks, and offered her a hoof up. No sooner had she gotten up than did Spitfire march over to him and start yelling.

“What the Tartarus did you think you were doing?”

Shadow looked her straight in the eye and didn’t move an inch.

“He was needlessly fighting, as were you all, and didn’t stop when I told him to. He’ll be awake in half an hour.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about!”

“Then what are you so angry about?”

“As if you don’t know.”

“No. I do not. That’s why I asked. I want to know why you came in here acting like a bunch of thugs.”

Spitfire inhaled sharply and began to rant.

“You were just out there spitting on my name in public! After all I did for you! I hired you to coach when you were nothing but a waiter, and put up with you even though you were antisocial and hard to work with. I worked around the weird schedule you had to because of your st-s-s-k-k-k-k--your crap! And you got it all wrong! We were never together you prick. You asked in the weirdest possible way, and I told you ‘no’. What are all these horseapples about you giving me everything you had?! You never did more than be my employee. So what do you have to say for yourself?”

“Are you done?”

“Answer me motherbucker!”

“Fine. That song wasn’t about you.”

Wait...what?

“Wait, what?”

“Did you ever once hear the name ‘Spitfire’ in it? No? That’s because it wasn’t about you. Are you seriously so conceited to think that you’re the only mare I’ve ever cared about?”

Shadow inhaled loudly, pure fury on his face. When he resumed speaking, he was nearly shouting.

“And here I still thought good of you! While I admit that it was a poor way to confess my feelings, it was all I had! I didn’t expect you to return them, after all, I’m a ‘monster’, right? Well, since you asked so nicely, that song is about a mare by the name of Sherry Berry. If you want more, you can go ask her. Now, I still held you in some esteem. I took you to be honest when you said you'd consider keeping me employed. Even after you ignored my calls and then blocked my number, I still held out a little hope. Looks like I was wrong.”

Whoa boy...just whoa.

The center of all attention, Spitfire was shaking, tears beginning to run from the corners of her eyes.

“I...I’m sorr--”

Shadow put a hoof to her lips to silence her.

“Monsters don’t deserve apologies. Now get out!”

Drawing in a shuddering breath, Spitfire held still for a moment before reaching over to grab Double Dare and heft him up with the help of two more of her team. They hightailed it out the door, this time giving Riff a good berth. The moment the sound of their hoof-falls had faded into the distance, Shadow let out a long sigh and sat down on the floor.

Ok, how the hell do I deal with this? Somepony has gotta tell him it’s gonna be ok when he thinks it really aint.

“Was that the surprise you had for me, Riff?”

So much for going gently about this.

“Oh hay no!” stammered Riff. “Look, Sable’s sister got us all reservations at Olive Grove for dinner, and we figured it would be nice to eat as a group. You know? Celebrate?”

“Yeah,” volunteered Sable, who was now sporting a collection of nicks and bruises along his face and forelegs. “Vinyl wanted to congratulate us on our success, and after a night like this, I’m sure we could all use a drink.”

“Ok.”

“What the buck was that all about?”

“Why the hay did they beat us up?”

“You never told us you knew the Wonderbolts!”

“You were seriously dating Spitfire?”

“Can you teach me to fight like that?”

“You know, you should write a song about her now!”

“Since when were you their coach!?”

The band walked down the cobblestones of the well-lit Canterlot street. Riff had tried at first to keep Sable and Vivace from overwhelming Shadow with questions, but soon gave up. The stallion clearly wanted to be left alone, but it wasn’t every day you got punched in the face by Spitfire.

“You saw. I don’t know. That’s correct. No. No. No, and you never did read the resume I gave you, did you?”

This nearly one-sided dialogue continued as they walked through the fading evening light. The ten minutes it took to arrive had only served to fray what patience both sides had. It was just as well that Riff spied the grove of olive trees just then. The namesake of the restaurant helped lend a pleasant atmosphere to its very plain exterior.

“Oh thank goodness!” blurted Riff, loud enough to cut of the rest of the conversation. “I’m starving. Come on and hurry up!” At his urging, everypony galloped up to the doors. At the noise, the receptionist looked up, eyes wide.

“Party of six, reserved under ‘Scratch’,” offered Riff apologetically.

“Uhm yes...right this way.”

Though busy, a large table was open in the back. Open, save for a unicorn anypony would know anywhere. She waved a cheery hoof in greeting before dive-tackling her little brother.

“Oof!”

“Awwww! My baby brother is growing up!”

“Gerrofme!”

“Oh okay, fine. You never were any fun.” Vinyl got up, and helped Sable to his hooves. “Wait, what happened to you? I’m pretty sure I didn’t give you that black eye just now. It looks like you got in a fight.”

“Well, that’s because I did.”

“With who? And why? You were supposed to be playing a concert, not trading punches. Did you at least win?”

They took their seats as Sable recounted their evening, from the prep, to the concert, to the fight, and ending with their walk here.”

“...and then I got here, and you tackle me to the floor in public as if we’re still foals,” finished Sable as the salads were passed around.

“So let me get this straight. A big, grown stallion like you got beat up by a bunch of fillies?” Vinyl hoofed Sable in the shoulder.

“Well, when you put it that way, it just sounds wrong,” pointed out Riff.

“You’re right. I’ve had my fun, and I’m honestly sorry that happened. I’ve met Spitfire before you know, and she never was that much of a hothead...tehehe, pardon the pun.” She turned to look at Shadow. “You must be quite the stallion to end a fight, let alone piss her off like that. Hmm...you look kind of cute.”

Shadow coughed violently until the slurry of lettuce and cucumber had left his windpipe. Once he had caught his breath, he responded a little more sedately.

“I’m sorry?”

“You heard me. I know a few nice mares who might be interested in meeting you...but they can wait until we’ve talked a while.”

“That’s nice,” deadpanned Shadow, before returning his full attention to his salad. Vinyl stared at him expectantly for a few more seconds before coughing awkwardly into a hoof.

“So...” asked Riff hesitantly.

“So uh yeah!” followed Vinyl, every bit as eager to change the topic. “I just started on a new collab project...”

The conversation ebbed and flowed as the night wore on. Dinner was uneventful, save for Shadow chugging his down so fast that Vivace accused him of inhaling it. That moment aside, it passed in a haze of cheery conversation. Cheerful except for Shadow...I gotta fix this. He hasn’t so much as said a word since Vinyl hit on him.

When the bill finally showed up, Riff’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull.

“Two hundred bits?! But we just got dinner and a few drinks!”

“Oh hush you, I’m taking care of it.” Vinyl gave a mix of crowns and bits to the waitress, and then got to her hooves. “Well, it’s been great, but it’s a quarter ‘til ten, and my set starts at ten-thirty. Gotta run if I don’t wanna be late.”

“Awwww sis, you said you could spend tonight with us!”

“No, I said I could have dinner with you. But I’m not gonna leave you hanging.” She tossed a small pouch onto the table where it landed with a *clink*. “Should be more than enough bits for you all to have a good night at that bar across the street. Have a good one!”

“Sounds good to me, thanks!” called Sable as he waved farewell.

Sounds good to me too. A little whiskey and Shadow will perk right up. Help him forget long enough to get over it.

Needing no further prodding, they followed Vinyl to the door. As they went to cross the street, Shadow wordlessly turned to the left and started off on his own. Oh no you don’t. Riff bounded after him as quickly as he could on a very full stomach.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Home.”

“Nuh-uh. Unless you have something drastically more important to do than ‘go mope by yourself’, you’re gonna come mope with friends, over drinks.”

“I don’t drink.”

“Yeah, that’s what they all say, and they all lie.” Riff put a foreleg over Shadow’s back, causing the smaller stallion to jump at the touch. “Dude, come on now. I’m not going to hurt you. I just want you to relax and get all that off your back. We’re here for you, but you gotta trust us. Can you do that for us?”

Heaving a long sigh, Shadow reached up and pushed the leg off. Riff was expecting him to walk away, but Shadow turned to face him, and nodded slowly. Foregoing further words, they walked side by side towards the bar.

Neon green light splashed down upon them, proclaiming the building with flakey plaster and dirty windows to be ‘Top of the Firkin’. It was certainly sketchy, but from plenty of past experiences, Riff know such places tended to be a lot nicer than they looked. Upon pushing in the door, he was rewarded with a well-lit room, most of the homely wooden tables already taken up with boisterous customers sharing drinks and stories. It was clean, and very noisy.

“‘Bout time you got here! What took ya?”

Sable, Vivace, and Double Kick were already waiting on the bar stools, drinks in hoof. Sable motioned for Riff and Shadow to join them. They wasted no time planting their rumps on the stools. Curiosity demanded he check on what the other three were drinking, but Riff had no time to look before the barkeep appeared in front of him.

“Good evening, what can I get for you gentlecolts?”

“Oh, just what...” Riff craned his neck to see Sable holding a large mug of Haynickens in one hoof. “...he’s having.”

“Uhm...something strong,” offered Shadow.

“Well, I could get you a Manehatten Iced Tea like the mare down there has, or I can get you a menu.”

“No...nothing sweet.”

“Ok, well that cuts out most everything aside from shots or straight liquor in some form or another. Can I get you some some tequila, vodka, whiskey, Southern or Northern Braytish?”

Shadow rubbed his chin with a hoof for a moment.

“How about all four?”

Whoa boy.

“Ah, well that’s called ‘The Four Grim’, and if I may? That will taste a lot better if you separate each of them to individual shots.”

“Go for it,” offered Shadow, and then started to dig into his always-present worn out saddlebags. Once the bartender had left, Riff began to accost Shadow.

“What the hay are you thinking!?”

“You wanted me to.”

“Not like this! I figured you’d get something mild, and talk with us for a while. This is just going to hurt you worse.”

“If it bothers you, I can pay for it.”

“No, no, we’ve got enough bits, but you can’t start the night with four drinks! That’s going to mess you up.”

Shadow finished digging around and pulled and a small leg-band with a syringe on it. He had a bit of trouble getting it around the foreleg not covered by his watch, but soon it was affixed. One tap served to leave a little red light blinking on it.

“The point is to get messed up right? And do I really look like a lightweight to you?”

“Not really, but what is that thing?”

“Anti-alcohol auto-injector. If something big comes up, I get injected, and after thirty seconds of sheer agony I’m sober again. Don’t say I don’t care about you guys.”

“Something big? What have you got going on that would require you to kill your night out that fast?”

Shadow shrugged.

“Well then, if you’re not really gonna stay and talk, will you at least let me walk you back to your place afterwards?” begged Riff.

“Sure.”

Barring further conversation of the sort, the bartender returned with four shot glasses, and four liquor bottles in magical tow. He filled them each to the brim, three with shades of brown, and one clear. Next came a large-handle mug with Riff’s beer. Lastly, he set down a small glass filled with another clear liquid.

“I figured you’d be wanting some water with that,” offered the bartender. “I’m sorry really. That’s gonna hurt, boy...”

“Heh, thanks.” Shadow took the bit pouch and hoofed the barkeep his bits, then casually downed each of the shots one after another, neglecting the water until he had finished all four. He licked his lips, then got off the stool slowly.

Damnit, I don’t even get to finish my drink before he wants to go. I sure hope he’s in a talking mood on the way back. Chuckling at the ludicrousness of his own thoughts, Riff followed Shadow outside. There he found the older stallion sitting on his rump and taking deep breaths.

“Hit you hard, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Well nothing for that now, lets get you home.”

By now the streets were dark wherever the odd magical lamp did not hold sway, and the air quiet. Situated halfway into the bad part of town, Shadow’s apartment was not a good place for a half-drunk pony to be walking through alone. Riff was still trying to find a way to break the awkward silence when Shadow did so for him.

“I’m sorry for lying to you by the way.”

“Huh, what?”

“When I told you I don’t drink.”

“Pfffft, don’t worry about it. Everypony has some sort of guilty pleasure to help himself get through the week. Mine’s those magazines you’ve probably seen at my place.”

Shadow shrugged.

“Well...mine’s a bottle of yak vodka I keep under the bed.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah...I have trouble sleeping some, well ok, most nights. The stuff helps me forget everything else and go to sleep, though I have the funny feeling tonight won’t be any better than usual.”

“Probably not. Do you mind me asking what the deal between you and Spitfire really was?”

“Not really. Well let me think...we met in flight school, and then again a few years after I finished college. She wanted me to coach for her team, and I accepted. I kind of always admired her, but seeing her strive for her goals with such passion was inspiring, and I fell for her. After a particularly hard day, I went ahead and told her...and I’m not good at these things--”

You can say that again.

“--but regardless, she said ‘no’, and I guess now I know she fired me. That’s really all there is to tell, aside from what you already saw today.”

“That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?”

“Maybe, but the circumstances were...extenuating. I don’t really blame her.”

“And after what happened tonight?”

“She was drinking, and I let my anger get the better of me. Not exactly her fault either.”

“That seems very kind of you on both accounts.”

“Not kind, just the logical conclusion.”

“You don’t exactly seem thrilled about it.”

At that statement, something in Shadow seemed to break. His head drooped, and his steps became haphazard. When he replied, it was in a much higher pitched voice, tripping on some of the words.

“No, I’m not, and that’s what I don’t understand. When I know in my mind that we will never be together, and understand that concept, it should bring a finality, and with that, peace of mind. Yet, it is as if some part of me yearns that it not be true. It hurts, as if there were fire burning me from within, burning for the hope that she might somehow, after all that has happened, accept me. It was the same way with Sherry. Months upon months of it. I missed somepony being there to hold me, telling me she cared when life fell apart around me. Riff, I wish I could just stop wanting her. It’s only making me hurt, and her hurt, without any good reason.”

Crud I’m not good at this! Here goes.

“Shadow, the heart doesn’t need a reason, and it can’t be forced to care or not care. It’s normal to want a mare to wrap you in her forelegs, even if it isn’t going to happen.”

“I suppose, but I hate not being able to understand myself.”

Around the corner lay a darkened mass of apartments, with barred windows, and many missing shingles. It was the cheap kind of housing that a starting musician would live in, and Riff himself had only just moved to a nicer neighborhood. At least he seems tough enough to make it here, so I guess he’s just saving bits on on housing. When they got to the door marked with a faded ‘17’, Shadow fished around in his saddlebags for the key, and fed it into the lock.

“Look, Shadow, before we part ways, you gotta promise me something.”

“That depends on what it is.”

“Don’t drink anymore tonight. And if you really can’t hold to that, don’t take any painkillers.”

This only served to elicit a chuckle from Shadow.

“Riff, I may be tired, tipsy, and lovesick, but I would never even think of killing myself. I appreciate the concern, but there are more ponies than you depending on me to be around.

“Well, goodnight then.”

“Goodnight.”

The door shut behind Shadow, and Riff let out a sigh of relief. Ok, well, if he won't hurt himself, my job here is done. Here’s to hoping the other’s haven’t left yet. Turning tail, he trotted swiftly back the way he came.

Author's Note

About. Damn. Time.

I've had this ready for almost three months, and was just waiting on the song. Never having produced music before, let alone as a collab, it turned into a lot of work. The guitars are me, recorded, and the keyboard, bass, and ambient I all built. The drums are all by my buddy Miche from FOB Equestria, and I couldn't have done it without him. The vocals...are unfortunately by me as well. Our vocalist is too busy right now and I wanted to finish this story before my editor gets deployed to Antarctica (no joke on that).

Chapter Eight is almost all done too, so expect that in the next few days.