A Duel of String and Tunes
“Diligence is the mother of good luck.”
Benjamin Franklin
The showhouse was packed to the brim this particular evening. Sure, it normally was a very popular place (Constant working lighting! Semi-cooled drinks! Under-the-table chem exchanges!), but this night? A special event was being hosted. A drifting stallion, by the name of ‘Hold’em’, renowned from city to city, wishes to play for them all. It wasn’t often that they in particular were picked; they were just a small place in the middle of a town smack-jab, dead center in the origin point of the least-trafficked area of the Equestrian Wastes, to the point that if it weren’t there, the path would’ve been long-forgotten.
The place went by the name “The Pink Flamingo.” Nopony who visited knew what a ‘Flamingo’ was, or that it was probably extinct except for a few, exceedingly small pockets, but not too many ponies go out searching for ancient wildlife, especially if it’s name resembles ‘Flame’. Too risky, even for the most suicidal among us. Just plain dumb.
Back to the place; It was a warehouse, pre-war, that apparently housed many items from the old Las Pegas strip. Some prospectors happened upon it, and realizing that with the supplies available, they could make a stable, pretty supply of caps, they set up shop. Most of the show’s are fairly routine; A one-winged pegasus ghoul by the name of ‘Flare’ puts up a fireworks display outside, sometimes they’re graced with the presence of a travelling musician, and when they aren’t, there’s always somepony who’s willing to step up and try their luck at slapstick. Who knows, they might be a natural.
Hold’em, however, shocked them all by saying, on-air, that he planned on going to perform at this exact venue, which, as we stated, is so far off the way you’d need to tape on a whole new section of map to include it. Nopony knew WHY, they only knew WHEN and WHERE. And thus began the biggest explosion of rooms rented, Sparkle-Cola’s sold, and chem’s dealt the place had ever experienced.
In the days coming up, more and more flocked to the place, even after they said, and I quote, “We’re full up. Anypony more comes, and we might have to start building real estate!”
Turns out, give some ponies the chance for quality entertainment, and they’ll build you a shanty town. Who would've guessed? No points for answering correctly.
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Hold’em smiled, smiled more, and kept on smiling as if it had been carved into his face, and/or expected by a crowd of gun-toting ponies who expect a damn good experience. Considering where he is, it’s probably the latter. He ain’t in raider territory yet.
The crowd surrounded him, consumed him, pushing out rudimentary writing utensils for him to sign their parchment/forehead/side/flank/whatever other surface you can think up. He didn’t want to think of why they smelled so... off.
He gave out a few signatures on different parchment/forehead/side/flank/whatever’s, before rising up the stairs to the main stage. Considering the ponies here, it was actually... kinda, nice. Solid, wasn’t creaking, and had a stand with a magical microphone (provided by somepony who helped run the place. It’d only amplify his voice and it would disappear after the spell was over, but it’s good, because YOU try and find a normal working microphone in the wastes. I bet you can’t.) all set up.
Giving the crowd a quick lookover, he retired to a seat that he had brought up with him and pulled out his instrument of choice; a guitar. What, you expected some fancy thing like an enchanted lyre? No, it’s just a normal guitar. Doesn’t mean he isn’t able to play it well, though; Octavia might’ve managed to play a Cello with just hooves, but Hold’em could play a guitar with just wings. (Not a dashite, mares! Sorry to disappoint! Just a descendant of one.)
Overall, the performance went as expected. Ponies were happy, cheering, cooing, swooning, and... looking at the other side of the stage...?
A little bit of story about Hold’em; When he was little, he lost somepony close to him; his sister, who taught him how to play. He’d been beating himself up over it ever since.
Across from him sat someone who played just as good, if not better, than his sister did. He welcomed a challenge; she had taught him everything she knew. He couldn’t be beaten; not by some ordinary, if somewhat sneaky pony who can play decently. (Okay, a bit more than decently.)
And so they played. Hold’em constantly trying his hardest to play at this mares level (She was playing with hooves, nopony could tell her race due to the complete coverage of her.) She, however... Just, played. No stress, as if just practicing. This infuriated Hold’em. Not just this, the fact that the audience was clapping to the beat of HER playing, and not HIS.
Nopony shows up and takes over his show. NOPONY. He’d have this mysterious mare outplayed, then tossed out to the wastes. (Now if only he could outplay her...)
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Clap.
Clap.
Clap.
Clap.
A resounding applause from an awestruck audience; not at either in particular, but at both. But Hold’em wouldn’t let his single become a duet. No, he’d play the song only he and his sister knew. He’d play...
...The song the mysterious mare is playing. How. HOW. How does this mare know exactly what he plans on playing?! There’s some kind of trickery going on here. There has to be. But for now, I have to prove I’m better. I have to.
Both musicians take up the others beat, playing a Flamenco instrumental, based off of a pre-war song that was blasted by the Minestry of Morale’s eyebots. Both looking at eachother (The mare only showing the body language of doing so, though).
The crowd claps in unison. No, that’s an understatement. The establishment claps in unison. They’re commanding the sight of everypony.
And, as they finish the song (It was a short, very fast one), Hold’em slowly stands up. “Who... are you?”
“I’m just... a little piece of Fate.”
She lifts her head up just enough as to reveal a shade of purple fur matching Hold’em’s, and the exact same sly smirk he’s missed for so many years.
And then it was gone. Just a duster, and a hat, and a few magical sparks faint enough not to be seen by anyone but Hold’em, floating there.
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Quest Perk: Piece of Fate
In your darkest time of need (or if you just need some support in a firefight), Fate will appear and deliver some explosive help; courtesy of her .44 Magnum and her silver tongue.
