//------------------------------// // Chapter 4 // Story: Nevermore // by CinnamonSticks //------------------------------// Octavia crumpled the paper in her hoofs as spots blotted her view of the tiny yellow pegasus before her. "Um...Miss M-M-Melody? Are you a-a-alright?" said aforementioned pegasus. "Yes, I'm fine. I'll be fine." The statement was slightly dulled by the fact that she was snorting clouds of steam into the cold air and pawing viciously at the ground. "Do you w-want to talk about it?" The question surprised Octavia, because, after all, she did want to talk to someone, and the Element of Kindness (who she had now identified the mare as) was supposed to be- well, kind. "Actually, would you mind listening to a silly mare's worries for a few minutes?" she said to Fluttershy. Fluttershy nodded and slipped inside Octavia's townhouse. Octavia let a smile hint at her lips for the first time since Vinyl's disappearance. Closing the door against the chill winter air, she offered Fluttershy a seat on the sofa, where they both sat. "So w-w-what is it?" Octavia made to say something in a normal, quiet fashion but the words came tumbling out faster than she could stop them. "Well, Vinyl Scratch and I were supposed to have a concert together tonight, and after we were going to go to dinner for Hearth Warming's Eve and it was supposed to be perfect and happy but then Vinyl did another show in C-C-Canterlot and got d-d-drunk and f-f-forgot about me and I-I-I," She stopped. It was too much for her. Hiding her face in her hooves, she wept. "Miss Melody? Octavia?" Octavia felt Fluttershy lightly push her hooves away. "It's going to be alright. Vinyl just let her party personality get out of control. It was no one's fault. You didn't do anything," Fluttershy said. She had completely stopped stuttering. It was this tiny fact that brought Octavia back to reality. She sighed and pushed her mane out of her face. "You're right. I can't put the hoof of blame on anyone. It was an accident. I- I need to talk to her." She sprang off the sofa- or tried to. "No!" Fluttershy squealed, slamming her hoof across her. "I won't let you leave for a heart-to-heart chat looking like this!" Internally, Octavia giggled. The timid mare had a fiery personality- who'd have thunk? Fluttershy pushed Octavia to her bathroom (how she knew where it was will remain forever unknown) and began dabbing at her reddened eyes with a wet washcloth. She pulled a brush through her long gray mane and straightened Octavia's bowtie. "I've always wondered," said Fluttershy curiously, "why the bowtie?" Octavia giggled, outwardly this time. Ponies asked this all the time. "Well, they are simplistic and professional. They lend an air of authority and beauty at the same time. Bowties are cool." Fluttershy smiled and spun her around to look in the mirror. "Rarity could've done better, but you look wonderful. Now c'mon!" Octavia let herself be pulled out the door and into a waiting cab. Fluttershy waved goodbye and disappeared into the mass of shifting ponies walking the streets. "Where to, ma'am?" said the driver, a gruff stallion with a blond mane and an orange coat. "Number fourteen, Cliffdale Road," she replied. Vinyl has always preferred to live outside of the more metropolitan area of Ponyville, enjoying an apartment further outside of the hustle and bustle of downtown Ponyville. "Yes, ma'am." The driver pulled away from the main street and began to drive down an alleyway, which Octavia knew from experience was the fastest way to Vinyl's apartment. Taxi drivers in this section of Ponyville were always looking for the fastest ways to finish a job, so they could take more clients. Everyone in the arts sector was up and running at all hours, so this was a better strategy for making more money. Octavia was rehearsing what she would say to Vinyl when suddenly- BANG! A shot rang out, shattering the glass in the windshield as the driver made to enter the next alleyway. The stallion whinnied in dismay and stopped the car. Octavia saw him pull a gun from below his seat. This must happen often, for him to carry a gun thought Octavia, terrified though she was. "I don't want to hurt anyone; just put down the guns and we can all leave," said the driver. Octavia poked her head around the seat to see what was happening. The driver was holding a gun against at least four other ponies, all with guns of their own. "Hmm. Not in the best position, eh? You're a wee bit outnumbered," laughed an Irish pony with a target cutie mark, hefting a gun. "Neither are you, seeing as I have telephoned the police," replied the driver. Octavia knew that he had had no time to do anything of the sort. The other ponies seemed to realize this, as they all laughed. "Got anypony wid' you?" said a stallion with a strong Manehatten accent, gesturing to the cab. Octavia ducked her head back behind the seat. The pony seemed to be the ringleader of them all. He wore dark sunglasses tucked under a shock of raven's feather black mane. The crook didn't even have to pull a gun- he seemed to positively radiate danger. Nopony in their right minds would mess with him. "Nopony. Just movin' to pick up somepony in the outer sectors." Octavia felt a rush of gratitude for the driver. "Oh really?" sniggered the Manehatten pony. Octavia heard a few ponies begin to approach the car, their hooves clacking against the cobblestones loudly. "'Cause I saw somepony sittin' in the back when youse was drivin' up." Octavia was absolutely horrorstruck. /)*(\ At this time, Vinyl Scratch was pacing her apartment. Back, forth, back, forth. Her thoughts raged up a stormy sea, taking her from Octi to the brink of emotional meltdown, to her wrongdoings, and back again. Should she go and find her? Shouldn't she? Vinyl sighed and teleported (one of the few non music-related spells she had been able to master) to an alleyway nearby Octavia's house before she could change her mind. She had tried teleporting into the middle of the street directly outside Octi's door once, and had crushed more than a few ponies. She wasn't going to let that happen again. She walked slowly, though purposefully, not letting herself think too much, should she reconsider. Such was her preoccupation of not thinking that she was too lost in her not-thoughts to realize what was happening in the alleyway ahead of her. Until, that is, someone fired a shot.