Manehattan, a few hours of flight from Canterlot, is the uncontested home away from home for high society and culture. The Metropolis was gracefully designed on a gently sloping area of land facing towards the water. Uptown was where your typical business district was located, with each building stepping down the hill, none of them taller than the one before, so as not to interrupt the view of the water. The roads, like all of Uptown, were squared and measured to pinpoint precision. Every building had a sidewalk skirting its edges and some of the bigger buildings had plazas and industrial parks in the front. Every facet of Uptown carried itself with precision and grace.
Downtown however, was a different matter entirely. Sure the two districts shared similarities, but they were more akin and comparable to brothers. Uptown was all business, precision, and uniformity. Downtown was more focused on art, music, grace, and style. Downtown Manehatten, for the most part, adhered to straight roads to travel through, but they were more like canvas borders. Inside of these borders, roads tended to curve elegantly, and sweep through the district to emphasize its finesse. Here you could find plenty of coffee shops and galleries and you could see many buildings with sweeping halls and spiraling statues. There were music halls, promontories, and parks which culminated into the schools and universities that graced Downtown.
Among the universities of Downtown Manehatten, the largest university was easily the Manehatten University of Fine Arts. This university was also the home of the recently completed Manehatten Amphitheater. After construction, it was to be the second largest concert hall in Equestria after the Canterlot Hall of Performing Arts. The architect had drawn inspiration from the Sydneigh Opera House, but he took several liberties with the design, so there were obvious artistic and stylistic differences from the original design. This grand hall could seat a staggering number of ponies, and was designed to be used for many different events with little time in between.
Tomorrow its grand opening, with a massive orchestral concert set to take place. In fact, the Phillydelphia Philharmonic Orchestra and the Royal Canterlot Orchestra were performing together. The composition had been hoof-crafted by Phillip Fortissimo, one of the University’s very own students. The rest of his class had helped provide input and critical structuring until the number had become a three piece suite. Phillip would be granted the unrivaled privilege of conducting his masterpiece. The concert had been hyped for weeks until the other universities and all of Manehatten had joined in. Due to the massive amount of attention and ponies attending, the mayor decided to set up a giant festival beforehoof. There was even talk of a Wonderbolts show taking place and an after party, and it all began tomorrow…
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Sometimes it was nice to be famous, having different luxuries like a top floor Luna suite with its own swimming pool and open deck, an indoor hot tub, an open bar, and the softest pillows and beds to boot. There was only a small price to pay for the package; once the paparazzi found them, the flood of flashbulbs and questions would stem forth. Also it became something of a hindrance to take a morning stretch without being flooded by ponies. If life was a party, the Wonderbolts were the VIP.’s, or at least, Soarin was the second in command VIP. Spitfire had always been better with the crowds, but he was content to coordinate stunts and occasionally delegate orders.
It was great that he and Spitfire got along and knew each other so well, because sometimes their world did get to them and they would look at each other as an occasional punching bag. Downtown Manehatten was definitely not the worst view in the world. The wind coming off the water and even the water itself were divine luxuries. Soarin looked across the evening sky to the unavoidable sight of the spotlights emanating from around the amphitheater. Well, a show was a show as the saying goes, but so help Celestia, he was going on a nice, ten day vacation after this.
He was also really banking on an epic after party and more than a few drinks. That was another thing about being a part of the Wonderbolts. As a whole, they had a penchant for a good party and a good drink or few. Their antics were as well known, if not better so, than their professionalism. That was way more speculation than Soarin cared for at the moment though. Right now his stomach was telling him it was time to eat, and then rest. After all, tomorrow was a big day.
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To say that the train ride over had been spectacularly interesting was one way to put it. In reality, it was an unmitigated disaster. They had spent at least half an hour dragging Rarity out of her shop because she wanted as many, and then more, dresses and accessories to show off as possible. There was Applejack, wanting to work until the last possible moment, and then of course she and Rarity got into it because AJ refused to wash until later. Then there was Twilight. She had packed a large pile of books on a range of subjects, and lists….so many lists. Pinkie pie only brought one bag, and Celestia only knew what that bag contained, but at least she, Fluttershy, and Rainbow Dash were ready.
In fact, Rainbow Dash was quite easily the first one ready, probably due to the fact that the Wonderbolts were announced to be there. At the train station, Rainbow Dash and Applejack had some sort of competition involving loading baggage, mostly Rarity’s, into the train to win the window seat, only to find afterwards that Pinkie Pie had already taken it. Fluttershy was last to board, quietly letting everyone on before her. Finally, they were packed and settled and the train pulled out of the station. Sure, Spike would have liked to have gone with them, but as they’d said, someone had to keep the town safe from the Cutie Mark Crusaders. Suddenly, the spines on Spikes neck tingled and he got a very bad feeling. Turning around slowly, he saw the very three, the faces of pure innocence and terror unending, all smiling at him.
As one, they let out their mighty war cry, “Cutie Mark Crusader Makeover Specialists YAY!” With a yelp, Spike turned tail and fled from them. It was going to be a long weekend.
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A couple of blocks down from the grand opening there was a rather large building known as Neon Nights. The place was a club that tried to cater to any and every party possible. The building’s previous owner had managed to go out of business, leaving behind a huge debt. The new owner, Neon Glow, had arranged a deal with the nearby universities, and slowly cleared off the debt. Neon Glow helped run the popular radio station, MUR, or Manehattan Universities Radio, as one of the hosts. This proved beneficial, as he would spotlight local acts, artists to give them exposure. The life of Neon Glow was hectic and crammed to put it lightly. Because he was a junior in college as well as a talk show host and nightclub owner, he could laugh the word stress out of the dictionary on a slow day.
Still, this grand opening was a huge opportunity because of the after-party, the time when a lot of the performers and crowd members would be looking for a place to sit back, let their manes down, and let loose. The only problem was that not just any group or artist would do, no “just a DJ”, no regular rising star, no. Somepony special would have to do this. If the composer came from Manehatten University of Fine Arts, then maybe Neon Glow could find an artist that came from one of the many Manehattan universities as well.
For two weeks this search plagued Neon as he held competitions, and fielded offers, but nopony met his expectations. Then, three days before the concert, when he was about to give up, there was a break through. This came in the form of an email from one of his co-hosts at the radio station. Apparently, one of his friends had heard some kid playing a track at a club and the friend had sent it to him. Virtually overnight, the track had gone viral and exploded. Neon clicked the music file, with hope against hope clawing at his insides, and the music washed over him. Neon smiled and reached for the phone. Now he was in business.
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Sleek and Powerful, free and fully charged, just a few adjectives that could be tossed around about flying. It was hard to put in words for non-flyers. Just the simple feeling of the wind flowing around your body, and through your fur, was sheer divinity in itself. There was also the fact that one could turn by the simple rotation of a wing. The most amazing experience was climbing higher into the blue sky then stalling and diving.
These two moves were moments of giddy anticipation, happiness, and borderline adrenalin-pumping fear. For stalling, there was no better description than time standing still. Even if it was the briefest of moments, it seemed frozen forever. Finally, her body succumbed to gravity and her wings started to pump, gathering immense speed for the dive. As she accelerated, the pegasus started to twist just slightly, spiraling faster and faster until she broke cloud cover. A long strand of clouds followed her. Now it was time for some exercises, Wonderbolt style. Lowering her flight goggles over her eyes, Spitfire began to practice for real.
Normally she would have practiced with her team, but she needed some alone time every now and then. Over the Manehattan harbor, Spitfire let loose. She flew at steadily increasing speeds, zipping in-between, over, and under the low, sporadic cloud cover. She reveled in the feeling of wind resistance building up as she went faster until she was starting to form a Mach cone. At that point the contrail behind her actually ignited and Spitfire was followed by a contrail of fire. The fire seemed to chase her in a game of cat and mouse through the clouds, never far from her. After half an hour of high speed flight Spitfire dove, spiraling again before leveling off over the water headed towards shore.
She let her speed bleed off slowly before she dove into the waves and her contrail dissipated with a giant cloud of steam. Then she surfaced the water and after grabbing her things from her starting place on the beach, flew towards her hotel. On the way back, her phone rang with a number she hadn’t seen in months. Flipping it open she answered and began to speak.
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Disbelief. Sheer, unfiltered, disbelief. That was what she was feeling at the moment. The fact that Neon Glow was currently on the other line, talking to her, was amazing. The thing that blew her mind though was the fact that her first compilation had gone viral, and had become an overnight hit! These two facts, added to the fact that Neon wanted her to play the after-party for the grand opening of the Manehatten Amphitheater, was unbelievable. Stress would come soon enough, that was obvious, as would a copious loss of sleep. For right now though, pure joy and electric excitement flowed through her veins. She tried to keep all of this out of her voice as she shook the hair from her face and continued the conversation as confidently and professionally as possible.
They discussed how everything would be set up and arranged, payment, and set length. It seemed she would be playing for two hours, and would have to bring her ‘A’ game. Smiling, she guaranteed she would not only bring her ‘A’ game, she would bring her PON-3 game. After disconnecting the call with Neon Glow, everything started to settle in. Only three days to prepare a two hour long set, a process that could take up to a week, was a ridiculous timescale that was going to be extremely difficult. Not to mention the fact that this was Neon Nights, a huge venue on a regular day, and for this party it was going to be talked about for years to come. The performance was going to have to be beyond top notch.
She took a deep breath and gathered her thoughts before she cracked her neck and grabbed her wallet. First it was time to gather supplies. Grabbing her shades, she went to prepare for battle. An hour later she returned shopping bags filled with coffee, microwave foods, sweets, energy drinks, and sodas. She locked the door, closed the blinds, and went to her battle station. Her name was Vinyl Scratch, or DJ PON-3 to all of her fans. Turning on her three monitors and putting on her lime green headphones, she began to work. A few hours in, an idea struck her that needed a friend that she hadn’t seen in a while. Flipping open her cell phone, Vinyl made calls to a few ponies, and then got off the line, reopened all of her programs, and jumped into her work.
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