//------------------------------// // Part 2 // Story: The Music Goes On // by bahatumay //------------------------------// “You’re clear,” the guard said. “Just call if you need us, and don’t forget the safeword.” “Thanks,” Octavia said quietly. She walked slowly through the dingy, dusty dungeon (it was not often used, after all), until she came to the cell holding the thing that had been Vinyl Scratch. The two former lovers stared at each other before the changeling looked down in shame, waiting for Octavia to speak. Octavia didn’t speak for a long time. Her life had come crashing down. Without Vinyl in her life, not even music held its normal appeal. Finally, she broke the silence. "How long?" she asked. The prisoner cowered slightly, and looked sheepishly aside. “How. Long?” Octavia demanded. The thing that had been Vinyl tried to look up, but couldn’t meet her eyes. Octavia reared up and slammed her forehooves against the grate. “How long?” she screamed. “How long have you been feeding off me? How long have you lied to me, and where is the real Vinyl Scratch? Answer me!” The changeling pointed to herself and nodded fervently. “Use words. Surely that’s not above you?” “Miss Octavia?” the guard called. “Changelings can’t speak our language in their native forms. It’ll have to transform before you can understand it, and the ring inhibitor won’t let them change.” “Can you take it off?” “That would require permission from high up top.” “I’ll wait.” * * * Two hours later, a young guard returned with an authorization form, and, with the safeword written, the ring was removed. “No funny business,” the guard warned. “I’ll be watching.” With one final glare, he turned and headed back towards the front.. The changeling smiled hopefully, but the effect was ruined ever so slightly by the sharp fangs in her mouth. “Talk," Octavia growled. The changeling flared green fire, and there again stood Vinyl Scratch. She opened her mouth to speak, but Octavia wasn't having any of that. “Not her!” Octavia roared, slamming both forehooves against the bars again. “You don’t get to take her form! Ever!” The changeling stumbled back, surprised at her outburst, and desperately flared green fire again. Octavia found herself face to face with a carbon copy of herself, except without a bow-tie. “You’re certainly not winning yourself any points like this, you know,” she seethed. Octavia the second nodded, and flared green fire again. Now there stood a slim yellow pegasus with a straight but very voluminous brown mane. "Better?" she asked. "Answer my questions and we'll see. How long has it been you, and where is the real Vinyl Scratch?" "There never was a Vinyl Scratch," she said. "It's always been me." "You lie." "I would never!" she protested. "Oh, so the explosion that sent all changelings flying out of Canterlot just so happened to miss you, then, is that it?” "I was underground in my recording studio, remember? I was getting ready for the wedding reception that night! I didn’t even know there was an invasion planned for that day! It's me and I love you!" "Don't say that!" Octavia screamed. "You can't love! You feed on it!" "I just betrayed my entire kind, do you realize that? I've helped expose fellow changelings so I could stay with you! What do you call that, huh?" "Survival of the fittest, so you could keep me alive and feed off me for the rest of my life? You're lying again!" Octavia accused. "I am not!" The pegasus stomped her hoof angrily. "Please believe me!" "Prove it!" Octavia spat. "Tell me something only the real Vinyl would know." The pegasus blushed. "Well..." "Unless you can't." Faux-Vinyl swallowed, and her wings fluttered ever so slightly in nervousness. "April 24, last year. You gave me your virginity on the couch of your apartment after a beautifully flawless performance. Your favorite part was when I started spanking you with your cello now, and my favorite part was that 'nyah!' sound you made the first time you climaxed." Octavia froze and her jaw dropped. She had sworn Vinyl to secrecy on that matter, for obvious reasons, and if this changeling knew... The guard listening choked back a laugh, and Octavia gave him her best death glare before facing Vinyl again, but this time seeing her in a new light. "Why?" she asked. "Because you asked me to and I love you." "No, I mean... Why? Why did you choose me? Why would you betray your own kind for me?" "Traitors should be executed, regardless of race," the guard muttered. The pegasus turned and growled. "Shut your trap, shinyflank, nopony asked you!" The pegasus then faced Octavia and flared green fire, and there stood Vinyl again. "Remember when we first met?" she asked, taking a hesitant step forward, her red eyes silently pleading for mercy. "Both of us, sitting there in the jail cell? Me, for multiple noise violations and you because they thought you were that one jewel thief? You tasted so lonely then, and I..." "Tasted?" "Changelings can taste ambient emotions. It's how I always knew which song to play next. If it tasted like ponies wanted to party, if they wanted to slow dance, if they were getting tired, you get the picture. I could sense that, and I just played whatever fit their mood." "And that's how you feed?" Octavia surmised. "Ambient emotions?" "Yep. Changelings don't always drain their food, you know." Vinyl paused, before her ears flopped and she lifted a hoof submissively. "Not like I saw you as food or anything. Please don't think that!" "What should I think?" Octavia asked, more calmly than she felt. Vinyl licked her lips. "Most changelings hide and stay in the shadows, working in sneakery." "That's not a word." "I don't care. But me? I go out and stay in the open. Everypony knows Vinyl Scratch. I've always been a fan of a challenge, you know." Octavia knew. More than once she had witnessed the aftermath of a drinking contest that Vinyl had entered, and more often than not she had won. "And when I saw you sitting there, huddled against that cell wall, with your wrinkled pink bow-tie and your ruffled mane, you just tasted so lonely. You felt so sad. You had a love of music, so I knew you could love, but you were so alone and... and I wanted to know if I could make you happy." "So I was a challenge for you." The pegasus blushed lightly. "Originally, yes." "Congratulations, you succeeded," Octavia said bitterly. "I have never been happier than when you came into my life." "A little too successful," Vinyl continued. "I fell in love with you, too." "You're a changeling," Octavia accused. "You feed on love. You can't produce it." "Oh yeah? What is love, Octi?" Octavia opened her mouth to answer... and then realized that she couldn't. Vinyl smiled a sad half-smile. "I can't answer that either. I just know that I've been many places, woken up next to many different ponies, and done some crazy things in my life; but you... You make me want to be better. You make me feel like I'm somepony special and not just another changeling in the hive. You make me feel like I'm worth something. Of all the places I want to wake up, your bed next to you is at the top of my list. And I love you for that." Octavia smiled. "I suppose that is a good enough definition of love if any." She chuckled lightly, finding comfort in the small amusements. "You always know what to say." Vinyl buffed a hoof against her chest and examined it nonchalantly. "What can I say? My favorite instruments are turntables and Tavi’s heartstrings." They were interrupted by a harsh cough. A guard stood in the doorway, his armor markings indicating a slightly higher rank than the ones that had let Octavia in. "I hate to interrupt such a... 'touching moment', but visiting hours are over." Octavia nodded and turned to leave. Vinyl silently watched as she did. She paused in front of the guard. "What will happen to her?" she asked. The guard stared impassively. "Don't know. The word from up top is that one will have a lighter sentence because it obviously didn't warn any changelings in the area, but it's still a criminal." "Just for being who she is?" Octavia asked, putting emphasis on 'she'. "It would appear so. Do you wish to leave of your own free will, or do you need an escort?" Octavia glared darkly before continuing her walk outside. * * * The next morning, Octavia tapped her visitor's badge impatiently as she waited for clearance and today's safeword. The same guard returned to the lobby, still wearing that flat expression. "The prisoner you wanted to see is already gone." "Gone?" Octavia gasped. "Wh- whatever for?" "She’s already been exiled." "Exiled?" Octavia repeated. "Turns out the princess decided that since she didn't help the changelings or leak the test, she wasn't a complete threat and she was exiled this morning." The guard shrugged. "Good riddance, I say. Hopefully her own kind will kill her instead." And that’s how Octavia learned that one backhoof to the face can be considered assaulting a guard, and that particular charge brings a large fine, a court date, and a minimum of two nights in jail. * * * Octavia wasn’t entirely sure how she’d gotten there, but the moment she was released she thought, ‘I need a drink’, and her body responded by taking her to the nightclub where she had met Vinyl so long ago. She sat at the bar itself, nursing a large bottle of the highest proof alcohol she could stand. Which wasn't much, to be honest; but it's the thought that counts. It was funny, really. She used to de-stress by playing her cello, or other various instruments. Sometimes by composing. And through it all, Vinyl always knew what to say to cheer her up. Vinyl... Octavia downed her glass and refilled it again. She had sat there for about two hours when she heard the scraping of a bar stool next to her and a cheerful voice greet her. "Hey, you're sure looking down. What's up?" "I'm really not interested," Octavia said tersely, not even looking at the mare speaking to her. "Oh, don't be like that. Can I get a half-smile at least?" Octavia grunted what might have been an affirmation, but didn't look up yet. "I'm Turntable, DJ master-apprentice and prodigy. In fact, I'm going to be the next Vinyl Scratch." Octavia turned, glaring daggers at the cheery light-pink unicorn mare with a messy pink mane and a set of dark sunglasses. "You will never be able to replace Vinyl Scratch!" she roared, batting away the offered hoof. "And if you had half the respect for her that she deserves, you would never mention her name again!" Turntable was, to put it lightly, taken aback at her outburst, and promptly fell off her stool. Octavia recomposed herself, took another drink, and when she spoke again, she was much calmer. "As I said, I am not interested, so if you would be so kind as to take a long walk off a short pier, that would be wonderful." Turntable grinned as she pushed herself to her hooves. "Tell you what. I'll get you something from the bar. If it's your favorite drink, you'll let me sit here. If it's not, I'll go away and leave you alone." Octavia smirked. "I'll take that bet." She had yet to find a chef or waiter who could make her favorite drink right the first try. It had been an experiment that had created it, after all. A mildly drunken experiment fabricated by Vinyl... She bit her lip to suppress another tear and took another drink. It had been a few minutes since Turntable had left, and Octavia had decided that she had likely given up when a glass of frothing liquid suddenly appeared in her vision and slid to a stop in front of her. "They didn't have red creme soda so I just used the regular kind. Sorry about that. But here you are. Two parts cider, one part creme soda, a shot of weak whiskey because you're a lightweight for an earth pony, spritz of lime, salt coating on the rim..." Her horn brought a small, foil packet floating through the air as she continued, "and a pat of butter." Unwrapping it deftly, she dropped it in the mug and let it sink to the bottom. Octavia could only stare. "How did you..." Turntable pulled her sunglasses down, revealing brilliant red eyes. "Let’s just say... I know these things," she grinned. She held up her own glass. “Cheers, Tavi?” Octavia picked up the glass and tried to suppress a smile (and the urge to tackle the unicorn to the ground in a crushing hug). "Well, I suppose that upon further reflection, the prospect of a little company might not be such a bad thing after all. Cheers, then.”