//------------------------------// // Chapter Two: The Wrong Side Of The Track // Story: When In A Shadow // by BassMaker //------------------------------// Did you know that you can see the strangest things in Canterlot? For instance, I'm keeping an eye out for an ostentatiously bright green statue of Celestia on my way to 'Beats 'n' Jams'. Quite strange indeed. What street is this? Trottingham? Good, not far to go at all. It seemed strangely empty, even for this time of night. This area almost always has a certain amount of activity, but now, now it's just... desolate. *Clatter* "Hello? Is somepony there?" Celestia, I sound so weak. "Uh... no~?" "...Really?" "Really." "So... Nopony is there?" "Yes." "Hello, Nopony." "..." Now they're clamming up. "Hello, Octavia." "How-" "Newspapers and such." "Ah. I see." "Do you?" "Well, I can not see you, but I can see what you mean." Who is this mare? "No, no you can't." "M-may I?" "May you... what?" Why do I want to see her? Her sense of humour leaves something to be desired. "May I see you? I want to put a face to the voice that has been so kindly wasting my time." Speaking of which, what time is it? I'm sure it's getting awfully late. "Well, if you put it that way, then no. No you can't!" "Fine. Well, I must be on my way then. Go tell your little friends that you got to talk to me." I exhaled sharply. I've got this... Yeah, I've got this... I think... Maybe...... nope. "Can you direct me to 'Beats 'n' Jams'?" "Filly, you're nowhere near Jam's place. Come on, I'll show you the way." Was that a mood swing? "Does this mean I get to see you, then?" A white unicorn steps out of an ally way. She's kinda pretty. I'd bet my bow tie that she has somepony back at home for her. "Unless you plan on following my voice." I hate it when hooligans like her have a point. "Lead the way." ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "So, do you have a name?" Never let it be said that I'm antisocial. "Maybe." "..." And the silence ensues. After a few long moments, she finally said, "Vinyl Scratch." "Huh?" What? "My name. Vinyl Scratch, it's my name. Don't suppose you've heard of me before, have you?" "No, I am afraid I have not." It sounded like I should have though. "Why?" "A while back, I was as famous as you are now. I made a bad call, and I suffered for it." A story is no good without back story, and a back story only makes sense if you have something to relate it to. An overview is a synapses of what happens in the story. Is there a back story to this excerpt? One tiny, little question later. "What was your 'bad call'?" "Having faith in my following." Not what I had in mind "Why was that a bad call?" "Can we not talk about this right now?" she snapped. I'm not antisocial, I'm just bad with ponies. "Look, that was uncalled for, I know, but considering how far I fell, can we just... not?" "I am sorry. I had overstepped my boundaries. How much farther until we get to 'Beats 'n' Jams'?" We stop in front of a place called 'Sound Barrier'. "No farther actually. We're here." "Thank you so much, Vinyl. I suppose this is where we part ways then?" "Can you find your way home?" "Hmm..." Let's see, I go down the street, take a left... I glance at her. But I want to learn more about her, like why's she wearing sunglasses? In the middle of the night no less... "No," I finally say, "I don't believe I can. Could you help?" "Yeah, course I can. Just go and get your cello strings." "How-" "I'm not going to bother explaining; just accept it." "I'd like to know." "I was at your show tonight. I'm surprised it didn't snap on stage." "Then why were you on Tro-" "I might explain later. Just go and get what you need." "Okay." She's right, I have no place butting into her life. "But this place is-" "Open. 'Beats 'n' Jams' closed a few hours ago. You were actually about a block away from it where we met." I draw my lips into a straight line and then nod my head, saying, "I see," as I open the door. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ It was a quiet little shop. Well kept. Not a spec of dust in sight. Quite the collection of records on sale. I went and got the strings I needed to replace, grabbed a few records from the shelf, and was walking up to the counter to pay for my goods, when I saw something out of the corner of my eye. Just a spot of electric blue. Upon closer inspection, it was indeed the exact same color as Vinyl's mane. I picked the record casing up and saw in bright neon pink at the top 'VINYL SCRATCH'. The price tag was nothing to sneeze at, but I always bring a semi-large sum of bits with me. I added it to my little pile of merchandise at the counter and paid for it all. "I haven't sold anything by Scratch in a few years! What makes you pick it up?" said the old mare as she rang me up. "Just looked kind of interesting, I suppose." "I don't judge." ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ I look around, but can't seem to spot Vinyl anywhere along the street. I guess she had better things to do. I continue on home, where the final thing on my list is: a nice glass of whiskey. "BOO!" I squeal. Then I sigh. Then I turn to the rude white mare that's suddenly next to me and say, "That really wasn't funny, Ms. Scratch." "Are you kidding? That was hilarious. I mean- You squealed! And what happened to Vinyl? Why am I now 'Ms. Scratch'? It makes me sound old." "Nothing happened." "And that looks like more than just strings in your bag. What'd you get? Huh- huh? Tell me! Tell me! Tell me!" "Just some Bethooven, Bach, and Chtrotski." "Oh, but that's booooring. Why don't you get some DeadHor5?" "Dead horse? What?" What is this crazy mare talking about? "Bah, never mind!" ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "So, 'Tavi, what're you up to tonight, 'cause I'm bored off my flank." "Well... Wait, WHAT? Did you just bastardize my name?" "No, your name just has too many syllables for me, I mean Oc-tav-i-a [ok-tey-vee-uh], four syllables, 'Tavi [tah-vee], one. You can't have more than three if you expect to keep your name." "What? "You never answered my question: what're you going to do tonight?" "Well, I was just going to have a drink, listen to music, and then go to bed. Why?" "Can I join you for the drinking part, and maybe the bed part too, depending on how I feel?" "WHAT?" "Relax, I was joking about the bed. So can I?" "I don't know, can you?" Ha. "Yes! Yes I can." Should've seen it coming. *Smack* "Eh, you alright there 'Tavi?" "No, my hoof just got the sudden urge to bury itself in my forehead." "Okay. So where's the booze?" "I don't keep any 'booze', I only keep classy alcohol. And it's in the bottom cabinet to your left." "Cool!" I go into the next room, leaving her in the kitchen. With my cello set down in it's proper place, I return to the kitchen. "You call this classy?" she says, holding an almost toxic green bottle I'd hoped to never see again. Pan-Equestrian Gargle Blasters. ************************************************************************************** A/N Hey, so I'm going to start leaving my authors notes in the text separated like ^so^, so that for readers like me, who download their fan-fic as html documents can read it. As always (now) wield your thumbs in a threatening manor. Or just leave a comment. Oh, and for the topic of update frequency, until I get writers block, school starts, or the story ends, whichever comes first, it will probably update once every twenty-four hours or so at around 1am PST.