“So, what’s your name?” Mixtape said, walking next to the rapper. Mixtape had never seen a creature like him before, and now that she knows he is a human, as he last said, the least she can hope for was finding out his name.
“Tupac Amuru Shakur, But you can just call me Tupac.” The bandana wearing human said. While they were walking, all Tupac could think about was what in the hell happened. He remembers the hospital room, seeing his fans standing outside the hospital, and his own lifeless body trying to be revived. Then he remembered walking towards a bright light, then the next thing he knew, he woke up in an alley by a dumpster, and punched a small talking pony in the face. Speaking of a punch the the face, he looked down for a quick second at the pony and noticed a small bruise he left on its chin.
‘Damn, that pony can take a punch.’ Tupac thought to himself. ‘Maybe punching it in the face was a bad move on me.’
As he walked down the sidewalk with Mixtape, he began to feel bad for ever punching the small pony in the face. He looked down at the pony, hesitation to talk.
“Look, Mixtape right? I’m sorry that I punched you in the face. I’m just a little confused right now.” 2pac was looking around the city as he said that. Everything about this place reminded him of Las Vegas, what with all the bright, colorful lights, the loud music bangin’ in the nearby clubs he and Mixtape would occasionally walk by, and much more. “I thought heaven would be more, heavenly. Like, with all them angels flyin’ around and shit.”
Mixtape looked up at Tupac with a cool expression. “It’s fine, big guy. A mare can take a couple hits, you know? I’ve been through tougher stuff.”
“Mare? As in a girl?” Tupac said with a confused expression. Mixtape nodded, and as she did that 2pac felt mad guilt. “I punched a chick in the face. What the hell...”
“Hey, cheer up. I told you I’ve been through worse.” Mixtape said as she tried to get Tupac’s mindset back on track. “So, what’s this heaven you keep talking about? Is it a nice place?”
“You kiddin’ me? Ya’ll don’t know what heaven is?” Tupac said with such confusion, he didn’t notice the amount of ponies staring at him in shock. Then again, Tupac himself doesn’t know what heaven is, because he’s damn sure heaven wouldn’t look like Vegas. “You know what, don’t worry about it. All you need to know is that I was supposed to be judged up there, but ended up in some little girls dream version of Las Vegas.”
“Las Vegas? Tupac, I think you mean Las “Pegasus”.” Mixtape corrected the rapper, but that only caused more problems.
“The fuck you mean Las “Pegasus”? Ain’t this Vegas?” He said as he yet again looked at all the bright lights. Though, doubts started to fill his mind. Last time he checked, there were hookers standing at the corners, but all he sees are pony crossgards.
“Does this Vegas have a place where you waste all your currency and lose everything?” Mixtape said as they made a right turn down a neighborhood. “Like a casino?”
Tupac nodded. “Yea?”
“Well then, welcome to Las Pegasus.”
Tupac was now even more confused, but he kept a calm expression. However, there is no way in hell that this is Heaven. This place resembled Vegas too much to be the holy place. But, he had to make sure.
“By any chance,” He said, stopping in his tracks. Mixtape stopped as well, a bit annoyed since it’s raining and all. “Does this place have a nickname?”
“Well yea, of course it does.” Mixtape said as she began walking again. “Why do you ask?”
“I just need to know, ight? Is this placed nicknamed...Sin City?” The bald rapper said as he began his pace back up to Mixtaped speed.
“Yea. How’d you know?” Mixtape said as she looked up at the shirtless human.
Tupac shook his head disapprovingly, sighing. “Damn. I knew this wasn’t Heaven.”
“There goes that word again.” Mixtape said as she looked at 2pac. “Why do you want to go there so badly?”
“I don’t. I mean, I didn’t. I died, and I was suppose to be judged there.” He said as twisted his shirt, releasing all the soaked up water. He decided to put the shirt back on. Even though it was cold, he didn’t want anybody asking about his tatoos. The place was too innocent to know what they meant.
“Really? You don’t look dead, you look alive to me.” Mixtape said, chuckling. “Well, we’re close to my place. But, I don’t think I have what you're wearing. What are you wearing, by the way?”
“A shirt, pants, and shoes. They keep me warm, since I don’t have no fur.” 2pac left out his undergarments, because ain’t nobody want to know what underwear a guy’s wearing. “On a real note, you really gonna let me in yo house? Won’t anybody-”
“Pony-”
“Whateva, worry about you? Cause I know my block would be suspicious if they saw some guy they didn’t know walk into a resident's house.”
Mixtape let loose a chuckle, which caused a questioning look from Tupac. “What’s so funny?”
“You needn’t worry about it, Tupac. The ponies that live on my block will be cool with it. Besides, it’s night time, now come on.”
Tupac stopped for a second and stared at the mare walking away. He couldn't believe it. A talking pony is taking him home, and allowing him to stay there after punching her in the face. He knew he had to make it up to here one day, he’ll make sure of that.
He caught up to the purple pony and patted her head. “Yo Mixtape?”
“Yea, Tupac?”
“You real, you know?” Tupac smiled at the pony, but it was now Mixtapes turn to be confused.
“That’s a compliment, right?”
“Yea.”
“Oh. Well, you real too, Tupac.” She said, smiling. “Ight, well let’s go. inside, we’re already here.”
Tupac looked up at the two-flat apartment building they’d stopped at. It was a moderate looking building, something suitable for a middle income family.
“It’s not the prettiest thing on the block, but its home,” Mixtape said with a large toothy grin as she made her way up the stairs followed slowly by Tupac.
Stopping at the door her horn became shrouded in a thin veil of silver light as did the door knob.
Tupac watched in confusion as the door lock made a few clinks before the door itself flung open.
“And what the hell was that?” Tupac asked while taking a step back from Mixtape and staring at her cautiously.
Mixtape raised an eyebrow, “What was what?” she returned innocently.
Tupac shook his head in disbelief. “The glowing horn, opening the door and not even touching it, that’s what.”
Mixtape chuckled. “Jeez, you act like you’ve never seen magic before, it’s really nothing special.”
Tupac didn’t respond but simply stared at Mixtape, then back at the open door.
“I don’t believe it, you haven’t, but how?” Mixtape asked her mouth slightly hanging agape. “Magic is everywhere; you’d have to have been living under a rock to never have seen it.”
“I’ve seen magic tricks, people wit cards trying to pull shit, nothing like that,” Tupac reasoned as he slowly stepped towards Mixtape and placed his hand on her horn.
Mixtape giggled. “What are you trying to do?”
“To see if I could feel it,” Tupac answered bluntly.
“If you want to know what magic feels like then let’s try this,” Mixtape suggested as her horn yet again became shrouded in the same silvery light. “Since we’re out of the rain, I can try this spell,” she finished as Tupac himself became encased in a shroud of the same silvery magic as Mixtape’s horn.
“Hold on ah minute,” Tupac argued as he tried to use his hands to physically pull off the silvery veil around him
“Calm down you big baby,” Mixtape said as she stuck out her tongue in concentration. “I need to focus or I might burn you.”
Tupac stopped his struggling as he felt a warm sensation surround his body before it was replaced by an unpleasant amount of heat that lasted for a brief moment.
Mixtape let out a sigh as her horn lost its shimmer and the veil around Tupac disappeared.
“What did you…?” Tupac paused as he took notice of how warm his clothes now were. Taking a moment to feel himself up, he was surprised to find that his clothes were as dry as if they had just come out of the dryer.
“There, can’t have you trailing rainwater into my house can I?” Mixtape said with a satisfied grin.
‘Just what is this place?’ Tupac thought to himself. ‘Friendly as all hell, talkin horses wit magic, I need a drink.’
“Hey big guy are you coming inside or do you like my porch that much?” Mixtape teased from her position in the doorway.
Tupac shook his head to bring himself from his momentary stupor. “Chill I’m comin,” he said as he walked in after Mixtape.
Mixtape hit a light switch after they’d entered, illuminating her modest sized living room. “Make yourself at home, while I’ll go put on some hot coco, or would you rather have coffee?”
“Why are you doing this?” Tupac asked as he struggled to makes sense of the kindness or naivety of the pony that seemed bent on helping him.
Mixtape tilted her head in confusion. “Doing what?”
“All of this,” Tupac answered. “In my hood you don’t just pull a nigga off the street and invite him into your home and offer him coffee. That’s the attitude of a child.”
Mixtape frowned. “Since when was helping somepony considered childish?”
“It’s childish cause you ain’t even thinkin about the consequences of letting some random in your crib,” Tupac explained. “What if I wasn’t right in the head and wanted to be beat you, or kill you or some shit?”
Mixtape placed a hoof under her chin as though she were thinking hard about the matter. “Are you going to do any of that?”
“No” Tupac answered dryly.
Mixtape smiled, “Then that’s good enough for me.”
Tupac sighed “No you don’t get it…”
“No I do get it,” Mixtape cut Tupac off. “You think I should be cautious and that’s fair to say, but in that alley I saw it in your eyes”
“Saw what?”
“The fear, confusion but most importantly the lack of malice,” Mixtape explained. “We ponies can be very perceptive to the feelings of those around us. It was easy enough for me to tell, you have no real desire to hurt me. Besides I suppose helping those in need is just a part of how I was raised. Now like I asked before, coco or coffee?”
Tupac rubbed his temples. “Coffee then,” he answered while walking over to a nearby couch and crashing down on to it. Surprisingly enough the couch was more than big enough to accommodate from Tupac’s entire frame.
“And my mother said buying a couch that big was a waste of money,” Mixtape commented before turning on her hooves and exiting the living room.
Tupac watched her go from the corner of his eye before he allowed his mind to once again wonder. ‘So what’ next?’ He thought. “Do I try to pick up the pieces, start fresh? Can I even make it in this place?” Tupac mused as something caught his attention.
Sitting in the corner of Mixtapes living room was a very old but still functioning looking turntable. Tupac quirked a brow at the antique. ‘Her name is Mixtape,’ he mused as he stood up and walked over towards it.
Looking at the side of it, he found a large amount of vinyl’s nestled between the sides of the turntable. Grabbing one of the vinyl’s he looked at the cover. A random pony, nothing he could really make heads or tails of. Shrugging he pulled the vinyl out of its case and slipped it onto the player.
Meanwhile Mixtape whistled a merry tune as she prepared herself some hot coco and by request coffee for Tupac. She soon noticed her ears were turning towards her living room where the sound of music was now resonating from. She recognized the beat easy enough but the lyrics were foreign; in fact she was sure they weren’t apart of the song at all, considering it was only an instrumental.
Letting her curiosity get the better of her she turned off her burner and trotted out of the kitchen.
“Raised as a youth, tell the truth I got the scoop on how to get a bulletproof, because I jumped from the roof before I was a teenager, mobile phone, sky pager game rules, I'm livin major…”
“Tupac!” Mixtape squealed.
Tupac looked up from the turntable and towards Mixtape.
“What you were doing just now, what was that, I’ve never heard anything like it,” Mixtape questioned, eagerness clear on her face.
“We call that hip hop,” he answered with a smirk.
“Hip-hop?” Mixtape repeated the word. “I want to hear more of this, can you sing more for me?”
“Yeah I could do that,” Tupac said as he nodded. ‘Maybe I’ve still got a purpose after all.’ He mused.