“I’m in too deep. I’m in way over my head.” The dark blue pony gazed out over the massive crowd from behind the stage. He was hyperventilating. His knees shook as his wings rapidly twitched in and out. “This is way too much. I can’t… th-there’s no way…” He began backing toward the exit. “I’ve gotta go.”
“Where in Tartarus do you think you’re going?” He turned around and his golden eyes found a lanky, hawk headed griffon glaring at him with a pair of piercing blue eyes.
“I can’t do this Hawk. There’re way too many ponies out there. There’s no way I can…” The griffon grabbed him, a talon directly under each ear.
“Zepplin, look at my eyes, and calm. The buck. Down. We went through this same thing at Hoofstock, and remember? That show launched your career. There is nothing to be worried about. You know the music, the band is ready, I triple checked all the equipment personally, and there’s a small army of roadies standing by in case something goes wrong.” Zepplin pulled away from his grip and started pacing back and forth.
“What if something does go wrong? What then? This is the biggest group we’ve ever played for. There are thousands of ponies out there!”
Hawk placed a claw on Zepplin’s back, halting him. “You’re right. Thousands of ponies are sitting out there. Do you know who they are? Those ponies are your fans, each and every one of them. There are thousands of ponies who love you and traveled all the way to Cloudsdale to hear you perform.
“How does that make it any better!?”
“Because they don’t care if you mess up. All they want is for you to show up.” Zepplin’s wings stopped shaking and he looked down at his hooves. “Come on bro. The Cloud Dome is packed, the show is starting, and it’s time for you to go on. Get out there and shred.” The two hoof-bumped and Zepplin turned around to face the stage. He took a deep breath, ran a hoof through his long, unkempt, black mane, and rushed onstage to meet the roaring of his fans.
“Hello my Zepplinites! Are you all ready for an awesome concert?” He paused to listen to the uproar of screaming fans. “That’s what I like to hear! Before we begin, I’d like to give a special shout out to all of you who’ve been following us throughout the whole tour.” As he talked his horn was wrapped in a golden glow. The band behind him readied their instruments and as a guitar of pure light formed in front of him. It’s been a crazy couple of weeks. But for those of you who’ve been living under rocks. We are Maretallica, and we are about to prove… That you can still ROCK IN EQUESTRIA!”
The room was filled with ear pounding music as the stage was covered in brilliant light. The light was drawn toward Zepplin as he and his band mates rocked and the volume continued to grow. His horn gleamed brighter as the music grew louder and the crowd worked themselves into a frenzy. Mares were screaming, stallions were pounding their heads, and the music raged on long into the night.
As the concert carried on small cracks began to appear in the cloud dome above them. With each song they grew longer, wider, and more numerous. They scaled down the walls as the structure weekend and began to crawl along the floor. At the apex of their grand finally Zepplin began to play his solo. His horn’s glow became a blinding beacon as the sound was pushed to new volumes. The building began to rumble. The cloud making it up began to break away and dissipate. The crowd’s cheering turned to screams as those without wings evacuated to safer ground. Still, Zepplin played on. His music traveled upward into the heavens until finally the song ended, and he collapsed.
- - -
Zepplin’s head was pounding. He was lying on a hard surface and his head hurt like Tartarus. He opened his eyes to find himself staring at a white tiled ceiling. He smelled ammonia and heard a faint beeping from a distance away. “Hospital” he mumbled to himself. Turning his head he saw Hawk pacing back and forth muttering, his wings tucked tight against his body. After watching him for a moment Zepplin decided to speak up. “I knocked myself out again didn’t I?”
The griffon stopped in his tracks and jerked his head toward Zepplin.
“I’ll take that as a yes. So, did my ears bleed this time?”
Hawk tentatively approached the bedside. “It’s a little worse this time.”
“Was I bleeding out my eyes to? I must have been playing pretty loud to…”
“The Cloud Dome is gone.” Zepplin shut his mouth and stared at his friend in silence. “There’s nothing left of it. No one was hurt, but the media is in a frenzy.” The griffon left the bedside and began pacing once more. “They’re out there right now demanding an interview. The band is demanding a massive pay increase for dangerous work charges. You’re in the hospital again and I have to clear all of this up and start planning the next tour! Dang it! Okay, first thing’s first. We need to get you in front of those reporters as soon as you’re feeling well. You’re probably going to have to make some sort of apology as well as…”
“Hawk!” The griffon clamped his beak shut and halted in his tracks. “You’ve been my manager for as long as I’ve been in this business. You’ve been my best friend for even longer. The stress is almost killing you and it is killing me. I’m starting to get tired. Don’t bother planning the next tour. Just deal with the band and I’ll handle the rest.”
“We still need to have that press conference.”
“I’ll deal with it. I think I know exactly what I have to say.”
- - -
Zepplin stood in front of the audience. He was sure he’d been more nervous, but he couldn’t really remember when. His first concert? Hoofstock? Not even the Cloud Dome prepared him for what was about to happen. He looked out over the crowd and began. “Hello every pony. There was a terrible accident at my last concert. Thankfully no pony was hurt. I’d like to begin by stating that this occurrence has nothing to do with what I am about to say. My Zepplinites, you are all the most incredible friends. You’ve stuck with me and it’s your cheers that drive me onward. However this tour is going to be my last. I may return someday, but for the moment it doesn’t seem likely. I know that it hurts. You are all the most amazing friends, but this is the end.” Reporters clamored toward the stage as Zepplin walked off, his head held low.
- - -
“I’m pretty sure that was the hardest thing that I’ve ever done.” Zepplin was sitting on a large black chair in his hotel suite, holding his head in his hoof. Hawk was reclining across from him on a long red sofa. “I guess we’re gonna have to find some way to tell the band. Not to mention figure out a place to settle down. Damn, I really didn’t think this through.”
“That’s already taken care of.” Zepplin looked over at him.
“What do you mean?”
Hawk stretched out and then sat up on his haunches. “I took care of it. The band has been paid off and sent off to new employers with dazzling recommendations. I sold the equipment to a buyer I lined up for top dollar. The collapse was blamed on a sudden ‘air quake’ and I even lined up a residence for you to stay at while you’re living the easy life.”
Zepplin stared at him with an incredulous look. “How the buck did you have time to set all that up?”
“I started arranging things at the beginning of the tour. You haven’t been yourself lately. The stress was making you freak out and I knew you were gonna have to take a break eventually, so I made preparations. The new house is the best part. I had all your stuff shipped out and it’ll be there by tomorrow morning. It’s in a real quiet area a little outside of the main population. I paid to have the place magically sound proofed so you can rock to your hearts content without disturbing the neighbors. No stress, just fun and music.” The griffon gave his friend a lopsided smirk. “And even better, you’ll be living with the world’s greatest roommate.”
“I’m living with Big Robert Ivy?”
“Ha ha, forget rock, you should be a comedian.”
“So where is this little shack of yours?”
“It’s in a little town called Ponyville.”