//------------------------------// // Chapter 34 // Story: The Adventures of Trixie if Her Father Was a Badass Alien // by totallynotabrony //------------------------------// The jazzing went off without a hitch. Trixie was not exactly sure if “jazzing” was a word, but it seemed fitting for playing jazz music. There was enthusiastic applause when she, Fluttershy, and Iron Will finished playing in their impromptu band. One of the Cult of Jazz members approached them afterwards. “You’ve more than earned your freedom, but do you think you could stay a while and do another show? We’d all love to hear it.” Trixie still did not like the connotation that they were being held against their will, whether that was just a joke or not. Still, there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with a little more jazzing, and her two cohorts agreed. So they jazzed for a while longer. The Cult even bought them complementary dinners and a supply of drinks to show their appreciation. Even if the Cult of Jazz seemed to be so benign to be basically a cult in name only, Trixie did wonder what was with all the cults popping up recently. Somepony should do an inquisition or something. After finishing another set, Fluttershy claimed that her voice was getting tired. Iron Will was more blue in the face than usual from blowing his trumpet. “Iron Will’s hotel room came with two beds for some reason,” he said, shrugging. “You two could have a place to stay tonight if you were willing the share a bed.” “Sounds good.” Trixie nodded. Fluttershy agreed as well. “I’m okay with sharing a bed with you, Trixie. You surely aren’t as touchy-feely as Pinkie.” Another cultist approached just then. “I know you three have already made some beautiful music here tonight, but I thought I would ask if you could stay a bit longer. You’re having fun, right?” Trixie was getting a little tired, and she could see her friends were feeling the same. However, the jazz pony had asked so nicely and jazzing was rather enjoyable. The three of them agreed to keep playing. More time passed. Trixie’s drumming was getting a little erratic after playing three shows in a row. Iron Will was now only blowing faint, halfhearted notes on his instrument. Fluttershy was hoarse, sounding almost like she’d picked up a debilitating illness. It was now late at night. Trixie was ready to go, and the three of them were heading for the door when they were stopped again by a prospective jazzer. “Hey there, I know it’s not my place to ask any more of you, but by chance could you do another show? You sounded excellent. Please?” “Oh, I…um, okay,” Fluttershy managed to communicate. She paused and coughed painfully. “If you want,” Iron Will murmured listlessly. “No, screw this,” Trixie declared. Everypony, her bandmates, the jazzy cultists, and the rest of the performers and audience members suddenly went completely silent, staring at Trixie. She looked around, realizing the amount of attention focused in her direction. Like any true showmare, however, that was just fine with her. Trixie hopped up on the stage and grabbed the microphone. “My dad once said to me, ‘never trust a cult.’ While the Cult of Jazz is one of the nicest cults I’ve encountered, that doesn’t make them harmless.” She looked at the nearest, jazziest pony and said, “You give us the illusion of freedom, but that was never your intention, was it? You were just going to keep us here for as long as possible? Maybe until we died or assimilated?” Jazzy gave her an unpleasant look. “Most don’t catch on so quickly, if at all.” “Yeah, well thank my dad for that. I might run into a lot of cults on my own, but he’s the one who taught me how to deal with them.” Trixie dropped the mic and got off the stage, heading for the door. “Come on Fluttershy, Iron Will.” A group of cultist jazzers, jazzy cultists, and jazzists blocked their way. “Oh no, you see it won’t be so simple. We challenge you to a battle of the bands!” “Um, maybe we should. It’s less violent than fighting,” whispered Fluttershy as well as she was able. “And they are challenging us,” Iron Will pointed out. “It would be impolite to refuse.” “Buck that,” Trixie growled as the jazzy ponies launched into a set of their own, their tightly spaced band blocking the door. Even as the jazz flew fast and thick, she started to charge her magic. If they wouldn’t make a hole to let Trixie and her friends out, she was going to create one. A very jazzy hole. Even in the short time it took to ready her spell, the jazz was well and truly piled up thickly by the time Trixie was ready. She used a basic force spell to throw the jazzers aside and clear a path to the door. That didn’t stop them, however, and the music continued as Trixie ushered Fluttershy and Iron Will forward. And that’s when the real jazzing started. A saxophone player on a hot solo jumped out, standing with his back to the door. Between the sax and the jazzing, he was probably confident that nopony would interrupt such a performance. Deprived of a chance to kill cultists the last time around, and by this point completely pissed, Trixie picked up a drumstick from where she had left it on the stage and flung it like a rocket towards the saxy jazzist. Violently going through his instrument, his body, and the doors behind him, the kinetic force blew the doorway and parts of the wall out, the power nearly ripping the unfortunate musician apart, rendering one final toot on his horn. With the doors destroyed, jazz went everywhere. Trixie, Fluttershy, and Iron Will surfed a wave of it out into the street, making it to the next block before losing sight and sound of so much jazzing. Trixie wondered who was going to clean it all up.