After band practice, Lyrica sat around. She squirmed. She tried not to look at the tack holes on her wall. She was pleased with the band's performance of that day, and felt that they were doing well, but she was less than pleased with her social life.
I need a life outside this band. I will simply have to work very hard to meet somepony at Berry Punch's party this weekend. That party was her last hope for social interaction, and she was certain that she couldn't let the opportunity escape her. She fixed her mane. She fixed it again. She put makeup on, and then she washed it off. She wanted to bang her head against the wall, and stare at the tack holes, stare at the trash can, pull out Vinyl's photo and call her up... No. Banging my head against the wall would ruin my manestyle. Lyrica only sat in her armchair and did nothing. She twitched a few times. She rubbed her eyes. She considered retiling her bathroom, then gave up the idea. Then she broke. Then she pulled the photo out of the trash, picked up the phone, and dialed Vinyl Scratch's number (sans head banging).
"Hello, is Vinyl Scratch here?" said Lyrica. Her forehooves were shaking, and she was pushing her ottoman back and forth with her hind legs.
"You've reached the secretary of DJ-PON-3, you must have the wrong number," said the secretary. Lyrica gritted her teeth, and spoke again.
"I haven't got the wrong number," she said, slumping into her chair. This was more difficult than she had expected.
"Well, you should leave a message, and Ms. PON-3 will hear it if she likes," the secretary said. Lyrica sighed.
"All right, start recording," she said, "Vinyl, this is Lyrica Lilac. I wanted to talk, it's been a long time. I still think about you." There was a muffled beep.
"I recorded your message, although I still don't know who Vinyl Scratch is and how you hope to contact her. Goodb—," the secretary said, the abrupt end of the call cutting off her farewell. Lyrica sighed again.
"That was absolutely pointless," she said. She looked at the clock on her wall, trying to pass the time until the show they were playing. "The one we took from LolliPOP—no, we didn't take a thing. Earned it fair and square instead," she said to herself. She slipped into her costume, a long white dress with purple and yellow trim. She added the accessories that she had purchased for the Gala, now given new life. Lyrica put her hoof to her chest, inhaling and exhaling.
I will not ever lose again. Nopony shall ever beat me again. I may suffer setbacks, but with the outcome all the same. I shall never lose again. She grabbed the Vinyl Scratch photo off her counter, and got a black marker. Over the pretty mare's face, lined by crumpling, she wrote her mantra. Lyrica laughed, a long, raucous laugh of the type that scared passerby.
"NEVER AGAIN! I AM THE GREATEST!" she yelled. She ran into her living room and sunk onto her couch, exhilarated and giggling like a schoolfilly. Lyrica smiled, and began making herself a luncheon of noodles with butter. She threw in some shriveled looking mushrooms, and then tried to balance them out with some fresh green broccoli. Once it was finished, she poured the whole mess through a strainer, and dumped the pasta into a bowl.
Lyrica was well-pleased with the results, although the mushrooms tasted like bad breath. She ended up picking most of them out. She went into her bathroom afterwards and brushed her teeth to get the smell out. She picked up a brush and fixed her mane again, styling it into her usual beehive and spritzing it occasionally with dry shampoo. Then Lyrica sat back on her couch, her worries momentarily stymied. She was perfectly prepared and ready to leave when Fiddlesticks came and knocked at her door.
"Time to go," she said, and led Lyrica outside. Lyrica was taken aback by what she saw, namely a carriage parked on the edge of her sidewalk. It was freshly painted, and it had the logo of their band stenciled on the front.
"Where in Equestria did this come from?" said Lyrica. Midnight Strike pointed a hoof at herself.
"I, uh... bought it. It's an old taxi. Noteworthy repainted it," she said. She fluttered into the traces, preparing to pull the group to their show.
"Are you sure you want to pull it?" said Lyrica, "You wouldn't want to ruin your dress." Midnight tossed her head.
"You wanna pull it?" she said. Lyrica didn't respond, deciding that getting into the carriage would be answer enough. Midnight Strike whinnied, jerked forward, and they were off. They arrived at the show to little fanfare, and the audience only responded politely to their musical stylings. Each member was doing their level best, but the audience was simply bored by their song. Backstage, the group reconvened, and Noteworthy went straight to the point.
"Honestly, I don't think they liked it," he said. Everypony gave a murmur of assent, save for Lyrica, who spoke her own piece instead.
"It's obvious what must be done," she said. Midnight Strike cocked her head.
"Update our music and move to a more popular genre, or..." she said. Lyrica continued Midnight's broken sentence.
"Eliminate the competition," she said. Fiddlesticks beamed, but Midnight looked a bit awkward.
"I was gonna say the other thing," she said. Noteworthy snickered.
"Well, I for one approve our move from talent to violence," he said. Lyrica restrained herself, and let him off with a hard look. They filed back into the carriage, and opened discussion on where they would strike next.