//------------------------------// // Minor Third // Story: Rhythm and Melody // by NerfedFalcon //------------------------------// Strobe was whistling to himself, a song about a cowpony on the run that he couldn't remember the lyrics to, as Vinyl pulled herself into consciousness. She yawned loudly, and he turned his head towards her. “G’mornin’,” he chirped. “Sorry I haven’t got any coffee ready yet. I’ll get on that before Blue Harvest returns home for the weekend.” He walked into the kitchen, though the open-plan apartment meant that it wasn’t really all that different, and he could still see Vinyl. The DJ seemed to be in pretty good shape, pulling herself together quickly. Then again, she never combed her hair (apparently she’d tried once—but only once), and on Saturdays she spent the whole day inside anyway. The coffee wasn’t even necessary given the circumstances, but it kept his mind off things. That was definitely the Octavia at the club last night, for one. If she was a changeling, he’d have known, but she wasn’t even just a free changeling in a steady disguise like he was. Why she’d have come to follow Vinyl, he couldn’t figure out, and it worried him. He felt like an older brother to the DJ, though he’d never admit it, and if something was going on around her, he wanted to know. Still, it seemed like Vinyl was just as confused as he was, so there was nothing for it but a cup of coffee and a day’s rest. He brought the two mugs and the pot of coffee out, pouring two mugs and downing his own in one go as usual. “Well, I’m off. Blue Harvest needs to close a deal today, and his beautiful marefriend shouldn’t be kept waiting.” He left the apartment locked, knowing that Vinyl could magically pick locks if anything happened that forced her to leave. Even if she was still exhausted, caffeine could easily be turned into mana if necessary. Unfortunately, the caffeine didn’t work on him that way. As a changeling, he needed love, and the kind that Vinyl gave him as a semi-sibling relationship wouldn’t cut it. Blue Harvest had been killed during the Royal Wedding incident, but the mare he was going out with at the time, Cross Stitch, never found his body. After about a month, Strobe had decided to step in, using the missing pony report to interpose himself in their relationship. He hadn’t quite gotten the personality right, and it seemed strange to the mare at first, but she was just so happy to have Bluey back that she still hadn’t figured it out. Since he wasn’t directing most of his feed to the Queen, he could just take a little bit of her love and manage on it without hurting her, either. The occupation he’d taken over was that of a cartographer, royally commissioned under Blueblood. Though he didn’t actually make many maps anymore, he was able to fit in well enough to meet the Prince a few times. He didn’t need that much money, since he lived with Vinyl and never ate food, so he was able to support Stitch with most of it. She appreciated the help, and that gave him even more love to feed on. He started whistling ‘Midnight Rider’ again as he walked, unaware of the Pegasus that was following him. Hemlock had been somewhat hard done by as a colt, mostly because his parents had heard the word somewhere without bothering to look up what it meant. With that disadvantage, he had to make a name for himself as young as possible, and he’d made it accidentally. While trying to burn ants with a magnifying glass one day, he’d found a scrap of cloth in the grass. There was a tag on it, and it led him back to a dressmaker. The mare who’d bought the dress had gone missing recently, and talking to her family had led him to her abusive coltfriend, who had been about to do... something to her. At the time, he hadn’t understood it entirely, but he got the attention of a passing Watch officer before anything bad happened to her. He’d earned a commendation from the Baltimare Watch for it, and his Cutie Mark. Nowadays, despite his odd name, Hemlock was known as one of the best private investigators in the business, and that had gotten him the attention of somepony with bits to burn and a grudge of some sort against a Canterlot musician. Getting the basics of DJ PON-3’s life had been easy enough; a few bits to the bouncer of the Onyx Pit had revealed her name as Vinyl Scratch. Tailing her from the back door had brought him to her apartment on Bay Street, which she shared with a Pegasus. He’d asked around a bit before sunrise, and learned that his name was Strobe Light, a technician who seemed pretty close to her. So far, this didn’t seem like anything in particular, but he was being paid to find out whatever he could. He’d staked out the apartment since half past nine, wondering who would come in or out. Strobe had come out at about noon, whistling a song of some sort. As much as he wanted to see if the DJ had any other visitors, he thought that if she worked under a pseudonym, it would be unlikely. Instead, he’d decided to follow Strobe. What a stallion like him was doing out at that time was a mystery, particularly if he’d left Vinyl alone. She’d seemed pretty out of it last night, having to be carried home. Why would Strobe just abandon her like that? The mark turned a corner into Courter’s Way, and Hemlock had to hurry to catch up. Suddenly, he was gone, invisible in the bustling crowd even to his trained eye. He started to push through ponies, not caring how visible he was becoming, when he suddenly heard a pony whistling. It was the same song, as far as he could tell, but coming from a different pony entirely. The new whistler was a blue Unicorn with a feather quill as a Cutie Mark. How two so different ponies could come to know the same song was a mystery to him, unless... He looked around again, but Strobe was definitely nowhere to be seen. It was entirely possible that Vinyl Scratch was living with a changeling, though whether she knew or not was hard to say. He’d have to keep an eye on Strobe and the blue Unicorn, though. If they really were the same changeling, that would make an interesting case for his benefactor to study. They continued down Courter’s Way into the Royal Surveyor’s Office, and that was where Hemlock had to stop. He didn’t have the clearance to get into the building and study the changeling any more. Sighing, he started heading back to the hotel room he was renting in Canterlot, to record his findings and get some coffee to keep himself going until night-time. DJ PON-3, real name Vinyl Scratch. Lives at 142 Bay Street, apartment number six. Lives with and is possibly quite close to Pegasus named Strobe Light. Possible changeling; whether Vinyl Scratch knows is unknown. Keep an eye out for a blue Unicorn who works for the Surveyor’s, as he may be an alter ego of the same changeling. He’d written the note on the way back to the hotel, planning to leave it at the front desk for his anonymous benefactor. As he looked around the lobby, he saw somepony he hadn’t been expecting there. “I like your scarf,” Octavia called out. “Where did you get it? I simply must get one of my own.” Hemlock didn’t know how to reply for a while. He’d gotten it for his cute-ceañera, and honestly didn’t know if the shop was still in business, it had been so long. He suddenly felt self-conscious, not wanting to talk to the cellist. “Say, didn’t I see you at the Onyx Pit last night?” He suddenly froze up before sprinting up the stairs to his room. On the back of the note, just before he fell into bed, he’d written: Octavia knows too much. Back in the lobby, Octavia was thinking about what she’d seen. The Pegasus with the scarf and the magnifying glass Cutie Mark had definitely been at the club last night. From where he’d gone, he was also staying at the hotel, like her. Until the month of the concert ended, she was supposed to stay in the hotel, rather than at her own Canterlot residence. If she met Vinyl Scratch again, it’d be difficult to convince her to come back to a hotel room, even one as high-class as the Evening Star. But she couldn’t be seen staying at her own home, or she’d break the contract she’d signed. Maybe she should have read it more, but there was no going back now. She was no stranger to suffering for her art. Slowly, she returned to her own room, still thinking about the stallion from before. She definitely knew him from somewhere before the Pit last night, but it escaped her. Well, surely they’d meet again, if they were staying in the same hotel. Things had a habit of working out that way in long-term stays in hotels, in her experience. She’d asked around a bit as well, and apparently DJ PON-3 was open for commissions on Sundays. Did she do it for the art, or to make ends meet? There was no way to tell, unless she could talk to the mare a little bit more. She had no idea where to start, though. How did one commission DJ PON-3, especially at such short notice? It must have been on one of the posters... As much as she didn’t want to be caught out in public by some paparazzo or another, she’d have to go searching for one. ~ That evening, when Strobe returned home, Vinyl noticed that he still looked like Blue Harvest. “Oh, sorry,” he laughed when she pointed it out, quickly returning to his ‘normal’ form. “I don’t usually mess up like that. Still, I don’t think anyone saw me come in like that, so we should be fine. If they did, they’ll probably just assume you finally got a gentlecolt caller.” Vinyl laughed out loud at the statement. “Me, with a gentlecolt caller? Everypony here knows that I’m a wallflower.” She shook her head slowly, then sobered up. “Seriously, though, you should probably go back to being the Unicorn. Don’t want anypony getting too suspicious.” Strobe nodded and turned back into Blue Harvest. “Oh, yeah, and you’ve been commissioned this Sunday,” he added as he pulled out a letter from somewhere and gave it to her. “Pretty short notice, though. You gonna skip?” Vinyl didn’t respond right away, looking at the note itself. “Equipment provided... and they’re promising to pay pretty well. Besides, I have a reputation to uphold. If somepony wants to hear me play, if they can pay, then I play. That’s the rule.” “Try saying that five times fast,” Strobe muttered under his breath. “What was that?” “Nothing, just a joke. So you’re going, then? What’s the venue?” “Says here it’s a public park, and that I’ll know who’s commissioning me when I see them. I don’t know how they’ll bring their own equipment there, but...” “Maybe someone wants to spice up a picnic and shelled out for you.” “Maybe... but I get the feeling... This seems so strange, but...” Vinyl shook her head slowly. “No, I can handle myself. I’ll go. And don’t get any ideas about trying to follow me; I don’t need your help.” “Wouldn’t dream of it,” Strobe said out loud. Thanks for the idea, he thought. This whole thing just seems suspicious to me...