“What are we going to do, Vinyl?”
“Okay dude, I get that you’re stunned about all of this, but you gotta stop asking me that.” Vinyl flatly says to me as we wheel her gear onto the stage.
“Well, why haven’t you given me an answer to it yet?”
This keeps her quiet as she plugs some wires into her machine. I can see them both. Hater D and her DJ and Grandmaster Flint are both over on the other side of the stage, also setting up for the final. They are giggling. They are smiling.
They are the enemy.
… Holy shit, Grandmaster Flint blinged out his equipment too. It looks like the restaurant that holds Printed Mint’s ashes got melted down and molded into a turntable and a bunch of amps! I hope to Celestia we aren’t judged on presentation.
“Okay. Game plan.” Vinyl finally says. “If you win the coin flip, say that we’ll go first. That way, we can reveal who you are before they even have the chance to spoil it and deflect any attacks she’ll say about you and I.”
“And if they win and we have to go second?”
She shrugs. “It’s up to whatever they pull first.”
…
“We better win this fucking coin flip, then.”
“Yeah, that’ll help a lot.” She giggles, finishing up her plugging in and quickly hits a sound effect. She nods to some back hand. She’s ready to go.
“Okay folks,” I hear some backstage hoof say. “Doors to the theatre will be open in three… two...one.”
And his word made it so. That or whoever’s in charge of opening the doors.
I can hear the audience starts coming in to take their seat. You know, I’m kind of surprised I don’t feel any butterflies in my stomach. This is my first ever time on stage, after all. I mean, shouldn’t I feel the least bi… Oh wait, my teeth has started to chatter. This must be it. Yep, I’m having the urge to put myself into a fetal position. Stage fright has arrived. Mayday, mayday: Stage fright has arrived.
I turn to my DJ with my eyes open wide. “Help, I’m nervous.” Is what I think I would say if my mouth was working correctly. All that came out was unintelligible whimpers.
“Uh oh. I was worried that this’ll happen.” Vinyl sighs. “This is your first time ever on a stage, isn’t it?”
I nod frantically. Probably too frantically. Crap, I just realised our opponents might be seeing me like this. I jump over my DJ’s turntable to cower behind it.
“That bad, huh?” I hear from her. “Look, I never really had it before so I can’t help... Wait, you must have talked to actors during your Canterlot Horn days, right? Some musicians, maybe? Did they have any advice on stage fright?”
Uh… I never really had a talk to any actors. It’s rare that I do talk to any artists at all back then, if that wasn’t already clear. Printed Mint was always a little paranoid about me saying something offensive to somepony who has the money and ability to sue the magazine. Satchel Mouth had to sign so much shit to get to me for our interview he was massaging his hoof al the way through it.
However… Something that the orphanage did back in the day was have an annual play written and directed by somepony from Moscolt. He wasn’t there very long because it turns out his VESA was suspicious but his plays bought in a lot of potential adoptees so all of us wanted to be in whatever he was doing... including...
“Please, Mister Check-off?”
“Sorry Woundsalt, but niet. Brainstorm’s orders. You in play is... forbidden.”
“But… but you said you needed a seagull, right? I can be a good seagull.”
“Dah, I know. But it’s for sake of orphanage. You have… eh… ‘moment’ in front of audience... ”
“But it’s not even a speaking role! I… I want somepony to see me and… It’s not fair. I want somepony to notice me… maybe they’ll...”
“... I so sorry, Woundsalt. Your are right. Is unfair, but my hooves? They are tied… You write, dah? Is what quill means on cutie-mark?”
“Uh… kinda?”
“Ever thought of writing poem?”
…
“Write poem, Woundsalt. Write poem of birds. Write poem of many birds. I put bird poem in lobby. Ponies see poem, they ask who wrote poem, I point them to you.”
“Why… why birds? I thought this play’s only got one seagull.”
“Dah. Is thing I tell actors if they feel unsure on things. I tell them to focus on something. To stop being scared on stage.”,
“You mean, I must focus on birds so I don’t overthink what I’m doing?”
“Dah! Can you do that, Woundsalt? Can you write poem of birds?”
…
“Dah, Mister Check-off.”
… My goddess, so I did have a mentor back then. How did I not…? Gah! Niet, Woundsalt! Now is not the time to ponder on the past! Now is the time to do what he has taught you! Let’s see… something to focus on. Something to make sure I don’t overthink what I’m doing.
…
Heh. Yeah… She’ll do nicely. Mister Check-off, I’m going to focus on birds like you told me to… or on one bird to be precise. My eyes will be right on the birdie. I stand up from the turntable and walk to the front of it, looking at my rapping opponent. I will leave Grandmaster Flint to Vinyl Scratch. Hater D, your lion-like ass is mine.
“You good now?” I hear my partner ask.
I nod, as I put on my hood. I’m ready to rip some new holes.
“Okay, folks!” Says the lead back-hoof. “Curtains up in three… two…
...one!”
And so it does, slowly followed by a cheer of hundreds. The lights make it hard to count how many, exactly, but it’s not like I’m counting. My focus is still on my enemy.
“Hellooooooooooooooo Everypony!” Yells the coat concealing Mackerel Shore “Welcome to the Grand Finale of the PegExpress™ Rap-Beat Battle Tournament! Sponsored by PegExpress™, Buck-Star™ Cafe and Redbull™! Don’t be the last unicorn, or any other type of pony for that matter, to try some Redbull™!”
Another applause. Blech, Redbull™. Truly horrendous. I know it’s a little rich for the alcoholic to scrutinise something that is terrible for the equine body, but I wish to gather that shit can by can and throw it into the ocean.
“... and Now, to introduce the opponents!” Mackerel shouts through the microphone after some other words which I phased out because I was too busy hating the taste of the sponsored beverage. I should probably go back to focusing on Hater D. “Hailing from Griffonstone and the Puddingshire Mines respectively… She’s a beast and he brings the beats… Hater D and Grandmaster Flint!”
He points to the two, making the two put their talons and paws in the air, resulting to some cheers. Could be greater, but since rumour has it they beaten the crap out of their opponent… that might not make you the favourite.
“And their opponent...” Shore continued as the crowd dies down a little. “Not gonna lie to you folks, we got a first tonight. As many of you may have heard the Detrot-Made Hand Grenade, Slimshake, has had an accident and is as we speak in the hospital. I think I can say for everyone here that our hearts goes out to him. That being said, I am proud to announce that his DJ is here tonight and refuses to forfeit and has found a substitute for her fallen comrade! Please welcome, one Manehattan Musicmaker and one brave mother-bucker from West Canterlot jumping in on such short notice! DJ PON3 and her wordsmith Spirit Projection!”
I put up my left hoof and the crowd goes wild. Probably because we got more of a home advantage compared to the griffon and mutt. Probably because we appear to be the underdogs in this. Probably because… they sense a victory.
“Rappers,” Mack says into the mic, signalling both D and I. “Come to the center of the stage for the coin flip.”
We come center stage, looking deep and angrily into each others’ eyes. Well… I’m trying to. Her beanie’s kind of in the way. Suddenly, a green hoof with a bit appears in the middle of us.
“Aight, you two.” Comes a deep, booming voice. One of the judges, I imagine. The notoriously big-boned one, I bet. “Before we start this I wanna highlight a certain rule, since we got a surprise entrant and some rumours are circulating ‘round. No touching at all, got it? You shake now, you shake after and any contact between the two of you in between leads to disqualification of the offending party. You hear?”
She nods. I nod.
“Good. Shake.”
I extend my left hoof. It meets the tight grip of her left talon. She comes in close to whisper in my ear.
“Colonel Sand-dirt can’t save you here, dweeb.”
“Seriously? Dweeb?” I couldn’t help but whisper back. “What are you, a school bully from a tacky 80s movie?”
She lets go, sneering. She knows I have this quite minor victory.
“Aight. D, your call.” The deep voice wheezed. “Heads or tails?”
“Heads.” she speaks as the judge flips the coin in the air. Please be tails. Please be tails. Please be tails…
Fuck!
“Heads it is.” Hater snickers. She knows how much we would like control. Wait, we still maybe have a chance of them wanting to be second so that we’ll be… “We’ll be going first then.”
Fuck!
Just nod, Woundsalt, and head to the turntable. Don’t show your disdain of the result to your opponent. Show them to your partner. Vinyl sighs as she sees my unhappy face. She knows what has happened. Well, that’s what happens when you have a plan that can be ruined by pure chance.
Mackerel hoofs the microphone to the griffon. She points at her partner in crime as some music begins to play from their speakers. This final is starting. And so she begins…
“Well, well, well
White ponies in trouble but can’t
Tell, tell, tell
that above them swoops one
hell, hell, hell
of a griffon takin’ to them to the rocks with rhyme
with beats so underground
they had to come from the mines
Do you really think you have a chance, 3?
having some Salty-looking punk
trying to rhyme to your musical junk? Please!
Like your mane, your style’s nonsense...
No seriously, who did that to you?
And at the time were they fully conscious?
You should apologise to the bass
Knowing how many times you poorly dropped it
And while we’re pulling out shoulds, you shoulda forfeit.
Showing up with a pony that nopony even knows
You think you too hot to trot, Spirit? Answer: No.
I predict that Projection’s over his head
Thought he’s as good as Slim but he’s shaking instead
But still crank it, Salty-boy, but don’t be surprise if your verse lacks
‘Cause even the pony you trying to be can’t do squat with your backing track!”
As the crowd does a loud and long “Hooo!” to the end of the verse, applauding at the efforts of the two. Meanwhile we, their opponents, are… perplexed. Or at least I am. They’re keeping the illusion alive. Why?
“It’s a trap.” Vinyl answered. She must tell I was about to raise the question to her. “If you reveal who you are, they’ll come back to you with what they think is a rebuttal that’ll hurt your reputation.”
That’ll hurt my reputation? How the buck can they have a rebuttal that good? Or maybe a better question to ask is… “What happens if we don’t reveal it?”
She is silent.
I get a tap on my shoulder. Mackerel passes the mic to me. Our turn.
“Buck it.” I whisper away from the mic. “Bucking Big Bang. Start it when I take off my hood.”
Bucking Big Bang, as the name suggests, starts with an explosion to start with and has a loud and powerful beat. An exquisite opening track.
“Wait… what are we going to do about the trap?” Vinyl asks. I thought I made it clear.
“Buck the trap. We need the reveal. We’re running straight into it and we’re running straight into it crossbows blazing.”
She opens her mouth to try and say something, only to close it again, nod and readies herself. Eyes on the griffon, Spirit Projection. Time to show ponies who you are.
“PON-3, you know I’m new ‘round here, so help me out a bit.
Give me a rolled up newspaper for this dog and bitch
Who think they’re hot shit because they’re this close to Tartarus, ‘Well, well, well’ please allow me to introduce...
...myself.”
The hood goes off, the explosion happens. The crowd screams with joy. I see the judges look at each other for a split second, eyebrows raised. I see Mackerel Shore jump up and down giddy with excitement as the explosion dies down. Perfect.
“My name is WOUNDSALT, mother bucker!
Got the call and I dropped my beer.
Because I heard birdie tweeting shit since I bucking got here.
So I say this, Hater, something I know you and your DJ dreads
Mr. Dove is Dead and his partner is out to bust your heads.
Because when my quill hits the ink, everypony start breathing
And when D’s words hit the mic everypony starts leaving
When 3’s needle hits the records everypony starts to see
And when the mutt’s tracks goes through the speakers everypony start to heave.
‘Cause We’re Definitely, Doubtlessly, Distinctly, Daringly, Dangerously, Diabolically better
And can Denudate, Dismember and Dismantle you down to Hater D’s Celestia-damn letter
Must start to regret-ah playing with ponies
Little girls like you, D, shouldn’t do that
Because it’s a good way to going so down
that you’ll become the Griffonstone economy’s floor mat.
Think you come back after all that I spat, you must be sconed.
Do I need to hoof the mic back or are you two doing the smart thing and gonna go home?
If so, here’s two proverbs for you from a Manehattan mare and Saint Diamond Heart’s Colt:
Don’t ever be brash with my Vinyl Scratch and ALL HAIL THE FUCKING ‘SALT!”
I throw the mic to Mackerel, which he catches. The crowd is louder than it ever has been so far; first with cheers and then chanting four of the last five words of the rap. “ALL HAIL THE ‘SALT! ALL HAIL, THE SALT!”
A quick look to the judges makes me believe they have also enjoyed it. A rotund green one, who I bet is the one who flipped the bit, looks at purple skinny stallion with two cans on his flank with eyes wide. “Holy crap.” his skinny comrade mouths to him. “Where the fuck did that come from?”
I think that means we’re winning. Vinyl’s face when I turned back to her is also showing signs that what I believe is true. “Dude… did we just blew the roof off this place or what?”
“I… I think the former.” I snicker. “How’d I do?”
“You did amazing!” She grins wildly. “You sure you’re new to this? ‘Cause that was some pro-level shit you put down!”
“Really?”
“Yeah! That alliteration thing you pulled did in that? I know damn well Slim wouldn’t do that sh-”
She stopped talking because we both noticed music playing. Familiar music. Familiar music coming from the other speakers. Our opponents speakers.
“Isn’t that...?” I ask Vinyl. She nodded before I even finished with the question.
The full question was going to be “Isn’t that our Sad Buck track?”
And the grins on the griffon and mutt confirm that not only did they took one of our songs, but they know we’re not happy about it.
“Sounds to me that my statements weren’t entirely true
But since we got the Unalicorn up here, let’s talk about you.
How you were the high horse with hard verses against the Princess
Sticking it to the Sun Goddess with every syllable... yet,
After five years what did that young upstart get?
To become her favourite student’s favourite pet.
No wait. Son. Sorry, wrong word. Haven’t you heard?
The big secret that got revealed by a friend of hers? It’s quite absurd.
Princess Twilight adopted you? You owned by royalty now?
No alcohol at the bar last night. Mommy got you on a routine? Wow.
You know what? I think I’m still right
The real Woundsalt is still in hiding
As his spirit haunts Saint Diamond Heart’s
Thinking about the days when he was writing
While his corpse sells out for a life for a cellist chick,
turtlenecks with blazers and Mommy Dearest’s digs.
And you know the part that I find the most strange?
Is the part that no renter admits their hero has changed.
I swear, there are two things I will never understand.
How you think you’re still the stallion or your petty pathetic fans.”
She puts the microphone straight into Mackerel Shore’s hooves with a smirk that’ll rival Vinyl Philharmonica’s greatest hits. Or maybe she took that too, the bitch. Every pony is silent with what she has presented towards us. She and her pooch, using the song Vinyl designed for making the opponent look like a sad fool, made me and everyone in the theatre that was cheering moments before the saddest of fools. I do some quick looks to some faces I can see in the audience. Either they have taken lemons during their piece or they are wincing by the fact they got insulted while D was tearing into my reputation and fandom. I’m willing to bet the only ponies smiling right now are the judges, the only ponies who decide who wins. They probably think that what she just said takes large stones. Not only did she just put me down, but she also put down everypony who supported me. Probably earnt her a lot of points.
Fuck.
I turn back to my disc jockey, to get her thoughts on the matter.
“Sl-Slim had a copy of my songs on a CD. To practise and shit.” Vinyl whimpers. She knows how brutal this is. “Hater must have took it off him when she… Woundsalt, I’m sorry, man. I didn’t think they would do this.”
She blames herself for this. She shouldn’t. Bastards stole her song… wait… “Are we allowed to protest? It’s our song they stole.”
“We… we could.” She sighs. “But they probably won’t believe us. There’s no telling who made what song. In fact, I bet that’s their back-up plan in case we pull something out of our flanks and win. They’ll protest, accuse us of taking all our songs from their library, everypony’s going to see how many songs they have compared to us and...”
My DJ looks down to her turntable “... And then that’s my reputation down the crapper, too.”
… You know something?
Fuck them.
Fuck them, the cheating assholes who break and manipulate the rules to their advantage. Fuck them, the brutes who get away with this kind of bullshit and never get punished due to little to no proof. Fuck them, the… Just fuck them! Fuck them for going at my girlfriend’s reputation!
… They want to go for the reputation? I may as well go for it, too.
Magic? Open up the diary. Let’s see what this Hater D’s hiding underneath her beanie.
… Oh? Well that’s… That could explain why she… Oh, so that’s why she… Oh, this is…
...Perfect.
We definitely got some verbal ammo, but just to make sure they don’t protest on us during our verse...
“Vinyl, what do we have that’s not on that CD?”
“Hmm? Well...” She says, slightly blushing. “I keep this one track for good luck wherever I go. It’s… Tavi playing a piece on a cello. I could make something out of it. I know a good drum beat that could be great with it.”
“Is it punchy?”
“Well, after the intro, yeah.” She nods until she realises why I asked her. “What the buck have you got planned?”
All I can do, as I get the microphone, is smirk like a champ.
“I plan to win this mother bucker. When I put my hoof up, pause the track, got it?”
She smirks back. I would like to believe I have the better one this time. “Wait for the drum beat.”
I turn around ready to go with a stare so fierce at Hater D that if her feathers started to catch fire I wouldn’t be surprised. I hear some good solo, as she cocks her head. She never saw this co… ming… Wow, Octavia is playing her cello… Bah! Focus, Woundsalt! You can get a copy of the song later to drool to! The drums will come in any second!
Here it is. Let’s see how long she’s going to take until she breaks.
“Oh, I’m sorry. But I seem to recall
That I didn’t see you or your poodle at the Sugarcube Corner at all…”
She decided to turn to her DJ at this precise moment. Big mistake. I put up my hoof.
“...Gilda.”
Yeah, that got her head turned round. You get personal with me? Let’s see how you like the taste of your medicine. The hoof goes down.
“Understandable, knowing the last time you went there
You embarrassed yourself in front of Rainbow Dash
By being just a fucking nas
-ty bitch with a bad attitude to her newer friends
Shit got bitter in the end
What happened to never coming back again?
Did you forget how your old compadre put your ass in place
So now you ‘Hate R.D.’ and gave her some space?
And add this to the list of shit you can’t understand, Bird Brain
That I changed because I know if I stayed the same
I’d be just like you
Some grumpy cunt with nothing to do
but sighs and cries in her room
And be in a fucking mood
Which is also why the fans don’t care
If I did shit different to my ideals and hair
Because they know the taste of Salt’s in the air
And still hits like a big fucking bear!
And who cares if I’m owned by royalty?
Ask Celestia and she’ll tell you I’ve been owning her constantly
Honestly…”
I put my hoof up again. I better take this home.
“Say, this is beginning to sound like something to write to ‘Mommy Dearest’
Dear Twilight: Hope you’re alright. Today I got a lesson for you. Let your ears hear this.
Change; whether it’s something planned or sudden
Happened to you or your bother
Something somepony needs to do
Or somepony’s got a new lover
Support is the best thing when it happens
And I want to thank everypony for being with me
because I know the other
way is how a griffon hates
and starts being a bother
So to conclude, Change happens and support is how good friends
remain to be good friends at the day's…”
End.
I was supposed to say end.
But she punched me. She punched me hard.
I fall on the floor knowing that the cheaters will finally be disqualified... and that I still got it.