• Published 3rd Jun 2014
  • 1,464 Views, 44 Comments

Glass Castle, Iron Facade - Hidden Brony

Everyone has a facade hiding who they really are underneath, and every facade has a weak point. The time has come for the true Vinyl Scratch to be revealed to the world, whether she likes it or not.

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Chapter 1

As the last echoes of music faded, the cheers of the crowd replaced it in spades, creating a nearly tangible wall of sound louder than anything the DJ’s rig could ever hope to put out. She stared out at the assembled ponies, all were standing under a thin layer of hanging smoke—both from her machine and otherwise—and some were still bouncing to music that was no longer there. The ground rumbled as ponies stomped their hooves while hollering, and a chant was taken up by the crowd.

“PON-3. PON-3. PON-3.”

The white mare let a smirk form on her face as she basked in the love of her fans. After a few seconds, she raised a hoof, calming the crowd enough for her to be heard over it. "Thanks, everypony, and goodnight! My good friend DJ NEON MIDN1GHT here is gonna be taking you for the rest of tonight, see all you again same time next week!"

With that, she strode off the stage, walking with purpose into her dressing room with her head held high. As soon as the door closed, she allowed herself to droop. She plodded over to her beanbag chair, haphazardly tossing her signature shades onto the table as she passed. She collapsed onto the comfortable chair, just letting her mind wander and recover from the hectic show moments before.

She was drawn out of her musing by the teasing of an irritatingly familiar voice. “Hey, Scratch. See you’re being thoughtful. Tired?”

"What are you doing here, Beat?" she asked irritatedly. "Don't you have a mare to flirt with behind your marefriend's back?"

The light green stallion—Steady Beat, by name—put a hoof to his chest in half-faked indignation. "Thoughts and teases are harmless, actions have true weight."

Vinyl rolled her purple eyes. "Sure. I'm certain that both whichever hussy you're dating this week and the random mare from the street completely agree with you."

He sighed, mostly in irritation but with a tinge of exasperation. "You should at least pretend to be happy for me, sis."

She snorted. "For what? The next in your mile-long list of conquests? I told you four mares ago that I gave up on you."

Beat stomped a hoof on the ground in his first sign of true anger. "I told you yesterday that I'm engaged, Vinyl! We've been together for three years! I've changed!"

"So you weren't joking about that? That mare six months ago just stumbled, punch drunk, into your room, and you were enough of a gentleman to let her use your bed for the night?"

"That mare six months ago was the biggest mistake I've made in my life," Beat said quietly, "especially since Ruby trusted me when I said the one before was the last." He took a deep breath and set his jaw. "But I've put that behind me. We're weaning me off the constant flirting, and I haven't cheated on Ruby in the past six months."

"Such an achievement. She's lucky to have caught you when she did." The sarcasm dripping from Vinyl's tongue was nearly palpable.

"I came here to congratulate you on a set well done, but if you intend to keep insulting me, I'll just leave!" Beat snapped.

"Good! Go!" Vinyl snapped back. "Go back to your gullible hussy!"

Beat snarled as he whipped a hoof across his sister's face, sending her stumbling back and to the side. "Insult me all you want, but leave Ruby out of your mud-slinging." He scoffed as Vinyl looked at him in shock. "I'm turning over a new leaf, just like you did; the least you can do is pretend to support me as I did you." Before the DJ's brain could process what had happened, her brother turned around and left, slamming the door behind himself.

Vinyl Scratch was at a loss for words as she stared at the door that had just been slammed in her face. She'd been hurt far worse in the past—in fact, Beat had even broken one of her legs when they were little—but it was always on accident. She could do little else but deflate as she listened to her brother's hoofsteps fade as he moved down the hall. When they disappeared, she rested her head against the painted wood. "Sorry," she muttered ineffectively.

The wood remained silent as ever.

After a moment, she straightened herself. Well, I can just smoothe this over as soon as I get home. If he's not there, he'll have to be soon. All his stuff's there, she thought. With a groan she walked over to her private mini bar. She needed a beer before she could talk to him again.

Vinyl stumbled up the front steps to her home, having indulged herself in more than one beer. She pushed open the door and was greeted by the sound of laughter and the metallic chink of cutlery. Wearily, she walked down the hall and looked into the dining room. Around the table she saw her parents, Beat, his marefriend Ruby, and what looked like Ruby’s immediate family. She should have known that Beat wouldn’t come to her show to actually congratulate her. He must have been meant to tell her about this dinner.

Groaned. Despite what she had said about her earlier, Vinyl had no problem with Ruby, she actually thought she was a good influence on her idiot older brother. Her sister on the other hand?

The grey mare sat at the table as far away from Beat and Ruby as she could be, aiming a look of derision at the duo, and as such was the closest to the door. As soon as Vinyl walked—well, stumbled, more precisely—into the room, the mare’s face screwed up in disgust. “When you said they were both musicians, I assumed that one of them would actually play music.”

“Octavia,” her mother chided. “There’s no reason for you to be—”

“He-e-e-e-e-ey,” Vinyl’s interrupting slur held out for a few seconds as she pointed a hoof at the mare. “Hey, hey, hey, Tavi. Hey, Tavi, what I do? What I do is re-e-e-e-eal music.” She swung her hoof through the air, drunkenly accenting her held out syllable. “I do every—” she paused a moment, lifting a hoof in thought as she forgot where she was going for a second. “I do every sound by me onesy, capiche? I’m not no violin, or whatever it is you fancy shmancy ponies do with your music.” She ended her little tirade by poking the mare in the chest, leaving her hoof there. The room held their breath, hoping that the uptight mare let this drop.

Octavia glared at her. “I’ll have you know that I play the cello, not the violin.” She brought up a hoof and smacked the DJ’s own away roughly. “And my name is Octavia, not ‘Tavi’.”

Vinyl chuckled. “Geez, Tavi. Chill out.”

"Oh, like you know the meaning of 'chill,'" said Octavia exasperatedly. "All you ever do is listen that dreadful dubstep or whatever it is. Possibly the least calm thing I've ever heard."

"Well I actually don't make dubstep, so there," replied Vinyl, sticking her tongue out at Octavia.

"Oh, it all sounds the same to me," grumbled Octavia, crossing her forelegs distastefully. "Loud noises which masquerade as music and have no emotion in them besides anger—if any at all.”

Vinyl stiffened and walked up to Octavia, leaning into her face dangerously. She growled, "Ya wanna repeat that, you stuck up snob?"

"Vinyl!" cried her mother, "you will not talk to a guest like that."

"Oh, no, Mrs. Portrait," said Octavia sourly, glaring at Vinyl. "She's obviously drunk right now. I'm sure if she were sober she would be absolutely charming."

Vinyl shook her head. "Nuh-uh, you dissed my music; this is me being polite."

"If you can even call it music," rebutted Octavia. “I bet you write most of it drunk as you are now and don’t even play half of it out of embarrassment!”

The snarl that tore its way out of Vinyl’s throat would be improperly labeled as “animalistic” or “primal”. It was a sound of pure primordial rage, emerging from a pit rooted firmly in the bedrock of base equine nature.

It was, of course, followed by an equally solid hoof.