Speakeasy

by Scienza

From Behind Violet Sunglasses

When you live your life behind tinted sunglasses, you remain unattached. Those thin lenses, that centimeter of tinted glass and metal, shields you from the squalid world around you. You become distant, vital to success in the crime-ridden world of Canterlot’s night life. You have to be distant, in case the stallion you sang Appleoosan drinking songs with last night turns up dead, or a “friend” goes at you with a knife. The crime lords that run the underground nightclubs are ruthless, and if you ever show weakness, reveal one small chink in your armor, they’ll exploit it. That’s why I’m here.

I never thought that I’d end up here, working in the Canterlot undercity, drinking my sorrows away. I used to be a model student, perfect grades and all that shit. I never did anything bad beyond the occasional drink or vandalism, you know, normal teenage behavior. I had a passion for music. I would just play my songs on street corners, just to see the other ponies smile. It was great. One day, a night-club owner heard me play. He gave me an offer, work for him, play a few songs, and get rich. It was exciting, those first few days. Just playing my songs, getting a few ponies to dance. Maybe a few drinks now and then, but I never got too drunk. I still kept up with my school work. I was on top of the world, living a double life. During the day, I was Vinyl Scratch, life of the high school social scene. At night, I was DJ P0N-3, queen of the club.

I was only seventeen when I got hooked on salt. I’m not sure who introduced me, probably one of the bartenders. It was intoxicating, the swirling colors and wonderful tingling feeling throughout your whole body. It was like entering another world. After my first time, I just spent all my time and cash at the club. Another day was just another dose, another opportunity to enter that wonderful world. Soon, I stopped going to school. Eventually, my parents kicked me out. I guess they just couldn’t handle that their “perfect” daughter had dropped out of high school. I just came home one day, and they had my shit packed by the door. I didn’t really care, all that was important was the next time I’d get some salt.

My best friend was this beautiful pegasus filly named Culture Shock. She was funny, smart, drop dead gorgeous, you know, the kind of pony that you can’t help but fall in love with. She’d been my best friend in high school, and introduced me to techno and rock and all the good shit that makes the fucking world go round. She was smart, like really fucking smart. She’d probably’ve gone to university after graduation, if I hadn’t ruined her life. I guess she thought it was her job to save me, but when I quit school, she dropped out, and when my parents showed me the door, she moved into my new apartment. She was destined for so much better. She should have been in Celestia’s court, or exploring the remote parts of the world, or just making other ponies happy. Not living in a tiny apartment in a crime-ridden neighborhood with a salt-addict. I never really appreciated her. She had to put up with so much shit from me. Like when I got really drunk or high, I’d just… change. Like some fucking monster was let out. One night, I smashed a hoof through one of the walls of our apartment. Another time… I put her in the ER. I just lost it one night, after a hard day. I remember waking up on the floor, the haze of salt fading, and Shock was just lying on the floor in a pool of blood. She was so small, fragile, the little feathers on her wings staining crimson from her own blood. It was both heart-breaking and beautiful.

Culture Shock still stuck with me after she got out of the hospital. I don’t know why, I surely didn’t deserve it. She was the most loyal friend, the kind that would die for you, and I loved her for it. She even got me off of salt. She just got me to quit. I still drank like a demon, but I wasn’t going to the other world any more. I quit my job at the club and tried to go legit. I released a few albums, made some money. It was the happiest time of my life. I let myself get attached to Shock, and… hell, you don’t spend years in close proximity with a pony without falling in love with them slightly. We started going out, spending time together in public… and in doing so, I tore off my breastplate and exposed my flank to the mob. I had always been so careful, making sure that no one drew the connection between me and her. But then I got careless, I thought we were safe. Boy, was I fucking wrong.

We were both about twenty-one. It was a beautiful night, and I proposed to her. It was straight from a movie, the perfect background, the perfect moment… the perfect couple. I don’t know what kind of crappy wedding I would have been able to afford from the meager record sales my music was receiving, but damn, it would’ve been ours. We were heading back to our apartment. I was on cloud nine, in a happy daze I hadn’t felt for years. Then, two stallions grabbed us from the alleyway. Turns out that they were from my old boss, who wasn’t happy that I stopped working for him. I’d made the mistake of being seen with Culture Shock, and well, they wanted to teach me a lesson. They killed her, right in front of me. I still see it whenever I close my eye… the way her eyes widened when the knife penetrated her chest… the way she slumped over. She coughed up blood on the pavement, and I held her as she died in my arms. The last thing she did was look at me with those beautiful violet eyes of hers, and smile. In her eyes, I could see all my hopes, all my dreams of a life shared with her, die along with her. Her head lolled back, and I carefully closed her eyes. I stood up and glared at the stallions. The sick fucks had just watched, as she died right in front of them. I through the haze of tears over my eyes, I could see the world go red as I was consumed by the rage I hadn’t felt for so many years.

I beat the stallions up pretty bad. One went into a coma for two years, and is still on a respirator. The other… well he never woke up. I was never prosecuted because it was an obvious case of self defense, and besides, as the judge argued, I had just rid Canterlot of two more scum. I wish they had locked me up. It would have given me time to repent, think about my life. But instead, I was given a pat on the back and turned loose. I started taking salt again. The only way to escape my sorrows, to escape that night, was to enter the fantastic world of drugs. I also started wearing the sunglasses again. All my life, I’d worn these sunglasses. Sure, they gave me one hell of a trademark, but they also shielded me from the dark things of the world. I’d stopped wearing them when I tried to become legitimate. Culture Shock always hated these things, the way they wouldn’t let her see my eyes. I guess I started wearing them again as a reminder to never become attached to another pony again, and always remember the beautiful pegasus. And so I became detached. Every day was just another job, another gig, another dose of salt. It was a cold, mechanical rhythm. I guess it was my way of grieving. Instead of becoming lost in emotion, I stopped feeling.

It’s a terrible thing to fear yourself. To know that beneath your ruby eyes, and bright smile lives a monster waiting to be unleashed. But yet I was in constant fear of myself. I know that deep inside me was a beast, normally released through alcohol or salt, but if I ever got angry, I would be consumed by it. I live in fear that one day, I’ll snap the way that Culture Shock’s murder drove me insane, and I’ll hurt a large number of ponies. One day I’ll get pushed too far and massacre an entire club, or set off a bomb in the streets of Canterlot. I don’t know my limits, only that the demon is getting easier and easier to release every day. So I don’t know my fate. Will I end by noose, or salt overdose, or worst of all, die by public execution for mass murder.

All my life, these sunglasses have shielded me from the world, but now I wonder, have these lenses protected me from the world… or everypony from me?