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1746 9.7 KB 118
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=Am I Evil 3=
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>You and Eris play your instruments and set Chrysalis up for the last verses of the last song in your set.
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>The Changeling Queen pushes aside the pulsing lights she’d conjured over the rambunctious crowd and straddles her microphone.
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>”When we started this band, all we needed, needed was a laugh…times gone by, I’d say we’ve kicked some ass.”
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>She looks back at you and grins, she could be rather warm when she wanted to.
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>The four of you raise your instruments and slam out the rest of the cords to lyrics Chrysalis wrote down…what, three days ago? Something like that.
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>You and Arty go to the mics on stage to provide backing for Chrysalis as the pulsating lights return and drive the crowd into a new uproarious frenzy.
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>Chrysalis turns back to you. “Okay boys let’s rock the house!”
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>You and Arty lift your guitars over your heads and lead the band in playing the last, explosive finisher of the song loud enough to shake the roof.
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>You speak into the tube hanging from your mouth and sing the final lyrics in a robotic tone before slamming down the last note as Chrysalis’s pulsating orbs explode.
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“Ptew. Nasty.”
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>You hook the talk-box tube on your shoulder and walk to the front of the stage, waving at the cheering crowd and flicking spare picks their way.
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>Chrysalis stands on top of a speaker raising her arms and drinking in the praise and literal love of the crowd, blowing exaggerated kisses to them.
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>”Yes. Thank you! Thank you! Glad you liked the show. Yes, thank you very much.”
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>She hops down and offers a wave as she starts backstage, Sombra and Eris had already slinked away. “Goodnight! And gods bless!”
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>You quickly follow Chrysalis back off stage so the next band in the docket can take over, from there it’s all business.
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“Huey! Yo Huey, where you at?”
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>Huey was your roadie, the best in the business if he lived up to his own hype. He could fix, obtain, and scrounge up, and sweet talk just about anyone or anything. Some said he was so good that he had to have an extra arm hidden somewhere. He hailed from some tropical locale down south and had just as checkered a past as the rest of you, apparently with some legal action with some writer.
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>The tanned roadie walks comes around the corner with Eris’ bass on his back already. “Here Anonymous, you know my name, say it right.”
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“No, I know how your name is SPELLED but I can’t pronounce it, it’s different.”
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>Huey rolls his yellow eyes and takes yours and Arty’s guitars off to a quiet spot to retune them.
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>He liked to work alone, said you could hardly ever trust hired help.
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>You step into the green room while the next band starts their set and catch Chrysalis wiping away “eyeliner” and applying “lipstick” in the mirror.
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>You sigh. Her changing the color of her skin to save on real makeup was weird, it made you wonder if she was actually wearing clothes or if she was wearing woven hair.
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“Show’s over Chrys, you can stop whoring yourself up.”
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>”Very funny coming from the man still wearing the mask.”
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>Gah shit.
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>You reach up and roll the mask off yourself.
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“You know I barely feel it these days.”
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>”We all barely feel it with you, Anon.”
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>You wince.
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“That hurts me.”
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>Chrysalis gives you an incredulous look as she settles on the right shade of green for her lips. “Darling, you walked right into it.”
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>Not technically untrue.
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“So who is it this time?”
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>Chrysalis grins and pushes her corset up in the mirror. “Remember the reggae-funk band that played before us?”
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“The ones with the tone deaf singer? I remember.”
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>”Well I caught their drummer making eyes at me during our set, I would wager it can’t hurt to network, get to know the other bands on the circuit…”
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“Really? Jet Set Dredlocks out there?”
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>”You’re one to talk.”
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“No, I was just warning you against the dangers of lockjaw.”
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>”SO kind of you.”
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>Chrysalis moves a single hair into place and looks at you, frowning.
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>”Am I pretty?”
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“Were I not your close friend and a gentleman of unparalleled statue, I would whisk you away and have my way with you.”
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>”Cuz I’m pretty?”
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“Cuz you’re pretty.”
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>”That didn’t stop you on Las Pegasus.”
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>Fucking-
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“Okay then I’m tired after the show and THAT’s why.”
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>Chrysalis kisses your cheek like a mother would. “Always so honest, you make us old-hens so proud.”
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“Go blow your drummer.”
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>Bidding Chrysalis farewell, you turn to head down the hall to the front of the club. You’re quickly pushed to once side by Sombra’s hulking mass as he carries two giggling women on his shoulders like bags of wheat to the mill.
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>You let him pass and look down the hall where he came from, Arty and Eris are there.
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“Buncha goddamn sex perverts in the band, I swear!”
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>”It’s because he doesn’t wear a shirt.” Eris says.
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“No shit.”
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>You walk over and join them, grabbing your cold weather coat from the rack.
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“What’re you two up to.”
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>Arty leans against a wall. “Waiting for-ah, there! My good man!” he says raising an arm.
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>Artemis, well, technically Night-Terror since he still had that retarded helmet on, even if the magic he used to conceal his face wasn’t dispelled and you could see his stupid haircut, walked over to a guy carrying a clipboard.
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>”Set’s done, crowd entertained, any chance we can get our pay and get out of your hair for the night?”
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>This used to be where you’d prey the club owner wouldn’t skimp you with nothing but kind words and a pistol, but running with the posse you ran with carried certain intimidating benefits.
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>”Pay’s coming out of the take tonight, meet back here after all the bands are done and we’ll talk cash.” He says.
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>The manager grabs a pen and scribbles on his clipboard. “Which ones were you?”
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“Mystik Spyral, but we’re thinking about changing the name.”
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>Yeah you’d been thinking about that for the last six months.
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>The manager scribbles that down and nods to you, walking away. Artemis sighs and removes his helmet. “I’m starved, how much do you two have on you?”
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>You stick your hand in your pockets and feel for coins.
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“Sixteen, seventeen eightee-no, that’s lint. Seventeen bits.”
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>”I’ve got nine.” Eris says.
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>”I’ve only got thirteen on me…” Artemis says.
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“So what can we buy with thirty-nine bits for all of us?”
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>An awkward moment passes between band-members.
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>”Let’s go buy ice cream until we puke.” Eris says.
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>Brilliance.
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>A few minutes later the three of you are walking down the street. Actually you and Arty are walking on the street, Eris is balancing with her arms out as she walks along a stone wall and argues with you.
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>”You’re Wrong, Anon! Stupid Donkey Blues music isn’t crap to us!”
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“Eris the influence of classical music is –I’m sure- impossible to understate but it’s not heavy metal’s next-door neighbor! There’s shit in-between on the scale both in hardness and chronology! Arty, back me up!”
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>Artemis puts his hands up. “I was with Eri for many magical years, I did my time, you can’t make me go back.”
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>Eris sticks her snake-y tongue out at Artemis and turns back to you. “Nuh-uh! They went from playing classical to playing the music that’s out there now! I was there, I know!”
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“Eris, what did you have for breakfast today?”
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>Eris stops walking and scratches her chin. “T…ennis balls?”
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“You had pepperoni and pickles, the same thing you have every week, your memory sucks.”
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>Eris exhales into her hand and sniffs it. “That explains that…”
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>The Chaos-bassist starts walking again but pauses a little bit further down the wall, turning sideways, bending down, and grabbing a poster off the wall.
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>You’d ask how she saw it, but the answer would just be “It’s Chaos, I don’t have to explain it” again.
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>”Guys! Check this out!”
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>You and Artemis head over and look at the poster Eris floats down with.
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>It’s pink, like lots of shit, with lightning bolts and v-guitars in cartoony style around the edges. And hearts. Always the fucking hearts.
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>”Do you have what it takes to be a rock legend?” it asks. “Canterlot Musical Society is holding a battle of the bands! Gather your friends, your best licks, and your most rocking ballads and show us what you’re made of!”
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>”Ew, ballads…” Eris says.
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“Arty your sister has GOT to get a better print ad designer.”
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>”Royalty are slaves to their subjects, you’ve known me long enough to know that.”
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>”Still this is cool!”
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>Eris bounces a bit in excitement and doesn’t suffer the effects of gravity, now hovering a few feet off the ground and reclining. “We can beat these pussies and make more than thirty-nine bits at the same time! You know what that means!”
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>Holy shit, you did!
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>”We can put it into the band and get better equipment!” Artemis says.
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“We can make Arty have to accept an award from his own sister!”
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>Eris pumps her arms. “We can get even MORE ice-cream!”
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“Okay, band huddle.”
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>You pull the two of them in.
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“New plan: We go back to the hotel, pull Chrys and Sombra off whomever they have in their, tell them about this and get ready to blow these other bands the fuck OUT.”
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>Artemis and Eris both stare through you.
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>”That’s a terrible idea, Anon.” she says.
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“Uhg. Fine. We go eat the ice cream, digest while they end up siring heirs we have to deal with later, THEN do all that other stuff, agreed?”
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>Artemis nods. “I’m not dealing with them getting blueballed.”
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>”I like the plan one with the ice cream.”
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>Whatever, that works, at least it was a plan.
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>You walk past them and lead down the street, stuffing the flier in your coat pocket along the way.
by Mandroid
by Mandroid
by Mandroid
by Mandroid
by Mandroid