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1446 8.23 KB 129
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=Am I Evil 6=
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>Criminey Stablside was too damn hot.
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>You meandered down the street of the port town in your “warm getup” which basically meant long shorts and a tshirt.
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>You weren’t a “showing your legs” kinda guy. Or any kind of skin for that matter what with the mask.
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>Chrysalis had –somehow- gotten you a gig at the southern tip of the continent, near the fringes of the kingdom, but she sprung it on you all a week or so after the Canterlot Music Festival, saying that due to your heightened status for winning that thing, you could expand.
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>Granted having to spend four hours on Artemis’ royal jet while hearing him complain about it was less than fun, but it was what it was.
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>As you drew closer to the club you were set to play at, you noticed some of the other local musicians stopping to talk to fans in the street or being stopped.
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>Some were hitting on or getting hit on, a few were signing autographs and at least one was being followed.
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>Something you relished about your life was the anonymity you embraced with your name. It meant you could go to a bar or the store or whatever and not be accosted by people. There was also some sick voyeuristic thrill or something in knowing who you were but them not.
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>Whatever, you were an oddball surrounded by oddballs, it didn’t matter.
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>You round the corner of the club and spot Eris and Sombra and some girl Sombra had hanging off him. outside leaning on the wall having a smoke, they raise their hands when they see you.
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>”Hey.”
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“Sup.”
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>”We’re on in two hours, third from last.” Sombra says.
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>You contort your face.
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“That’s…a weird place.”
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>Eris shrugs. “Maybe that’s how they do it in Zebrica.”
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>You look around.
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“Where’s Chrys and Arty?”
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>Eris stomps her cigarette out. “Arty’s off explaining to his sister why he’s not home.”
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>”And Chrys is hanging with The Black Stripes.”
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>”Oh your god Sombra, you can’t just go around calling Zebricans that.”
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>You head inside.
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>You step through the cigar smoke and crowds and look around. Chrysalis was seated at a table with six gentlemen. You head over and catch them all laughing at the tail end of some joke.
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“Chrysalis! Who are your chocolate comrades?”
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>Chrysalis looks back at you. “Hahaha…he-hey Anon! Pfftahahaha…” she grabs you by the arm and grabs a chair with her magic, pulling you into it and up at the table.
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>”Guys, this is Anon, our lead guitarist.”
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>One of them leans forward. “You’re the one in the mask, right?” he says in a slight accent.
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“That’s me.”
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>He nods and pats your shoulder. “It’s a good mask, it reminds me of home.”
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>You flash him the horns. This guy was cool, mask enthusiasts were hard to come by.
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>”Anon, this is Kunta, Norm-“
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>”I’m adopted.” One you assume is Norm says.
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>”He’s adopted.” Chrysalis continues. “Norm, Eee’da, Avery Day, and ‘Chala.” She says going counterclockwise around the table.
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“You guys a band too?”
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>’Chala nods. “In a way, we perform slam poetry.”
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“…Slam…?”
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>”They’re rappers, Anon.” Chrysalis says.
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>Oh.
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>”Slam poetry is an ancient custom of the Zebricans, we’re happy to see it caught on overseas.”
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>You look around at all of them, dark skin marking them from Zebrica as well as ghost white tribal markings, but modern dress in identical long coats and caps.
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>Your eyes drift to Chrysalis.
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“So are they why we’re here because I don’t think the hotel beds are big enough for all o-OOF!”
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>The heavy glass mug sitting in front of you gets pushed off the table by an unseen twitch of Chrysalis’s finger.
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>Right on your balls.
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"OW. FUCK."
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>You keel over.
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>”Whoops! Let me get that.” Chrysalis says, bending down.
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>She glares at you under the table as you wince.
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>”You will never see me naked again.”
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“Don’t lie to your bandmate.” You cough out.
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>Chrysalis grabs the mug and rises back up, pulling you along with her.
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>”So, when do you guys head up?”
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>Kunta holds up three fingers. “Three from now.”
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“Damn, better than us, we’re third from last.”
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>Avery Day shakes his head. “Man, how they gonna do that to the best band in Canterlot?”
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>”You heard about that?”
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“You heard us before?”
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>Avery extends his arms. “The streets got ears, mang.”
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>Well damn.
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“That’s-“
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>The lights above dim save for the stage.
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>”Oh shit, new talent.”
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>Onto the stage trots an old face and a new one.
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>”Heeeeey there everybody! My name’s Pinkie Pie!”
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>You feel Chrysalis cringe next to you. “By the ancestors…”
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“What is she wearing?”
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>”Damn son…”
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>Next to her stands a little girl with purple hair in a nice dress.
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>”This here is my friend and music partner Sweetie Belle! We’re going to perform some slam poetry we wrote for you!”
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>The kid nods and grabs the mic. “I’m gonna sing!” she says, all too excited to be on stage.
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“Oh no…”
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>Pinkie goes to the turntables and starts up a beat with some soundbites, Sweetie Belle grabs the microphone.
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>The club is DEAD SILENT save for the girl no older than twelve singing on the stage.
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>She had the voice of an angel, the beats were pretty good too.
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>But goddamn…
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>”Yo…where’s that kids parents at?”
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>”They –can’t- not know she’s here, man.”
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“With Pinkie Pie who knows.”
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>Avery turns around and faces you. “You know that girl?”
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“We’ve met.”
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>”That woman should not have a future in music.” Chrysalis says.
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>”Or raisin’ kids.”
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>”Or that.”
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>You look around. Several patrons had the same expressions you all had, shock, appall, confusion, but many were bobbing their heads to Pinkie’s factory churned beat that wormed its way into their ears.
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“I dunno…” you say.
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>Chrysalis looks over at you.
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“Look at these people, those beats may be uninspired but they’re –good-.”
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>”I bet you anything it’s that dude out in Candia.” Avery says.
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>Chrysalis turns and arch her eyebrow, Avery continues. “Some dude out there said he cracked how to make catchy music, you pay him and he cranks out a hit for ya, it’s disgraceful.”
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>Kunta eyes Pinkie. “They may win at this rate…”
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”Who else is set to play tonight, anyone good?”
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>Chrysalis rests her chin in her hand. “There’s at least one one-man-band.”
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>Ew.
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“So just us.”
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>”Looking like.”
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>Chrysalis’s eyes drift over the Stripes and you.
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>”…We all like each other here, right?”
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>You nod, so do the Stripes, Avery adding “That girl you got in the suit is HOT.”
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>”So…” Chrysalis continues. “Do we want to beat each other senseless or knock this travesty out? And split the bonus for the encore.”
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>All the Stripes look at each other then you. “Whatchu got in mind?”
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>Chrysalis dons her “Evil queen” grin. “Anon, go get the others, we have a plan to enact and not much time.”
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>A few hours later the ten of you were backstage rushing out.
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>Avery grabs the mic.
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>”Yeah. Yo. We are The Black Stripes.” He says to some applause.
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>It was awkward shuffling out onto the stage with so many people, but you made do.
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>”And we are Mystik Spyral…but we’re gonna change that name, keep an ear out for us.” Chrysalis says.
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>You, Artemis, Eris, and Sombra all laid your cords out and plugged them into the turntable as Norm got behind it.
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“Levels good?” you ask him.
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>He gives you one thumb up.
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>”Today…we decided to try something different, we hope you all enjoy.” Chrysalis says.
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>You walk out further towards the front of the stage patting your strings, filling the club with a low hum.
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>The remaining members of the Stripes each grab individual microphones and mill about the stage, either enticing the crowd or looking tough. Chrysalis joined Norm behind the table.
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>Once everyone looked ready, you grabbed your pick.
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“We ready!?”
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>You get thumbs up, nods, crossed drumsticks, and a power stance in response.
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“Hit it, Sombra!”
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>The song was a fusion of all things good both in the world and locally.
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>It was important to try new things, even if you just wrote it over the course of two hours while eating chicken wings.
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>Sombra does a six-count and blasts you all off.
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by Mandroid
by Mandroid
by Mandroid
by Mandroid
by Mandroid