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Like Mending Glass

by Eyeswirl the Weirded

Chapter 8: Chapter 7: Operation H.T.T.G.F.B.

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8:00p.m. Club Canterlot.

Never, he suspected, had such a simple, unassuming name been used to identify the sort of scandalously wild parties held within it’s walls. Loud music, colorful lights, some of them in the form of little sticks of no apparent purpose. Similarly, never had he suspected that he’d venture into such a place of his own free will in search of Canterlot’s most notorious punk pony, DJ PON-3, for anything other than to arrest her in Celestia’s name.

Not that that was probably a long list, he supposed, trying to work out the exact pronunciation of the mare’s name. DeeJay Pohn-three? Pon-EEE? Whatever, I understand that’s just a stage name anyway. Now if I could only remember her actual name… Searching his memory in vain, he approached the entrance and was stopped by a burly hoof to his chest, attached to a much burlier dark orange, purple-maned earth pony in a black shirt and sunglasses, despite the sun having been lowered for the night.

“You got I.D.?” He asked in a voice that sounded masculine, but a tad nasally, not so much as looking at Blueblood, just staring straight ahead.

Got a few guesses as to how this might play out, the out-of-place noblepony thought, perfectly styled mane and especially elegant black tailcoat with golden trim and a dark blue cravat looking pristine and presentable. One had to make a good first impression on one they’d hope would help them do something reckless and exciting, after all.

He gave a winning smile and spoke as he did any time he’d needed to impress a commoner; refined, but fairly forceful in tone. “I am Prince Blueblood, if you’d kindly step aside and allow me into your establishment-“

The bouncer, that was what Blueblood was pretty sure ponies who stood outside places not letting others in either were called when they didn’t bear armor of the royal guard, snorted loudly. “Yea, an’ I’m the Element’a Laughter, Ha, Ha, Ha.”

Smile replaced with a look of regal indignation, he raised an eyebrow. “You don’t believe me?”

“Oh no,” the bulky stallion who likely ate entire cartons of eggs each morning said with not a hint of sincerity, “we gets princes and princesses down ‘ere all th’a time, think I threw a ‘Prince Blueblood’ all th'a way across th’a street just a couple nights ago.” He reached up with a hoof to lower his shades just enough to show his eyes. “You wouldn’t happen ta’ be that Blueblood, would ya?”

The actual Prince Blueblood supposed white-coated unicorn colts weren’t terribly uncommon in this city and that some were bound to be the sort to try to gain entry to a night club using his name. Still, he didn’t back down.

“No,” he replied evenly, “I’m the Blueblood that Princess Celestia herself sends when she needs a problem solved here in the city,” Anywhere, actually, whenever she doesn’t want to send Princess Twilight and the rest, but he need not know that. Levitating Celestia’s royal seal from his coat pocket and floating it where he was sure it could be seen, sunglasses or no, he made sure his voice sounded cold. “You don’t want to be a problem… Do you?”

The bouncer’s dark orange coat grew a little paler as his eyes widened, his speech short of breath. “Y-you, you here about them reports? I swears there ain’t nothin’ in th'a basement, we ain’t even GOT a basement, really ‘s more like a closet down some steps, I-“

Not losing any of his cold stare, the prince smiled just a little. “If you’d kindly step aside and allow me into your establishment…?”

After a hastily stammered affirmative and apology, Blueblood was casually trotting into Club Canterlot. Lying about having royal duties to attend to as a means of gaining entrance to a such a place was hardly something one of his position should be doing, he noted, but it seemed like he was on the right track for kicking off an adventure, even if a stern talking-to from either or both of his aunts awaited him at the end of it.

Looking around, he quickly decided against regular visits to this place. The loud, erratic noise that apparently passed for music was almost deafening, ponies staggered about while others danced in a manner not befitting of anypony attending a civilized event, those little glowing sticks were being waved about by some, and the overall lighting was just dim enough to give what would undoubtedly be an eerie feeling if not for everything else. The low light didn’t make finding the DJ much easier, either, but by the description he’d been given, she should stand out a little even here.

White unicorn mare, two-toned blue mane, and glasses with violet lenses, cutie mark’s a bridged eighth note… Now where are you? He moved slowly through the club, dodging what were most likely drunken ponies and horribly uncoordinated dancers as he searched for the pony whom he might have been in for an awkward situation with if he couldn’t pronounce her name right. As he did, he noticed more and more gazes following him, some full of fear, some full of contempt, confusion, excitement, and a few that were probably just full of cheap liquor. The prince was thankful when the loud music stopped, but everypony in the room seemed to be looking straight at him at that moment.

Suppose I do make something of an impression dressed this way in a place with no dress code. The room was nearly silent, only murmurs between club-goers and clinking of glasses to be heard, but he still raised his voice to be audible to everypony present. “I understand this facility is frequented by one DeeJay Pon-Three,“-pleasebetherightwaytosayit-“could anypony be so kind as to point me in her direction?”

Long silence, apart from slightly louder murmurs and worried looks. It probably didn’t help that Blueblood gained entry through vague intimidation.

Just as he opened his mouth to say something reassuring, though truth be told ‘there’s nothing to worry about’ was rarely a calming phrase, a new song started up, it’s volume amplified by the preceding silence. He looked around to see everypony returning to what they’d been doing, as if he’d simply ceased to exist. Before he had time to be offended by this possible rudeness, a loud thud sounded from directly in front of him. Eyes immediately drawn forward, he was face to face with a pony of exactly the description he’d heard of the infamous punk pony.

Her face, though difficult to read through her spectacles, showed a toothy little grin, head gently bobbing to the beat of the noise assaulting the room. Had she been on the ceiling…? The moment he began to look upward to see what she might have been hanging from, she spoke.

“Yo, ’sup?”

He cleared his throat. “DJ PON-3?”

She chuckled. Blueblood couldn’t discern whether that meant he was pronouncing it wrong or not. “Name’s Vinyl Scratch, most just call me Vinyl. So what’s this about?”

Her head didn’t stop bobbing the entire time she spoke, her voice slightly coltish, but laid-back. It was odd, but told him he had the right pony. Just when he opened his mouth to speak, she held up a hoof.

“Wait! Noisy out here, back room, follow me!”

With that, she wrapped a forehoof around one of his and almost literally dragged him across a busy dance floor and through a door to a smaller area, thankfully quieter and better-lit. Turning to face him, her smile had disappeared, replaced with an almost angry look, and her head wasn’t bobbing anymore. “Alright, what’s goin’ on? One of your noble friends ask you to shut this place down? Get rid of the ‘blight on their perfect city’? We got every right to do whatever in here so-“

He held up a hoof. “Please, calm down.”

Vinyl’s shoulders seemed to lose some tension, but her face was still somewhere between defensive and enraged. Paperwork, she thought, I bet this is about paperwork, some form I forgot to fill out right, something that didn’t get signed enough times, and they sent the snootiest stallion in the city to go all rules-are-rules on us! Think, Vinyl, think! She figured she had kept her cool well enough to stop anypony watching from freaking out as much as she was inside. The prince, they sent the bucking PRINCE!! Somepony seriously wants this place closed for good... She wondered if it had been some noble she or one of the other regulars had offended, if the building was just in the way of somepony’s pet project in city renovation, or if Club Canterlot was ‘an affront to Her Highness’ again. Celestia herself had visited once, and even if she didn’t stay long, she was totally having fun! It didn’t matter, she’d dealt with stuff like this before, always kept the music playing, and she’d deal with it now, it was just a matter of finding out exactly why he’d showed up and-

Blueblood was smiling. “I understand you’re the sort of pony that gets involved in all manner of inane, possibly dangerous antics every now and then?”

Vinyl could only tilt her head quizzically.

“Rumors of a surprisingly large band of foals in windigo suits being led through the streets on Nightmare Night to ‘pillage for candy’, as they were apparently instructed to shout and howl to every residence they stopped at, a much bigger ‘windigo’ playing eerie music nearby as they went?”

It was just a little fun for Nightmare Night, she thought, not like anypony got hurt.

“Tales of a certain unicorn mare sliding down the steepest street in the city in a ‘borrowed’ large serving tray that went missing from a royal banquet?

Oh, come on, those things look like they’re made for riding on!

“And I heard something about a fully-functioning noise cannon?”

Vinyl grinned, worries about impending bureaucratic doom momentarily forgotten. “Bass cannon!” Got the idea from Pinkie Pie during that Changeling attack… Good times!

The prince smiled amicably. “Then you’d know how to help somepony in search of excitement?”

After holding perfectly still for a moment, Vinyl blushed. “W-woah, hey, I know you might’a heard some rumors, but I’m NOT that kinda mare-"

Blueblood, also turning faintly red, shook his head. “No, no, not like that, adventure! Something senseless that might even get me seriously injured!”

The DJ was speechless.

“You know, like, uh…” He looked around, spying a slightly faded poster on a nearby wall sporting a white unicorn stallion with a wild red mane, one hoof on a microphone, the other extended to the sky, adorned with a spiked hoofband as his face depicted equal parts rage and exhilaration. Perhaps just madness. “Something this fellow might do?”

Vinyl regarded the figure with quiet awe before looking at Blueblood. “…F-Pain?”

“Pardon?”

She nodded toward the poster, her voice surprisingly quiet, almost reverent. “F-Pain, guy’s a rock legend, probably the one who founded this place back in the day… And…” That toothy little grin of hers returned. “You wanna do something like what he usually did?”

He nodded cautiously.

Her grin widened considerably before she whispered. “Awesome!”

---

Standing by the castle gate the next morning, Blueblood thought back to just what the hay had happened with Vinyl. All the barely-contained aggression she’d held towards him seemed to vanish under her excitement at whatever scheme she’d cooked up moments after looking at that poster. She was barely coherent as she and her range of excited hoof gestures told him she’d not only help him, but ‘make a callback to the golden age, Canterlot-style!’ She’d told him to meet her here around 10:00 A.M. for phase one of Operation Hit The Town, Going Full-Blast.

While he pondered the necessity of such a long title, he noticed the guard nearby was watching him suspiciously. Making eye contact, the well-armored pegasus spoke, face expressionless and voice deadpan. “Going out for cake again, Your Highness? Nice of you to try when they’re open.”

Blueblood, knowing full-well what he was referring to, rolled his eyes, tone slightly mocking. “Yes, I thought I’d try again while The Guard isn’t collectively out to lunch this time.”

The guard sighed. “I told you, we were patrolling the city as normal, your little chase scene went in between our routes at the perfect timing that nopony on duty saw anything but the confused ponies that saw you and that photographer.”

The prince was feeling too indignant to ask whether or not they’d actually done anything about the mare that chased him through town with a whip, but it soon didn’t matter, as he saw Vinyl Scratch trotting casually toward the castle gate.

When only about a meter away, she waved a hoof, grinning as he guessed she did any time she wasn’t getting angry at nobleponies. “Yo Princey, wuddup?”

Not paying any mind to the overly casual greeting, he gave small nod. “Good morning. You said there was a plan of some sort?”

She beamed. “Operation Hit The Town, Going Ful-“

“Yes, yes,” he interrupted, “I’m afraid I’ll need some details.” He knew it wasn’t polite to interrupt somepony else speaking, no matter how often it was happening to him as of late, but if last night was any indication, it might have been in his best interests to keep her speaking only when necessary. Luckily, Vinyl didn’t seem to mind.

She laughed, taking a step closer and wrapping a foreleg around his neck. “Awright, see, we’re gonna need a suit,” She began leading him through the castle gate, paying no mind to the fact that he was in fact, already wearing a suit, and eyeing her somewhat warily, “where do you keep your really spiffy stuff…?”

As the fairly reknowned punk pony and notoriously stuck-up prince made their way into the royal palace, close as old friends with no visible objection from either, the guard Blueblood had been talking to watched in silence, mouth agape at what he had just seen. Certain the gate could take care of itself for a minute, he shot off, somepony had to warn the Princesses…

---

“Here we are,” the Prince said proudly with a flourish, “the best-tailored suits in all of Equestria!”

Vinyl, looking over the variety of insanely expensive outfits in the prince’s closet, only shook her head a little. “Nah.”

Blueblood was speechless.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong,” She said apologetically, “They’re nice an’ all, it’s just…” She held out her forehooves in a vague, wavy kind of way for a moment before looking at him with a little frown. “Not it, y’know?”

Blueblood was a little irked, for a short list of reasons. “I very much don’t,” he said, fighting to keep from gritting his teeth at the mare who would dismiss the highest degree of clothing available, “perhaps you could clarify?”

Vinyl nodded a little. “Well, the look F-Pain was rockin’ was like, frillier, with ruffly things, even the cravat. You got anything, like…” She made little wavy gestures with a forehoof, “Ruffly?”

Blueblood, while faintly surprised she knew what a cravat was, was fairly certain he knew what she was talking about now, but it seemed… Off, somehow. He gave her a nod and a ‘follow me’ gesture before leading her to one of the old storage rooms.

---

“Alright,” he said a little exasperatedly, “here we are!” He pointed to a large trunk in the dark, dusty room of embroidered, though long-untouched boxes. Vinyl approached, rubbing a hoof on the surface to brush off the layers of dust.

“’Prince Blueblood the 50th’…” She gave him a confused sideways glance. “They number you guys? Are you like, cloned every generation to keep a unicorn with the royal blood around, just in case’a some ancient mojo that needs it for a world-saving super spell or something?”

Prince Blueblood the 52nd could only sputter for a moment. “I, wha, c-clone, what, I don’t even, no! What in the world gave you such an idea?!”

She shrugged, completely at ease. “I’unno, just seemed likely. What’s the number for then?”

Composing himself a bit, the prince cleared his throat to invoke a more dignified tone to answer this time. “The Royal Line of Blue stretches back almost a thousand years to Blueblood the 1st, we have been in the service of Her Royal Highness since before the Princess lived in Canterlot. I am Blueblood the 52nd, we are about to abscond with a possession of my deceased grandfather, Blueblood the 50th.” He gave her a quick, searching look, realizing he had to lower his muzzle again to see her barely containing laughter. “…Does that clear things up at all?”

She smirked. “You work hard to memorize that, Number Fifty-Two?”

It proved contagious. “All but the last part, that was sortof made up on the spot.”

Things were silent for a few seconds before they both started laughing uproariously. Opening the trunk when both caught their breath, the pair of unicorns saw several old, intricate, and well-preserved coats. All of them were the sort of old-fashioned that today, and likely even back then, one would wear if they simply wished to ooze a sense of superiority, to not so much as give anypony less than the princess herself, as there was only one back then, the time of day, each and every one no doubt worth a fortune.

Ruffly, too.

One such coat stood above the rest in terms of being the most overdone, outrageous, and honestly somewhat silly-looking suit either of them had ever seen. Being Canterlot ponies, this was indeed saying something. It had everything one could feasibly sew onto a suit and more, ribbons, tassels, buttons, and of course, ruffles where there absolutely didn’t need to be any, with needlessly intricate patterns woven into every square inch. On the back was a strange mass of curved wires resembling a model of the solar system complete with large gems cut into perfect spheres to serve as the planets, somehow set in such a way that the wearer’s movement wouldn’t be hampered in the slightest. No one part of the outfit was less garish and indulgent than any other, the thing positively sang ‘Look at me, I make Celestia look like a pauper!’

Vinyl nodded her head looking at their choice, the prince faintly ashamed of himself for letting the thought that she was planning to steal these suits for a quick bit enter his head. “Righteous… How’d you know there’d be a get-up like this in that box, though? It was the first one we checked!”

Blueblood chuckled. “Auntie used to tell me stories of my grandfather, how he was the ‘stuffiest, snobbiest, most pretentious pony’ she’d ever known.” Celestia being a Canterlot pony for a good many centuries, this too was indeed saying something. “I figured if anypony would have the sort of attire you were looking for, it would be him...” He tilted his head a little, looking at Vinyl. “Now what are we doing with it?”

Vinyl beamed again.

---

Standing atop a large parade float that looked like a dragon, the head and wings stretching out as though it were swooping through the skies, adorned with heavy speakers and a microphone, Blueblood was a little unsure of how he’d gotten into this situation. He was wearing a suit it had taken the two of them over 45 minutes to figure out how to put on properly, and Blueblood had worn some perplexingly complicated suits before!

The float itself stood waiting at the top of a long, gently inclined road around the back of the city, hardly anypony to be seen as the… Whatever they were doing was prepared. He called out to Vinyl, who was apparently rigging up wires to something on the back of the float.

“Where exactly did you acquire this thing...?”

She called back over her shoulder. “I know a guy!”

“Fair enough… So what are we doing again?”

Apparently finishing up whatever she had been doing -or maybe not, but oh well- Vinyl leapt towards the prince, landing just next to him on the top of the Float-Dragon’s large, synthetic head. Grinning, she put a hoof around his neck. “Awww yea, here we go! Ok, when I was a little filly, my mom brought me to this hoofball game-“

“That’s a sport?”

She shrugged. “I’unno, they use hammers and stuff. Anyway, for the halftime show there was this colt, dressed in a ruffly old coat on a wicked lookin’ float singing his heart out about…” She scratched her head with a hoof, jostling her glasses slightly, “Something, that’s not important, the important thing is it. Was. Awesome!” She let go of him, using her hooves for emphatic gestures. “The music, the noise, the spirit! It was so intense, I got my cutie mark just watching it!”

Blueblood raised an eyebrow at this, but she went on.

“Then, mom told me after the game that if I liked it so much, there was a stallion who made heavy, rockin’ music like that and that what we saw at the game was probably a homage to him; F-Pain!” Her smile, he was certain, couldn’t get much wider. The best word he could find for her demeanor at the moment was ‘fangirlish’. It was a good word when describing some who came to see Celestia in person for the first time. “I listened to all his stuff, and been livin’ the dream every day since then! I don’t usually play F-Pain’s work at the club,” she added with a slight frown, “times change an’ all, but still, the spirit lives on! Today!” She pointed a hoof directly at the slightly confused noblepony. “Through you!”

“…Come again?”

She nodded, shifting into the consistent head-bob-and-grin combo he’d first seen her with. “I’ll supply the tunes, you sing something from the heart, we’ll Hit The Town, Full! Blast!”

Blueblood was pretty sure he understood now, F-Pain had done something like this decades ago, they were going to replicate the deed by riding a float with a fierce-looking dragon on it, blaring aggressive music, down the street as he sang in place of the legendary musician. So that’s why she wanted to dye my mane orange! Blueblood had, of course, vehemently rejected the idea, no matter how many times F-Pain supposedly dyed his from concert to concert. Luckily, Vinyl remembered F-Pain had gone blonde a few times, so she let it slide.

So there he stood, dressed in the most unbelievably, indescribably elaborate, showy suit he’d ever worn, borrowed without asking from a royal storage room, next to a crazy pony whose heart and soul was apparently noise, on a possibly stolen parade float equipped with speakers so as to broadcast their madness for several blocks, and they’d be riding it straight through the middle of the city, the suit obscuring his cutie mark and easily-washed warrior-pattern facepaint he’d been coerced into wearing the only things that might keep his own identity secret in all this. It was a slim chance that he wouldn’t be at all recognized, but after the Photo Finish incident, he wasn’t sure what kind of a reputation he had at this point. Vinyl, apparently long past caring what anypony might have had to say about her, was naked apart from her violet shades.

I think that sums up the situation…Vinyl hopped to the top of the float, where he guessed she was somehow controlling it from. The music started and the float began to move, Blueblood grinned.

Bring it on!

As the music picked up and ponies started poking their heads out of windows, the float approached more populated streets, which the prince, taking hold of the microphone telekinetically, took as his cue. Blueblood didn’t normally get involved when ponies burst into spontaneous musical numbers, but at that moment, there was a rush as more and more eyes rested on him in his grand, but impractical attire atop the synthetic monster, the music flowing into his senses like an adrenaline rush entering through his ears. From the heart, she said…

He could feel it, knew just the thing that’d been bouncing around in the walls of his mind, aching for release at just this moment, and started to sing, his voice just as aggressive as the music itself.

You will never escape their sight,
Watching you in the dead of night,
They rest in the shadows, maybe trees,
But they’re always watching you and ev-er-y pony!
They’ll follow you forever, silent, and unseen,
And when they pounce you’ll not have the time to scream!

Vinyl sat grinning ear to ear atop the float, feeling the same flow as Blueblood and much more familiar with it. She had no trouble joining in, even if she had no idea what he was singing about. She kept her voice eerie, but loud enough to be heard. This wasn’t her usual style, but she’d sung along to enough ‘creepy-vibes’ songs to get a feel for them.

You wait just a minute, when you’re all alone past dark,
And if you are not so careful, your neck will be their mark!
These creatures are always hungry too,
And they need to EAT just like you ponies do…

Oh, run for your life, but don’t hope to hide,
These creatures have a one-track mind!
Of all the beings that they could haunt,
It always seems to be ponies that they want!
Ev-ry night! They follow you and wait,
And one wrong move may be what seals your fate!

It was roughly at this point that the prince really started to get into the swing of things, starting with his head, mane following the motion. Vinyl, riding the float like she were on top of the world, moved her head and forelegs with the rhythm.

They’re stalking shadows in the night, tracking you by the smell of fright,
They won’t lose you, far or wide,

You see one coming, you’d better run inside!
They look, like ponies, they’re almost kin,
But getting too close, may just DO YOU IN!

If you can fly, they will fly much faster…
To turn your back, would be a disaster!

Among the crowds of confused/terrified nobleponies, not sure which part of the whole spectacle to be the most alarmed at, gathering in the streets were two that hadn’t made much progress in their quest of climbing the social ladder, but managed to hold onto their lot in life here in the city. Right now, however, the pair were having second thoughts about remaining in Canterlot. The two unicorns, a light-yellow mare with a faintly violet and white-streaked mane and a ruffly-maned grey stallion, stared in shock at the passing spectacle before the mare, Upper Crust, spoke.

I don’t know what this is about,
But it seems something dreadful’s out!

Jet Set followed his wife, as always.

I second that, we must take care,
These monsters could be anywhere!

It comes down, to just one simple thing,
When they pounce you won’t have time to scream!

Blueblood, Vinyl, and a dozen or so ponies now marching near the float as it moved through the middle of Canterlot’s most populated areas all sang in unison for a time.

In the night, in the night,
You cannot escape their sight!
In the night, in the night,
You cannot escape their sight!
In the night, in the night,
You cannot escape their sight!

Vinyl waved her forelegs in a grand, sweeping motion over the crowd, which immediately fell silent, leaving Blueblood to finish the song. He would never know how she did this.

It comes down, to just one simple thing,
When they pounce you won’t have time to scream!

The float continued its journey, everypony on the streets, even those that sang along, now standing silent as the music faded out, as if trying to decide whether or not that had just happened. Blueblood turned around to look at Vinyl, who sat on her haunches atop the float, gaze directed at the sky with an ear-to-ear grin plastered on what he could see of her face. “What do we do now?”

She didn’t seem to hear him. Shifting his gaze to the streets for a moment, he caught sight of a pair of golden-armored pegasai flapping toward them. Oh, he thought, I see how it is! Crazy ponies can run rampant and do what they like with the royal family, but when they’re conscripted to help us, it’s a crime! He figured what he was doing had to be illegal on some level, but there was no sense in coming this far just to call it quits when the authorities arrived. Besides, he was still just a little sore about nopony coming to his aid when he was being chased the other day and wanted to stick it to The Guard in a way other than some bureaucratic string-pulling. “Vinyl,” he practically barked, “how do we make this thing go faster?”

That seemed to get her attention. “Huh?” Her gaze returned to earth and the pony on the fake dragon’s head. “Faster…?”

With that, the float seemed to pick up speed, the guards flying closer having to hasten their pursuit to keep up. Blueblood grinned, impressed. “That’s it? You just say ‘faster’? That’s quite the application of magi-“

Vinyl shook her head, whatever high she’d attained from the musical number just moments ago wearing off. “Nah, man, I got no control of this thing.” She glanced to the sides of the float from where she was. “Wonder why it’s startin’ to move… so…”

She faced forward, looking right behind the prince as her sentence trailed off and he could tell even through her glasses that her eyes were wide with surprise. Turning around to see the source of her concern, the float rapidly accelerating, he noticed that the float was now headed down what was likely the steepest road in the city, avoided by carriage drivers at all costs. This would be the second time Vinyl had ridden down this particular slope at break-neck speeds.

The two of them could see the road seemed to end at a construction site, metal and stone strewn about in a manner not at all welcoming of high-velocity ponies or their dragon float. The part that most made Blueblood feel something akin to the rush he’d had when sword-fighting with Trixie the first time, however, was the long, wooden slab inclined in just such a way as to form a ramp that would lead them straight off a cliff. A very, very, very, high cliff. Why the capital of Equestria had been placed in such a precarious position to begin with, he would later have to ask Celestia.

“Hey, Princey?” Vinyl’s face showed a wide, though nervous grin, more fear in her voice than she might have liked to admit. “I know this seems like a pretty cool way to die, but we’re a both a little young!”

He looked back, trying his hardest to smirk. “I concur, it’s far too early to give up, don’t you think?”

She returned his not-quite confident grin as best she could with the wind rushing into her face. “Right!” Glancing ahead, she got a good look at the construction site they were hurdling towards, the guards nowhere near fast enough to catch up with them now. “Up ahead, see those two stacks of bricks?”

Blueblood glanced where Vinyl pointed a hoof, seeing a few tons of brick set in two piles spaced several meters apart. He nodded an affirmative to Vinyl.

“If we can steer this thing just right, the wings on the float should hit the bricks and stop the float. We’ll probably get thrown off, but the dirt’s gotta be softer than the dirt about a mile down, right?”

He winced, not fond of getting filth on his pristine coat for any reason, but it certainly sounded more appealing than being scraped off the ground with a spatula. Perhaps most of it will stick to this ludicrous suit instead? “Alright,” he said, “how do we steer?”

Vinyl grinned, actual confidence in her voice this time as her horn lit up. “Easy! We magic the wings to bend right and shift the direction, just like real ones!”

Together, they each gripped a wing telekinetically and pulled or pushed the protruding false limbs, slowly arcing the direction of the float. Unfortunately for Vinyl, having chosen to sit on the highest point on the float left her roughly at the altitude above the street clotheslines are often hung, and she was far too preoccupied with the wing she was moving to take notice of the one rapidly getting closer. With a startled cry, she hit it, the momentum spinning her several times and sending various articles of damp clothing to the ground below as she was quickly tangled in the line, eyes spinning in their sockets.

Unfortunately for Blueblood, he was still on a speeding float about to crash into a construction site if he didn’t correct its course quickly. Mustering all the power he could in his horn, he pulled on the wing he’d been gripping before to finish angling it as Vinyl had suggested. The float arched, slooooowly turning as it very rapidly closed in on the bricks. Blueblood’s eyes were wide, adrenaline coursing through him as he waited to be flung from the float and bounced off the ground like a ball.

He heard a tearing sound. The float didn’t even slow down. Whipping his head backward, he saw the wings lying on the ground, having been torn clean off from the impact with the stacks of bricks.

Oh. He thought.

The front of the float sped on for a second or two before colliding with some large, metal tubes that had been placed at the edge of the cliff past the brick stacks, crushing the dragon’s synthetic head and sending Blueblood, who hadn’t so much as been holding onto anything, careening over the edge. Looking down, he had only one thought as he gazed to the ground very, very far below, sailing further from the safety of Canterlot with each passing instant.

“I’m pretty high up right now…”

He fainted in mid-air.

Author's Notes:

This is probably my favorite chapter of the story, so I'm hoping the niggling voice in the back of my head that says 'the lyrics weren't altered enough to be acceptable' is just suspicion. I know what to replace the song with if it's not allowed, but it's so much less fun that way. I actually headbanged along when the writing was done. :D

A cravat is a fancy neck ruffle thing worn in a man’s coat. From what I understand, people don’t really wear them at all these days. Old-timey fanciness, I think.

I picture Vinyl as having the Nowacking voice. I know it’s annoying at first, but so’s Pinkie Pie, and I find both can grow on you. ^^

Next Chapter: Chapter 8: Landing Estimated time remaining: 2 Hours, 45 Minutes
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