Of all the nations on the planet, from the Griffon Empire and the Changeling Hives, to the Minotaur cities and the Zebra nomads, the musicians of Equestria are of a special, unique caliber.
The bond a musician shares with their instrument is a sacred, intimate one. The musician knows the ins and outs of their companion, and the music that results of such a partnership is nothing short of divine.

Vinyl Scratch, one such musician, knows her turntables by heart. She's memorized every record she spins on her silver instrument, and she knows every little quirk, twist, and bump the needles make as she mixes her tracks.

Familiar though she may be with her instrument, Vinyl Scratch has one other thing memorized: Her friend, Octavia. She knows every one of her friend's numerous lectures backwards and forwards, and sorts them in order of seriousness, most of her lengthy monologues about music ranking rather high on the list. Lately, she's been hearing a lot of #73, a rant Vinyl had nicknamed 'Why Almost All of the Other Members of My Orchestra are Horrible Ponies'.
As she walks home from a gig, she makes a mental note to visit the cellist; if Octavia needed her, she'd be there for her.
But first, a quick drink.

"Evenin'." the bartender, a long-time friend of the DJ, calls from across the mahogany counter. as Vinyl enters the bar. "The usual?"

Vinyl smiles, nodding at the stallion. As he prepares her drink, Vinyl sits at the counter, watching the small, magical screen that displays the current day's news. At the moment, Vinyl herself is displayed, being interviewed by a peppy unicorn. A small Magi-Write pad rests next to Vinyl, and she glances at it occasionally, nodding or shaking her head each time. For every nod, Vinyl hefts the pad and her magic darts across it, writing cobalt-blue words across the surface.

The pad, a new invention patented by Princess Twilight Sparkle, allows ponies like her - ponies who can't speak - to finally voice their thoughts.

It isn't Vinyl's fault she's mute. She's been examined by doctor after doctor, and every one's found the same thing; Vinyl's vocal chords are fine. Something else prevents the DJ from speaking; some sort of mental block or psychological condition. Unfortunately for her...

"DJ Pon-3." the interviewer says, ending Vinyl's reverie. "Rumor has it there's a new dubstep artist edging in on your turf. Tell me; what do you think of 'Deadpon3'?"

Vinyl watches as the Vinyl on the screen glances at her pad, nods, picks up the thing, and writes.

'His music rocks.' Vinyl writes.

"Really!? You're not afraid of him stealing your throne as Queen of Dubstep?"

'What throne? I just make music that sounds cool to me. He makes music that sounds cool to me. This isn't some kind of competition.'

The interview stretches on, until, at last, the unicorn asks a question that makes both Vinyls wince.

"Last one before I go:" the interviewer chirps. "Do you have any tips for the fillies and colts out there who're looking to get into the music industry?"

'Yeah.' the televised Vinyl writes, face unreadable. 'If you're looking into playing Classical for a living, don't. The industry's dumb, it's cutthroat, and it's petty.'

The interviewer stops walking, and there's a silence.

'Right now,' Vinyl writes. 'There are three kinds of music in Canterlot: Show tunes, Classical, and Dub. Find something new and sell it as hard as you can. That's what I did, and I've got it made now.'

With that, the screen switches to a still image of a cello and the words 'Grand Canterlot Orchestra - Position Available! Apply now!'

Ugh. Why did she have to blurt that out?
It was true - Octavia was constantly complaining about how self-obsessed everyone around her seemed - but Vinyl didn't have to put it so bluntly.

The drink slides its way over to Vinyl, and she stops it with a hoof, downing the thing in one go.

'Here's to the kids whose dreams I just crushed.' she thinks, scowling as the alcohol fills her with a bitter warmth.

"One a' those days, eh?" the bartender says sympathetically. Vinyl nods.

"It's the interview, isn't it?" another nod.

"Ye're thinkin' ye should stop usin' that pad, aren't ye?"

A third nod, and the bartender chuckles.

"It's gonna take a lil' bit of gettin' used to, that's fer sure." he says. "Comin' from a life of not talkin', suddenly findin' a tongue gets pretty complicated."

A fourth nod, then another chug of a second drink that slides her way across the bar.

Abandoned as a child, Vinyl was 'adopted' by the socialites of Canterlot, spending time with everypony who was anypony in the city. When they found out about her condition, the rich and powerful, however, followed her unknown parents' example; the filly found herself abandoned a second time. Fortunately for her, the less fortunate side of Canterlot took her in, and she learned many things.
She learned how to listen.
She learned how to work hard, and how to go without.
She learned how to hear the music in everything, from the noise of wagons to the drip-drip of water from a drainpipe.
And, most importantly, she learned how to get by.

Which was what made the whole 'Magi-Write pad' situation so confusing. After being accustomed to her inability to speak, Vinyl found it hard to filter her thoughts.

"Maybe ye should abandon the thing fer a while." the bartender says, cutting through Vinyl's reminiscence like a hot knife through memories. Vinyl looks up at him, an eyebrow raised behind her goggles.

"If ye don't like it, don't use it." the stallion continues. "We've gone yer whole life not knowin' what's goin' on in that head of yers; it ain't that big a deal if ye decide ta keep it that way."

Vinyl sighs, one of the few sounds she can make, and nods for the fifth time.

"'Nother drink?"

Vinyl shakes her head, standing. She's just buzzed enough to handle the rest of today; she still has to visit Octavia, and Tavi hates it when Vinyl shows up drunk. A trio of bits levitates themselves from Vinyl's saddlebag, but the bartender stops them with a wave of his hoof.

"Fer you," he says. "No charge."

Vinyl's glare sends the stallion chuckling.

"Ye should know me well 'nough by now." he says. "It's not 'cause you can't talk, Scratch. It's 'cause I like you. Have a nice night."

Vinyl rolls her eyes, smiling and putting the bits back.

As she trots through the streets, ponies glance her way, each of them no doubt wondering why she looks so familiar to them.
Vinyl grins, knowing that none of them know her; none of them see the world-renowned DJ in this exhausted-looking mare. The neon-striped mane of 'DJ Pon-3' is nothing like Vinyl's dark blue curtain of hair that falls down around her. The confident, borderline-arrogant smirk on Pon-3's face is nothing like the quiet, simple smile Vinyl wears.

She slowly leaves the main district of Canterlot and ventures through the suburbs. Her friend lives pretty far away from Vinyl, but the trip is always worth it.
As if on cue, Octavia's small, one-story house comes into view, and Vinyl sighs a happy sigh.

The door of the home swings open as Vinyl knocks, and a sudden thrill of apprehension runs through her. Something is wrong. She doesn't know what, but something is wrong.

She whistles for her friend, but there's no answer. She must not be home.
But, then, why was the door open?
And why did she feel so... Nervous?

Vinyl tentatively enters the house. It's dark, and the fire in Octavia's hearth is extinguished. The DJ shivers, and enters the small door that leads to the kitchen, finding nopony in the small, tile-lined room.
Only one room left; Octavia's bedroom.
Vinyl stands at the door and knocks, hesitantly at first, then harder, and - much like the front door - the bedroom door swings open, creaking long, loud, and slow as it reveals a grisly sight.

If Vinyl was best friends with her instrument, Octavia's was part of her. She used it as smoothly as one might lift a leg, with the familiarity one might have with walking. Playing Zeus, for Octavia, was as easy as breathing, and almost as mandatory.

Thus, as Vinyl's eyes adjust and she sees the splinters, the strings, the broken bow...
She sees her best friend's corpse on the floor.

A wordless scream erupts from Vinyl's throat, and she rushes forward, eyes wide. The light flicks on, a cobalt-blue flicker of magic facilitating the action, and cold, fluorescent light illuminates the scene all too clearly; Octavia's cello is broken, smashed; obliterated.

Vinyl knows.
Somehow, she knows that this had not been the work of one of Octavia's many rivals; a fellow competitor in an industry full of underhoofed ponies.
She knows, somehow, that the hooves that lovingly caressed Zeus's neck had been the ones to strangle it, holding it in a too-tight, frenzied grip as they swung him there, at the wall, leaving that dent, then at that spot, right there, splintering those pieces, then over there, where the neck finally gave out, and then...

Vinyl is crying. The tears run, unheeded, down her face as she slumps to the floor, a wail of grief tearing up through her throat, building up, until it breaks loose, billowing up through the air like smoke, stretched, distorted with emotion and despair, ripping through the evening light.

Vinyl lies there, weeping, as the door opens and hooves clip-clop rapid-fire through the house, heading straight for the room.

There's a gasp, and then the hooves slow.

"No." Lyra Heartstrings whispers. "No!"

She, too, sees exactly what happened, where each blow fell, where Octavia stood as she destroyed herself, obliterated part of her soul.

"Nononononononono..." Lyra stammers, her breathing quick and frightened. "Not Octavia. No. No!"

"What's the big deal?" Bon Bon's voice calls from the doorway. "It's just her instrument."

Vinyl stands, and before she quite knows what's happening she's leaning into Bon Bon's face, a murderous glare on hers.

"Down, Vinyl! She doesn't know!" Lyra says, panicked, and, after a long moment, Vinyl relents, sitting on her haunches, tears still streaming down her face.

"What was that about!?"

"You're not a musician, so you wouldn't understand." Lyra says. "Our instruments, they're more than just things we play, they're part of us. It's like we play a little bit of our soul every time we play our music. You know how I never let you touch my lyre?"

Bon Bon nods.

"Well, Octavia's cello was even more sacred to her than Apollo is to me." Lyra breathes. "And she killed him."

"You're acting like your instruments are... Alive, somehow."

Lyra nods, still taking in the gory display.

"And Octavia's gone." Lyra says.

"Vinyl!" the lyrist calls suddenly. "You know her better than I do. Go find her! If she's broken Zeus, chances are..."

Vinyl stands, nodding, before rushing out of the house.

"Man, this is gonna take a miracle." Lyra murmurs, turning to the remains of the cello.

The houses bleed past the DJ as she sprints, through the suburbs, past the bar, through the main district, past Canterlot Castle, and to a secluded park.
This was Octavia's favorite spot, and Vinyl knows every tree, stone, and pond in the place. As she dashes around the grassy area, a grey something brings her, and her search, to a halt.

Octavia is curled up under her favorite tree, bleeding from a hoof and sobbing uncontrollably.
Vinyl slowly approaches the cellist, a hoof outstretched.

"Go away, Vinyl." Octavia calls, voice strained. Vinyl's eyes narrow, and she takes another step toward her friend.

"Get away from here!"

Another step forward, and suddenly Octavia is there, eyes blazing, tears streaming down her face.

"Leave me!"

A hoof collides with Vinyl's face, and she flies backwards, jaw exploding with pain.
Slowly gathering her hooves under her, Vinyl stands, a cut mingling her blood with her friend's on her face.

As she approaches Octavia, the latter mare raises a hoof, and Vinyl takes the next strike in stride, barely shrugging at the force of Octavia's hoof, much weaker now.

"L-" Octavia begins, choking sobs edging the word out. "Leave."

Vinyl stands there, face-to-face with the broken musician, and says, in a voice raspy and dry from disuse, her first word.

"Never."

Octavia collapses, weeping, into Vinyl, and her friend holds her, rocking back and forth.
Hooves echo behind her, and a voice calls out.

"She found her!"

Bon Bon approaches the two cautiously, two ponies Vinyl barely recognizes flanking her.

"Ye gods..." one of them murmurs, a light-brown stallion with a snow-white mane. Frederic, Vinyl recalls. "Octavia!"

"Stay back." the other, a blue mare with a brown mane, says. That must be Beauty Brass. "She needs space."

The five stand still like this, until Vinyl's raspy, choking voice breaks the silence.

"She's hurt." the DJ says. "Get someone who knows how to fix her."

"Vinyl!?" the three spout at once, incredulous.

"Did I stutter!?" Vinyl yells. "Get help!"

The stallion dashes away, leaving the four mares standing there until he returns, another brown stallion in tow, this one with an hourglass cutie mark and a mane of darker brown, holding a medical bag.

"He says he's a doctor." the white-maned stallion says hurriedly.

"Among other things." the other says, slowly approaching the pair of musicians. "May I?"

"Octavia." Vinyl whispers, her voice hardly audible. "Someone's here to look at your hoof. Are you gonna let them?"

Slowly, imperceptibly, Octavia nods, and the doctor approaches slowly, holding the bleeding hoof and tending to the wound.

Once the mare's hoof is bandaged, Vinyl picks her up, her blue magic helping her to lift Octavia.

"I'm taking her to my place." Vinyl says. "Thanks for your help."

"Sh-Shouldn't you get your..." the stallion stammers.

"My what?"

"Your jaw. Shouldn't you get it checked out?"

"I'll be fine."

And with that, Vinyl leaves, Octavia in tow.

"Doc?" the mare says. "Is it just me, or was her..."

"Yeah." the stallion replies. "In three places. I'll follow them."

Vinyl trots, the lower part of her head bandaged and set in a splint, and sighs, a thrill of pain shooting up her jaw.

'It's funny, in a way.' she writes on her pad. 'I finally get my voice, and now I can't talk for a few weeks.'

"I don't know how you'll ever be able to manage it." Octavia snarks from beside her as the two trot through the streets of Canterlot. "I mean, it's already been a week, on top of - what was it? Oh, yes; your entire life."

Vinyl rolls her eyes, smiling at her friend, who offers a smaller, more subdued smile. Vinyl's smile isn't just at the joke; she's smiling for a different reason.
And, as the two approach Octavia's house and Octavia slows, Vinyl's smile only grows.

"I..." Octavia stammers. "I don't think I'm ready."

'You are.' Vinyl writes, giving her friend a reassuring hug. 'And I'm with you. You got this.'

Octavia swallows nervously and they both trot up to the door. Octavia slowly turns the knob and opens it, revealing a dark room.

"SURPRISE!"

Octavia jumps as the room lights up, a fire suddenly blazing brightly in the hearth and the room filled with ponies; a hanging banner reads 'Welcome Back, Octavia!' in large, purple print.
Once the shock settles, she turns to Vinyl, an accusatory look on her face.

"You knew." she says simply.

'Why do you think I stopped us at three different bow-tie stores, Tavi?' Vinyl replies. 'You know I don't wear bow-ties. They needed time.'

Octavia steps in, greeting her friends as they gather around her, mingling with them as Vinyl trots beside her.

'There's cake over there.' Vinyl writes. 'And-'

"Don't you dare." Lyra says, her magic scribbling out Vinyl's. "That's supposed to be a surprise."

Vinyl rolls her eyes, and she and Octavia join the others in a night of revelry.

"Are you ready?" Lyra says, as Octavia stands, hoof raised and trembling, at the door to her room.

'She totally is.' Vinyl replies.

"Stop speaking for me." Octavia says, giving Vinyl a pointed look. "Especially when you're not even speaking."

'Just open the door, Tavi. I promise it won't be that bad.'

"But-"

'But nothing. Open the door, or I'll do it for you, and shove you in there.'

Octavia closes her eyes, takes a breath, and slowly the door swings open. Shocked gasps emanate from the gathered throng.

"Lyra!" Bon Bon gasps. "You're a miracle worker!"

The mentioned mare chuckles, and Octavia opens her eyes.

Zeus stands in the middle of the room, whole and gleaming in the electric light. Octavia blinks, disbelief flooding her. For a moment, she wonders if she'd really broken it, but then she spots the dents in the walls where the cello had landed, and her eyes only grow wider.

"You fixed him?" she asks quietly.

"Yup." Lyra says, winking at her.

"But I destroyed him!"

"He was only mostly broken, Tavi." Lyra replies, hugging her friend close. "And if something's mostly broken, that means it's also partially fixed. And I can work with partially fixed."

Octavia slowly walks up to the cello and rests her hoof on it. A small 'thrum' echoes through the room, and an invisible breeze ruffles the manes of all present.
Smoothly, with the confident air that only years of practice can grant, Octavia picks up the cello and begins to play.
As she plays, the bow running up and down the strings, the sound of another cello joins in, then another, and soon seven cellos are playing, redoubling the melody, carrying it, buoying the assembly up in the music before letting them down softly on a tide of sound.

'Only eight?' Vinyl writes.

"I'll admit; I'm a bit rusty, and the cello is new." Octavia said. "Jupiter and I will learn."

"Okay, what is it with you and your instruments?" Bon Bon asks. "Why do you give them weird names?"

"You take that back!" Beauty Brass protests. "There is nothing wrong with Athena!"

"And Hephaestus is not a 'weird' name!" Frederic adds. "It's dignified!"

The group turns to Vinyl, who shrugs.

'I guess Odin isn't the most common name for an instrument.' she writes. 'But Odin's not a classical instrument, so...'

"You musicians are all hopeless." Bon Bon says, smiling and shaking her head. Octavia coughs, and they all turn to her.

"I...' Octavia says, swallowing before continuing on. "I feel I should tell you about that night."

The others settle down, and Octavia slowly, hesitantly, begins her tale.

"That afternoon, I was called in to my conductor's office, and what I saw inside shocked and appalled me. He was..."

Octavia shudders, swallows, looks down, swallows again, and continues.

"He was... Engaging in... Something. With another member of the orchestra."

There was a gasp.

"He told me he wanted me to join in, and..."

Octavia stops.

"The things he told me he wanted me to do were horrible. I, of course, refused, and he told me if I did, he'd ensure I never played professionally again. And so..."

'No.' Vinyl writes, shocked.

"I ran." Octavia finishes. "I ran so far away. And then, that evening, when I went to tell one of the other conductors about it, he..."

Octavia is crying now, tears streaming down her face as she goes on.

"He refused to even listen to me! None of them did! I went to every orchestra leader, every conductor, every composer in all of Canterlot! And they all refused to hear me. He was right; I was never going to play professionally ever again. My future was ruined. My life was ruined."

"A-And so I went home, and I was- I was just so angry, at myself and at the conductor and at Canterlot, that..."

She mimed smashing something against the floor.

"Zeus didn't go out without a fight; one of the splinters dug itself into my hoof, and that's when I realized what I'd been doing. I ran again, and everything between then and waking up the next day is a blur. I remember Vinyl, though; I remember striking her, and I remember her speaking, and..."

Octavia opens her mouth, but Vinyl's hoof stops her.

'Don't you /dare/ apologize, Octavia!' she writes. 'Don't you even /think/ about doing it!'

"But-"

'But freaking nothing, Tavi.' Vinyl replies, anger in her eyes. 'The only thing you did wrong was hurt Zeus. I don't care if you broke my jaw. I don't care if you'd broken my spine! You're still my friend, and I am /not/ going to let my friend tear herself up like this! Do you understand me!?'

Octavia nods.

'Good!' Vinyl writes. 'Now gather all your sharpest kitchen knives; I need to go murder a conductor.'

"Vinyl!"

'What? It was a joke.'

"Seriously, though." the brown stallion from earlier interjects. "The conductor's boarding a train for Detrot in four hours, so if you're going to bring him in, do so now."

"Let's go!" Lyra shouts. "For justice!"

The ponies rush from the building, leaving Vinyl, Octavia, and the stallion behind.

"You weren't invited, were you?" Octavia asks the stallion.

"Consider the cake my service fee." the stallion replies, grinning and taking a slice.

CANTERLOT TIMES

Canterlot Conductor Convicted!

This afternoon, Even Tempo, a prominent Canterlot conductor, was arrested and charged with assault, rape, and blackmail after a member of his orchestra appeared at a Canterlot police station and revealed to the authorities exactly what the conductor had been doing to his musicians.

The ensuing trial lasted several hours. During the proceedings, several of the orchestra's members, headed by an Octavia Melody, came forward and testified, and the tale they wove was grim; Even Tempo had been taking advantage of the mares under his jurisdiction for years, Octavia herself being the latest attempted coercion. Tempo had several other prominent conductors under his hoof, preventing the mares from getting help or escaping their situation. Tempo was convicted and sentenced to life imprisonment.

"This kind of thing has never happened before." Princess Celestia said following the trial. "But, to be honest, we should've seen it coming. Absolute power corrupts absolutely, and, at least in Canterlot, the conductor is the most powerful member of the orchestra. We're currently investigating other conductors, and I hope - for their sakes - that Even Tempo is simply an isolated case."

Even Tempo is currently being held in Canterlot Penitentiary, but plans are to move him to a maximum-security prison within the month.

Five Weird Ways To Slim Up For Summer

At that, Vinyl stops reading. Setting the newspaper down, she hugs her friend close.

"We did it!" she says, her voice still a harsh rasp. "We got 'im!"

"Yeah." Octavia said, holding up a letter and showing it to her friend. "And more."

Dear Octavia,

My heart goes out to you and your fellow musicians; what Even Tempo did makes my stomach turn and my blood boil. Don't worry about the 'promise' Tempo made; there's a place for you in the Royal Orchestra, and you are cordially invited to play at the Grand Galloping Gala every year. If there's anything else I can do to help you, don't hesitate to let me know. Thank you for your courage in coming forward; I, as well as all of Canterlot, owe you a great debt.

Sincerely,

Princess Celestia

P.S. Can you and Vinyl Scratch come to the castle at around noon tomorrow? My sister and I are in the market for musical tutors, and we happen to know a pair of brave, caring ponies whom we'd love to learn from.

"Ah, hel-" Vinyl starts, cut off by a look from Octavia.

"Heck* yeah!" Vinyl crows, and Octavia laughs, bumping her friend's hoof with her own.

Author's Notes:

I wrote this early in the morning, and I couldn't come up with a title, so I ued the one my friend suggested.

Hope you enjoyed the read!

RIP Zeus - Season 1-Season 5