Author's Notes:

Edited on 01 May 2016

Trixie Lulamoon, magician extraordinaire, is enjoying reading a review about her show in the New Yoke Times in the comfort of her easy chair in her show wagon. The wagon itself is nothing too fancy. It has the necessities for a small living quarter and enough space for her to store all of her eye-popping, jaw-dropping, all around entertaining equipment. Even with all of her fireworks, sparklers, smoke bombs, and random nick-knacks she still has enough room to move around comfortably.

Trixie snickers to herself as she reads the review. Whoever wrote the review is saying that it was one of the best show’s they had ever seen. The review loved everything about her presentation, especially with the third pony talk, and is hoping for more of her shows in the future. Trixie is barely able to keep her excited giggling in check as she uses her magic to carefully tear the article out and stick it in her stash of other articles praising her for her shows. After she stores the article, she notices another article titled “Gilda Grizelda Makes Fluttershy Cry!” with a black and white picture of a griffin trying to hide her face from the cameras.

Trixie shrugs and reads it because she really has nothing better to do, and besides, she needs to rest and what better way to put herself to sleep than by reading a boring article? Dragging the show wagon is strenuous work, even with some magic that lightens the load. However, being a traveling magician does have it perks, such as choosing one’s own schedule and having to pay no property taxes.

As Trixie suspected, the article is boring and more than likely a filler made from an intern, but right as she is about to toss it aside she notices one particular name. Twilight Sparkle.

Trixie’s eyes narrow and she leans in closer as if bringing her nose to the parchment will make her see Twilight. That mare that stole her future, and always ignored her whenever they passed by each other in parks or in other public areas or played stupid when she asked for help. The mare that got everything handed to her on a silver platter was now getting more attention than ever before.

First, taking her spot in Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. Something that the Lulamoon Family fought tooth and hoof to get... and something that she blew. Then being personally trained by Celestia herself while she gets stuck with the inept teachers. Add in the fact that magic comes so easy to Twilight that she is a literal physical representation of it while Trixie is but a traveling magician. A magician without a mother and a father who disowned her with all of her possessions in her cart.

Trixie scoffs and tosses the newspaper to the ground and folds her hooves across her chest to keep that pompously smug ass named Twilight out of her mind. If any pony deserves to be smug it’s Trixie! She built up everything herself! Nothing was handed to her on a silver platter!

“Stupid Twilight,” grumbles Trixie under her breath.

Then an idea strikes her, and with that idea comes a terrible grin. She will head over to Ponyville and prove to Twilight and all of Equestria that she, the Great and Powerful Trixie Lulamoon, is better than Twilight! She does have raw experience under her star studded cape while Twilight has, what, books?

Experience trumps paper, after all. Upstaging Twilight will be her greatest feat because if she can beat Twilight, then she can prove to everyone that she is the best and not some studious bookworm.

Trixie finds herself giggling and rubbing her hooves together at the thought of getting revenge on Twilight after all these years of shadowing her. It is going to be great to finally beat down Twilight and show her father that she is not a failure or a nobody. She can finally show everybody how great she really is!

During Trixie's internal rambling and day dreaming of her bright future, three unexpected knocks shake her door. Trixie glares at her cart entrance, wondering who would disturb her at such a late hour, and she huffs when the knocking continues. Finally, after a third round of knocking, she contemptibly approaches the door, and when she answers it she sees a worn out mare wearing a cheap saddle. The mare is panting heavily and dripping with sweat, but one thing that surprises Trixie to where she’s speechless is that the pony in front of her is one she has not seen in years.

“Ms. Aural?” says Trixie.

Ms. Aural flashes a tired smile and waves, and Trixie laughs and jumps out of the cart to hug the old mare.

“Ms. Aural, what a pleasant surprise!” says Trixie, squeezing the mare tight in her embrace.

Ms. Aural awkwardly returns the hug, and takes a deep breath when Trixie releases her, and gladly steps inside when Trixie offers her her home. Once inside, Trixie lets her sit on her chair while she hands her a cup of water. As Ms. Aural drinks the refreshing beverage, Trixie notices that she has not aged well. She has noticeable crows feet and her mane is frayed and graying, plus her once beautiful coat is fading. When Ms. Aural notices Trixie staring at her, she is quick to avert her eyes to her lovely stash of fireworks.

“It’s been a while, Trixie,” says Ms. Aural.

“Yes it has,” says Trixie with a small, nervous smile. She does not know what to say to her old friend or how they should begin catching up. It has been years since she saw a familiar face. Well a familiar face from her childhood anyway. Most of the familiar faces she has seen were magicians she upstaged trying to get her to work for them.

“I see you’ve made quite a bit of an impact,” says Ms. Aural, nodding towards the box of newspaper clipping.

Trixie chuckles nervously and uses her magic to close the box.

“Um, yeah, I guess you can say that,” she says. “So, you look... nice?”

Ms. Aural sighs. “There no need to pretend, Trixie, I know what I look like, and nice isn’t one of them.” Then she reaches into her saddle and pulls out an envelope with her mouth and stretches her neck to Trixie. “Thith ith for you.”

Trixie levitates the envelope out of Ms. Aural’s mouth and reads the sender's address. As soon as she sees who it is from she scowls and throws it the garbage can. Ms. Aural’s whole body droops as Trixie glares at her.

“Is this some kind of joke?” says Trixie.

Ms. Aural shakes her head quickly. “No, Trixie, your father gave me that note personally.”

“If he wants to talk to me he can find me himself!”

“But he told me that he needed to talk to you.”

“Oooh, so now father needs his disowned child? Why should I care what he needs? He never cared about me!”

Ms. Aural blinks tears out of her eyes as she looks down, sniffling. “Trixie, I know you are still hurt by what your father did...”

Trixie holds up her hoof. “You can stop right there, Ms. Aural. I don’t need your pity.”

“But, Trixie, if you’ve only seen what I have you would know he is not the same. I don't think he is well. I think he might be sick.”

Trixie stands up and points accusingly at Ms. Aural, making her shrink in her seat and whimper.

“How much did he pay you?” asks Trixie.

“N-nothing,” stammers Ms. Aural. “He-he begged me to find you.”

“How much?”

“He didn’t pay me anything.”

“How much!”

“Nothing! He paid me nothing!” Ms. Aural jumps to her feet, tears rolling down her cheek and breathing heavily. “He knew you wouldn’t give him a chance so he asked me to come to you in his place.”

“Maybe he should’ve thought about me not giving him anything before he disowned me! But I didn’t need him anyway!” Trixie waves her hoof around the cart at all of her possessions. “You see this? This was all me! I did this all by myself! He took away my home so I built a new one! He took away my fortune, so I made my own! He thought I was a failure, but I’m not!”

Trixie slams her hoof on the ground and points at an elaborate promotional picture that rolls down from the ceiling of herself, looking smug and ready to take on the world.

“I am not a failure!” yells Trixie with tears blurring her vision and soaking her cheeks. “I- I am not worthless! I am special! I am the Great and Powerful Trixie!”

Ms. Aural’s jaw drops and she shakes her head as she backs away from the picture. “Trixie, what happened to you?”

“I’ll tell you what happened,” sneers Trixie. “I, the Great and Powerful Trixie, proved to my father and all those mules at the Academy that Trixie is not stupid! They said that I couldn't be anypony because of some stupid disability, but I showed them! I showed all of them! And once I, the Great and Powerful Trixie, defeat Twilight Sparkle, all of Equestria will know that I am valuable!”

Ms. Aural stands up and looks at Trixie pleadingly. “Please, just read Eclipse's note. I'm begging you. He is not the same and he needs you, just as you need him.”

Trixie shoots a small bolt of lightning at the note, burning it, and all of the garbage with it, in a matter of seconds. While Ms. Aural watches the garbage burn, Trixie gets a menacing shadow cast over her as she glares at the old mare.

“I think you better leave,” says Trixie dangerously.

Ms. Aural opens her mouth to say something, but when Trixie uses her magic to open the door, she closes her mouth, nods, and quietly leaves. Trixie scoffs, slams the door shut when Ms. Aural is outside and then tosses water on the fire she made. It makes a hissing sound and smoke covers the interior of the cart, forcing her to open her door again. As the smoke escapes into the cool night, Trixie pokes her head out to make sure Ms. Aural isn’t anywhere to be seen. When she doesn’t see her anywhere she sniffles and goes back inside, but when she turns around she screams and jumps back.

“I hope this is a lesson for you,” says Custos, standing in the corner.

“Wha- How- What are you doing in my cart!” demands Trixie, horn glowing and ready to zap the intruder.

“It’s your dream, how I got in is entirely up to you.”

Trixie’s horn dies down and she sits down at her chair and flips open a newspaper to read any article that will distract her from the mysterious pony in her wagon. She is in no mood for arguing or his cryptic shenanigans, anyway.

Custos sighs and stands in front of Trixie. “You have a knack for driving away those who care about you.”

Trixie flips a page. “Trixie doesn’t need anypony. Trixie is doing fine all by herself.”

Custos silently scans the small living space. It barely has enough for her to sleep in and most of her possessions are for her to use for her shows. Nothing personal is found, except for her star studded hat and cape. Custos shakes his head and looks at Trixie, she’s still fighting to ignore him by using her newspaper.

“Do you really want to die alone?” he asks.

Trixie throws down her newspaper and stares hatefully at Custos. “I never said that!”

“You’re father believed he didn’t need anypony, and he was alone and dead before he was murdered.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!”

“It does when you understand that there is more than one way to die.” Then a glowing orb appears above his horn, blinding Trixie. “It’s time to wake up.”

Trixie jolts up in her bed, soaking in sweat and gasping for air. Her vision is fuzzy and spinning, and her hearing is muffled, but one thing she does notice is a voice being projected off of some speakers and someone sitting in the room with their back to her speaking into a microphone.

“...So, I hope that music woke you guys up, I know it worked miracles for me, especially after last night’s fiasco,” says the mare working the radio equipment. “Anyway, I looked in my trusty little hat and it said I should play a single by Shattered called ‘March into Nothing’. Bleak, I know, but I drew it from a hat, so don’t hate me for chance.”

Some electric guitars start playing over the speakers, and a few seconds in the singer, a stallion with a pleasant voice, starts singing some incredibly depressing lyrics. Trixie groans painfully and gingerly touches her horn, releasing a wince when her hoof brushes over the chip, which has some cheap gauze taped over it. She looks around the room she is in and instinctively scrunches her nose when she sees all kinds of stuff that point to a health hazard. There are empty bleach bottles, crushed lime, old food and bloody rags scattered all over the floor as well as empty sewing kits, used lottery tickets and a Mentally Inferior's Guide to Household Hospitals. However, despite being in the hazardous bedroom she is relieved that she did not wake up in a jail cell after nearly getting killed again. Or wake up dead.

Trixie groans quietly again and rubs her eyes, and while lowering her hoof she realizes that there is a colorful blob of subpar stitch jobs where she was shot, making her pale and want to puke. She looks all over her body and sees little stitches here and there that closed up scratches she didn’t even know she had, and every move is like a stapled thread pulling on her flesh. She really wants to cry.

“Well good morning, Princess, did you enjoy your nap?” says the mare from the room.

Trixie turns to the mare and her eyes bulge and her jaw drops as she stares at the pair of big red eyes the unicorn in front of her has. She has only seen red eyes like that on predators and pictures of albinos; both equally creepy.

"This is why I wear my sunglasses,” says DJ-Pon3 with a frown as she approaches Trixie.

She then levitates Trixie off of the cot and gently lowers her to the ground. Trixie has to sit because her legs give out almost immediately. It doesn’t take long to switch out the sheets and when that is done and over with, she levitates Trixie back on the cot and puts a new blanket over her before sitting in front of her, glaring.

“What? You’ve never seen an albino before?” says the DJ.

“No,” says Trixie shamefully, looking down and rubbing her hoof over her stitched up forearm.

The pale pony grins and lightly punches Trixie in the shoulder, making her wince. “Relax, I’m just messing with you. I know the chances of meeting a pony with my condition are slim to none. So, what do you think of your stitches?”

“You suck at stitching,” says Trixie with a weak smile.

“Well excuse me, Princess, but you’re the one that knocked on my door, bleeding all over the place with the EIB, the Guards and the griffins looking for you,” says the pale pony, completely missing Trixie’s playful tone.

Trixie closes her eyes and sinks in the cot, not wanting to remember that horrible night. Everything just suddenly crashed and burned with little to no warning. Sure she knew Lock was on to her, but him using a criminal organization to bring her down was just insane. And now, after getting betrayed by the EIB and Minty getting killed, here she is, dying in a radio station. She is hoping that this is all just a horrible nightmare, and she wants to cry because of the amount of pain she’s in, especially around her horn.

“Thanks for your help, DJ-Pon3,” says Trixie wearily, wanting to go back to sleep if it means escaping the agony.

“No problem, but you can just call me Vinyl or Vinyl Scratch. DJ-Pon3 is my work name,” says her rescuer.

Trixie smiles, but it goes away in an instant and she regrets shifting her position in search for a more comfortable one as pain takes over her whole body.

“By the way, you owe me,” says Vinyl Scratch.

Trixie shoots her a hostile glare. “What? What kind of rescuer tells the rescuee that you owe them?”

“The Canterlot Fire Department and Royal Guards do that with our tax money. As for you? You owe me bleach and a shitload of lime.”

Trixie stares at Vinyl Scratch with eyes wide open and shock and confusion all over her face. The DJ doesn’t want bits, or her to take out some competition, but bleach and lime instead? Now Trixie is really confused.

“Don’t you want bits instead?” asks Trixie carefully, and wincing when her body tells her that it was a mistake by the pain in her chest.

“I used all my lime and bleach to clean up your bloody trail and to keep those guys off of our back. And don’t even get me started on all the disinfectants I had to use on you and those threads.”

“Did you sleep?”

“On and off, but you kinda took my bed, covered it in blood, and then almost died on it, so I didn't sleep as well as I would have liked.”

Trixie is silent for a moment before another idea question pops into her mind.

“Hey Vinyl, how much of the trail did you... you know... clean up?” asks Trixie.

Vinyl Scratch grins. “Not too much. Just up to the nearest sewer cover. Then I popped that sucker off and ran back here. Oh man, If only I could see their faces now.”

Vinyl Scratch snickers and walks to her radio room when the music stops and is replaced with dubstep. A few seconds later, the dubstep stops and Trixie sees Vinyl take a quick swig of what looks like cider before speaking into her microphone.

“Good afternoon, Canterlot!” she says with all the charisma in Equus backing her. “I’m back from my break and I’m sure you guys are eager to hear about the amazing Vigilante. Well I got some news for you. It was Gilda and her griffins bribing two vans of EIB agents to get Canterlot’s hero!”

Vinyl Scratch smiles and winks at Trixie, and she groans and covers her eyes with her hooves, feeling nauseous.

“But don’t you worry, the Vigilante is alive and well! That’s right folks, the crooks lost her when she escaped to the sewers!” Vinyl Scratch chuckles. “Have fun down there, boys and girls, but you’ll never find her.”

Vinyl Scratch cackles and then says something about playing some music before Trixie blacks out.

When Trixie wakes up a few hours later, she’s greeted by something steamy and smelling like a slice of Paradise at the moment. She opens her eyes and sees Vinyl Scratch levitating a bowl of soup in front of her, and when she glances out the window she notices that it is almost evening. Then she looks at Vinyl Scratch and sees that she has a curious smile stretched across her face. A very curious smile. A smile that demands a story.

Trixie tries to grab the soup with her magic, but a sharp pain in her horn kisses that notion goodbye. So she takes it with her hooves, whimpering quietly, instead. Vinyl Scratch’s smile fades away and she sighs sadly as she looks at the ground.

“That really sucks about what happened to your horn. I don’t think you’ll be able to use magic to your full capacity ever again,” says Vinyl Scratch.

Trixie sniffles and sips the soup. As simple as it is, it does taste good, like a warm bowl of some much needed comfort.

“I was never good with magic to begin with, so its not much of a loss,” says Trixie.

“Bullshit,” snaps Vinyl. “That's like accepting having your eyes getting gouged out because you didn't have twenty twenty.”

Trixie makes no attempt at rebuking Vinyl. Instead, she silently sips her soup, not wanting to think or feel anything. She just wants to be a doll without any pain or emotions. At least then she will be loved and not hurt or betrayed by other toys.

“So, what happened over there?” asks Vinyl Scratch.

“What do you think? I got betrayed,” says Trixie tearfully. Then she sighs and puts down the soup and looks down to hide the tears in her eyes. “And it cost me everything.”

Vinyl Scratch takes a sip of her cider. “Yeah, life’s a bitch, ain’t it?”

Trixie nods and both mares continue to sip their drink and soup in silence, listening to whatever track her radio equipment decides to play next. A couple of minutes later, Vinyl Scratch sighs and looks at Trixie.

“So, are you going to tell me what happened?” asks Vinyl Scratch.

Trixie glares at Vinyl Scratch, but when the the pale unicorn shows no signs of wavering she looks down once more.

“It started with an argument...” begins Trixie.

When Trixie explains everything, from her argument with Minty Sprinkles, to her fighting her way out of the complex and almost getting killed by Lock, Vinyl Scratch’s jaw is to the floor. Trixie stares at Vinyl Scratch and when she waves her hoof in front of those freakish red eyes the DJ snaps out of it.

“Sorry, I’m just surprised you survived Lock,” says Vinyl Scratch.

“Why? He's just an agent,” says Trixie.

Vinyl Scratch shakes her head and runs out of the room, leaving Trixie to sluggishly sip her soup.

“Couldn’t be more wrong, there, Princess,” says Vinyl Scratch from the other room. Then she walks back in with a New Yoke Times newspaper article about Lock written by Quill Pen. It is nothing special. Just a blurb. “That AIDS magnet was a cold blooded killer.”

“Gays can't be cold blooded killers, Vinyl,” says Trixie.

Vinyl Scratch frowns and shoves the article to her face. “Lock Nermal Key the Thirtieth, a.k.a. ‘Lock N. Key’, was dishonorably discharged from the Royal Guard after he beat a prisoner to death in their cell for ‘interrogation’.”

Trixie takes the newspaper with her hooves and starts reading the short article while Vinyl Scratch continues with her explanation.

“Lock was one of the investigators for the assassination of Prince Blueblood, and the suspect beaten to death was some daycare center owner married to Major Glimmer Fuller, the R and D head honcho.”

Trixie’s jaw drops and she lets the paper fall to the ground as new tears swell in her eyes. She stares at the picture of the victim next to Lock’s face, wanting to scream and beat Lock to a bloody pulp. The victim of Lock’s cruelty was an old friend that she chased away from her show wagon all those years ago. Ms. Aural.

“No. It can’t be,” whimpers Trixie, lips trembling and her whole body shaking, bringing her more pain.

“Now, Lock claimed that this old daycare owner attacked him in her cell when he tried to get answers on some overtime investigation. But there was a rumor floating that she knew who the shooter was.”

Trixie looks up, tears soaking her coat and eyes bloodshot. “And Lock killed her? Was he the shooter? Did he kill Blueblood?”

“I'd put my money on it. I mean, shortly before Blueblood got capped he met with some goats from Bernese with Lock leading his protection detail. The meeting was behind closed doors, if you know what I mean, and those goats he met with all died within weeks after he did. Blueblood, those goats, they all met Lock. They all died. Coincidence? I think not! But guess what happened next?”

“Lock got jail time?” says Trixie meekly.

“Wrong! The EIB was just created and Brisk Wind investigated Lock for his jail cell murder and claimed that the evidence pointed to self defense. But Shining Armor still discharged Lock and after he did some community service cleaning parks and other boring shit he joined the EIB.”

Trixie's jaw hangs loose and her brain breaks from what she had heard. “Wait, so the EIB just let him in?”

“Well, Brisk Wind certainly wasted no time in giving him the position of Lead Investigator for the EIB.” Vinyl Scratch once again shakes her head and grabs Trixie by her shoulders and makes her look into her eyes. “So do you understand how lucky you are to survive Lock? You are very lucky.”

“Losing everything is lucky?” says Trixie.

“You still got your life don’t you?”

Trixie nods subtly, and Vinyl Scratch excuses herself and leaves to switch out some tracks. When Vinyl Scratch is out of sight, Trixie’s hooves tighten around the bowl and begins trembling.

First, Ms. Aural, then Bon Bon, and then Pinkie Pie and who knows how many others that suffered from Lock and Gilda’s partnership. Then there’s also Brisk Wind, Trixie knows that pegasus had something to do with what happened to her and Pinkie Pie. There is no way that two vans of well equipped EIB agents and the Lead Investigator would team up with the griffins without getting her attention. She knew and did nothing. Just another reason why her torturer needs to go. The whole thing makes her want to scream, but all she can do is cry. She squeezes her eyes shut so she doesn’t have to see her angry and sorrowed tears fall in her soup, or see the Hell that seems to follow her wherever she goes.

Minutes later, Vinyl Scratch walks back in with two bottles of Sweet Apple Cider floating next to her. She pops off the lids and hands one to Trixie, and when Trixie opens her eyes she gratefully takes it with her hoofs and gingerly sips it. Vinyl Scratch quietly takes a swigs of her drink, watching Trixie cry.

“I need to bring down Lock and the griffins,” says Trixie moments later.

“I don’t think so, Princess. You’re shot to shit. Attacking Gilda will be suicide. Lay low, fix yourself up, and then you can break some beaks,” says Vinyl Scratch.

Trixie grits her teeth and hops out of the cot, ignoring her body's pleas for her to lay down. Vinyl Scratch tries to get her to lay down, too, but Trixie shrugs her off with a grunt and starts walking around the small abode in search for her suit.

“You're crazy! You gotta lay down and rest up before you can take on Gilda!” says Vinyl Scratch.

“I can’t do that,” says Trixie as she searches high and low for her costume. “Lock and Gilda killed my friend. They almost killed me. And I know Brisk Wind had something to do with this, too. Besides, Lock and Brisk Wind had a role in Blueblood's assassination, I know it. They all need to go down and if I’m going to die doing it, then so be it.”

“Do you have a death wish or something?” says Vinyl Scratch irritably as she trails Trixie. “Look, I know that you’ve been through a lot recently, but you can’t expect to take on the griffins and the EIB in your condition!” Vinyl Scratch grabs Trixie and turns her around. “Look, I know Minty was your friend, but-”

“Minty wasn’t Minty,” says Trixie. “She was Pinkie Pie. The Element of Kindness.”

Vinyl Scratch does a double take. “What? Dude, Pinkie was the Element of Laughter.”

“Laughter. Kindness. I don't care! Minty was Pinkie, not Minty and now Pinkie is dead and I have to avenger her because we were roommates and that's what roommates do!”

“Uh, yeah, about that. Pinkie's been dead for a while, so... yeah. We're going to wane you off whatever drugs you've been taking on the side.”

Trixie pulls away, growling. “I'm not crazy! I know what I saw and I saw Pinkie Pie! But she wasn't Pinkie Pie. She was somepony else.”

“Like Minty Sprinkles? You're closeted lesbian lover roommate?”

Trixie balks. “What? No! Ew! Why would you say that about my dead roommate?”

Vinyl Scratch shrugs. “Meh, I don't know. Something about living together, going to burn down a government agency and mob empire for vengeance, and social bandwagons.”

Trixie frowns. “Can we get serious?”

“Maybe.”

Trixie huffs and slumps to the floor. “Look, Minty was Pinkie Pie... but wasn’t. I don’t know how to explain it but its like her body was there but she had a whole new brain put in or something. If you could only see her eyes, it was the eyes of a psycho. Somepony who took pleasure in beating others to a pulp. She just... she just snapped and... I don’t know. But now she’s dead, I’m sure of it and she died protecting me. That is why I have to do this. Nopony else should have to suffer at the hoofs of those degenerates, and I have to make up for my failure to protect her.”

Vinyl Scratch looks a bit skeptical of Trixie’s claim, but nonetheless gives in and walks outside. She returns a minute later with the bloody and tattered costume floating above her head in a magical grip. Trixie doesn’t hesitate to put them on, although she does need some help from Vinyl Scratch since the amount of pain she gets from twisting too much is close to unbearable. When her costume is fully on Vinyl Scratch takes a step back and flashes a small smile.

“Well, the Vigilante is stepping up her crusade, eh?” says Vinyl Scratch. “Although, you kinda left out the part about ‘Minty being Pinkie’ when you told me your story. Though, it is pretty bizarre, so I can see why you would forget.”

Trixie sighs. “Pinkie was obviously in hiding and had been keeping an eye on me for some reason. I wanted to keep that part out, but I obviously let that slip, so please do us both a favor and keep the Minty-Pinkie thing a secret.”

Vinyl Scratch reluctantly and solemnly nods. “No problem.”

Trixie is about to leave, but Vinyl Scratch calls for her and she turns around to watch levitate four gold gel pills to her. Trixie takes off her helmet and holds out hoof, letting the pills fall in their bowl. Then she looks at Vinyl Scratch quizzically.

“What are these?” asks Trixie.

“Pain pills,” replies Vinyl Scratch. “It’s to help with some problems I have, but they are really strong and should keep you moving. But these are the only ones you're getting so don’t come crawling back for more. You got enough problems and you don't need addictions on top of them.”

Trixie stares at the gel pills for a moment before shoving them in her mouth. They don’t treat her injuries, but they do a fantastic job of making them feel like bruises rather than poorly stitched bullet holes. The taste, though, is like swallowing a hard orange rolled in dirt.

Trixie coughs and falls on the floor, hacking, mouth agape and back arching like a feline trying to cough up a hairball. It is terrible feeling the dry, scratchy coughs claw at her throat and hearing Vinyl Scratch snickering is not making her feel any better. It is actually making her blood boil.

“You’re supposed to drink water with those, you dumbass,” snickers Vinyl Scratch.

Trixie puts on her helmet again and glares at Vinyl Scratch through her goggles, but she knows that the DJ has a point.

“C’mon, I wanna show you something,” says Vinyl Scratch. She leads Trixie outside to show her her bee-cycle. The color scheme for the DJ’s bee is white with blue bolts on the side and her cutie mark on the back, and while Trixie is gaping at it Vinyl Scratch climbs on. “Get on.”

Trixie climbs on without second thought and wraps her hooves around Vinyl Scratch as best as she can. There’s no time to think. Only react. Besides, Trixie wants to take down Gilda, Lock, and Brisk Wind for what they have done to her and Pinkie Pie. She knows if she can bring down Gilda and expose the EIB, then crime and corruption will take a major blow in Canterlot, and the prospect of her taking down a criminal organization and exposing a corrupt agency brings a smile to her face. She is sure that this would make Gray Muffin proud if he were still alive. However, one problem does come to mind.

“Where are we going?” asks Trixie.

Vinyl Scratch coolly puts on her sunglasses and revs the engine. “I’m going to take you as far as I can to Gilda. Once you’re there, you’re on your own.” She looks over her shoulder at Trixie. “Look, it’s not too late, you can still get off and have a beer with me and my chumps. My treat.”

“No time. Just drive,” orders Trixie.

Vinyl Scratch sighs. “Okay, but if you really want to take down those three you’re going to need my help. Get me anything that can be used as proof of Lock and Brisk Wind’s partnership with Gilda and I’ll send it to my contact inside the Royal Guard. I know Captain Armor will have a field day with them.”

Trixie grins evilly and nods. The anticipation for getting her revenge is so great she can barely contain it. Heck, the excitement alone is enough to cover the last of her pain. And while Trixie is thinking about her sweet revenge, Vinyl Scratch puts the bee in full throttle and Trixie immediately screams and tightens her grip as the vehicle lurches forward. Hut her scream cannot be heard over the roar of the engine pushing itself to the limit. The duo speeds off into the distance, swerving around a corner and breaking just about every traffic law there is, causing other vehicles to swerve out of the way and honk angrily.

So Vinyl Scratch speeds down the street, recklessly weaving between vehicles and taking shortcuts through alleys, parks and sidewalks, thus making Trixie both excited and nervous. The exhilarated feeling she is getting from the ride, like the noise from the wind and vehicles rushing past her and having a couple of bugs splatter on her visor, nearly makes her forget about her mission. She really wants to own her own bee now, just so she can do something like this everyday. Minus the part about her taking down crime lords and corrupt officials, of course. Road trips on her very own bee will be a plus when all this is over.

After driving through the city and getting lost for a good twenty minutes, they finally screech to a stop in an alley that has a perfect view of where Gilda resides. The building has a block base with onion shaped domes on the corners and one enormous tower in the center that has a domed roof. There are also four towers surrounding the building and all are connected by bridges with every dome being gold plated. The sight makes Trixie’s jaw drop, but Vinyl Scratch looks unimpressed by it.

“Looks pretty, but Gilda and basically every griffin in Canterlot lives there,” explains Vinyl Scratch.

Trixie climbs off the bee and continues to inspect the building. It is surrounded by a wall of some kind with the only noticeable way in through a gate guarded by some griffins wearing matching uniforms and checking a maintenance mini-train driven by a unicorn mare.

Trixie takes a deep breath and looks at Vinyl Scratch. “Well, this is it, then. Thanks for the ride and for patching me up.”

“You can thank me by coming back with me. I got some vinyl records of radio plays and some kick ass popcorn we can munch on. You know? Girl's night out and all,” says Vinyl Scratch.

Trixie smiles sadly. “You know I can’t do that.”

Vinyl Scratch slumps in her seat. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Fight the good fight and all. Man, you didn’t even try to convince me to take you here, so if you die I give you full permission to haunt me.”

Trixie chuckles. “And if I live?”

Vinyl Scratch perks up with a scoff. “What’s this if stuff? Of course you’re going to live! You’re just a stupid, crazy pony for doing this so soon.”

Trixie chuckles again and bumps hooves with Vinyl Scratch and turns to leave, but stops herself and turns to look at the albino before she has a chance to speed off.

“Wait, I have a request,” says Trixie. Vinyl Scratch stops the motor and looks at Trixie. “When you do your next broadcast about me, do not call me ‘Vigilante’... Call me ‘Mare-Do-Well’.”

Vinyl Scratch smirks and nods. “You got it, Mare-Do-Well.”

Vinyl Scratch speeds off and when she rounds the corner Trixie takes another deep breath and turns around to stare at the towering structure in front of her. Then she marches forward.