For the first couple of centuries after the nation's birth, the system worked perfectly. Equestria thrived, its borders growing exponentially, and the citizens within prospered beyond their wildest dreams. No more famine. No more misery. No more threat of a serious conflict. Nopony was to ever have to live through such hardships again.

To ensure that this progress did not lose its spectacular momentum, all three races would lend their own unique talents to assist the whole. Each one had much more to offer beyond their most well-known skills, and all were in great need as they began taming greater and greater portions of the new land that surrounded them.

-----

They were as silent as the dead.

All four of them sat motionless, hunched forward, their heads resting on their hooves. The air itself seemed to weigh down upon them, contaminated by lingering clouds of dust and the warm stench of sweat and spilled alcohol.

Say it!

Ullster coughed a couple of times and moved his head around a bit. Hayfeld was sprawled out next to him on the couch, his hoof shielding the side of his face from the sunlight, and he occasionally gagged when his own scent traveled into his nostrils. He wanted to get up and close the blinds, but the effort required felt beyond his current strength, and he was not even sure they were operable anyway.

Say it!

Kirk was waving one of his hind legs idly, occasionally bumping it against the side of his amplifier. It gave the dull sound of a hyper-slow metronome, calibrated to match the tempo of their spirit.

Just say it, you fucker!

From time to time, one of them would glance at their fourth member, stare for a few seconds, then look away again. He never returned their gaze. He barely even moved at all.

The scene had already played itself out a dozen times in their imagination: he would stand up and let it all out. Tell them that this isn't working. That he's been telling them that for weeks now. That they need to move their gig to a different place. Move it back to where he is from, where they might actually have a chance.

Tell them that they have failed.

-----

"Hello?"

"Hi, sweetie!"

"Oh! Uh... h-hi Mom! How's it, uh... going?"

"Oh, it's so good to hear your voice again! We're doing fine, thanks, but it's been so long since we've heard anything from you. Is everything alright?"

"Yeah! Yeah, uhh... everything's fine! Really, I— Hey! Shut up!"

"What was that?"

"Sorry! I've just got some friends staying over, and uhh..."

"Some friends? Oh, that's so good to hear! Are you getting along?"

"Dammit! Shhhh! Uh... sure! We're doing fine. How's, uh... how are things back home?"

"Well, everything is just as you left it... though a lot more quiet, I'm sure you can imagine."

"Uh-huh."

"We had your cousins over for a few days. Had a little trouble giving them a place to sleep. Your father had to repaint your room after that mess you left in there." *chuckle*

"Uh-huh..."

"We all miss you very much, though. But enough about us. What about you? Is the place okay?"

"The place is fine, Mom, thanks! I, uh..."

"Did you manage to find a job? We did give you that bit of rent money, but after that..."

"Yyyeeeaaahhh... I... did. It kinda... sucks right now, and doesn't pay that well, but..."

"Are you in trouble?"

"Nah, I can manage."

"Well, okay then! I'm glad you've decided to take this seriously. Your father and I are really proud of you, sweetie."

"Thanks, Mom... really! Look, I..."

"In fact, since you've been so good this whole time, we've decided to send you a little... present."

"I, uh... huh? What?"

"We've noticed that you've developed a fondness for loud music lately, and we were told this is the ideal choice if you're into that sort of thing. Well, hopefully at the very least it will keep you from dying of boredom." *chuckle*

"..."

"Sweetie? Are you still there?"

"Yeah! I just... well... thank you!"

"You're very welcome, dear! It should get there sometime tomorrow. We hope you'll enjoy it."

"I'm sure I will..."

"Well, take care until then! Bye! Hope to hear from you soon!"

"Bye, Mom!"

*click*

*beep*

-----

"Thanks for coming down, friends," Hayfeld said sheepishly into the mic. The room was silent, save for the echoes from the speakers and the buzzing of the amps behind him. "Uh... Be sure to wait for us after the show! We, uh... We got some tapes you could buy..."

"Fuck this! This isn't working!"

"Look at 'em!" "Bunch of sissies dressing as mares! What kind of 'rock & roll' is that?"

-----

The pegasi, being the most militaristic of the three, volunteered to take on the responsibility of protecting the young nation from any potential threats, external or internal. This formed the ancestor to what we now know as the Royal Guard. Being also extremely mobile and flexible, the fastest of their fliers formed specialized groups that would go on to explore the uncharted regions of the land, and report back about whatever benefits they had to offer.

The first, not to mention the greatest testament to their skill, however, was the weather factory they have constructed within the Heartland. It was the first of many to provide dominance over the skies for all of ponykind. And as the families of its workers grew, the facility and the simple dwellings attached to it steadily matured into a marvelous city in the clouds, worthy of the legacy of the former Pegasus Empire.

They named it Cloudsdale.

-----

Minutes passed in silence, then turned unto hours, until Hesher gave a frustrated sigh, got up from the dusty armchair, and walked over to his amplifier. Nopony even looked his way. He flicked the power switch on, messed around with the controls a bit, picked up his bass, and started playing.

"The fuck are you doing?" Ullster groaned.

"Playing bass," Hesher replied.

"Uuughh..."

"There a problem?"

"Yeah..." the drummer grunted. "I want to pull out my fucking teeth..."

-----

"So let me get this straight:" the stallion grunted. He leaned over to put out his cigarette, crushing its remains in a small tin ashtray next to his hind hoof that he had propped up on the desk. Nonchalantly, he then placed another in his mouth, but did not light it just yet. "You guys want to sell me... this?"

His thick forehoof gestured toward the box, and his tone carried a not-so-subtle hint of disbelief. Ullster hesitated with the response. The pony before him was a middle-aged stallion with a faded yellow coat and a short-cropped, brown mane with hints of gray at the sides, as well as a look of condescension that seemed to be permanently etched into his face. He sat beside a large desk in the corner and rested his feet on the dark wooden surface while leaning back in his chair. A rather overstuffed belly poked out from under his white shirt which was pockmarked with all kinds of stains. A pair of large headphones hung around his neck, the other end of its cable lost among a whole host of studio equipment that surrounded him. The majority of it was carelessly strewn across the dusty carpeted floor, with only the most expensive-looking items able to find a spot on the desk.

"That's right," the colt mumbled, his voice shaking slightly.

The stallion raised an eyebrow as he brushed the stubble on his chin. "You want to sell me... music."

"Yeah."

"A pile of vinyl records..." he went on. "In a cardboard box... with sharpie markings on it... in a foreign language..."

"Um... yes?"

He sighed. "Look, kid... I don't mean to be rude, but... I mean, especially after our last deal..."

"I know it's unusual, but you have to believe me: We're not just doing a yard sale here. This stuff is incredibly rare, and it absolutely kills. I guarantee that you've never heard anything like this in your entire life."

"Right."

"We're certain this is going to be the next big thing as soon as it gets some distribution. Your place seemed more... open-minded, so we decided to come here. In return for a minor investment, you are almost certain to—"

"Okay, okay, whatever," the stallion said with a sigh. "Skip the BS. How much do you want for it?"

"Um..." the big colt stammered and glanced back toward the others awkwardly. His friends were cramped together on a couch on the far end of what must have been a humble office room once, and they all struggled to breathe due to the poor ventilation. None of them had anything helpful to add beyond a shrug or a shake of the head.

Ullster gulped as he turned back to the obese stallion. "Five hundred... uh..." He trailed off.

The stallion's eyes widened, and his hooves nearly dropped from the desk. "Five hundred... grand?" he finished for him. "Five hundred grand for this? You've got to be fuckin' kidding me." His voice raised slightly. "We're not the Canterlot Central Bank here, dealing with fuckin' antiques! How the hay did you even come up with such a price?"

"It's well below what these are worth," Ullster muttered under his breath. "Cheap bastards..."

"Yeah?" The pony before him got up all of a sudden and stood nose to nose with him. "You think money grows on fucking trees here? You think you know how to negotiate? Why don't you go to one of those big-shot record companies, then? Kiss their asses to pay you instead?" He was almost shouting now. "Oh yeah! That's right: they would never even speak to you little fuckers. They don't deal with a bunch of pathetic amateurs."

The black colt held his breath, and for a couple of tense seconds they just stared at each other, never saying a word or moving a muscle. Finally, the stallion sat back down with another sigh, lit the cigarette in his mouth, and took a long drag before turning back to them.

"Alright... sorry. Let's not get off the wrong hoof here," he said. "You guys need to understand that we aren't exactly ponies of great means."

The youngsters remained silent. He shook his head and rubbed his forehooves against his temples as he continued. "Fine... I'll talk to the boss about it. Come back tomorrow and we'll work out a deal."

Ullster's eyes lit up. He turned back to his friends again, who all raised their heads upon hearing the response. The tiny sliver of hope they felt was already enough to lift their spirits.

Maybe we have a chance after all... he thought, then breathed a sigh of relief as the lead weight in his stomach began to dissolve.

"Thanks a lot!" he told the stallion with a smile and reached for the box. "See you tomorrow, then!"

"Hold up!" he replied, making the colt freeze. "That stays here."

"What?"

"The goods."

"What do you— you said we should come back tomorrow!"

"Yeah. And until then I'm going to need something to show to the boss."

"Okay... we'll leave you behind a couple of records then..."

"Nope, the whole box. Or no deal." He gave a smug grin when he noticed the kid grinding his teeth together. "Think of it as a sign of trust," he went on. "After all, we're the ones who might end up paying you, right?"

Neither of the four colts would reply. One by one, they got up from their seats and sluggishly filed out of the room, heads hung low. His grin widened at their helpless sight. "Pleasure doing business with you!" the stallion called after them with as much smugness in his voice as he could muster. "See you guys tomorrow!"

The door slammed shut behind them as they exited the building. They sat down on the edge of the stairs leading up from the sidewalk, and stared ahead blankly for a minute without saying a word.

"Well..." Hayfeld finally spoke up. "That... could have gone better..."

"Yeah..." Ullster replied. "I guess so..."

"You guess so?" His friend raised his voice. "We're sitting here with no fucking money, and our stuff is back in there like we just gave it away!"

"Yeah. And?"

"And? We just got screwed back there!"

"Oh, well, I'm sorry for fucking up my very first attempt at this shit! The fuck do you expect from me?"

"I don't know... how about: 'trying a bit harder'?" he replied in a mocking tone.

"Fuck you!" Ullster shouted back. "You try it next time! It's not like you're the one who's got the most at stake here. Not all of us get sent Mareshall amps by our mommies!"

"Guys, hey!" Kirk said, the growing tension between his friends making him feel uneasy. "Can't we just... calm down?"

They stood nose to nose and stared into each other's eyes while trembling with rage. Sighing, Kirk turned to Hesher instead, hoping to get some assistance from him at least. The pegasus seemed completely disinterested in the situation, however. He just stared at the bare concrete beneath his hooves, then calmly took out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it.

"So..." he said, just as Kirk was about to scold him. "What do we do now?"

The other two immediately fell silent. Their jaws dropped as they turned around to face him. Hesher just kept staring at the ground, almost as if he spoke to himself. After a long pause, he finally raised his head to look at them. Smoke bled from his nostrils, and a condescending smile was etched into his face.

Hayfeld and Ullster just stood there, baffled. Their friend practically hasn't said a word all day, and hearing him speak up all of a sudden now managed to throw off their rage. The gray colt turned back to his opponent, and they both just shook their heads and sat back down, then buried their faces in their forehooves.

"Now?" Hayfeld said, "I guess we wait..."

-----

Earth ponies were the true pioneers of this era. While the pegasi were quite proficient at exploring the new land, it was the earth ponies who would then have to come along and tame it. As the borders of the nation expanded, more and more families took it upon themselves to venture into the new, uninhabited territories, all hoping to build themselves a prosperous future. They would pay any price in sweat and tears – and perhaps even blood – that was necessary until the soil beneath their hooves was ready to provide for them, whether by them growing crops on it, or mining the riches buried beneath the surface.

Nearly all of the settlements that exist today were founded in such a manner. These smaller hamlets, built by dozens of ambitious families, soon began to attract other settlers as well, eventually growing into such giants as Manehatten, Fillydelphia, and Baltimare. While these cities have long since abandoned their humble roots, the true essence of earth pony culture can still be found today, quietly sustaining itself in the rural parts of Equestria.

-----

"Hey friends!" Hayfeld shouted into the mic. His hoof pointed out to his right. "That there on the four string fucker is our old friend Hesher!"

The cheers of the audience clashed against the roar of the final sustained chords and the whining feedback.

"But enough fuckin' bass for tonight!" he went on. "So, you guys ready?"

"Yeah!" the crowd screamed back in unison.

"Fuck yeah, let's go!"

The sustained roar was replaced by a series of short bursts from the snare and the guitars. They then gave way to another explosive power chord, but this time the drums held their ground as Ullster began to build up a frantic rhythm on the toms.

"This one is entitled Whiplash..." Hayfeld grunted into the microphone, and the screams of the audience intensified. He smiled and banged his head gently to the beat as he waited for the right moment. The sound of the amplifiers have all but faded by the time the final bar came up.

"One... two... one, two, three, go!"

The band's hooves slammed against their instruments in unison, unleashing wave after wave of destructive volume. Grinning, Hayfeld leaned out toward the kids in the front row as he ripped out the main riff, then ran back to the mic and let out an animal-like roar once the others followed suit.

Four heads banged in unison on stage. Four ponies were adrift in a sea of dry ice and blinding red and white lights, all the while letting loose an ear-splitting assault of heavy metal. In response, the audience turned into something akin to an exploding nest of angry hornets. Colts and fillies howled their lungs out, thrashed around, pulled on their own manes, and slammed their entire bodies against whatever was closest to them: somepony else, the fence before the stage, the floor, and even the front door.

Hayfeld swayed a little and struggled to keep his balance. The last two bottles he drank that night suddenly did not seem like such a good idea anymore. His body was nearing its limit as the adrenaline and alcohol burned him from the inside out.

That didn't matter to him anymore, though. His grin felt like it could rip his face in two. He just couldn't believe it. This had to be a dream.

But even if it was, then he never wanted to wake up from it. Instead, he took in a large dose of air, then sang the first line.

-
-

"Whiplash!" Hayfeld screamed in unison with the crowd.

The main riff started blasting once more, and the four colts went back to their frantic dance. Less than a week ago, this song was starting to feel stale for them, since they've been playing it non-stop for almost a year now. All it took was a good audience for them to feel its true energy.

And if it was this powerful for them, then they couldn't even imagine what all those kids in the crowd were going through. The sight of the front row certainly gave a good impression, though.

-
-

"Whiplash!"

Hayfeld screamed into the mic, then moved away to bang his head again, just in time to dodge another one of the dozens of kids that climbed onto the stage. He lost count less than halfway into the song, and that just made him enjoy it even more.

The youngsters didn't linger for long. They thrashed about for a few seconds on stage, then quickly jumped back into the fray. Instead of hitting the ground, however, they found themselves drifting around upon the hooves of all the other kids that were lining up to jump.

Nopony was left behind that night.

They reached the bridge section. Hayfeld was in a daze. Every cell in his body felt ready to explode. He could barely stay on his hooves, but not even the word of the princesses could make him stop now.

Don't you dare fuck it up this time! he thought and glanced to his left. As if responding to his thoughts, Kirk throttled back his movement a bit and braced himself on his guitar in preparation for the solo.

Hayfeld grinned as he stumbled back to the mic. Oh, who the fuck cares anyway... he thought. Even a messed up guitar solo couldn't ruin the song for him now.

"HERE WE GO!"

Kirk's guitar screamed over the roar of the other instruments as the colt released a furious barrage of notes, their speed and ferocity mimicking that of the audience's rampage that night. The movement of the crowd itself, on the other hand, reached a momentary lull as everypony savored their strength for the best part. With their limbs twitching, they all stared in awe and anticipation at the lead guitarist as he unleashed his own voice for the band.

Sweet Celestia, blow me! And he's not fucking it up...

Hayfeld couldn't hold back a giggle from the excitement he felt, though it wasn't as if anypony could have heard it. Not that he would have cared, either.

This was it. This was the moment they've been dreaming about for so long. Everything was working exactly as the way it should, and it was about to pay off.

Kirk held the final note for a while, then, for only a split second, the whole room went silent.

"WHIPLASH!"

The room exploded. Every ounce of energy that was held back up to that point was released all at once, both from the audience and from the band. Their limbs all but flew apart as their bodies tried to keep up with the insane power of the music. Hundreds of voices rose in sync with the scream of the solo as it peaked toward the end.

The song itself, however, wasn't over just yet.

-
-

The final chords rang out, along with one last scream from Hayfeld, and the song came to an end. The thunder of the instruments gave way to the roaring and screaming of the crowd. Hundreds of hooves clopped together and stomped on the ground. Dozens of half-empty cups of beer were raised in a toast to the four colts on stage.

"Thanks alot, all you crazy fucks!" Hayfeld said between gasps for breath. His joints were all sore, and his sweat-soaked mane clung to his face and neck. It burned his eyes and poured salt into his mouth every time he opened them. But the minor discomfort was nothing compared to how the sight of their audience made him feel.

"And don't forget, friends:" He grinned, and his hoof pointed toward his chest. "We are Metallicolt..." he said, then extended his hoof out toward the crowd. "You are Metallicolt!"

-----

"Good morning, everypony! This is Dove Dale, bringing the residents of the lovely City by the Bay the latest news in rock & roll—"

"Hey! Shut up for a sec, guys! And turn up the radio! This might be it!"

"Ugh... get your hoof out of my face, you idiot!"

"Can't get comfy, ya little sissy? Why don't you take a ride in the back then?"

"Cause your worthless fucking drums are back there! You saying I get to throw them out?"

"Will you two shut up already?"

"...and the latest sensation we have for you is the hot new rock n' roll— or should I say 'metal' band from LA called 'Metallicolt'. They just got done playing a show here in our own lovely little town, and now I got to exchange a few words with them..."

"Hell yeah, they're even playing our song!"

"Wow... we played like shit..." *burp*

"So how long has the band been together?"

"Well, uh... since we started, I guess..."

"Heh, check it out, Hayfeld! Recognize that sissy girl voice? That's what the rest of us gotta live through every time we practice..."

"Any plans for the future of the group?"

"We gotta pack up here for now, get the stuff in the van, then uh... we're going back to LA to get some sleep..." *chuckle*

"Actually, we're probably gonna move here. We like this place..."

"Fuck you! And turn that shit off already! We all sound like a bunch of retards..."

"...there you have it: Metallicolt. And now we bring you the latest tunes from the mysterious 'secret collection' of the up and coming LA label 'Crush Records.' This is 'Highway Star' by Deep Purple, and I'm Dove Dale, signing off!"

-----

Unicorns, the masters of the sciences and the arcane, were never famous for their contributions when it came to hard labor. Nonetheless, they worked with just as much effort and dedication as the other two, not resting until all of their endeavors resulted in absolute perfection. Having the most educated scholars, not to mention being the most persistent when it came to academic progress, their most important responsibility during this time became organization. Their best minds worked tirelessly as they planned all the necessary projects, developed new methods, and provided guidance for all the other ponies involved.

Even their lesser-ranked entrepreneurs had a significant effect on their environment. While the earth ponies were the ones to lay the foundations, it was only when the unicorns began to move in that the humble settlements of old started showing any real signs of progress, and managed to develop into the giant cities of our time.

Their finest masterpiece, however, is without a doubt the city they have erected on their own. After settling down in this land, their first order of business was to find a suitable vantage point for their most proficient wielders of magic, from where they would be able to perform the daily task of raising the sun and the moon efficiently.

Their choice fell upon Crystal Mountain, the majestic peak at the very center of the Heartland. Due to its advantageous position, the area was already in use as the temporary rallying point for the country's leadership. Besides magnitude and beauty, this added practicality to their decision as well. Piece by piece, through unprecedented effort and precision, the great castle emerged from the side of the mountain, its every detail the purest essence of Unicornian design.

This was the birth of Canterlot.

-----

"Who gives a shit?" Hesher said without even looking up. He flipped a page on the magazine he was reading, which featured a story about some stuck up musician in Canterlot who was apparently tired of everypony thinking she was going out with some crazy DJ.

"I'm telling ya!" Ullster exclaimed. "She must have been the hottest... the..." The rest of his sentence was delayed by a loud belch that erupted from his belly. "Ugh... the most beautiful flank I've ever seen. And she was shaking it in the front row all night! Best payment I ever got for a show..."

"Try telling that to her," Kirk chimed in with a laugh. "She'd shove those sticks up your plot before you'd open your mouth..."

Ullster responded by chucking one of said sticks at his friend. It missed its intended target by several feet and instead managed to hit Hayfeld, which almost made him choke on the mouthful of beer he was busy pouring down his throat.

*cough* *cough* "Fuck! Stupid little..." The gray colt broke the stick in two, then tossed the remains out the window behind him. "Try playing on it now, dick!"

Ullster just chuckled. "Nah, it's okay... on the way back, I'll throw your guitar out to find it."

"Alright, gentlecolts, listen up!" a voice boomed from the far end of the cabin. The door slid open, and a short pegasus stallion with a blue coat and dark purple mane stepped in. "I just want you to... uh..."

His voice trailed off, and his eyes went wide as he took in the scene before him. Four young and very drunk stallions, as well as a whole case of beer and various other beverages, were spread out in ridiculous poses all over the public coach. The youngsters drank non-stop, wandered about, and climbed all over the seats and the floor. They yelled, chanted, or just let out all sorts of loud and incoherent noises, much to the dismay of over a dozen other ponies who tried to occupy the very same part of the train.

"Oh for Celestia's sake, you've got to be kidding me!" the newcomer said and facehoofed.

"Aww, shit!" Kirk moaned. He swayed on the edge of his seat and almost fell off when the train hit a large bump. "Mr. Party Pooper is here..."

"I'm very sorry about this, everypony." The pegasus quickly ran up to the rest of the passengers, who now turned their enraged expressions against him. "They're just very excited. They're musicians, and... well, you know... there's a rough night ahead of them..."

He spent about five minutes trying to calm them down and explain everything. In the end, the others just decided to abandon the coach altogether. As they left, the blue pegasus put on his best apologetic smile and kept repeating how sorry he was for the inconvenience.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he yelled at the band after the final pony closed the door behind him. "Are you guys trying to get us thrown off the train?"

"Nooooo..." Ullster's braying was cut off by another loud belch. "Don't spoil the party! Come ooonn..." He rolled over onto his back on the seat. "Just sit down and have a beer with us. It'll be fun!"

"Knock it off!" the newcomer snapped, then gave a deep sigh. "Ugh, they don't pay me enough for this... Look, guys... we're about to arrive at the very first gig of your first real tour, so could you please try to keep it together? Just this once?"

His snout wrinkled as the thick stench of booze broke his concentration. He shook his head, then proceeded to open every window in the car that was still closed. "Anyway..." he went on. "After we get off, you'll have some time to explore the place and mingle with the locals."

"Nothing crazy, though!" he added in a serious tone. "Just a little sightseeing, then it's time for the show."

Hayfeld laughed and waved it off. "Hell, you know us, Strider," he said and took another sip from the bottle. "We're all good little foals. Aren't we, guys?" He burped, then winked at his friends, and they all laughed heartily.

"Yep," Hesher said as he opened a bottle of liquor for himself. "We're a group of little angels. We won't do anything wrong..."

-----

As all things seemed, they have achieved perfection. Peace, prosperity, happiness; all under the guidance of an ever-vigilant leadership.

But no system is perfect. And as good as the one these ambitious ponies have developed, it was no exception. Though it did manage to solve the nation's difficulties in the short-term, it was still a hastily enacted policy, and as the ponies involved had the chance to enjoy all the weight dropping from their shoulders, its more subtle flaws would remain unnoticed.

A large society is unpredictable, not unlike a giant body of water. It contains all sorts of tides and currents, far too many to adequately keep track of, its shape and consistency changing at a pace that only becomes striking over the course of centuries.

Though there was no more animosity between them, the three races slowly began to drift apart. The pegasi took up residence in the clouds, the earth ponies thrived in the countryside, while the cities became the unicorns' domain. An understandable development, since it followed a natural flow within their society. Each race simply moved into the environment that they were best suited for. And even so, there was still plenty of "middle ground" left. Over time, however, such polarization could easily become dangerous to the well-being of the nation, especially if it had to face a more serious threat once again.

-----

"Hey there! Welcome to AAAAAAA-pple-LOO-sa!"

The stallion before them had a grin a mile wide, and it seemed as though nothing in the world could ever make it shrink. Not even the sight of four very drunk colts as they stumbled at the door and fell off the train, then groggily tried to get back up while cursing and spitting out mouthfuls of dust.

"Wh-wha... what the fuck?" Ullster mumbled as he tried to raise his head. "Who the hell are— ugh!" The heat he was now exposed to brought on a strong wave of nausea, making him double over.

"Mah name is Braeburn!" their reception announced proudly and tipped his hat. "And y'all are?"

The only response he got was laughter, more groans of discomfort, and a loud burp.

"Oh, for Celestia's sake..." Strider facehoofed, then quickly hopped off the train and trotted up to the pile of flailing limbs that was the band. "I apologize for the trouble," he said to the light-brown stallion as he knelt next to the closest member. "They're just a little, uh... tired."

"Fuck off me, dick!" Hayfeld groaned as the blue pegasus tried to push him off Kirk's back. The lead guitarist had complaints of his own, but he was too busy belching and trying to stop himself from throwing up.

"Well, y'all seem to be a cheerful bunch," Braeburn replied, seemingly oblivious. With the ever present grin on his face, he walked up to them and helped Strider get every drunk colt back onto their hooves. "And that's good news for all of us, 'cause nopony should ever have to feel down when they visit..." He reared up and raised his head to the sky to yell once more. "...AAAAAAA-pple-LOO-sa!"

The colts could only give stupid-looking grins in response as they struggled to hold back their laughter. Braeburn's smile, his speech, his movements, his hat; pretty much every part of him and his act was hilarious to them. They swayed on their hooves and giggled uncontrollably as the strange earth pony kept rambling about all the wonderful things that awaited them in the town.

Braeburn did not mind, or at least he showed no sign of it. If anything, he seemed delighted that such a merry group came to visit, so he wasted no time introducing the rest of the town to them. The four could barely react as their host eagerly pushed them from one attraction to the next. When asked to share their impression of each one, they just babbled incoherently. The only place that really caught their attention was the saloon, especially the sign outside that read: "Today's special offer: hard ciders at half price!!!"

However, they only had a few moments to bask in its beauty before Braeburn dragged them onward once more. They spent over half an hour moving back and forth through the town, up to and including its outskirts. Another ten minutes were spent trying to find Kirk, who managed to get lost after wandering off into one of the alleys for a quick bathroom stop. The whole time, Strider desperately tried to keep the rest of the band in one spot, not to mention keep up with the insane pace of Braeburn's little tour.

Eventually, they stumbled upon a passed out and dirt-covered Kirk among a couple of empty barrels behind the saloon. Everypony was starting to sober up a little at this point, so the tour of the town began to seem more annoying than funny. Their eager guide, on the other hand, wanted to get moving again as soon as they dragged their fourth member out of his napping spot.

"Hey Braeburn, come on..." somepony called out just as they would have begun to complain. They turned to look and saw another earth pony approach them. This one had a red coat and golden mane, and – like almost every other local – he wore a large Stetson, though his was bright white instead of the more common earth and dirt colors they noticed so far. "Give 'em a break already," he said with a compassionate smile. "Can't ya see these folk ain't too steady on their hooves? They must be dead tired, not ta mention thirsty."

He winked at the colts after that last remark, and they all cheered in response. Braeburn shrugged with a smile. "Oh, alright then..." he replied. "Ah guess that's enough for one day. What say you take 'em for a visit to the saloon?" When the newcomer nodded, the light brown stallion turned to the band once more. "Just don't forget: there's never a shortage of good things to find in... AAAAAAA-pple-LOO-sa!"

When his forehooves finally landed, Braeburn tipped his hat to say goodbye, then galloped off to attend to whatever business awaited him elsewhere.

"Sorry 'bout that. Ah hope Braeburn didn't leave a bad impression on ya," the red coated stallion began as he led them toward the entrance of the saloon. "He means well, but he can get a little carried away sometimes."

"Hey, don't sweat it," Hayfeld said with a laugh. "As long as we can get drunk, we don't give a fuck..."

The stallion chuckled. "Ah'm sure. Anyway, mah name's Mirage. And y'all are...?"

As they stepped onto the porch, the four clumsily managed to introduce themselves, followed by their manager, who was still trying to decide whether to feel relieved or embarrassed. The pony named Mirage just laughed at their antics, however, then walked through the saloon doors and gestured for the others to enter.

The interior of the place was a large chamber filled by a half-lit haze, with tables on the left side and the bar with stools in front of it on the other. The air was hot and heavy from dust and the smell of sweaty and inebriated ponies. The dozen or so patrons inside were mostly middle-aged or elderly gentlecolts, either hunched over their drinks on their own, or tightly huddled together in small groups.

The band members could only smile, since the atmosphere matched their desires perfectly. They quickly marched forward and sat down at the bar. The few whispers the other patrons shared among one another died down immediately, and everypony raised their heads to take a peek at the newcomers.

Mirage took a seat next to the four colts and their manager. "Five hard ciders, please," he said to the bartender while gesturing at the guests.

"Hey, come on!" Ullster moaned. "Aren't you going to have a drink with us?"

"Yeah!" Kirk added. "Come on, it's on us!"

"Nope, sorry," Mirage replied with a smile. "Got a lot of work ta do, and I gotta stay sober ta do it."

"Well, it's good ta know ya got at least that much common sense!" a scratchy voice called out.

The colts' ears perked up, and they all began to turn their heads left and right in search of whoever just spoke to them. Almost everypony else in the room was giving them strange, even unwelcoming looks. But there was one old stallion in particular, half-obscured by the shadows in the far corner of the chamber, whose expression looked as though the four before him were the spawn of Tirek himself.

"Wish ya had enough not ta let such a freakshow into town!" he grumbled.

"What the— who the hay is that?" Ullster asked as he turned back to their host.

"Oh, don't mind him," Mirage replied. "That's only Dust Bowl... though we like to call him Ol' Dusty." He turned toward the offender. "Come on, Dusty! Be nice to them. They're guests, not to mention musicians, and they're gonna play tonight."

Upon hearing his nickname, Dusty let out a frustrated snort. "Ah don't care if you say they're the goddess-damned Canterlot Orchestra," he spat back. "They're trouble and nothin' more."

"Hey, we're not gonna cause any trouble, sir," Hesher said.

"What kinda music do y'all even play?" somepony else spoke up.

"Oh, we're actually a, uh... a gospel act," the pegasus replied with a devilish smile.

The other three giggled, then bumped his shoulder to make him stop before things got messy. At the same time, though, all of them were secretly curious where this was going.

"Say what?" another patron joined in. "Ya mean you're Sun Cultists?"

"Yep." Hesher leaned back on his stool and beamed proudly. "Here to spread the word of the goddesses themselves. Our name is Meet-Al-Leecolt."

"'Meet-Al-Leecolt'?" the second pony repeated. "Hmm... that sounds... interesting..."

Hesher's friends could not hold it back any longer. They burst into laughter, then patted his back while cheering for him wildly, almost falling off their stools in the process. The first round of drinks arrived, and Hayfeld quickly proposed a toast to Hesher and his bravery. He followed that up with a toast to the colt's mother as well, whom he claimed "gave him the best head of his entire life."

The old stallion ground his teeth together. "Look at 'em," he growled. "A bunch o' spoiled brats who like to make a ruckus. Always know it when Ah see it."

-----

Eventually, the nation found its borders as well. The high rate of its growth did not meet a friendly reception by the time it reached the countries that surrounded it, who all viewed the expansion as far too aggressive, if not as an invasion outright.

Of course, they had more selfish reasons in mind as well. A nation as young and untouched, not to mention as large as Equestria became at this point, was nothing more than a huge target for any who desired to take it as a prize. With its population not having seen military action in centuries, their peers also found it unlikely that the ponies could mount any serious resistance.

While this external threat loomed on the horizon, tensions were growing within Equestria as well. The question of leadership once again came into debate. Although their new system was excellent in guiding them through the developmental stages, in times of crisis, it was too slow to respond, and with the high risk of them facing war soon, there was no time for complicated bureaucracy to stall them.

The natural reaction was to temporarily disband their government and hand over all control to a dictatorship of sorts. One that was quick to react, and its every command would be carried out without delay, though only until the crisis has been solved. This part of the solution was unanimously accepted.

Who to give all this power to, however, was the question they could not agree upon.

-----

Two hours. That's how long it took for the band to anger the saloon's owner enough that he decided to kick them out. Strider looked about ready to kill his own clients, but he was too busy apologizing to everypony again. Plus even he had to admit that it was a pretty long stay compared to how they usually performed, especially before such an uptight audience.

The colts thus found themselves on the street again. To their great fortune, however, Mirage was kind enough to talk the irate bartender into selling them a barrel of hard cider, so they did not have to spend the rest of the night without any booze. But there was no time to celebrate. Against their protests, Strider quickly forced them into a nearby carriage and whisked them away to do their soundcheck while they could still stand up straight.

After a five minute trip spent cramped together, the band found itself in an old, abandoned warehouse just beyond the outskirts of the town. Inside, there was a hastily assembled stage made of wooden pallets for support with plywood sheets on top. A pair of young stallions were busy unpacking amplifiers and other gear from a truck parked outside. At Strider's urging, the colts quickly stumbled forth to get to work.

"So who we doin' this show for, anyway?" Ullster asked in a dizzy trance behind his drum set. "We're in the middle of nowhere, and all I could see back in town was a bunch of old pricks..."

"We're doing it way out here because of the noise," Strider replied. He shook his head and sighed when he realized that the band could barely stay on their hooves, let alone pay attention. "The gig itself is for all the kids in the entire province. Appleloosa is just the 'train station,' so to speak."

He quickly trotted to the edge of the stage to help Kirk get his amp onto it. After a few moments of struggling, he ended up having to carry the whole thing by himself, while the guitarist collapsed in a fit of drunken giggling. "Don't worry," the manager grunted between gasps for breath. "It's been announced weeks ahead. You're going to have plenty of an audience."

With all their gear set up, and over an hour left before the show, Hayfeld decided to take a quick walk to clear his head a little. He told Strider he was taking a break, to which the stallion reluctantly agreed. After giving the roadies a hoof bump each, he trotted out through one of the side doors and began to wander back toward the town.

Along the way, it turned out that their manager was not exaggerating after all. Hayfeld noticed several young ponies already emerging from the train station's exit and slowly making their way toward the scene of the upcoming gig. His presence did not cause much of a stir, no doubt thanks to his appearance so closely matching their own: long mane, torn and dirty denim, worn leather, sweat-soaked shirt, and plenty of alcohol. For all they knew, he was just another youngster waiting to see the big show.

Though the sun was almost gone beneath the horizon, the lingering heat still managed to drain him toward the end of his walk. As Hayfeld searched in the dim and warm twilight for a place to rest, he noticed a colt sitting all alone on the front porch of the saloon.

The young stallion paused and turned to take a better look. The little guy had a gray coat, only slightly darker than his own, a short brown mane, and a blank flank. He was just sitting there, eyes trained on the ground, head resting on his forehooves, and a somber expression on his face.

Without thinking, Hayfeld trotted up to an empty spot next to the colt, then turned around and slumped down onto his haunches. "Hey," he muttered.

The colt gave a tiny gasp, and his eyes grew wide as he turned to look up at him. Hayfeld just smiled as he returned his gaze.

"Don't be scared," he went on. "Not gonna hurt ya. I just..." He paused to let out a small burp. "Just wanted to talk to somepony... somepony else... for a change..."

The kid did not reply. Shuddering and breathing a little faster now, he just turned away and went back to staring at the ground.

"A colt of few words, huh?" Hayfeld asked with a chuckle, then looked away as well. "Well, that's alright... didn't really know what to talk about anyway..."

The crowd of youngsters migrating toward the edge of town was becoming thicker every minute. The whole settlement was now loud with the noises of kids celebrating their youth. A single glance at them displayed a wide palette of rebellious appearance and behavior. The main street was quickly becoming littered with bottles, cans, and even a couple of ponies who managed to pass out from their binge.

It's gonna be one hell of a night... Hayfeld thought and chuckled again.

"Comin' to see the show?" he asked the colt next to him.

There was no response. Hayfeld did not look, but he knew the kid was still there. He frowned. Something was wrong. Something told him that none of this made sense. That this kid was not supposed to be out here.

He shook his head. The thoughts swimming around in his mind only served to make him dizzy, and trying to figure them all out just made his head hurt. Instead, the two of them just sat there, staring silently at the crowd as they noisily ventured toward the gig.

"Thank Celestia, finally..." a familiar voice called out. "You alright there, Hayfeld?"

Hayfeld turned to look and noticed Strider trotting up to them, a mix of worry and annoyance on his face. "Just checking up on ya," he went on. "We've got about twenty minutes left before the show."

"Yeah, we're fine, thanks..." Hayfeld muttered. "Time to go?"

"Well, normally I'd say 'not yet', but..." Strider crouched before them to get a good look at his client's face. "Yeah, in your case, I think it is."

Hayfeld sighed. "Alright..." he said and slowly climbed off the porch. Just before trotting away, he turned back to the colt one last time.

"See ya later, kid," he said and waved with his forehoof. The colt looked up and stared into his eyes again. He still did not reply, but there seemed to be a slight shift in his expression. Hayfeld could not tell what it was, but it made him smile.

"Come on," Strider urged him and tugged on his shoulder. "Let's go."

The two of them marched off into the thick of the crowd, doing their best to not let its current drag them away and prevent them from breaking off toward the end. The last thing they needed was for the audience to find out about the "staff entrance." But the stormy sea of dirty, sweaty, and inebriated ponies did not give way without a struggle.

Strider muttered curses and shook his head, while Hayfeld just grinned. The energy radiated by the crowd made him experience bliss. At this point, things went beyond just a foal's dream come true. He could never have imagined being able to see and feel such wonders.

"Go back ta where ya came from, dumb kids!" he faintly heard a scratchy voice call out. It sounded familiar, which pulled him out of his brief trance. "Good for nothing, worthless runts! Get lost! All of you!"

"Shut up, you old fuck!" somepony eventually shouted back. Hayfeld giggled like a foal as he leaned on his manager, who groaned in frustration as the pair stumbled onward.

-----

The earth ponies demanded superiority through sheer numbers, especially in the rural and outlying areas of Equestria, although here their most vocal advocates had little to no experience with the other two kind, let alone the knowledge to guide a nation with all three in mind.

Pegasi demanded it due to their control over the skies, not to mention their legacy as warriors, even though that custom was little more than fantasy among them at this point. The only exception was the Equestrian Militia, which remained loyal to the central authority.

The unicorns felt it natural that the role should fall upon them, since – according to them – they have held the most prestigious position since the beginning: helping all of Equestria's great cities rise, being the masters of all magic, and being by far the most schooled and most experienced in leadership. Then again, the best of the best among them all objected against any sort of rift between the three races. It was their rivals, the ones left out of the top ranks, that united under the banner of "unicorn superiority."

The enemy was at the gates, and those who were supposed to guard the walls were too busy bickering with one another.

-----

"This one's entitled... Seek... And... Destroy!"

Every word of the title was screamed by the crowd in unison with him. Hayfeld stepped back with a wide grin, then started banging his head as he and Kirk began the intro riff. The rest of the band followed shortly afterward.

"Let's see some fucking action!" Hayfeld screamed once they got to the main riff. The audience gladly obliged. Within seconds, everypony before the stage clashed in a furious dance once more. The intensity of their reaction to the music never seemed to let up, not even after ten songs with the same frenzy all the way through.

Standing off to the side and out of view, Strider gave a long sigh, followed by a weak smile as he watched the colts play.

"This is where it all pays off..." he muttered to himself.

For all intents and purposes, the show went off without a hitch. Though he could just barely stop the band from knocking themselves out on their booze, as soon as he marched them onto the stage, the gears were in motion once more, to the point that they almost spun out of control.

It took the colts over a year to get to this point. The move to San Prancisco was but the first step on a long road, and there were plenty of speed bumps. Dozens of shows and hundreds – if not thousands – of demo tapes trading hooves. The harrowing trip to a record store owner in Manehattan to make their first album. So many sleepless nights. So much booze. So much noise.

None of this would have brought success were the nation not prepared for it all. Crush Records distributed their "secret collection," and the youth of Equestria began to discover heavy metal. They lived it, loved it, and wanted more.

Soon enough, there were plenty of songs and plenty of bands, all of them immensely popular upon release, but there were never any tangible musicians. To some, it seemed as though the new material just popped up out of thin air somehow, then turned into a free money machine for the label that first got its hooves on it.

To the new "disciples of metal," however, none of that mattered. The new music had everypony pumped up, and all they needed to find release was for a band to bring the noise to them in the flesh. And although many contenders popped up all over the map, the first real answer to their prayers was none other than a quartet of youngsters from the West Coast:

Metallicolt.

"Searching... seek and destroy!" Hayfeld screamed, then decided to taunt the crowd a little. "Searching... come on! Louder!"

The ponies in the crowd were already howling their lungs out, but the command seemed to push them even further. Every time he spoke to them, they thrashed harder, jumped higher, and screamed louder than before.

Despite all the difficulties in working with the four, Strider considered himself one very lucky stallion. When he first got the assignment, he almost resigned after less than a week of having to tolerate the youngsters' reckless behavior. In fact, even to this day he was constantly pushed to his own limits, with only his sense of duty keeping him by their side.

It was the times when everypony got to work that made him stay. The times when he could see the colts show off their true talent. Those made it worth having to endure. After all, it was not every day one got to watch a band make a crowd of ponies react this way, let alone be their manager at the same time.

"Fuck yeah!" Hayfeld screamed after the song ended. The crowd's cheers were almost deafening, making him grin. "Alright... this next one's gonna kill all the fake ponies out there. All the posers. We fucking hate them!"

He paused for a moment. "Uh... I'm not supposed to say 'fuck'..." he muttered, then laughed. "Anyway, this is called No Remorse!"

-----

"Hey Hayfeld!" Kirk said. "We're off to pick up a few more beers. You coming?"

"Nah, I'm okay..." the young stallion replied. "Go on."

His friend nodded, and the rest of the band marched off into the darkness toward the interior of the town, while Hayfeld stayed behind to sit on a large log next to the fire they made. He took a sip from the bottle in his hoof, then slowly turned to his left.

"You alright?" he asked.

The colt did not reply. His body was half obscured in the dim light, so for all the musician knew, he did not move either.

"Heh... still not talking?" Hayfeld chuckled. "That's okay..."

They sat there silently for a while, just taking in in the warmth and the dying light of the fire. The gray colt sloshed what was left in his bottle around lazily, then leaned back to turn his gaze toward the night sky. His eyes widened at the sight, and for a few moments, the faint buzz he felt from the alcohol dissolved from his head.

With no bright lights of a city anywhere near, there were infinitely more stars in the sky than he was used to. More than he ever saw in his entire life. If he focused his vision, he could even catch a glimpse of a dark, cloud-like band across the sky, which he recognized as the Milky Way from an old book he once read.

The beauty of it all brought a smile to his face. He sighed and leaned a little further back. His body felt like it was becoming lighter. The light of the stars seemed to be calling to him. He knew they were far away. Too far. At this moment, however, he was convinced that whatever he could see was well within reach. He felt like he could just leap off the face of the earth, and his body would drift through space all the way to those wonders above.

His gaze eventually sank back down, and he turned to the colt again.

"Good show, huh?" he said. "I'm glad you came along..."

For a moment, there was no response. Then he faintly heard the colt shuffle around a bit. A pair of whites appeared against the darkness as he lifted his head and looked back at him. Hayfeld squinted when he noticed what looked like a tiny smile on his face.

He chuckled and reached out to pat the kid's back. "Well, here's to you!" he said, then raised the bottle and began to chug it down.

There was a quick series of hoofsteps, followed by a gasp and a few muffled squeals. The crunching noises on the dirt reminded Hayfeld of the sounds of a struggle. He sluggishly glanced to his left.

The colt's eyes were wide as a pair of forehooves grasped him from behind. One held his mouth shut, while the other grasped him around his chest. He flailed violently, until Hayfeld saw an odd flash above his head, after which the colt went limp, and his eyes fluttered closed. The hooves released him, and he collapsed gently to the ground.

An odd feeling crept up Hayfeld's spine. It made its way into his brain, where it became lost in the mire of booze he pumped into himself all day. All he could do was sit motionless and stare as the pony behind the kid gestured at something in the darkness. Moments later, he heard more hoofsteps approach from all around him. The light of the fireplace was blotted out by something, and when he turned to look, he found another pony standing there. He leaned down in front of him, then reached out with his hoof to hold the colt's face into the dim light.

"Yeah, he's one of 'em," the pony said in a familiar voice. Hayfeld tried to remember, but the name just would not come to him, and it was too dark to recognize any of his features. Moments later, the hoof under his chin retreated.

"Leave the kid," he went on. There was a short pause, and he gestured at the colt on the ground. "Will he be okay? Didn't want nopony ta get hurt."

"Just a stun spell," came another voice. Hayfeld did not recognize this one. "He'll wake up in a few hours. Won't remember a thing."

The pony gestured at him now. "Use it on this one?"

"Nah, we need him awake. The spell would mess things up."

"Good," said the familiar voice. He glanced behind him at the noise and light emanating from just beyond the nearby houses. "Let's go then. A lotta folk in town tonight."

Hayfeld breathed hard, and his heart started to beat a little faster. He felt dizzy. He wanted to get up. He wanted to yell for help. He wanted to kindly ask the ponies around him what was going on. He tried to do all of these things at once.

A pair of hooves grabbed him from behind.

Author's Notes:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sa8oxSiE24k

Well, this took forever... again. I hope it was good enough as "the song of my return," though...

Bonus points if you spot all the references...