Click-clack, clickity-clack, click-clack, clickity-clack, clack-click...

The railcar was empty, save for the two of them. Few ever rode this late train, but the route was kept so that the rail company would have the engine in the right location to haul a far more profitable load of early-morning workers. Perhaps there were passengers in other cars, perhaps not. This was just a realm of memory anyway, drawn from the mind of the grey ghost who sat next to her younger self. A memory within an imagined world. Hmm, much like a repeat within a coda.

A deep chuckle came from the blue-hooded mare. She sniffed the air, then leaned toward the cellist sitting on the opposite bench. "You're a long, long way from the good side of town, my little pony."

Silence was the only response Octavia gave. She hugged her instrument case closer and avoided eye contact with the other mare, trying to appear as uninteresting as possible. She just wanted to get home and go to sleep, it had been a long, hard day.

As the railcar continued on, as oblivious to the drama of its passengers as a river was to the rafts that sailed down it, the mare in blue grew more curious. She ka-clicked open her switchblade and pointed it impishly. "You're neat."

Octavia looked up at the clock hanging at the rear of the traincar, then bit her lip.

"Y'see, I can usually smell fear." The mare's pale muzzle split into a grin. "And I don't smell any on you. But you don't look stupid enough to be one of those lilly-livered high society types who thinks she's too important for the world to let anything bad happen to her." Her switchblade clicked shut. "You know how to take care of yourself."

The cellist swallowed hard and kept her eyes on the floor. Perceptive of her.

"An' that's a good thing, y'know? A girl has to be able to look out for number one." The mare's tongue ran over her teeth. "Because what they say's true. This city'll eat a pony alive and suck the marrow out of her bones. Manehattan life's as fast as a shark."

Octavia nodded slowly, as though she understood whatever the strange mare was trying to say. In truth, she was quietly analyzing the owner of the dark blue hooded sweatshirt. Twitchy. Aggressive behavior. Seems to have a heightened sense of well being or confidence. The grey mare sighed. I am sitting across from a drug abuser. This was the last thing she needed. She just wanted to get home, go to sleep, wake up, and hunt for another gig. The cellist was not currently in an ensemble, but there were still plenty of freelance jobs available. Manehattan's high society lived on music as much as fine food and excellent wine.

The grey ghost bit her lip as she looked at her younger self. She remembered all too clearly how it felt to live that way, taking life one day at a time. It had been hard, but... fulfilling. That was the only reason she had been able to resist picking up her rifle and... well, selling her soul for life's luxuries. Octavia was her own mare, and the price of that freedom was eternal vigilance. If anything good had come of her Father's training, it was the assurance that she would not die by the knife of some mugger on a dark night.

"Ya kinda got a big case there for a fiddle, don't 'cha?"

Octavia's head jerked up in surprise.

A sly grin crossed the hooded mare's mouth. "There's a G-clef on your flank. Usually that's the notation for a violin. But you could stuff an artillery cannon into that case there." She prodded at a hunk of something red stuck next to an incisor with her switchblade. "So either you walk softly and play a big fiddle, or you're smuggling enough contraband to choke a minotaur."

"The treble clef is also used for the highest notes played on a cello or a double-bass," Octavia responded sharply, her eyes narrowing a little as she looked closer at the scruffy mare. "And I have no reason to fear the law."

A cold chuckle came from within the hood. "Relax, I ain't a narc. Just not used to seeing a real, live, cultured musician in this downzone. Shouldn't you be up top of an ivory tower or somethin'?"

With a hard glare, Octavia replied, "musicians live wherever they are able to find lodging." She already regretted getting into a conversation with the pale mare, but felt it might be safest to humor her. Manipulation is often preferable to confrontation for non-priority targets... It was better than accidentally falling asleep and waking to find herself robbed blind. "Why should they be any different than other ponies? For that matter, why are you not living at the top of an ivory tower?"

"I ask m'self that all the time," the blue-hooded mare nodded. "I need one of those. Oh, and I need a jetpack too." She rubbed her front hooves together. "Yeah... that'd be sweeeeeeet."

Octavia pressed a hoof to her face. Next to her, the grey ghost made the exact same gesture, except that she was smiling instead of groaning.

"Yeah, everypony thinks that. I'mma show 'em, though. Just you watch." Her switchblade clicked shut, and she licked a trace of red away from the corner of her mouth. "So, which is it?"

The earth pony blinked. "Is what?"

"Yer case. You have a cello in there, or a double-bass?"

"Oh." Octavia glanced to the side. "My cello."

"Shiny."

A moment of silence passed, seeming all the more quiet because of the railcar's click-clack, clickity-clack, click-clack, clickity-clack, clack-click...

"I... play the double bass as well, of course. I just... do not have one right now." In truth, she did not have much of anything. Instruments, fame, portable property... friends. Although she tried not to think about it, there were very few ponies who would even realize she was gone if she were to suddenly fall off the face of the world. Such was the pain of being a musician without renown; she was often regarded as less than a servant, more like a plumber who was regularly called upon.

There were some days she wondered if her primary source of income would be made obsolete by technology. Simply setting a needle on a record would never do for a high-class Manehattan dinner party, though. That was for the rabble. Live music was a luxury of the elite, and for so long as they needed that boost to their egos she would have gigs to play. Octavia yawned, then hugged her case tighter. I must not sleep.

"Did you, ah, drop it?" the hooded mare snickered.

"What?" Octavia asked, a hint of anger in her voice.

"The bass. Did you, hehe," she covered her mouth, "drop it?"

"No! I owned a double bass, but I had to sell it because of-" she bit her tongue, then took a deep breath. The objective was survival. This mare was a challenge, not a confidant. "Personal reasons."

The hooded mare grumbled, "way to kill a good punchline..."

Octavia turned away and looked out the window. Rain pattered against the glass. The pegasi had decided to water the concrete of the city at night for reasons beyond a musician's understanding. She swallowed hard. How strange she would seem to her ancestors. An earth pony who did not farm? Such a thing would be madness in the time of the three tribes. In their days, every earth pony farmed, grubbing in the dirt for food, and every pegasus spun the skies or fought. Only the unicorns, with their magic and mastery of the heavens, had time for luxury.

Only the master race. Masters of the heavens, masters of all. The grey ghost remembered her Father's words.

A shiver ran down the earth pony's spine, and she shifted the weight of her cello case. Those days are gone. It was for freedom that Celestia set us free. The railcar rattled onto a bridge, and she could glimpse the Statue of Liberty standing tall in the harbor. It was hard to see through the skyscrapers, but were not those towers of metal and glass almost as great of a testament to what ponies could create together in Harmony?

"Ulk," came from the hooded mare, and she slumped back in her seat as they neared the midpart of the great metal bridge. "Hurrk..."

Octavia tried to keep staring out the window, but... she could not. Her eyes turned to the pale pony wrapped in a blue hooded sweatshirt. The ghost reached out and touched her younger self on the shoulder. Despite all her Father had done, she still possessed... no, it was not some inner goodness. It was compassion. She knew right from wrong, knew how finite her own life was, and yet she still could not help but help those in need.

"Are you ill?"

The hooded mare looked up, her eyes still hidden. "Uh... nah." She plastered a smile across her muzzle. "Just... trains make my stomach upset. All the rattlin', y'know."

Octavia's ears perked slightly. The mare's voice was slightly strained, putting the lie to her dismissive words. Her earlier rush of enthusiasm seemed to be fading, the high of energy and confidence dwindling away into a void of listlessness. I should not say anything, but... "It will destroy you. That habit, I mean. It will poison everything you care about." She held her case close and rested her chin against it. "That is all they are. Poisons that rot your body and delude your mind."

"Uhhh?" the hooded mare cocked her head to the side. "Hades, I don't like it, but trains still beat walkin', y'know?"

"No. I mean the... the real reason you are feeling ill." The earth pony bit her lip. "I had a-a friend who... she let somepony talk her into using unregulated chems. To take the edge off." Octavia swallowed hard. "I do not know anything about you, but I know what happened to her. I was the one who found her body."

Silence filled the traincar for a few seconds. Then the train click-clack, clickity-clacked off the bridge and back onto the regular rails of wood and thin iron. The passenger with the pale muzzle perked up and threw a wide grin at the cellist. "That's cool of you to say, chummer, but I ain't on the drip." She rolled her front legs in little circles, then stretched her back. "Just get a lil' squeamish about rolling over bridges in a metal cage, y'know?"

A smile quirked across the grey ghost's muzzle. Chaos and Order. A vampire and a steel superstructure... What vampire, though? There was something teasing at the edge of her awareness, an identity forgotten...

"Oh." Octavia's cheeks slowly turned crimson. "I... I'm sorry, I just... you seemed... I thought..." Stupid, stupid, stupid. You must be far out of practice, to misread a target that badly! She swallowed hard, hoping that she would not fumble so badly when she was speaking with potential employers tomorrow. Her Father's training in smooth words was very helpful, and she tried not to think that she was proving him right every time she relied on it.

Manipulation and Execution. These skills will be infinitely valuable to you. The grey ghost remembered that all too well.

"Nah, nah, that's cool." The mare waved a front leg, a pale hoof slipping out of her navy blue sleeve. "And hades, you're right. I've seen a guy, cute too, OD right on the dancefloor. Boom. Gone like a fuse." She shook her head. "Music's the only drug you should need."

"An overdose on the dancefloor?" Octavia gasped. "Good heavens, at what ball did that happen?"

"Uh..." The pale mare scratched her mane, and a few neon locks slipped out from under the hood. "Club Chrome was hosting the Derptronix concert. Things got kinda freaky."

The cellist blinked. "Oh. Oh. I see." She coughed.

"What?"

"Nothing, I... you said dancefloor, and I thought you meant a proper dancefloor. For ballroom dancing."

"Hades, they spun a new remix of Ballroom Blitz right there at the concert, I dunno how much more proper you can get than that!" protested the pale mare.

Octavia smiled innocently and forced her tongue to remain still. Survival is the goal. "Of course."

"Mmm." The pale mare snuggled back into her navy blue garment. "Oh, I know. Clubs are evil, grinding up all that's good and pure about music so it can be mixed with rock guitars and synths, then spat out on a turntable to defile the ears of the younglings..." She wiped a trace of drool from her mouth. "Huh? Oh. Right. But y'know, if you'd try it out, I think you might find it's not all that bad."

The cellist's ears flattened against her head. "I need my hearing for my work."

"What?" asked the pale mare as she cupped a hoof to an ear.

"My work. My music. I need to keep my hearing at-"

"Huh?" She leaned forward. "Oh, that's just an urban legend. Club music don't cause hearing loss!" Her hood shifted slightly, revealing her horn and a bit more of her cobalt and cyan mane. Then, with a smirk, she said, "next you're gonna tell me you believe in lycans an' vampires too!"

Octavia took a deep breath. "I believe that my music is my livelihood, and also the passion of my heart. I see no reason to endanger either just to hear the the noise forged in a club of the night." She adjusted her bow-tie. "The mind only has space for so much, after all."

The pale mare raised her nose in the air. "Huh. That's odd. You kinda... you smell spooked now."

Survival. Say nothing. Give nothing. Guard what is yours and disappear. The earth pony sighed, then swallowed hard. Against that instinct, she said, "I... I am. I am afraid." She looked down at the floor. "Afraid of vanishing without my life having any true meaning, or... no, not quite that." Octavia shuffled her hindhooves and balanced the cello case. "I am afraid of living without being able to touch the lives of others. That is... that is why I play, more than for money, I perform because it is my talent. The gift that was given to me, that I might give from it to the world. That is why I am afraid..." she bit her tongue then after a few seconds finished, "of living as a useless thing."

The pale mare leaned her head to the side, her eyes still hidden within her hood. "Frack... that's from the heart, I can tell. But... you think listening to a little of the wub-wub will do that to ya?"

"I know that music played at volumes that exceed the tolerances of a pony's eardrums-"

"Bullsnot," interrupted the pale mare.

Octavia rolled her eyes. "Fine. I do not like it. I have heard a little, and I do not like it. The fact that it may also be unhealthy only cinches the matter."

A smile slowly crept across the unicorn's muzzle. "I do not like green eggs and jam, I do not like 'em, Sam-I-Am."

"What on Earth does that mean?"

"Story my mom used to read me." She settled back in the seat and wiggled her nose. "You're a musician. A real one, the classy kind. Most of 'em are snobs, but you aren't." The pale mare adjusted her hood. "There are musicians here, too. In the downzones, the urban sprawl, the gritty city. And there's a different kind of music down here. It's hard and raw, but it still kicks you up and keeps you going. You're used to the music they have up top, even though you live down here. Have you ever talked to a rock star, or an electrorhythm savant?"

I am still convinced half the words that come out of that mare's mouth are invented by her on the spot, thought the grey ghost with a smile.

Octavia the younger shook her head slowly. "N-no. I just... I have so much to think about already."

"Don't we all." The pale mare yawned, then rested her head on a front hoof. The movement pulled back her hood, revealing her magenta eyes to the grey mare for the first time. "So, you're not afraid of a girl with a switchblade, but you are afraid of sensory overload. Heh. Cool."

With a sigh, the other passenger turned away.

Click-clack, clickity-clack, click-clack, clickity-clack, clack-click...

Octavia had been staring out the window for several long moments, just listening to the sound of the train. Then, too softly for any mortal to hear, she whispered, "the high notes. That was how it all began, the high notes with the rubber bands wrapped around the drawers. I do play treble... Not what he wanted, too small, but I do play... the violin." A moment of rain pattering against the windowpane passed, then...

"But you don't have one right now." The pale mare's voice made Octavia start. She turned to look with wide mulberry eyes at the other passenger. The unicorn smiled, then continued, "because of personal reasons."

"How could you..." asked the cellist in wonder.

"Hey, maybe my ears ain't as bad as all that." Her magenta eyes twinkled, seeming just a touch redder for one instant. "Maybe I was readin' your lips in the windowpane." She shrugged. "You're an interesting mare, Miss Cello-case."

Octavia looked down at the floor. "And you... are a very interesting musician yourself, Miss Blue-hood."

"Yeah." The mare's eyes sparked with red again, just enough for somepony to think it was a trick of the light. "How'd you know I was a musician? Did my stunning intellect give me away again?"

"You have a passing familiarity with musical notation," the mare with the G-clef for a cutie mark replied, her tone dry. "And seemed particularly defensive of rock musicians. Are you one? A rock-and-roll performer?"

"Sometimes," replied Miss Blue-hood. "But most nights, I'm just a DJ." She hesitated for a moment, then shook off her hood. "I'm pretty good, if I do say so m'self. How about you?"

Octavia blushed. "I... well, I am... that is to say..."

"You must be. Anypony who cares as much about music as you do has to be good." The pale mare yawned. "I mean, you don't get good at an art form without a metric butt-ton of hard work, and judging from the way you're struggling to keep your eyes open, you're no stranger to that."

The earth pony blushed. "You do me too much honor."

A smirk appeared on the DJ's face. "Meh." She reached into her sweatshirt and pulled out a pair of purple shades. "I'm usually pretty good at reading a crowd, when I'm paying attention." The pale mare slipped the shades over her face. "It's how I became who I am today."

Octavia nodded politely. "Do you own your own club?"

The DJ pulled her shades down slightly and stared at the grey mare. "Uh... No."

"Oh." The cellist smiled kindly, then asked, "your own band, then?"

"You..." the unicorn leaned her head to the side. "You don't know who... ahhh." She clapped her front hooves together and snickered. "Well, if that ain't a kick in the ego."

"I am... sorry?" Octavia blinked, not quite understanding what the blue-maned mare in the purple shades meant. "Have we met before, somewhere? I am afraid I do not remember..."

"Nah, nah." The DJ smiled wide. "Hades, I'm nopony." She chuckled kindly. "Chee, and it's good to be nopony sometimes, y'know? And who are you?"

An answering grin appeared on Octavia's face. "Well, I rather think I am nopony too."

"Then there's a pair of us," continued the pale mare. "Don't tell!"

"They would banish us, you know." Miss Cello-case grinned. "How dreary to be somepony."

"How public, like a frog," Miss Blue-hood croaked. "To tell your name the livelong day to an admiring bog!"

"I would not have thought you to be a mare well-versed in poetry." Octavia arched an eyebrow.

"Hey, if you gotta sing, might as well sing something decent. Only way you get something decent is by learning from good stuff others have done."

The grey ghost rolled her eyes. Says the mare who blasts "Disregard the Constabulary" at maximum volume whenever we get into a vehicular chase with agents of the law...

"True enough, Miss Blue-hood," laughed the earth pony as the train hisssed to a stop at her station. "It has been nice meeting you."

"Nice meeting you too, Miss Cello-case." The DJ nodded in farewell as the grey mare stood up. "Nice meeting you... too."

The grey ghost smiled, the warmth of that moment once more filling her senses. Then she closed her eyes for just an instant, and when she opened them, she found the moment had changed once again. Octavia was still inside the train, still a half-transparent apparition who seemed to go unnoticed by everypony, but her younger self was once more seated on the bench. There was no rain outside, and the moon was high in the clear night sky.

This time the grey ghost did not stare at her younger self, but turned her full attention to the perky DJ on the opposing bench. Octavia knew what she was, remembered the vampire from flashes of combat and moments of peace, but who... the final piece of the puzzle, still evaded her. Her thoughts were murky, and though she had finally accepted that she was in a dream within a dream, it was hard to suppress the panic of never truly knowing if she would escape.

The sniper took a deep breath. One step at a time. Father and mother. Who I was. My bow-tie. Who I became. She emptied her lungs slowly. And now... this pale mare. Who I want to become. After that, she would be ready.

Author's Notes:

I did a little research on average chapter length in novels. According to one website, it's around 2500. The average novel is also 80,000-95,000 words long.

SOURCE: http://allwritefictionadvice.blogspot.com/2012/05/chapter-novel-lengths.html

Bon Hadescream was started as a one-chapter story heavily based on Team Four Star's Hellsing Abridged. I feel that it's become far more than that, and I have learned much by writing it. Finding out these statistics helped me realize that I am not writing Bon Hadescream as a "thriller" novel or a "compulsive page turner". It's a story about the lives of characters, their struggles with their physical and mental challenges, and their relationships with one another. The fact that the characters' lives are filled with deadly combat and supernatural mayhem is inconsequential!

This is much more of a "saga" than a novel, which also explains the longer chapter length. Still, it takes a lot out of me to write these long chapters. The main reason I prefer them is because it makes planning easier. I can bring up a thought and close it in the same chapter, while still leaving plenty of reason for the reader to continue on through the story to see the resolution of conflict.

I hope this story is fulfilling for y'all to read. In recent months I have pushed myself to update as regularly as my schedule permits, because I know what it feels like to have a story (or webcomic!) receive updates as though the author did not care about the readers. I very much value your viewership, and I hope you are enjoying this work.

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Finally, a short list of references in this chapter. (Not exhaustive, of course!)

"Green eggs and jam" is a wink at "Green Eggs and Ham", ponified since ponies do not eat meat.

"it's good to be nopony sometimes, y'know? And who are you?" is of course a ponification of the famous poem by Emily Dickenson, "I'm Nobody! Who are you?"

As always, thank you for reading.