Those eyes. Those terrible, glowing, red eyes.

She had seen them before.

Octavia took a breath and let it out slowly. She felt better than she had in years. Odd, considering she had been kissing-close to corpsehood a few minutes ago. Her coat was still damp in places with fresh blood, and sticky in others where it had almost dried. Her mane and tail were torn, and her body ached from the stress of sudden regeneration. She knew she could not focus on the pains of the moment, but on the next note, the next line, the whole page. That was how she had learned endurance as a filly, as she had tried in vain to meet her mother's demands. Even perfection had not been enough, for even when her performance was perfect, she still played with hooves instead of a horn.

This moment would pass. A warm bath would restore her body. The cellist focused on that wonderful memory of soapy water against her fur, and let the feeling ease the aches in her muscles. Then she took another deep breath. Her heart pounded a little slower. The grey mare was in control of her body, not her fear. Fear had not gotten her on this stage with the Royal Canterlot Orchestra. Fear had not driven her to practice endlessly until she earned that honor. Fear was the mind-killer, and Octavia had no intention of letting it win this night. Her body was hers to control. It was the only thing she could call her own.

Her mind followed her body. She forced a calm memory into her thoughts, driving the useless terror out of her consciousness. It was easy to be scared, easy to just give in and let the fear rule her. Her mind was much harder to control than her body, and she often lost. Not tonight, though. There was too much at stake. She bit down on her tongue and concentrated, trying to find the root of the fear. It was not death, or pain, or terror of the unknown. This was a fear of loss. The cellist's eyes turned up to the posturing mare in front of her, whose purple shades had slipped down on her pale muzzle.

What was it she had said? "It's more than all that. I'm a monster."

A monster.

No, not just a monster. This was Vinyl Scratch, her roommate. The mare who hugged her after a passing carriage had splattered mud in her new cello case. The girl who had beaned a heckler with a bag of ice at an open-air concert. The friend who had promised to be here tonight, because Octavia had worried that something would go horribly wrong and she needed somepony to assure her it was not a dream.

The grey mare nibbled on her tongue again. No, certainly not a dream. She found the root of the fear. It was those crimson eyes. They told her that her roommate was different than she had ever been before, and so the two of them were no longer friends. They had shifted into two very separate categories, predator and food. Her friend had saved her, but also marked her for death.

If this was Octavia's first parlay with the paranormal, she might well have fled. The fear was well-founded, and it made a very strong argument. Her body coursed with life and energy, as though a thousand souls sung with her own, and her hooves longed to run. The only thing she had to defend against the weed of fear was a little seed of knowledge. She had seen the eyes of a true monster on this very night. The unicorn had slaughtered him just as easily as she might swish her tail to swat a fly. Before her, rambling on about some heinous act or another, was the monster Vinyl Scratch. In her mind was a far different picture of the pale mare. The cellist had to hold back a smile as she thought of the place of solace she had called into her mind to chase away her fear.

Manehattan, just past midnight. The bright lights of the city never flickered the same way twice. The view was one few ponies without wings would ever see, the highest room of the tallest tower as a playwright might say. The modern description was the penthouse floor of a skyscraper that rose high above the city that never slept. In the far distance was the Statue of Liberty, an ancient relic home to thirteen great firefly colonies. They buzzed about her in ever-changing auras of light, warning away wayward pegasi and airships. On the streets below carriages and ponies marched about like ants, carrying little sparks of light or huddling under streetlamps. It was a breathtaking panorama, but it was merely a backdrop, glimpsed through a massive window that framed a unicorn. She was snuggled into a couch with a Daring Do blanket and a crystal decanter full of some fizzing concoction.

In the memory, Octavia stood with her back to a crackling fire, practicing what she would play the next day. This was Vinyl's penthouse, where the unicorn had lived until the accident. It had become the cellist's sanctuary. She could play whatever she wanted, and nopony else would be the wiser. She could botch the whole piece, and the unicorn would not care. Up here, close enough to touch the clouds, the little earth pony was free. Free from the din of the streets, free from the demands of other musicians, free from the expectations and prejudices of others. If Vinyl wanted something from her, she would never ask. Instead the earth pony would find herself caught up in a roaring rampage of excited action, the unicorn's untamable enthusiasm driving them onward until the quest was complete, and the madmare's craving for stir-fry noodles with extra hot sauce satisfied. They were friends not because they needed anything from each other, but because both mares could relax in the other's company.

It was not those pleasant feelings that she focused on now. Octavia's mind was organized like a songbook, even her most treasured memories were only hasty scrawls next to pieces she had played. She paged through the practices that marked the nights spent in that penthouse, searching for things to fertilize the little seed of knowledge. Sometimes, the pale mare's glasses would droop, or she would slip them off altogether. Most of the time the irises underneath were a vibrant magenta, but on some nights, when the fire burned low and the cellist felt the stresses of the day building to exhaustion, she had glimpsed that red. Once, weary from setting up a concert hall, the earth pony had gradually slumped to the floor after finishing a piece. She had snuggled her cello close, and nodded off on the plush carpet with nary a thought. This was her sanctuary, her mind felt safe here.

When she woke, she saw those red irises, half-hidden behind purple shades. The mare's eyes were a soft red that seemed to dance with the firelight, and a cute smile stretched across her muzzle. At the time, still groggy, she had only thought that Vinyl was checking on her. So, the earth pony had hugged the unicorn and muttered something kind as Vinyl helped her to one of the many bedrooms. It had never occurred to her to question why she could not feel the DJ's breath against her fur, or the beat of her heart when she curled up next to her friend with her face turned away. Not until tonight. Vinyl might well be a vampire, but if so she had always been one. The cellist had simply never noticed the signs. Perhaps she had blinded herself to suspicion, thinking only the best of her dear friend. Octavia set her teeth to avoid smirking. No, it was because there was only a fang's length of difference between Vinyl Scratch the DJ and Vinyl Scratch the Vampire. Octavia had never felt the fur on the back of her neck prickle at some subliminal danger. Vinyl's penthouse was her sanctuary. It truly was a shame that the unicorn had blown the top of that skyscraper to bits.

That was the pale mare's way, though. She was a masterpiece of destruction and creation, but she splattered paint everywhere she went. Vinyl might well thirst for blood, but there was far more to her than just that hunger. Octavia touched her neck, feeling the soft pink silk of the bow-tie, and pulled herself back to the present. The fear had shrunk a little. The cellist knew that she had a little hoofhold of control. She asked herself if she wanted to lose Vinyl as a friend. To walk away from all the horrible jokes, all the immature pranks, all the bad ideas, all the suffering... all the cups of hot coco, the heartfelt apologies, and the way the unicorn would stop at nothing to see her smile. Yes. Yes, she should run. She ran a hoof through her mane. She should run, but she would not. Even when Vinyl dragged her off into some mad escapade, the earth pony felt more at peace with the madmare than anypony else. Octavia knew precious little about the evil things that crawled the shadows, but she knew much about her friend, and the grey mare would not let go without a fight.

The earth pony felt the fear wither, competing now with the flower of knowledge she had tended. Her mind was at peace, and her body ready for what she needed to ask of it. Pity that her cello was probably in as many pieces as the Concertorium, but her voice was her instrument right now. This was not the first time that Vinyl had revealed something she never would have suspected. Octavia glanced over the unicorn's posture again. Her friend was frightened of something, and trying to act like she was not. The grey mare's fetlock rose to the pink bow about her neck again, and she realized that they would either be walking out of this together, or not at all. The cellist ran her tongue over her lips. She had a stage and an audience. It was time to perform.

Vinyl was trying to be scary. She was quite terrifying when she growled and flourished her trenchcoat, but every audience had a weak point. All the grey mare had to do was find the right song and press her advantage. Important to keep her breathing steady, focus on each one as it entered and left her body. That kept the mind from spinning out of control. She had to keep her thoughts on the matter at hoof, otherwise she would break down into a whimpering mess if she let herself begin to comprehend what had happened on this night. So, one breath in, hold it four beats, and out. Wait for Vinyl to pause, shift her eyes, or show some sign of weakness. The grey mare smiled inside, at least one ticket-holder would see a show.

Vinyl had been talking for several minutes, long enough for the cellist to pull herself together. She seemed almost afraid of silence, linking one story into another until she almost tripped over her words. "...and then I tossed 'em into a piranha tank after I was done feeding. After that, I went after his boss-"

A half-breath in, hooves flat on the floor, use the diaphragm. "Because they were bad ponies, Vinyl."

"No, because I'm a monster." She growled. "I kill because it's fun, because it makes me feel alive!"

Perfect. A softer tone now, prop up the chin with a hoof, slant the brow a little more to show deep thought. "Then why did you save me, Vinyl? Because you were a monster, because you wanted to feel alive?"

"I..." Uncertainty was written all over her face.

"Or was it because you were sorry? Because you felt that you had done something wrong, and you wanted to be right?" The grey mare straightened her spine, careful to keep her profile small and nonthreatening. "Did you not strike down those other ponies because they were evil, and it was good to remove them from the world? Did you not kill the creature who desecrated this place because of his evil acts?" Octavia paused to let her words sink in, and because her mouth had dried out from a crawling horror in the back of her mind. Yes, the pegasus had been a brute, but she had felt the madness flowing out of Vinyl when she turned the Concertorium into a winepress. Did she really know the unicorn well enough to be sure that, deep inside, she was not the same as the monster she had killed? The cellist wrestled those thoughts down, swished a bit of spittle across her tongue, then continued. "You saved me because it was a good deed. Are you a monster, or a mare, Vinyl Scratch? What account do your actions really give of you?"

"It's not just what I do, it's what I can't stop myself from doing!" The vampire shot back quickly. "I already hurt you because I wasn't paying attention, and it'll happen again! You know what I am, and... and I know what you taste like, and I want it." She licked her lips and stepped closer to the grey mare. "You got no idea, Octy. I sucked your blood right out of your veins, and I loved every second. It's hard as nails to stop once I get my fangs in." That was a major upside to performing at clubs. A few groupies would not miss a few sips, and it was easier to pull away when the beast knew more was coming in just a minute. "You know what I am, I know what you taste like, and that means I can't be near you. I'm not your friend, and I never was." The lie burned on her tongue, but she said it anyway. The pale mare hardened her heart and pushed her glasses tight against her eyes. "All that was just a mask. I put it on to keep you safe, but that's gone now." She bit her lip. "I... I wanted a place to call home, and you were the only one who would co-sign a lease agreement after... Y'know. That's why I wore that mask."

A shiver ran down the earth pony's back. She stepped to the side, keeping an even distance between them without appearing to give ground. "Is that what you want, Vinyl? Is that why you did all those things, killed all those horrible creatures, just for blood?" She sat down and locked eyes with the vampire again. The pale mare's hoof slid back a centimeter. "Is that why you were roommates with an earth pony for all this time, why you perform at clubs, why you have an eighth note upon your flank?"

Octavia shifted her weight to her hindlegs. Her body felt full of energy, positively flooded with life. She had felt dizzy and frightened when she first woke, but it had quickly passed into an incredible sense of lucidity. She had to believe that the mare she had known all this time was greater than the monster that had hurt her. The cellist had her music on the stand, and the warm-up was complete. She paused for a beat, then began the performance proper, taking the audience back to the night when they first met. "Is that why you kept riding the late train all those years ago and talking to a nopony cellist who had no idea she was sitting next to a multimillionaire?"

"That doesn't matter, Octy." The vampire hissed. "All that's gone, because I messed up, and now... and now nothin's ever gonna be the same again. You said it yourself, and you need to get out of here before I give in." Her words sounded hollow even to her own ears. Deep inside, Vinyl wanted to hug her friend. She wanted to feel that warm grey fur without worrying about heating her own skin with stolen blood. Close contact with other ponies was a dangerous thrill for the vampire. It ran the risk of frightening them away, but it felt so good to touch somepony. It was a physical connection, just like the musical connection she made behind the turntables. Vinyl swallowed down more air, then found it hissing away. She could not speak, her mind was not done with her yet. Memories of her father cuddling her close, his warm fetlocks holding her against his suit, blotted out her vision. She shut her eyes and heard his heartbeat again. That was the rhythm she always used when she needed to imitate a pulse running through her veins. They had always joked that she had her mother's fangs and her father's heart. The pale mare hung her head.

Daddy. For a second Vinyl was terrified that she had said it aloud, but there was no air left in her lungs to speak with. His was the first blood she had ever tasted. She could still see every detail, how it ran down his fetlock and dripped into her mouth. More, more, never enough. Mother had explained that the beast could never be tamed, it could only be fought. Every night, she would have to fight it. Life was a constant battle for control. The filly had learned to curb her bloodlust slowly. Twice, she had nearly killed him for that blood. He still loved her, always and forever. Her father had always believed that she was the most wonderful thing in his life, even though he was also her greatest critic. That was why he let her feed from him. That was why he had given her the choice of ruling herself, or murdering her daddy in his sleep.

Her eyes lifted up to the mare in front of her. Vinyl Scratch wanted to tell her that somehow everything would work out, and go get some icecream. They could make it up as they went along. Atop that desire was a double scoop of fear. Her father had only survived because he was more than mortal. Mother had been dosing him with her vitae since shortly after he uncovered her sarcophagus. He could survive a thirsty filly from the lowest pit of Tartarus. Little Octavia was a warm meal with a cute bow. There was only one way to keep her safe. "Run. Run hard, run fast. Go back to the apartment, take all the bits and junk I have stashed under my bed. Disappear, Octavia, because if you don't, I'm not gonna leave enough left of you to fill a shotglass."

Octavia glanced away. The unicorn was scared, terrified of her own self. The cellist had to bite back a smile. In tonight's horror show, the vampire was more frightened than the mortal musician. She had counted herself dead as soon as that wretched pegasus had stood up from the front row and calmly ripped out the throat of the Royal Canterlot Orchestra's conductor. The grey mare was at the bottom of her grave, desperately trying to climb up while fate kept shoveling in dirt atop her head. But, for once, being an earth pony worked in her favor. She was rather good with dirt. "So, Vinyl, when did you put on that mask? Was it the first night we met by chance? Some random ride upon the late train after that?" She widened her eyes, adopting an innocent expression. "Or was it the night you clambered aboard the train reeking of cheap alcohol. The night you seemed absolutely torn apart, devastated from a show that had gone south." The vampire winced slightly and turned away. The mare bit back another smile. "The night before my audition with the Manehattan Grand Orchestra."

"Octy..." Vinyl began.

"Before that night, we were acquaintances. You tested me that night, for you knew what the morning meant for me, and so you tested me to see if I would help a friend in need even when it would cost me." Octavia let herself smile a little. "That was the night I helped you home, because I took pity on you. I knew how horrible failure felt, and your slurred words only compounded the pain in my heart. When I helped you home, it was because my conscience would not let me leave you staring out of the cabin window, reeking of the poison you claimed to have used to drown your pains."

The pale mare's mouth opened, but again she found no breath with which to speak. Octavia continued, her eyes wide and smile playful. She was still unsure why she felt so wondrous, but determined to make the most of it. At her core, she was an artist. Her upbringing had wrapped a very uncommon set of skills around that core. She had spurned the things her Father had taught her, helped by a kind attorney who managed her parents' estate after they passed. The wise old stallion had never understood why they never lauded her musical skill, and had done his best to convince her of the truth. Octavia was a musical prodigy, far beyond even what was expected of a girl with a treble clef on her flank. Her musical skill had earned her the right to stand on this stage, but now... now she was falling back on Father's training. The grey mare had carefully sighted the terrain, and set out her goal. Now, she was guiding her audience down the path she had laid.

"It was a cold rain that night, but my cello case kept most of it off our backs. You led me through a weave of side-streets, back-alleys, but I would not let you drag me through drainage conduits. Finally, we arrived at some backdoor, and you produced a key. I was terrified that I could not even find my way back to the train station. We stumbled inside, but instead of the down-hab dive I expected, there was a rather surprised security guard with a reassuringly large laspistol strapped to his flank. Once he recognized you, he rolled his eyes and unlocked the service elevator for us. You slumped against the controls before I could see which button you pressed." The grey mare coughed, her lung a little sore.

Vinyl tried to interrupt. "That night-"

"-was the night I learned that you had a penthouse only a block away from the Grand Orchestra's performance hall, closer even than the carriage stop. You let me stay there, asked me to practice, and soothed my nerves."

"Please, don't-"

"Ah!" Octavia held up a hoof. "What did I do to impress you that night, that you decided against murdering me while I slept in your guest bed?" The cellist finished coldly. She waited, gauged Vinyl's reaction, then continued. "I always thought that you faked your drunken stupor to see if I was truly a friend who cared about you, not what you could do for me. Tonight though, you claim to be a monster. And I can only think of one reason a monster would lure a naive cellist to her high-rise. So, did I entertain you that night? Was I simply too much of an innocent fool for your tastes?"

Vinyl's eyes burned. "Shaddup."

Octavia closed her mouth and swished her tail to the side.

"I kept taking the train because you were the only pony who actually cared about me, not the persona. Not the public image. Yeah, I was testing you." Vinyl bit her lip. "Ponies treat you different when they know you're rich. I thought you wouldn't, 'cause you're cool like that. And you didn't, because I was right." She smirked. "That's the reason I faked like I was drunk and asked you to help me home. An'... yeah, I knew that you were really hot about getting into that orchestra, because you kept talking about it for weeks. So, I figured, no better time than then."

"Would my blood be sweetened by my anticipation?"

"Heh, yeah." The vampire licked her lips. "Hormones, endorphins, all that good stuff. That's why I like to feed after a heavy set, the blood's all mixed up just right." She stepped closer to the grey mare. "But blood wasn't what I wanted that night. I needed to know if you'd treat me different, just like everypony else. An' you didn't. You really didn't have much, but you didn't envy me mine. So, I let you stay then, and every time you had a concert."

The cellist nodded. "You gave me a key, yes."

"Heh, yeah. And you never stole anything." She frowned. "You're no fun."

"Vinyl." She said in a quiet tone. Had to pick her words carefully here. "You have always been... what you are now, yes? You have always been a mare without compare in my eyes, but do not take that as a compliment." The pale mare would though, just because Octavia had told her not to. "You are different than I thought, yes, but that does not mean I see you any differently. Just like when we stumbled out of the elevator, down a service corridor, into your living room, and you clicked on the lights with a glow of your horn." The shock had taken her breath away. That was nothing compared to what she felt when Vinyl led her to the window and flicked the lights back off. Her first glimpse of the city from that high up had brought tears to her eyes. How could any pegasus not long to paint the vistas that were theirs by birthright? It had taken her many nights of work before she could produce a worthy musical interpretation of that beautiful sight.

The vampire shook her head and backed away. "No. No, this isn't like that at all, Octy. I needed a friend then. I wasn't planning to feed on you. I couldn't, because once I know what you taste like, I want it. I see ponies in the club, just bodies milling under the lights, and I know which ones I've bitten. Faces, names, how long ago, all that's forgotten, but the beast never forgets a taste. It wants everything you are, everything that you'll ever be, and it's always hungry." Her tongue slithered across her lips again. "It's an evil shadow that's always hanging over me, and the worst part is I love every second. I won't do the things I know I should do, and it's really easy to do the things I shouldn't."

"Not one of us is perfect, Vinyl. Not even the Princess Solar."

"Nah. But I'm one of the worst of the whole rotten bunch." She huffed out some of the stale air in her lungs. "This isn't like that night, Octy. I will kill you, and I will make you enjoy every second as I pull your life out through your neck." Vinyl hoped to the moon that her glasses were hiding the fear in her eyes. The scene played out in her mind, the vampire's imagination unbound by the savory blood rushing through her epidermis. One night she would slip into Octavia's room while she slept. Sweet Octavia, wrapped up in clean sheets with a neat little pink bow around her neck. The beast would finish what her claws had begun, and her mind had averted. Her masks were gone. She could see the red all over the sheets, hear her wretched laughter once the deed was done. Worst of all was the eyes. If she sucked out Octavia's soul, those purple eyes would always be with her. Staring quietly, composing, a constant reminder until the vampire found some way to end her own pitiful existence. The walls that had kept her safe, numb and locked away from the world had crumbled just like the Concertorium. "I know what you taste like, and I want it, and I'm nothing more than a monster." A shiver passed through her, caused by heat exchange and a nerve spasm. "I don't have a mask to hide behind anymore."

Octavia lowered her eyes and sighed, seemingly defeated. "I suppose... but, answer me this."

Part of the pale mare just wanted Octavia to vanish into the night, and another part wanted to tackle her so she could not. "Yeah, my mane's naturally this color." Vinyl laughed, the sound hollow, fake, forced, the laughter of a poser. The DJ was becoming the thing she hated most, but it was for a good cause, right?

The cellist chuckled softly. Her voice was warm, full of more life than any mortal should ever experience. "Which mask was it who would lay on the couch and beg me to read her the latest Daring Do book, since I did all the voices better than they sounded in her head?"

No sniper carved names into bullets. Despite what most ponies saw at the cinema, it was murder on accuracy. Besides, it was not the one with your name on it that you had to worry about, but the multitude addressed simply "To Whom It May Concern". A sniper was not dangerous simply because she could line up a crosshair with a target, the truly legendary ones were feared because they could take every variable into account and destroy what seemed impenetrable. A sniper was not a madmare with a gun, but a pony who had learned one of the most dangerous skills known. How to weaponize mathematics. Her father had always called execution the most beautiful of all arts, and it was execution he had taught her. It was the process of carrying out instructions to achieve an ideal result. The ripping away of every defense until death was a tautology. A sniper's work was an intimate thing, and while she did not carve a name into each bullet, Octavia certainly felt a connection each time she pulled the trigger. With her mulberry eyes still fixed on her grey front hooves, she knew that her carefully chosen words had done far more to the vampire than any bullet ever could. She heard the body crumple to the ground, and shifted her gaze.

Vinyl lay on the stage, her front hooves over her face, whimpering softly. There was no smile on Octavia's muzzle. She had wanted to be a musician, not an executioner, but her father had always told her that these skills would be infinitely valuable to her. Manipulation and Execution, not Music. What empire has Music ever crushed, or preserved? She hated to admit how right he was. The earth pony closed her eyes and breathed out slowly.

"I... I don't..." The pale mare choked out. She was sobbing, but no tears flowed from her eyes. "I don't wanna lose you, Octy. An'... an' I can't let you stay, 'cause I know what I'll end up doin' to you. I can't lose you that way either!"

"Doomed either way, aren't you?" Octavia nodded in empathy, quietly giving thanks that there truly was a Vinyl Scratch and not merely a ravenous monster. Manipulation and Execution had preserved her. No. He was wrong. Tonight had required all of her abilities, all of her talents. She had forged this fate with her own hooves, by her will. Her body, her mind, were hers. Her life was her legacy, not his. Octavia was, at her core, an artist. Not a Jäger.

Vinyl managed to continue after a moment. "If... if I know you're alive, that you're out there, that's better. If you stay, I'll... I'll..." She bit her tongue hard enough to draw blood, but the wound sealed as soon as she unclenched her jaw. "Please, Octy."

The cellist paused. She could run, yes. The set was over, her debit to the audience paid, but... but, no. Octavia pressed a hoof to her bow-tie, taking strength from the familiar token, and shook out her mangled mane once more. She was not done. This audience deserved an encore. So, she straightened her back and stepped closer to the vampire, close enough to rest a grey hoof on her shoulder. "No, Vinyl."

It was the wrong sheet of music. The vampire's hooves slid from her face, her eyes rolled up, and the cellist found herself staring into a crimson abyss. Then she was on her back, two white hooves around her neck and a dead weight atop her. "How far do I have to go before you believe me!"

It was the wrong sheet, but it was all she had to play. "Kill me."

Vinyl froze, her shades halfway down her muzzle. "Wha- what?"

Octavia was not fearless. Her stomach was twisting inside her belly, and her mind was screaming inside her skull. In her heart she knew what she had to do, but her body, clinging to a need for assured survival, resisted with all its might. "Kill me, Vinyl." Her voice shook. "That is what a monster would do, is it not? You had the chance, you did not." Her mouth was dry as the rag she cleaned her cello with. Her beautiful cello, crushed under all these rocks. "So... if you are a monster, do as a monster would do."

The unicorn saw the fear in those mulberry eyes. Afraid again of herself, she stepped back. Octavia was gambling everything for the chance they might still be friends. She was willing to give up even her own life. The vampire could smell her fear, could see the terror in her eyes and taste it in the air. That fear meant the grey mare was not some cocky daredevil, she knew how likely it was that the vampire might come down upon her like a manticore and devour her weak flesh. That was too much for Vinyl Scratch to bear. If Octavia had been fearless, staring death in the face and daring it to claim her, the beast would have felt challenged. This was no challenge, it was a gift. The earth pony had given her life into a monster's claws, knowing that nothing less would convince the pale mare that she was more than a rampaging beast held back by mental walls. The gamble was that even her life might not be enough. Indeed, it was not. It had not been before, nor was it now. Those pleading eyes were though. That look of fear, that willingness to gaze up into strength beyond her imagination for the hope of reclaiming somepony she cared about. It was... it was magic. Vinyl bit her lip, and looked straight at her cameramare. Film alone could capture these moments. Mom was right. Again.

Octavia, her brain idly wondering why Vinyl was looking at that patch of air that shifted oddly, remained silent. They were on a stage, after all. She was staring toward the audience, that fourth wall of the theater. Perhaps Vinyl was having a moment of déjà vu and wondering where her screaming fans were. It would be over a year before she understood what the unicorn was really doing.

"I... I'm not a monster." She muttered. "But I turn into one, sometimes."

The cellist lay very still. "Why?"

"'cause I have to. It's my curse."

Octavia pondered this for a moment. "Your fate, Vinyl?"

The vampire glanced back. "Yeah, I guess."

"Well," the grey mare sat upright, "after tonight, I think I can say with all my heart..." She pursed her lips as though tasting a lemon, then said with a smirk, "buck fate."

Vinyl leaned backward, then gave in. That was too much. She answered the cellist's smirk, then tackled her with a hug. "Yeah, Octy. You tell 'em, girl."

The grey mare wrapped her forelegs around her friend. They snuggled together under the stars until another piece of the ceiling fell and jarred them alert again.

The vampire was the first to speak. "Look... I don't know if I can hold back." She turned her head, pressing her cheek against the grey mare's as their eyes met. "I mean, I'll try, but I dunno if I can."

The cellist looked around the room. "And I will have to rebuild my life. I do not know if I can, but I must try. I... I really am dead, you know. Legally at least. I cannot be the only survivor of this, it would be a fate worse than death for my career as a musician." She squeezed the pale mare close once more. "It is really quite pathetic to say that you are the only pony who would truly miss me." The show was over, and so this was no longer truly a stage, it was but an elevated piece of the floor. Something broke loose inside her, and all the emotions she had dammed up flooded out. Octavia let out a polite little cough. "I believe I must scream and have a fitful moment of panic now. Would you mind terribly?"

Vinyl pulled back and tugged her headphones over her ears. "Go for it, babe!"

Author's Notes:

Sorry that this has been so long in coming. I have had almost no time to myself for the past month. I plan to release the next few chapters in a much more timely fashion!

This chapter was originally going to be about half this size. However, the long delay also gave me more time than normal to tinker, so the final product is much 'meatier' than the original outline. I put a lot of love into this part of the story, since this is Octavia's moment to shine. She doesn't have claws, or fangs, or even a rifle. She just has her wits and her words.

Sometimes that's all you need to save the day.

I took a lot of encouragement from the comments in previous chapters. If you liked this chapter, let me know why!