Title:           Make A Mistake With Me - Chapter 8: I Hardly Knew Ye
Author:          MistakeAnon
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/rXQRDxMY
First Edit:      Thursday 21st of July 2016 04:35:26 PM CDT
Last Edit:       Last edit on: Wednesday 31st of August 2016 04:48:05 PM CDT

>It’s the scent of a building completely new to you.
>Far away you can hear the squeak of a sneaker against linoleum floor.
>Before you, a long hallway seems to stretch on for a mile, flanked by lockers.
>It’s far too quiet for a place like this. Must be because it’s a little past noon.
>You decided to show up fashionably late.
>Or rather, you were nervous enough to empty your pack of cigarettes that you had bought only yesterday.
>It was like stepping into the wonderful Land of Oz.
>Only you were an almost 6’5 Dorothy smelling like motor oil.
>Definitely not, Kansas, yada yada.
>You should know.
>Kansas was never this welcoming.
>”Anonymous?”
>You’re shaken from your stupor by a voice calling out to you.
>Absent-mindedly you scratch the back of your head and turn towards the source.
“Yeah? That’d be me.”
>”Oh, good. I thought I was mistaken for a second there. Well, um, welcome to Canterlot High! I’m here to show you around, on behalf of Principal Celestia.”
>Her mouth is speaking words, but for some reason, it sounds like a muted radio.
>Everything is sluggish.
>Wrapped in tar, unable to speed up.
>Sun shines hard into your eyes through the windows.
>The light frames her form like a halo.
>It’s painful to look at.
>You have to squint your eyes to see.
>But even then, it’s only vague colors, nothing definite.
>Maybe it’s for the better.
>After all, the girl standing in front of you sends a shiver down your spine.
>”Umm, are you alright?”
“Yeah, sorry, just… rough morning.”
>You try to focus your eyes again.
>You know this girl.
>Of course you know her.
>It’s… Sunset Shimmer, isn’t it?
>”Oh, I so know what you mean. We were having a sleepover last night and sure enough, none of us ended up getting any sleep and… heh, you’re probably not interested in hearing about this. Sorry.”
“Nah, it’s… it’s alright.”
>Something burning wells up inside you.
 
>You’re burning, but you’re frozen over as well.
>Try as you might, your face refuses to budge.
>You can’t even fake a smile.
>Dry eyes stare at the girl in front of you, clad in leather jacket and her lustrous hair streaming down her back.
>When was the last time you saw someone this beautiful?
>And for her, it seems so natural.
>Like she’s not even trying.
>Compared to her, you’re like a big lumbering ogre.
>Even your own leather jacket is crude and cumbersome when compared to hers.
>”So, I’m Sunset Shimmer! Nice to meet you Anonymous!”
>She offers her slender hand for you to shake, but you just like before, you can only stare at it dumbfounded.
>Something’s pounding.
>It’s your heart.
>Blood is rushing like a torrential flash flood inside you, filling your ears with their cacophony.
>You’re drowning.
>The friendly expression on that pretty face drops a little, and she seems unsure.
>It’s been seconds, but you still haven’t taken that hand.
>You can’t.
>You’re scorched from the inside and the flames are ever-hungry.
“Who… who the hell are you?”
>You take a step back, finally capable of moving.
>Your face twists into a furious expression.
>Why is she acting like this?
>After all that, why is she acting like this?
>So… pleasant?
>Meanwhile, your own heart is ravaged by rage.
>You can’t believe this.
>What’s going on?
>What is this situation?
>Everything was so clear just now, so why is reality getting warped by this absurd, this surreal encounter?
>”W-what?”
>Her face falls and for a moment, you can see how hurt she is by your words.
“Who the hell do you *think* you are?”
>Your words are nothing but a growl.
>But as hurt, as surprised as she is, Sunset Shimmer refuses to back down.
>”I just told you! What’s with you!? What did I ever do to you?”
>Doesn’t she recognize you?
 
“Don’t you remember?”
>Before you know it, the two of you are confronting each other.
>You’re so much taller than her, but she’s not fazed in the least.
>That fire in her eyes.
>It’s like what burns within you, but not nearly as hateful.
>She’s simply defending herself from what she sees.
>Someone she doesn’t even know, lashing out at her.
>But the question remains.
>Why doesn’t she know you?
>She should.
>You know her.
>How could you not know her?
>But you don’t know the *her* that’s before you.
>”N-no! I’ve never even seen you before! Why are you acting so angry?”
>Small voice in your head tells you you’re being an asshole.
>You agree with it all too much.
>She’s not the source of all these conflicting feelings.
>But you can’t no longer think straight.
>If this fire wasn’t within you, you would have probably fallen to your knees.
>It feels like someone struck your chest with a sledgehammer.
>So the only thing you can do is this.
>Take it out on her.
“You should know.”
>She clicks her tongue and knits her brows. Even a nice girl like her has her limits.
>She’s starting to get pissed off.
>”But I don’t!”
>All that comes out of your mouth is a derisive laughter.
>It’s so hideous it disgusts even yourself.
“I guess you don’t.”
>You snort and step forward, brushing past her.
>You’ve had enough of this absurdity.
>You know what this must be.
“That’s why you’re not Sunset Shimmer.”
>There’s only one explanation.
>So you decide to ignore her, knowing it’ll make her fume even more.
>Even if she lets you leave, even if she just stares angrily at your receding back.
>You know what’ll push her buttons.
“You’re just a baconswirl.”
>”What!?”
>She finally snaps at you.
>You know what’ll follow.
>This is when the real argument starts.
>You’re alright with that. After all, you want to vent out your own anger as well.
>And what better place to do it…
>... Than in a dream?
 
>Your eyes open sluggishly to the dreary darkness of your apartment.
>Faint sounds of breathing and light snoring fill your ears.
>Your head’s pounding.
>Yep, that’d be tequila.
>You make a mental note to never touch that damn alcohol again.
>Not even if you were enticed by a group of teenage girls.
>Because right now, you feel like there’s something dead and slimy in the place of your tongue.
>It’s like one of those louses you saw on QI.
>The type that ate a fish’s tongue and replaced it.
>Ugh.
>The horrors given to you by British panel shows are vast and many.
“Ugh… water. Bacon and waaateeer…”
>Letting out a warcry of hangover tribe warrior, you try to lift your body from the sofa.
>... Only to find out you can’t.
>Mostly because of the mass of bodies on top of you.
“The hell?”
>Well, that explains the fishy taste in your mouth.
>The source would have to be Sonata’s hair, currently in your mouth.
>Goof is currently wrapped around your right arm, happily snoring away the night.
>She’s in a pile of sorts with Lemon Zest and Indigo Zap, all three putting their weight on you.
>Your left arm, on the other hand, is numb thanks to Limestone having fallen asleep against you, head on your shoulder.
>Across her lap and yours is Aria. She wouldn’t be happy to know how close her face is to your crotch.
>Then again, she doesn’t look that happy even now.
>Must have something to do how she has to share her place with Twilight, who’s curled up on top of you.
>And speaking of sharing a spot, Limestone has had to do it as well.
>Funnily enough, it’s Trixie who’s drooling up a lake on Limestone’s shirt.
“Huh.”
>The second occultist of your group is leaning against your leg.
>It might be cliche to say it, but Starlight really looks much more gentle when she’s asleep.
>Case in point?
>She’s sharing your leg-space with Sugarcoat, Tree Hugger and Sunny Flare.
 
>As for everyone else, they’re scattered around the sofa.
>Looks like the lot of you fell asleep at some point while burning through the night with karaoke.
>The blaring light of the TV, showing the SingStar menu screen, still hits your vision.
>You groan and reach for a remote.
>It takes some trying, but finally you manage to wriggle your arm from under Limestone and press the red button.
>A small pop and the room grows dark.
>You let out a content sigh and allow your eyes to finally rest.
>As you do so, you notice something peculiar.
>When you look around you see all the girls who were partying last night.
>All except Adagio.
>Speaking of, you remember singing and dancing with her.
>A traumatic event to be sure.
>But after what?
>... What really happened after that?
>Your recollection is hazy at best, filled with nothing but pictures of copper-colored poof and a sultry smile.
>All seen through a filter that’s like a TV of a cheap motel.
>A terrified shiver runs down your spine.
>Hopefully you didn’t do anything you should be regretting.
>Chances are… slim, thanks to all the witnesses that were around.
>But then again, this is you you’re talking about.
>And drunk, no less.
“Ow, ow, ow…”
>Make that very drunk.
>So drunk that even now, you can hear the faint beating of your heart and whispers of some random song in your head.
>Huh?
>Now that you take the time to listen… there’s definitely a song coming from somewhere.
>You crane your neck around, towards the source of the music.
>What you see surprises you to say the least.
“... Adagio?”
>The girl that was missing is sitting at the table, cup of coffee in hand and listening to your radio with the volume turned down low.
[Embed: Kris Kristofferson - Sunday Morning Coming Down]
>”Ah. Romeo returns to life. Wasn’t that supposed to be the job of Juliet?”
 
“Mrrhm.”
>”Eloquent as ever.”
>Adagio snickers at you, but you can see from the way she winces that she’s not nearly as chipper as she’d like to appear.
>She rubs her temples and downs her cup of coffee.
>Immediately she begins pouring herself some more, but glances at you when she does.
>”Want some?”
“Yeah. Could you…”
>”Sure, just give me a moment.”
>She slides out of her chair and fetches a clean cup.
>A task easier said than done, considering the Ground Zero that is your kitchen right now.
>After pouring you a cup, she places the piping hot elixir of life into your hands, and you dig into it with fervor of a dying man.
>Your eyes shoot wide open as you taste the brown liquid.
“This is…?”
>Adagio smiles softly.
>”I tried to make it as you do. Thick as tar, twice as terrible.”
>You both chuckle at her lame joke, and you take another sip.
>She wasn’t kidding, tough.
>You liked your coffee horribly strong, and this was pretty close to your usual brew.
>Had she been drinking this?
>You had some newfound respect for the copperhead.
>You let the feeling of coffee pouring down your throat rejuvenate you, bit by bit.
>Adagio fetches her own cup and sits on the back of the sofa.
>Quite unable to care about appearances, you rest your head against her thigh.
>She absentmindedly lifts a lock of your hair, inspecting it as she raises her cup to her lips.
>”It’s almost as bad as our hair. We’re gonna need to tame this some day, you and I…”
>Adagio’s words are spoken softly, as not to break the congenial silence carried by the sweet lyrics of Kris Kristofferson.
>You’re thankful for that.
>After the surreal dreams you saw, not to mention last night, you’re in dire need of some peace and quiet right now.
>Funny.
>You never thought you’d find with any of the Dazzlings.
>But here you are, Aria and Sonata snoozing happily while Adagio amuses herself playing with your hair.
 
>You let your thoughts run free and take another sip of your coffee.
>The warmth on your tongue is slowly making you feel alive again.
>Bubbling in your stomach makes you yearn for something greasy. A proper hot dog or two.
>Hell, you could eat ten right now.
>Top it off with all sorts of things that you’d regret in few hours, and you’d be golden.
>As if to answer your thoughts, your stomach grumbles in protest.
>Adagio quietly laughs and cocks her eyebrow at you.
>You just shrug.
>What can you say? You love some grease whenever night before comes a-knocking.
>She simply shakes her head, amusedly, and continues combing her fingers through your mane.
>Guess it helps her relax and focus a little.
>Not that you’re about to complain. In fact it feels pretty darn good.
>A thing you’re gonna keep silent about.
>Nimble fingers brushing against your scalp with a feather-like touch… any man would enjoy it.
>Doubly so if it was done by someone like The Poof.
>At the moment, looking so content, she’s pretty radiant in the morning sun streaming through the blinds.
>Adagio would tease you mercilessly if she knew you were enjoying her touch.
>Last night’s vague memories are enough for now.
>Whatever happened, you’re pretty sure you don’t wanna go further than that.
>Only trouble would ensue.
>Trouble like…
“...”
>... Well, there you go. You managed to break your own tranquility.
>Now your thoughts are back to that odd dream.
>But more than that, you’re thinking about things from long ago.
>Things that are more or less unfinished.
>You try forget them, but every now and then they surface.
>Just like now.
>You make no excuses about it, you ran away to Canterlot.
>But even here, even if against all the odds you made a new beginning, it creeps back from your memories.
>Just as painful as before.
 
>”Anonymous? Is something wrong?”
>You look up, only to find yourself staring into Adagio’s big, brilliant raspberry eyes.
>Well, that didn’t take long.
>Even she could sense you tensing up.
>You down the remains of your coffee and let out a big sigh.
>Guess you’re giving up, in a way.
>But thinking about it from another angle, you’re finally standing up.
>In any case, you’re done being wishy-washy about it.
>You’ve made your decision, and you’re gonna stick with it.
>Perhaps because of the dream you saw.
>Perhaps because it got you thinking about the time before you came to Canterlot.
>Or perhaps because this drowsy Sunday morning atmosphere got to you.
>Whatever the reason, it led to this decision.
“Adagio?”
>She tilts her head a bit, unsure of your expression.
>Her hand has stopped as well.
>”What?”
“Today’s Sunday, which means tomorrow’s a school day, but… what would you say about skipping for a few days?”
>”Skipping? Whatever for?”
>You look away from her, gazing at the window.
>Through the blinds, you can see fresh virgin snow covering the ground.
>It’d melt away come evening.
“I want to go visit… I want to go visit my old hometown. There’s some loose ends I need to tie up. Some things I need to come to grips with. Company would be appreciated.”
>She takes a moment to consider.
>Which is followed by an encouraging nod.
>”Like you need to ask. Of course I’ll go with you.”
>Then, with a mischievous grin, she turns to look at the rest of the living room.
>”Right, girls?”
>To your surprise, every single person in the room raises their hand, and you’re treated with an unified, if sleepy:
>”Yeah!”
>Being nervous about it… now you just feel stupid.
>Directing your eyes to the ceiling, you smack your lips.
“Well, I guess it’s back to Kansas for me, then.”
>You can almost taste that dusty air.
“... Back to Independence.”
 
>The morning that follows is, instead of a quiet one you hoped, bustling with excitement.
>Plans are made, half-truths are being spoken over a phone, and breakfast is fetched.
>You munch on your Rodeo Burger as you watch Indigo Zap doing her best to convince her parents that:
>”Oh, come on, dad! I’ll be still going to school! It’s just a, y’know, a study camp for all of us! No, there are no boys coming, gawd! C’mon, daaaad!”
>She rolls her eyes and makes a strangling motion towards you.
>Only thing you can do is an offer a shrug of sympathy.
>This was quickly becoming a bigger thing than you had anticipated.
>Instead of just you and the Dazzlings, it’s now you and all of the girls.
>Even the Crystal Prep students, whom you had anticipated to skip on this, decided to tag along.
>After all, Twilight said she wanted to get in on the roadtrip.
>And where Twilight goes, her friends follow.
>So now you’re facing a different sort of problem.
>It’s easy enough to fit you and the Dazzlings into your car.
>Now there’s 21 people who have to get their asses from Canterlot to Independence.
>With you four in your car, that’s down to 17.
>Gilda and Lightning Dust take their motorcycles, and apparently Silver Spoon and Diamond Tiara want to ride with them.
>So 13 to go.
>Which is exactly the reason why Aria went to stop by your uncle’s salvage yard. Apparently there’s a car you could borrow.
>It’s also the reason why Suri Polomare is parading around the parking lot with her jet black ‘59 Eldorado Brougham.
>It’s a pretty car to be sure, but that’s all it is. Pretty.
>Hand-crafted custom body is nice to look at, but with 389 CID V8 OHV 16-valve pushrod engine it ain’t no roadrunner.
>Hell, when comparing their acceleration, your trusty Buick goes from 0 to 60 mph in half the time her Brougham does.
>... Not that anyone seems to care.
>The girls are too busy admiring the curvy lines.
 
>”Don’t worry, Anonymous! The Great and Powerful Trixie still thinks your car is the best one out here!”
>You roll your eyes and suck on the straw for some refreshing, watered-down soda.
“Gee. Thanks.”
>You’re not feeling jealous at all.
>You’re not.
>And the fact that Trixie is patting you on the shoulder is definitely not making things better.
>”Oh come now! A muscle car is always a muscle car! Even Trixie knows that nothing can beat the touch of wind in your hair during the drive.”
>She slyly elbows you and cocks an eyebrow.
>”And that’s not something you can get with a gasoline-guzzler like that.”
>You can’t help the smirk that appears on your lips.
>But that doesn’t mean you’re happy.
>It doesn’t.
>”Ugh, that took way too long. Dad can be such a pain sometimes.”
>Indigo Zap finally gets off the phone and walks up to you two.
“Everything okay?”
>”Yeah, I got the permission. So we’re all set, yeah! Are there still some burgers or fries left?”
>You hand her a paper bag, and she digs into the contents with fervor of someone who spent most of the last night dancing.
>Thank god for the King, coming in for the save.
>As you two finish up your breakfast, the sound of an European V12 engine fills your ears.
>To everyone’s surprise, another car swerves to parking lot from behind the building.
>Driving that sleek, angular form is a familiar-looking scientist.
“... Holy crap. Is that Countach LP500?”
>Twilight grins as she stops the car next to yours, it’s white paintjob almost melting into the snowy landscape.
>”Surprised? The stipend I get from Everton is usually spent on hardware, but even I can splurge a little every now and then.”
>You let out an impressed whistle, checking out the cab forward design and letting your finger run down a frame.
>It’s the best of 80’s, condensed into a single package.
 
>The scissor doors slide open, and Twilight steps out of the car.
>The scientist might have changed her clothes since last night, but the labcoat still remains.
>That faint smell of ozone around her still remains.
>She steals a french fry from your bag and begins munching on it, letting her eyes scan the perimeter.
>”Aria still hasn’t returned?”
>You shake your head, downing the last of your soda.
“Nope. I ain’t sure what sorta car she’s supposed to find from that trash heap, but she seemed sure-”
>You words are cut off by the piercing sound of Dixie Horn.
>All eyes on the parking lot turn towards the source.
>To your horror, a surrealistic mass of psychedelic colors enters the parking lot, with a certain Grump on the steering wheel.
>You know that car.
>It’s the old splitty that your uncle took in a month or so ago.
>A hippie van of highest caliber.
“Oh God…”
>You bury your face in your hands.
>This was the last thing you needed.
>Sure enough, with this you’d all be set to go.
>Four in Suri’s car, two in Twilight’s car.
>The seven that remain over fit nicely in that monstrosity of 60’s free love movement.
>Aria parks the car and steps out, scratching the back of her neck.
>“Sorry, Roadie. It was the only one that still was street-legal.”
>She glances suspiciously at the splitty.
>”And even them, I’m pretty sure Bobby was lying about it.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure he was. The last time I saw this heap of junk, it barely ran without catching fire.”
>Aria chuckles and pats the side of the vehicle.
>”Oh that? I managed to fix the best I could. I re-connected the high-tension leads and secured the distributor cap. I also had to tighten the jubilee clips since fuel was leaking into the engine bay.”
>You nod, walking around the van and opening the engine bay hatch and peering inside.
“What about the transmission? You ever figure out what was the problem with that?”
 
>”It was the bowden tube like you speculated, so I changed that along with the clutch cables. I also got around changing the heater cables. Even if the nights are cold, it should be possible to drive this thing around.”
>You let out an understanding grunt and scratch your chin.
>Inside the engine bay, as you expected, looks like a total mess.
>Still, Aria’s handiwork is clear as day, and rather improved from the last you saw.
>Days spent working at the salvage yard really haven’t gone to waste.
>You might not say it out loud, but you’re feeling a bit proud.
>That being said…
“Hand me some WD-40, would you?”
>”Oh, sure. Gimme a sec.”
>Aria skips back inside the van, and soon emerges with the bottle.
>To your shock, she’s not the only one coming out of the vehicle.
>That rotund form, that dirty trucker cap, that unshaven beard…
“... Uncle Bobby.”
>”Kid.”
>Aria manages to look a bit guilty.
>Looks like she didn’t manage to sneak out before accosted by Uncle Bobby about why the van was needed.
>You groan and snatch the WD-40 from Aria’s hands, shaking it before taking aim.
>Both the high tension leads and the coil-connected wires get a good spray.
>Better get moisture out before the trip.
>”Hmh? What’s with the auto shop?”
>Starlight Glimmer walks over, eyebrows reaching for her hairline.
>You nod towards the engine, and then glance at Aria.
“I’ve been teaching Deep Purple here some basics. She’s put them on good use.”
>Your uncle snorts derisively.
>”Dream on, kid. You idjits ain’t got enough experience or talent make an engine like this purr. Most of the work was done by yours truly.”
>Aria rolls her eyes.
>”Most of the old hippie stashes were also pocketed by you, Bobby. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”
>Uncle Bobby suddenly develops a hacking cough that mostly sounds like ‘ha ha what are you talking about.’
 
>Once you’re finished, you hand the WD-40 back to Aria and decide to grab bull by the horns.
>You confront your uncle, staring him straight in the eyes.
>You’re not about to budge.
>There’s no way Bobby is okay with you heading back to Independence this soon, but when was the last time you heeded his advice?
>Oh, right.
>When you came to Canterlot.
>And just look how that turned out.
“So? Here to chew me out?”
>Bobby snorts and spits to the ground, before staring right back at you.
>Suddenly you feel like three feet shorter before him.
>”You bet your ass I am. What are you idjits thinking? Back to Independence? Ain’t nothing good gonna come out of that. ‘Sides, you ain’t gonna make it. They’ll probably chase you out with buckshots and pitchforks.”
“I’m willing to take that risk. I’ve got loose ends that need tying up. You know it, Bobby. I just need this so I can get on with my life.”
>”And go back to where they hate your rotten ass? You’re just as suicidal as your old man.”
>You shrug at him.
“The last I checked, they didn’t arrange an actual lynching mob for me, no matter what happened.”
>Bobby has an amused expression on his face, and he lets out a sharp sigh.
>”Well, what can I say? Ol’ Unknown had that effect on people.”
“Plus, you know, the whole One Percenter thing.”
>You both chuckle.
>”Yeah. That.”
>After that laugh, an awkward silence reigns.
>You and Bobby stare at each other for a good while, neither speaking a word.
>He’s the first one to speak.
“So. You’re really going?”
>”Yeah. I gotta, Bobby. I don’t care if you don’t understand but… I just gotta.”
>To your surprise, Bobby reaches out and pats you on the shoulder.
>Then he looks over at the gaggle of girls who has gathered as sort of crowd around your talk.
>”You girls keep him safe, you hear me?”
>They all nod, Aria being the first one to do so.
>”You got it, Bobby!”
 
>With one last obstacle cleared, your uncle bids you all farewell and heads off.
>This leaves the group of girls, you, and a group of vehicles meant to take you all the way to Kansas and back.
>You’re all now gathered around an old map that you found from your glove department.
>You draw a line across it as you explain your plan.
“So, I was thinking we’d take I-80 all the way to Denver. From there, we’ll take Interstate 70 until we can turn to 135, which leads all the way to Independence through US 400.”
>Twilight, Suri, Starlight, Gilda, Sugarcoat and Lightning Dust all nod. They’re the ones driving, along with you.
>You fold the map and hand it to the group in the splitty. They’re probably gonna need it the most.
>The lot of you are trying to stay in one bunch, but stuff can always happen on the road.
“Let’s stop to eat around Winnemucca. We can think about motel for the night when we get tired. If we just can, I’d like to be at Independence tomorrow.”
>Another wave of nods.
>You raise your fist and spin it around.
“Alrighty then! Let’s get on the road!”
>With an enthusiastic yell, the girls pile on their respective vehicles.
>You and the Dazzlings head for the Saturn Yellow Buick, of course.
>Sonata and Aria cram in the back, while Adagio, naturally, rides shotgun.
>You turn the key and the engine roars to life, starting to warm up the car again.
>Familiar rumble fills your ears, and you turn to look at the Poof sitting next to you.
“Mind getting a tape from the glove department?”
>”Sure. Any preferences?”
>You bite your lip for a moment, and then nod.
“Yeah. Get the one that reads ‘Homecoming’.”
>Adagio follows your instructions, and pops in said cassette.
>As you steer out of the parking lot, taking the helm of your vehicle column, you push play.
>Familiar riff fills your ears.
[Embed: Doc Holliday - Dead Man's Road]
 
>And as the lyrics finally start…
>... you start singing along with them.
“I had a good friend,”
>You turn the steering wheel and take your vehicle out on the streets.
>From the rear view mirror you can see two motorcycles follow you.
>Behind them comes a mess of 60’s psychedelia.
“In my home town.”
>The traffic lights turn green and you accelerate.
>You hear a faint rustling as Sonata’s head bobs to the rhythm.
“Early this morning,”
>You hit the signal to the right and start turning, joining into the steady flow of cars.
>Many people heading out of Canterlot, even more heading back in.
>Weekend is coming to an end for some.
“They laid him in the ground.”
>Sonata’s head-bobbing stops immediately.
>Even she seems to have realized that this is not a happy song.
>Aria is wearing a forlorn expression as she stares out of the window.
>Adagio, on the other hand, keeps her eyes trained at you.
“He was my brother,”
>You can’t really decipher the expression on her face.
>Maybe she’s just studying you.
>Or maybe there’s something she wants to say.
“I won’t tell you his name.”
>Whatever the case, Adagio has clearly realized that this is not going to be a happy trip.
>Scratch that.
>All of the Dazzlings have realized that.
“He was a junkie,”
>Aria’s looking at you through the reflection in the window.
>Sonata’s leaning against the back of your seat, her breath tickling your ears.
“For whiskey and cocaine!”
>And so, as the song builds up to the chorus, you steer your car to Interstate 44.
>You crank up the volume, letting sound wash over you.
“Oh, no! He’s dead and gone!”
>Suddenly, you hear it.
>Three other voices that join you, silencing you momentarily.
>”Don’t go!”
>Three pairs of eyes look at you.
>Three pairs of worried, worried eyes.
>”Down the Dead Man’s Road!”
>Eyes you don’t want to let down.
>”The Dead Man’s Road!”
 
>It was somewhere after Elko, Nevada that Sonata got tired of going through your cassette collection.
>Something about getting sick of mullet rock and wanting something lighter.
>Unfortunately neither you nor your glove department could comprehend what she meant.
>Mostly because you had zero things that were hitting the top ten of pop charts these days.
>And the moment she tried to switch over to FM radio, your fist of fury was there to remind the Dazzlings that in your car, the only thing that was worth listening to was whatever was on a tape.
>Not to hit her of course.
>To be frank, you think you kinda broke your car’s CD-player thanks to your overzealous attitude.
>So, for the past 15 minutes, you had listened to Bobby Roode’s theme on a repeat.
>It was Aria’s idea.
>Sure enough, even Adagio had enjoyed on the first time.
>But right now?
>Right now she looked like she wanted to strangle both you and Purple Grump.
>”I swear, if I have to hear the word ‘glorious’ one more time…”
>Aria grins a bit sheepishly, and then makes a cutting motion across her throat to you.
>You mock salute her and eject the mixtape before the worst comes to pass.
>There was still plenty of driving to do, and the last thing you wanted was a massacre on I-80.
>With a sigh, you throw the tape back to Aria, who begrudgingly puts it back to her backpack.
>She probably stayed up all night one fateful day to record it.
>Out of all the Dazzlings, only Aria would do something like that, really.
“Fine, fine. I’ll try to get something a bit more modern…”
>You fiddle with the buttons of the radio while you watch the arid scenery pass you by.
>Nothing but the occasional passing truck and East Humboldt Range is there to keep you company.
 
>”Ooh! Ooh! Nonny, can you get us a mainstream pop station?”
>Sonata leans over your seat, rubbing her cheek against yours.
>Correction.
>You also had three teenage legendary monsters in your car.
>It’s a feeling you’re not used to.
>After all, usually it’s just you and crippling loneliness that inhabits the Buick.
>... Not that you care, really.
“No.”
>You crank the tuner and out pops a familiar beat that you’ve heard once or twice at Alabama Song while drinking with Shining.
[Embed: Yelawolf - Till It's Gone]
>Better than nothing, you suppose.
>Thanks, Jack FM.
>Adagio clicks her tongue, leaning her elbow against the window.
>Her dry stare tells just how much she appreciates all the miles behind you, and still ahead.
>Jack and shit, in other words.
>”You know, we could also spend the journey talking instead of arguing about music.”
>Her suggestion is not bad.
>Unfortunately…
>”Yeah! We could play some road trip games while we’re at it! I looked them up before we left. There were some super fun ones, like twenty questions! For realsies!”
>Yup, Sonata’s still in the car.
>”Ugh, play them yourself. Acting like a kid just because we’re bored… that’s the worst.”
>Aria’s quick to shoot down Goof’s attempts.
>Still, you don’t miss the devious smile in your mirror that Sonata throws at her.
>”Reeeally? Then why’re you always acting like a kid when Nonny’s around, Aria?”
>Aaaand Aria’s gone from pale to beet red in 3 seconds, max.
>That’s gotta be some sort of record.
>”S-shut up! No I’m not!”
>”Yes you are~!”
>”Am not!”
>”You *are*!”
>”Am not! Tell her I’m not, Roadie!”
>Aria’s desperate look is almost… cute, though you’d never tell her that.
>Adagio, on the other hand, is rubbing her temples hard enough to dig a hole in her head.
>”Girls, please. Sitting in this car isn’t any more bearable with you two acting like five year olds.”
 
>A soft ‘Boo’, is Sonata’s only response. Aria, on the other hand, looks relieved.
>Adagio fishes out a can of Dr. Pepper  from the small icebox, popping it open and taking a frustrated gulp.
>”What I meant was: we’re sitting here for a long time. At least I would like to do something creative with that time. For example…”
>Her narrowed eyes turn towards you.
>”Independence, Kansas, right? So… that’s where you were born.”
>She lets the meaning of the words hang heavy in the air.
>You’re a bit disappointed there’s no beer with which to ease the awkwardness.
>Still, there’s Blue Weenie willing to rescue your ass.
>”Hey, that’s right! Nonny, you should totes tell about that! What were your family and hometown like?”
>Aaaand she’s dug you deeper into the swamp.
>Even Aria pulls her back rather forcefully, making a much-telling glare towards her and you.
>Sonata seems to realize she touched a rather sensitive subject, as her happy expression falls.
>But… hell, you’ve come so far.
>You might as well put all the cards on the table.
“Nah, it’s alright Aria. I don’t mind talking about it. And you three… you deserve to know.”
>You scratch your chin and press and hit the cigarette lighter.
>After winding down your window a bit and letting the cold air in, you fish a smoke from your pocket and light it up.
>After a calming drag, and blowing the smoke out of the window, you start talking.
“Let’s see… yeah. I was born there, in Independence, about 18 years ago. Fifth of April, 1994 to be exact. Almost came out kicking and screaming on the back of a 1979 Chevy pickup, but my old man was sober enough to drive mom to the hospital.”
>Adagio stares at you, and you can almost hear the gears in her head grinding.
>Sonata’s not catching on, but Aria? She almost jumps at you from her seat, eyes bulging from surprise.
 
>”Hold on! Roadie, you serious? April 5th, 1994!?”
>You chuckle laconically, taking another drag off your cigarette.
“Yeah. Same day Ol’ Kurt shot himself. When I picked up guitar, my old man used to joke about it. Never was as good, though. Or as famous.”
>You try to grin, but it comes off as a bit bitter.
>Some scars still itch.
“Anyways, I had a pretty uneventful childhood. We lived in this trailer house on West Sycamore Street. I went to IHS, hung out behind Pharaoh 4 when we didn’t have money to catch the latest movie and listened to vinyls at Grimey’s store. Sure, I had a handful of friends, but we got along just fine.”
>You tap the wheel with your fingers to the rhythm of the beat.
“My mom, Outis, was a singer. Never got famous or earned enough to get by without my dad, but she was happy. My old man though? He rode with El Forastero. Ol’ Unknown was a pretty big name in his hay day, enough to throw his weight around and get me my patches around 2010. And even before that, I practically grew up amongst the brotherhood. Hell, I even met Mann; you know, that artist?”
>You’re not surprised that Aria nods.
>She, if anyone, would know about him.
>”Yeah. I think Bobby has some of his works at the salvage yard?”
“That’s the man. Anyways, at the same time me and my friends from IHS got together and started a band. We played mostly at Grimey’s place, but after a while we got more popular. Bigger venues, bigger audiences, better pay… all seemed to work like a dream. And it did. It did until…”
>You fall silent, against your will.
>Your grip on the steering wheel tightens.
>It’s not something you want to think about. Even if you’re going to confront that very same thing, you don’t want to think about it yet.
>Not while you’re driving.
“Well... you’ll see. You’ll see when we get there.”
 
>To your surprise, you feel something warm against your hair.
>A quick glance to the rear-view mirror reveals Sonata’s petting your head.
>Aria has an odd look on her face; a mix of worry and something gentle.
>Adagio though? She only flashes an encouraging smile at your direction, before turning her eyes back to the scenery outside the window.
>Something stirs within your chest.
>It’s almost… reassuring.
>To know that these three are with you, even though you’re headed towards Independence gives you more strength than you expected.
>”Nonny?”
>You glance upwards, your eyes meeting those of Sonata.
“Yeah?”
>”Don’t worry. It’ll be fine, for realsies!”
>Giving you the biggest grin she can muster, Sonata pats your shoulder with all the force behind that tiny frame of hers.
>Which is quite a lot.
>Enough to make you wince in pain.
“W-what would I worry about?”
>You try to mask how you were caught unawares by focusing on your cigarette.
>It should also mask the fact that your cheeks felt oddly hot all of a sudden.
>Aria’s low cackle isn’t helping things.
>”Well, I mean…”
>Sonata puts her finger on her chin quizzically.
>Adagio takes a sip of her soda.
>”We don’t mind that you’re an easy rider.”
>Adagio spits out her soda.
>Your sputtering protests, ones that almost caused you to swallow your cigarette, are drowned by Aria’s howling laughter.
>Sonata just tilts her head at you three, looking confused.
>”What? What did I say?”
“I-I’m not an easy rider! Goddammit, don’t ever say that!”
>You feel blood rushing to your head, and it’s no longer your cheeks that are red.
>Your whole head must be red from embarrassment.
>Aria nearly folds in two thanks to an inescapable giggle fit.
>”H-h-he totally i-is! Roadie’s a t-t-total easy rider! That hair! That *hair* proves everything!”
 
“Don’t mock my hair!”
>You turn to Adagio for help.
“My hair’s fine, right!?”
>To your horror, even copperhead has turned her head away not to succumb to whatever hilarity she finds in this situation.
>”S-sure. It is… it is just… f-fine.”
“Oh come on!”
>Grumbling in your blushing anger, you slump against the steering wheel, doing your best not to swerve in front of an incoming semi and ending this all.
>The hell’s so funny about it?
>There’s nothing funny about you riding a motorcycle.
>Or your looks!
>There’s not!
>”J-just imagine it! Roadie, riding a chopped up harley on an open road, that magnificent L’oréal hair blowing in the w-w-wind!”
>Aria proceeds to lose it once more, her sides escaping from the car and shooting past your Buick, going 88 miles per hour and leaving behind a flaming trail.
>Even Sonata’s giggling now, even though she probably has no idea why it’s so funny.
>Adagio does her best to wipe the splattered soda from the front window, only managing to smudge it in the process.
>The way she’s biting her lip, looking like she’s choking, tells you all about what she’s imagining right now.
>Damn it all to hell.
>If it’s come to this, you’re going to strike back.
“I see, I see. Well, laugh all you want. I know a certain someone who didn’t mind my hair at all this morning.”
>You try your best to not sound like a petty child being bullied at the sandbox.
>You fail miserably.
>Adagio, however, lights up like a christmas tree.
>Ah, revenge.
>A dish best served lukewarm like the beer in your trunk.
>”W-what? Who? Nonny, who said that?”
>Sonata peers over your seat with a radiant expression of curiosity plastered on her face.
>You smile smugly and glanced towards the copperhead next to you.
“Oh, just someone who amused herself by playing with it for quite a while. Dunno if I can reveal the name though…”
>”H-hooh? Mind telling us, Roadie? This sounds sorta interesting…”
 
>Aria’s eyebrows are twitching like mad.
“Well let’s just say the name starts with-”
>Before you can utter anything else, Adagio yanks you by the collar..
>Her cheeks are a marvelous shade of red but her eyes make you want to pee your pants.
>”Not. Another. Word.”
>Her hiss is full of venom.
“I wasn’t going to say anything. But looks like you already ousted yourself…”
>You nod towards the two other sirens, who are staring bug-eyed at their eldest.
>A second passes.
>Two.
>Adagio proceeds to curl up in a ball of shame as Sonata and Aria explode into a cacophony of accusatory questions.
“... Jesus.”
>You couldn’t be more relieved when you feel your phone vibrate.
>You pick it up, only to hear the very tired voice of Sugarcoat.
>”When are we going to stop for the night? I regret to inform you but Tree Hugger has smuggled all the liquor remaining from last night in here.”
>You glance into your rear-view mirror and spy at the splitty.
>What you see reminds you of a small rave party confined within the space of four wheels, driven by two very disgruntled girls.
>You pinch your nose, trying to drown out the noises caused by the arguing Dazzlings.
>It’s easier said than done, though.
>Especially with Sonata yelling something about how Adagio broke the truce or somesuch.
“Okay.”
>You know they’re not gonna like this.
>But you really want to get the most of the travelling done today.
“Sorry, but it’s gonna be a while. I wanna get us to Laramie, if possible. So that means… nine more hours?”
>Something that sounds like a dying moose can be heard from the other end of the line.
“B-but don’t worry! We’ll stop by Red Wok or something at Erda!”
>You hear the phone being snatched from Sugarcoat, and Starlight’s hoarse voice fills your ears.
>”Promise me one thing, Anonymous.”
“What?”
>”When we get to Laramie, we’re getting absolutely hammered.”
“...”
>You floor the gas pedal.
“You have my word.”
 
>“So, uh… why are we here again?”
>Sunny Flare eyes you suspiciously while twisting open her root beer and taking a swig from it.
>You cock an eyebrow at her.
>The cigarette on your lip quivers.
“Riddle me this, Malibu… where are 21 nigh-penniless students supposed to spend their night while on a roadtrip? A motel?”
>She looks like she’s about to fire back some comment, but realization dawns upon her.
>Her raised finger, and arm entirely, flops against her side and her expression drops.
>”That is actually a pretty well-made point.”
“Yeah? We could try some bodunk motel out on the road, but I’d rather sleep someplace I can trust.”
>You raise your hand, almost like you were presenting Miss Deep South, towards the building before you.
>It’s… not much better, to be honest.
>The wooden three-story building looks like it’s just about to fall over. The walls were covered in metallic fishnet where various car parts, such as mufflers and dustcaps, hung like Yuletime decorations.
>About a dozen of gaudy motorcycles had been parked to the pavement before it, and rest of the vehicles were old muscle cars.
>On top of it all was the barely-working neon sign that kept flashing two words.
>”Lucille” and “Open”.
“It might not look like much, but I know the person who owns this place. I think we can manage to get a place to sleep here… unless you want to spend the rest of the night hustling pool with me?”
>You shoot Flare a devious grin, and she pretends to think for a moment.
>”Oh, my, let’s s-Howaboutno!?”
>She throws her arms in the air with frustration.
>”Why me? Why did I have to keep up that stupid act with you when we got here?”
“Because we were pretty broke and that’s the only way I know how to make money while on the road. Not to mention the rest of them don’t even know how to play pool. And…”
 
>You kick open the icebox next to you and fish out a bottle of Pabts Blue Ribbon.
“That ‘act’ let us buy all this stuff *and* that root beer you’re drinking.”
>Flare’s eyes hover from the bottle to you humorlessly.
>However, she eventually breaks into a grin and bumps you in the shoulder with her fist.
>”I knew there was a reason I liked you. Class or not, you at least know how to keep a lady entertained.”
>You put the bottle back and shoot her a look with a raised eyebrow.
“As long as you don’t start acting like you did last night. I think that was quite drunk enough, no?”
>Huh. She has enough modesty to actually blush a bit.
>Sunny Flare scratches her cheek with her finger, refusing to meet your eyes.
>”I’d been meaning to say… so sorry about that. The alcohol got me a bit, didn’t it?”
>You cackle.
“More than just a bit. Not that I’m someone to talk…”
>You both get a little amusement out of that, enough for Twilight to be curious when she finally walks up to you two.
>”Hmh? What are you two talking about?”
>Flare just shakes her head and pats you on the shoulder in a rather familiar way.
>”Nothing much. We were simply flirting, right?”
>Ah, forehead. Allow me to introduce: palm.
>This isn’t the first time you’ve met, is it?
>”Y-you were?”
>Twilight looks between you two, seeming a bit flustered.
>”Sorry. I didn’t mean to-”
“Stop it.”
>You put a hand on the scientist’s shoulder and look her dead in the eyes.
“Just… no. You really think I’d be randomly flirting at this point of the night?”
>Twilight folds her arms and glances at the icebox.
>”Well, you have been drinking a bit…”
“A bit! I just took like a one beer-”
>Flare snorts.
>”He’s had three.”
“Whatever! The point I’m trying to make that I have better things to do than be hitting on Flare here.”
>Wait what.
>Why is she actually looking offended because of that?
 
>”That being?”
>You groan and roll your shoulders.
“Again, getting us a place to sleep.”
>Letting out a loud ‘hmph!’, Malibu turns her back to you.
>You look at Twilight, trying to make some sense of the situation.
>To your utter confusion her eyes seem to blame you.
>The scientist points at Flare, as if you’d know what she meant by that.
>Okay, fine.
>You heave a heavy sigh.
“Tell you what, Malibu. Once I’ve gotten us the place to sleep, I’ll flirt with you as much as you want.”
>You pat her on the shoulder, trying to sound as diplomatic as possible even though you’re spouting total nonsense at the moment.
>Too bad your answer is just silence.
>Wait a second.
>Why are Flare’s shoulders shaking like that?
>Is she cr-
“Are you laughing!?”
>Both Sunny Flare and Twilight burst out into laughter at your outburst.
>You feel your cheeks flush, and angrily stomp away, grumbling under your breath.
>This is why you hated teenage girls.
>Nothing they did made any sense.
>”Sorry Anonymous! We didn’t mean anything bad with it.”
>Wiping tears of joy from her eyes, Twilight catches up to you, as does Flare.
>”Just a little teasing, man.”
>You grumble some more, determined not to talk to them anymore.
>They deserve some silent treatment.
>”Oh, stop being like that.”
>To your utter shock, Flare links her arm with yours.
>”Now let’s go get those rooms for us.”
>Twilight giggles and does the same. Suddenly you find yourself sandwiched between girls half your height.
>You really don’t want to admit it, but… damn they smell good.
>”She’s right, Anonymous. Stop grumbling and lead the way. Seeing that everybody else out at the gas station getting the vehicles refilled, we might enjoy this rare moment of having you all to ourselves.”
>The two of them lean their heads against your shoulders with a dramatic flair.
>This is why you hated teenage girls.
>They made it impossible to actually hate them.
 
>Inside the roadside bar known as Lucille lights are dim and the music is relaxing.
>Well, relaxing if you’re into Bog Seger.
[Embed: Bog Seger - Turn the Page]
>That doesn’t mean it’s empty though.
>Oh no, looks like the place is packed with locals as usual.
>There are some bikers over in the corner, and you see more than your share of Stetsons.
>Trailer park people milling with guys who think they’re keeping the dead cowboy culture alive.
>What keeps the place from falling into the typical traps of a roadside bar is that it’s actually Shoshone-owned.
>Meaning that there was also a fair share of Native Americans milling about.
>And lo and behold, no fight between the two demographics was a-brewing.
>Had probably something to do with the fact that the owner of the bar was as big as a grizzly and twice as angry.
>Still… it wasn’t exactly a place where teenage girls were a typical sight.
>Sure enough, you blended in with your leather jacket and looks.
>Hell, even Sunny Flare’s grunge-inspired Hawaii shirt made her look somewhat the part.
>But Twilight?
>She was like a citybred, well-educated fish in drunken, white trash shark-infested waters.
>So, as to not draw any more attention to you three, you made beeline to the counter, shaking off the two girls who were still clinging to you.
>You flop down on a stool and swing to face the bartender, who’s already grinning from ear to ear.
>”Well, well, Anonymous. I was waiting for you.”
>You snort at her.
“Stop lying, Strongheart. You had no idea I was coming.”
>She laughs and steals a pint from the hook, setting it on the table and starting to fill it.
>You take a good look at the girl as she’s filling your drink.
>You and Little Strongheart go back a few years, and have known each other long before you went to juvie.
 
>It was back when you were just riding around, a bit before you got your patches.
>Somehow or another you got mixed up in this nasty land-claim argument with Strongheart’s tribe and some local farm owners.
>You helped her out, and afterwards, your band had a place to play whenever near one of their bars.
>... Still, you have to admit.
>You never thought she’d fill up this nice.
>Looking at her, she’s growing up to be one hell of a woman.
>There’s not a single inch of useless fat on her, and her muscles are like those of a track runner.
>Those tight jeans are hugging the hell out of her tights, and the denim jacket accentuates her curves just the right way.
>The brown fringe vest and the lazily put-on bolo tie mix her otherwise feminine appearance just enough to make her fit a place like this.
>”Oh? Seeing something you like, Anonymous?”
>You’re waken from your stupor, and realize you’ve been staring at the girl for a good half minute.
>You immediately avert your eyes, but the damage is already done.
>Thank God that the girls around you just laugh about it.
“N-nevermind that. Anyways, what’s up, Strongheart?”
>You two fistbump and she hands you the beer before taking orders from Flare and Twilight.
>”Not much. Dad’s leaving me in charge of this place more lately. Guess he finally understood that I’m not a little girl anymore.”
>You remember Strongheart’s dad well.
>Now there was a hulking brute of a man.
>Good company, though. Especially when drinking.
“Keeping busy, eh? That’s good, that’s good.”
>You take a swig of the beer, and she nods.
>Still, you can see her smile has a bit of fatigue in it.
>”Yeah, well… it’s nice to be trusted, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t get tough, balancing work and school. Lately I’ve been meaning to take a small break. You know, clear my head a bit.”
 
>Twilight gladly accepts the glass of Jim Beam. Her eyes shine a bit, just like they always do when she gets an idea.
>”Hey, you should come visit Canterlot! Anonymous is living there these days. We could show you around, visit all the best places.”
>Strongheart cocks an eyebrow at you while pouring Flare her Budweiser.
>”Canterlot? Isn’t that all the way in California? How come you’re cruising there these days?”
“Life at Independence got a little.. hard after juvie. Bobby figured a change of scenery was in order. And damn did he make the right choice.”
>You glance at both Flare and Twilight, and shrug at the girl behind the counter.
“Met plenty of good people, got back to school, and been thinking of picking up music again.”
>Looks like Strongheart’s not completely buying it though.
>She was always a bit too smart about these things for her own good.
>”So, why are you here now?”
“Oh, that’s…”
>You try to pick your words carefully.
“I’m heading back to Independence. There’s some loose ends I need tie up before I can settle completely to my life in Canterlot. You know how it goes.”
>To your surprise, Strongheart reaches over the counter and pats you on the shoulder.
>Man, that’s some hefty power she’s got.
>She must have a punch as mean as Gilda’s.
>”Just try not to get burned, alright? I can’t say I wasn’t worried about after I heard you being put behind the bars.”
>She then folds her arms, managing to look a bit angry even though she’s sporting her typical grin.
>”I mean, a simple call would’ve put my mind at ease. But nope, not a peep in year or two. I’m glad you’re doing alright in your new home but don’t just go forgetting those you left behind.”
>You feel a pang of shame darken your mood.
>Staring into your pint, you mutter a quiet apology.
“... Sorry, Strongheart. I was a mess, sure, but I should’ve sent a word or something.”
 
>”Hey, don’t worry, don’t worry! At least I know you’re okay now.”
>She smiles gently at you, and then leans against the counter.
>”And since you’re here, I think I might just end my shift early. There’s lot to catch up with, and I intend to drink tonight.”
>All four of you laugh at that.
>It’s strange, but this actually feels nice.
>You never thought you were that close to Strongheart, to be honest.
>Your memories from that time are a bit blurry at best.
>Yet she cared this much?
>If nothing else, it makes you feel humble.
>... and glad that you’re meeting up with her again.
>You made the right call to stop at Laramie.
“Actually, before you do that, could I ask you something?”
>”Shoot.”
“See, like I said we’re on a bit of a roadtrip with my friends. I was wondering if we could use The Shack tonight? Getting everyone a motel room would cost too much, and I figured we could do the usual.”
>You point at the back of the bar, where a familiar stage sits in the darkness.
>Protected by a mesh fence from top to bottom, it had seen its fair share of bottles thrown its way.
>’Chicken Coop’ as bands liked to call it.
“Well play a gig here, draw in some people and money, and get a place to sleep as a payment. Sound good?”
>Flare’s and Twilight’s heads whip towards you when they hear this.
>Looks like they weren’t expecting a performance.
>Strongheart, on the other hand, looks a bit troubled.
>She scratches the back of her neck.
>”Look, Anonymous, I’d love that, really, but… we already got an act for tonight. So the usual is out of the window. I’m afraid you’d have to pa-”
“An act? Who?”
>Strongheart points to the back of the bar, near the stage.
>Towards a young woman dressed in a rather stereotypical country-artist attire.
>”See that girl with the big stetson? Her.”
>You down the rest of your pint with one huge gulp and wipe your mouth.
“Wait here.”
 
>You make your way through the bar, past the patrons and the drunkards.
>You ignore Twilight’s voice calling you out and telling you to not do anything stupid.
>Of course you weren’t going to do anything stupid.
>You were just going to bully this fledgling Miranda Lambert wannabe to give you guys her spot for tonight.
>And thus, with confident steps you stride towards her, unwavering glare trained at the stetson-wearing girl.
>She notices your approach too late, and soon enough you got her cornered.
“So I heard you’re tonight’s main event?”
>“Um, y-yes? What of it?”
>Wow, that’s a bit of a posh voice for someone about to sing in a dive like Lucille.
“Let me make this clear. You’re in the way. We need that stage free today.”
>”Wait, what do you mean? I was booked by the owners of this place. Has there been a double-booking or-”
“No, I meant what I said. We need that stage for us, and your presence makes it impossible. So, if you want my advice, I’d say get the hell out of dodge.”
>You smile darkly.
“Otherwise it’s not going to be pretty when our leading trio gets here.”
>You weren’t even kidding. Aria would blow a gasket.
>”Oh, well… I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to get in your way. It’s just, this is a new chance for me to expand my repertoire and actually a bit of a surprise gig, so…”
>She keeps on talking, but you tune her voice out.
>Something is bothering you.
>Not only her voice, but that hair.
>Dark indigo with opal highlights? Where had you seen that before?
>You try to wrack your brains for an answer.
>M-maybe we could split the stage time, half and half? That way we can both be tonight’s main attraction.”
>Suddenly, it hits you.
>Like bolt ouf of the blue.
>With your index finger you reach out and flip the stetson upwards, revealing the girl’s face.
>You’re met with confusion, and sure enough, recognition.
“... Rara?”
>She smiles sheepishly.
>”Oh. Hey, Anon.”
 
>So, how had it come to this?
>Really, how the hell had it come to this?
>”I can't believe this...”
>Aria's leaning to the table, head in hands, staring blankly at her beer.
>”Neither can I, and *I* at least acknowledge the absurdity enough to look at it.”
>Adagio is biting her thumb, her eyes bouncing back and forth like they were watching a game of tennis.
>”Nonny knows the Countess, Nonny knows the Countess, Nonny knows the Countess...”
>Sonata rocks back and forth, hugging her knees and glassed look on her face.
>... The rest of your group isn't handling this revelation any better.
>Various degrees of shock, confusion and utter disbelief can be read from their faces, all directed at you and the girl sitting next to you.
>Coloratura, sensing the pure, unadulterated awkwardness hanging in the air lets out an embarrassed chuckle and scratches the back of her head.
>”Umm... Hi, everyone? It looks like most of you already know who I am.”
>Sour slams her fists against the table, making everyone jump a bit at the sudden hostility.
>”Like damn right we do! But how does Anon know *you*!?”
>All twenty one pairs of eyes are now focused on you, who feels mostly just no-clipping through the floor and receding in the darkness beyond space and time.
”Uh... we've met before?”
>Sour looks like she wants to smack the mullet off of you.
>To recap a bit, your surprise reunion with not one but two old faces from your past had not gone unnoticed.
>While you were still reeling from having come face to face with Coloratura, Flare and Twilight had met up with the rest of the gang, and introduced Strongheart to them.
>So when you and Rara headed towards the counter, you were suddenly met with a gang of suspicious teenagers thinking you were hitting on some random country singer.
 
>Unfortunately, the truth was that much worse.
>Every single one of them recognized Rara.
>Or as they knew her: Countess Coloratura.
>Just about the most prolific teenage electropop sensation of this decade.
>So here you are, sitting next to your old friend and up to your eyeballs in excuses.
>They all want to know how, why and when.
>Especially the surprisingly seething trio of Dazzlings.
>Well, with the exception of Sonata.
>It looks like her brain just fried its circuits like a Thai restaurant fries a shrimp the moment she laid her eyes upon Rara.
>Was it that weird?
>Or was Sonata an actual, true-blue fan?
>”Anemoneous.”
>You nearly choke on your beer as Twilight addresses you, her tone heavy.
>Wiping your mouth, you growl at her direction.
”Since when was I a sea creature with extremely dubious outwards appearance? You know full well my names is Anonymous! You've even been using it recently!”
>Her eyes narrow dangerously, and for some reason you feel cold sweat creeping down your back.
>”You’re the one who keeps calling me Doctor Strange, love.”
”When have I ever referred to you as Master of the Hermetic Arts who just happened to be a surgeon suffering a karmic punishment, huh!? If anyone, Starchild here's the real Doctor Strange!”
>She points her finger at you like administering some sort of punishment.
>”And thus, bear me far!”
”I'm gonna drop you if you start acting Scottish, you pseudoscientist!”
>”Here me, there bar?”
”As if you were in need of any more alcohol!”
>Twilight closes her eyes coldly and puts down her own bottle.
>Her next words are like spitting cold venom.
>”Well fine then, Anal Mousse.”
>Your elbow slips from the table and you end up face first against the wooden surface.
>Ah, it feels good.
>Much more so than that verbal slap against the face that Twilight just administered you.
 
>”Ah, I think she just shot down Hoss completely.”
>Gilda snickers into her beer, elbowing Suri that's sitting next to her.
>”Well of course, love. Twilight has always had the gift of gab, especially when it came to overly compensating males.”
>You jump up when you hear this.
”She just insulted me, plain and simple! Anal Mousse! The hell!? Who the hell is that!? There ain't a single person who'd stay standing after being called that! Is that all I am to you guys these days!? Anal Mousse!?”
>Your retort pours out of you mouth like beer pours into it.
>You're getting swept up by emotions, but right now you don't care.
>You're too embarrassed to care.
>You can actually feel the flame of your cheeks.
>It's only when you hear a quiet giggle next to you that you realize it's not just the usual group watching your antics.
>Like a rusted clock, your head turns towards Rara, who is doing her best to hide the fact that she's finding all this far too hilarious.
>Well at least she tries.
>Even though she fails miserably.
”Just forget what you saw, Rara. Please?”
>She wipes the corners of her eyes and turns to look at you, holding back the last remaining guffaws.
>”S-sorry, I didn't meant to laugh, Anon. It's just...”
>Her words taper off as she glances the gaggle of girls that has gathered around you.
>Strongheart had to put two tables together to make room for all of you.
”Just what?”
>Her smiling face turns back towards you, and you're a bit surprised to see their sincerity.
>”Just that it seems you have made lots of good friends since we last saw.”
>You fall silent and slowly sit back to your chair.
>Bringing your pint to your lips and taking a big swig, your brains rack what she just said, trying to process it.
>Lots of good friends?
>Okay, even you admit that these people were your friends.
>But good friends?
>Didn't Twilight just straight up insult your asshole?
>What's so good about that?
 
>”At least that’s how it seems to me. After all, you can say whatever you want and it’s all in good humor, isn’t it?”
>Huh. Maybe she has a point?
>You know that nobody really minces their words in your group.
>And you wouldn’t have it any other way.
>So why don’t you feel actually, properly insulted when Twilight calls you yet another stupid wordplay of a nickname?
>Just embarrassed?
“I… suppose it is.”
>You glance at everyone, before breaking into a smile and sitting back down.
“Well, whaddya know? I guess it means that I trust these guys here.”
>You find yourself unable to resist a chuckle, one that’s mirrored by many of the people around you.
>You even see Trixie giving you a small, discreet thumbs up.
>You wink at her and then turn your attention back to Coloratura.
>”Well, whatever our relationship with each other is, it’s not important.”
>Looking quite eager to dip her finger into a juicy pool of rumors, Suri leans forward, towards Rara.
>”What we *do* want to know is your relationship with Anonymous, love. How do you two know each other?”
>You and Coloratura exchange a meaningful glance, before you grimace a bit and scratch your head.
“If you really want to know, eh, we met at this camp thing years ago. We were the same age and we both liked music so we hit it right off.”
>Coloratura nods.
>”There was a talent contest at said camp, but because of our… hmh, musical differences, we ended up competing against each other. It was me with a friend of mine versus Anonymous and his guitar at the finals.”
>You see that everyone is now leaning closer in.
>Looks like they want to hear about a scintillating tale of two musical prodigies duking it out in a blaze of glory.
>Unfortunately…
“And, uhm, I kinda lost. Miserably.”
>There’s a collective gasp and Rara pats your shoulder with an apologetic smile.
 
>”No need to be so humble, Anonymous. It was a close call, and since your choice of song wasn’t the most… hum, proper, we ended up winning. Simple as that.”
>”No way! Nonny *lost* at music!?”
>Sonata seems most surprised out of the lot.
>What sort of Rock ‘n Roll god does she think you are?
>”Wait, Roadie? What song did you play?”
>Under Aria’s scrutinizing gaze, you find it suddenly hard to meet her eyes.
“... Tush. By ZZ Top.”
>Aria, Limestone, Gilda and Strongheart break out in a hysterical laughter, while rest of the girls eye you disapprovingly.
>Especially Sour Sweet’s glare is downright evil.
>Actually, scratch that.
>Not all of them are disapproving.
>Looks like Indio Zap is just too innocent to have heard the song. That or it’s just her natural idiocy pushing through.
>All you can offer them is a half-hearted shrug and a mischievous smile.
>After all, you were young.
>You thought you should appear cool, instead of trying to ‘be’ cool.
>It’d take many more years before you’d realize your mistake.
>And even now, you weren’t sure you ever achieved your goal.
>... At least Sonata seems to think you’re cool.
>”So, that’s it? You were friends and rivals at a music camp?”
>Adagio cocks an eyebrow at the pop icon.
>”Oh, we did keep contact afterwards. We only recently stopped talking, after I made my breakthrough and Anonymous had to spend time behind the bars.”
>That seems to satisfy the lot of them, though some people like Starlight and Adagio still look somewhat doubtful.
>You give your old friend a quick, grateful glance.
>At least she was discreet and didn’t spill all the beans.
>There were things the girls did not need to know about your past.
>Like the fact you lost your virginity to Rara.
>And she lost hers to you.
>And that you kept it going for quite a while afterwards.