=Am I Evil 11=

>You walk in through the back, you didn’t like attracting attention when you did this.
>From the sound of things, the band was already playing. That was good, better to catch them in the middle of something when they’re natural, less preprepared.
>You didn’t need a band who could only sound good in post.
>The band had fliers all throughout the back rooms. The Neon Knights, you’d heard good things. You’d see how well they could handle themselves.
>You sit down at a booth near the back in the middle of the club and signal a waitress over.
>”Your usual, Mr Rich?”
“Please, sweetheart.”
>The girl heads off and you make yourself comfortable. 
>The band finishes up their current song and the frontwoman, pretty thing for a Changeling Queen, comes forward and addresses the crowd directly.
>You focus intently on her, watching how she roused sections of the crowd to a fervent pitch, preparing them for the next song in their set.

>How a frontman handled a crowd was almost as important as the sound of the band to begin with. A decent frontman could cover up a drunk bassist or a fritzing amp, and it was what was required to take a band to the levels of the greats.
>The waitress returns and sets your drink down. “Please let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you, Mr. Rich.”
“Thank you, darlin’.” You say as you sip your drink.
>The girl walks off, but you’re not alone.
>”My my, what are the odds?” a familiar posh voice says.
>You don’t even have to look, a good thing because your eyes are transfixed on the stage.
“Fancy! What on earth are you doing here?”
>Fancypants and his ridiculous mustache come around into your field of vision, dressed as sharply as he always was and still sporting his ridiculous mustache. He takes a seat and the two of you shake hands.
>”Oh, this club is a recent purchase of mine. I’ve come to ensure the place is up to snuff. And you?”
>You tilt your glass towards the stage.
“You’re listening to them.”
>Fancy chuckles and rests his head in his hand, whistfully looking at the Neon Knights as they begin to play.

Music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Md9Y_kq5lqU
>Fancy sighs and leans back in the booth as the guitarist starts his opening riff.
>”Saints alive…how long has it been since the old days, hmm?”
“Twenty-two years.” You say.
>Fancy shakes his head. “When did we turn into a pair of old men?”
“Some time after your divorce.”
>Fancy chuckles. “That’s how they say it starts.”
>Fancy leans back and takes in the sight and sound of the Knights with you, seeming especially impressed by the illusions they cast over the crowd.
>”If only we’d thought of that, huh?” he asks.
“Blues don’t exactly lend themselves to theatrics like this, Fancy.”
>”I wonder if I could still pull that off.”
“When was the last time you even –picked up- a guitar?” you ask.
>Fancy is quiet for a small time. “…I’m almost CERTAIN that Tiara was born.”
>You roll your eyes and drink your drink. Fancy turns back towards the band.
>”You think they have it?”
“I think they stole the show at Canterlot, made a splash in Stableside-“
>”Sweet Celestia, Stableside? How did they pull an audience? Zebrican music is huge there.” Fancy interrupts.
“They teamed up with a Zebrican band –at the club- and wrote a –new- song right before their set.”
>Fancy looks to the stage in awe. “They certainly have something…”
“They brought the house down at the New Years party in Ponyville this year, came on my radar.”
>Fancy nods. “I heard about that, I was in Germaneigh at the time and I heard about that.”
>You finish your drink.
“They have something…a sound, a passion, the illusions. This is what we were trying to find back in the day, Fancy. This is the game changer. And I want to be on the ground floor of it.”
>Fancy pushes himself up and begins to walk away. “Best of luck then, Filthy. Tirek keep you strong.”
“Right back at you, Fancy…”

=Anon PoV=
Music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LatB5O3YTNo
>The after show was almost always just as fun as the regular show these days.
>The five of you had finished your set and collected your pay and decided that the best way to spend it was to crawl down to the nearest pub and grab a stool.
>You and Sombra sat laughing at the counter while Artemis took on some of the locals in billiards. Eris had a fake mustache on and was helping the bartender pour another beer and finally Chrysalis was off in the corner either trying to get another lead on a new gig from a patron or propositioning him, you couldn’t tell.
>Possibly both.
>Probably both.
>But that didn’t matter right now.
>you pat Sombra on his shoulder.
“HELL of a job on the skins tonight, big guy.”
>Sombra has a heart chuckle and raises his mug to his mouth. “It was pretty wild. I’m still waiting on you lot to let me –really- cut loose.”
>Chrysalis piques in from the corner. “From what I’ve seen you, cutting loose would split the continent in half. We’re keeping you dialed back for all our sakes.” She says.
>Sombra rolls his eyes.
>”She’s right though.” Eris comes up dressed as an old timey bartender, pinstripe shirt and everything, while washing a glass. “The building didn’t always used to shake when we played.”
>You and Sombra look at each other and then back to her.
“Well yeah. Bigger venues mean more people and bigger sound equipment, it’s natural.”
>”It’s physics, Eri.”
>Eris shakes her head. “I know stuff. I know when there’s magic in the air or not.”
>You cock an eyebrow.
“Yeah but from where? Chrys is the only one casting any spells.”
>”It’s from your music.” A voice with a bit of a drawl says as the jukebox stops.

>All eyes turn towards the man in the navy blue overcoat and pompadour haircut standing by the jukebox.
>His hungry, yellow eyes drift over the five of you.
>”The Neon Knights…got a minute?”
>Now you all look to Chrysalis who sighs quietly. “You get one to get my interest.” She leaves her prey for the evening, signaling the rest of you come closer.
>The man strikes the jukebox and starts a slower, more ethereal tune as he takes his seat.
>”Who are you?” Sombra asks.
>”Yeah, and what’d you mean about our music?” Artemis finishes.
>The man reaches into his coat and produces a card. “Filthy Rich. Resident entrepreneur, businessman, daddy…and at one time, bass player and song writer for a blues band.”
>The five of you look at each other.
“…Well we never heard of you.”
>Filthy Rich frowns annoyed at you. “Yes, you wouldn’t have.” He signals you closer
>You all lean closer because you’re stooges and tipsy.
>”What if I told you…your music effected the world in more ways than people listening to it? Guitar chords that could make lightning crack, baselines that could ripple space, drum solos that could shake the ground?”
“Probably ask what you smoked.”
>Filthy looks at you again, Eris and Artemis chuckle.

>”I mean it, boy.” Filthy is silently somber for a few moments. “The world…it wasn’t ready for what my band brought to it. Our energy, our passion, it was misplaced and we faltered. After that, we vanished.”
>Chrysalis sits on a stool. “And? Assuming we even believe you for a second about this magic thing, what do you want with us?”
>Filthy leans back in his stool and crosses his arms. “I believe your band can move the world. I think you’ve got the sound of a generation under your hood, and I want to be a part of it.”
“Say what?”
>Filthy straightens. “As of two hours ago, Rich Record Labels officially exists and by the end of the week, we’ll have our first fully furnished recording studio. I want your band to not only be the first ones in it, I want you to make the first record we put out.”
>Chrysalis drops her mug of beer.
>Eris’s mouth drops all the way to the floor. Literally.
>Artemis blinks several times.
>Sombra smiles, not believing what he’s hearting.
>You raise your hand and order another glass, you think you need it.