Dexter's Dark Tales

T W O

We arrived at the southern end of town, where the density of buildings began to thin. Where there were buildings, however, they were rather close together, creating many alleyways and dark places. Apparently someone else had thought it looked very inviting, and had left a little present: the mangled corpse of a grey unicorn. She lay against the right wall of the alleyway, covered in that familiar substance of red, though it had dried to a brownish colour now. It was a mess, truly. Shame; not what I thought I’d start with here. Ah well, blood is blood I suppose.

Pulling rubber gloves onto my hooves, I decided to show these village ponies how we do it in Manehatten. I stepped under the police tape and walked over to the most appealing and most red area. The other officers had their first impressions of it, and now was time for us lab geeks to work our magic. Not literally, for me anyway. I inspected the body first. The younger looking pony near the corpse took a few photographs before allowing me to move it. I got a closer look at the blood markings, injuries and spatter, drinking in all the clues that the perpetrator had left me. They were many.

If anybody but me knew about me I’m sure they would say, “Dexter, how ironic it must be for you of all people to work with blood on a daily basis.” Well, I know of irony, yes, and I must agree. Blood is the catalyst of it all; sometimes setting my teeth on edge, and other times quelling the growing unrelenting black urge. Yet I chose to work with it daily. I am surrounded by it all day, at night causing it to be spilled myself. Of course, this job helps me a great deal. My night work would be tremendously more difficult without my day job. Connections to the police and fresh, not to mention secret, news of homicides are very helpful when one is planning one of their own. A serial killer working in a homicide department. Delicious irony.

"Eugh. What a mess, eh?"

I turned my head around to see who had spoken. I came face to face with a somewhat thin looking younger pony. He had a curly brown mane to go with his white body and wore a camera around his neck. He looked like he was fresh out of college and ready to delve into blood unprepared. Almost reminded me of me.

I turned back around to the body. "Yup. What a way to go." I turned on the sympathy to make seem like I actually felt something. Something other than that little tingle of laughter of my Passenger...

"Oh, I'm Tom, by the way. Nice to meet you." He flashed me a toothy grin.

Apparently we were still conversing. "Dexter," I said, glancing slightly in his direction and nodding. I looked back down to the body and my attention was stolen away when I noticed some markings on the neck.

He laughed a bit. At what though, I could not possibly conceive. "Cool. So you're the new blood guy, right?"

"Well, new to town at least." I said. I did not give him the courteously of looking up at him as I spoke this time.

Tom chuckled again. My dislike for him rose as he did so. I don’t feel true emotions like hate or anger or rage, but there are those ponies I definitely prefer not to be around. Tom was climbing up the list very fast.

“Heh, right. You've probably been doing this for, like, ever.” He continued to watch over me, walking around to the other side of the body so that he was now facing me. He leaned in close. “So, Dexter, what do your wise old eyes see?”

What did I see? That was a deep question, one I did not think he truly knew the meaning behind. A blur of images flashed through my mind. All of the horrific bloodshed and grotesque killings I had ever seen, in Manehatten, some of which were of my own work. They were glorious... But I suppressed these images. That was the past. This blood here, this was now. I kept a straight face and went to work.

“Wounds around the side of the front right shoulder. A large weapon was used, most likely a machete. Gashes about two inches across, one quarter inch deep, enough to cause blood loss.” The words of my analysis flowed like blood from an open wound. I was on autopilot, sitting back and letting my very technical and logical mind do all the work. One of the advantages of not having emotions, is it helps to free up space for more important things, like so.

“The trail of blood on the ground indicates she ran long here, then the next slash made her fall here. See the spatter?” I pointed to the opposite side of the alleyway, where a very large and rather artistic looking blood spray had painted the wall.

“Failed to get back up, most likely because of blood loss.” I walked along as I spoke; I could feel Tom’ eyes following me. “They limped for a bit here, but the assailant was too quick and finished them off here.” I thrust my hoof downward like I was actually holding the knife. I looked down at my hoof, envisioning what work I would soon be able to do.

I turned back around. “That’s what I see.” I said quietly.

Tom continued to stare, his smile growing. He looked like a foal at Hearth’s Warming morning, his eyes sparkling. I began to wonder about him. Then I realized what a waste of precious time that was. I left him smiling over top of the corpse like the idiot he was. I had as much as I could gather from the blood. Any schoolboy could easily see how this once lively creature came to be but a husk of pony meat. I took some blood samples, leaving the coroners to do their job. I would write up the report later, but for now, my work was done. Time to head back.

“No! I need to see her!”

Crime scenes always draw a crowd. The sight of a dead body is apparently a spectacle. I know I find it interesting. Probably the only connection between me and normal ponies. Of course with such a crime rate as Manehatten does, the crowds would often be only of family, friends and those with nothing better to do. There were a considerable number of ponies here, but they were all rather calm. Looking up at the crowd, I noticed one pony stood out from the rest: the screaming mare flailing about between the restraints of two police officers.

I stared at this blubbering crying pony. This unruly mare fought fiercely against the officers standing by the tape. But what struck me as odd, was that her look completely contradicted her actions, Her pristine white coat and expertly quaffed mane were both completely offset by her running mascara and devilish screams. It was interesting, actually, to see such raw emotions take over this most likely proper and calm mare like something out of a horror movie. Another benefit of not having any emotions to burden me. Still, it intrigued me how differently a pony can act despite how they look, despite what everybody thinks of them. Reminds me of a certain serial killer.

I almost felt like smirking. But I held it in as my slung my saddle bag on my back. The cries of Ms. quaffed mane echoed down the alleyway. If she wanted to be the center of attention, she was certainly doing a fine job. I ignored the pleas of the poor mare and headed towards the end of the alley.

“Please! Let me through!” she screamed. “I know her! I need to see!”

I was about to pass by her when she turned and looked at me. She stared at me dead in the eyes. I stared back just the same. Immediately after that she thrust her front hooves up then backwards, hitting the two officers hard. They stumbled forward, just enough for her to get through. I did nothing but watch as she galloped as fast as she could down the alley, bee lining to the corpse. The corpse Tom was still over. He looked up and instantly took action. With a quick flash, the mare was surrounded with a blue glow. Tom’s forehead glowed the same pale blue. For the first time I saw his horn, hidden within his mess of curly brown hair.

Tears streamed down the white mare’s cheeks. She struggled and screamed, but to no avail; Tom had her firmly. I continued to do nothing but look on, watching her squirm and cry. My eyes darted between her and the blood just beyond. The red darkness and the scream of helplessness. The Dark Passenger laughed. Soon, it assured me, soon.

The officers came back over and retrieved Tom’s catch of the day. They thanked him and took her away. All the while, she was sniffling and crying. I continued to look on, mesmerized. Tom turned his head in my direction. He raised his eyebrows gave me a smile. I hesitantly replicated the gesture, wondering if smiling after inspecting a body corpse and taking a crying pony who wanted to get close to said corpse away was really appropriate. I personally had no trouble with it at all, but my training had taught me this was not the social norm. Either Tom had no idea how to properly interact socially, or he was just as dark as me.

Had this been any other time, I might have become interested in finding out more about Tom. Although Fluttershy had brought up zero, perhaps Tom would be different. Would he be my first playmate? Perhaps not. When I looked into Fluttershy, I had time to kill. Now I'm busy with other things to kill. The Need calls. Tom would have to wait.

Downtown Ponyville is quiet at night; at least, a lot quieter than Manehatten. The empty streets remind one of but a shadow of the former lively village. I can see why Luna would get lonely. Loneliness is the closest emotion I think I can feel. I can imagine it at least.

I looked upon the cold streets from the window of the relatively warm café. The dead silence of the night was broken only by the light radio in the far corner and the quiet talk of the employees. White noise always does help me think. I quietly ate the biscuits in front of me, appearing happy and innocent. Glancing to my left out the window allowed me full view of the intersection and the rows of houses beyond. At the end of them lived a mare named Sky Burster, the unknowing next addition to my ever growing blood slide collection.

Sky Burtser lived in a small thatched roofed house near the edge of town. A cal-de-sac of similar looking houses surrounded it, making it fit in nicely; blending into the darkness. But I saw my target clear as day. I watched, waiting the moment when I would see her leave, allowing my dark descent of investigation. Yes. Investigation. Observation. My key to success.

Just because Ponyville has no real database yet, that does not mean there are no old records to dig up. Cold cases on dusty old shelves that nobody cares if you take. One such case caught my eye and it would not let it go. Well, it was actually a number of cases; all considered to be connected. A number of months ago, many wealthy citizens of Ponyville mysteriously died in their homes. Nobody was brought in and it was simply brushed away as unfortunate accidents. Accidents.

There had to have been something else, of course. Something they missed. And here was Deter to clean up after the sloppy police force. Who says I don’t help? As I searched, I found there was one connection; one that was not easy to find, even for someone like me. Each one had employed the same pegasus house maid: Sky Burster.

Nobody really gave much thought about the maid being a serious suspect. It's as cliché as the butler being guilty. And really, how often was a butler actually guilty? About as often as I am innocent. Well, if Sky Burster really was guilty, there would have to be evidence. There always is. Getting the actual evidence from the cases would prove too be a bit trickier than the files, as I needed a 'damn good reason' if I wanted them. Not that that stopped me.

I stopped looking at the houses and went back to my plate of biscuits. I had three left. Then I had two. I looked out again and saw the same thing: nothing. No motion at all. I glanced up to check the clock. Soon, I reminded it. Yet the Dark Passenger grew restless. The last kill in Manehatten seemed so far away and so long ago… I looked once again at the house. Just looking at it, the hunger grew. As time would go on, soon the howling ravenous beast would be free on his own accord. That would not do. It has to stay calm and collected. Do not become Ms. quaffed mane. The consequences would be far more devastating to me, and those around me.

But a new feeling filled the backseat; one I could guess was supposed to be not unlike excitement, as something finally happened. The door to Ms. Burster’s house swung open. It was dark, but I could still see well enough to catch the bright yellow mane of Sky Burster as she stepped out. She turned and locked the door behind herself. She started on her way down the street, heading directly towards the cafe. I kept watch out of the corner of my eye, keeping my head down. I saw her much more clearly under the street lights. No mistaking that dust cloud cutie mark against her bright green coat. Once she reached the intersection between her and myself, she turned right and continued on her way. I sat for a few moments, staring at my zero biscuits left. I stood from my seat, left a generous tip and was out on the street myself. I sighed, looking left then right, and then trotted down the street in the exact opposite direction Sky Burster had taken.

Five minutes later, I was standing just outside the back door to the house. I had taken the long way around to ensure that nobody had seen me, and anybody that did would not think suspicious of me. Subtlety, thy name is Dexter.

My lock picking tools made quick work of the fragile lock of the back door. It reminded me of how easy I could take care of Ms Burster. It gave the Dark Passenger a tingle of excitement. I entered quickly and silently. I had adjusted to the darkness well, so I did not stumble as I made my way through the kitchen. It was a simple kitchen: a table in the center and two doors, one on the left side of the wall across from me and one right next to it on the left wall.

I was sure that Sky Burster would not be home. Earlier today, shortly after I first began to investigate Ms Burster, I paid a visit to her place of employment to see if I could find anything useful. While I am not fond of gossip, nor to I see the practical value of it, this time it found some use. This gossip was about Ms. Burster going out to a party on tonight. Talk about luck. This evening she was going to be on the other side of town. Perfect for a little investigating. All I had to do was find evidence that the 'accidents' had not been accidents at all. Then I would be free to my own accord, and the Dark Passenger’s belly would be full.

But I found I would not get to do much at all. Just a few moments after I crept through the kitchen, I heard it. The dreadful warning sound that no trespasser wants to hear: the sound of someone at home. I pressed myself against the left wall. No light was on. How could someone be home? She left long ago. I made sure by watching. I saw her. I was sure.

There would be time to berate myself later. Maybe after I had Sky Burster on my table covered in plastic wrap. For now I had to find out what that sound was. I wouldn't get another chance to look for proof a long time. I couldn't wait until then. My passenger couldn't wait. If Sky Burster really was home, I would have to leave immediately. But who else could it be?

I slowly slid along to the left of the doorway. I crept as quietly as was possible. Just then, a light flicked on. If I peeked around the corner now, I would be seen for sure. Creeping away from the wall, I backed into the darkness of the kitchen. I tried to angle myself to see into the next room without being seen. I could see very little, but what I did see was enough to stop me breathing for a second: there was Sky Burster herself, lying flat out on the couch.