Dexter's Dark Tales

by IHasApple

Rating: mature
Tags: Main 6, Gore, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Other, Slice of Life, Crossover, Dark
Length: 19835

Dexter and his killer adventures in Ponyville

Arriving from Manehatten, everypony's favourite serial killer must adjust to his new life in Ponyville. But in such a pleasant and quiet place, how can Dexter find victims that fit The Code?

(Formally known as Darkly Dreaming Pinkie Pie)

Note: Chapter one takes place at the very end of the story.

Published 2012-02-22 05:24:01 UTC
Last updated 2013-03-03 04:10:37 UTC

Darkly Dreaming Pinkie Pie

Secrets. Everyone has them. Everyone has secrets. Big ones, little ones. Secrets about themselves, about others. Secrets about their past. That skeleton in the closet. That spot in their history that they wish they could forget. They wish could just go away. People have things they don’t want anyone else to know. Some things that make them... seem bad. Me? Nobody knows me, really. The things I’ve seen. The things I’ve done.

Who am I? You'll know in time. I've learned it's better to ease into these kinds of things. To slow down and savor the feeling of things being revealed in order. Slowly. It's not who I am that's important. It's about what someone else did and what I did about it, and what I became.

I live in a charming little community called Ponyville. It's... quaint, to say the least. It's not the bustling streets of Canterlot or the bright shining lights of Manehattan, but the people here are... friendly. Everyone knows everyone else. It’s a small town, but far from boring. Some days, there will be a crazy adventure or two going down in this place. I don't like to partake in these things so much as others do. They seem to be able to handle it pretty well on their own. They don't need me there.

No, I'm always needed elsewhere, out of the spotlight, away from the public. Out in the forest is usually a good place. Lots of animals there. Not that anyone appreciates me for what I do. Or what I keep myself from doing. Most people don't even know what I do. They just see me and nod slightly as they pass on by, the usual greeting for me. They don’t know me. Most people don't see me out in town often, mainly because I don't like people. It… stimulates urges of mine. Urges I must keep under control. If I were to run rampant, doing whatever I felt like I needed to, well… That would be bad for a lot of people.

I don't talk much, mainly because there ain't anything worth saying. I think I let my actions speak for themselves. If a picture is worth a thousand words, how many is a strong action worth? I sometimes think that they think the reason they don't see me a lot is because I have a lot of work to be doing or something. I don't know why they would think that. I guess it’s true that I do have work that must be finished and I am a busy person, but I take time off to do things I enjoy. Some… recreation, some hobbies. I like animals. At least, I pretend to.

Pretend. There’s something I do a lot. I do it every waking moment. Pretending. Pretending to care. Pretending to feel, pretending that I am normal. It’s all I’ve got. To not feel empty, to not feel so bottomless, to not feel alone. Even though I was.

Until I met her.

Once, a long time ago, I knew this one girl, Pinkamena Diane Pie. Pinkie Pie, as most people called her. She didn't like her real name all that much, even though it was her last tie back to her past. Her real past. Sometimes, when people asked about her past, she liked to make up stories about hardships and rock farms, about sonic rainbooms and parties in silos. That's bullshit.

I knew the real truth behind Pinkie.

Pinkie was the kind of pony that everypony knew. She was friendly to everybody, and knew them all by name. Anyone that lived in Ponyville and just beyond, she knew them all. Including me. Ever since we first met, we knew there was something underneath each other. It didn't take her long to figure me out. Nor for me to figure out her. I knew her. What she really was inside, beyond her charade. That’s not to say she was bad at hiding it, oh no. Except for me, she probably had the whole town fooled. But I was just that good.

From the day we met, we had this... unspoken code. I didn't tell anyone about what she was, she didn't blab to anyone about what I was. It was perfect. We'd silently agree that what we were was... weird, as some might say, but necessary. We were the same. We understood each other. Maybe that's why she always hung out with me. I know it's a hard and lonely road, sometimes it's nice to be able to know someone else is suffering the same as you.

But, that's where the similarities ended. I appeared silent and strong, she was humourous and fun. I was reserved and calm, she was always so outgoing and happy, so full of energy. Quite the expert in facade, if I do say so myself. I know how to keep my appearances up at all times, to act like I care, even when I really don't.

We had each other's backs. We kept each other safe. Safe from prying eyes. Safe from others. Safe from each other. The parties she threw, I didn't understand them. I still don't. I don't understand the reason for celebrating things, let alone all the things she celebrated. Maybe it was just to keep up appearances. Maybe she really just was that crazy.

So yeah, Pinkie and I? We were friends on some level or another. More than just the regular friendships she kept up with everypony, we understood each other. We were the same. It was in our blood. It wasn’t our fault. Something in our past made us this way. Something we didn’t remember about. Something that we couldn’t control.

Pinkie Pie may have known me, but she didn't know all of me. As close as I as to Pinkie, he didn’t know all of me. No one knew. She thought of me like her. Just pure uncontrolled urges, like hers. No, I was different. I was secretive. I kept it all inside, and released it pleasurably when the time came. Sometimes the urge becomes unbearable, the building pressure inside. Sometimes in need release. In those times I would make a “spontaneous” visit to friends. They always helped.

So anyway, Pinkie and I were close. I thought I knew Pinkie. But, just like she didn’t know all of me, I clearly didn’t know all of her. I thought she was bad.

She was worse.

It was a sunny day. The clouds where gone, the birds sang and the rainbows glistened. It was a miserable day. That day I was out in town to mingle with ponies, so I didn't seem shunned away all the time. It's good to get out and clear your head, they say. I guess for some people a walk could do that.

When I went by Sugar Cube Corner, the local bakery and the home of friend Pinkie Pie, I noticed the pegasus, Rainbow Dash, enter.

Rainbow Dash was the only other one than Pinkie that I didn't feel disgusted about. Her arrogance, her pride, her eagerness to win. All a cover up for the real Rainbow: a scared, broken and lonely girl with an inferiority complex.
She was broken, like me. Trying to cover it up, live a normal life and move on.

I don't know what actually happened to her, but I felt a small connection. Perhaps, if I had tried, we could have made something work out.

But it's too late, now. Too bad.

Anyway, Rainbow entered Pinkie's place. I decided to check out what was going on. I don't know why I was so curious. Maybe I wanted to know how social interaction with someone like me looked like from the outside. What signals we gave off. How our masks looked compared to others.

Or maybe I just wanted to see Rainbow Dash.

I observed from the window. Pinkie gave a cupcake to Rainbow in a friendly act of kindness and friendship. How thoughtful of her. I expected Rainbow Dash to accept it, eat it, pay, and then go away. When she ate it, however, I saw Dash appear to be woozy. She mumbled something as she fell asleep.

I knew what would come next. I probably should have stopped her, but I was too curious to see her technique. See how others like me did it in action. Now, not stopping her is the only action I’ve ever regretted.

Now, I understand. I can't believe how blind I was. I used to think Pinkie had a system she worked from, like me. Of course she had no system. No bullshit 'numbers', it was all at random!

I followed as she hoisted Dash down into the basement. As much as I wanted to stop her, I was curious to see what was happening. I couldn't do anything, so I hid in the corner, under some boards. Luckily, I was able to slip under them before she came back.

She tied Dash down onto a table and spread her legs and arms and locked them into the table. I couldn't see much at the time, it being too dark, but I smelled terrible. I sensed a dark presence, like bad things happened here.

Soon, Dash awoke. And the 'fun' began.

It was absolutely amazing. Throughout the entire time, Pinkie kept up her charade of 'wacky fun party pony'. It was an eye opener. For a few people. I thought that Pinkie was like me: hurt, broken, damaged. I thought she was masking her true self under a coat of randomness, parties and friendship. Now I see Pinkie's true face. And the nut is the same as the shell. She loved it every moment of it. In fact, she enjoyed it almost too much. She almost reminds me of me. When I let loose, all bets are off. I let go and let my true form reveal itself. I am different than what most people think, but I hide who I am to protect the innocent.

Pinkie? She's the same pony in both ways. She purely enjoys it as much as I do, but harder, purer and more malevolent. She enjoys doing it for the sake of doing it. She embraces it. The only reason she hides to true self is to play a waiting game with everyone. See how long each player lasts before they lose their life.

No. No, I was wrong. We're not the same. She may be damaged, be she's also bad. Bad to the core. I thought she was better than this. No, she's not in the same boat as me. She's the trash that must be taken out. She's the spot that must be cleansed. She's the weed that must be rooted.

The only thing I don't understand is how she's been getting away with it all. She leaves blood everywhere. She leaves the bodies hung upon the walls. So many people go missing, and no one suspects thing. How does no one notice this?
No, she must prepare it for her victims. Hangs the decorations up for the festivities and packs them sway when the holiday's over. Just like Christmas.

All in all though, she was pretty good at it, I'll give her that. Her style was incredible. Such passion and initiative. Sloppy workmanship, though. She obviously hadn't been trying to develop a mark. She was experimenting. Trying to see what else she could do and have fun with it. She was just doing what she felt like. Not thinking about the consequences to her actions. She just cared about the fun of it.

Well, now. The fun stops.

By the end, Rainbow Dash was gone, ingredients for a cupcake in her place. If I had a heart, it would be breaking. When you kill someone, you're not just taking a life; you're snuffing out everything that they could have become. All the future things they could have done will never happen. Rainbow Dash wasn't bad. She could have done great things. Amazing things. Now they’re all gone. Pinkie didn't see this. What she saw was only more cupcakes.

It happened tonight. And it's going to keep happening. Again and again and again.

Unless I stop her.

Preparation. That's the key to doing it right. Must be prepared and plan for all variables. With Pinkie, it's like an impossible equation, but I'm the master mathematician.

I prepare a place for us. Somewhere we can be alone. Somewhere she can't escape from...

What about her own basement?

It's perfect. The irony alone is fantastic. It'd also be a great place for it: the walls are sound-proof, and no one but she goes in there. I would have plenty of time to prepare my little project.

The next day I prepare. I request Pinkie on errands that will leave her out for the day. She'll be back soon, though. That's okay, I'm gonna be quick, anyways.

She returns in a couple hours. Perfect. I've just finished. She finds the note I've left for her: "Meet me in the basement."
It should be a clue that I'm onto her, and that I've got a surprise. Pinkie loved surprises.

When she came into the room, the first thing she noticed was the room: covered in plastic from ceiling to floor, a cart of sharp instruments and tools next to a plastic covered table. On that special table, I've left a present: a cupcake.

From behind I get her with a tranquilizer needle, potent enough to take down Big Macintosh, the big farmer earth pony. She hits the ground like a sack of hammers.

Soon, the real fun begins.

As Pinkie awoke, she found herself in a position familiar to what Rainbow must have felt like. Trapped and tied in a dark room, not knowing what was going on. She found herself unable to scream for help. Duct tape often has that effect.

I turn around, noticing her fully alerted state of consciousness. Her eyes grow wide when she realizes who it is that has trapped her: me.

"Ghkmh?!" she tried to say my name, unable to speak clearly.

I silenced her with a hoof to my mouth, shushing her. We sat in silence for a while, as I contemplated what to say.
"You were the only one I saw as my equal." I spoke in a solemn voice, "I thought you were like me."

I picked up a sharp knife, admiring it as I continued to talk, "That you had trouble blending into normal society because of these... urges."

I began to walk over to her. "I thought you kept these urges hidden away during the day, finding relief here, at night, like I do." I brought the knife close to her cheek. She began to increase her breathing rate. Can dish it out, but she can't take it. “You had to do it. You couldn’t help yourself. You needed to do this..”

"But sadly, I was mistaken. You don’t need to do it. You do it for fun. Because you want to. You say you don't make the rules. That their 'numbers' just come up. Well, sadly, I don't get to make the rules, either."

I slowly created a light gash into Pinkie's cheek. She winced in pain as blood began to seep from the open wound. I breathed slowly, savoring the first cut. Always so good…

She looked up at me with her big blue puppy dog eyes. They reminded me of how Applejack's dog, Rusty, looked before I killed it. It had to be done, it was yappy and annoying and just overall not too good at farm work. It took some time, but the Apples eventually got over their dog's disappearance, and got a new dog, Winona. She's much better.

If I actually had half the emotions I pretend to have, their tactics might have worked.

"Pinkamena Diane Pie." I said holding the knife high above my head, "Your number's just come up!"

After Pinkie went missing, people began to notice. After just a day if not seeing their favorite pink party pony was enough to make people suspicious. The police eventually investigated her house, checking the basement. Boy, did they have a heyday in that place. At least 40 missing ponies' bodies had been found, murdered in that basement. It was the biggest body count they had found. So far. Pinkie Pie was branded as the 'Cupcake Killer', Equestria's #1 fugitive, and a nation-wide ponyhunt was ordered.

I heard some people talk about what a tragedy it all was How could someone as lovable as Pinkie Pie do something as horrible as this? How could anyone? How, indeed.

It didn't take long for them to find out that Pinkie Pie had committed suicide by leaping off of the tallest tower in Canterlot. Princess Luna must had a hell of a time, taking a leisurely walk only to find that the lower walls of the palace were now a lovely red colour. Poor girl will have nightmares for weeks, but she'll heal. The Cupcake Killer case was closed, and a massive funeral service was held for those who were killed.

In the back row of the funeral service, held for Equestria's #2 serial killer, sat Equestria's #1 serial killer, dressed in a small black tux. A mournful expression adorned his face, but if he was allowed to do things his way, a dark smile he would wear proudly. I think I should have brought sunglasses; tears are always so hard to fake.

…End

Deeply Disguised Fluttershy

It didn’t take long for me to figure out I wasn’t the only one like this, growing up. There were others, my dad would tell me. Others like me. Others that had similar particular interests. Others that were as damaged as me. It was important that I learn how to tell them apart from normal people. Important, so that I can learn to protect both myself and ‘loved’ ones.

Now, just because we’re similar, doesn’t mean we’re friends. I tried it once. It didn’t turn out well.

In fact, some would say I protect others from people like me. I find the others like me. I find… bad people. I’ve learned to spot these people. To learn what they do. To be sure, and not make a mistake of taking an innocent’s life. That would be… against the code. Against what my father would want. My gut usually tells me if they’re bad or not, but I always must find proof to back up my gut… even though I’m usually, right. Usually.

Because, deep down, we’re monsters.

A timberwolf in pony clothing. Blending ourselves into society, waiting to strike. Waiting for the most opportune moment. Snatching up our victims to enjoy a feast that will satisfy our cravings for a while. Until our next lust for blood rises. Then we find our next victim, and strike. A never-ending cycle.

When it first began, I didn’t know what was happening. I was so young. It started with the neighbour’s dog. Always so yappy, so annoying. I couldn’t take it anymore. By the time I realized what I had done, I had killed both the dog and the kid. Their blood was on my hooves. That was the only time I have harmed a child. I’ll admit, it felt… better. It didn’t give me any feeling of happiness or a sense of triumph, but it felt as though what I had done was… right in some way.

Now, remember, it was first time. Still wet behind the ears. I didn’t know how to dispose properly. Inevitably, my dad found out. I felt ashamed, not that I had killed somebody, but that I was so sloppy about it. My dad… he understood, though. He knew I was a psychopath, but he also knew I had potential. He though that I could channel this urge to kill into a positive direction. To keep me safe, and keep me out of prison. Or worse.

Nowadays, I make sure to keep it clean. Leave no clues, no calling card, no obvious MO. I dispose of the bodies properly, except for special occasions. I like to make sure they’re guilty before I get to work preparing. There’s nothing worse than setting everything up perfect, then having to take it all down without any proof of accomplishment. Except taking it down with proof of innocence’s blood. I would never want that…

I remember when I first came to Ponyville. I came by train from Manehattan. I remember that feeling of transitioning from the wild and lively city to the sleepy little town in the country. Well, maybe not less lively, but a lot less active night life. Especially with me around.

When I first arrived at the station, the first person I met was Pinkie Pie. She knew someone new was coming to town. I don’t know how she did, but she just… knew. I had to be careful around her. Eventually I eased up when I learned what she really was. Anyway, she threw these parties for everyone that she meets. She gathers up everyone she can, and throws his huge surprise party for them. In their new home. What a pleasant house warming gift. Dozens of strangers invading your new home, invading your space, drinking, eating, dancing. There were even balloons. Who wouldn’t want that?

I put up with the drinks, the food, even the dancing. I could cover up my displeasure with simple smiles and a few steps of lame dancing here and there. But the worst part, the part I couldn’t fake not liking, no matter how I tried, was the people. So many people in my apartment. Crowding my space, all over the place. I could barely think. Even in Manehattan it wasn’t this crowded. It was like the whole town was in my apartment. Maybe they were. I had barely even settled in and they probably knew my place better than I did by this point. It took all I had not to slip one into the closet and kill him, as much as I wanted to.

After a while, I met this girl. Fluttershy her friends introduced her. She looked very shy and timid. Certainly lived up to her name. She hid behind her hair. Her long pink hair. She spoke in a quiet voice that was a little difficult to hear over the party. I cut myself some cake to look normal as the other spoke to me. I pretended to listen. In reality I was interested in Fluttershy. She seemed to be interested in me, watching me as the purple unicorn named Twilight Sparkle talked to me. Everyone else was focused on her, but Fluttershy as watching me. Why? Could she tell who I really was? Was the party putting me off my game and stressing me out so much that I was showing? Or did she see something else?

What happened next seemed to happen in slow motion. I could see a spark in Fluttershy’s eyes as they widened. Her chest expanded and fell faster. She gasped quietly. It almost sounded more like a squee. The corners of her mouth flinched for a fraction of a second, but long enough to tell me she as supressing a smile. I could tell she was getting excited. Something was re-kindling an old flame, but what? Was it me? Did she have the hots for me?

“Oh my god!”

“Oh crap!”

“Someone get help!”

Maybe something else about me…

I’ll admit, that Twilight Sparkle is really good at magic. Extremely good. I’ll have to call her next time I slash up myself. She fixed me right up. Left no scars, even. That’s good. Too bad about Pinkie’s cake though. Nobody wanted to eat a bloody cake, I suppose. She didn’t seem to mind, though. She said that accidents happen, and just pulled another cake from completely out of nowhere. To this day, it still perplexes me sometimes about the things that pony did.

But the real mystery lay in Fluttershy. Why did she act that way when I cut my arm? What was she getting so worked up over? Did she like to see me in pain? Or did she love the red liquid that had spilt all over? I needed to know more.

For the next few days, I spent my spare time into finding out more about Fluttershy. The bad thing about a small town is, there’s no database to crack. The good thing about a small town is, everybody knows everybody. With no computers to hack, I took to the streets, asking anypony that looked like they would know something. I started with her friends I had met at the party. I was discreetly, of course. It would seem a little suspicious for the new guy to be asking so much about one person.

For the most part, they seemed nice enough. They all seemed to know Fluttershy pretty well. Apparently she was some sort of animal caretaker. She had animals of nearly every kind. Fish, birds, rodents, cats, you name it. She cared for, fed and worked with all of them. She even got a manticore to be nice to her. She really liked animals. To her, they weren’t just pets. They were friends. Friends only she could communicate to. Friends who would listen to what she had to say and not judge her. Friends I sometimes wish I had.

Everyone I spoke to had something to say about Fluttershy. I don't know if that's bad or good. Most of them just went on about how she had helped their ill pet or generously gave someone one of her animals as a pet. Others told of how timid and shy she was. She was the quietest pony in Ponyville. Some even said she was afraid of her own shadow. I already knew that, but then there were some who told of Fluttershy's amazing power.

They told me that while she may appear scared and shy most of the time, she could also be very fierce and aggressive. They told me that she had this incredible power, "The Stare". It was a technique that she would use when she wanted total obedience over someone. She couldn't control when she used it, but it was very powerful. Apparently, if you threatened her friends, she could do some nasty damage. According to eyewitnesses, she once told off a dragon, and stared down a cockatrice. Right. In. the. Eyes.

Not bad.

It was beginning to make sense. A quiet animal lover who spends all her time in the woods, alone, violent tendencies, an untapped potential inside, just waiting to be released. All of these point to your classic psychopath. I should know. If even half the stories where true, this Fluttershy was one I'd have to watch out for.

It was probably the blood. Just by looking at fresh blood seeping from an open wound, she began to get excited and felt overwhelmed. I guess that would make sense. I like blood, too. The smell, the colour, the feel. I understand what she feels. Blood is a pretty big part of my work, both on and off duty. It can be… alluring.

If Fluttershy was like that, too, then she would need to see fresh blood spilt on a regular basis. She would need that release. If Fluttershy needed to get release, she must have shed blood herself. I had her. I felt it in my gut. Fluttershy was like me, had those urges and needed to kill. As eager as I was to prepare, I had to slow down and remember what my father had taught me. All I needed was proof. I had to make sure that I really had a killer's blood on my hooves and not an innocent's.

The only thing was: I wasn't able to find anything. Absolutely nothing came up involving recent murders or serial killings that could possibly link back to Fluttershy. Sure, there were murders and old murder cases that had gone cold, but none that would work to fit the killer as Fluttershy. If she really was a killer, she was extremely good. Maybe even as good as me.

In time like this, I need to witness the killings myself. I had to see a real victim. I had to make sure.
I made sure to keep an eye on Fluttershy. Watching where she was going, who was seeing and how she acted. For a while, nothing. Just the usual animal lover crap. Then, one day, she asked her farmer friend, Applejack, if she could come over that night. She mentioned something about 'being stressed' and 'relieving some pressure'.
Bingo. I had her.

Needless to say, I followed them to the farm. It was a nice place. Dark, creepy and spooky at night. It almost made up for the missing night life. Applejack's family ran an apple farm, "Sweet Apple Orchards". There were hundreds of apple trees, all around the place. Good place to bury a body. Out in the fields where rarely anyone looks.

I watched closely as Applejack lead the way to a large shed, out in the middle of the orchards. Far away from prying eyes. Except mine. It was close to midnight and very dark. Good time to wear clothes. Dark clothes. Applejack entered the shed. Fluttershy followed shortly after, checking to make uses they weren't followed. Luckily, she couldn't see me. I guess I'm just that good. As she closed the door I could hear it lock with a loud click. I hadn't thought to bring my lock picking tools. Too bad. Oh well, I could still view nicely from the window.

I peered inside through the dirty window and drank in the scenery. it was beautiful. It was rather dim, except for a circle of lights, all pointed directly at the centre of the room. The majority of the far side of the room was a lowered area with steps running down about six feet. A table sat in the centre. Huge heavy chains hung from the ceiling. Large chunks of bloody meat were hooked onto them. The walls were splattered with dried blood that has dripped onto the rusty floor, making them indistinguishable. An assortment of blades, cutting tools and knives littered the back walls close to where I was.

It was a butcher's paradise.

It was clear that they had been at this a long time. This was the proof I needed to begin my preparations, and put away the doubt and uncertainty that was keeping me back. I could have left then and there. In most cases that would have good enough. Quiet pony with great power and violent tendencies, sneaking out into a bloody murder shed in the middle of the night. It all worked out. But… I couldn’t leave. I had to see the victim. I had to see how she did it. How she got rid of the body. She was so clean, completely untraceable.

Applejack waited up by the observation deck while Fluttershy slowly stepped down into the middle. She approached the table. That’s when I was the victim. This must have been ‘Bill’. He was already prepared for her, tied up in such an expertise manner. There was no way he was escaping. Must have been the rodeo girl. She looks like she’d be able to tie someone like that. Years of hogtying paid off. Bill struggled to escape. He was tied tightly to the table, which was bolted to the floor. Even with all his strength he couldn’t even move.

Fluttershy looked over the victim. Her victim. Hers to do with as she pleased. Applejack wasn’t going to stop her. She was with her, behind her 100 percent. In fact, if Fluttershy didn’t need to do this, Applejack might have been the one to do it. I could see her doing it. As ‘Shy circled round her victim, I could see she was beginning to get excited again. Her blood pulsed raced in anticipation of the events to come. The blood that would she shed.

She walked over her wall of sharps objects and picked a classic: A machete. She smiled darkly. I watched as she made her way to her squealing victim. Obviously Bill didn’t want to die. But it’s the natural order of things. It had to be done.

Fluttershy smiled as she tilted her head. She faced her playmate upside down. Closer and closer she leaned in, until they were nose to nose. She stared intensely into her victim’s eyes. Bill immediately stopped struggling and looked back, completely frightened to the core. He was scared stiff. It was like she was staring into his soul. The Stare. I got to see it in action. How lucky of me.

Fluttershy eased way from her poor traumatized Bill. Time to do it. Enough foreplay, time to feed these urges and be free for a while. She raised the machete above her head. “Don’t worry. It will all be over soon.” She assured him as she brought her arms down.

For a while, Fluttershy entered a completely new mode. She was in pure ecstasy as she butchered him. She went to town on this guy. The blood turned her on excruciatingly. To her, it was like a child opening a well waited for Christmas present. Such joy, such rage, such passion, all at the same time. It was amazing.

Applejack watched on with a strong face. She had seen these kinds of things before. Many times. Yet, underneath her stone face, I could tell she was saddened. She obviously knew Bill for a number of years. For their relationship to end this way must have been… tragic. I wonder what that feels like.

By now, FlutterRage had passed. Her thirst for blood was quenched and now lay dormant. She had her fill. She was good for now. As fresh red splatters dripped down the walls, Fluttershy just stood, breathing heavily. Bill was gone. The only thing left was a pink and yellow pegasus with red all over. Applejack stepped towards the stairs. Nobody said anything for a while. Just calming themselves from what had just transpired.

“Sugah Cube?”

When Fluttershy didn’t respond, she descended the steps. She stood beside Fluttershy. She had dropped the blade sometime by the end of the massacre. In a pool of Bill’s blood, Fluttershy fell to her haunches and began to weep. She sniffled and cried. Tears flowed down and fell into the blood, mixing with the red liquid. Applejack knelt down and comforted the weeping pegasus. She held Shy close to her as she cried into her chest. Bill’s blood got onto Applejack.

“I… I’m so sorry…” Fluttershy whispered.

“Shh… It’s okay. Ah understand. Bill was old and needed tah be put down.”

“I…, *sniff*, I know…” she breathed sporadically, “I just… I don’t want to hurt anybody…"

“Ah know sugah. That’s why you come here, to relieve stress without hurting anypony. In fact, you’re helping me a lot.”

Fluttershy looked up at Applejack. “Th-thank… you, Applejack. For letting me do this… here, instead of…”

“It’s okay. I know you need to do this. I’ll always be here for ya.”

The two friends sat in the bloody mess and collected themselves. It was a strange occurrence, especially after what just happened, and the fact they were still in the aftermath of it. I’ll never understand mares.

I backed away from the scene and leaned against the shed. It was all so clear to me now. Fluttershy wasn’t a cold blooded psychopath, she was a reluctant killer. She had a blood lust that urged her to kill and spill blood. He needed to. But, deep down, Fluttershy wasn’t like that. She didn’t want to be a killer. She didn’t want to hurt anyone. She didn’t want to kill an innocent pony, or any pony for that matter. That’s why she came down to Applejack’s butcher shed. To keep it all away from anyone she might hurt. That’s why she had killed Bill the pig.

Applejack knew Fluttershy was a killer. She also knew that she didn’t what to hurt anybody. It would be bad for a lot of people. Fluttershy may have had the same urges I had, but she was innocent. She was inexperienced and messy. She would have been found out for sure. Applejack was a kind friend, who understood Fluttershy’s dilemma. But, she wasn’t good at teaching her how to cover her tracks. How to stalk her prey and clean up afterwards. She did, however, know she needed release. An escape from the immense pressure of needing to kill.

That’s why Fluttershy killed animals.

Applejack, for God knows how long, had let her slaughter animals to cover up the kills. Animals that were supposed to be killed anyway. Livestock. The blood of pigs, cows and bulls stained the walls of this shed, not ponies. I can’t imagine how difficult it must be for Shy. To kill the ones you are known to love and care for. To murder those you spend so much time with and love to care for. Well, better animals that have to die, than an innocent pony, right?

The long walk back gave me time to reflect.

I nearly made a mistake that day. A grave mistake. A mistake that would cause a lot of people a lot of grief. It reminded me how sure I must be when I choose my next playmate. It keeps me reminded of how close I came to almost taking someone’s life that didn’t deserve to die. Sure, they were a killer, and wanted bloodshed, lusted after it, but it’s not want they wanted. They were strong. Strong enough to channel that destructive force into something positive. To keep themselves safe, and the ones they love safe.

I must be more careful. Not to jump to conclusions or make assumptions about people; even if I’m right about my gut, sometimes I don’t know the whole story. I need to take a look from other people’s perspective. Understand why they do what they do. Know that what they do is directed at the right demographic. Make sure I know the victim, not just the killer. I must know both side of the coin of death. If I ever forget that…

Well, now I know. Don’t judge a book by its cover. I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for Fluttershy now, though. Don’t want her blood lust escalating into something more that just killing a few pigs can’t handle...

The next day, a grand barbeque was held; meat supplied by Sweet Apple Acres. There were hotdogs and beef and burgers galore. Hundreds of ponies attended. It was my apartment all over again. I didn’t think that ponies were ones to dine on such meat, but there was a cause for celebration, so it was a special occasion. At least, Pinkie made one. She called it ‘Rainbow Dash’s get out of the hospital with only minors injuries party’. That Pinkie Pie… You know, I think I may be getting better at pretending to put up with other people. If Pinkie’s gonna be hosting parties for nearly every little thing that happens, I’ll be getting a lot of chances to practice. And that’s good. Want to hone my skills of deception. Wouldn’t want a slip-up…

End.

Darling Little Rarity Part One

Darling Little Rarity Part One

O N E

Sun. The day. The bright and blinding light of Celestia’s huge flaming ball of gas showers down upon all the land. Dexter does not like it. There are too many problems with the day. It is too bright. Too hot. Too irksome to this monster’s business.

O how Dexter can never wait for the shadows to cast over the land and fill the sky with a dim light, just enough for the trained eye to see its blinded prey. The jeweled sky of Luna. Just the image is enough. The Need calls out, urging him to go. Go. Do it. Do it now! But he must be patient. He must be careful. Now is neither the time nor the place. If there is one thing he is besides a monster, it is obedient to The Code. Patience, my friend. If we've made it this long, surely one more day would be nothing.

Unfortunately, the shadows do not surround this hidden hunter. The anticipation dies down in dearly demented Dexter as Celestia’s light shines down and swallows him up in its blinding haze. The darkness lay dormant for now, waiting patiently for the right time. But like all predators, cover must be kept lest the element of surprise falls away, and they prey escapes. And the predator is executed. So I go, keeping the façade alive. Saving my true identity, my true nature for the right time.

“Buy some apples, sir?”

Ah, the familiar desperate call of business. The shouts and hounding cries of ponies trying to sell you anything at an overcharged price. One of the few similarities of here and home. And like home, I do not stop. I continue on, as my mission of the morning does not include purchasing apples. However, I do take the time to be polite and say, without shouting, “Not today, thanks.” I doubt she heard me in this crowd. I do not care.

Weaving in and out of ponies scattered throughout the farmer’s market, I have finally made my way to my destination: Sugar Cube Corner, the local bakery shop. Despite my relative newness to the town, I didn't get lost. A huge gingerbread house in the middle of small brown buildings and thatched roofs wasn't an easy thing to miss. As I enter, the yellow stallion behind the counter immediately puts on his cheery salesman face, just as fake as the ones back home. But this is one that almost seems genuine. A rare commodity in the big city. I ask for a box of assorted dozen donuts. He cheerfully repeats my order and quickly goes about grabbing tongs and a box. In a very happy and enthusiastic manner, he tosses exactly twelve fresh donuts into the pink box and shuts the lid. He places the box on the counter, still smiling. He pauses for a second and looks at Dexter, the very patient customer. After a moment of silence, the yellow cashier speaks.

"Hey, you're the new guy...Dexter, right?"

"That's me." I say, giving him my best impersonation of a smile. I have never seen this pony before in my life.

He smiles back, and almost as if on cue, explains, "Pinkie told me about you. Sorry I couldn't make it to your party."

My party. He makes it sound like I wanted the whole town to be inside my apartment; pushing me to my limit of self-control.

"Didn't you cut yourself or something?" he asks.

New spreads fast. I shrug casually.

"Yeah, but it's no problem." I say in a way I hoped would give him the hint to shut up and leave me be. Although I would have loved to stay and start chatting up a lively conversation about self-mutilation, I decided there were more important things to do with my time. I’m sure he would understand.

I paid him and I was out. I walked down the street of bland buildings and thatched roofs, offset by the multitude of techno-coloured ponies. Everybody I passed gave me a smile or a hello. At first I politely reciprocated these gestures, but after about ten of them I had settled on ignoring them. It was so odd to be receiving such politeness and general happiness from total strangers. The closest thing to that in Manehatten was if someone cut you off in traffic and their yells did not include obscenities.

Ah, how I missed Manehatten. The towering sky scrapers, the bright lights and the endless blood soaked crime scenes. My kind of town. I’d spent so much time in the dark alleyways, abandoned buildings and shady meeting places over the years, I'd practically known them by heart. If I had one. Maybe a wizard would give me one someday. But until that day, there would always be that need, that urge, to keep on reminding me that there were things to do.

Now that urge would have to be satisfied here, in Ponyville, the place of sunshine, smiles and donuts. I could have gagged at the thought, had I not been trained to keep a straight face at these kinds of 'pony' things. Now now, I assured myself, every place has its secrets and nobody is perfect, no matter how clean they may seem. The recent addition to the police force's homicide department proved that. But no matter how good the law is, there are always those that get away, those that slip through the cracks. That's where I come in. Dexter is here to make sure they get what they deserve.

A new town. A fresh start.

It may have been the idea of plunging a finely sharpened knife into the chest cavity of a murderer wrapped on a table that got my day going, but it was the donuts that the ‘new guy’ had brought that tickled all the ponies down at the precinct’s fancy. Near the entrance to the Homicide Department, a somewhat elderly white pony took the first of the donuts I had.

“Hey, donuts!” He took one between his false teeth. “Thanks, uh…”

“Dexter.” I smiled casually.

“That’s a weird name,” he said bluntly, “I’m Tangerine Sprinkle. Detective Tangerine Sprinkle.”

I nodded politely and headed on in. Everybody in the offices and hallways said hello and I politely offered them each a donut. Even if offering donuts was not considered a polite social gesture, I still would have given them away. In my early days, I used to enjoy a fresh donut before a call to action, but sadly the novelty of them had worn thin. I watched as one by one the baked circles of dough, loaded with sugars and carbs, disappeared from my box. Hm. I'll stick to my needles and knives please.

"Hey, you're one of the new guys, right? Not a bad first impression."

I smiled as the bronze pony wearing a fedora took the last remaining donut and walked back to his desk. Satisfied with their glazed sugary dough, everybody else got back to work and I was left standing there with a greasy pink box. I looked down into it. It was completely empty. Like me.

Done with my entrance, I went into a small room in the corner, which upon entering I saw contained rows and rows of bottles of chemicals, machines and assorted blood tech. It was somewhat smaller than the one back home, something I had expected moving from Manehatten to here, but I made due. I had barely got acquainted into my new office when some red maned yellow pony entered it. He knocked politely, acquiring my attention. .

"Hey, we're gonna get started with the thing now." he said.

One of my eyebrows stayed in place while the other climbed high on my forehead as I looked at him. "Thing?" I asked him.

"Yeah. You know. The thing." he looked at me as if I had my head stuffed in my ass. "The... speech or whatever. Hell, I don't know, whatever it is. It's starting now. C'mon."

Well who could say no to that? Reluctantly, I rose from my chair and followed him to where a crowd of ponies had gathered in a doorway. We all herded like cattle into the large meeting room. Rows and rows of chairs were filled with police officers and detectives; at the front of the room was a podium. The air was thick with the smell of coffee and my donuts on ponies' breath. I regretted ever buying those things. I sat next to the yellow pony, who later introduced himself as Crimson Speed, in the back, along with our fellow lab geeks. As we waited for this... 'thing' to start, I tried my best not to fall asleep. I already knew what this address would be about, and I knew I'd seen enough in Manehatten to know how to do my job. There had been no big news reports or murders to discuss with the Ponyville Homicide department. The only thing to discuss was the fact there was a Homicide department in the first place.

Finally, a dark brown pony with a black mane and glasses strode up to the podium. Her horn glowed green as she levitated a thick stack of papers that was supposed to be a speech up to the stand. Everyone went quiet. She cut the papers and tapped them against the desk, shuffling them into a very neat and exact order. She cleared her throat.

"Good morning. I am Lieutenant Tracy Spectra. Today is a very important day for Ponyville, as we open the new Ponyville Homicide Department."

She droned on for solid twenty minutes. Everyone in the room listened intently, except for me. I assume she went on about each part of the department and how important they are, all the while trying to look good for the dozens of reporters and cameras surrounding the room. I say assume, because all I heard was 'blah blah blah please kill me'. Oh, how I would, lady, had The Code allowed it. She went on.

"We also have been given the honor of having many professional forensics analysts and technicians from all over Equestria join us."

This is the only part that has anything to do with me.

"As Ponyville has never had the required tools and resources to begin on its own, we have the pleasure of these ponies teaching us and aiding in our endeavour to keep Ponyville safe. In addition, we have also promoted a new detective into our force, Ms.-"

She went back to her monotonous drone. I sunk back and closed my eyes, feeling myself blend into the chair and melt away into the background. I drowned out the speech with thoughts of the wonderful things I would soon do, and just how helpful I would be here. Still, Lieutenant Spectra's words bounced around my head and made me think about why I was here.

No, I wasn't thinking that deep philosophical thought of the reason or truth behind the meaning of existence and conscience entirely, for I am but a humble pony. But there was a reason I had to be in Ponyville. See, Ponyville may be a small city comparatively, but it is nonetheless a growing town, with growing tourism. The fact that a group of ponies here had saved the world a few times over didn't hurt either. When I had heard the news of their victory over Nightmare Moon, I simply sighed. Endless night didn't sound so bad to me. Then there was Discord. Apparently, his power had only affected Ponyville, as Manehatten stayed there same during his release. Later they were called heroes. Yeah, because you really made a difference out there, stopping all those bad guys.

Because of this increase in population, the crime rate in Ponyville increased post haste. The small police force Ponyville needed to be expanded and upgraded when they got swamped with both misdemeanors and murders. So they created a new homicide department and decided they needed a blood spatter analyst. Why not Dexter? They sent some letters to Manehatten Homicide, requesting aid. They showed it to me and asked me to go show the newbies how things are done. Well, things were getting rather routine and boring back home anyways. Routine is never good. As clean as I am, it’s best to mix it up a little. Stay above it all. Besides, maybe a change of scenery wouldn't be the worst thing. The second I stepped off the train and met Pinkie Pie, I realized I was wrong.

My eyes snapped open just in time to catch everybody leaving. The podium was empty; no trance of Ms. Spectra remained. I cricked my neck and got up to leave. I was herded out with the cattle again and headed back to the dark cave of the corner office. Only a few short minutes later, and Crimson Speed was back in my office, with another 'thing'.

"C'mon, Dex. Load up." he said with a bright smile, "We've got a scene."

I smiled. Now that's my kind of 'thing'.

Darling Little Rarity Part Two

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.

Darling Little Rarity Part Three

T H R E E

I stopped running to catch my breath. Perhaps it wasn't the best or most inconspicuous idea to run, but at least I had enough distance that she would not find me. I slowed to a walk through the desolate streets of Ponyville, trying to look as casual as possible while my normally calm and collected brain was twisted and confused trying to figure out these impossible turn of events.

‘How’ and ‘Why?’ were the two most prominent questions in my head. I came up with several reasons as to why she might return home while on her way to a party and plop herself on the couch, but none seemed plausible. Despite my lack of not being a real pony, I knew that was not how ponies were supposed to act. Even if the party had been miraculously called off for some reason, her destination for the evening was ten minutes from here house. To go there and back would be twenty. It was impossible. It didn’t make sense. I don’t like it when things don’t make sense.

It annoyed me. Even Tom’s too-cheery voice would have been a pleasant distraction at this point. I couldn’t harm Burster while she was still technically innocent until guilty in a court of Dexter's Code. I blew a heat of air through my nostrils. Sometimes I wished I didn’t need the code. Just Us, going about, doing as We pleased, doing whatever We want. All that red liquid… Then I realize how stupid that sounds.

All in all, a night well wasted. Damn. Who knows when I would get another chance? I could keep an eye on her from a distance and sneak in when she was out, but... when would that be? And who’s to say it would go smoothly, given how well tonight went? I blew out a deep breath and calmed down. I had lasted this long. Surely-

"Oh! Dexter!"

The sudden cry pierced the silence of night. If I were any other pony, I would have jumped, perhaps in fright. Instead, I turned my head in the direction of my calling. Who would want stupid old Dexter this time of night?

A pony came running up to me. As she got closer, I could see she was a white unicorn with a finely quaffed blue mane. No, it was purple. Oh god. It was her. She trotted up to me a look of sheer desperation and worry.

"Oh Dexter, thank heavens I found you," She spoke to me with an accent I couldn't truly define, but sounded rather high class. A rarity in Ponyville. "I need your help! Sweetie Belle has run away! I fear she has gone off where none return!”

Well now the night was two for two on confusing the hell out of darling little Dexter. A plethora of new questions flooded my poor overworked brain. How did she know my name? Why did she want me? Who was Sweetie Belle? Why on earth should I care?

"Dexter?” she asked, “Are you listening? Sweetie Belle is missing. Will you help me look for her?"

I stared blankly for a second. My gears revved, and my wheels spun, but I went nowhere. "Um, well I ah-" I was really caught off guard.

"Dexter?" she asked, "You do know who I am don't you?"

I had no response. Given all that I knew of her, there would be no polite way to say anything.

She sighed and shook her head. "I'm Rarity. I was at your house warming party last week.”

Who wasn’t?

“I also saw you at the…” She paused and looked down, “ahem… at the-the scene." She spoke with a strained voice. “I'm sorry, I'm not sure if we were ever properly introduced... but I recognized you. You’re with the police, right? I thought I could get your help." She began to sound desperate again.

I shook my head and formed my first coherent sentence: "Calm down. Tell me what happened." Why on earth did I say that?

Ms. Rarity breathed a bit to calm down. “Well, it all started at the… you know.”

I did know what she meant. The Murder. Felt so easy to say. Well, think anyway.

She fought back the tears and continued, “I knew her. Her name was Rainy Day. Oh, despite her name, she was the kindest and sweetest thing. She was a regular at my shop and a very good friend. Ah, she was like an aunt to Sweetie Belle. I can’t understand why anypony…” She went silent again. If she was going to be this touchy with the subject of death, this could take a while. During this pause, a new question rose up from the back: Why was I still listening to her?

“Anyway, when I broke the news to Sweetie Belle, she took it hard. She didn’t believe me at first, but she knew I wasn’t lying. She cried and ran off to the west o Ponyville. I tried to follow her, but, well, I’m not the spry young pony I once was. I lost her just before she ran off into the Everfree forest. I don’t think she even knew where she was going, the poor thing.”

While she explained the situation, I felt the darkness in the back seat grow bored. It growled with hunger. It was feeding time… No. Not yet. But something had to be done. I could not get sidetracked. I tried to decline in a most civil manner.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Rarity. I don't really think I can help. I’m not a cop, just a lab geek."

"Dexter!" she said with a tone of desperation, "Please! I don't know what else to do!"

Call the cops, look for her yourself, ask someone you actually knew... All viable options that apparently did not cross her mind. Why did I have to be the one to help? What was this, a poorly contrived plot point?

It wasn't difficult to appear calm, as none of this really worried me. "Calm down. I'm sure she’s fine. Ponyville's not that bad a place. She’ll be back eventually.”

“Oh, but she’s just a kid! A filly. I can’t imagine she would ever be safe in the Everfree, let alone at this time of night!”

A child. Of course she would have to be a child. Fillies. The only kind of pony I can actually bear. The only pony I would never dare to harm. Now one could be potentially in danger. ...in Ponyville. Those last two words cemented the situation and I made my choice.

“Look. I’m sorry Ms. Rarity, but I really don’t think I can help. I don’t know the Everfree at all. I’d probably get lost, too.” I gave a weak but concerned smile. “Why not ask one of your friends, like Fluttershy?”

Rarity stopped sobbing and went quiet. She slowly looked up at me in disbelief. I sensed her desperation become replaced with anger. “Fluttershy!?” she shouted, “I love her dearly, but she wouldn’t have the guts to go into the Everfee alone, even for this!”

I wondered how much of that would be true, given what I knew about her. Rarity went on, “Really! I don’t believe this. Leaving a damsel in distress and abandoning a poor innocent CHILD to the Everfree! I can’t believe this. Why I never… What kind of heartless pony are you?” She stared me straight in the eye.

The walk to the Everfree forest was a very odd one. It wasn’t odd in the sense that something odd happened. Nothing at all happened, no matter how hard I wished it would. The oddness of the walk was the walk itself. The fact that I was going to actually do this fascinated me.

I could have walked away. I really and very easily could have. This was not my problem and it was certainly no one I knew. It would have taken but a moment to decline again, tell her to get help elsewhere, go home and sleep. Recharge my tactical and logical brain to begin figuring out my own problems regarding Sky Burster. Instead I had chosen to go and help find this missing child. And it wasn’t as though she was kidnapped. There was no psychopathic monster that had taken her and left mysterious clues that only I could decipher, leading me on a grand adventure into his bloody and scary shed woods. She had run away.

But this is what good little ponies do, isn’t it? Help out one another. This was humble Dexter serving his community, becoming known with the locals and offering a hoof to help, instead of feeding the hungry animal within. Despite my sudden out of character moment in such a dire situation, the Dark Passenger was surprisingly silent. Its coldness almost felt real. Like it was mad with me. Was that even possible?

I came to a stop and stood a few feet from the entrance to the forest; the one Rarity had called ‘Everfree’. I drank in the eerie scenery. It looked spooky enough cause worry, but then again, all forests look the same at night. I began by calling out her name; by some miracle I had remembered it.

“Sweetie Belle!” I shouted, cupping my hooves around my mouth. Then I realized it didn’t help as hooves don’t bend that way. I listened; no reply. I shouted a couple more times but got the same response. I stood there, staring into the black forest. Then another thought popped into my head: I could turn back now. I could return to Rarity and tell her I just couldn’t find her friend. I would be right when I told her I couldn’t help, and then all would be right with the world. Save for my original problem. There was no disagreement in the back seat to this plan. I stood silent, pondering what to do. A minute passed. I was still there. Then, just as easily as it would take to leave, I went in.

Well, what the hell? I had already come out this far, might as well take a look around. Who knows, I might get lucky and find her. I went few steps into the forest.

That was all it took.

That was all that we needed before I felt it. I felt something for once. It was then We knew why Rarity had been so worried for her friend’s life, why she didn’t go into here, why nobody ever went into here: The Darkness. The never ending and evil Darkness. Even though We were only a few feet in, We felt endless and empty blackness stretching out all around Us. We drew it all in. Everything evil in this world, everything evil ever knew, was felt in this place. It was this place. Black wings flexed up and out, finally able to stretch. The Dark Passenger roared in pleasure, or what I assumed to be pleasure. I wasn’t sure. It all felt the same. It felt like cold and agony and pain. And it was good. An incredible feeling. However, it was something else entirely; it was nowhere akin to the release of a kill. Yes, a kill. The feeling I get when I murder someone. The blood. The breaking of muscle and tissue. And the screams. I could hear them. Cries of agony and screams like-

“AAAAAAAHHH!”

Like that. I was pulled from my luscious and beautiful trance of the mind. I looked around and found I had wandered deep into the Everfree. A repetition of trees ran in every direction, but only in one of them, I heard it. The unmistakable scream of a mare. I galloped. A few dozen meters of hard running brought me to the source of the sound: another white unicorn. Only this one was backed up against a tree, facing down a large snarling Timberwolf. I had heard of them, but didn’t think they actually existed. Right now, I didn’t think at all. It all was pure instinct. The regular strategizing and logical Dexter was in the passenger’s seat now. I ran full tilt at the Timberwolf. He did not see me, but he sure as hell felt me. My eyes closed as I slammed my full body force against it. When I opened them, the Timberwolf was gone. Where did it go? Looking around and I saw it, or rather half of it, as it was quickly sinking into a large bog I had not seen.

The Timberwolf howled and screeched, trying to escape the swamp. Its trashing about only made it sink in quicker. I saw less and less of it through the darkness, until it disappeared completely with a loud BLORP. Not how I expected my first kill in Ponyville to go.

But it was over. I had control of my body again. I turned back to where the unicorn was, expecting to hear a ‘Thank you, Mister’, or ‘Thank god you decided to save me; you’re my hero!’, or some other form of praise. But instead, she was silent. She was out cold, slumped against the trunk of the tree. I stood for a moment, waiting for my long and deep breaths to stop. I kept looking between her and the bog that had killed the Timberwolf. Had helped me kill the Timberwolf.

There was nothing to say. I looked around and noticed just how much physically darker it was in here than it seemed. We had to go. I nudged my head under her body. I thrust my head under and up, tossing her body onto my back. This kid was heavy. I looked around and realized that even though I had found the kid, I had no idea where I was.

No idea which way was out.

I was lost in the Everfree forest.

All in the Presentation Part One

F I V E

For me, there are very few things left in the world that can actually come as a surprise. Given my current occupation, the kinds of things I see ponies do each other and the kind of things I do to other ponies, there is little left that give me much excitement or any kind of idea of feeling, aside from the Dark Passenger and his business. And once I moved my business into such a sleepy town as Ponyville, I had thought for sure that the next four weeks here would be nothing except mundane killing and hunting.

Back in the day, within the never ending supply of messy murderers and slippery suspects, there was always that one psychotic serial killer that stepped out of line and wanted to be noticed. They had to be cryptic and mysterious. A body with no blood, a severed head atop a doll’s body or perhaps a corpse refashioned into a lovely decorative piece. The kind that went, 'Hey, wanna play?'. And we did. That’s when the Dark Passenger would come alive, stretch its wings, and aid Determined Dexter in completing, and winning, this devilish game. Then I would fall back into the routine of eat-work-kill-sleep until the next demented doctor decided to chop of ponies' limbs.

Well, Dexter old chum, looks like Ponyville isn’t so different after all. Now I had someone else to play with. Another pony that was just as twisted as I am, and saw the world the way I do. A fresh game to play.

And I hated it.

Don't get me wrong. I enjoy the challenge of having to wrap my mind around chilling puzzles and working my lizard brain to solve murders. Often the show left after my playmate was done was a spectacle to behold. A breath-taking change of pace and an excellent way to feel like there was more to life than just eat-work-kill-sleep.

But this was wrong.

I stared for centuries at the wings. There were only two thoughts in my brain at the moment: the first one was, this can't be her. Just because this was her house and wings were the same colour as hers, did not necessarily mean this was Sky Burster. But, Dexter is not a silly person, and it would have been silly to even consider it. Of all ponies, I should know this this was indeed her. The second thought, the most prominent one which filled the majority of my brain, was, how dare they.

This was mine. She was to be my reward for being a good little killer and waiting patiently. I had hid for so long in the light. This was supposed to be my release. My descent back into the darkness. Now someone else wanted a piece of my delicious dark delicacy. But why, of all ponies, had they chosen Sky Burster? Was it merely coincidence? It wouldn't the first time somebody knew about me and wanted to send a message. Or could it have been something else... Did they know what she had done? Could there be another Dark Defender in Ponyville?

By now, Tom had caught up to be and had got silent. He let out a low whistle. "Wow..." he said quietly, "That's not something you see every day."

I was silent for a moment longer. Then I shook my head. "Nope." I dropped my gaze down. When I returned it up, I was expecting the wings to magically turn into whoever had done this, bound and gagged, and a knife to appear in my hooves, just so I could make the world fair. Unfortunately, life is not fair and magic does not work that way, and so sadly I came back to a pair of crusty green and red wings.

"Well, no time like the present, I suppose." Tom snapped a few photos, pulled on some rubber gloves, and went about doing my job.

I numbly watched as Tom performed my job with less enthusiasm than before. My mask was fading, and the inky blackness began to come bubbling up from inside. My eyes strained to feign interest while my brain worked in every direction, trying to determine the correct course of action to go from here. My goal until now had been to prove Sky Burster’s guilt. Now, I had no idea what to do.

“Hey, do you want a look?” Tom offered me.

I shook my head instinctively, still not quite back to reality and Tom took that as a no. Which was still my answer. I didn’t need to see the wings. The fact that they were here and not on Sky Burster’s back, waiting to be sliced off and put into a garbage bag that would then be tossed into the Everfree swamps, told me everything.

Tom began to untie the strings holding up the wings. "Here, I'll toss 'em to you."

To be able to continue such a dangerous yet delicate hobby of mine, one needs reflexes sharp enough to escape the police. Growing up, I spent years training my reflexes to be able to move silently and pounce quickly. This was the only reason that I was able to catch the wing hurdling towards my head. My mind was totally elsewhere. I was just lucky I used my hooves to catch and not my mouth.

I shifted my eyes up to look at him. “Do not handle evidence that way,” I sternly spoke.

“Sorry.” he said rather quietly and serenely.

I performed my job with a solemn face, one that I suppose could be mistaken for sadness or grief. It fit with the situation I had to deal with. But the reason for my stone-like face was not that I had spontaneously and wondrously grown emotions. No, I simply was on autopilot while I was lost in thought. I couldn't stop thinking about how much I wanted Sky Burster to still be alive, so I could kill her and whoever took her.

The wings were sealed in two large evidence bags and put away into the police van. We had barely shut the doors when I became blinded by a billion flashing lights. I instinctively turned away. However, poor naive Tom was caught. He stared, transfixed by these lights, watching them pop and flash and whiz. A cacophony of noise grew from the distance and spread out into a cluster of many indistinguishable voices. Tom, being new to homicide investigation, must have had no idea what was going on, and just froze, transfixed by the shouts of news hounds and the crashes of cameras knocking together as they tried to snap a pic of the grotesque scene.

I had seen this many a time before in Manehatten, when some of my fellow murderers decided to get too flashy or wanted to make a point. However, it wasn't often that so many reporters and journalists saw interest in actually appearing at the scene, mostly due to their weak stomachs and the fact they could not publish pictures so ‘controversial’. Usually, they opted out for a press conference, where they could pick apart and destroy the reputation of whichever unfortunate figurehead of the police in charge of the investigation.

A second smaller wave of incoherent babble brewed up, this time from the confused police force, though some of the more experienced tried to lock a professional frown on their faces.

But just before we became hopelessly buried in an endless sea of bright lights and interrogative questions, the unfortunate figurehead of the police in charge of the investigation arrived on the scene. All attention diverted to the still stoned faced Tracy Spectra. Mechanically, she stepped out of her wagon and immediately marched up to the house that used to belong to Sky Burster. The sea swarmed around her, splitting down the center and swallowing her completely. But she did not drown. Ignoring the flashes and yelling, she strode though, all the way to the front door. She did not stop, but immediately turned on her heels. Again, very difficult to do.

“Ms. Spectra, what exactly is going on here?”

“Do you believe we should be worried?”

“Why do you think somepony would do this?”

In my years, I have seen many detectives, sergeants, lieutenants and captains fall to the questions of the news. Any answer was a wrong answer. Any lie that assured safety, to the reporters meant immediate danger. Any mention of a lack of results meant we were useless as police. And of course, any involvement of the truth was unthinkable to even mention.

Tracy Spectra stood firm. She alleviated her fierce expression for a moment and calmly spoke, “There is absolutely no cause for concern. Nopony need worry themselves with this business,” She paused for a moment, her icy stare returning and casting a chill down all of the ponies’ spines. My eyebrows rose as I watched everyone take a step back. “Now. Please. LEAVE.”

A shockwave of hush shot through the crowd. Everyone went silent. Then, like a giant multicoloured slug being sprinkled with salt, the crowd moved as one organism, slowly shifting and sliding away from the salty terror that was Spectra. Even I have to admit, it was scary.

Once all undesired ponies had fled quite literally with their tails between their legs, Spectra calmly turned back around and immediately began barking orders. A yellow pony with a now familiar yellow fedora arrived with Spectra, and go to witness her full force. He kept his head in her direction as he sauntered over to me and Tom.

“Geez. She knows how to get shit done.” he said.

"Yes. Very efficient. Everypony obeys." Tom gave his trademark goofy smile. "I like her."

The yellow pony gave him a quizzical look. He looked at me and I just shrugged. At least we agreed on something. He shook his head and made the mistake of asking for the details. Tom took it upon myself to relay everything that he witnessed. I didn't object, as my inner turmoil to this irksome revelation had kept me from really seeing the 'important' details of the case. His only response to my gruesome tale was to look down, exhale a long held breath and whispering a quiet, "shit..."

He looked left to the house. He gulped then looked back down. Apparently this kind of thing was not common in Ponyville and he didn't know what to do.

"So what do we think?" He turned to me.

I shrugged. "It's hard to say really. The red line is obviously blood. Probably belongs to the same pony as the wings. No hoof prints or markings other than the owner of the house."

"Whoozat?"

"A mare named Sky Burster. I'm thinking these might belong to her, but we won't know for sure till we do the tests." I lied.

The yellow pony furrowed his brow in thought. "And... what about her?"

Everyone went quiet. It was unsurprising to hear that nobody wanted to admit that the chances of Sky Burster still being alive were incredibly slim. They all wanted to cling to that uncertainty, in hopes she was now permanently grounded, but alive. How morally noble them.

Honestly, I hoped she was alive as well, but experience told me not to get my hopes up. If she was dead, which was most likely, then the next best thing for me to do was pretty obvious. But where to start?

A loud shriek of air whooshed above us. Tom jumped in fright, while the rest of the ponies, including myself, ignored it. A white pegasus landed on the ground with a loud thud. His bright blue uniform and hat informed us he was police. I casually glanced over to see the Pegasus stallion gallop over to Spectra, salute, and begin to excitedly ramble about something.

Spectra nodded and the Pegasus flew away just as quickly as he arrived. She turned to our trio. "Detective Bristle!"

He was already trotting up. She bent close and told him what I assumed to be what she was just told. The yellow pony nodded. Spectra then marched over to her wagon and stepped in. Not a second later, the diver reared his hooves and speed away, leaving a large cloud of dust for the officers to choke on.

The yellow detective, apparently named Bristle, walked back to me and the eagerly curious Tom, who was bouncing with excitement. I admit I was interested myself to hear what it was, but I had a pretty good hunch what it was, and that it was not good.

"I don't think we'll be needing those tests, Dex," he said, "Guess who they just found."

Darling Little Rarity Part Four

F O U R

I don’t know how it did it. I really don’t know how. I just did it. I walked out of the Everfree forest just as easily as I walked in. The shadows that hid the yellow-eyes were completely empty and dark and quiet. No creature came within my sight. No Timberwolf or other monster dared to cross my path. They knew which monster in the forest was dominant.

I took a moment to breathe. In that moment, I surveyed my surroundings and found I was right back where I started. A field of lush grass spread around, dimmed grey-blue by the pale moonlight. With the black forest behind me, I saw the lights of Ponyville in the distance. They were significantly dimmer than Manehatten, but it was something. As I began my trek back, I was reminded of the heavy weight of the pony on my back. I don’t know how long I was carrying her, but it definitely put a strain on Dexter's poor back. This isn’t good. I need to be limber and agile, just as much as neat and clean.

She had been out for a while. At first I thought she was just flustered from the shock of being attacked by a Timberwolf, but now I began to wonder. She wasn’t dead; I felt her breathing against my body. Any other pony might begin to worry. But the best I could do was make an observation of the situation and act accordingly. And right now the most logical thing to do was get her into the hooves of someone who could help, and more importantly, cared.

The further away I got from the Everfree, the less I could feel the foreign darkness. Soon I was left with just my own. The Dark Passenger nested down back in the depths of Dexter. Its stillness was surprising, after it’s ravenous displeasure of my actions of the evening. The Everfree forest is something. Its darkness is awe-inspiring. Of course, to say nothing of The Need. That urge still loomed over me like the moon did. That full fat blue moon. As still as the Darkness lie, it did not lie quietly. I heard its rumbling. But, maybe the Everfree could still help after all. I know how dark it is, and the ponies’ avoidance of it is clear. Now I know just how easily a body can be lost in the murky depth of the swamps and the bogs. Who knows how far into the forest they go and how deep they are? And I know my way around, apparently, preventing myself from getting lost. I began to make plans…

“…Mm. Huh? Wha?”

My other passenger awoke. I felt her shift and try to move, but she didn’t get far. I turned my neck around to get a better look at her. It was still dim, but outside of the forest, I could tell she looked a lot like her friend Rarity.

“Hey,” I said in a calm and soothing voice, “Are you okay?”

“Uh? What’s going on? Who are you?” she asked.

“My name is Dexter. Your friend Rarity sent me to find you.”

“Rarity?” she repeated rather woozily.

I nodded. “Are you okay?” I asked again.

She nodded weakly, although that could have just been a combination of her head drooping and the bumpy ride she was receiving. I came to a halt. I bent down low to let her get on the ground with her own four hooves. Her legs shook as she tried to stand.

“Can you walk?” I asked. I didn’t like being a taxi service. Hopefully she could get herself home and leave dreary Dexter in peace.

“Mm. Uh, I think so.” She tried to stand, but immediately collapsed back down. I grunted as she fell on my back. “Ow. Ooh… My hoof hurts…” she whined.

I stood back up. Clearly she was in no condition to be left to wander alone. “It’s okay. We’re almost there.” I said, “Where do you live?”

“Wha? Where do I…?” Her head drooped back down, as did the rest of her. She sounded like she fell asleep again. Great. Now how was I supposed to know where to go? I hadn’t memorized every street in Ponyville, however few there may have been. Even if I did know them, I had no idea which street she lived on, let alone her house. With no other option, I settled for just getting to Ponyville first. I’d figure out where to leave her later. Suddenly, without moving her head up, Sweetie Belle spoke,

“I live on the east end of Maple St... Number 4.”

I nodded. We continued to Ponyville, with my new destination in mind. After a long pause, she whispered, “Dexter?”

“Yes?” I replied.

“I’m sorry.”

I was confused. “Sorry for what?”

“For running away. For making you come find me. For probably worrying Rarity and my family sick…”

Here we go. This was going to be a deep emotion filled conversation, I could tell. I prepared as best I could, and gave what I believed to be the proper answer to this young girl. “I’m fine.” I said calmly, “I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.”

"Still, it's not your fault you had to get dragged into this," She went quiet again, then said, “I just… Everything is so different now. Ever since Scootaloo moved to Cloudsdale and AppleBloom began working on, on the farm more…I’ve just been really lonely." She added a sniffle to make her point. "Rainy Day was the only bright part of my day. When Rarity told me she was…” She paused and began sniffling. I hoped she wouldn't blow her nose into my coat. It’s a matter of personal hygiene.

After some tears, Sweetie Belle continued, “I didn’t believe her at first. I didn't want to believe anything. Then I just didn’t want anything at all. I just wanted to get away. So I ran... From everything, from everypony. I felt like…like there was nothing left.”

My gears slowly shifted. I turned from my usual cold and mechanical observant mode, to a more sympathetic one. “I know what it’s like to lose a loved one.” That was a half lie. I have lost what I guess were ‘loved’ ones, but I never felt anything like what normal ponies would. I still knew what to say. “It's hard to believe at first. You can't imagine a world without them. But you have to be strong. You morn, yes... then you move on. Be strong. For you. For everybody.”

When I was a kid, I used to listen to an old police radio show All Points Bulletin. With my father being a cop, and sister's adamant interest of becoming a cop, we ended up listening to it a lot. In one episode, they had to interrogate a mourning widow. The main character spoke these exact words to her. When I first heard them, they struck me as odd as I had no idea ponies felt anything when people died. I certainly didn’t. At least, when they weren’t ones that died by my hooves.

“Ok Dexter,” she mumbled as she fell back unconscious.

We reached the outskirts of Ponyville in silence. There was nothing to say. My familiar stoic attitude only hardened when this poor filly poured her heart to me. It still surprised me. I was a total stranger to her. For all she knew, I was kidnapping her. Not that I would. She is only a child, after all.

A poor little lonely child.

It had been a busy night: the close call at Sky Burster’s, the interruption by Rarity, my journey into the Everfree, fighting a Timberwolf and carrying a sleepy filly on my back through the desolate streets of Ponyville. So I was a little more than glad when I tiredly walked up to the front gate of Number 4 on Maple Street. As I picked up the latch in my mouth, I heard someone calling from the house.

“Sweetie Belle? Oh mah goodness, Sweetie Belle!”

A crazily dressed mare with large hair burst out of the front door. I stepped back front the gate just in time for the mare to fling it open herself. In one quick swoop, she grabbed the body off of my sore back and squeezed the ever-loving hell out of it. I stood there like the brave little solider I was as the mare stroked Sweetie Belle’s curly pink hair. Tears streamed down her cheeks, falling and rolling around her gigantic smile. Her already ruined mascara and puffy red eyes indicated she had already been crying for a while. The woman continually whispered, “Thank you, thank you, thank you…”

I heard another noise and looked up. Standing in the doorway of the house was another pony; a stallion this time. He had a similar fashion sense to the mare, in that he wore a gigantic straw hat and a floral shirt. However, he acted calmer than the mare, taking his time to walk up to the scene unfolding. He smiled at me. He opened his mustached mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He settled on patting my shoulder with his hoof. I smiled and nodded. I could tell he was trying hard, but failing, to hold back tears of his own. He was so weak.

“Lookit, it’s Dex!”

“Hey, wow.”

“Well I’ll be. He found her!”

This already growing scene became absolutely crowded as another five ponies entered onto it. It was Rarity and her group of the Elements of Harmony. Rarity immediately ran up and joined in the group hug that I had apparently missed had formed. In the light of Ponyville, I saw all four ponies clearly. Each was a white unicorn, and each had some variation of a purple-ish mane. Only then, did I just realize the importance of what I had done.

Sweetie Belle awoke, and she was crying again. She sobbed in between her explanation of why she nearly died. Her parents simply told her to “Hush now.” and that “Everything will be alright.” Rarity broke away from them to look at me. She had just as much water leaking from her eyeballs as everybody else. Stepping forward, towards me, she flashed me her teeth. Suddenly, she jumped at me. She swung her arms out and around me. Her hooves dug into the back of my neck. She squeezed me viciously, like she was trying to kill me. But she wasn’t.

She was hugging me.

“Thank you, Dexter,” she whispered in my ear, “I knew you’d do the right thing.”

I stood still, unable to properly respond for a second. I had never preferred the physical intimate touch of ponies, and I try to avoid it any time I can. So the longer Rarity held me, the longer I became uncomfortable. This whole situation was uncomfortable for me and my Passenger. But I made due and lamely hugged her back.

Rarity finally released me from her iron vice of a hug and went back to console her sister. That mare was surprisingly strong. Turning away from this cliché happy family, I came face to face with Rarity’s entourage. I recognized Twilight Sparkle, Applejack and Pinkie Pie. But the fourth mare, the blue pegasus was a mystery. I had no clue who she was. They were all smiling at the heart warming scene. My chest stay cold and empty as the purple unicorn walked up to me.

“So you found her.” said Twilight Sparkle.

I glanced at the group of white unicorns again. “Yeah. Looks like I did.”

She looked and chuckled a bit. "I can't believe... I mean, of all the places of the Everfree, you actually went and..."

What could I say? That the Darkness had bonded with me and I was fueled by my dark passion. Even I didn't believe that. I went with, "Just got lucky I suppose." and shrugged.

"I suppose..." Twilight paused and looked back to her group of friends. “Rarity had just gathered us together.” she said, “After you left, she thought about how you didn’t seem interesting in helping and though you went home. She rounded us all up and we were going to look ourselves, when Rainbow saw you walking over here. ”

I gave her my best look of disbelief. “Of course I would help out. I couldn't leave a little kid alone in the woods at night.”

Twilight looked at me funny for a second then said, “Little kid. Right.” She smirked. “Well, good to know you’ll always be around to save the day.”

“Wahoo!” Pinkie cheered, then immediately began to cry. “I’m so happy. You’re a hero, Dexter! First thing tomorrow, I’m throwing you a big party!” Everybody else agreed and flashed more teeth at me.

So there we were. Dexter, the new hero of Ponyville, had just reunited a family. Sweetie Belle was back home safe and sound and the wise words of Dexter would keep her going strong through this tragedy. Everybody was happy and felt warm and fuzzy inside. Everyone liked me and thought I was a great guy. Despite it not going according to plan, the night went well. Then, why did I feel empty?

Of course, I always feel empty inside. I can’t feel anything else. But this was something different. Everybody saw me as a hero. I should have some kind of satisfaction or at least a little sense of accomplishment at the completion to this story. All I saw was a lack of accomplishment. The night was in ruin. Sure, it had resulted in my discovery of the Everfree forest, and I saved a kid’s life, but my prey had escaped and I still had no conclusive proof to satisfy the code. It was a moral victory. It was barely a victory. A useless gesture to both me and my Passenger.

The Need would go hungry yet another night.

I came into work with a bittersweet taste of humility and depravity still clinging to inside my mouth. Maybe I could wash it out later with a dandelion sandwich. I expected the whole floor to be abuzz with the news of Dashingly Daring Dexter’s heroic actions. But there was nothing different from yesterday. Everyone in the office looked either half asleep or completely asleep. Some of them, when I passed, turned expectantly in my direction. Seeing I had no donuts to sacrifice to the hungry tribe of the homicide police force, they turned back away uninterested. Yes. Look the other way. Away from this monster’s business.

I was running through my report of the Rainy Day case with just as much apathy as any other, when a familiar face appeared in the doorway.

“Dexter?”

It was a question, but it sounded like a command. The voice was feminine, yet had an air of an official quality that made you want to stand at attention and say Yes Ma’am! I restrained myself oh so hard from doing so and settled for turning to give her my attention. Lieutenant Tracy Spectra graced me with her appearance. Her face was completely the opposite of what she had been in front of the cameras. Instead of her rather warm smile, her mouth was a solid line. Today, she was all business.

“This is Tom.” She stepped to the side to reveal the goofy, wide eyed young buck from yesterday. He smiled generously. It was a stark contrast to Spectra’s stone cold expression.

“We’ve met.” I said.

Ignoring me, she went straight to the point, “As you know, you are here to teach. Tom will assist you until your four week period is up. You are to teach him everything he needs in order to independently do…” She paused uncharacteristically. “Whatever it is you do.”

And on that, she immediately turned on her heels, which is mighty difficult to do when you have four of them, and walked away. “Do not let me down.”

Don’t go. Please don’t leave me alone with him.

Tom enthusiastically gave a salute. “Yes Ma’am!” When she was out of sight, he spun around. He bowed low at me. “Sensei Dexter-san. Show me the path of blood.”

My eyebrows were permanently scrunched together. What on earth was I getting myself into? “Okay…” I said slowly. “I was just doing the report on the Rainy Day murder.”

Tom jumped into the chair next to mine. He spun around twice. My hoof prevented the third spin.

“Have you ever written one of these before?” I asked.

“Nope.” He pronounced proudly.

I’ve never been a teacher before, but I’m fairly certain that knowing next to nothing about the subject at hand is not a good way to start things. Then again, that never stopped my father from teaching me everything I needed to learn. I sighed. Back to the basics, I suppose. I spent the next while explaining everything about what was expected from forensics techs. I covered all the important details, at least the ones important right now.

“So, yeah. The rest is pretty much self-explanatory. You were at the crime scene, so you already know most of the evidence. Here.” I passed him a blank copy of the blood paperwork. “Write up this and then let me see when you’re done.”

“Alright. I’ll do my best!”

He grabbed the folder out of my hooves, bit a pen between his teeth and furiously began to write. I glanced over his shoulder and saw despite his gusto, his penmanship was incredibly neat and clean, a feat, which in itself was not noteworthy, I did in fact take note of. I classified my note ‘odd’ due to the fact that I knew Tom had a horn. He was also very strong with magic, specifically levitation. I hesitated to begin a conversation with Tom, but luckily for me, a saving grace in the form of a yellow pony in a fedora.

“Dex, Tom. Load up. New blood on Carousel drive.” he called with a grin.

Tom wore a smile that could give Pinkie Pie a run for her cupcake money. “Wow! Another one. And so soon, too. I hope there’s going to be a lot of murders. I wanna learn everything I can.”

Letting that one slip by, I was simply glad to be getting out to another scene. I reached over and grabbed my bag. Tom did the same. I looked over and noticed his bag was the same brand as mine. The exact same make too. It was identical. He just turned to me and smiled.

What the hell had I gotten myself into?

Carousel Avenue wasn’t too far from the precinct, so Tom offered that we walk. Well, gallop would be the more appropriate term, as I huffed and panted to keep up behind the surprisingly spry and agile unicorn. I felt weird walking to a crime scene. I always got a ride, or drove myself. In such a small place as Ponyville, walking would have to become the norm now.

Carousel Avenue. That name should have rung bells in my head. There should have been lights and sirens flashing and buzzing around inside Dexter’s noggin. But they all left unplugged, as the strain of keeping my mask working at full power near Tom took all the power. Not to mention the running. It was only when Tom finally stopped running, did something finally tip me off. And how should it be, that it was Tom.

“Hey, Dex. I hear this place is great. We should grab a bite after.”

I came to a stop and took a second to breathe before I looked at what he was pointing at. He was pointing up to a café down the street. I stared at the cafe. My head tilted right and my brain finally kick-started. My head snapped to the right, and looked down to the end of the street. The familiar red and blue lights of police wagons flashing did nothing to hide they were indeed surrounding the same house. All the buzzers went off at once.

I wanted to run. Run as fast as I could possibly run. Not away, mind you, but towards the scene. If this was indeed what I thought it was, I could be in a lot of trouble. So I briskly walked, keeping composure. Arriving in a density of officers and yellow tape, my worst fear was realized that the house was indeed the one.

Finding the closest officer, I calmly asked, “What’s the situation?”

He just slowly shook his head from side to side, blowing out a deep breath through his nostrils. He nodded towards the house. “See fer yerself.”

The front door was open. Stepping inside, I noticed cones and plastic covering the floor to prevent anyone from stepping on the evidence. And what evidence it was: beginning from the front door, a thick red line ran across the floor, into the center of the room. It turned at a 90 degree angle to the right, and continued onward, all the way to the wall. But it didn’t stop there; my eyes continued to follow the line up the wall all the way to the ceiling. My eyes widened. My eyebrows climbed my forehead. I stared for what seemed like eons at the most interesting thing I had yet seen in Ponyville. I just continue to stare, everything else fading away. My mouth was a gape, ready to speak, but of course nothing came out of it, so I shut it. There really was nothing to say.

Strung up from the ceiling, dangling just above the fireplace mantle, was a bright green pair of severed pegasus wings, the edges encrusted in dried blood. Taped to the right wing was a small note, proudly displaying the words: FOR YOU