I had just entered my office. A nice and sunny day had been predicted, I guess this wasn't for me. As much as I may commonly enjoy the sunny days up here in Cloudsdale, but there are things I couldn't prepare for, things that ruins a perfectly fine day. I was about to have this thrown in my face and down my throat.

My job is commonly easy. I just sit and wait for the next Mare or Stallion who had a tough break. Nothing serious or fundamental, just heart breaking on the poor Pony's side. I could usually slip out of it as I close the door to my office at the end of the day.

Not that I am the heartless Mare, or anything, I am just not paid to bring home the trouble of other Ponies. If I go down for every little problem of others, what help would I be to them?

Sadly, this is a very different day. I was rudely awakened from my daydream, known as reality. I could see her from miles away, not that I was gracing the sky with my undivided attention.

“Welcome to my office!” I just spoke as she planted her hooves on the cloud, mere few yards from me.

I knew this was serious from the demeanor and the wobbling flight, you get to learn to recognise the signs in this line of work.

“Thanks, I need to be welcome, where I don't need to see anything or care!” she responded with a weak voice, as if she did not quite dare to say, what she had on her mind.

“Since every Pony is welcome at my office, so are you. What ever hold you down, I am here to help. It is what I am paid for!” I returned.

“Paid for, yes. The pay I will get for this day's work will never cover the horrors of what I had to see. I was supposed to pick up two fillies for a day at school, but what I saw, isn't something meant for eyes of mere civilians like us. Why did this have to hit my shoulders?” she moaned.

“We are all paid to do our job. The jobs we were supposed to do. Apparently, the pay isn't the best reason to take the job, if it wasn't right for you. Sounds as if you saw something bloody awful today!” I responded.

“On days like thins, I am thankful for the fact that my life is short, as opposed to Celestia, who had to exile her very own sister!” I thought, never uttering a sound.

“Guess I can as well explain it. Trying my best to get the bloody images off of my chest, right? You are paid for it, but at least, you don't have to see the scene I just left!” he explained.

“Wait, when you said bloody images, you are not using colourful imagery, you do mean this in a literary sense, right? Just to make it clear what we are talking about!” I enquired.

“To be perfectly clear, both are correct, there was a bloody mess. Since I am supposed to be blunt with you here, for you to do your job. Besides, I guess I don't need to worry about any delicate details leaking out to the press, while I explain my problem and what I just saw!” he clarified.

“If it was a bloody mess at the scene, it is a gore feast. Now I can see clearly, why you are so upset. I sure would have been, if I had been in your place. If you could detail what we are looking at? Any Pony to go in there to finish this will have to be prepared for what they are getting into, from what I can see. I don't want to see another Pony coming in here, because of what you saw, if I could help. Yet, it has to be dealt with and cleaned up, sooner, rather than later!” I put forth.

“Well, two missing foals sounds innocent enough for the regular Pony, if this had been all there was to it. I would have loved to find them home sick, but very much alive. Even if I had contracted whatever they came down with and forced me to stay home in a week's misery, because of it. That would have been a clean and pleasant scene I could leave without any nightmares!” he continued.

“Then you mean to say that the foals were dead? I can see how that would be upsetting. Just that something tells me that this isn't the end of what you saw there?” I urged him forwards.

“I don't exactly like to see dead Ponies. Corpses are uncomfortably reminding us of what is to come. Yet, these were murder victims, not mere corpses of once living Ponies. There is a very sick mind behind this. There is possibly a message spelled out in the few details carefully laid out in the home of these Ponies!” he stammered in pain, thinking back at what he so recently had stumbled upon.

“A message? Now you are scaring me, seriously. Do you mean to say that this is a message board to the murderer, whatever the message is? I guess I could see a murder as a message and a warning to some Pony you were an enemy off, from a strictly business psychological stance!” I pondered.

“The entire family had had their wings surgically removed, for lack of better expressions. From what I saw, the wings had had every feather plucked, in order to extract the feathers for pillow stuffing, then the remainder of the wings had been used to simulate a pregnancy of the mare of the family. Each and every Pony left bleeding in their respective beds. Dead or dying?” he whispered, as if just pronouncing the words could bring forth more pain and suffering, if not to himself, then to me or other Ponies.

“That is indeed a horror to behold, I am pressed to agree. What could possibly drive any Pony to perform such acts against fellow Ponies?” I responded in a weaker voice.

“They taught us in school, Ponies were incapable of such acts. Even if they never mentioned this in particular, to just carve out a message in living or dead Ponies?” he continued.

“To surgically remove the wings of a Pegasus? You don't suggest that this is a surgeon's work, right? If not, how could a Pony remove the wings with such accuracy? If it was a surgeon, what brought her or him down to such a level as to actually do this? Plucking feathers to stuff pillows, but killing Ponies in order to do it?” I pondered in horror.

“This kind of questions are indeed abhorrent. Why are we even considering it? Who could possibly push us this far into this line of inquiries?” he continued.

“I will have to send you to a psychologist. Furthermore, I will have to alert the authorities of what has transpired at the scene of this crime. Both to protect the once who would otherwise stumble across the scene, and for the good of the investigation of the crimes committed there!” I complained.

“Then you take the responsibility of the investigation off of my shoulders? Thanks. If you know of a Psychologist better suited to help me, I guess I am grateful for that too. Can I go home, or would you give me a recommendation right now? Someone to talk to, I hope!” he suggested.

“Right now, I would tell you to see Helping Hoof, the receptionist can give you the directions!” I responded.

“Ah, thanks!” he uttered.

“I hope she can help you with the immediate worries and ward the worst of your nightmares. She will send you on, if need be!” I stated as he left my office.

Author's Note

Pinkie Pie's POV

Blooblood's Guard's POV

The Prosecutor's POV

The Social Worker's POV

The Counselor's POV

Pinkie Pie's POV

Pinkie Pie's POV