My Little Serial Killer: Murder is Magic

by TheGentlemanCreeper

Rating: teen
Tags: Tragedy, Profanity, Scootaloo, Violence, Pinkie Pie, Sex, Death, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Romance, Original Character
Length: 76972

Dear Daymos' descent into different shades of grey and the ponies in his life.

Meet Daymos. He's just like any other pony in Ponyville.

He works.

He plays.

He has bodies in his basement.

Okay, maybe he's not like any other pony.

But he's only trying to help.

He's a killer with a conscience and murderer with morals.

So if you end up on his table... You probably deserve what's coming.

Author's Note: Okay, this is going to take a while... I have a HUGE story planned for this thing and it's going to take a while to write it all. But I feel like if I write like 3000+ words a week, I can make some headway on it. Now, about the story. It's not exactly a crossover; it's more of an 'inspired by'. One day, I started wondering how a Dexter-esque pony would play out and this spawned. I wanted to submit it to Equestria Daily... But I kept feeling like their requirements were so arbitrary and restricting. I almost dropped it because of all the tiny little nitpicks. So, here you are. Unabridged, unabashed, unedited. Enjoy.

Published 2011-11-02 02:34:59 UTC
Last updated 2020-11-03 02:08:45 UTC

Chapter 1: Routine

There are a few things I genuinely enjoy in this world.

Quiet Sunday afternoons in my study…

The taste of a freshly baked chocolate donut…

And waking up to the feeling of the morning sun on my face.

Rolling over to my side, I glanced at my alarm clock and let out a ragged sigh. I didn’t need to be up for work in another three hours. I should scratch that last item off my list of things I enjoy and replace it with “a good night’s sleep.” Reaching out, I turned off my alarm clock before getting out of the cozy comfort of my bed. Swinging around, I cursed my late-night endeavors and started to walk towards the bathroom.

The house was tranquil, save for the sound of my hooves as they went clip-clop across the linoleum floor.

I like linoleum. It’s so much easier to clean than carpet.

I opened the solid white door and walked into the equally sparkling-white bathroom. The bathroom is the cleanest room in the house. Well, at my house at least. I go to great pains to make sure the entire building is spotless.

Cleanliness is next to godliness, after all.

I emptied my bladder before meandering over to the mirror and gave myself a once over. My brown mane was disheveled and knotted from last night’s tossing and turning, while my white coat was quite pristine. Its pure sheen should have given me some modicum of comfort.

But it didn’t.

Because of the red splatters going across my face, from the top of my ear to the bottom of my mouth.

“Dear Celestia, I must have been really out of it last night if I went to bed without noticing that…”

Hello.

My name is Daymos.

And I’m a serial killer.

Not the bad kind of serial killer, mind you. I only get rid of the ponies that truly deserve what’s coming to them. I make sure they never do their dark deeds again and sweep them under the carpet, so society never has to worry about them again. As I stepped into the shower, I recalled the events of the night before, and I smiled ear to ear as I reveled in those lovely moments.

* * *

The night means a lot to ponies.

A time to sleep.

A time to play.

For me, it means something different.

A time to work.

My job isn’t as fancy as the rest of the ponies out there. I don’t bake, or run a library, or even own a store. Oh no, that’s far too boring and not worthy of my particular skill set. I’m a sort of cleaner. I get rid of all the trash that nobody pays any mind. I can’t wrap my brain around it, though. Every day, they walk with it. They talk with it. They touch it. And yet they are completely blind to what they are. It’s like they don’t — or can’t — notice the scum around them every day. So in comes dear, diligent Daymos to do what he does best.

Clean.

And that’s just what I did that night.

Nopony knew (or cared to acknowledge) that there was a stalker in our midst. He had been peeping in windows and watching mares as they dress and undress, lusting after their form. Personally, I’ve never been able to figure out what’s so great about sex. It’s just two pony’s bodily fluids mixing as they pant and sweat and curse, and it’s all just...

Unclean.

But such an unclean act didn’t deter this dirty dog. One mare, in particular, had caught his eye that night: the owner of the Carousel Boutique. I forget her name, but she’s quite a skilled designer.

I have an apron she made me that never stains, no matter how much blood gets on it. I love that apron, and how it feels against my coat.

But back to the stalker.

Every night, just like clockwork, he would sneak in through the front door, via the key in the fake rock by the planter.

It never ceases to amaze me how far people will go to make themselves feel safe; everything from putting heavy-duty locks on their door, to carrying a switchblade while prowling an unsuspecting mare’s home.

It’s also amazing how easy these things fail to help you when you don’t implement them correctly. Like hiding your key in a fake rock so anyone can get in your house. Or not watching your back while somepony watches you sneak through someone else’s home.

Once in, he would put his hooves on everything he could find. I’ve watched him root around dresser drawers for undergarments and other lacy things, only to put his nose right in them and breathe deeply.

Disgusting.

Last night, he made his move.

But I was there waiting.

Because I knew.

Other than cleaning, I have another unique talent: Watching. I’m very good at it and can notice the little details that no-one else sees. So, while I was enjoying a nice little lunch at the local café, I watched. I saw a mare trying to hide a horrible hangover from her friends as they enjoyed themselves. I saw a gruff stallion raise his hoof to get the check, only to have his girlfriend flinch in fear.

And then I saw what I was looking for.

The dirty dog was eating his lunch, trying to act as normal as possible. But I could see it in his eyes. Something lurked behind that mask of normalcy, and when it slipped, I saw what no one else did.

It was the way he looked at the waiter as she came over with his check. He looked at her the same way a hydra would regard a pony.

He was hungry.

A hunger filled him that was so strong, no amount of soup or salad or pastries could fill it.

He needed something more.

I had to confirm my suspicions, however. I’m a neat and tidy monster who likes to leave no stone unturned. And do you realize how much trouble I could get in if I cleaned an innocent pony?

I needed proof.

Luckily, I have a friend on the force. It’s odd, though. I didn’t even try to befriend him. He was on vacation, visiting his brother here in Ponyville, and he required my services.

No, not those services. He spilled some expensive wine on an equally expensive suit and needed a professional to ensure it would look just like the day he bought it.

But can you imagine? A police-issued pass to do whatever my dark heart desired... Cleaning without a care in the world... A stallion can dream, can’t he?

I sent a letter via dragon to his desk at the Canterlot Police Department about how worried I was of home robberies and burglaries in the area. When I asked him if there was anything like that going on in his neck of the woods, he was more than happy to tell me all I needed to know.

I like Windsor and all, but he can be quite the jabber-mouth. All you need to do is ask him how his day was, and he’ll give you his autobiography and notarize it to boot... and that’s why I’m his friend. Because all I have to do is ask, and he tells.

He said that a serial rapist was arrested but somehow managed to escape by picking the lock on his cell with a bobby pin. Sure, I was impressed by the ingenuity, but I was disappointed by his track record.

All of his victims were tied up and raped for what police deduced were hours. And once he was done, he would slash their throat with whatever he could find in the house. Sometimes it took hours for the victims to bleed out.

Messy.

Brutal.

Unclean.

He went onto say that every victim was single and very good looking.

Just like the owner of the Carousel Boutique.

And when I asked what he looked like, he gave me a complete description: medium height, medium build, gray coat, brown mane, open padlock cutie mark.

And wouldn’t you know it? I was staring at the pony, fitting the description right that second, opening the door to what he thought was his latest score.

But he didn’t know.

He didn’t see.

He had no idea.

He was next. He was going to be cleaned and swept under the carpet.

And there I was, patiently waiting in the back of the Carousel Boutique, knife at the ready, waiting.

Luckily, the owner of that fine establishment had business to attend elsewhere and was out of town. That didn’t stop the prowler—not me, the other one—from making his way into the shop, hoping to find what he thought was a distracted young mare, hoof deep in intense work.

And why did he think this?

Because he couldn’t resist the little trap I set.

When the waiter of the Cafe came to my table with the check, I may or may not have said — rather loudly — that I wanted to get a new apron, but the owner of the Carousel Boutique was locked tight in her shop; busy with a large order and would be up all night. I went onto say that she was so busy, that she didn’t even notice when I wandered into her shop.

He took the bait: hook, line, and sinker.

His eyes darted around the pitch-black abyss before him before he moved slowly and carefully across the showroom floor. I did my best not to scoff aloud. He was an amateur. He may have known how to pick a lock, but he didn’t know the first thing about moving silently. His hoof-falls were loud enough that anyone in the building could hear him and get help before he even got half-way across the showroom floor. He continued to wander around the boutique before stopping and staring at the light at the top of the stairs.

A light I left on, just for him.

He started to walk past me Dear Celestia, he smelled filthy and didn’t seem to notice the glint of metal that shined right behind him.

The blade came down in one fluid motion.

His life ended right there at the base of the stairs.

Neat.

Clean.

Tidy.

He didn’t even have time to ask himself, ‘What happened?’

I reached out and grabbed hold of the pull cord of a nearby lamp to get a better look at my work.

There he lies, his face frozen in a mix of confusion and fright. It almost looked like he realized what just happened when he hit the floor. I knew just where to cut, so the blood pooled inside his body, not the floor. This made clean up a breeze. I grabbed a part of my apron and ran my blade through to get the blood off. Feeling self-indulgent, I gave the knife a little flourish as I cleaned it.

That’s where the blood splatter must have come from.

* * *

Pouring myself a bowl of cereal, I mulled over the fact that good body disposal is such a difficult thing to come by here in Ponyville. The graveyard was a prime choice at first, but it’s far too open, and ponies take notice when a fresh grave-plot had been dug. I was tempted to give up and just chuck the bodies in the lake, but I’m better than that and smart enough to figure out my own way.

The basement.

While it seems like a horrible choice, being so close to me and could even risk implicating me one day if I was ever arrested, it’s the only choice I’ve got. It’s quite spacious, has enough room for years of future projects, and the only way you could hear the digging is if you were sitting right in my living room.

Not only that, but it was nice knowing I could visit my trophies anytime I wanted.

With the last of my meager breakfast finished, I went over my mental list for the day.

I need to deliver that refurbished candelabra to that unicorn over at the library and then pay a visit to the Carousel Boutique and see if I can get a pair of fore-boots and a face mask, so I don’t get so much blood on me next time.

I figured the best use of my free time would be spent hitting up Sugarcube Corner for some baked goods.

You know, for a job well done, and to celebrate last night’s accomplishment.

I like Sugarcube Corner. It’s such a bright and colorful place.

And it’s always clean.

I’m a frequent customer of Sugarcube Corner and know the ponies who work there on a first-name basis. They all know me, simply because of my eating habits: A fresh cup of coffee and a chocolate doughnut.

I usually get the same thing every day, but today, I felt like enjoying myself. I grab my wallet before I make my way out the door and into the streets of Ponyville, just as its citizens began to wake.

These warm summers’ morning is a welcome reprieve from my stuffy basement…

The street was just barely illuminated by Celestia’s rising sun, and almost every light was turned off as the ponies inside tried to get a few more winks.

Almost all the lights.

Sugarcube Corner was one of the first shops to open and last to close, another reason why I like it. There was only one thing that got on my nerves when I came to get my morning doughnut. All I could hope for was the door opening quietly enough, so she didn’t hear.

Ding-Ding!

I winced at the sound of the new bell above the door. In the back of the kitchen, I could already hear her telltale gasp, followed by an excited squeal. I put on my best smile and walk up to the front of the counter as she comes bounding towards me.

Pinkie Pie.

She was such an oddity, not only to me but the other residents of Ponyville. She’s always happy and always laughing, even when there was no reason behind it. Her good mood was contagious, somehow, and I always felt a little more delighted to see her.

But I hated how she always greeted me.

I braced myself for what was going to happen next. Here she comes, running towards me at full gallop. In one swift and fluid movement, she wraps her hooves around my neck and hugs me tightly.

I hate being touched.

Her body was warm and sweaty against my own clean and tidy coat. I could even feel some of the flour she must have spilled on herself from the morning baking. Slowly, I pulled away from her embrace and resisted shuddering while I carefully wiped myself off.

“Hiya Daymos! How’s my favorite stallion doing?” Pinkie asked, half-giggling.

I have this odd talent for attracting friends, even when I never ask for them. All I had to do to become Windsor’s friend was just to listen. For Pinkie, it was just to talk. She admitted that she loved to talk and have somepony to talk to, but because she had to get up early, she was ‘all by her lonesome.’

Her words, not mine.

And talking with her was a welcome exchange for my daily sugar fix. I cleared my throat and adjusted the mask before finally speaking.

“Hello, Ms. Pie. I’m doing quite well. How are you?”

How good it was to have my mask back on.

My second skin.

I’ve learned over the years that ponies are far less likely to pay attention to you if you smile and act politely and ask them how their day was and other meaningless things like that. You see, this is my secret to being such the productive monster that I am. When you show interest in them, they think you care about them. In turn, they care about you. And it’s always nice to have a few good character witnesses.

Just in case.

“Oh, I’m super!” the overly bombastic mare cried, “I just woke up like an hour ago and started baking and made a pot of coffee! Want some?”

I reached into my wallet and withdrew two bits to place on the table, “That would be lovely, thank you. May I also get the usual?”

Pinkie frowned as she hopped over to the coffeepot. “Oh, come on, Daymos! Every day it’s the same thing! Why don’t you mix it up and try something different! We got bear claws, danishes, éclairs—”

I raised a hoof to stop her from going further. “No, it’s alright. I’m quite content with my chocolate doughnut for now.”

She lifted her shoulders in a small half-shrug and set the cup of coffee down on the counter.

“Okie Dokie Lokie! The doughnuts will be ready in just a teensy-bit. I just threw them into the fryer.”

While Pinkie Pie’s overly ecstatic personality was an odd juxtaposition to my own somber self, I couldn’t help but actually like her.

Maybe it’s just nice to hear someone laugh around you, instead of scream.

Making my way for one of the nearby booths, I sit myself down and reach for the morning paper. I stop for a moment and ponder the headline.

LOCAL MARE FOUND DEAD IN BATHTUB

Could it be? Did I get to sweep another lowly soul under the carpet, not even day after my latest escapade?

Sadly, no.

As I dived into the article, I quickly realized that it wasn’t a murder, but a suicide. A mare on the weather patrol by the name of Honeysuckle had slashed her wrists and bled out. I couldn’t help but be a little saddened.

The kind of trash I clean is few and far between here in Ponyville, if not nonexistent at times.

Not like Manehattan...

Such a beautiful city...

But alas, my services were not required. There was literally nothing I could do; a pony died, and there was no one to blame.

Pinkie set the plate down on the table, jarring me out of my thoughts. Her smile was quickly dashed and replaced with a deep frown as she stared at the headline.

“Oh no… That’s just terrible…” she said, sadly. “I can’t believe she’s gone…”

“Did you know her?”

Pinkie took a seat across from me and nodded somberly, lacking her usual vigor. “Well… sorta. She was quiet and kept to herself. I tried to make friends with her, but she just sort of ran away... I just can’t believe she’d...”

I wasn’t as shaken as Pinkie was, but I did my best to act like it was getting to me.

“Yes, it is pretty sad.” Grief is one of the harder things for me to fake.

“Why would she do that? I mean, why would anyone...”

I scanned the article to look for the right piece of information to help answer that question. “Well, I’m sure the suicide letter wo—”

This, I did not expect. There was no mention of any suicide letter of any kind.

“The suicide letter...”

This made no sense. A young mare killed herself in such a dramatic fashion, yet leaves no note behind?

Pinkie pushed my shoulder as I started to stare off into the distance. “Are you okay?” she asked, with overtones of worry.

“Yes, I’m fine,” I nodded quickly. “Just... thinking.”

An awkward silence filled the air as I wracked my brain for some sort of answer to this question: What about the note — or lack thereof, rather?

The sound of sniffling broke my concentration just then and forced me to pay attention to Pinkie once more. She was wiping tears out of her eyes as she looked at the picture of Honeysuckle on the front page, still alive and still smiling.

I reached out, tentatively, and put a hoof on her shoulder. “It’s... It’s going to be okay.”

“I know... It’s just... What if she... What if she did what she did because she was lonely? Or sad? What if I tried harder to be her friend? Then she wouldn’t’ve—”

I grabbed hold of her shoulders before she could go any further and looked her in the eyes. “Pinkie, stop.”

She avoided my gaze: she was close to breaking down again.

“It’s not your fault. If there was something wrong, there was no way you could know. And I’m sure you would have done everything you could to help her if you did.”

I guess my words carried some weight because her tears stopped just as quickly as they started. “T-Thanks... I’m just being silly...”

Once again, she pulled me in for another hug. But I couldn’t throw her off like I wanted to. She was sad. And normal ponies comfort sad ponies...

After what feels like a lifetime, she lets go and slumps back into her seat, looking a lot less bubbly then her usual self.

As much as I wanted to just get lost in my confectionery, I knew there was something I had to do.

“Pinkie?”

“Hmm? Watch’ya need, Daymos?”

“Is there any way I could get a bag to go? I just realized I have to see someone in a little while, and I don’t want to be late.”

“Oh, sure!” She got up and started to hop towards the counter again.

“Hey, you know, Daymos... I know you’re busy all the time, but maybe you can stop by later, and we can chat? Maybe get something to eat?” she asked as she bent down and disappeared behind the counter.

I tried to think of the best way to say no. I still had a bit of trash waiting for me in my basement that needed to be ‘swept under the rug.’ If I waited any longer, it would start to rot.

“I don’t thi—”

I stop as I finally take a look at the pastry she made for me. A series of red sprinkles were arranged into a heart on the doughnut.

I don’t know what came over me when she trotted over with that bag in her mouth.

“I’d love to,” I said as I took the bag from her. “I’ll be seeing you then, Pinkie.”

A broad smile crept across her face before she let out one of her characteristic giggles. “Great! I’ll see you later, alligator!”

She was already looking like herself again.

I put the doughnut into the bag before walking out the bakery in a hurry, leaving Pinkie to get back to work while she hummed some sort of upbeat tune.

I trotted rather quickly up the street, partly to get away from Pinkie before she decided to touch me again.

But mostly because I wanted to find the house where that mare killed herself.

Something didn’t sit right in my gut.

Chapter 2: Cares

I stopped in my tracks as I saw the telltale red and blue lantern light of a police cart down the street, parked right outside of what I assumed was Honeysuckle’s former abode.

Part of me had hoped that the police finished their investigation during the night and would leave me with scraps, but I couldn’t back out now.

There had to be another way.

I made my way towards the light, musing over how the modest house looked like the very definition of ‘normal.’ It even had a white picket fence and everything.

The only thing that made it stand out from the rest was the crowd of onlookers that huddled around the yellow police tape. I ventured a guess that the ponies that get up as early as I do were either satisfying their morbid curiosity or just merely worried about their fellow pony. I stopped only for a second to quickly toss my hooves through my mane, messing up once perfectly-coiffed hair. It was a small price to pay to help the disguise. I continued walking towards the house and kept my head down, eyes to the ground — away from the police officers or anyone in the crowd. To anybody who saw me, I was just another pony, returning from a late night at work and heading home.

It was best not to draw any unwanted attention to myself.

“Oh my gosh, who killed her?”

“Listen, no one killed her, it was a suicide.”

“How can you be so sure, huh? Do you have investigators in there?!”

“Sir, either calm down, or I’m going to force you to leave.”

“But how do you know?”

“Listen, I’ll tell you what we told the reporters! She-”

“Melilot, calm down. Ma’am, I was one of the first responders, and I saw the body, and I can assure you, there are no serial killers in Ponyville.”

I did my best to stifle a laugh as I walked by.

If they only knew…

“We’ve got about another hour before the investigators finish processing the body. Then we’ve got the go-ahead to look around for any motive to the suicide.”

My ears perk up at this news.

Bingo. Just what I wanted to hear.

Without breaking stride, I ducked into one of the nearby alleyways and circled towards the backyard. With any luck, they would have forgotten to cordon it off.

You see, contrary to popular belief, the police are not omnipotent. If the police had any idea of what really happened in this town and what I did, they would probably lock me up and throw away the key.

However, they aren’t the sharpest knives in the drawer.
Ponyville doesn’t have a budget for an actual police force. Instead, they have a rag-tag group of volunteers with minimal training. They know how to write reports, rope off scenes, and arrest ponies for all sorts of misdemeanors.

But when it comes to dealing with the death of another pony? They haven’t got a clue. Fortunately, they didn’t suspect a murder. Otherwise, they would have gone into full-on panic mode.

I stuck my head out of the alleyway and looked around for any sort of guard or patrol that might have been posted back here. But no, I was right. They had forgotten to cover the back of the house, leaving it completely exposed.

Hopping the fence in one quick movement, I made my way through the jungle that Honeysuckle called a backyard.

Dear Celestia, it looks like it hasn’t seen a lawnmower in wee—

I stumbled only for a second has my hooves caught on something hidden beneath the dense lawn.

“Lousy rusted scooter…” I grumbled as I wrested myself from its clutches. Its blue paint job had spots of rust and looked like it had been there for years. After regaining my composure and tossing the scooter aside, I made my way for the back door.

My pulse picked up a bit as I got closer to the doorway. I’ve trespassed on another pony’s property many times before, but I couldn’t help but be nervous. And for a good reason: the police were waiting just outside, and either one of the ponies could catch me in the act if they were attentive enough. I grabbed hold of the doorknob and turned it slowly, making sure the hinges didn’t squeak aloud. I opened the door just a bit, enough to stick my head in and take a quick look around.

Coast is clear…

The door glided open silently as I made my way into what I guessed was the kitchen.

I should leave the door open just a bit, I think as I turned into the room, in case I need to make a quick—OH DEAR CELESTIA

I did my best not to alert my officer friends to my presence by retching.

MOLD.

I know it’s ill to speak of the dead, but in life, Honeysuckle was a filthy little filly who cared little for her well-being. I couldn’t believe how disgusting a state the kitchen was in. The mold was growing on everything. It was on the dishes, the floor, the half-eaten food...

IT.

WAS.

EVERYWHERE.
“It’s a nightmare…” I mumbled, aghast. I HATE mold. I’ve always hated anything dirty, but after reading about how certain kinds of mold can grow inside your body, I developed new-found hate for all fungus.

There was aspergillus, what looked like Stachybotrys, some Cladosporium, and enough penicillin to start a pharmacy. My first instinct kicked in, and I immediately turned around, mentally preparing a hot shower in my head, followed by a liberal application of anti-fungal cream. But that nagging feeling returned, and it stopped me from running. I needed to look around the house before the police did.

I took a deep breath and move as quickly and quietly through the biohazard Honeysuckle once called a kitchen, almost stepping on a rotten apple in the process.

“How could anyone live like this?”

The kitchen was a disaster, but the living room looked a bit more… livable, albeit dusty. A quick scan turned up nothing of importance: a coffee table with some half-eaten breakfast on it, a bookshelf with random books and magazines messily assorted, and other things that bugged my inner clean-freak to no end.

Upstairs, and then out of here… I reasoned as my search continued to turn up nothing.

Slowly, I made my way to the base of the stairs and ascended quietly, only to stop when something catches my eye: an armoire.

Experience told me that sometimes, the skeletons you’re looking for might actually be in the closet. Opening it up, I find that it’s not full of actual skeletons, but papers.

Papers and photographs.

The assorted bills and bank notices were useless to me; overdraft fees, payments due, and account statements. However, the pictures told a more interesting story.

There were at least three different ponies in the photos. I recognized Honeysuckle from the newspaper article, but the other two were new to me.

The first was a deep orange pegasus who smiled widely as he put a hoof around Honeysuckle’s shoulder. She, however, wasn’t as happy as he was and kept a more neutral tone.

The second one worried me; an orange filly with a bright purple mane that smiled as she stood on a blue scooter.

The newspaper didn’t say anything about Honeysuckle being married, let alone having a child. I distinctly remember it saying she was single.

So many things didn’t make sense today.

First, I agree to spend the time with Pinkie Pie. The time I could be using to get rid of some incriminating evidence in my basement.

Second, something about this suicide set off all my warning bells at once, and it's forcing me to risk a confrontation with the police.

Third-

*Thump*

The hair along my back stands up on end, and my mind raced with a million different questions.

Who else was here? Is it a cop? Did the police hear? What happens if I get caught? What do I tell them? Should I hide? What was that? Was it upstairs? Should I run now? Am I going to have to fight?

I tackle the most significant question and watch the front door and the shadows on the drapes for any sort of movement. I counted the seconds as I stood still as a statue, waiting for the first signs of danger.

By the thirty second mark, I realized that they probably didn’t hear whatever was upstairs over the crowd. I was lucky, but I could feel my luck running out and did not want to extend my visit any farther.

I get to the top of the stairs in a few silent bounds and found myself looking down a hallway with three doors, each with the lights on and open.

I decided to do a quick sweep around and get an idea of the second story layout.

The bathroom I inspected was obviously the one where that Honeysuckle killed herself in. The bathtub was filled to the brim with a mix of blood and water and occasionally dripped onto the tile and into the grout.

That’s going to stain… I think as I move onto the next room.

The crude crayon drawing of an orange filly with the word “Scootaloo” on the door tipped me off that this was the daughter’s room. Without it, I probably would have assumed it was a guest room. The bed was made, the floor was clean, and there were no children’s toys to speak of. Other than that, nothing was interesting or indicative of what made the noise.

Just as I begin to leave, I hear a rustling that makes me stop dead in my tracks. It was coming from underneath the bed.

I approached the bed slowly and knelt to get a better look, only to find myself face to face with the filly from the picture. She looked utterly terrified at my presence.

“Um... Hi?”

She backs up further under the bed, never taking her eyes off of me.

“Don’t be afraid, Scootaloo. My name is Daymos. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Her expression slowly softens, and she looks at me curiously. “H…How do you know my name?”

“Well, you see… I…”

Think fast.

“…I’m a good friend of your mother. She’s told me all about you.”

Her eyes narrow slightly as she looks me over.

“How do you know my mom? I’ve never seen you before.”

Clever little filly…

“I met her at the café once when she was on break. We’d talk about everything going on in the news or how her job on the weather patrol was...”

Scootaloo’s eyes began to light up just a bit. I was hitting the nail on the head.

I go for broke.

“…but the topic would usually circle back towards you. She really does love you.”

“W-Well, of course she loves me,” Scootaloo says bashfully. “She’s awesome like that.”

Finally, she gets out from underneath the bed, a little uneasy at first. She must have been under there for a long time if her legs got this cramped. Instead of trying to stand, she slumped down on her haunches and looked up to me with a worried expression painted across her face.

“They took my mom… Where did they take her?”

“You mean the investigators?” I asked.

The filly shrugs. “I don’t know… They were wearing blue and they… they carried her out in a white sheet. She wasn’t moving…” she said somberly. “What happened?”

I did my best to side-step the question and explain something else. I was not going to be the one who broke the news to her.

“Scootaloo, those were the police. They’re going to want to talk to you about what happened. I should—”

Oh no.

It just hit me. I was so worried about the filly that I didn’t think about my own skin. I couldn’t just leave her here, and on top of that, she already knew my name and face.

“What’s wrong?” Scootaloo asked as I went quiet.

I hated to drag her into my web of lies, but if I was to get out of this, I needed her help.

“You see, the police didn’t know you were here and roped off the entire area after they took your mom away. I tried to get in, but they wouldn’t, no matter what I told them. So I sort of… sneaked in. I’m just worried about what they’re going to do when they find out what I did.”

Scootaloo gives me a puzzled look. “Why did you sneak in?”

“Well… I was worried. About you,” I lie plainly.

“You were?”

“Of course I was,” I tell her as I try to help her to her hooves again. “Now, let’s go downstairs and-”

She stumbled again as she got to her feet, but this time, I noticed something; her whole body was shaking.

“I feel dizzy…” she said weakly as she began to slump back down to the floor.

Oh no. Oh no.

Acting quickly, I scoop her up and do my best to balance her on my back.

“Are you awake?” I asked loudly. Her eyes were closed, and she wasn’t moving, but she was breathing.

High school biology was all the context I needed to know what was happening to her. Pegasi have a high metabolism that gives them the energy they need to fly, which means they need to eat regularly. If they go without eating for long enough, their blood sugar gets low.

It can get so low that they can go into hypoglycemic shock.

And that’s just what happened to Scootaloo.

I couldn’t just leave her for the police to find; by then, she could go into seizures. I knew I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to her, so I barreled down the stairs and hoped for the best as I burst through the front door, startling the crowd of ponies and the police officers equally.

One of the officers jumped in front of my path and took an aggressive stance. “HOW DID-”

I ground to a halt and turned so he could see just who I was carrying. I was in no mood for twenty questions. “She has to get to a hospital! NOW!”

Everypony realized the gravity of the situation as they looked at Scootaloo’s limp body hanging on my back.

The other officer shoved his partner out of the way and motioned me forward, quickly. “OUT OF HIS WAY! GET OUT OF HIS WAY!”

The crowd of ponies parted in front of me, allowing me to make my way into the streets and towards Ponyville Urgent Care.

* * *

I pace when I’m nervous. I admit it’s a horrible habit, but I can’t break myself of it. It makes other ponies around me uneasy as I walk from one end of a room to the other, silently mouthing a conversation with myself.

The police just went to talk to Scootaloo and ask her some simple questions. You know, like what’s your name? And how are you? And who’s the stallion pacing nervously in the waiting room?

I wasn’t nervous about Scootaloo, oh no. The doctor was kind enough to inform me that she was put on a glucose drip, and she’s doing much better.

I was nervous because the police wanted to talk to me about that little stunt I pulled. I heard the series of heavy hoof-steps behind me and realized it was time.

I took a deep breath and approached the officer with a soft smile.

“Hello, officer, I’m—”

“Daymos,” he finishes for me. “I know. I’m Officer Lucky. Scootaloo said you were the one who found her.”

I nodded slowly. “Yes, I was.”

He motioned for me to take a seat, and I followed, sitting myself down right beside him.

“Now, I’m glad that the kid is doing okay, but I have to talk to you about a few things... First off, Scootaloo says you knew her mother. Is this true?”

“Yes, we were friends,” I said without hesitation.

“Good friends?”

“No, not exactly. We talked and enjoyed the other’s company.”

Officer Lucky nodded thoughtfully. “And just how did you get into the crime scene? I was there when my partner and I roped it off.”

I didn’t need to lie about this part, so I told it unabashedly. “I jumped over the fence in the yard and went in through the back door.”

“I figured that much... But why? Why didn’t you just tell someone that there was a kid inside?”

This was going to be the hard part. A good lie is like a good blanket: woven expertly and can cover everything.

“I tried to, but I guess your partner was fed up with all the questions and wouldn’t even hear me out. When I went talk to you, he stopped me and told me to leave. I needed to find Scootaloo and make sure she was okay, so I snuck in.” I paused before dealing the final blow. “I’m sorry if I’ve hindered the investigation in any way.”

Officer Lucky sighed heavily as he rubbed his brow.

“Melilot, you idiot,” he cursed under his breath. “Listen, my partner has a bit of a temper. I can see why you did what you did, and, in this case, I’m not going to have you brought up on charges,”

Thank Celestia, I thought with some measure of relief.

“But,” he added, “There is still something else we need to discuss.”

“Whatever you need, officer.”

“Good, because we have sort of a problem...” he said as he pulled a clipboard from out of his pack, “You see, Scootaloo can be released within the hour, but we can’t track down any other relatives. She has a grandmother, but she’s out of town for the next three weeks. So Scootaloo has no legal guardians to care for her at this moment.”

As he handed me the clipboard, a knot twisted itself deep in the pit of my stomach.

Awarding of Temporary Guardianship Of:

Scootaloo

To:

_______________

I immediately knew what he wanted from me.

“She’s really taken a liking to you. And I think she’d be better in your care than in an orphanage.”

Chapter 3: Decisions

For all my witty remarks, well-constructed lies, and self-proclaimed fast wit, I had nothing to say as I stared at the piece of paper before me. It was as if a weight was pressed down on me, and I had to find the magic words to make it go away.

The best I could do was stutter like an idiot.

“Umm… I, uh… As… As flattering as this is, I really don’t think I’m cut out for child care. Maybe-”

I had to stop myself from flinching away when Officer Lucky put what he thought was a comforting hoof on my shoulder. “Daymos, when I said she’d taken a liking to you, I meant it.”

Stop touching me.

“Ever since the nurse told Scootaloo how you rushed her in and demanded to see a doctor, she hasn’t stopped talking about you. Considering the circumstances, I think she’d-”

If you’re fond of that hoof, then you’ll stop touching me. NOW.

“That’s why you’re the best option we-”

“YOU’RE LYING!”

I almost jumped out of my skin when I heard that high pitched scream.

That desperate wail.

“Come on, follow me!” Officer Lucky said as he got to his hooves. I opened my mouth in protest, but he simply ran off, leaving me in the dust. Having no other choice, I got up and followed him down the hall, past the receptionist’s desk, and into the hospital room of one angry little orange filly.

“You’re lying!” She cried as she flared her wings defiantly. “There’s no way! You’re lying!”

The officer who had become my scapegoat was doing his best to calm Scootaloo down, but his words were falling on deaf ears. “Listen, I’m sorry to say this, but it’s true she’s-”

“Melilot! Just what’s going on in here?!?” Lucky cried as he burst through the doors with me — begrudgingly — on his heels.

“She kept asking me where her mother was!” he yelled defensively “I tried to dance around the question like you said, but she wouldn’t drop it!”

Well... On the bright side, his incompetence makes him an even better scapegoat than I thought.

Lucky’s face twisted in a combination of shock and anger. “You told her?”

It was Scootaloo’s turn to look shocked. “Y…You mean he’s not lying?” she asked Lucky, utterly destroyed.

Lucky ran a hoof through his mane in frustration before turning to Officer Melilot. “Get out in the hall. I have to have a few words with you.”

Melilot gave his partner a look of disgust. “You can’t-”

Lucky stepped forward with a look in his eyes. A look only I thought I had nailed down.

“Now.”

His voice dripped with malice and contempt, shaking Melilot to his very core. I could visibly see the hairs stand on the back of his neck.

I’m starting to like this cop…

“Can you please watch her for a minute?” Lucky asked as he stepped out into the hallway

Warning bells went off immediately. Kids were far from my specialty. “Actually-”

Before I could get a word in edgewise, he closed the door and left me alone with a little girl who just found out her mother was dead.

Great… What am I supposed to do?

Taking a stab in the dark (something I was actually good at), I walked towards the crumpled, weeping form on the bed and sat down next to her.

“There there…” I said as I tried my best to comfort her. “Everything is going to be okay.”

“How could it?” she asked curtly. “My mom’s dead…”

You’re not making this any easier on either of us…

“I know what you’re going through is tough, but-”

In one swift motion, Scootaloo got to her hooves and stared daggers at me through her tear-filled eyes. “How could you?!?” she yelled. “How could you know what’s it like to lose someone like that?!?”

“Well, both of my parents are dead,” I said plainly.

Scootaloo’s scowl softened as my words sunk in. “R-Really?” she asked timidly.

“Well, yeah, come to think of it. My mother died when I was around your age. So I kinda do know what you’re going through.”

Scootaloo looked up to me with those wet eyes of hers and spoke nearly above a whisper.

“H…How did they die?”

“Well... It’s kind of a long story.”

At that moment, I realized this little girl and I had something to talk about. And I didn’t have to lie.

* * *

Are you sure you want to hear this story?

“Yeah… I wanna know. Like, what they were like and stuff.”

Well… My mother and father got married after high school due to some unforeseen consequences.

“What do you mean?”

I mean, my mother was pregnant with me. So, they got married and settled down. They bought a house with a white picket fence out front, a big back yard, and a basement for my dad’s brewery.

“Brewery? What’s that?”

It meant he had a place to make his alcohol. My father’s special talent was making beer, something he was quite proud of. Unfortunately for my mother and I, brewing beer meant someone had to taste it… And that’s how my father got a taste for his own brew. It was a few years before my mother died that he started drinking more. And with his excessive drinking came those violent mood swings.

“You mean he’d get angry?”

Yeah. He’d yell — a lot. At me, at my mother, and the house plants… Anything. After all the yelling, he’d get apologetic and weepy and my mother would forgive him. But it wouldn’t last. When I was your age, my father drove my mother out of the house. She couldn’t take it anymore.

“Why would he do that?”

I don’t know. He just did. Those cruel, hurtful words he-

“What words?”

I…Uh… Grown-up words. Best not to repeat them. You’ll learn when you’re older.

“Aww…”

As I was saying… He said things to my mom and she couldn’t put up with him anymore. So in the dead of night, she left him and headed for the big city. Manehattan, to be exact. She always loved to sing, so she thought she could strike it big. Maybe be someone famous and come back for me when she could support both herself and me. At least, that’s what it said in the note she left me.

“Did she ever become famous?”

…No. But she did make it in the papers. Albeit, not in the way she envisioned. She was stabbed in an alleyway not four days into her trip. I remember answering the door and seeing that police officer on our doorstep. My father couldn’t believe what he was telling us. I could barely understand it, but I managed to piece together the fact that I wasn’t going to see my mother ever again.

“Were you sad?”

Of course. She was my mother. I had loved her with all my heart and I’d never hear her sweet voice ever again. It hurt for days. And then weeks. When months passed, it started to hurt less.

“Is… Is that how it works? Just…wait?”

You know that adage ‘time heals all wounds’?

“Yeah…”

Well, things aren’t going to be easy at first. It’ll hurt a lot. Then… Slowly… Things will get better.

“…What about… Did… Did they ever catch them?”

Who?

“The good guys. Did they get the one who hurt your mom?”

Oh, yes. Him. He stayed on the loose for quite a while. But the good guy caught up to him years later and made sure he paid for his crime.

“Oh, well, that’s nice…”

Yes… The look on his face when he was caught was priceless…

“What?”

Oh. Uh, nothing. Just thinking about his picture in the paper and how shocked he looked. Like... Like he wasn’t expecting anyone to catch him

“Oh… Um, what about… What about your dad?”

Ah… Him. I didn’t feel too bad about when he passed. While my mother’s death was tragic, my father’s was to be expected.

“What do you mean?”

My father’s drinking only got worse after my mother’s death. One day, he just… drank himself to death. I wasn’t home when it happened.

“Where were you?”

* * *

I stared at her for a few minutes, at a loss for what to say. It was as if she just asked me to tell her where babies come from. I couldn’t tell her the truth. At a loss for words a second time today, I tried my best to act nonchalant and bide for time.

“What?”

“Where were you? When your dad died, I mean.”

Quick, think of something. Something believable.

“Oh, I was spending the night at a friend’s house. We were camped out in the backyard.”

Great. You’re set as long as she doesn’t figure out you hate camping. Or didn’t have friends.

“What was it like? Finding him like that?” Scootaloo asked as she curled up to me.

“It was… sad. I mean, I was talking to him the night before and he was gone the next morning. You never-”

I stopped myself as I heard her sniffle beside me. It was then I realized I struck a nerve.

I found myself running a hoof through her mane as fresh tears started to spill. “Sorry… I’m sorry.”

Why am I not freaking out about this? I’m touching her.

“I-It’s not your fault… It’s just… Why’d she have to go? Why did it have to happen” she asked as she tried to wipe away her tears.

I let out a deep sigh and found myself stroking her mane again. “I don’t know. But when those nice police officers have an answer, they’ll tell us.”

“Yeah… You’re right.” Scootaloo said as she stifled a yawn.

“Why don’t you get some rest?” I said as I covered her up with the blanket. “I’ll wake you up later.”

Her eyelids drooped as I got off from the bed and made my way for the door. Before I could make my way out, she stopped me. “Thanks, Daymos. For everything.”

I felt a smile creep across my face as she drifted off to sleep. “You’re welcome.”

As I closed the door behind me, I ran a hoof through my mane and across my face in frustration.

“What the hell is happening to me?” I hissed under my breath.

That little filly was doing something to me, bringing out my fatherly instincts, maybe? Or… Or was I seeing myself in her?

A childhood scarred by loss.

My childhood. My fractured, twisted childhood. Thoughts and feelings twisted by grief and a gruesome discovery that changed my life forever and made me who I am today.

Oh, I will never forget that day.

The day my father died.

And I was born.

* * *

From the dingy little shed out on the outskirts of Ponyville, I stared out at the moonlit gardens.

Waiting.

It was nearing the end of the school year and I had done so well that I could afford to skip that entire day.

And I needed that time. Those flowerbeds weren’t going to unearth themselves.

But what was I doing? I asked myself that so many times in the dark. During so many shovels full of dirt, during all that planning.

In the dark of the night, I gripped the shovel tighter.

I’m waiting… I thought calmly to myself. I’m waiting for him.

Yardstick.

My teacher.

When I was Scootaloo’s age, he was the school teacher and he ruled with an iron meter stick.

A meter stick he was more than happy to hit little ponies with, or so the rumors went.

But rumors always seem to be based on some element of truth. True, he did hit ponies with that meter stick of his, but he preferred to discipline fillies instead of colts. And he’d go out of his way to make sure they got punished.

A little orange filly was the next on his list to be punished. She kept skipping school to work with her family and when Yardstick confronted her, she told him to go buck himself. A week's detention, he said.

And from what I had gathered, fillies disappear when they have detention with Mr. Yardstick...

I remember freezing when I heard his hoof steps and saw the shine of his lantern illuminate the shed.

A creature of habit… I thought with some level of relief. After following him for weeks, I was sure he would show up tonight.

I held my breath as I listened to him through the shed wall.

“Good evening, my little beauties...” he said aloud as he walked towards the flowerbeds. “And how are y-”

I felt myself smile when I heard his breath catch in his throat. He just discovered my little project. His pride and joy, those six flowerbeds he routinely talked to the class about, were dug up and empty. And he was scared.

“Nonononononono. NO!”

Listening to him stumble in the night, I urged him, pleaded him. Come on… Look harder. Find the trail of dirt.

A little mess I made just for him to get him where I want.

“Wh…What’s this?”

Bingo…

I gripped the shovel tighter as I heard his hoof steps make their way to the shed door and held my breath as I watched the door open wide, almost enough to touch my nose.

Yardstick’s lantern shone inside the shed and revealed the little macabre display I made of his trophies. He simply stared at them with a dumbstruck look on his face.

“What… What are you all doing here?” he asked in disbelief.

He ambled to the six little bodies arranged in the center of the room with each skull staring directly at him.

It took me hours to dig them all out and even longer to get all the dirt off of them.

Some were so old and decayed they… fell apart in my hooves.

“Who brought you here?” he asked aloud.

“Me.”

He turned around just in time to watch the shovelhead connect with the side of his face, knocking him out cold.

As his body slumped to the floor, I raised the shovel above my head and brought it down on his skull.

And I did it again.

And again.

After the final strike, I stood there, shaking.

I killed him, I thought shakily. I killed my teacher.

And I enjoyed it.

Sure, it was bloody and overly messy, but I had fun.

And did a good deed in the process.

I remember looking to the six tiny bodies of the fillies he had killed over the years and then to him.

This is no good… I have to clean up. Make this all disappear.

Setting to work, I gathered up my impromptu murder weapon and began the arduous task of burying the poor girls he did unspeakable things to.

Snowfall… Bubble Blower… Sweet Pea… Cherry… Sweet Pop… Cotton Cloud… That’s all of them.

I knew each of their names, thanks to Yardstick’s compulsive filing need. And lack of common sense. To think he’d just leave a diary of his exploits there in the shed, right in the drawer near the desk.

With the girls taken care of, I turned my attention to Yardstick and set upon the gruesome task before me.

“You never did like me,” I grunted as I dragged his body out of the shed. “You kept telling my parents that I needed discipline; that I needed to go to a reform school or even military school. You kept saying there was something wrong with me. Well-”

With a final heave, I pushed his body into the seventh flowerbed, just large enough for a full-grown stallion.

“You were right.”

Burying Yardstick was the easy part. It was cleaning the shed that was the challenge.

Red, sticky, awful blood was everywhere.

On the floor, on the walls, on the ceiling…

I spent hours upon hours scrubbing that shed from top to bottom, scrubbing and scouring every trace of blood. I could have stopped washing after the first few hours, but I cleaned until the sun came up. And why wouldn’t I? I was scared. Everyone in town knew Yardstick and they’d notice if he just disappeared.

I didn’t want to get caught.

Don’t get caught. I thought to myself. Rule one, don’t get caught.

I remember going home for new water and clean rags.

It was then I should have noticed my father was lying face down on the couch, but I had other things on my mind.

It wasn’t until morning that I noticed he hadn’t moved the entire night.

And that during my late-night cleaning, I had gotten my cutie mark.

To think, two important events like that, just slipping me by.

* * *

“Daymos?”

Officer Lucky’s voice snapped me out of my stroll down memory lane and brought me back into the land of the living.

“You okay? You were staring off into space for a while.” He said as he sat down next to me.

And at that moment, I realized I was back in the waiting room.

Okay, maybe I can see missing those events… I thought with some level of surprise.

“Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“Not a problem,” Lucky said as he reached into his coat. “But I hope you were thinking about what to do with Scootaloo because I need an answer.”

“What?”

“She’s going to be released soon and she doesn’t have a place to stay. It’s with you, or I’m going to have to take her to the orphanage.” He said as he produced the temporary custody papers again.

Looking at those papers again, I wondered what was so threatening about them before. Taking the documents from him, I got to my hooves and made my way back down the hall.

“Where are you going?” Lucky asked aloud.

Ignoring his questions, I made my way back into Scootaloo’s room and knocked on the door, waking her from her sleep.

“W-Wha?” She asked hazily.

“Hey. Sorry to wake you, but I have something to show.” I said as I near the foot of her bed.

Scootaloo gave me a puzzled look as I handed her the custody paper. “What’s this?”

“Well, you need a place to stay until the police can find a legal guardian to watch over you. So, what do you think?”

I couldn’t believe I was offering this to her. But there I was, offering her free reigns to my dark abode where my trophies sat beneath the floorboards.

“You mean… You mean I’d be staying with you? Like, in your house?” she asked with a puzzled look.

“Yeah. Is that okay with you?”

Scootaloo stayed quiet for a while before she started crying again.

“Hey, hey,” I said as I moved beside her. “What’s wrong? What did I do?”

“Nothin’,” she said as she shook her head. “I’m just happy.”

“So, that’s a yes, then?”

Without a single word, Scootaloo jumped forward and wrapped her hooves around my midsection.

“Yes. Thank you so much.”

I did my best to suppress a shiver of disgust from the unexpected hug. As much as I was starting to like the little filly, physical contact like this was still a no go.

“Y-You’re welcome…” I said as I tried to pry her off gently.

Why do I have a feeling I’m going to regret this?

Chapter 4: Castle

My home is my castle.

It’s where I’m in control.

It’s my place of refuge from the world.

And most importantly, it’s a place where I hide all my dark deeds from prying eyes.

“Wow! This is where you live?”

And now I have to share it with a bouncy orange filly who just couldn’t keep her filthy hooves off of anything. I was already starting to regret this decision as I watched her paw through my life, picking it apart piece by piece.

“Is this you when you were a kid?” Scootaloo asked as she held up a picture of my high school graduation. I guess she managed to pick me out because I was the only one not smiling.

“Yeah, that’s me alright,” I said with a small smile, trying my best to look like I was reminiscing. I’ve meant to throw this thing away.

In truth, I hated high school. The mere concept of highschool struck me as something a sadist would come up with. I mean really, who else would group socially awkward, hormone raging teenagers in an enclosed environment and expect them to get along?

I still wonder how I managed to graduate without killing most of my classmates.

“Ewww... What’s that smell?” Scootaloo asked suddenly, her hooves held over her nose. “It stinks!”

Looking around quickly, I tried to make sense of what she meant. My home was spotless. Clean. It didn’t stink.

“What smell? I can’t-”

My eyes fluttered as the mystery smell Scootaloo was complaining about finally hit my sensitive nose and sent me reeling, gasping for fresh air.

I did my best not to gag as I looked around my castle desperately. “Oh, sweet sisters above... Where is that coming from?” I asked myself with increasing worry.

Pointing her nose around my home, Scootaloo sniffed the air before jumping back and gagging. “Ew, ew, ew! It’s coming from the basement!” she cried out in disgust.

The hair along my back stood on edge. Something that smelt like decay was coming from my basement.

My sanctuary.

“Are you sure?” I asked as I took a whiff in the same direction.

Scootaloo nodded through teary eyes. “Yeah... What is it?” she asked as she held her nose tighter, the smell starting to really get her.

Ohh, I knew exactly what the smell was. I was unfortunate enough to have smelt that same odor after my second and third kill, having not yet to learn the proper body disposal procedures I’ve come to know today.

“Oh no...” I said rather glumly. “This is all my fault...”

Scootaloo looked up to me with a nervous frown on her face.“What? What’s wrong? What happened?”

I shook my head as I ran my hooves through my mane, acting like I was genuinely feeling guilt. "I was trying to fix my septic system a few days ago and I thought I had it. I guess a pipe broke or something and it’s leaking..."

Scootaloo nodded slowly as I explained. "Ohhh...” She blinked a few times before she finally wrapped her head around what I was getting. “Ohhh! That’s so gross!”

Walking over to my closet, I opened it up and started to rummage through it. “Scootaloo, do you mind going outside and playing for a bit?” I asked her as I pulled out what I affectionately called my ‘clean suit.’

I love my clean suit. I got it during my time training for biological clean up training while in New Colt City. I loved it because it protected me from all the nasty things I came into contact with regularly. That and it’s machine washable.

“What is that?” she asked as I slipped my back hooves into my clean suit.

I glanced over to her as I grabbed the zipper. “It’s so that I don’t get dirty while I’m down there.”

Scootaloo cocked her head to the side as she watched me slip into it. “Ohh... You really like being clean, don’t you?”

“Well, cleanliness is next to godliness,” I said with a little chuckle as I pulled the hood up. “If you do go outside, please stay in the backyard and don’t talk to any strangers.”

Scootaloo rolled her eyes as I lectured here. “Alright, alright... Geez, you sound like my-” She stops short and tears up a bit before looking around. “Umm... W...Where’s the bathroom?”

“It’s through the kitchen, down the hall, and to the right... Are you okay?” I asked as she slunk away. Her wildly swinging mood was starting to worry me. After all, it couldn’t be healthy, physically or mentally.

“Yeah... I just... I just think I need to cry a bit more...” she said as fresh tears streamed down her face.

“Then I wouldn’t recommend going in the bathroom right now if there’s something wrong with the septic. If that’s all you wanna do... Just cry... then why don’t you go up to your room?”

I was of course, referring to my guest room. Not that I had too many guests.

Well, except... You know.

“M...My room?” Scootaloo asked sheepishly. “I got a room here?”

I gave her a little nod as I pointed to the stairs. “Yes, it’s upstairs, next to my room. It’s a little plain, but we can get your things as soon as the police are done investigating.”

“Okay then... I’ll leave you to work on the uhh... septic...” Scootaloo said with a grimace as she wiped away her tears.

With a final nod, I grabbed hold of the basement door and looked up to her. “You might wanna get upstairs now, before I-”

Scootaloo scrambled up the stairs. “Yeah! Good idea!” she called out.

I listened for the guest's door to open before taking a deep breath and plunging into the dark depths of my basement. The smell was overpowering... It just didn’t smell like death; it felt like it.

Like I was being enveloped in a fog that was strangling the life out of me.

Gagging aloud, I practically jumped through the doorway and slammed the door behind me. I wanted to get this done and over with.

“Oh, goddess...” I found myself moaning out as I thundered down the stairs, looking around through teary eyes for what was making my castle reek of death.

It was then I honed in on the trash bag containing my latest kill, whom I neglected to bury the night before. Walking towards the bag, the smell became even worse.

Okay, maybe I can just bury him and use my sprays to get rid of the smell. I thought as I grabbed the bag, only to stop short as I felt the contents shift around.

The closest analogy I had to how it felt was as if you threw a bowl of soup into a shopping bag.

“...Liquid? Pony liquid? There’s no way...”

I didn’t know what to make of it. I would have been fascinated by the whole thing if it didn’t utterly terrify me.

“There’s no way...”

In all my years, I’ve never heard of a pony decaying like that. I couldn’t believe it. Part of me wanted to open the bag right there and look inside, just to find out if it really did happen, but the more sensible part of me knew what I had to do.

Picking up the bag carefully, I started to drag it over to the open grave I had all prepared for him last night but was too lazy to bury him in. Something I was now kicking myself for.

“Careful, careful, careful...” I chanted under my breath like some sort of prayer as I lowered the bag slowly, knowing one slip up could send a wave of fluid that wouldn’t come out of my coat for months.

I let out a sigh of relief as I finally felt the bag touch bottom and jumped back as I let go. “Tumbler, I must say, you have been more trouble than you were worth...” I grumbled under my breath as I grabbed my shovel. With a heavy sigh, I gathered up the first shovel full of dirt and tossed it unceremoniously into the grave as I pondered just what could cause a body that was in — almost — perfect condition to turn into soup.

Well, it wasn’t anything you did... You used the same cleaner chemicals; you followed the same rituals... What changed?

It wasn’t until I was halfway through burying Tumbler that something struck. Something so terrifying that it made my knees go weak and my mouth go dry.

Bacteria... Virus... Parasite. Any number of rare, infectious diseases could have done this. And I got his blood on me. I slept with his blood on me.

Picking up the pace, I started to move shovelful after shovelful of dirt into the grave, filling it as fast as I could.

You could be infected... You can have whatever he had. Whatever turned his body into soup is swimming around in you right now.

I couldn’t take it anymore. With the last bit of dirt in the grave, I threw my shovel to the ground and bolted for the emergency shower as I peeled back my clean suit. Reaching up, I looked into the showerhead as I pulled the lever.

I never thought I would ever need this thing. I’m glad I put it in now.

Letting out a sigh of relief, I let the hot water flow over me and wash away some of my troubles. It did little to quell my fears, but it was nice to pretend it did something.

“Keep it together, Daymos... Just keep it together... You’re going to be... going to be...”

Who are you kidding? You know you’re not going to be fine... Can’t you feel it? Your whole body is host to-

Slamming my hoof against the stone wall of the basement, I took a deep breath and focused myself. “You’re fine... Now just stop... You got work to do.”

Letting go of the lever for the shower, I made my way to the chemical cupboard and opened it up.

I learned from my past mistakes. With the dead right underneath my hooves, I had to be prepared. And boy, was I ever prepared.

Not many people know that lemon juice is the best thing to get rid of the smell of decomposition. It’s a trade secret of crime scene cleanup teams in New Colt City. They still haven’t figured out how it works, but the juice does something, that’s for sure.

Grabbing my bottle of lemon juice, I squeezed the handle and started spraying everywhere in the basement, misting every nook and cranny before turning it on myself.

Besides a bit of stinging from getting it in my eye, it was rather pleasant.

With a sigh of relief and bottle in hoof, I ascended the stairs again, breathing a bit easier as I opened the door.

With a few more spritz of the bottle, I started to wonder if Scootaloo smelled of decomposition, and if she did, how I’d get her to let me spray her down.

Biting my lower lip, I cycled through excuse after excuse, looking for some sort of lie until I finally got an idea. I wouldn’t have to lie. I just had to be a little devious.

Making my way to the bathroom, I unscrewed the top of the bottle of lemon juice spray bottle and threw back the shower curtain. “There you are...”

What better to make sure we were all clean than to add a little something special to the shampoo?

Opening the top to my vanilla-scented shampoo, I wondered if Scootaloo would notice that it smelled of lemons. With the rest of it in, I closed the cap and shook it hard.

“D-Daymos?” Scootaloo called from the top of the stairs.

Quickly putting the bottle back, I flushed the toilet before walking out of the bathroom, just in time to catch her coming down the stairs.

“Hey, it smells better now,” she said as she sniffed at the air. “It’s fixed?”

“Yeah, one of the pipes was loose. All I had to do was tighten it and clean up a bit.” Glancing over at the clock, I clicked my teeth before looking over at Scootaloo. “Are you hungry?”

She nodded quickly. “Yeah. What’s for lunch?”

"How about we go to Peppy’s Pizzeria? I’m in the mood for pizza tonight.”

Scootalo’s eyes lit up and a huge smile grew across her face. “Really?!? Ohh wow! Thank you so much!”

I’ve never seen anyone react that way when it came to food. Well, except for this chubby kid in high school, but that was for a different reason.

“Geez, if all it takes to make you happy is eating out, we might as well go out every night,” I said with a little tease. “Why don’t you go take a shower and we’ll leave as soon as you’re ready.”

No sooner than the words were out of my mouth, Scootaloo was bounding towards the bathroom and slamming the door behind her.

With a heavy sigh, I lumbered into the living room and sat myself down on the couch. I wanted to pat myself on the back for such a clever idea and how easy it was to get Scootaloo to go with it, but I couldn’t relax.

I was too busy holding my wrist against my forehead and focusing heavily on my breathing. I wasn’t wheezing, I wasn’t running a fever, I didn’t feel nauseous, and I didn’t have an ache or pain to speak of. But still felt like I was sick, somehow, someway.

I had to be sure. I wasn’t going to take the risk that I was carrying some sort of deadly disease, but I couldn’t just put myself in quarantine. And I just couldn’t talk to a doctor about...

“Wait a minute...”

Getting to my hooves, I ran over to my bookshelf and started pulling out book after book before finally getting the book I wanted. Hematological Pathophysiology by Doctor Stable. It was a gift and I never thought I’d use the book, but I was so glad I didn’t get rid of it.

Nothing screamed out at me when I first read it about any diseases the liquified ponies, but it wouldn’t hurt to keep my eyes open while looked for what really interested me.

“No, not A... B. Hepatitis B... There we go. ‘Hepatitis B can be transmitted through the blood of an infected pony through broken skin or mucous membrane...”

It would have to do. I didn’t want the attention and I wasn’t looking forward to the questions, but if I was going to get tested and put my mind at ease, I needed a cover.

Putting the book back, I wandered over to the couch and fell back onto it.

I’ll call Doctor Stable tomorrow and tell him I pricked myself on an old syringe kit I was restoring. I’ll tell him I’m afraid I might get tetanus or something worse since the needles looked so dirty... I-

My train of thought was interrupted when I heard Scootaloo yell from the bathroom.

“Daymos!” she called out. “I’m almost done!”

“Make sure to comb your mane,” I yelled back as I pressed my hooves against my chest, half expecting to feel it slip through.

As much as I wanted to put it at the back of my mind, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Can a disease really cause a pony’s body to turn to liquid in the span of a night? Even after death?

As ridiculous as it sounded, I have seen stranger things.

“Okay, I’m ready!” Scootaloo happily declared, her mane looking absolutely frazzled, parted in every which direction.

I blinked a few times in confusion as I got up and looked her over. “Did... Did you even try to comb it properly?”

Scootaloo’s smile faltered as she looked up to, her cheeks turning bright red. “I... I actually don’t know how to comb my mane right... My mom usually does it for me...” she said bashfully as she looked down at the ground.

“Follow me...” I said with a little sigh. “I’ll help you.”

“R-Really? I mean, I wanted to ask for help earlier, but I was... Well, embarrassed. I just don’t know how to make it look right,” Scootaloo said as she followed me in. Brush in hoof, I motioned her in front of the mirror.

“It’s really easy as long as you’re looking at yourself while you do it...” I told her as I started to run the brush through her hair. “I’m still having a hard time wrapping my head around this. You don’t know how to brush your mane and you’re how old?”

“I was just never shown how okay?!?” Scootaloo suddenly screamed. “My mom, she... She slept all day. The only time I ever saw her was before I went to school and she’d... she’d...”

Again, she started breaking down, sobbing aloud.

There’s no way I’m going to comb her mane every day.

“Alright then, I’ll show you.”

Taking her hoof into mine, I placed the brush into hers and guided her hoof, going through the motions to make her mane look nice, clean, and tidy.

Slowly, her tears dried up as she watched herself in the mirror. Letting go of her hoof, she managed a little smile.

“T-That’s all I gotta do? Just... like that?” she asked uneasily. She started to do it all by herself. “It still doesn’t look right... What else do I need to do?”

As I opened my mouth to explain, a knock at the door got my attention.

“You still have to part it on the side. Do you know what I mean by parting?” I asked her as I slowly started to slip out of the bathroom.

Scootaloo nodded slowly. “Umm...Yeah. I think so.”

“Good. I’ll be right back.”

Trotting up to the door, I looked through the peephole to see a purple unicorn standing there.

“Hello?” she called out as she knocked on the door again.

Taking a deep breath, I put on my best smile and opened the door. “Good afternoon Twilight. How may I help you?”

“Oh! I’m just here to pick up that candlestick I dropped off a few days ago. You told me to stop by and pick it up tomorrow, but I was in the neighborhood,” she said with a chuckle as she takes a little step forward. “May I come in?”

I blinked a few times, wracking my brain until it finally hit me. “Oh! Yes! The sterling silver one! I almost forgot. Don’t worry; it’s done. Just... uh...”

I wanted to turn her away and leave her standing on the doorstep, but I just couldn’t find the words, much less say them.

It didn’t help that by the time I finally got the words out, she had already let herself in.

“Just follow me into the back room.”

What is it about today and all these ponies into my castle?

With a deep breath, I led Twilight tentatively into the living room, bracing myself for some sort of comment on a gut-wrenching smell.

But it never came.

Into the kitchen and right into my ‘legitimate’ workshop, I walked over to the desk and held out the sterling silver candlestick with care.

“It was a rather simple job, actually. I just used a dollop of that cleaner you gave me and rubbed it on with a cloth. After that, it was just a quick soak in some warm water, a quick dry, and I was done.”

Twilight smiled from ear to ear and let out a giddy squeal as a purple aura surrounded the candlestick, levitating it in front of her face. “Ohh, wow! It looks exactly like the day I got it! Thank you so much, Daymos. You have no idea how much this means.”

I gave her a bashful smile and a shrug. “Hey, it’s the least I can do. I mean, you do keep me supplied with all that cleaner.”

That was our arrangement, after all. She didn’t have much money but sure knew how to cook up chemicals. I use her special ‘all-purpose cleaner’ for pretty much everything.

“Oh, that reminds me...” she said as she tucked her candlestick away. “How does the new formula work? I’ve been toying around with a different mixture and trying to make it a little stronger while remaining soft on hooves.”

“Yeah it’s-”

That’s when it all hit me and everything made perfect sense.

* * *

With the last piece of Tumbler in the extra strength garbage bag, I leaned forward and stretched myself out and made my back make snap and pop, a lot like the sound packing peanuts make underhoof.

“Okay... Blood was drained. Neatly cut into sections. All that’s left is a little of my special cleaner and he’s ready for burial...”

Walking over to my chemical cabinet, I flung it open and pulled out my favorite gallon jug of all-purpose cleaner chemical and unceremoniously popped the top off and poured about half of the stuff into the garbage bag.

“That'll keep you from stinking up the place...”

* * *

“You made it stronger?” I asked rather flatly. “Well, that explains it...”

Twilight gave me a curious look. “Explains what?”

“I... I kind of got a chemical burn a couple of days ago from it. I didn’t think it was the cleaner since it never did that before.”

“Ohh darn it...” she cursed under her breath. “I’m so sorry, Daymos. I was just trying to help out. I didn’t mean to give you something that’d hurt you.”

“It’s okay, Twilight. Just... Can you please go back to the old formula?” I asked with a small smile.

Twilight smiled back. “Of course I can. I’ll make some tonight and drop it off...Scootaloo?”

Looking back, I saw Scootaloo standing there, peeking her head out from behind the bathroom door.

“H-Hey Twilight...” she said nervously.

Leaning in, Twilight whispered under her breath. “What’s Scootaloo doing here?”

I ignored her question for the moment and turned to Scootaloo and gave her a little smile.

“Scootaloo, can you go upstairs into my room and fetch my wallet? It’s on the nightstand. Twilight and I need to talk for a moment.”

“Sure thing, Daymos,” she said before bounding off and up the stairs.

Turning to back to Twilight, I let out a heavy sigh. “It’s a long story... But first, I have to ask... Did you read the paper today? More specifically, the front page?”

Twilight gave me a small nod as I led her out of my house. “Yeah, about the mare that killed herself today? But what’s that have to do with-”

Before I can even say it, her eyes go wide and she makes the connection herself. “Wait a minute... Scootaloo is... was?”

All I could do is let out another sigh and nod. “Yeah.”

“But why are you taking care of her?” she asked in confusion. “Doesn’t she-”

“Twilight, I’m about to take a hurt little filly out for pizza and maybe to play a few arcade games as well. Can I make a long story short, so I don’t keep her waiting?”

She slowly closed her mouth and looked to me patiently.

“I knew her mother. I saw she committed suicide, but there was no mention of Scootaloo. I didn’t know what to do or who to talk to, so I went looking for her and found her. She doesn’t have any family in town and the police asked if I could watch her. I said yes.”

Twilight opens her mouth to ask a question, but before she can, Scootaloo comes running out of my house. “I got your wallet, Daymos! I hope you don’t mind, but I also counted it.”

Bending down a bit, I took my wallet from her and gave it a little shake. “Oh? And how much money do we have?”

“Sixty Seven bits,” Scootaloo said with a proud smile.

“Perfect. We can get a large pizza and play every game in the arcade if we want to.”

I turned back to Twilight as I slipped my wallet over my neck. “I’ll talk to you later, okay? I can explain it all then.”

Twilight let out a sigh and shrugged. “Alright then, I’ll see you later, I guess. You promise to tell me everything, though?”

“I promise.”

Chapter 5: Past

There’s something about arcades that bring out the kid in me.

Not the murderous kid who beat his teacher to death, no. Not that one.

That innocent little colt in me I sometimes like to pretend hides in the recesses of my mind who gets excited when he walks through the door of Peppy’s Pizzeria.

It might be the flashing lights, the high pitched music, maybe even the sound a token makes as it slides into the machine, I don’t know.

No matter the reason, I try to make it a habit of coming to Peppy’s and enjoy myself now and again.

“Hey, Daymos! Hey Daymos! Let’s play this game over here!”

It only seems fitting that I share it with a hurt little filly.

Sure, in time, Scootaloo will cry again as the pain creeps back, but for now? She deserves to be happy.

“Ooooh, a fighting game, huh? I don’t know... I have a feeling you’re going to kick my butt,” I said with a little chuckle. “But sure, I’ll take a whack at it.”

In goes a token, on come the lights... The hypnotic music...

“Who do you want to play as?” the excitable little filly asked, bouncing on the little step stool she grabbed from who knows where.

Looking over the roster of characters you could choose, I rolled my shoulders and picked one at random. “I’ll choose this scary looking guy.”

“Blanka huh? In that case, I’m going to go with Chun-AH!!”

I looked to my side just in time to watch as another filly with a dark blue coat ripped the stool out from underneath Scootaloo’s feet, her face bouncing off the edge of the machine and sending her down to the ground. My fatherly instinct kicked in — I’ve long since given up trying to attribute my urge to care for her to something else — and I bent down as Scootaloo cradled her now bloody face, the other filly not even looking as she sat down and went on to play her game.

“Lemme see, lemme see...”

“It... It huuuurts!” she yelled out with a ragged sob.

Gingerly taking her hooves in my own, I moved them away carefully and inspected the damage. “You didn’t split your lip open, that’s good at least... You just have a nose bleed. Just tilt your head back and pinch your nose for now. I’ll be right back.”

I was getting up first to get some tissues, but something about the filly sitting there ignoring the group of onlookers as she lost herself in the game got on my nerves.

“Where are your parents?” I asked, putting on my “adult” tone on now. It seemed so weird I was doing this, but something deep in my gut would just not let this transgression go.

She didn’t reply.

Moving behind the arcade game itself, I grabbed the plug and gave it a good yank. This should get her attention...

“HEY!” she screamed out as the screen grew dark. “What did you do that for, I already put a token in!”

“Good, now that you’re listening, where are your parents?” I asked, more sternly this time.

“My dad’s over there,” she said casually as she pointed to the stallion across the room. “Now pay me back for the-”

“Excuse me, sir?” I called out as I walked towards him. He didn’t hear me; he was too busy chatting away to some uninterested mare. “Hey, I’m talking to you!”

He finally turned and scowled at me as I started marching up to him. “What?” he asked, sounding half insulted that I was even talking to him. I knew his type and I knew I wasn’t going to like talking to him. He was the kind of pony who liked wearing a pressed suit to a family restaurant, along with that costly watch that just screamed ‘Hey, I’m rich and you’re not.’ I wasn’t going to let that stop me, though.

“Your daughter just ripped the stool out from another filly’s hooves and gave her a bloody nose,” I said with a hint of anger in my voice. “I wanted to talk to you about it.”

The unicorn rolled his shoulders. “You’re probably mistaken. The clumsy filly probably just slipped and-”

“I watched her do it and I want an apology,” I said through grit teeth. Something about this guy just got under my skin. Maybe it was just the superiority complex he was trying to put on. Perhaps it was the fact that he called Scootaloo clumsy. But I was suppressing every urge not to pounce on him and let his true colors shine through while he was in a headlock.

“Listen boy. I don’t think you know who you’re talking to. Now it’s best if you just walk away and be glad she’s just got a bloody nose.”

I took a step close and locked eyes with the stallion. And you have no idea who you’re talking to. I’d love nothing more than to strap you to a table and laugh as you beg for-

“Whoa, are they going to fight?” I heard a voice from behind me say. Turning, I looked over at the growing crowd of ponies. I turned back to the stallion and started to grind my teeth.

I could punch him right now, but I’d rather not get kicked out of Peppy’s... I like it here and it’s a good way to get ponies curious about things they shouldn’t ask about. Like why a normally friendly pony just tried to break someone’s neck.

“Listen boy, I think we got off onto the wrong hoof...” he said, putting on a plastic smile. “I’m Big Wig, by the way...Why don’t we take this outside and talk this over like gentlecolts?”

I managed to smile back. “Sure. Why not?”

I followed him through the arcade floor as the crowd dispersed and stopped by Scootaloo with some napkins I took off an empty table. “Listen, I’ll be right back. I’m going to talk with the filly’s father and get this all straightened out.”

“O...Okay...” Scootaloo said, her nose sounding slightly plugged. “But you don’t really have to. I mean-”

“But I want to. It’s the principle of the thing. Everypony should be held accountable for their actions, especially if it hurts another pony.”

Scootaloo looked up to me with those big, purple eyes of hers and nodded, a small smile growing on her face. “Okay then... Thank you.”

Big Wig was waiting and tapping his hoof impatiently as he held the backdoor open for me. It’s only when it closed did he drop the whole “gentlecolt” routine.

“Listen here, boy... I don’t care who you think you are, but you’re talking to the branch manager of the Ponyville Credit Union. Now, I got a lot of powerful connections so if you apologize now, I’ll forget this whole transgression. So what do you say?”

I wasn’t paying any particular attention to what Big Wig was saying. I was too busy making sure there was no one else around us after the first few words left his mouth.

Nopony around... Perfect.

“What do I say?” I asked as I felt that all too familiar sadistic smile of mine starting to shine. “I say... Collapsed windpipe says what?”

“Wha-”

That’s about all Big Wig was able to get out before I charged forward and pinned his throat to the side of Peppy’s Pizzeria with my forehoof. All he could do was kick and struggle in vain and let out a faint, gurgling sound that satisfied me to no end. But now was no time to gloat or relish. I moved in closer so that the only pony who could hear me was him alone.

“Listen here... I don’t take well to ponies telling me what to do, especially self-righteous assholes like you. So here’s how it’s going to go down...” I said, punctuating my demand with a little shove, making his eyes bulge a bit. “You’re going to get your kid, you’re going to get her to apologize, you’re going to leave, and when you finally get home, you’re going to teach her some fucking manners. Do we understand each other?”

“O-O-Okay! Okay!” Big Wig gasped out, his whole body shaking either from a lack of oxygen or fear, maybe a little of both. “Just... PLEASE!”

A shiver of excitement ran down my spine... That begging, that pleading. It always manages to set my passion aflame.

“Ohhh, because you asked so nicely...” I said with a little chuckle as I let Big Wig go, relishing the sight of the over pompous prick bouncing off the ground.

“Y...You bastard...” he gasped out as he picked himself up. “Now you’ve fucked up... I’m going to get the police and tell them-”

Leaning down, I got right into his face and just smiled. “And tell them what?” I asked, laughing under my breath as he stared at me in blank horror.

“T-T-Tell them... T-Tell them...” That sound of a pony trying to swallow the lump in their throat as they slowly realize what they’re looking at... Next to the killing itself, it’s a feeling I’ve come to relish. “N-Nothing. Nothing at all.”

“And here I thought you were thick... Way to prove me wrong,” I said as I helped Big Wig to his hooves. “Now get out of here.”

He didn’t waste the moment to threaten me this time and instead scrambled to his hooves and did his best to walk as quickly and calmly as he could into the arcade.

Meanwhile, I walked in with almost a little kick in my step. That is, until what I did finally reached the more rational part of my brain.

Oh sweet sisters, what have I done? There’s no way that guy will keep quiet... The police are going to come knocking any day now and are going to want to talk to me and then they’ll press charges before-

“Hey, I- Fine... I’m sorry, okay?”

My internal worry was drowned out as the filly who started this whole mess apologized at the urging of her terrified looking father before he practically dragged her out of the arcade. Scootaloo looked over to me and smiled from ear to ear. “Daymos, you’re an amazing pony. You know that, right?”

All that panic just seemed to be melt away as Scootaloo ran up to me, smiling happily as she hugged me.

I’ve been called many things, either by myself, the ponies who think they know me and the ponies who have seen the true me. And I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone call me ‘amazing.’

“I do now,” I said as I returned her embrace. “Come on, let’s go see if our pizza is done.”

“Okay!”

While Big Wig represents a problem in the future if he did open his mouth, but for now? I didn’t need to worry about him while he was still shaking in his horseshoes. If there was anything I needed to worry about now is if we were going to finish this pizza now or take it home for leftovers.

“Ohh wow! This looks soooo good!” Scootaloo yelled as she hopped into her seat, her eyes lighting up as she stared down at the pizza.

“Jeez, you act like you’ve never been to a pizza parlor before,” I said as I sat down, grabbing a slice of cheese, onion, green pepper, and mushroom pizza — my favorite.

“Well... No, not really,” she said rather meekly. “My mom never really had like, the time or money to take me out to eat.”

I never knew how hard the little filly must have had it. I mean, I didn’t have the perfect childhood either, but at least my parents treated me well while they were around.

“Then eat up and enjoy yourself. We have a lot of pizza, so don’t feel afraid to help yourself.”

Scootaloo’s eyes lit up, and apparently, that was all the encouragement she needed to pile three slices onto her plate.

“Mmmm! Thank you!” she said in-between bites.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” I said with a little chuckle. “The last thing we need is for you to choke.”

“Yeah... Nothing ruins a meal more than the Heimlich maneuver.”

I practically jumped in my seat and turned to face the familiar voice and let out a heavy sigh. “Jeez Twilight... You really know how to scare a pony,” I said with a laugh. “What are you doing here?”

I didn’t even hear her...

“Oh, I was just coming by to pick up an order I called in and saw you two over here,” she says with a little shrug. “I thought I’d say hi. And also, I was wondering if I could employ your services again for something a little more... sensitive this time. I was wondering, could I talk to you alone?”

I shot Scootaloo a look and she just gave me a nod as she continued stuffing her face. I shook my head and got to my hooves, swallowing what little pizza I managed to nibble on. “Sure, sure... But can we make it quick?”

I hated it when my meals were interrupted. I honestly wanted to tell her to leave me alone, but that wouldn’t be a friendly thing to do.

Twilight nodded and started trotting outside. “Thank you. It’ll only take a minute, I promise.”

Following her out of Peppy’s Pizzeria, I followed Twilight roughly to the spot where I strangled Big Wig into line. “So, what do you need me to-”

“What I need you to do is to tell me why none of Honeysuckle’s friends know about you,” Twilight said flatly. “For Scootaloo’s sake and at Spike’s request, I started looking into you. I tried to get more info from Honeysuckle’s friends about how well you knew her, but... They all said that they didn’t know you.”

Ohhh gods damn it... This is the last thing I need right now...

“Twilight, I already told you... Honeysuckle and I were just well... Acquaintances. We weren’t all good friends, buddy-buddy. I talked to her and she talked to me. That was about the extent of our relationship,” I said with a heavy sigh. “Twilight, I’ve already gotten the fourth degree from the police about all this and I’m not comfortable with-”

“And I’m not comfortable with the fact that Scootaloo’s taken to you so easily,” Twilight said with more than a hint of anger in her voice. “I mean, she practically looks to you like a father now and it doesn’t take a genius to notice. And I’m sorry if I’m coming off as pushy, but I just want to make sure that nothing else is going on here.”

My life used to be so simple. Wake up, brush my teeth, do some cleaning, murder a few ponies...

“Twilight, this is ridiculous... I-”

“I like Daymos because he’s the only one who’s actually treating me like a pony instead of like I was... I was made of glass or something!” I whipped around and found myself staring at a rather angry looking orange filly. “Not only that, but he also wasn’t lying when he said I knew what I was going through, not like those officers or the nurses.”

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up on end. I’d be perfectly fine with Scootaloo telling somepony else about my past, but Twilight Sparkle? The most resourceful pony in Ponyville? The one who has access to whatever she could possibly need, just by saying ‘I’m the Princess’ student’?

Keep your mouth shut Scootaloo... Please, for the love that all is holy. SHUT UP.

Twilight cast a glance in my direction, and by now, it was painfully obvious that I was sweating. I could feel it.

“What do you mean he wasn’t lying?” she asked, a hint of curiosity in her voice.

“Well... Daymos told me about what happened to his mom and dad,” Scootaloo said, half mumbling as she cast a nervous glance my way.

Twilight turned to me and put me under even further scrutiny than before. “What happened to your parents? I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned them before.”

“For good reason,” I said sharply. “They both passed away. Now listen, Twilight? I’ve been courteous. I’ve been helpful. But can you please drop it?”

“But-”

“Twilight, if you have any respect for me as a friend, you’ll leave the past in the past,” I said, nearing close to a yell. “What happened, happened. So just, please. Drop it.”

Twilight opened her mouth again, but let out a heavy sigh in defeat. “Fine... I’m sorry. I’m just trying to make sure Scootaloo is in good hooves,” shifting her gaze to Scootaloo, Twilight knelt down to Scootaloo’s level. “Spike and the rest of the girls keep asking about you and they’re all worried about you. I’m worried too.”

“Well... I’m doing good,” Scootaloo said, managing a small smile. “Daymos has been a big help. But I... I don’t want to see Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom, or Spike just yet. It’s not because I don’t want to see them, though! It’s just... I want to make sure I won’t cry in front of them. Cause I don’t want them to cry either.”

“Okay... I’ll make sure to tell them how strong you’re trying to be,” she said with a warm smile. “But if you want to talk to me or any of them, we’re all here for you.”

Leaning up, Scootaloo wrapped her hooves around Twilight’s neck and hugged her tight. “Thank you.”

Twilight gave her a quick hug back and started to turn towards the main road. “I’m sorry for ruining your evening. I’ll just be on my way. Have a good night you two.”

I put on my best smile and gave her a wave as she set off, but on the inside, something screamed out in a mix of rage and fear.

“Hey, Scootaloo? Are you okay with packing up the pizza and heading home? I’m not exactly that hungry anymore and I do have to get up early...”

“Yeah, I know the feeling... I wasn’t really expecting any drama. But um, Daymos? You’re not mad, are you? At me?” she asked, a hint of fear in her voice. I guess her question was a valid one, seeing as though I was practically throwing the pizza into the box our server gave us. “I just wanted to stand up for you like you did for me.”

“No, no... I’m not angry. At you, or anypony. It’s just my parents are a... a touchy subject. If you can just-”

“I won’t tell anypony without your permission, I promise.”

Well, that’s at least some measure of peace.

“Thank you... Now come on, let’s go home.”

But Scootaloo's promise did little to quell so many emotions that were bubbling away inside me.

* * *

Okay... Scootaloo’s in bed, she’s sleeping away... Now... I can try to relax.

Part of me has always wanted to get one of those metal isolation chambers that are supposed to be good for meditation. But they’re still too expensive. So instead, I use my bathtub.

Sliding back into it and letting the water pass over my head, I held my breath and tried to unwind, but my mind raced a mile a minute.

She’s got to be looking into newspaper articles by now... The library is full of them. It won’t take her long to find the one she wants.

I sometimes kick myself for being so close to Twilight, even becoming her friend in some weird way. In truth, I was scared of her. I’m not afraid to admit it. She’s smart, she’s determined, and she has the resources. But on top of all that, the one thing that really made me fear her was the fact that she nearly figured out I was the one responsible for the murder of the Cherry twins in Canterlot.

Twilight Sparkle almost caught me.

Chapter 6: Fair

Ahhh, the Cherry Twins... I remember them both fondly. I knew them as Cherry Fizz and Cherry Drop, but the newspaper had another name for them.

Brutal Murder of Colt and Mare!

Two More Bodies Found!

The Valentine Killer Strikes Again!

The Valentine Killer, as the papers had called them. They were completely unaware that it wasn’t just one killer at work, but two. And they had no idea knowing that it was a brother and sister team working together. Even I was surprised when I first stumbled into the duo of killers.

To think that two ponies would be bound by blood in more than just the terms of family. It almost made me want to approach them, maybe even learn something from them...

If it wasn’t for the fact that they not only enjoyed killing ponies but raping them first.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

I first found out about the killings while I was in Canterlot, attending the World’s Fair while I was on vacation.

Yes, even monsters like dear deplorable Daymos need some time off. To get away from everything and have some time to unwind and relax.

But alas, it was never meant to be. The Valentine Killer murders got my attention like a bag of catnip to a curious cat. I tossed aside my usual routine of coming to the fair to eat fried dough and ride the tilt-a-whirl until I had trouble standing straight.

And instead, I started to do some hunting.

It honestly wasn’t that hard to find the ponies that were responsible, though. I didn’t need to call in any favors or even try that hard to find them. They practically fell in my lap.

It was just after I had purchased a set of knives from an oriental pony who claimed they were sharp enough to cut bone — something I was eagerly hoping to see was true — when I saw them. Two ponies, sitting on a bench in the central square, just ogling each pony that walked by. Most ponies would look at that and wouldn’t give it any other thought.

However, it’s been established that I am nothing like other ponies.

They licked their lips, they whispered to each other... And they both had a hunger in their eyes that neatly mirrored my own after honing on my potential quarry.

But to be completely certain and make sure they weren’t just both perverts, I walked up to them.

I remember it oh so vividly...

“Ohhh my hooves are killing me!” I remember saying with a tired laugh before leaning against a nearby lamp post. I grabbed my back hooves and pretended to massage them.

“Well come here cutie!” the fuschia mare said after scooting aside and making room. “Get off those tired hooves and take a breather.”

I smiled and sat down beside her and the pony I assumed was her brother. “Well that’s quite friendly, thank you. I’m Ivory. Nice to meet you.”

The mare extended her hoof and I took it gingerly. “I’m Cherry Drop and this is my brother, Cherry Fizz.”

“Hey,” Fizz said flatly and nodding.

Letting go of Drop’s hoof, I brought it to my side and desperately tried not to rub it against my coat or look around for one of those anti-septic stations that have been popping up everywhere.

“Sooo... What brings you to the World’s Fair?” I asked idly as I leaned back in my seat. “Same as everypony, I bet?”

“Oh yeah, we’re here for all the fun that’s to be had!” Drop said with a wide smile. “The food, the festivities, the atmosphere...”

“The ponies,” Fizz said with a small smile.

“Ah, yes...” Drop said, coughing into her hoof. “We especially like meeting new ponies who we can have some fun with.”

The way Drop said that and looked to Fizz... It was like a big, flashing neon sign that read ‘We’re hiding something.’

“Tell ya what, Ivory...” Fizz began, leaning forward in his seat. “We were about to go to this little bar on the other side of town. They have great drinks, music, dancing... I know this is all out of the blue, but why don’t you come with us and hang? Drinks are on me.”

No pony is ever that nice to somepony they just met. Not without wanting something in return and my suspicions were starting to grow into one big, fat realization. They were planning on doing something to me. And if I let them, I’d end up regretting it. But I couldn’t let them get away.

“Well, alright,” said with a little shrug. “I don’t see any harm in it...”

And so we took off to this mystery bar. We walked all the way, talking about the weather, about the events at the fair, and all sorts of other small talks that I was horrible at.

But it was all a front. It was just so painfully obvious that they weren’t interested in talking. Sometimes they’d slow down a bit and whisper or just stare me. I could feel their gaze burn into me, sizing me up.

At that point, there were two possibilities as to who they really were. They either were sex addicts and were about invite me to a threesome, at which I point I’d run for the hills... Or that hunger that hid behind their eyes was something more.

So I went into the Half-Full Bar and played along. We sat down, we had drinks... Well, they had drinks. I pretended I was drinking. I honestly swore off alcohol the night my father poured a whole a mug of beer into my face and nearly choked me when I said it tasted horrible...

I kept waiting for the sign that they were who I thought they were, but it didn’t seem like it was coming... I was almost ready to give up until the waiter brought out shots.

I remember having the shot of whiskey put in front of me and then having Cherry Drop get my attention with some stupid remark about how I must be an ‘animal in the sack’... Whatever that meant. Still, she was doing everything she could to get my attention focused on her. But I saw Fizz out of the corner of my eye and he was doing something to my drink.

They were putting something in it.

I decided right then and there that I needed to swallow my pride and do the unthinkable. Put alcohol into my mouth... The thought of it hitting my tongue was enough to make me gag, but I had to do it.

“Cheers!” Drop and Fizz had said as they held up their shot glasses with big, plastic grins.

I picked up my glass and held it up with the same plastic smile. “Cheers.”

Grabbing the glass of whiskey, I threw it back and kept it in my mouth. I wanted to spit it out, but then they’d know I knew something... And if I swallowed it... Well... That would have been the death of Daymos.

So I let swill around in my mouth and pretended to enjoy myself in silence and tried not to gag. After noticing that they were staring at me expectantly, I slumped forward and closed my eyes, faking unconsciousness.

“Good... I thought he’d never pass out... Let’s get him back to the house and then we can have our fun.”

I wanted to turn to Cherry that very moment, just to see the look on her face and bust her... But no, I had other plans.

“Should I grab his bag?” Fizz asked as he held up what sounded distinctly like my bag of knives.

“Sure. He might have something valuable,” Cherry whispered as she put a hoof on my back. “I guess our friend had too much to drink...” she called out to somepony. “Come on, let’s get him to the hotel room so he can sober up.”

She leaned in close and whispered pass my head to her brother. “And then have our fun before offing him.”

I was dragged and carried back to what I believed was a hotel and tossed onto the bed. From there, it was as simple as waiting for them to leave the room before opening my eyes and spitting out the spiked whiskey.

Funny... If they had even tried to tie me up, they probably would have been able to kill me. I may have been able to get one of them with a hoof tied up... but after that, whoever was left would either be able to take a swing at me or call for help.

But, no... They had gotten used to the routine and had developed a false sense of security. They dumped me on the bed, left me there, then wandered off to the other room. They had no idea who I really was. After regaining my composure and suppressing the urge to vomit, I grabbed one of my new knives. The big one. Black handle, 9-inch blade, and razor-sharp. It felt so right to hold it...

Fizz was the first to fall. I walked into the bathroom where they babbled about how they were going to fuck me silly before dumping my body in some ditch... So I put the knife right in the back of Fizz’s skull, leaving him standing there and gasping, looking like a fish that had just been pulled from the lake. Unfortunately, my knife had gotten stuck in the bone and I had to leave it in. Drop tried to scream after seeing her brother fall, but I was too fast. I pounced on her and started to wring her throat.

Not many ponies know this, but strangling someone isn't quick, nor is it clean. You need to hold on for quite a while and usually, you're right up in their face. It can really traumatize a pony... Cherry Drop was crying her eyes out as I crushed her throat, gasping out and looking to me, her eyes screaming at me to let her go. But I couldn't.

Nor did I want to.

I was... I was in the zone. I was having more fun than I’d ever had in my entire life. There was no planning, no anticipation, no waiting, no stalking. It was all just so...

Spontaneous.

The same could be said when Twilight almost caught me red hoofed.

I had just finished with Cherry Drop when-

***************************************************************

“Daymos!”

I scrambled out of the tub and looked around, my eyes darting all around the bathroom.

Am I hearing things again? Please tell me I’m not hallucinating, I-

“DAYMOS!”

I knew I wasn’t mistaken the second time Scootaloo screamed my voice. Grabbing a towel and drying myself off quickly, I hurried out of the bathroom and ran upstairs. “Scootaloo, what’s going on? What’s wrong?” I asked frantically as I barged in.

I found the filly in the middle of her bed, curled up in a ball and just sobbing her eyes. The one thing that really got my attention was the dark, wet stained sheets she sat in.

“I-I-I had a nightmare...” she sniffled, looking up to me with tear-stained eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

My brain started to process the scene, and as soon as it hit me, I held up a hoof and stopped her from going any further. “You... You didn’t mean to,” I parroted as I helped her out of bed. “You had an accident. It’s nothing to be ashamed about. So don’t apologize.”

I really hoped she couldn’t see my face in the dark because I was doing my best not to gag. But I resisted that urge and other urges to ask her how old she was and wetting the bed and instead took a deep breath, steeled myself, and led her downstairs. “Let me get the tub ready and you can take a bath, okay?”

Scootaloo nodded slowly and went quiet right up until the point I brought her into the bathroom. “I dreamed I was back home and I could hear something upstairs... I walked up and it was coming from the bathroom. I opened the door and there... there was a... a monster in the bathtub ove-over my mom and... and...” She broke down in tears again as the tub drained out.

“Hey, hey... Everything is okay now. You don’t have to cry. It was just a nightmare and it’s over.”

Scootaloo almost tackled me and held onto me tight, sobbing into my chest. “I WAS SO SCARED!” she cried out, her hot tears starting to stain my coat. “I WAS ALONE AGAIN AND AND-”

I held her close and comforted the little filly as she cried her eyes out, not knowing just what to say to make it better. The room just went silent, save for the sound of the tub filling with fresh water.

“Don’t worry...: I finally said under my breath. “Remember what I said? It’ll get better.”

Scootaloo looked up to me and sniffled aloud. “Yeah... It just... It just doesn’t feel that way... I feel like I’ll hurt like this forever...”

Helping her into the bathtub, I ran a hoof through her mane, my husk of a heart just seeming to fall to pieces at the very sight of her so... so broken.

It was like looking at myself as a kid all over again.

“Then that’s how you’re going to feel,” I said flatly. “If all you can think is ‘I’m not going to get better,’ then that’s how you’re going to feel for the rest of your life. Your life isn’t going to turn around and get better until you realize that you need to make it better.”

“I... I never thought of it like that...” the little filly said, managing a small smile. “I just... I just gotta think positive, right?”

I gave her a nod as she sat down in the tub and pulled out a bottle of shampoo and gave it to her. “That’s right. When everything feels bad and the whole world is against you, just think about the bright side of life and what you’re thankful for.”

Scootaloo’s smile grew until she let out a little giggle. “Thanks.”

Look at me: Daymos, motivational speaker. I see now why ponies get into this kind of work... It’s just so easy to say what other ponies want to hear. If the killing thing falls through, I might just have a whole other line of work.

Getting to my hooves, I made my way to the bathroom door.“There are towels in the cabinet. Just drain the tub when you’re done, dry yourself off, and you can sleep on the couch. I’ll have your sheets cleaned by morning.”

“Thank you... And Daymos!”

I stopped short and stood in the doorway, waiting for her to say something.

“I know I’ve said it a bunch of times already, but I gotta say it again... Thank you.” The little filly smiled at me and I smiled back.

“Think nothing of it.”

I felt that warm feeling again in the pit of my black heart and made my way upstairs and into Scootaloo’s room, feeling just a little less disgust about cleaning her sheets. And to me, that spoke volumes.

She’s like a skin tumor... I thought with a little laugh as I balled up the sheets and carried them into the laundry room. And now she’s metastasized to my heart...

As I threw the sheets away into the washing machine, my mind drifted back to the daydream I was having in the tub and that happy feeling I was having was cut short as I remembered the kind of mess I was in.

“Twilight...”

* * *

The high from the kills had worn off and I was struck with the sudden realization that I not only still had to get rid of the bodies but clean the room too. The knife in Cherry Fizz's skull had killed him quickly, but blood had pooled around his head and was flowing from the linoleum floor of the bathroom and seeping into the carpet with each passing second.

“Okay, okay... I got time. All I need are a bunch of garbage bags and some bleach and-”

A knock at the door sent my heart racing. Please let it be a cleaning lady who'll just walk away I silently hoped, prayed. But no...

“Hello? Cherry Drop? Cherry Fizz? It's me, Twilight! I'm back from the store and I have everything.”

I ran a hoof down my face and let out a frustrated groan. Three of them... There were three of them? Three killers? This is just crazy, how can they-

As I paced the floor in panic, my eyes hit a newspaper on the nightstand with a personal ad circled.

Fun loving brother and sister looking for friendly mare or stallion to join in on World's Fair fun. For more information, call-

My eyes darted around and it all started to make a little more sense.

Okay... The killings always had a stallion and a mare... She may not be a part of their sick little murder pack. She may have been another pony they planned on killing.

“Umm... Think you can open the door? I don't have a keycard...”

I did the only thing I could think of at the time and went silent, stood ramrod stiff, and prayed to whatever powers that be that she'd just walk away.

Finally, after five minutes of knocking and calling out, she walked away.

I waited just a few more seconds and bolted over to the bed, grabbing up as many sheets as I could.

“Gotta get to work,” I grumbled.

Gathering up at least four sets of sheets, two on the bed and two in a cabinet. I ran over to Cherry Drop first and started to wrap her from head to toe in the sheets, turning them into a makeshift bag. It didn't take long to get Cherry Drop taken care of, but Cherry Fizz was another story... I needed to get the knife out of his skull, but it was easier said than done. I grabbed it, twisted it, yanked it, even braced my hooves against his face and pulled as hard as I could, but it was still stuck.

“You useless little...” Backing up, I kicked Fizz upside the head in anger and frustration, unable believe what was happening. I used what sheets I had left to bag him up as well, just like his sister and had two big, white cloth bags, one starting to turn a little red.

Gotta get rid of them...

I managed a smile as I glanced at the window and ran over it, looking over the side. “Dumpster down there... I think I can drop them both down there and-”

“I'm so sorry that you were locked out, Ms. Sparkle...”

Voices. Voices getting closer.

“It's okay. I just don't want to be waiting out in the hallway for when they get back...”

A familiar voice.

Glancing at the two sheet bags, I grabbed them both and sprinted towards the door, flinging open the window and tossing them out without a second glance.

The bodies are gone... Except I'm still here...

I heard somepony grab at the doorknob and jiggle it, sending me into full panic mode.

I'm not getting caught. I'm not going to get caught. I'M NOT GOING TO GET CAUGHT

Looking out the window again at the dumpster below, I took some solace in the fact that both bodies were sitting comfortably three floors below. What I didn't like was the fact that if I wanted to get out of here, I couldn't take the front door and I couldn’t hide.

That only left me with one option.

So I started to climb out of the window and just as I got most of myself out, the door opened and I slipped, my hooves scrambling and clinging to the ledge below. While my heart hammered in my chest and every fiber of my being screamed that this was a bad idea, this Twilight girl and what I could only guess was a representative of the hotel walked around the room.

“Huh, it doesn't seem like they're here... Wait... What’s... OH MY GOSH! Look! There's blood! Oh dear Celestia, there’s so much...”

I hit my head against the brick wall of the building, angry at quite a lot of things at that very moment, but mostly because I had left a crime scene.

I had never left a crime scene... It's always been one nice, neat kill. But no, Twilight had to have been there.

And even after they left to call the police and I had managed to pull myself up without falling below to my death, she had to be there just as I was going to leave and I thought I was in the clear.

“Excuse me sir, but do you know these two?” the purple unicorn asked as I tried to hurry away, hoping just to make it home.

I stopped in my tracks and looked to her with a smile before glancing at the picture she held up and nodding. “Well, actually, yes... I was invited to drinks with them,” I said with a small smile. “But I... Well, I couldn't exactly hold my liquor and I guess I passed out. I woke up just as they were going to bring me into their room so I could sober up.”

You see, that's the key to lying. Not making up fantastic stories to fool people, but twisting the truth into something to suit your needs.

Twilight nodded slowly. “Did you?”

I shook my head and leaned against the wall. “No... I was feeling sick and just wanted to go back to my hotel room and sleep it off, but before I could even get halfway down the hallway, everything started spinning, and I had to dash for the bathroom.”

“Okay, I understand... My name's Twilight, Twilight Sparkle, by the way.”

Twilight can be a really common name, but the only mare with the name Twilight Sparkle was Princess Celestia’s prized student. And I realized just how much trouble I was in.

“And I'm trying to find out just what happened to the Cherry twins. With the amount of blood in their room, all I can think of is foul play... So I'm trying to learn as much as I can before I start an official investigation.”

By now, I was screaming internally. If anypony were to find out just what happened, it would be her.

“What's your name, if you don't mind me asking?”

I tried my best to imitate the mare's innocent smile. “Daymos... It's a... pleasure to meet you, Miss Sparkle.”

For the second time...

“But I think I'm going to take my leave for now,” I said, nodding towards the road. “I've had a rough day today and I just want to get back home to Ponyville...”

“Alright Daymos... You have a safe trip home!” Twilight called out with a smile and a wave.

I waved back and started the long walk back to the train station, where I hoped to put as much distance between her and me as possible.

But... Happenstance is a funny thing. Not two weeks later, Twilight moved into the library that used to belong to Miss Cloudview, the former librarian with a thing for making her own snuff films.

And she saw me in the marketplace. I was picking up some cleaning chemicals when she ran up to me. I nearly wet myself like a frightened foal at the sight of her running up to me. I half expected to see a contingent of Royal Guard behind her, but no.

She ran up to me, smiling. “Oh my gosh, Daymos! Do you remember me?”

How could I forget...

“Twilight? Oh hi! What brings you here?”

“Oh, I was just taking a look around since I moved in. What about you? On another vacation?”

I should have kept my mouth shut, but I didn’t... Instead, I chatted with her, told her what I did for a living, where I lived, and entered a little business arrangement. And from there, it all just sort of rolled downhill the more she started calling me ‘friend.’

But, being close to her opened a door into the investigations... All I had to do was ask her about what happened in Canterlot and she told me everything. They searched the room from top to bottom and collected a few stray hairs, but they had nothing else to go. Not only that, but they couldn’t find a single trace of the twin’s bodies.

I lucked out. The dumpster was most likely emptied and taken to a landfill where they’ve been rotting away ever since.

So I let my guard down. I started falling into a false sense of security. And I should have known better. But now I feel like the house of cards that Daymos has called his castle is starting to crumble...

I ran hoof down my face and wandered into my room. I was tired and I had an early day tomorrow. The last thing I needed was to stress over things I had no way of changing. So I turned my mind towards the things I actually had control.

Laundry was in the washing machine. It’d go in the dryer when I wake up. I’ll have my morning shower, make myself look nice, and meet Pinkie Pie at Sugar Cube Corner by 8 AM.

Afterall, Pinkie still wanted to sit down and have that meal and chat at some point.

So I thought it’d be better to get this little dinner-date out of the way sooner, rather than later.

A date with Pinkie Pie...

Staring up to the ceiling and listening to the tub drain before hearing the little filly walk across the floor and thinking about those words ‘date’, all I could do was sigh in frustration.

“What’s happened to my life? When did my life become so... unfair?”

Chapter 7: Words

Back in the olden days, thousands of years ago, the easiest way for a stallion or mare to procure a mate was to show them their genitals. This proved that they were virile and able to provide a child.

During this time, ponies were also imprisoned or executed on circumstantial evidence when it came to the crime of murder. All it took was enough ponies to say you killed somepony and it was off to the gallows.

In today’s enlightened and post flashing era, ponies play a game called ‘dating’ to find a mate. And there’s such a thing called due process to ensure that even the most psychopathic murderers get a fair trial.

Sometimes, I wonder how I would have fared all those years ago.

Sure, I wouldn’t have to worry about dating and could simply refuse to show my genitals and be left alone to my own processes...

However, I would most likely have been beheaded once somepony noticed that ponies tend to disappear around me and claimed that it was my fault.

Especially if Twilight was the one accusing me, even today, her word carries so much weight.

I couldn’t help but muse on this as I combed my mane for the third time. Somehow, I was not satisfied with the way it looked and convinced that if it didn’t look just right, I would offend the mare who asked me on a date.

And you agreedto it.

With an irritated mumble, I set my brush down on the bathroom sink and looked into the mirror. “It’s just two... acquaintances talking over breakfast,” I mumbled under my breath. “She can think it’s a date if that makes her happy. And as long as it gets her off my back, I’ll be happy.”

It’s hard to look at a date as nothing more than a social obligation when you don’t know how to feel love for another pony.

I did love my mother, but that was a different kind of love. That love came naturally to me.

Too bad it left unnaturally.

Shaking the errant thought from my head, I walked from the bathroom and sat myself down in the living room, waiting and watching the clock. I wasn’t exactly looking forward to today, but I wasn’t going to just lie in bed all day.

“It’s 7:20...” I mused aloud as I looked at the clock. “Scootaloo?”

From upstairs, I heard the door open and looked behind me to see the little orange filly poke her head out. “I’ll be down in a moment! I really don’t see why you have to walk me to school...”

“It’s because it’s your first day back. I’d like to talk with your teacher, make sure she knows what’s going on and where I’ll be if she needs me.”

This wasn’t so much worry as forward-thinking. The last thing I wanted was for Scootaloo to have an episode while I wasn't around, making me the one at fault.

“Well, alright...” she said as she walked down the stairs, wearing her saddlebag. “I used to just take my scooter to school, but that’s been lost for a while...”

Lost under a tangled grove of lawn and weeds... I might get it for her before she’s done with school. She’d be able to get herself to class rather quickly and wouldn’t need me.

“I’ll see if I can’t get a hold of one for you, but for now, I think it’d be for the best if I walked you there... Now, do you have everything? Not forgetting any books or—”

“No, I’m good.”

I looked at her for a moment before rolling my shoulders. Either she forgets something, or she’s actually prepared...

Walking over to the front door, I opened it up for her and put on a fake smile. “Alright. Excited to get back to school? See all your friends?”

She smiled back and nodded. “Uh-huh. I’ve been out for a couple of days though, so everypony’s going to be ahead of me...” Scootaloo’s smile went as quickly as it came. “Jeez, I’m probably gonna have like, a mountain of homework.”

Walking out of my home and into the quiet streets of Ponyville, I locked the door and shrugged. “Well... I wasn’t exactly a genius in school, but I’d be more than happy to help you if you need it. All you need to do is ask.”

Scootaloo looked up to me with those big purple eyes again and her smile came back. “Thanks, Daymos. I knew you’d help. You’re such a kind and helpful pony.”

Oh, would you listen to that... Kind. Helpful.

I froze in my tracks. No. It’s only been a few days.

What a joke. Think she’d still be singing that tune if she saw your basement?

“What are you doing back here?” I whispered under my breath.

“What was that?”

Scootaloo looked up to me with a worried expression and I just smiled. “Nothing... Come on. Let’s get you to school before you’re late.” I picked up the pace slightly and trotted ahead with the little filly hot on my heels.

“Coming!”

Just get this day done and over with... I told myself as we walked through the streets. Just get this day done and over with.

* * *

“So you’re the one who’s been watching over Scootaloo...” the mare at the desk said, her authoritative voice digging into me. “I’ve been hoping to talk to you.”

Cheerilee. Out of all the ponies I’ve ever met, she’s the only one I’ve ever been able to call my ‘polar opposite.’

She sees the potential for good in everypony. I just see the potential for evil.

She thinks we can make a better place for everypony if we just work towards it. I make the world a better place for everypony by getting rid of those that work against it.

She thinks that ponies should be forgiven if they do something wrong. I think ponies fit well into garbage bags when sectioned correctly.

“Yes,” I said with a small nod. “I knew her mother and the police asked if she could stay in my custody.”

With a heavy sigh and a small nod, Cheerilee looked to me with an obviously forced smile. “I heard from the police when I talked with them... Now, I’m not going to deny that I’m not okay with somepony I don’t know watching over my student, especially after what she went through.”

Oh great... I get to have this conversation again...

“But, I’m willing to give you some rope.”

Think she’d try to hang you with it if she knew the real you?

“Alright Daymos? Just... Please, take care of Scootaloo.” Cheerilee’s tone changed and she gave me a patient look. “She needs help and somepony to let her know she’s loved. I can’t even begin to understand what she’s going through... Are you sure she wants to be in class today?”

“She woke up when I did this morning,” I said flatly, gritting my teeth slightly. “And said she wanted to go to school today. Who am I to say no?”

“You’re her guardian,” Cheerilee snapped at me, her voice hitting a pitch that made my ears tingle. And from what I heard outside, I wasn’t the only one. Every kid outside who was talking was now very quiet.

She has to teach me how to do that...

“You sometimes need to take charge and let her know that it might be good for her to take some time off.”

“Yes, I understand that Miss Cheerilee... But she also talked about how she wanted to see all her classmates again. So again, who am I to say no? I wasn’t about to sit her down and tell her that I don’t think it’s a good idea to see her friends.”

Her expression slowly softened until she gave me a little grin and sighed aloud.

“Well... Alright. At least your heart’s in the right place. I’ll give you that. Now, is there anything else that I should know about you? Like what you do for a living?”

I leaned forward in my seat and put on my most believable smile. “Oh, nothing much... I just clean things.” And kill ponies in your spare time and bury them under your house. Nothing too serious. “You know, like antiques or clothes with tough stains or anything, really. It’s what I’m good at. I do it all from home, too.”

Cheerilee leaned back in her seat and quietly mimicked my smile. Except she wasn't biting her tongue. “Well, it’s nice to know you have such a... respectable line of work. And who knows?” she said with a shrug. “You might just rub off on her in a good way if she has a figure like you in her life.”

Ooooh, now that’s an idea... Get her into your line of work. How good do you think Scootaloo is with a hacksaw?

Before I could bite through my tongue, she glanced over at the wall and stifled a gasp before getting to her hooves. “Oh, darn... As much as this little impromptu parent-teacher conference has been informative, I've got to start class.”

“I’m glad. Now, Miss Cheerilee, if you’ll excuse me, somepony is waiting for me at Sugarcube Corner. Take care.”

Glad that’s over with...

“Have a nice day, Daymos... Alright class, I’ll be taking roll call soon!”

As if like they were all waiting for those few words, the swarm of fillies and colts who were waiting outside forced their way through, leaving me to wade through them just to get out.

From inside, I could hear Scootaloo call out to me as I closed the door behind me. “I’ll see you later, Daymos!”

“I’ll see you later!” I parroted as I took a moment to gather myself, finally out of the schoolhouse. My skin was practically crawling as several old memories came back.

The smell of chalk, the way everypony sitting behind me would kick my seat, the staring, the constant anxiety about being caught after killing Yardstick.

From the back of my mind, I could hear a low laugh and it set me on edge.

Putting one hoof in front of the other, I made my way down the street, repeating under my breath again and again. “Just get this over with.”

I wasn’t looking forward to whatever Pinkie Pie had planned.

She has this habit of making a big deal over the littlest thing and here I am, going to what I could only expect to be an awkward party for the both of us, thinly disguised as breakfast.

It didn’t take as nearly long as I’d hope it would to get to Sugarcube Corner and as I stood at the door, I couldn’t help but wonder if it would be polite just to turn around and go back home.

But before I could get that far, Pinkie Pie’s voice rang out and nearly made me jump out of my skin.

“DAYMOS! UP HERE!”

I looked around quickly and soon found myself staring up at the bubbly pink mare who was leaning out of the second-story window, holding a spatula, and wearing a chef’s hat. “Come on up! I’m cooking pancakes!”

I couldn’t get a word out before she ducked back inside, making me wonder just what was planned for me.

“Well, at least there isn’t any confetti...” I muttered aloud as I opened the door and made my way for the stairs. I stopped mid-step and did a quick look around the ceiling. “Yet, at least.”

I was dreading to see what Pinkie had planned, but the minute I started up the stairs, the smell hit my nose and my eyes went wide. The inner child in dear old Daymos began to stir, jumping around excitedly as memories from the past began welling up.

“Frying pancake batter... Blueberries... Strawberries... And maple syrup. Sweet stars above, how long has it been?”

Breakfast at Serenity’s.

It’s a rather well-known book that was turned into a play.

And a cafe, created by a fan of both.

My mother would love to go out of town to do her shopping for the day and I’d go with her. And we’d always go for breakfast there. She’d stare dreamily at the posters of Serenity hung around the place while I ate.

Then we’d talk about everything that was going on in our lives, laugh, and just enjoy ourselves.

I honestly can’t remember the last time I’ve had a short stack of pancakes with orange juice and a slice of melon.

“No way...” I stopped in my tracks when I realized something unbelievable; I was smiling. I just couldn’t believe it. I was actually happy and there didn’t have to be somepony bleeding out on a table to make it happen.

As I opened the door, my smile slowly disappeared as I got an eye full of the disaster area that Pinkie was cooking in.

“Oh hi!” she called out excitedly as she flipped a pancake into the air before catching it in the pan. “I had this great idea of cooking us breakfast and just eating it out on the patio! Pretty neat, huh?”

“U-Uhh, yeah...” I said shaken, wondering just how Pinkie managed to get pancake batter on the ceiling and walls. “Bit of trouble with the mixing bowl, I take it?”

Pinkie gave me a weak smile and shrugged. “I was trying my new automatic mixer, but the crazy thing went all loopy on me! I’ve meant to get all cleaned up, but I wanted everything to be ready for when you got here.”

Well, at least she wasn’t flinging it around on purpose...

I watched Pinkie stand in front of the portable range she most likely dragged up to her room, flipping that pancake into the air again and again, catching it with a flourish and giggling the entire time.

I had to say, I was impressed and just a little bit jealous. It took a long time for me to get the kind of manual dexterity that comes in handy when cleaning jewelry — or wielding a knife — and here’s a mare that had the sort of hoof-eye coordination I’d kill for.

“Alrighty!” she exclaimed happily before tossing the latest pancake in the air and onto a stack of at least a dozen others, landing without so much of a hitch. “Breakfast is ready.”

“Uhh... Pinkie? Aren’t you going to get washed up first?”

The bubbly mare stopped in her tracks and gave me a saddened look. “But... But the pancakes will get cold. Can’t we just eat first and then—”

“I’ve got a thing about cleanliness,” I blurted out. “I don’t think I can enjoy myself when your coat’s all matted with drying pancake batter.”

“Ohhhhh... Fine.” Hanging her head and letting out a dejected moan, Pinkie set the pancakes down on the back burner and started to trot towards what looked like her own personal bathroom.

“Just don’t eat any without me, okay?” she says as she lingers in the doorway.

“I won’t. I’ll even put the burner down on low and set them next to it so they stay warm.”

That little sentiment was enough to make Pinkie smile from ear to ear before closing the door behind her. The sound of running water soon followed, leaving me standing inside her room.

“Well, this could have been a lot worse...” I mused under my breath as I looked out at the deck and the set up she prepared. Fresh squeezed orange juice, a fruit salad, and pancakes with all sorts of fillings from blueberries to chocolate chips. “And she did go to a lot of trouble.”

But that’s Pinkie Pie for you. She’s the epitome of ‘if it’s worth doing, it’s worth overdoing’.

All this effort reminded me of when I first met her. She had just moved to Ponyville and I had just gotten comfortable in the fact that no one was going to find Yardstick’s body. I was in the clear.

Now, I had always liked visiting Sugarcube Corner when I had a few extra bits lying around to get myself a donut or some other treat, but I started avoiding the place when Pinkie moved into the upstairs loft.

She was always in my face, trying to get me to play some sort of game or talking so fast I’d wish I had a tape recorder so that I could slow it down and make some sense out of what she was saying.

But one day, Pinkie started getting tired of waiting for me and started dragging me inside so I could be her own little taste taster, trying out all sorts of confectioneries until my teeth and stomach ached equally.

Now, this could have gone much differently if I hadn’t found my moral compass. I hated getting forced into spending time with her and more than once that thought crossed my mind, but something odd happened.

She forced me and cornered me into so many situations with her, I actually found myself starting to enjoy myself from time to time when I was in her company. Then she didn’t need to seek me out. I was stopping by regularly.

So I guess my liking of her is one part of her good mood rubbing off on me and one part Stockhorse Syndrome.

My daydreaming was cut short when I heard the shower get cut abruptly. It didn’t take less than a minute for Pinkie to come prancing out with a cloud of steam following her and sporting a dull pink towel.

And dripping water onto the floor.

“I really hope you don’t mind if I went that extra mile,” Pinkie said idly as she towel-dried herself. “I just got so excited when you said yes to breakfast.”

I pretended not to pay particular attention and let out a hollow laugh. “No, that’s perfectly fine. Don’t worry yourself.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I couldn’t help but notice the way she was looking at me. Like she was waiting for me to look her over.

Oh dear... She better not try and show me her—

“Daymos? Something wrong?”

I shook the errant thought out of my head and laughed weakly. “N-no, not at all... Just a little out of it is all. I’ve usually eaten by now. Shall we?”

“Oh! Sure, sure!” Pinkie said as she bolted for the range. “Here, let’s take this outside!”

I felt my stomach rumble and followed right behind her. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t just a little eager to get something in my stomach. Sitting down at the little table across from her, I grabbed hold of the fork in front of me and took the first two pancakes on the stack.

Pinkie giggled aloud as she watched me get myself squared away and inched a bit closer. “Tell me how I did.”

I put the syrup down and cocked an eyebrow at her before giving her another dry laugh. “You gotta let me taste it before asking that...”

Seriously... Like this isn’t uncomfortable enough... I thought as I brought the fork down, cutting a piece of pancake off, all the while feeling a pair of eyes burn into the side of my face.Seriously, STOP STARING.

Rip her eyes out with that fork. That’ll make her stop.

I closed my eyes, ignoring the advice from it and I took my first bite. Suddenly, the irritation from Pinkie’s incessant staring melted away and I was back in Serenity’s with my mother. Back when everything was so much simpler.

“Well?”

My eyes shifted over to Pinkie and my smile faded a bit. “It’s good,” I said plainly. “Very good. Excellent job.”

Pinkie’s eyes lit up and she clapped her hooves together excitedly. “Great!”

I tried to focus on my breakfast, but it wasn’t easy when I was still getting the third degree.

“So, what’chya been up to as of lately, Daymos?” she asked as she pulled a couple of pancakes onto her plate. “Cause from what I’ve heard, you got another mouth to feed at your place. Got a friend over or something?”

News travels fast...

“Yeah, I do. Scootaloo, to be precise. Know her, I take it?”

“Wait, Scoots? What are you doing watching her for?” she asked, cocking her head slightly. “What’s going on?”

I set aside my fork and took a deep breath. I wasn’t in the mood to give the full story again, but from the way that Pinkie was looking at me, I wouldn’t be able to leave without telling her.

“Remember Honeysuckle?” I asked calmly. “She and I knew each other. I wouldn’t go as far as to say we were good friends...”

Or knew each other at all, whatsoever... I thought as I reached for the pitcher of orange juice.

“But we were acquaintances. So when she passed I—”

“You needed to go see how Scootaloo was doing,” Pinkie finished for me before her eyes drifted down to her plate. “And now you’re her guardian or something. Makes sense now... How’s she doing?”

“I, uh... Yeah. I did see how she was doing. How’d you know?”

Pinkie waved a hoof and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter... Now come on, tell me how Scootaloo is doing. She must be so sad right about now and I wanna know if there’s anything I can do.”

She’s hiding something. If you leap across the table, you can put that knife to her throat and she’ll sing like a well-trained canary.

I leaned forward a bit, pushing my plate to the side. “Tell me how you knew first. I never said anything about it to anypony other than the police.”

I could hear Pinkie Pie swallow the lump in her throat quite clearly before she let out a nervous laugh. “I, uh... Well, don’t be mad or anything,” she started, blushing slightly. “But I followed you a bit after you ran off. I got waaaaay too curious, and well... I lost you after a bit, but then I saw you running by with Scootaloo, and well, I kinda put two and two together.”

A chill went down my spine as soon as the words ‘followed you’ hit my ear.

In my line of work, I’m the one who’s stalking. Not the other way around. The fact that she was able to follow me at all without my knowledge was frightening.

“I gotta say though; it was pretty amazing to see you running down the street with Scootaloo on your back. It was like something out of an action movie or something.”

The fact that she was so innocent almost got rid of any of my fears, though. Almost.

“Y-Yeah. I, uh... I guess it was,” I said weakly. “Still, I was just doing what I needed to.”

Action movie, huh? More like the start of a B rated horror movie.

“Now come on, tell me how Scootaloo’s doing. I heard she was in the hospital.”

I nodded slowly as I picked up my fork and turned my attention back to my breakfast. “Yes, she was hypoglycemic. I can’t go into much of the details, since I don’t think the police would like that, but she’s doing much better. Her emotions have been all over the place, though. At first, she’s happy, then she gets sad, and then—”

“Uh, hello? Umm, is anypony there? Pinkie? Mrs. Cake? Mr. Cake?”

Pinkie and I both looked to each other before looking down at the street below and saw a nervous little white filly pacing around nervously. “Expecting more company?” I asked aloud.

“Huh... Sweetie Belle?” Pinkie answered, leaning over the balcony. “What’chya doing here? Shouldn’t you be at school? You’re not playing hooky, are ya?”

The little unicorn’s eyes shot up and she started dancing around frantically. “No! No, not that. Umm, is there a stallion there? I think his name was Dayglow... Daytime...”

I let out a long sigh and propped my head up with a hoof. “Is it Daymos?”

“Yeah! That’s it! Daymos!” Sweetie Belle yelled out, nodding quickly. “Cheerilee said he was gonna be here! I’m supposed to bring him back to the schoolhouse! You know him, mister?”

“I’ll be right down.”

I had a bad feeling right down in the pit of my stomach. Something happened with Scootaloo and Cheerilee was going to hang me with that rope she gave me just this morning.

“Does this mean breakfast is over already?” Pinkie asked. She wasn’t making any attempt to hide her disappointment and was waiting for me to say something to make her feel better.

“I, uh... Yeah. I guess it is. Sorry.”

Her lip quivered and she looked down at the table.

That’s not exactly what she wants to hear. Try again or you’ll have a headache on your hooves. Just don’t mess it up.

“But there’s always tomorrow,” I blurted out, already wishing I kept my mouth shut. “Do you wanna try again? Tomorrow?”

Pinkie’s eyes lit up and she was wearing a smile I could only describe as ‘manic.’ “Yes! Certainly! I’ll have something oh so great for tomorrow morning! The same time sounds good, right?”

“Yeah. Sounds good. I’ll see you then, Pinkie...”

“See ya then!” she called out happily through a mouthful of pancake.

I wasn’t even halfway through the door when the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end and I heard it again.

Oh great... You weren’t supposed to mess it up. But look, now you’re in for another pointless date... Why do you even pretend to be normal? You could kill her, you know. One quick thrust of the knife and—

“Shut. Up.” I hissed, not wanting to picture what it was about to describe.

Why fight it? You’d enjoy it. You’d enjoy every second of it.

I took another deep breath and made my way down the stairs, pushing the thoughts to the back of my mind — all the while it was gnawing its way through. Composing myself, I walked out of Sugarcube Corner and looked down at the little filly.

“Now tell me. What’s wrong?”

The little filly froze and looked up at me with a face I knew all too well. “I-I-I... It’s umm... S-Scootaloo. She, um... S-she got into a fight and well...”

I ran a hoof down my face and groaned aloud. “Alright... Alright. Let’s go.”

Sweetie Belle nodded quickly and started trotting ahead of me, glancing behind her back every so often to make sure I was still following her.

See that look in her eye? She knows. She might not know it on a conscious level, but her instincts tell her she’s looking at a predator.

I’d never hurt a child. They’re innocent. They’ve done nothing wrong. Now BE QUIET.

I looked up at the sun and let out a long, heavy sigh. It was only just creeping up on noon.

“Well, umm... Here we are, Mister D-Daymos,” Sweetie Belle said nervously. “I’m gonna go now.”

I tried to open my mouth and stop her, but she was already bounding off to the playground before I could even get a word in. Looking up at the schoolhouse for the second time that day, I steeled myself and walked up to the door and into the classroom, only to be greeted by four sets of eyes just staring at me.

Cheerilee, who obviously wasn’t happy.

Scootaloo, who quickly looked to the ground to try and hide the visible bruise on her cheek.

A young, grey colt with a black eye who was doing his best not to cry.

And finally, a mare dressed in business attire who I could only guess was his mother.

“Today is just not my day...”

* * *

I didn’t like anything about what was happening. I tried not to look back at the fiasco that had just happened, but it was impossible.

First, Cheerilee yelled at me for not thinking about talking to Scootaloo about her feelings and how she should deal with them over the loss of her mother.

Like you’re a shining example of coping.

Next, I’m told that Scootaloo punched a colt by the name of Rumble square in the face during an argument they had. Her reason?

“He made a joke about my mom,” Scootaloo had said defiantly during the second teacher conference of the day. “What was I supposed to do?”

Maybe you can teach her how to use a knife? You know, channel all that anger and frustration into something constructive.

And when we finally got home, I knew if I didn’t do something, it would just happen again and again. Her words still echoed in my ears.

“What’dya mean I’m grounded?!?” she wailed. “You’re the worst!”

Hey, at least she’s starting to pick up on the obvious.

And finally... The Whisper was back sooner than expected.

I reclined back in bed and stared up at the ceiling. The sun and long since set and I had been doing whatever I could to keep the Whisper quiet, but it wasn’t helping. It was still there.

That kid’s mom said so much about you when she was talking with Cheerilee. She thought you couldn’t hear her. She said you were a disgrace. A sad excuse for a parent. She even wants to press charges. Your tools are nice and clean, ready for her.

The Whisper has been with me for so long.

It all started a couple of months after the episode with Yardstick. It started first as nightmares. Vivid dreams of beating in Yardstick’s head with the shovel again and again. Every night for a week. I almost ran to the police and confessed, just to make it stop.

But then it changed. It went from Yardstick to another pony. A bully at school. Only this time, I wasn’t using a shovel. I was stabbing him again and again, laughing as he begged for mercy.

Then it changed again, only this time it was the stallion next door who beat his wife. And this time, I wasn’t stabbing him. I was dragging the knife along his throat, watching him gasp and gurgle before hitting the ground into a puddle of his own blood.

A month straight of nightmares. And then they stopped.

Only for a voice to come out one day and tell me that the mare next door, who was always being beaten, was in the hospital. And that the stallion was home alone.

I told myself the entire time I was doing the right thing, just like with Yardstick. I was getting rid of somepony who was hurting others. But it was different that time. I had something sitting on my shoulder, giddily guiding darling Daymos to his next kill.

And I won’t deny that I enjoyed it. I enjoyed every second of making Mr. Potter pay for the pain he had inflicted. I enjoyed the way he looked at me as he bled out, not sure that it was real; that his next-door neighbor held the knife that just sealed his fate.

But as much as I enjoyed it, the Whisper enjoyed it tenfold. And it wanted more. It’s always wanted more.

Come on. Let’s go. The little harlot is going to get you arrested if you don’t do anything.

I knew that wasn’t true, but I got to my hooves anyway. Cheerilee talked with Rumble’s mother and explained the situation and she apologized to me. Still, the Whisper knew how to push my buttons.

I walked out of my room and stood in front of Scootaloo’s door before knocking.

“Scootaloo?”

There was nothing but silence for a moment. “Yeah? What’dya want?”

Her voice was so indignant. She was mad. It didn’t help that I wasn’t in the best of moods today and every part of me was like a rubber band; stretched and waiting to snap.

“Listen, I know you’re mad...”

That’s an understatement and you know it. She trusted you. But hey, it just goes to show what happens when a pony trusts you... A knife in the back.

I leaned against the door and tried my best to ignore the Whisper. “But I’m new at this. I’ve never taken care of a kid before. Can you please just look at it through my eyes first? Before you condemn me as ‘the worst’?”

There was nothing, except the thick blanket of silence that seemed to start to smother me, with only the Whisper to make it worse.

Why are you even trying? She’s just—

“I... I don’t think you’re the worst. You just... You just don’t understand.”

Well, at least she’s talking to me again... But...

“Alright then. Why don’t you make me understand?”

The silence returned like a stalker in the night and my curiosity got the better of me. I opened the door just a crack and looked in, only to see her curled up in a ball, looking to the wall next to her bed. She took a deep breath and let out a sob.

“My mom, she’s... She’s gone. And I don’t think she’d like it if she was being made fun of when she can’t even stand up for herself. So what was I supposed to do?”

Now I could fully wrap my head around Scootaloo’s action. Cheerilee thought it was anger that drove her to punch out Rumble. She didn’t stop and think for a moment that maybe, she was trying to protect somepony who couldn’t defend themselves anymore.

You and her have a lot more in common than you thought. Better keep an eye on her, or you might just have some competition.

I kept trying to push the Whisper back down and opened the door all the way and locked eyes with Scootaloo. “I think your mother would be quite happy knowing she raised such a... noble child. But Cheerilee doesn’t think that kind of behavior is appropriate, despite your argument.” She nodded slowly, wiping away her tears. I stepped in, walking over to the crying little filly and sat down at the foot of her bed. “Now, I think we do have to have a conversation about the ‘appropriate’ response and the ‘accepted’ response when it comes to things like this. But I think you know that now, don’t you?”

Scootaloo nodded quickly and even managed a little smile before shifting around on the spot. “Yeah... So, umm... Does this mean I’m still grounded or...?”

I shook my head and actually laughed for a change. “No. I don’t see the point in making you stay in your room for something like this.”

Good. She’s fine. Now maybe I can leave here knowing she’s not going to do something stupid. I need to clear my head.

I got to my hooves and lingered in the doorway. “There’s that pizza still in the fridge. You do know how to use the toaster oven, right?”

“Y-yeah. Why?” she asked, perking up slightly. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

“I was going out for a little bit, for a walk, don’t worry. I was going to be gone for about an hour or so and I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be hungry.”

“Oh. Well, alright then...” She said as I started walking away, only to stop me mid-stride. “Why are you going for a walk, anyway?”

“Well, the sun was setting and I do enjoy a good moonlight stroll,” I said with a shrug. “Don’t worry, okay? Just try and relax for a bit. The radio is in the living room if you want to listen to that. Just not too loud, okay?”

A genuine smile graced her lips for a change. “Okay. See ya in a bit, Daymos.”

Aww, would you look at that? One big happy family... Wonder how long it will last.

I let out a heavy breath and made my way down the stairs and out the front door, Luna’s moon just starting to peek over the horizon and blanket the sky.

The Whisper was practically chewing on the back of my neck and all I could hope for was a good, long walk would help keep it quiet for a bit. Still, I knew what I was going to have to do sooner rather than later.

I have to kill somepony...

Now you’re talking.

**************************************************************

I went for a lot of walks when I was a kid, hoping that it would clear my head and make the Whisper go away. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t.

And this night was starting to look it was going to fall under the latter.

For every pony I passed, for every face I looked into, a thousand different ways I could end their lives flashed before my eyes until I was on the outskirts of town and looking out onto the lake. To the passerby, I was admiring the lake as it shimmered in the moonlight, but in reality, I was having a silent conversation.

I’m probably going to have to go out of town for my next kill. I thought I’d be set for the next couple of months, but obviously, I was wrong. And there’s no way I’m risking another kill here.

Oh and why not? It’s not like anypony ever notices anything in this town. And even if they did...

A known felon is a bag of liquid in my basement, there’s been a suicide here, and it’s gotten the police all riled up. I’m not risking it. I’m just going to check my black book.

Oh come on... The book is BORING! No spontaneity, nothing special. Not like that banker you almost choked to death. Admit it. You had more fun with him then you’ve had in a long time.

...Yes, I’ll admit it. I had fun with it. I brought him down a notch or two. But it was also risky. He could have gone to the police at any time and he still could.

I let out a groan and dragged my front hooves down my face.

“Everything’s so complicated now, why are you back? Why... Why is that pony dragging a garbage bag down to the lake?”

The Whisper went quiet, just as curious as I was, even more so. It had a right to be. This pony was so out of place. They were wearing way too many layers of clothing, with one of them being what looked like a skin-tight black suit underneath their grey hooded sweatshirt. Whoever they were, they didn’t want to be seen.

Let’s go say hi.

I found myself getting to my hooves and walking towards them. Step by step, I kept feeling like it was a bad idea and that I should just sit by and watch. Still, it wouldn’t hurt just to go over and meet them. It would quickly get rid of the niggling feeling the Whisper was pushing on me.

“Well, good evening!” I called out to them, hoping to get their attention. “How are you toni—”

I barely got halfway through the sentence before they turned on a dime and bolted off, faster than any pony I’d ever seen, leaving their garbage bag behind. Not once did I get a look at their face. I didn’t even know if they were a stallion or mare.

As I watched them gallop towards town, I felt the Whisper almost hiss in my ear.

Look in the bag.

I turned to the garbage bag, the Whisper pushing me forwards and almost driving my actions. But it was just a silent witness, nothing more. I was looking in more for my own curiosity than anything.

I undid the knot and opened it up only for my eyes to go wide and a strangled laugh to pass my lips.

A body. A stallion’s body.

With a white mane, grey coat, and lifeless blue eyes looking into mine. And each part sectioned carefully, piece by piece. And without a drop of blood to be seen.

I knew exactly what it all meant.

It’s like Hearth’s Warming Eve early.

There was another killer in Ponyville. And this one was a professional.

If you leave the body, somepony will stick their nose where it doesn’t belong and get the police on this one’s trail. Unless you want to share, get rid of the body.

I looked around quickly, making sure I wasn’t being watched and started to tie the bag up again, only to stop. A hair out of place. One that didn’t belong to the victim. One that was a dull, faded red in the moonlight.

I wasn’t sure and I didn’t have all night to look. Nor did I want to touch it.

Not without protection, at least. I didn't know where this pony had been.

In a few tense moments, I had the bag near the water’s edge and fished up a few stones before unceremoniously dumping them into the bag, weighing it down enough to sink.

I learned the hard way early on why you have to put weights in a bag with a body. Not a mistake I was eager to repeat.

With everything ready, I tied the bag back up and gave it one good, hard toss. Enough to keep it hidden for quite a while, giving me all the time I needed.

All sorts of thoughts crossed my mind as I made my way back home. The supplies I’d need. The fact my blades needed sharpening. But there was something else. Something that excited me.
Something new... Something spontaneous. Something fun.

And from the corners of my mind, the Whisper laughed excitedly, knowing that this was going to be precisely what it wanted.

And I smiled.

Because I wanted it, too.

Chapter 8: Surprise

I find the quickest way to solve a problem is to deal with it directly. And if it all possible, lashed to a table so it can be picked apart piece by piece. However, I didn’t exactly have that luxury with the problem before me. All I could do was sit in my chair and stare at the wall.

Fetlock Holmes once said, “A pony should keep his little brain attic stocked with all the furniture that he is likely to use, and the rest he can put away in the lumber-room of his library where he can get it if he wants.”

So it was time to do a little mental spring cleaning.

Bringing myself up on the couch and stretching out, I let out a long sigh and closed my eyes and turned inwards to the storm that was currently my mind.

When is Scootaloo going to be home? Is Big Wig going to call the police? Does Tumbler have any family? Will they look for him? Did I make sure to get rid of every trace of myself at the Carousel Boutique? What about Twilight? What does she know? What is she doing?

With a heavy sigh, I concentrated and started to quiet the louder thoughts, leaving only the little ones.

Do I have enough groceries for the week? Are my knives sharp for what’s to come? Does Scootaloo suspect anything?

With the louder thoughts out of the way, it left me with only a few niggling things that were quickly brushed away. And like the calm after the storm, there was only one thought left in my head.

Who was trying to dump the body at the lake?

There it was, plain as day now that the rest of the noise was gone. And everything was clear.

The smell of water coming off of the lake, the way the light of the stars and the moon bounced off of the water’s surface, the sound a garbage bag sliding across the wet grass.

I was there again I was-

“Daymos, I’m home!”

Like a nail against a chalkboard, I was dragged as quickly from my zen-like state as I entered it by a bouncing orange filly who didn’t have much care for noise level. Still, I had to put on my best smile and act like a responsible guardian.

“Welcome home, Scootaloo. How was school?” I asked with feigned interest as I sat up. “Learn anything interesting?”

“Yeah, we learned about all sorts of ponies in history and had a presentation on important Equestrian figures in history.”

“Ohhh well, tell you what. You can tell me all about them while I get dinner ready. Summer salad sound good?”

Scootaloo nodded and I got to my hooves with just a little bit of a sigh. I was comfortable and in the zone, but not anymore.

“So why don’t you tell me about these important ponies in history?” I asked aloud as I grabbed a hoofful of tomatoes. Going for the knife drawer, I pulled out one of the bigger knives and turned my attention to the kitchen counter.

“Well...” she began, “There’s Summer Song, one of the first ponies to perform at the Redreach Canyon Orchestra with the griffons and then there’s Lightning Mane who was..”

Everything else became white noise as the blade dropped down on the first tomato, sending red juices spilling over my hoof. Such a familiar feeling that sent a shiver of excitement down my spine.

It’d feel even better if it was that mystery pony...

I felt a smile creep across my face and I idly agreed aloud. “Mmmhm...”

Now concentrate while the little brat is distracted. You opened the bag and there it was: Jenga in pony form. All that bloodless, clean looking meat. And there’s a hair in there. What color is the hair?

Red.

Try again.

Magenta.

Warmer.

My eyes went wide for a moment as it crossed my mind and I could almost hear the Whisper clapping.

Pink.

There it was, plain as day — a dull-pink hair sitting in the garbage bag. There was no more doubt. I was 100% sure of what I saw.

Good. Now assuming it was a mare and not a stallion with a dye job, you just cut the possible killer list by 50%.

There are plenty of pink mares in Ponyville still, so I got my work cut out for me... I think I’ll need to-

“Daymos? There’s somepony at the door.”

I brought the knife down one final time and looked up, pulled from my thoughts again. “Can you get the door, please?”

“Umm... Okay,” Scootaloo said as she got to her hooves. Looking down at my hooves, I realized just how close I was to cutting through bone and not tomato. Setting aside the finely sliced fruit and moving on to the next, I did my best to put on a happy face as the door opened.

“How can I help-” My voice died in my throat. “Pinkie Pie? W... What are you doing here?”

Without even asking, the pink mare stepped inside, wearing a wide grin that stretched from ear to ear. “Ohhh, you know... Nothing much. Just stopping by to see how my favorite stallion is doing!”

You never did tell her where you lived. She followed you. Something’s wrong here.

“Well... I’m alright. Just working on dinner now. Summer salad.”

“Oooh~ Sounds good,” she said with that same smile. “I was actually hoping you could help me with something a little important... How good are you with porcelain? I got a little thing from my Grandma Pie and it’s got a little crack in it. I was hoping you would know how to fix it.”

I’m telling you, something’s off! LISTEN TO ME, DAMN IT! She doesn’t call her-

“Well, it depends on the age, but I think I can take a look at it. It might take some time, but I’d be happy to do it.”

The smile never changed on her face and now I felt something off. It’s like her eyes were staring right through me and it sent a shiver down my spine.

“Great! I’ll bring it over in a bit, sound good?”

I stared right back, but before I could answer, her attention turned to Scootaloo. “Oh, I almost forgot! Sweetie Belle and Applebloom stopped by the shop and asked me to tell you to meet them at the clubhouse.”

Scootaloo cocked her head to one side. “Huh? Weird, I saw them not too long ago and they didn’t say-”

“It was after you had left. I said I was going to see Daymos here and you and they asked me to tell you to meet them at the clubhouse. Something about an upcoming bake-sale or something... Okay?”

With that same smile, she brought herself down to Scootaloo’s level and now she felt something off.

“Umm... Uh, okay... Daymos? Do you mind if I go now? I’ll be back in time for dinner, I promise.” Scootaloo was already grabbing her saddlebag, so I simply shrugged. “Keep an eye on the time and don’t be out after dark, okay?”

Quit acting like some sort of concerned parent, there’s seriously something wrong here! ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?!?

With a smile and a nod, Scootaloo bounded out the door. “Alright, I will! Bye Daymos, bye Pinkie!”

“Goodbye!” Pinkie called back. The door closed and her eyes fixed on me. “Mind if I use your bathroom before I go? I had just a little too much soda before I came here.” She let out a laugh that finally got my attention.

It was dry and... emotionless. Something I was familiar with. My eyes narrowed slightly, but dear old Daymos kept the same dreamy smile. “Sure it’s-”

My breath caught in my throat as she went to the basement. “No, that’s not it,” I called out. But she didn’t hear me or didn’t care, because the door was open. I forgot to lock it.

She looked down into the darkness for a few seconds and cocked her head. “Ohhh, silly me... Wrong door.” She started to close it, much to my relief, but it was short-lived.

“What’s that down there?”

I blinked a few times in confusion. “What’s what?”

“There. Down at the foot of the stairs? Come on over. It’s right there.”

Don’t do it.

Finally, I decided to listen to the Whisper. “It’s probably nothing, maybe a rat or something... come on, I’ll show you where the bathroom is.”

A single step down the stairs was enough to send my heart racing and for me to ignore the Whisper’s pleas. “No, it’s not that, it’s bigger... Like, a lot bigger...”

Something pulled at me and I got to my hooves. My sanctuary was being invaded. “I’m telling you, there’s nothing down there,” I said as I joined her side. “There’s nothing-”

I didn’t even have a second to react. A hoof on my back, a little shove, and I was sent tumbling down the stairs. I tried to break my fall, but I still dropped before hitting the concrete landing with an audible thud and a moan.

“Ohhh, my mistake,” a new voice called from the top of the stairs. “It’s just you.”

The click of the lock turning and I knew right then and there I needed to get up and move. Glancing up to the top of the stairs just in time, I saw her leap down at me with outstretched hooves. I tumbled out of the way and made it my hooves shakily. There, standing before me, wasn’t the bubbly mare that I was used to.

Her hair and mane were dull and lifeless. Her pupils merely pinpricks as she stared at me with a look I knew all too well. But it was that smile. That same, plastic smile she wore when she first showed up made my hair stand up on end.

She and I simply stared at each other, circling my workshop like two wolves, ready to pounce.

“Nice place you got here,” the not so Pinkie thing in front of me said. “Now tell me, what’s a cleaner colt like you need all these knives for?”

My mouth felt dry, but I managed to croak out an answer. “They’re, uhh... They’re for a client. Now Pinkie, I-”

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped. It was quick, direct, and sharp. Almost as sharp as the knives in question she kept ogling. She picked one of the serrated blades up idly and, to my surprise, spun it around her hoof in such a manner that made me a little jealous. The back of the blade rolled across her wrist, and in one quick little motion, she bounced it into the air and snatched it up.

“Now stay still.”

I snapped out of wonder as her gaze turned back to me and I just couldn’t obey her request in good health or conscience while she had that look in her eye. She lunged towards me and slashed at empty air. I had already dived under the table and used it as a barrier.

“I! TOLD! YOU! STAY! STILL!” she cried out, punctuating each word with a knife swing that was getting closer and closer to its mark.

Behind you. Grab it, now.

I reached out blindly behind me, hoping the Whisper wasn’t trying to end me.

“AH! SON OF A...” My hoof stung in pain as I continued to grope, having found the knife of the blade, but not the handle. Whipping the blade in front of my face, I managed a small smile as I held out the 8-inch butcher’s knife.

“Gryphon steel, don’t fail me now...” I half prayed, holding the knife out, pointing it at the mare I thought I knew so well.

She was the first to stab again, swinging low towards my stomach. I jumped back and slashed downwards, hoping spear her hoof, but she pulled it back to quickly.

“Hah!” she cried out with that same creepy smile. “Gotta be quicker than-”

My free hoof connected with the side of her face and sent her reeling. “FUCKER!” she cried out, cradling her nose. “GET THE FUCK OVER HERE SO I CAN SKIN YOU!”

In a scream of anger and rage, she dashed forward on her hind legs and started jabbing and swinging at me. “You’re good,” she remarked as matter-of-factly as she could as if we were talking over tea. I kept quiet and let the Whisper direct me.

Your left. Right now. She’s telegraphing that attack. It’s coming down from overhead. Now strike!

True to the Whisper’s word, Pinkie left herself wide open. And I could have quickly brought the knife up and killed her right then and there. But I hesitated.

I hesitated.

Despite the twisted face of rage and the drip of blood coming from her nose, she was still Pinkie Pie. And I couldn’t do it.

And I paid for it.

Kicking herself forward, Pinkie tackled into me and sent me falling backward. My knife was knocked from my hoof and she straddled my chest.

“Perfect...” she almost purred, her voice dripping with malice. “Now, how’s that little rhyme go...”

Too bad it was too far away to grab while she sat on me.

“Oh yeah... ‘Snitches get stitches and wind up in ditches.’” Pinkie was positively giggling by now. “This will teach you to stick your nose in where it doesn’t belong...”

Stall her! TALK! DO SOMETHING!

“I... I... I didn’t snitch, I swear. If anything, I helped you.”

Pinkie’s eyes said curious, but the knife she raised above her head said ‘Daymos’ day to die.’

“I got rid of the body.”

Her eyes now said surprise and she faltered.

“No way... Why? Why on earth would a good little colt like you get rid of a body? Tell me... Why haven’t you gone to the police?”

I leaned back and laughed. An honest to goodness laugh. All I could do was chuckle out the words, “Come closer and I’ll tell you.”

This is my only chance...

Pinkie leaned in an inch further. And I beckoned her again. Waiting for the right moment.

By now, she was at least three inches away from my face.

Do it.

“Now tell me wh-”

Grabbing onto Pinkie’s shoulders, I slammed my forehead into her face as hard as I could, eliciting several curses and a steady flow of blood from her nose.

“YOU BASTARD!” she screamed as she stumbled backward.

Scrambling for my knife, I grabbed hold of it and turned on her.

Kill her! DO IT NOW OR SHE’LL KILL YOU! IT’S THE ONLY WAY!

Still a little stunned, Pinkie didn’t even have a second to react when I pounced on her, making sure to bounce her head off the cold, hard floor.

Her grip on the knife loosened and I didn’t hesitate to fling it aside, leaving her defenseless.

I brought the knife to her throat, every bit of me intended to end it there, but again, I couldn’t. Not with so many questions left unanswered. The biggest one on my mind was the first to pass my lips.

“Now tell me. What the hell is going on, Pinkie? How did you end up like this?”

A smile through what looked like a lot of pain was all I got from her. I brought the knife as close to her throat without cutting flesh.

“Out of all the ponies... You... How?”

She looked at me and her smile got wider. “Pinkamena.”

That’s all she said.

“Pinkamena?”

“That’s my name... Pinkie’s not here right now, please leave a message after the beep.”

JUST. KILL. HER. She tried to kill you! Do it!

“You’re not making any sense... Pinkamena. Start talking straight.”

The dull pink mare rolled her eyes and shrugged. “Fine... How do I put this? While the cat’s away, the mice will play. Here’s something else; You can’t kill me without killing Pinkie Pie. And you’re too good-”

I shook her slightly and made sure she remembered right where the knife was. “I could kill you and Pinkie Pie right now and I’d only lose a single night’s sleep. And that’s because I’d have to go to great lengths to make sure that nopony would be the wiser that you were gone.”

Her smile finally falters for a second and Pinkie’s face contorts into one of true confusion. “Holy shit, you’re not kidding... Wait, if you’re not kidding...” The smile came back and a chill went down my spine. “You’re not a good little colt, are you? You’re naughty. Just like me.”

“Well... You’re not wrong, but...”

She knows what you are. Kill her now, you dolt! QUIT TALKING!

“...but stop dancing around my question. Who or... What are you?”

“Well... I think it’s like this... I know about Pinkie, but she doesn’t know about me. The only time when I get to play is when she’s not around.”

I blinked a few times in confusion. It sounded like multiple personality disorder. I read about it in a story but had thought it was nothing but a writer’s fancy.

“Basically, Pinkie and I are two sides of the same coin. And if you do anything to me, you’re doing it to her.”

My head was swimming by now. “She’s... Asleep? Alright... But... Why are you trying to kill me?”

“Simply put? You saw me. And I thought you had already gone to the police... I wanted the only witness gone.”

The way she said it, plain as day was so... Cold and calculating. It reminded me of someone. Me. Then she pulled out something else that made me reel.

“So tell me, how many ponies have you killed? Be honest. I’m dying to know if you’ve beat my record.”

My heart raced in my chest and my mouth started to open to answer.

Don’t tell her. For the love that all is holy, listen to me! She’s going to run off and use whatever you tell her-

“How far back we going here? I killed one last week. All in all though? I think... fifty. Fifty or so.”

I didn’t know why I was telling her, but... It felt good. It felt good to brag for a change.

Pinkamena’s face changed. Her eyes lit up and a more... softer smile adorned her face. “Ohhh nice! You got me beat, that’s for sure. I’m actually a little jealous... And turned on.”

I went limp for a second, not knowing how to respond to that. All I could do was stutter and stammer like an idiot.

“Umm... Uh... I, uh... T-Thank you?” I said with a nervous chuckle. “I’ve... Never really met anyone who’s approved of my... work.”

Things went quiet for an awkward moment so to break it, I brought up the thing that made us meet.

“I... I like what you did with the stallion. The cuts were so clean and neat. And how did you drain the blood? There wasn’t a drop anywhere.”

Pinkamena smiled at me in a way I could only define as ‘sultry.’ “Tell you what... Help a girl back up and I’ll tell you.”

The whisper growled from the back of my mind, but it was wrong this time. I just knew it.

“And you promise not to try and kill me again?”

“Only if you give me a reason to.” Her tongue ran across her upper lip, licking up a little blood. “Besides, you’re way too much fun.”

I waited a second and slowly stepped off of her. She looked up to me and actually smiled in a way that didn’t strike me as unnatural. She seemed... Happy.

“I hang them upside down,” she finally said.

“What?”

“I hang ponies upside down, slit their throat and let gravity do the work.”

“That’s...”

So many words floated through my mind, so many images. I wanted to slap myself upside the head for not thinking of that before, but instead, I just chuckled.

“That’s smart. I’ve been trying to get a hold of a mortician’s pump, myself. Something that could let me easily drain the blood with a flip of a switch. But that is just a smart, simple solution. Bravo.”

Pinkamena let out a little giggle and kicked the ground idly. “Oh shucks, you know how to make a girl blush, don’t you Daymos? Not like Winter. Ugh!”

She practically gagged as the name left her mouth, prompting me to ask. “Winter? You mean...”

“The pony in the bag. Asshole tried to rape me on my way home and Pinkie blacked out in fear when he pulled the knife. It was a spur of the moment thing, but I managed to get him to my basement where I had all the fun I wanted with him.”

Pinkamena punctuated the sentence with a wink and I could feel myself melting.

“So, Pinkamena... Where do we go from here?” I finally managed to strangle out. “Because I thought you had plans for me.”

She circled me like a hungry shark, her eyes running up and down my body. “Depends... What did you have in mind? This girl’s bored after all and Pinkie is going to be out until morning. Dumping your body into the lake was supposed to be my entire night.”

“Well, how about we head upstairs and I treat you to dinner before I see you out?” I asked, putting on a plastic smile. “End our night on a high note. Sound fair enough?”

Pinkamena shrugged and motioned for the stairs but stopped short. “Oh! Speaking of fair...”

I didn’t have much time to react when she grabbed hold of me, pushing me onto my back hooves. She held me there and I looked into her eyes. She fluttered her eyelashes and leaned in close. All I could do was sputter out a few words and try to walk back. “What are-”

My jaw clenched and my world went white for a second as a knee was brought between my legs, making me gasp out in pain.

“That’s for striking a lady,” she said, letting me go and falling to the floor. “I’ll see you upstairs.”

I curled up in a ball and made my best effort not to throw up as I regained my composure.

That should sum up everything that’s going to happen to you if you don’t call this off now. Grab a knife and end this.

“She just does not play fair,” I mumbled under my breath. Shaking it off and making my way up the stairs, I let out a little laugh. “Still, better than at each other’s throats with knives...”

“There’s that!” Pinkamena called out, holding the door open. “Oh come on, don’t be such a big baby. I didn’t hit you that hard.”

I grumbled under her breath and she cocked an eyebrow at me. “Want me to kiss it and make it all better?”

I felt my face go red and shook my head quickly. “No, you do not have to kiss it!” I cried out.

Pinkamena shrugged her shoulders. “Your loss. Onto a more brighter subject, tell me... Got any good kill stories? I got a few myself.”

I rolled my shoulders. “I don’t know... I mean, I’ve had a few squirm on my table and say some things...”

“Oh come on, big strong stallion like you don’t know how to make somepony squirm with a knife to their throat?” Pinkamena giggled. “Maybe I was wrong about you.”

She and I sat down onto the couch and I felt my eyes narrow. “I’ve got plenty of stories.”

Pinkamena leaned in and mouthed two words. “Prove it.”

And prove it I did.

* * *

Scootaloo had long since returned, claiming that her friends never showed up. I consoled her with a bowl of summer salad and told her it’d been a long day. She agreed and went to her room for the night.

Meanwhile, ‘Pinkie Pie’ said she was sorry she didn’t see her friends and that Scootaloo could come over for a cupcake whenever she wanted.

As soon as I heard the door close upstairs, I turned to the now rather dull pink mare in front of me and shook my head.

“How in Equestria do you do that?” I asked, referring to her sudden change in appearance.

“To be honest, I’m not entirely sure myself... All I know is that if I act all ‘happy and sunshiney~’” she said, propping her head up with her hooves and putting on a huge smile. And much to my surprise, a bright pink coat and poofy pink hair. “Then I’m lovable ol’ Pinkie Pie.”

And as quickly as it came, her smile disappeared and her hair fell flat. “So maybe it’s a force of mind thing, I don’t know. Now come on, you were telling me about the stallion you scared to death!”

I laughed and put a hoof up to my mouth. “Shh! I don’t know if Scootaloo’s fallen asleep yet, so you gotta keep it down.” Although, it’s not like I was doing a better job. I kept breaking out into a fit of giggles every time I tried to start the story.

“W-Well... I told you my mother was killed,” I said below a whisper. “I decided to track down the son of a bitch who did it and I found him in New Colt City. He thought he was so safe and that he had gotten away with it.”

Pinkamena was so enchanted with my stories. She was hanging on every word I said. And I loved it.

“But I managed to find him after bribing a few bar patrons and drugged him in an alleyway the next night. I had him strapped to a table underneath an ancient building and I had plans. Beautifully, bloody plans.”

Pinkamena visibly shivered with excitement. “Go on.”

“I was going to make him watch as his own heart was ripped out.”

I said it plain as day. It was the first time anypony heard what I had planned to do that day. Even more, what actually happened.

“I made sure to place the scalpel on his chest and tell him ‘You’re going to die here. You’re going to die this way. All by my h-’.”

I stopped short and Pinkamena leaned forward.

“That’s when he went limp and stopped moving,” I said with a huge grin. “The bastard had a heart attack.”

Pinkamena’s jaw dropped and she started letting out a howl of laughter until she brought her hooves to her mouth, forcing it shut.

“That’s... That’s... That’s beautiful!” she managed to croak out. “I mean, not as beautiful as ripping out a pony’s heart and showing them, but still... You managed to scare somepony literally to death! Oh Daymos, you really know how to push all the right buttons.”

That’s when something odd happened. I felt a blush creep up my neck and send my ears tingling. “Well, thanks,” I said bashfully. “I try my best.”

A glance at the clock and Pinkamena let out a long, heavy sigh. “Damnit. Ol’ fudge-butt is going to be up for a little snack in a bit, I can feel it. And she’s going to be mighty confused if she woke up in your house.”

“Uh... Yeah. Let’s not have that happen,” I said with a nervous laugh. “Anyways... Goodnight Pinkamena.”

She waved as she stood in the doorway before blowing me a little kiss. “Good night Daymos... And see you again real soon.”

I waved back dumbly, out of sheer confusion more than anything and let out a little laugh.

“Well... Today’s been a day...” I finally manage to say after the door’s been closed. “She goes from potential murderer to friend in no time...”

My smile faded and I slumped slightly into my chair. “Well, there goes any idea of tracking down another killer... And I still need to get rid of you.”

The Whisper was quiet, grumbling, and growling from the back of my mind. I knew it didn’t like me talking with Pinkamena, but she seemed innocent. And I already made sure to point out the fact that while she could go to the police and tell them everything about me, I could turn around and do the same.

Apparently, she was the one responsible for a clown pony by the name of Big Top. I knew of the clown in question and while he seemed to enjoy bringing smiles to the faces of the kids of Ponyville, he was wanted for questioning in Canterlot after a few fillies who attended his show went missing.

The one thing I made sure not to mention was the location of my prizes, sitting beneath the house. As much as I liked bragging for a change — as much as recounting my tales to a like-minded individual excited me — I was not about to give her that over me.

Still, I was eager for the next time I saw her.

Which was supposed to be at her place.

Tomorrow night.

Chapter 9: Trust

I grabbed the knife and looked at the thing in front of me. Far too big to go into a bag in one piece. No, I had to make it smaller.

Just like the rest.

Pressing the knife against it, a few skilled motions, and its sectioned into small, manageable pieces.

Nice and neat.

From there, it’s into the bag and tied up, ready for its final destination.

“Wow Daymos, you’re really good at this.”

I let out a little hollow laugh and put a twist tie around the bag. “It’s just getting in the groove of things, that’s all.”

Dropping the large, frosting covered knife into the glass of water, I grabbed the last cake that needed to be cut and got back to work. It was the last one of a once-massive platter of simple, yet gaudy little cakes made for customers to grab during the lunch rush.

Is that supposed to be a flower or a pimple made of frosting? I thought as I dragged the knife through the cake. Well, it’s in pieces now.

It was enjoyable work to say the least.

Anything involving a knife is, now that I think about it.

Though, Pinkie Pie talked almost as much as she usually did.

Almost.

Which was the problem.

Every now and again, she’d trail off mid-sentence and stare off into space — or worse — me.

Her large, unblinking eyes were burning a hole into the side of my face. I had no idea what was running through that head of hers, but it couldn’t be anything good.

“Is this everything, Pinkie?”

I followed Pinkie’s eyes as she surveyed each bag of pastries, slices of cake, cookies, and other confectionaries, all ready for tomorrow. “Looks like it,” she said with a satisfied nod. “You saved me sooooo much work Daymos. You have no idea how grateful I am!”

“Oh, it’s nothing, Pinkie,” I said with a roll of my shoulders. “I asked if you needed help and offered a hoof. Nothing special, really.”

I was lying, of course. I don’t do anything unless it can benefit me in some way or another.

Pinki-

Pinkamena and I planned a little get together at around 10-ish tonight. I figured if I gave Pinkie Pie a ‘helping hoof,’ she won’t be as busy and might just end up going to bed early tonight.

A glance at the clock and I smiled.

4:25 p.m.

“I mean it, Daymos.” Pinkie Pie said with a warm smile. “I mean, like, I’d be working until closing if you didn’t show up. It’s so hard to do prep work and watch the front counter and do all my deliveries.”

I waved a hoof. “Don’t mention it.”

Grabbing hold of my apron and giving it a little tug and toss onto the rack, I started my way towards the door.

“I got to get going,” I said as I motioned towards the door. “I told Scootaloo I’d walk her home after class this morning. I’m glad I could help, Pinkie and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Pinkie waved a hoof and smiled so wide it looked painful. “Take care Daymos! See ya!”

One more smile, a nod, and I was off. Once out of sight and earshot, I let out a long sigh and let my shoulders sag.

Now that was trying, I thought as I worked my way towards the schoolhouse. Here comes the fun part.

Ever since the incident with Rumble, Cheerilee has been on my case more than ever about keeping an eye on her and talking to her about her feelings.

Which was about as effective as it sounded.

With the schoolhouse in sight and Cheerilee standing in the doorway, I switched masks around and went from helping a friend to a responsible guardian.

“Well, good afternoon Ms. Cheerilee,” I said as I walked up to her. “I’m here to pick up Scootaloo. Do you know where she is?”

“Pick her up?” She asked, confusion painting her face.

I started to feel my stomach drop.

That’s not a good sign.

“Yeah...” I said rather slowly as I tried to get a peek inside. “I told her we’d stop by the market and she could pick out something.”

Cheerilee’s brow furrowed and she started shaking her head. “She’s not here. When class ended, Scootaloo was one of the first out the door. Maybe she forgot?”

I rolled my shoulders. “I... don’t know. I’ll head home and keep an eye out for her.”

“Well... Alright. Let me know if anything comes up, alright? I worry about her, sometimes.”

“I will. Have a nice day.”

My mask was slipping and the look on Cheerilee’s face let me know that, but it didn’t matter.

Something was off.

Scootaloo didn’t strike me as a forgetful child, especially when I was practically dangling a treat in front of her for acing her last quiz.

Some would call me being nice, but I thought of it as insurance. Motivation for her to do just as good on the next quiz and keep Cheerilee happy.

That’s why it struck me as odd, especially when she seemed rather excited to get some of ‘Mr. Laffy’s awesome taffy’.

I already came down the main road and I didn’t see her. She must have taken another way back home.

There was only one other path you could take from the schoolhouse and that cut through part of the woods and down a road that takes you past Carousel Boutique before ending up on Stirrup Street and my house.

I started my way through the well-worn path and felt several memories come flooding back.

I was the only one who really took this path home. I never knew why the other kids avoided it, but it worked to my advantage.

It was quiet and I could actually think and get away from it all.

Looking up at the treeline, I couldn’t help but smile. I got to know these trees quite well.

Especially when a rapist started stalking the path at night, hiding in the bushes and jumping out when those three mares least expected it.

The look on her face when I pounced on her from the trees above was-

“I SAID LEAVE ME ALONE!”

My ears perked up. I knew that voice quite well.

“Oh, come on blank-flank! What’s wrong? You gonna cry?”

That voice I didn’t know, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out they weren’t the nicest.

Ponies make the mistake of walking like they usually do, but slower when they don’t want to be heard.

It sounds loud and gives you away.

You need to bring the back of your hoof down first, then let the rest of your hoof follow.

Part of me wanted just to do the adult thing and break it up, but I also didn’t want to suffocate Scootaloo. When I was her age and going through the same thing, I didn’t want anypony’s help.

Finally getting within sight, I saw two fillies walking briskly behind Scootaloo — one pink with a lavender mane and another with a grey coat and lighter grey mane.

“I’m not crying, now just leave me alone! Seriously, why do you keep bugging me?!?”

Scootaloo was looking angry. She was grinding her teeth and I could see her body starting to tremble.

“Cause you’re a violent little blank-flank that likes to hurt ponies, that’s why!” The grey one yelled out.

“I don’t like to hurt ponies,” Scootaloo spat out as she tried to walk away. “Just leave me alone, I-”

“Maybe that’s why you’re mommy left you, huh?”

Scootaloo stopped in her tracks, her back still to the two fillies following her.

Ooof. Low blow there. That little pink filly’s asking for it now.

The Whisper hadn’t said anything for a while, so I had to ask. What do you mean?

Can’t you feel it? Cause I do. This is gonna be fun.

I had an inkling what it meant if Scootaloo’s last performance with Rumble was anything to go off of.

I needed to step in now.

“You crying now, you little blank-flank?”

I started walking forward and opened my mouth to call out, but before I could even get a single sound out, Scootaloo turned on her heels and gave the little pink filly a look I knew all too well.

A snarl and bared teeth, every muscle in her body tensed, and a look in her eyes that made the pink filly’s face drop. She finally realized she wasn’t staring at a classmate anymore.

In the blink of an eye, Scootaloo tackled her bully and sat on her chest, hooves wrapped around her throat.

From the back of my mind, I could hear the Whisper start to applaud. Look at that form. And in a moment, she, a pegasus, has overpowered an earth pony. We might just be able to make a killer out of her yet...

“Hey, what’s going on here?!?” I yelled out, getting onto the main path and getting all three’s attention.

Scootaloo’s grip loosened and she whipped around to look at me in a mix of shock and horror. That gave the pink filly enough time to wriggle free and bolt towards Ponyville, leaving her friend standing there in shock.

I walked up to Scootaloo first, who looked like she was going to shake to pieces at any second. She didn’t cry. She didn’t make a noise. She just sat there on the ground with a million-mile stare pointed right at the dirt.

“I...I...” The grey filly started to stammer and take a few steps back. I leveled my eyes at her and she froze.

Just like with Sweetie Belle, the little grey filly’s instincts were telling her to run from the thing in front of her. From the thing that smells of a mix of strong chemicals, shampoo, with a metallic smell she just can’t place.

“Get out of here.”

Four words and that’s all she needed before bolting towards town as fast as her little legs could carry her.

I waited until she was out of sight before finally letting out a long sigh. A few steps off the path and I found myself sitting under one of the many trees I found myself under after school.

I didn’t say a word. I didn’t do anything except sit there and wait.

Five long, dreary minutes later and Scootaloo finally found her voice.

“H... How much did you see?”

“I walked up after the pink one’s-”

“Diamond Tiara,” she corrected.

I nodded slowly. I knew she looked familiar — spoiled daughter to one dirty business-pony.

“...after Diamond Tiara’s comment. I was about to say something, but then... Well, you know the rest, I think.”

Quiet again. Just myself and an utterly stone-faced filly who tried to strangle a classmate.

Did you see the look on her face? She was ready to go for the kill.

“Do... Do you hate me?”

I took a deep breath. I had a feeling where this was going. “Why would I hate you?”

She turned to me, her jaw going slack. “I-I-I lost it! I mean, first I punched out Rumble because of a stupid joke and now, I tried t-t-to...”

Aaaaand here comes the waterworks. Took long enough.

I let Scootaloo cry a bit, get it out of her system before speaking up. “Those two fillies give you trouble a lot?”

A single nod.

“And does what they say make you angry?”

Another nod.

“And what happens when you get angry?”

Ten seconds. Twenty. Half minute mark and she finally starts walking towards me and sitting down beside me. “I... I don't know. Before, they’d... They’d pick on me and I’d just get like, annoyed at it. Wasn’t that bad, you know?”

I nodded.

“B-But now? It just... It just makes me SO mad!” With her front two hooves, she threw them against the grass and left two deep marks.

“I’ve had all this happen to me and I’m thinking maybe things can start getting better, you know? But those two... They... They just...” Scootaloo let out another frustrated scream and slammed her hooves into the ground again. “I can’t take it!”

“And you just want to take your anger out on something?” I asked, venturing a guess. “Like, you need to just... get rid of it?”

Scootaloo turned to me and had this look of disbelief on her face. Like, she couldn’t believe that an adult knew just what she was saying and understood just what was happening to her.

“Yeah!” she cried out. “I just... Wanna make it stop.”

I let out another sigh and leaned back on the tree I was sitting under. “Well, you can’t go around hitting and hurting other ponies.”

Her ears drooped and she let out a sigh of her own. “I know... I just... I just don’t know what happened. I was so angry and I just saw red and...” Wiping her tears away, Scootaloo looked up to me and I just knew what she was going to ask.

“What happens now?”

“Well... First, we go home,” I said as I got to my hooves. “From there? I thought we make dinner.”

“And... After that?”

“I think we’re going to need to talk more about what you need to do when you ‘see red,’ but that can come later. Tomorrow’s Saturday, so you don’t have school. We can talk then.”

Scootaloo got up and started after me. “And... am I in trouble?”

This was going to be the touchy subject.

“Oh, no doubt about it.” She visibly flinched when she heard me say that. “I’m sure Diamond Tiara is going to tell her father, her father’s going to talk with Cheerilee, Cheerilee will talk with me-”

And I’ll probably ignore her.

“-and tell me to talk with you. Actions have consequences and you’ve set into motion a series of events that will undoubtedly affect your life somehow. All you can do is stand your ground.”

Scootaloo’s head hung low and I could hear her start to sniffle. “Am I in trouble with you? Am I grounded or...”

“Well Scootaloo, I already said that actions have consequences. If you and I switched places, what would you do exactly?”

“Well... I guess yeah, I’d be grounded...” She said with a sigh. “And maybe, like... Go to bed without dinner.”

I stopped in my tracks and had to give her a look. “Why would I do that?”

“Well, I, uh... I... Don’t know?” Scootaloo looked at me like I was growing a set of wings out of my head. “I thought that’s what adults did to kids who were bad.”

“Well, get that thought out of your head. I’m not sending you to bed without dinner. That’s just plain madness.”

In the quiet of the forest, there wasn’t a sound. Save for a giggling filly.

“Madness? Seriously?”

“Yeah, I mean... Why would anyone want to let another pony go hungry? That’s just cruel. No... If anything? I think tonight, you should have dinner, go up to your room and do your homework, and then go straight to bed. Tomorrow, I don’t think you should be going out and about. We’ll talk then. How does that sound?”

Scootaloo shook her head. “I don’t like it... But, I guess it’s fair.”

A little sigh of relief passed my lips. “Good. I don’t like to play the bad guy. We’re having zucchini patties. Sound good?”

“I, uh... Never had them. Are they good?”

I chuckled under my breath. “I’ve been told they are.”

* * *

Scootaloo devoured the Zucchini Patties. I figured she would.

I like to cook almost as I like to eat.

Dinner was finished rather quickly and in silence. Scootaloo didn’t feel much like talking and went upstairs, where she breezed through her homework and laid down and went to bed.

I stayed downstairs with a good novel until about 9:30 PM.

It’s show time.

I closed the Fetlock Holmes novel and placed it on the coffee table.

Quiet footsteps up the stairs and to Scootaloo’s room without a sound. Opening up the door, the curled up filly was fast asleep.

Perfect.

All I needed was a bit of insurance in case she came downstairs for whatever reason and realized I wasn’t around.

Back down the stairs and grabbing the notepad and pencil off the refrigerator, I scribbled a hasty note.

S,
Went out, be back later.
-D

Leaving it on the kitchen counter and grabbing the tupperware container with dinner’s leftovers next to it, I started towards the door and grabbed my saddlebag along the way.

You’re pathetic.

What? What could you want now?

I tucked the tupperware container with three zucchini cakes into my saddlebag, next to my black book.

You’re bringing her a gift. Admit it, you’re head over heels for her.

I shook my head as I opened the door and threw my saddlebag on.

It’s nothing. I’m just bringing her a little something. It’s what friends d-

The door closed behind me and I was left out in the street, not moving or saying a thing.

Friend.

I just called Pinkamena a friend.

I’ve never really considered others a real friend. Up until this point, I’d considered what few connections I had as friendship, but having spent time with Pinkamena? I was evaluating the worth of those friendships.

Windsor, he’s nothing more than an acquaintance, really. We don’t have that much in common and he just likes to have an ear to drone into.

Pinkie Pie, well, she tries to befriend everybody. She annoys me to no end when she tries to get personal. Again, an acquaintance.

Pinkamena though... She makes me smile. She makes me laugh. She makes me feel...

Nice.

Is this what friendship is supposed to be?

I ignored the Whisper’s words about how I was ‘growing weak’ and went on towards Sugarcube Corner.

My instructions were clear — 10 p.m. with a good five to ten-minute leeway in either direction. Knock on the basement door in the back alley and wait.

The day was winding down and anypony that had been working late was heading home now. Luna’s moon was sailing across the sky. Full moon at that, too.

Not a fan of full moons to be honest. The craziest ponies tend to come out of the woodworks on full moons.

Besides that, it makes it hard to sneak around at night without somepony able to see you.

While taking my midnight stroll through the town, I let my mind wander towards Pinkamena and just what would happen.

I was hoping we could trade a few more stories, talk some more...

Maybe even plan a murder or two. That’s what the black book is for.

When Windsor and I... Or in this case, when Windsor would talk, he’d tell me about all the biggest police headlines around Equestria and the progress of the cases. Whenever he’d tell me something that I thought was worth looking into, I’d write it down and anything relevant.

Neighpon, Stalliongrad, Mecklenberg, New Colt City, Los Pegasus... We got a lot of choices. A road trip would be quite fun. Just got to figure out what to do with Scootaloo if it comes to that.

Sugarcube Corner was well within sight. All the lights were off, the front door had the cardboard sign in the window that read ‘CLOSED’ and all the curtains were pulled.

A quick look around and certain nopony was watching, and then it’s off into the back alley. To the rest of the world who saw anything, a pony just meandered into the back alley of Sugarcube Corner and unless they were nosy little things, that would be the end of that.

There. The basement door. Two pieces of wood with metal handles.

Taking a deep breath, I reached a hoof on it and banged on it twice. Not too hard, not too soft. Just enough so that it could be heard.

I found myself counting the seconds, then came the minutes. After five minutes, the door finally opened. I was almost ready to head out when the door finally squeaked open.

Taking a peek down the stairs, I caught a flash of dull pink tail trailing away further into the basement.

I started my way down the stairs and found myself squinting through the darkness, looking for anything but in vain.

“Close the door behind you.”

Pinkamena’s voice. I looked behind me and to the moonlight funneling into the basement. “Sure. Think you can turn on a light first?”

“Sure, lemme just find the lamp.”

I reached up and grabbed hold of the cellar door and started to close it when the hairs along the back of my neck began to stand on end. Something didn’t feel right, but I didn’t know what.

Something’s wrong. Make an excuse. Get out of here. Now.

Taking a deep breath, I shook my head. We hit it off. Things are fine. I’m just being paranoid.

I closed the cellar door, careful not to make a noise.

As soon as the door closed, a click echoed through my ears and light started to fill the basement. I let a sigh loose and turned around to see Pinkamena at a table.

Like I said. I was being paranoid.

“Didn’t know if you were hungry or not, so brought you some leftovers from dinner. Zucchini cakes.”

“Oh really?” Pinkamena said aloud, her back still to me. “You cook?”

I saw a nearby table and started taking off my saddlebag. “Yes. There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

A chuckle behind me and I could hear Pinkamena start to stand up.

I expected her to say something, a retort or for the conversation to go anywhere.

I didn’t expect to look over at her just as she tackled me.

Out in New Colt City, carriage drivers have been putting these special lights on the front of their carriages so they can see at night. Animals in the roads who get caught in these lights tend to freeze up and not move.

For all my skill and talent, it meant nothing against another real killer.

Pinkamena raised a wickedly long butcher knife above her head, smiling from ear to ear.

I expected a monologue. I expected her to say something. But no.

She brought the knife right down into the center of my chest, knocking the wind out of me. All I could do was stare in abject horror as I looked down at the knife, half in and half out, trickling blood around the wound.

That was it. Dear Daymos was done and dead.

“Oh come on... Don’t be such a baby,” Pinkamena finally said as she pulled the knife back.

Only for me to finally notice the knife wasn’t in my chest but collapsed in.

It wasn’t real.

I brought a hoof to my chest and felt around and sure enough, there was no wound. Just a sticky, red liquid I needed to wash off as soon as possible.

“I had this great idea after you told me that story about you scarring that stallion to death. I totally wanted to try and do it myself, but with a bit of a twist.”

I looked dumbly up to Pinkamena, whose hoof pressed in a part of the knife’s handle, only for the rest of the blade to spring out.

“I was gonna wait... But oh sweet sister above, the look on your face!” Pinkamena called out with a deep laugh. “It was soooo totally worth it!”

My whole body felt numb.

Was the Whisper actually right? Was I growing weak? I let somepony close and she could have put a knife in me and that would have been it. I would have been another clean, bloodless body in a garbage bag at the bottom of a lake.

“Well, you just gonna lay there?” Pinkamena asked, cocking her head to the side. “We got some planning to do!”

I somehow managed to nod and slowly get to my hooves. “Just... Give me a minute. Is there a sink around-” I stopped when my eyes spied the stainless steel sink in the corner of the room. “Just give me a minute to clean this off.”

Pinkamena let out a sigh. “Why are you such a neat freak?”

“Cleanliness is next to godliness,” I replied idly. “What is this stuff anyway?”

“Corn syrup, red food coloring and a few extra things to give it the right consistency,” Pinkamena replied as she tipped back in her chair. “What’s got your panties in a knot?”

Well, maybe I just saw my life flash before my eyes and thought I was going to watch myself bleed out. EVER THINK OF THAT?

“I just don’t like surprises. I’ve also almost been killed a couple of times already. Just... Please? Future reference?”

“Fiiiiiiiine...”

I could practically hear Pinkamena roll her eyes.

“The zucchini cakes are in the bag. You’ll find my book in there, too.”

After a few more moments and finally satisfied, I turned the water off.

“I do have a few ideas,” I said as I walked over to the table. “Rapist in Stalliongrad, New Colt City has a serial killer of its own, and-”

“None of these are local,” Pinkamena commented idly as she popped the tupperware lid off. “Why aren’t any of them local?”

I let out a long sigh. Figured that would come up.

“I try not to kill anypony in town if I can help it...” I took a seat next to Pinkamena, but I made sure it was at leg’s length. “Tumbler was a spur of the moment kind of thing and I didn’t want him leaving town to disappear again.”

Pinkamena clicked her teeth. “That’s another thing... You sure got an obsession with criminals. Any real reason?”

I blinked a few times. Nopony has ever really asked me that.

“Well,” I started, taking a deep breath. “It’s complicated.”

“I’m good with complicated. Hit me.”

Biting back a comment, I rolled my shoulders. “Well... I told you about my first kill and what he did. From there... It just felt right. You know, getting rid of all those ponies out there who make life harder. And weirdly, it kind of feels like... my civic duty.”

Pinkamena snorted aloud. “Seriously? Civic duty? What are you, a Colt-Scout?”

I shook my head. “No. But, just think of it this way. So many ponies out there, doing what they please. Some without any repercussions from the law, some of them wriggling out altogether. I feel like I’m doing something good by making them disappear. Like with Tumbler and the mare at Carousel Boutique.”

“Wait. What?” Pinkamena’s eyes went wide. “You mean Rarity? What about her?”

“Tumbler broke into her house after I set the bait. She was out and I made sure to break in first.” I felt myself begin to smile. “Poor bastard didn’t even know what hit him.”

Pinkamena let out a low, deep sigh that seemed to echo through my core. “Daymos, just when I thought I was mistaken, you turn around and kill a pony in the house of air-head’s best friend and no one is the wiser. That... deserves a full story. For now though? Let’s look towards the future.”

There’s that smile again.

That sly, mischievous smile that made me feel like melting. It almost made me forget she attacked me.

Almost.

“Alright... Well, is going out of town an option?”

Pinkamena shook her head. “No. I have to stay in town, just in case little miss sunshine wakes up in the middle of the night. She’ll convince herself she sleepwalked if she’s out of her bed, but things will really get bad if she woke up in a whole other town.”

I let out a sigh of my own and slumped back in my chair. “Well... This night might just turn out to be a bus-”

I stopped myself short as something came back to me. Something that was not only worth looking into but something local. And something fun.

“Pinkamena... How would you feel about tracking down somepony who staged a suicide?” I could feel myself start to smile. “I have good reason to believe they’re here in town. Hiding.”

The mare’s ears perked up.

“Well now... I’m listening.”

“It’s pretty much how I got stuck watching Scootaloo... Her mother? Honeysuckle? She was found dead in the bathtub.”

“Yeah, I remember hearing that,” she says with a slow nod. “Sounded like an open and close case.”

“Really?” I leaned in a bit. “Then where’s the suicide note?”

Pinkamena opened her mouth to say something, but the same dawning I had back that morning hit her. She blinked a few times and then sat up straight. “Wait. Where is the suicide note? I remember reading the paper. Honeysuckle was the kind of mare who paid attention to details. She wouldn’t forget about it.”

“How do you know that?”

“I sometimes have nothing better to do than watch what fudge-butt does all day,” Pinkamena said, flipping a lock of hair out of her face. “She talked with Honeysuckle a few times and came off as a real control freak.”

Well... That’s not creepy or everything. Might be the reason why Pinkie kept staring at me today.

I suppressed a shiver and nodded. “Alright, we’re both at an agreement that it’s definitely suspicious that there’s no suicide note. On top of that, there was a picture of an orange pegasus that could have been Scootaloo’s father. Funny how he hasn’t said anything yet or even tried to get in touch with her daughter.”

Pinkamena nodded slowly. “Alright, alright. I see where you’re going... You think the father killed his wife? Or ex-wife? Or whatever the hell their relationship is?”

“It wouldn’t be that far of a leap, to be honest. I figured I could do some poking around the house again. The police released the crime scene, as far as I know, and if anypony asks I can just say I’m there for Scootaloo’s things.”

“Clever. And while you’re doing that, I can see what I can dig up about Honeysuckle.”

“Wait, what?” I asked, cocking my head to the side. “I thought you had to sit backseat?”

Pinkamena giggled. “Doesn’t mean I can’t nudge her in the right direction. Pinkie will be thinking about Honeysuckle and will start looking into some things for me. Like who she talked with and the like.”

Well now. That was a useful little bit of information. Not only can Pinkamena see and hear everything Pinkie does, but she can also actually affect her actions.

This little split personality thing has gone from creepy to downright disturbing.

Taking a deep breath, I nodded slowly. “Alright then... It’s settled. I’ll check by the house tomorrow and you dig up what you can. Meet back here, same time same place?”

“Probably for the best,” Pinkamena said as she got to her hooves. With a bit of a nudge, she placed the tupperware container in front of me. “You’re a good cook, by the way. Nice to eat something other than sugar for a change.”

“Well, thanks. I’ll make sure to bring something tomorrow night as well.”

Pinkamena smiled that smile again and I felt rooted to the ground as she walked towards me. “Thanks Daymos. You’re a real keeper, you know that?”

Too quick for me to react, Pinkamena placed a kiss on my cheek, making my whole body shiver. I’d never felt more conflicted in my life.

On one hoof, she pretty much spit on me. I could feel it sticking to my hoof.

On the other, it made my legs feel funny. In a good way, that was hard to explain.

All I could do was laugh like an idiot. “I, uh... It’s uh... Nothing, really.”

Pinkamena giggled aloud and started making a way for the stairs out. “Wow, if I knew it’d be that easy to make you flustered, I would have done it earlier. You know the way out.”

I nodded slowly. “Yeah...”

“Oh, and Daymos?” Pinkamena called from the top of the stairs. “If we end up catching this guy... We’re taking him to your place. I wanna see you in action.”

With a wink, Pinkamena closed the door and left me in her basement.

Finding my composure, I gathered up my saddlebag and made my way out.

Pinkamena was just so damned frustrating.

One moment, she has me fearing for my life and wondering if she was going to kill me where I sat and the next, she has me wrapped around her hoof.

Seriously. Keep it up. There’s no way you and her are going to end up arrested, dead, or worse.

I shook my head and pushed the Whisper back.

Shut up. Sure, there was a... complication.

SHE POUNCED ON YOU WITH A KNIFE. YOU CALL THAT A COMPLICATION?

She actually tried to kill me in my own home. If she wanted to kill me, she would have. She’s got a sick sense of humor, sure... But we’ve set some ground rules. She won’t do it again.

Riiiiiight. Keep telling yourself that. Unrelated question: do you have life insurance?

With a heavy sigh and grit teeth, I pushed the Whisper back hard and started my way home.

It’s... nothing. It’ll work out. We haven’t really talked that much. We’re making progress.

I felt myself nearly freeze up when I realized a light was being cast on me and turned to its source.

“Bulk Up! Gym... Open 24/7.”

A little building with large pane windows and what looked like an overly muscular pegasus running on a treadmill.

There were all sorts of equipment, from barbells, rowing machines, heavy bags-

Wait a minute... That might just work.

Taking a step into the gym, the pegasus immediately turned his attention to me.

“I have a question... Do you sell equipment here?”

His eyes lit up and he took a deep breath.

Chapter 10: Struck

It’s hard to move two hundred pounds up or down a flight of stairs.

Even harder to hang it without another set of hooves.

It helps, however, when the only other pony in the house could sleep through a hurricane.

As I stood on the step ladder and secured the last screw, I gave the bracket one final tug and nodded.

Sturdy. Could probably hang a couple of ponies off of that and it wouldn’t move.

A long sigh draws my attention to the sleeping form of Scootaloo, who didn’t stir a peep as I set up her gift.

In fact, she was curled tightly into a ball and if it wasn’t for the rise and fall of the blankets, I could swear she was dead.

And for a good reason.

Scootaloo managed to not only sleep through the whole process of dragging the heavy bag up the stairs but also through the use of the power drill.

She slept like a kitten the entire time.

Well, more like a kitten that was given a hearty bowl filled with milk of amnesia.

All I needed now was to grab ahold of the heavy bag and mount it to the ceiling bracket, and I was all set.

Can’t believe you spent fifty bits on this... For her, even.

It’s an investment. Should help curb the amount of parent/teacher conferences in the future.

One good thing about my job (the side one, not the cleaning one) was that I got a lot of exercise.

Upper body, lower body, cardio, heavy lifting... I’m quite the fit pony if I do say so myself. So grabbing hold of the two-hundred-pound heavy bag was no issue whatsoever.

It was lifting it the final few inches that was the real test.

“Lift with the legs, not the back...” I mumbled under my breath as I grabbed hold of the bag. With one final heave, it was up above my head and onto the clasp. “There.”

Bulk Biceps, the pegasus with the volume — and possibly steroid — problem, was more than happy to sell me the heavy bag and claimed it could ‘survive a hurricane’ and would give me a full refund if it ever broke.

My line of thinking was simple: Scootaloo wanted to hit something because she’s angry. Here’s her outlet.

Speak of the demon, she let out a long yawn and stretched before blearily looking up to me and the finished project.

“Uhh, what’s... What’s that?” She asked as she blinked repeatedly. “Is that a punching bag?”

I bit my tongue and did my best not to make a snarky comment. I’ve been up for the last 24 hours since my recent little trip with Pinkamena, and I tend to get angry quickly when I’m sleepy.

“Very astute,” I said as I hopped down from the step. “It’s for you when you’re feeling frustrated and just ‘want to hit something.’” Giving it a little nudge, I was satisfied when it swung and didn’t fall off. “What do you think?”

Scootaloo visibly flinched, the look on her face telling me she just remembered the outburst from yesterday between her and Diamond Tiara.

“B-But shouldn’t I... Not want to do that? Shouldn’t you like, be telling me it’s bad? And I shouldn’t have those kind of feelings?” She said as she looked down at the floor. “Doesn’t it make me a bad pony that I... I want to do something that isn’t normal?”

Leave it to a child to know just where to hit home. I let out a long sigh and sat down on the bed next to her.

“No... No, it doesn’t make you a bad pony. A bad pony wouldn’t feel bad about hurting another. It-”

So what does that make you?

I hesitated. I just realized what left my mouth.

You have no problem killing somepony and regularly think about cutting them into small pieces to add to your collection. Doesn’t that make you a bad pony?

With a deep breath, I shook my head and pushed the Whisper’s words away.

“It’s complicated. You might be able to get past the need to hit something when you’re angry, but it’s not going to be instant. For now, this is something to help you... cope.”

Scootaloo looked over to the heavy bag and stared for a few seconds before hopping down from her bed.

“And I can just... hit it? Whenever I want?”

I gave her a little nod. “Give it a little test hit. See how it feels.”

Furrowing her brow, Scootaloo sized up the heavy bag before coiling up and sending her back legs into the heavy bag with an audible thump, making the bag sway quite a bit.

I swear she’s got earth pony in her. Maybe that’s why she can’t fly that well.

“So... I hit this when I’m feeling angry,” Scootaloo said as she looked it over one final time. “And it’ll make it so I... don’t hurt other ponies?”

“It won’t make you do anything. You’ve got to do it yourself. It isn’t a cure-all. Don’t expect to hit it after a bad day and suddenly all your problems go away,” I said as I walked towards the door. “It’s stress relief more than anything.”

Scootaloo nodded and I could only hope she understood what I meant. “Alright, now... I know this might be a touchy subject, but I was thinking about heading back to your house.”

And thus began the web of lies.

Her ears shot up at the very mention and she looked to me with big eyes. “You mean...”

“I was hoping to pick up a few things for you. You know, blankets. Toys. Anything you might like. Was there anything you wanted me to pick up?”

“Well... I do want my blankets. And there’s a bunch of posters in my room I kinda want. And there’s a chest under my bed, that’s really important! Could I go with you?” She said, looking up to me with those big, pleading eyes of hers.

And there’s the catch.

I wanted to snoop through her mother’s possessions and see if there was anything that might lead me on the right path.

What I didn’t need was her looking over my shoulder the entire time and asking me why I was looking through her mother’s drawers.

And it wouldn’t take me much to discourage her.

“I... don’t know, Scootaloo. It hasn’t been that long since, well, your mother passed,” I said solemnly.

I could tell by the fall of her face that I just hit the right spot as everything came crashing back down for her and the bad memories started surfacing.

“Are you sure you’re ready to go back there?” I leaned in slightly. "After everything that happened?"

Scootaloo’s eyes left mine and hit the carpet as she fidgeted about. The seed of doubt was planted. All it needed was a little time.

“I... I don’t know,” she said with a heavy sigh. “I didn’t think it’d be hard just to go back home.”

“You can think it over breakfast. That is if you’re hungry.”

“...Yeah, I’m hungry.”

She didn’t sound that enthusiastic about it and the sag in her shoulders let me know just how she was feeling.

I couldn’t help but feel a little pang of guilt.

It felt like I kicked a puppy and it had no idea why it’s suddenly hurting, but it's wagging its tail as it followed.

With that now on my conscience, we made our way downstairs and into the kitchen. “I made myself something earlier this morning. Hash brown patties, green beans, and waffles. I thought I’d make you a plate as well.” Walking up to the toaster oven, I turned it off from its lowest setting and opened the door. “Want anything on your waffles?”

Scootaloo sat down at the table and shrugged. “I’unno... Syrup?”

I nodded and set the plate in front of her before fetching the syrup and adding that with a fork and knife.

“You don’t have to force yourself to do anything, you know.” That was the final push. That was all I was willing to do. And by the look on Scootaloo’s face, it was all I needed.

She sighed in defeat and brought some green beans to her mouth. “I wanna go, see the house and pretend things are normal, but that’s just it. Pretending. And... I don’t think I’m ready to go back there. Not yet, at least.”

I nodded slowly before grabbing a pen and pad of paper from the counter. “It’s fine. I’m just thinking about your health. Physical and mental.”

She’ll get depressed going back there, that’s true enough... and more than likely catch something from the mold spores.

Setting the paper and pen in front of her, I gave Scootaloo one of my patented plastic smiles. “When you’re done eating, write down everything you’d like me to bring back.”

Scootaloo gave me a weak smile. “Thank you, Daymos.” She said before shoveling another fork full of green beans into her mouth. "For everything."

I smiled again and started walking for the basement door. “I’ll be downstairs if you need me. Just knock on the door, I’ll hear you.”

She said something as I made my way down the stairs, but my mind was elsewhere.

Am I really a bad pony? I mean, it’s true. I don’t feel anything when I hurt somepony else, but... I’m doing good things. I’ve saved other ponies. I’ve-

You forgot to lock the door.

Stopping at the landing, I sighed heavily and started walking back up, grumbling the entire way.

You wouldn’t be in this situation with Pinkamena if you remembered to lock the door.

The lock is broken. The key doesn’t fit, so I can’t lock it without breaking the door down. I’m getting it fixed tomorrow.

Locking the door, I made my way back down and moved my thoughts away from the Whisper and onto something...

Brighter.

Happier.

My knives.

My saws.

My tools.

Oh deary me how I love a sharp knife. Nothing makes my heart quiver like holding a sharp knife.

And while everything has already gotten its maintenance before meeting Tumbler, I wanted to make doubly sure.

Ponies usually keep a ‘kitchen knife’ in their home for chopping vegetables and fruits, but they’re never sharp.

Never keen, never honed, never truly sharp.

Sharp is nice.

And if you want nice knives, you see the griffons.

Because they don’t call their knives ‘kitchen knives’.

They’re called butcher knives.

And they’re meant for carving up game.

With whetstone in hoof and butcher knife ready, I started the process of sharpening the blade.

It took quite a few bits to convince the griffon culinary school to teach me for that weekend.

And it was quite the experience to not only prepare meat but cook it as well.

It was quite stomach-turning at first, but it helped me overcome some past squeamishness.

I will fully admit that in my formative years, I was squeamish of blood.

And why wouldn’t I be?

Chock full of all sorts of viruses and parasites, it’s no wonder there are precautions in place when cleaning it.

But when preparing such things as rabbit, chicken...

Cow.

Well, you learn to deal with the smell.

And wear thick gloves.

My hooves finished the sharpening on their own and I felt a shiver run up my spine as I looked over the blade. The way it glinted in the basement light, the shine coming off the tang running up the middle of the handle...

“Nice.”

The only word for it.

Putting the knife away, I turned my attention to another project.

Nothing too dark, just a cleaning project I couldn’t keep upstairs.

A pot of water with some baking soda steamed away on a hotplate and held a client’s request.

A pony by the name of Sterling Silver wanted his family necklace cleaned since it had been rediscovered after it went missing in the family silver mine.

Apparently, a methane explosion in the mine killed his grandfather and they had just recovered his remains and jewelry.

He didn’t seem too broken up about it.

Astonishingly, the necklace was intact. Not a scratch, really.

The only problem was the silver was utterly tarnished.

Luckily, he was a regular client and I found out — after much experimenting — that a little baking soda and heat cleans the tarnish off of silver in no time flat.

With a pair of tongs in hoof, I reached in and, with a little work, managed to grab the necklace.

“Perfect.”

A silver chain with multiple loops and a charm that looked like a silver crown.

It had been completely tarnished. And now?

It sparkled.

A quick-dry off and it was ready for Sterling Silver, meaning it was time I left.

I grabbed my saddlebags and started up the stairs, tucking the velvet box it came in as I did.

“Scootaloo, I’ll be heading out now. Okay?”

Scootaloo peered over her plate. I caught her in the middle of licking it clean.

“Uhh... Okay,” she said, slightly embarrassed as she set it down. “Umm, any idea when you’ll be back?”

Glancing at the scrawled note on the table, I snatched it up and put it in my bag.

“If things go according to schedule? Two hours or so. I don’t think I need to repeat it, but don’t have anypony over while I’m gone, okay?”

“I won’t, I promise. I figure I’ll go upstairs and work on my homework... I guess.” She said with a heavy sigh. “Don’t know what else I can do.”

I rolled my shoulders. “Work the heavy bag if you’ve got the energy to burn? Hoof-boxing is supposed to be good exercise.”

Locking the door, I gave Scootaloo a little wave before hitting the streets of Ponyville.

First stop by Sterling Silver’s house, then see the police-

The police? Are you finally turning yourself in you big-

No, I just want to make sure they know I’m going in there. In case they haven’t released the crime scene.

Not that it would matter. Your hair, your hoof prints, everything really. Doubt they’d mind if you went back.

I knew what the Whisper was trying to do and it wasn’t going to work. I’ve already been cleared by the police.

I mean, why in the world would they let me look over a filly if they thought I was a criminal?

With a little laugh under my breath, I looked over the streets of Ponyville and smiled. Nice and qui-

“You’re not going to convince me otherwise. I already said that!”

“Come on Rich, are you seriously going to the police over a schoolyard scrap?”

My ears perked up and from the next street over, I could hear a familiar voice and a not so familiar voice arguing.

One of them was Sterling. But the other was one I didn’t recognize.

But I had a feeling that I was going to become involved in their conversation.

“So much for quiet mornings,” I grumbled under my breath.

Ducking through the alleyway, I glanced around and saw Sterling walking beside a pony I recognized.

Filthy Rich.

A rather squeaky clean stallion, if you can call undercutting general stores and buying out the property ‘clean.’ And I knew he had a daughter. I just didn’t know it was-

“-Diamond Tiara is scared and angry and she won’t even come out of her room until I do something! What kind of father would I be if I just ignored the whole issue?”

I picked up the pace and tried to put on my best smile before clearing my throat.

“Sterling?” I called out. “I was just coming to see you.”

Both Sterling Silver and Filthy Rich stopped in their tracks and turned around to face me.

Sterling looked rather happy to see me, no doubt happy to get a hold of his necklace.

Rich on the other hoof?

He looked ready to punch me.

I could see the fury in his eyes and he started to walk towards me, stomping his hooves the entire way with each step.

I bet he thought it made him look intimidating.

If he knew what I did for fun, he’d realize that he looked like a child trying to get his way.

“You,” he growled as he got into my face.

I rolled my shoulders and smiled innocently. “Me.”

“Dayglow! Dayglow Mornings! Now you’re a sight for sore eyes. How’s my favorite cleaner pony?”

I bit the inside of my cheek. I didn’t need this right now, I was already on edge.

I hated my full name.

And I told Sterling multiple times not to call me that.

“Daymos is fine, Sterling. We’re friends after all, right?” I said with a strained smile. This was the only thing I hated about dealing with Sterling. His weird verbal tick.

Anypony he was doing business with, wanted something from, or just wanted them to do something was called by their full name, which isn’t usually a problem for most ponies.

But I hate my full name.

The last pony I let call me that died in an alleyway.

No one gets to call me that.

“Now Filthy Rich, watch your temper. What’s got you all wound up? Did Dayglow Mornings do something or-”

“The little filly he’s watching is the one who attacked my Diamond! I hope you understand that thanks to that violent brat-”

I felt my eye twitch. The dam that was my patience was starting to groan. That’s one...

“-has traumatized my poor Diamond! And this isn’t the first time she’s gotten into a fight! I know she’s been through a lot, but you’re acting as a horrible guardian-”

Two.

“-and that’s why I’m going to the police!” He said, stomping his hoof like a child. “They’ll hear about this and-” He tried to turn away from me.

Tried.

I’m rather patient, but I have a short fuse. It takes a lot to push me over the edge.

It may have been my lack of sleep, making me grumpy. Maybe it was Sterling still constantly calling me by full name after all this time. Or it could have been Filthy Rich hitting the right nerves with each sentence.

I snapped and reached out, grabbing hold of his tie — why do ponies even wear ties? Just makes it easier to grab them — and brought him face to face with me again. But this time he didn’t look so cocksure.

“That ‘Diamond’ of yours has a habit of tormenting Scootaloo, I’ve found out.” My voice was low, but each word hung in the air. Even Sterling was wide-eyed and paying attention. “She likes to bully her. And yesterday, she and a little grey filly with glasses-”

Sterling’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Guess I know who’s the father. “Wha-”

“Followed her down the forest path while Diamond Tiara called her a ‘blank flank’ and ‘violent’ and-”

“That’s no reason for her to attack my daughter like that!” Filthy Rich croaked out as he tried to pull my hoof away. His bravado was breaking. The look in his eyes said it all.

“Yes, but the final push that made Scootaloo attack her was when she asked ‘Is that why your mommy left you?’.”

That got Rich’s attention. He stopped struggling and looked to me with wide-eyed shock.

“W...What?” He shook his head and I finally let go of him. “No, she would never...”

“I heard it all. I watched it all. I broke it up. Scootaloo’s taking steps now to control her anger. But I think your daughter has some explaining to do,” I said coldly.

“Silver Spoon as well...” Sterling mumbled as he ran a hoof through his mane. “What was she doing following her?”

“I have no idea. Ask her.” I reached into my pack and held out the velvet case he initially gave me. “It’s all taken care of. Mail me the check. I’ve got other things to do today. Unless you’re still dead set on going to the police?”

I cast my gaze to Filthy Rich and he tensed up before shaking his head. “No... No, there’s more going on here than I thought. I... I’m going to go home and talk to her right now.”

Nodding once, I started walking past and left the two to their own devices.

I still needed to go to the police, after all.

* * *

Nothing special happened at the police station.

I’m glad I could take solace in that.

I asked one of the officers there if it was alright to walk into Honeysuckle’s former home to retrieve some things.

They didn’t even bat an eye.

“Sure, go right ahead. The scene has been cleared.”

That was it. No fuss, no muss, no paperwork, and not even a question as to why I was doing such a thing.

It helps when you have a winning smile you’ve practiced for years.

I steeled myself at Honeysuckle’s front door and prepared for the worst.

Thoughts of her infested kitchen came back to me but knew there was a job to be done.

The first thing I grabbed from my saddlebag was the dust mask. The kind of stuff that construction workers use when they kick up a lot of dust with their tools.

It was good at keeping all manner of particulates from entering the lungs and I found it also worked well with mold when given a quick chemical treatment.

The second thing I pulled out was a bottle of ‘Mold-b-Gone.’

I’m serious. It was literally called ‘Mold-b-Gone.’ It was like something out of a cartoon, but it did what it said on the bottle, despite the cheesy name.

I may not like the stallion, but Filthy Rich and Barnyard Bargains do have some good deals.

Two bits for two bottles of anti-mold and mildew spray, heavens above that’s a steal.

With my hoof on the doorknob, I steeled myself and opened the door.

I locked eyes with the kitchen and I nearly felt my eyes pop out of their sockets. The mold was growing up the ceiling and I swear it was moving.

I felt like if I tried to clean it, there would be ponies who would want to press charges for animal cruelty.

Shaking the thought out of my head, I aimed the squeeze bottle and started spraying the green and black mold with a hearty helping of Mold-b-Gone.

It took about five minutes of work and an entire spray bottle, but the mold was actually starting to disappear.

“Perfect.”

Almost. From behind, the door opened and I nearly jump out of my skin at the sudden intrusion.

Standing there was one police officer I recognized — the one who became my patsy when his partner questioned me.

Melilot.

“So,” he said sharply as he took a step forward. “Just what are you doing here?” He saw the spray bottle and I could hear his teeth click with agitation. “And what are you doing with that?”

“I got cleared by Lucky to pick up some things for Scootaloo. As for this?” I shook the spray bottle and held it out for him to see. “Stopping this house from becoming a health hazard to the neighbors. The mold was a few days away from becoming sentient.”

I could see Melilot’s face, and the gears were definitely turning. He apparently was a thick pony, but there was something else going on here.

“Well? What are you waiting for?” He finally said.

Standing in the middle of the living room, he and I stared into each other’s eyes and it was clear he had a problem with me.

The way he stood, the set jaw, the furrowed brow...

He was angry.

“Is there something wrong, Officer? I mean, I already got cleared to be in here, I-”

“I was a friend of Honeysuckle’s.” He said sharply. “A good friend.”

Oh.

Uh-oh.

“And she never once said a thing about you.”

I put on my best smile and shrugged. “We weren’t good friends, just acquaintances. We talked with each other every now and agai-”

“Where?”

“At the market, mostly. I-”

“What’d you talk about?”

What’s your game... I thought as I cocked my head at him. Wait. How could you forget about her kid... Think fast.

“Anything really. Gossip, weather plans, food... Listen, what is with th-”

“Where’d you meet her? I w-”

“Where did you meet her?”

I stopped him short and took a step forward.

“W-What?” He asked, his confidence seeming to wane.

“Where did you meet her?” I repeated. “You’re a good friend. You must’ve met her when you were young.”

“Well, I... I guess, bu-”

“And you’d know her favorite dish,” I said matter-of-factly. “The one her and I would get at the cafe.”

“Well, yeah. Obviously.” He said with a snort.

Time to set the bait, I thought as I smiled behind my mask. “She really did love those daisy sandwiches.”

He nodded back. “Oh yeah, she always-”

“I never ate with her at the cafe,” I said bluntly. “I honestly don’t know what she likes to eat.”

Melilot’s face fell. He took the bait.

Hook.

Line.

Sinker.

“Cheeky little cunt,” he mumbled under his breath. “Alright, alright. I was never friends with Honeysuckle. But I do remember one thing,” Melilot said, moving closer and closer. “I never saw you in that crowd of ponies. You never talked to me. And I’ve got my eye on you.”

My heart was beating a mile a minute, but I simply nodded. “Well... I guess I’ll sleep a lot sounder at night. You know, knowing a police officer is keeping a watch for me.”

Melilot scowled and shook his head before making his way for the door. “I don’t know what your game is, but you better watch it.”

And with that, he slammed the door behind him, leaving me a little rattled.

Great. Just great. A cop is now watching my every move. Just what I fucking need...

I wanted to lash out and kick over the side table, break something...

Someone...

But I resisted the urge.

Nothing was going right this week.

“Please, just give me this...” I said under my breath as I started opening the drawers to the side table before moving on to the armoire. “Give me something to go on...”

The side table had nothing of interest.

A pouch of tobacco, rolling papers, a lighter...

The armoire, however, was where Honeysuckle stored her important documents.

Mail, bank statements, and bills. And they all told a story.

Up until about a week before her death, Honeysuckle’s bank account was rather steady if a bit on the low side for a single mother.

Then, all of a sudden on the day before her death, she went into the red.

One thousand bits in debt with nothing to indicate where that money went.

Was she being extorted? Or did somepony take it from her? Someone in Honeysuckle’s position would be put up against the wall if she suddenly couldn’t support her child...

I committed what I could to memory and put the papers back where I found them but stopped when a glint of glass caught my eye.

A framed photo hidden under a pile of papers.

A family photo at that. One of Honeysuckle, Scootaloo, and a rather bulky looking orange earth pony. Most likely to be Scootaloo’s father.

Told you.

They all looked rather happy.

The only thing that ruined it was the massive crack running through the glass of the frame.

I was debating whether or not to take it with me, hoping there might be other pictures. I have no idea where Scootaloo’s father is currently, but seeing as how he has not come to pick up her daughter wasn’t boding well so there was no telling how their relationship was.

A glance around the house and I found a distinct lack of any other photos. This was it.

“I’m gonna regret this,” I mumbled as I fumbled the photo into my saddlebag.

I wish I could say that the rest of my investigation of Honeysuckle’s possessions bore fruit, but there was nothing except signs of a hidden smoking habit and a mare who overworked herself for her daughter.

The only solace I could find was in finding everything on Scootaloo’s list: two Wonderbolts posters, a signed picture of one Rainbow Dash, a chest containing all sorts of souvenirs from her friends, two blankets — that desperately needed a wash — and the drawing that hung on Scootaloo’s door.

A glance at my watch let me know that I was still on schedule and started making my way back home in time for lunch.

Despite how empty I was feeling at coming up without a solid lead, I still could eat and was looking forward to it.

* * *

“I’m home!” I called out as I stepped through the front door. I looked around and didn’t see Scootaloo in the living room. I was about to call out again when I heard a series of thumps that got my attention.

Looks like she’s actually using the heavy bag. Good.

I started up the stairs and heard the thumps grow louder and were followed by a series of grunts and pants.

Setting the saddlebags at the door, I peeked in and found Scootaloo mid-dropkick and colliding with the heavy bag sending it rocking back and forth like a pendulum on amphetamines.

She stood there for a moment, sweaty and trying to catch her breath before looking to me and smiling.

“You were right,” Scootaloo said with a wheeze. “Hoof-boxing really is a good workout!”

I glanced at the heavy bag and felt my eyes widen in surprise.

Bulk Biceps was confident in the heavy bag surviving a hurricane but didn’t account for Hurricane Scootaloo.

The crisp, new looking heavy bag I purchased the night before was now looking worn and dented.

“Jeez, at this rate I’ll have to get you a new heavy bag. Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

Scootaloo’s smile dipped slightly and she glanced at the floor. “My dad...” She said solemnly. “He wanted me to know how to defend myself. He taught me all the basics.”

“Is he...”

“I don’t know,” Scootaloo said with a sigh. “Mom said he owed some ponies money and that was it. That was like... two years ago.”

“You don’t seem that broken up about it,” I remarked. “I don’t mean to pry-”

“Oh no, don’t get me wrong! My dad’s awesome! He worked on all the big buildings in Manehattan while we were living there and was really tough! But...” She wandered over to the bed and pulled herself up before sighing again. “He just left. No note, no nothing. Not even a goodbye. I’ve kept expecting him to walk back into the house and make things right a-and when... mom...”

I joined Scootaloo’s side on the bed and gingerly put a hoof on her back. “You were hoping he’d come back, huh?”

Scootaloo nodded. “Y-Yeah, but... Two years? M-Maybe... Maybe he’s dead... L-Like mom...”

She was crying now.

Great.

I tried to make conversation and managed to bring up some pretty big emotional baggage because of my own morbid curiosity.

Maybe...

I got up without a word and went to my saddlebags for the picture.

“I managed to find this at your old house,” I said as I held up the framed photo. “It’s not much, but...”

Scootaloo rubbed at her eyes and looked over to what I held in my hoof before gasping. “O-Oh my gosh! Where did you find that?!?”

“Behind the armoire,” I said with a shrug. “I thought you’d like a picture of your mother, but I didn’t know how you were with your father. Is this oka-”

I couldn’t get the last few words out before Scootaloo zipped across the room and snatched the photo frame from my hoof, looking it over with big, glistening eyes.

“W-When dad left, mom got really sad and got rid of a lot of the p-pictures he was in. I didn’t think there were any left...” She traced a hoof down the crack in the glass before looking up to me with pleading eyes. “Can you fix this, please? Like, put it in a new frame or something? Please?”

I couldn’t say no. Not after what I did to the little filly this morning and digging up more emotional baggage she’d been repressing.

I took the photo frame from her and looked it over. I had a frame of about the same size in my cleaning workshop.

“No problem at all.”

“Oh thank you, thank you!” she cried out as she pulled me into a hug. “Daymos, you’re the best!”

I didn’t exactly feel the best, but I tussled Scootaloo’s mane. “Like I said, it’s no problem. Now, the rest of the things you wanted are in my saddlebags outside the door. I’ll take care of this and start making lunch while you unpack. Sound good?”

Scootaloo bounced on the spot and nodded quickly. “Uh-huh! I can’t thank you enough!”

I left her to set up her room how she wants and took the photo frame into my workshop.

You’re getting attached. Not just to the filly, but Pinkamena as well.

My hoof stopped rummaging through the drawer and I waited. The Whisper had been quiet for most of the day, saying something here and there. This had been the most serious he had sounded all day.

You’re emotionally dead. And you think you can what? Take care of a filly? Better than somepony more well adjusted? Who can actually love her? She’s going to end up like you if you aren’t careful. And for what? So you can play father?

I shook my head and tried to quiet The Whisper. But he was loud. Louder than he’s ever been.

And what about Pinkamena? She’s tried to kill you not once, but twice! She’s a sociopath and you’re a psychopath. Two opposite ends of the spectrum. And what do you want from her? A relationship? It’s going to end one of two ways. Either in death or prison. Get rid of them. Both of them. Just adm-

Grabbing hold of my head, I started squeezing until it hurt.

Scootaloo is my responsibility. I’m not going to let her turn into me. That’s the last thing I want. And this isn’t permanent. She still has family somewhere. They’ll come to get her.

But-

And Pinkamena... She’s the only pony who’s seen me — really seen me. And she likes what she’s seen. I have a friend. A true friend. Not one of those stupid ponies who have only seen a mask.

The Whisper was quiet and I honestly thought that was the end of things. With screwdriver in hoof, I started undoing the back of the frame.

You’re going to regret this.

I gritted my teeth and told myself to ignore the Whisper. Not just now, but from here on out.

No matter how much good advice he’s given me over the years, he had no power over me. I could do what I want. What I thought was right.

Pulling the back off the picture frame, I jumped slightly when a thick wad of folded papers spilled from the frame.

How could I not notice it? The frame was heavier than it looked. I thought it was the wood it was made out of.

But no.

Twelve different pieces of paper, all folded the same size of the picture and put in the back of the frame.

It even explains why the glass broke. The papers pushed against it and made it snap.

Grabbing up one of the papers, I unfolded it and started reading. Immediately, a smile started tugging at the corners of my mouth.

Honeysuckle,
Rivet isn’t coming back. Just accept it. Listen, I know we’ve had our spats in the past, but please. Just think about us. I can help you if you let me.
Love,
Teller

That was just the first letter. There were so many other letters, each one saying the same thing, just begging for a chance.

Honeysuckle,
It’s been a year! I know I screwed up back in high school, but please come to your senses! I need you in my life and I’ll do whatever you want if it means we can be together. Just please, talk to me.
Love,
Teller

This one was my favorite. And the one that made me think I had something to go on.

Two years. It’s been two years since Rivet left you alone and you haven’t even looked at me. You run from me even now. We will be together. I promise you that.

It was painfully obvious.
Honeysuckle had a stalker.

* * *

“Honeysuckle had a stalker?” Pinkamena asked after swallowing a mouthful of lasagna. “Oh wow, that’s good... Better than what I turned up, that’s for sure.”

The day passed without much incident, the only thing of interest being Scootaloo refusing to let me wash her blankets. Apparently, she missed the smell of home so I didn’t fight her about.

But now Scootaloo was settled in and sleeping soundly in her old blankets and was quite thankful I returned her picture, sans letters and has the picture of her parents on the nightstand.

Meanwhile, Pinkamena showed up at my home this time and I laid out each letter for her to read after bringing down dinner.

“Oh wow,” she said with a small laugh. “This guy went from lovestruck, to desperate, and then to psychotic in like no time flat. The last letter just screams ‘I’m going to make you love me or kill you.’”

I nodded slowly and wiped my mouth clean of sauce. “That’s what I was thinking. Teller wants Honeysuckle, stalks her, writes her letters, and-”

“Might have messed with her bank account. Ponyville bank is the only bank close and Teller is one of two other ponies who work there. Probably where he met her.”

“Bingo. All we have to do now is find the smoking gun. Which means breaking into his home.”

Pinkamena shot me a puzzled look before swallowing a mouthful of lasagna. “Why do you want more proof? I mean, this is pretty much all you need. Chances are good he did it.”

“Well, I like proof,” I said with a shrug. “I like being 100% sure. I mean, what if I’m wrong? I’d be killing a pony who didn’t deserve it.”

She kept her eyes on me for a moment, looking at me oddly before laughing under her breath. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, that and I like to throw it all back into their face when they’re on my table.”

Pinkamena’s ears perked up at that. “What do you mean? Like ‘Throwing it back into their face’?”

I leaned into the table, laughing slightly as I imagined the scenario. Imagining Teller on my table.

“Think about it. Teller’s on the table, strapped in and crying, begging to be let free. Telling me he didn’t do anything, that he’s innocent.” Grabbing the kitchen knife from the pan of lasagna, I started tapping it against the table rhythmically. “Their heart is beating a mile a minute and I can hear it if I concentrate. Because they know that I know.”

Pinkamena’s eyes glazed over and she nodded slowly. “Uh-huh...” she said breathlessly. “Don’t stop.”

“I hint that I know at first. And they panic, denying it up and down. And then I reveal more and more. Sometimes I show them things. Notes they’ve written, pictures they’ve taken... Sometimes I find the murder weapon itself. That’s when they truly break. They struggle and thrash, all the while pleading and begging me not to tell a soul.”

“Ooooooh...” She cooed, biting her lip as she rested a hoof on the table. “Come on. Don’t stop there, don’t leave me hanging.”

I gave her a cocky grin. “I tell them I won’t say a thing. And then they relax. Right up until the point I tell them that they can’t go. And that they’ll never leave. Then they offer up everything. Money, drugs, sex, their home, their lovers... But I don’t listen. I just look them right in the eye as I raise my knife high for them to see.” I mimicked the motion I had done so many times in the past, raising the knife above my head. “And slam it down right into their heart, ending their life right th-”

As my knife made contact with the pan, Pinkamena threw her head back and let out a muffled squeal into one hoof.

And that’s when I noticed that her other hoof was.

Between her legs.

My jaw went slack as my brain sluggishly processed just what she did not even two feet away from me. At first, I was sickened.

But I couldn’t look away.

She was in bliss.

Pure, unadulterated bliss.

Her eyes fluttered for a moment and she panted heavily.

“Oooooh, wow... Now I needed that.” She moaned out as she looked to me with a lust drunk expression. “Daymos, I really wanna see you in action. Now, more than ever.”

I tried to tell myself to move away, but I couldn’t. Some primal part of my stallion brain was keeping me there.

“I’ll keep Teller distracted tomorrow. Get Pinkie to throw some sort of bash at the bank for some stupid reason. You get what you need and we’re bringing him here tomorrow night.” Her eyes darted to the knife I held limply in my other hoof and in some wanton display of lust, dragged her tongue up the blade of it.

It wasn’t that sharp, but it could still cut flesh if you weren’t careful.

But here she was, cleaning it with ease and leaving me even more confused than before.

“It’s been fun, Daymos. Really. But I gotta get home,” she said with that same dopey grin. “I can’t wait for tomorrow night. We’re gonna have soooo much fun!”

In some space of time between her getting up and that sentence, Pinkamena left me sitting there.

“D...Did that really just happen?” I managed to croak out.

I didn’t know what to think. Or what to do for that matter.

Pinkamena just masturbated in my home, in front of me, without so much as a care in the world.

If anything, she seemed to like it.

I mean, she was getting off on what I planned to do.

And the chair.

I liked that chair.

And I didn’t want to throw it out.

Which means...

Okay, first: I need to clean up that chair. Second, I gotta get ready. I have a guest tomorrow night.

Chapter 11: Instincts

She held me in her hooves, snaking their way across my body and holding me tight.

I mirrored her actions, but I was holding on for dear life as I heard her moan my name and thr-

BZZZZZZZZT

I was startled awake from my dream and felt my heart hammering in my chest. Not in fear, oh no. I let out a long, frustrated moan and buried my head in my hooves and leaned against the dryer — every time. Every time I fell asleep, I was plagued by the same kind of dreams.

I didn’t even have to glance at the clock to know that it was just edging on morning and I had a collective 2 hours of sleep in me. As sunlight streamed into the bathroom and still feeling the arousal from my previous dream, I decided now was a great time for a shower to start the day.

A cold shower.

Contrary to what others might think, I’m not exactly some asexual being. I’m a stallion and a slave to the hormones that come with being male.

A primal part of my brain has clicked on a few times in my life when in the presence of a mare in season, but my meticulous nature and aversion to touch stops that cold.

This though? This was completely different. So real, so vivid.

I let out a content sigh as the cold water washed over me and any lingering feelings down the drain.

The object of my dreams was apparent. Pinkamena. Her and I, doing things. Things that make me shiver in disgust now that my mind is no longer clouded by primal instincts.

I blame her.

She masturbated right in front of me and hotboxed my basement with her scent and pheromones. Is it any wonder why my animal instincts were kicking in?

I washed that seat cushion three times now and almost choked to death on the air freshener clouding the basement.

Pinkamena is sending signals, that much was obvious. You don't masturbate in front of somepony for a lark. I just need to...

With another deep breath, I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. I felt so much better. Awake, alert, and focused. I knew what I need to do.

Drying myself off, I pulled the cushion out of the dryer and smiled. Clean. No trace of any scent and a sign of things turning around.

A glance at the clock on the wall, I smiled. 5 a.m. The sun will be up in two hours and the day will start. The bank opens at 9 a.m. And if Pinkamena holds up to her end of the plan, she’ll be keeping Teller busy with Pinkie’s antics.

“Tonight’s the night,” I said with a wide grin. The Whisper, despite all of its moaning and belittling, was eager. “Gonna need a good breakfast for this.”

Do you know what an opportunistic carnivore is?

It’s generally a herbivorous species that will eat meat when the opportunity and need arises. Deer are known to, as well as squirrels.

Ponies are an odd bunch... Pegasi will eat fish when offered, yet will balk when asked if they’d eat red meat. Some earth ponies won’t admit it, but I know a few who’ve eaten things like pork and beef. But almost every pony out there has eaten eggs at some point. Especially if you like baked goods. So essentially, ponies are just like deer — opportunistic carnivores.

Me? I’m one of a hoofful of ponies in Ponyville who buys eggs just to cook and eat. In my line of work, you need all the energy you can get. And honestly, eggs are an amazing breakfast food: high protein, high energy.

And tasty.

Down the stairs and to the kitchen, I glanced at the clock after finishing up the laundry. 6 a.m. A greased pan later and some freshly whipped eggs, I started making my omelet.

“Eggs, cheese, green peppers... Mushrooms too, that’d be good,” I hummed as I tossed in ingredients. “What else?”

Bacon.

I bit my tongue at the thought. During my time studying at that griffon culinary school, I ended up eating bacon for the first time when it was broken up and served in an omelet.

Apparently, my peers expected me to vomit and throw a fit over it. But after the reveal and tasting it?

My word, what I wouldn’t give to be a griffon, just to be able to eat stuff like that as the norm.

“Mmm... What’chya cooking?” A still sleepy Scootaloo said suddenly. “...Are those eggs?”

“Why yes, they are. I was making an omelet for myself,” I said cheerily. “You don’t have an issue with that, do you?”

She cocked her head to the side for a moment before making an ‘O’ with her mouth and gasping. “Oh my gosh, I remember! Rainbow Dash was talking with her friends and said how she liked to have an omelet on training days! She said protein is good when exercising.”

I nodded slowly. “Yes it is, but it’s an acquired taste.”

“Can I try it?”

“How about I throw in another egg and let you try just a bit? Just in case you don’t like it.”

Scootaloo nodded quickly and I set to work on the omelet again, smiling as I cooked.

I was always in a good mood when getting ready for the kill.

I had enough circumstantial evidence against Teller that in a court of law, he’d be convicted but I wasn't lying when I told Pinkamena why I wanted to find smoking gun.

I thought happily about the look on Teller’s face when he was strapped to my table and all the fun we’d have. About how his obsessive nature with Scootaloo’s mother drove him to destroy the thing he cared about and that’s why he was going to die tonight.

“Not gonna lie, that smells really good.”

I looked down at the little filly and kept on smiling.

“I know, right? Some ponies don’t like to eat eggs like this but are fine with having them in a cake or cookies. It’s almost done.”

Grabbing the pan with one hoof and a plate with the other, I skillfully slide the omelet from one to the other and brought it to the kitchen table.

Two plates, two forks, two knives. I cut off a small piece for Scootaloo and set it in front of her. My usual three-egg omelet had a fourth in it and I was definitely going to be feeling bloated if she didn’t like it.

I watched as she cut off a tiny piece, brought it to her mouth and chewed. After a bit of contemplation, she swallowed and nodded her head. “Wow, that is good. The texture’s a bit weird, but not a bad weird,” she said with a smile. “Can I have a bit more?”

“Sure thing.” Not often do I get to share something I like with another pony. Even if Scootaloo was a kid. I slid a bit more omelet onto her plate and finally got a chance to sit down and eat mine.

I saw a lot of myself in the little filly. Not just the dead parents, mind you. A bit of an outcast picked on by other children for something she has no control over, and on the fringe.

Call it the happy high I was getting from planning tonight, but I no longer was seeing a nuisance in her like I first did. She was more like... a roommate than anything else. One I could actually get along with. And give it a hoofful of years and when she’s ready, she’ll be out of my mane and out doing whatever she wants with her life.

And hopefully, not end up like me.

“So, why were you up so early?” I asked idly.

“Well... I dunno, I just kept thinking about things. School. What we talked about. Kinda want to see my friends and tell them everything that’s happened, but after... You know.”

Something hit me right then and there and I realized I had a little bit of a problem. Scootaloo will be home tonight unless I did something. Best to nip that problem in the bud.

“Well, I did talk with Diamond Tiara’s father yesterday. Things should be a bit more smoothed out, so don’t worry about that. And today’s Friday, isn’t it?”

She looked in thought for a moment and then nodded. “Yeah. Why?”

“Well, I don’t think I can handle having any of your friends over just yet, but if you wanted to see if you could spend the night with-”

I could barely get the rest of the words out before Scootaloo jolted up and smiled. “Really?!? I gotta talk with Applebloom and Sweetie Belle but I’m sure we could hang out at Rarity’s tonight!”

I smiled and nodded as I finished up the last bit of my omelet. “Just make sure everything’s okay with the adults first, okay? And if they ask, let them know you have my okay.”

Getting up, I tossed my plate in the sink and started to run the water. “I need to do some running and you can’t exactly see your friends until after school. You going to be fine by yourself for a while?”

Almost 7 AM.

Scootaloo nodded. “Yeah, I’ll work on the heavy bag a bit more and then maybe work on my homework.” The last word left her mouth and she gave a sour look. “I hate algebra. Math was already complicated; why did they need to bring letters into it?”

Scootaloo’s bemoaning of the school system fell into the background as I washed the dishes. I had a few plans to make and some tools to bring out.

Tonight’s the night...

* * *

When Pinkie Pie wants to throw a party, a party is thrown. And today’s occasion?

“Saving for the Future!”

I met her on the streets and she was so excited because she had this idea that more ponies should open savings accounts so they can better plan out the future.

It wasn’t those exact words, but the original was a jumbled mess of sugar high and bouncing.

Still, a distraction was a distraction and by the time I passed the bank, Pinkie had already set up several banners and streamers. And the bank manager, whose name escapes me, was happy to see someone attempting to drum up business.

By then, it was around 8 AM and my little excursion before meeting up with Pinkamena last night let me know what street Teller lived on. Now all I had to do is simply sit at the cafe on the corner and wait to see what house he comes out of and nurse my drink.

“Coffee, you’re the only one who truly understands me...” I said with a small grin.

“Here, here!”

I suppressed the urge to whip around and instead remained calm and turned to the voice of the mare.

Rarity. She had a penchant for showing up when I least expect it.

“Oh, Rarity. A pleasure to see you, as always. Getting ready to start the day?”

The white mare nodded. “I put in my order just now, actually. I was about to sit down and get into my book when I saw my most polite customer. Tell me, how is that apron treating you?”

I wanted to laugh. I really did. If she only knew. “It’s seen a lot of work, but I’m taking good care of it. I love the fact that it can’t stain. It was worth every bit, I must say.”

If only I could get her to do a plastic face shield... I might be able to have a bit more fun.

She let out a little laugh. “Oh thank you, it was quite fun to make something fashionable, yet ready for work.” Rarity cleared her throat and leaned forward a bit and that’s when I knew there was more going on here. “I’ve heard that you’ve been taking care of Scootaloo. How is she?”

“A hoofful, I won’t lie. She had a bit of an altercation not too long ago. You probably heard about that from Sweetie Belle,” I said with a roll of my shoulders. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement and turned just enough to see it.

And there was Teller, smiling and happy as he left his house. He was decked out in an expensive suit, levitating a cup of coffee and the morning paper in front of his face, nursing it and reading as he made his way to work. And to think, he killed a pony not too long ago.

I’ve always heard that demons are the ones you least expect.

The third house down. The green one with the white picket fence. That’s where he lived.

With a smile, I decided just to keep indulging Rarity. “I got her a heavy bag not too long ago to help her work through some of her issues. And we talk. In fact, we talked this morning about her seeing her friends and your name came up.”

Rarity blinked and she let out a long sigh. “I have a feeling Sweetie Belle is going to ask if her friends can spend the night,” she said with a tired smile. “Well, I happen to be ahead of schedule, so I can watch the little dears.”

“Would you?” I asked with another plastic smile. “That’s so nice of you, thank you. I’m so used to the bachelor lifestyle that having another pony in the house just throws everything off.”

“Hmmm... Bachelor, huh?” She asked with a coy grin. “I’ve heard from a little birdie that you and Pinkie might be a thing.”

Even that wasn’t enough to sour my mood. “It’s... an experience, to be honest. I don’t think we’re a ‘thing’ in the sense of the word, but we’re... testing the waters, so to speak.”

“Ohh well, you can’t look at it like that forever! You nee-”

“Rarity! Ice coffee for Rarity!” A stallion yelled from the counter.

“Oh just one second darling, I’ll be right back.”

As much as I wanted to stay and listen to Rarity drivel on about relationship advice, I had other plans and was eager to get to work. I downed the rest of my coffee, tossed the container in the bin, and hopped the picket fence. I was gone in an instant and if Rarity asks and wants an explanation, I’ll tell her I left the burner on.

Smooth.

I ducked down a nearby alley between Teller’s house and the neighbor’s. His neighbor seemed to have all the lights off and from the position of the flag on the mailbox. They’ve already gotten the mail and is out and about.

I had time, but I had to be quick.

I started tugging at my fannypack — don’t laugh, it’s either that or wear pants — and fished out my lockpicks.

Oh, how I enjoy breaking and entering. It's like opening a present.

At the back door and with no pony in sight, I got to work and wiggled the pick while keeping tension on the torque wrench. After less than a minute of fumbling, I felt the door click and open.

Everything was turning up Daymos today. I just wanted to skip and sing, but that’d be unbecoming. And I’m trying to keep a low profile.

Teller’s house was tidy and kept clean. What you would expect from an employee at a bank who brings clients home to get them to take out a second mortgage. A few rings on the coffee table, one near a comfortable looking chair and a number strewn about on the opposite side where the couch was pretty much confirmed the suspicion.

Now, I’ll be honest. I didn’t know what to expect when breaking in. At least he didn’t have a dog, which was nice.

Dogs really don’t like me.

With a deep breath, I started to slink through the house, walking carefully and making sure not to disturb a thing. The last thing I needed to do was tip him off that someone was on to him.

Teller is someone who files for a living. Could extend to his home life...

Nothing downstairs, just a kitchen, pantry and bathroom. Check upstairs and see if he has a desk anywhere, either in a study or his room.

The Whisper was always a good companion to dark deeds done like this. And it was right. There was a bedroom upstairs, but it was economical; bed, nightstand with nothing in it and a lamp.

But behind an ajar door was a study: single desk, chair, filing cabinet, and armoire.

The filing cabinet didn’t have a lock, which was a welcome sight. Opening it up, I was greeted to a sea of manilla envelopes, folders and papers.

Okay, okay... He wouldn’t expect anypony to be up here. Maybe he put something in here involving Honeysuckle’s bank account. And it’s all dated, beautiful. Tell me Teller, are you cocky?

I looked back to a few days before Honeysuckle’s suicide. Then a few weeks. And a few months.

Nothing. Nothing nowhere that stood out.

I was starting to get frustrated. Teller struck me as the kind of pony who would keep something like this. There was a receipt for one donut bought at SugarCube Corner, dated three years back.

There had to be something. But the filing cabinet wasn’t revealing anything anytime soon.

The desk had no drawers, no papers, and had nothing but an inkwell and a quill.

All that left was the armoire.

A glance in and I could see several things. Nick-nacks, mementos, and the like from vacations no doubt. No papers, but there was something that caught my eye.

A lockbox. About average size, something you could easily carry in a briefcase. Grabbing at the door of the armoire and pulling, I quickly found it locked and let out a long sigh. Of course, it wasn’t going to be easy.

Getting my lockpicks out again, I at least took solace in the fact that the armoire was antique and easy to pop open. The lockbox on the other hoof was quite tricky and I found myself cursing as the minutes ticked by. Finally, after a solid five minutes of fiddling with the thing, the lock yielded and I found myself smiling.

“Alright Teller, what are y...y... Oh dear Gods above.”

I’ve dug up a lot of dirty laundry over the years. Horrible things, grotesque things, and just carried on. I kept myself distant and focused on the job at hoof.

This? This involved me. At least to a certain degree. And I suddenly found myself reeling.

I was wrong. Wrong about so much.

Wrong about Teller and his motivations.

And wrong about one certain judgment call this morning and felt the claws of paranoia dig into my guts.

My stomach was doing flip flops and I quickly closed the box and started putting things back the way I found it. I needed to get out of here.

“Fucking lock.” I growled through grit teeth.

Once the box locked, was in its proper place and the armoire locked, I did everything I could not to bolt. I retraced my steps and was out the back door and locking it behind me. Once I finally hit the streets of Ponyville, I made a beeline straight for home.

My mouth was dry and my mind was flooding with all sorts of possible scenarios I was about to find myself in, none of them good.

Once I did make it home and burst through the door, my heart settled down just a tad when I made Scootaloo jump a full 2 meters in the air.

“What, what?!?” She screamed out, eyes darting everywhere before fixing on me. “What’s wrong?!?”

I stood in the doorway and tried desperately to catch my breath. “It’s... It’s uh... Nothing. Nothing at all.”

“D-Daymos?” She asked shakily. “What’s wrong? You don’t burst through the door like there’s an emergency over nothing.”

No hiding it, no lying to myself anymore. Hidden parental instincts kicked into overdrive. I had a damn panic attack. I’ve read about parents going into a panic watching their children sleep and thinking they stopped breathing. I thought that was silly. Now? I think I can understand that fear.

I took another deep breath and staggered over to the couch, taking a seat next to the filly and sighing.

“Scootaloo... Has anyone ever given you the ‘Stranger Danger’ talk?”

“Uhh, yeah. Ms. Cheerilee did in class a year back. Not everypony is nice. Don’t talk with anypony you don’t know, don’t let them in the house and get an adult if you feel something’s wrong,” she said with that same worried look. “Daymos, what’s-”

“I freaked out, okay?” I snapped. “I’m ashamed, but I freaked out thinking that something happened. Something bad, but... It’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

“...Oh,” she said flatly. “Well... I'm fine, don't worry. And I wouldn't talk with somepony I didn't know or go with them. So, don't worry okay? I'm not a foal.”

Taking another breath, I glanced at the clock. 9:30 AM. “Have you taken a shower yet today?”

Scootaloo shook her head. “No, I was napping on the couch before you barreled in.”

I nodded my head. “Alright, alright. Why don’t you take a shower, then? I need to do some shopping and I’d like you to come with me.”

She perked up at the prospect. “Ohh, okay! That’d be pretty rad. Do you think I can get a few things, too?”

I forced a smile despite my swirling emotions and nodded. “Sure, I don’t see why not. Now, get your butt in gear. Time's a-wastin'!”

And with that, the little filly was off, trotting towards the bathroom and closing the door behind her. As soon as I had a bit of respite, I let my shoulder sag and bit my lip. I needed to check on some things upstairs.

Knives.

I’m going to need lots of knives.

Rope.

Hammer.

As my checklist formed and I made my way up the stairs, I stopped by Scootaloo’s room.

The heavy bag was there and in all of an instant, all those mixed emotions settled into one.

Rage.

Teller’s face was painted all over the heavy bag and I just started grinding my teeth. You don’t do that.

YOU DON’T DO THAT.

Soon I found myself in a fighting stance and looking like a boxer about to square off. That’s when the blows started raining.

My upper lip curled in a snarl and I started beating the heavy bag hard and fast, blow after blow slamming into it and the only thing I could imagine was Teller’s face with every hit, breaking and splitting open and shattering and falling to pieces like a rotten melon.

Picturing that red blood, broken bone, and shredded meat that was his face made me smile.

I stopped just as quickly as it started and took a deep breath, focusing myself.

Tonight is the night. It has to be.

* * *

The trip to the store was rather uneventful. I didn’t need any more knives, I’ve got a few I haven’t used for a while. All that meant was a trip to the hardware store.

You don’t need to explain to the pony behind the counter why you need a sack, three meters of rope and a sledgehammer unless they ask. They tend to fill in the blanks with the most obvious answer.

‘Oh, he’s probably doing some concrete work. The sledgehammer is for breaking up concrete, the heavy-duty sack is to store it, and the rope is to drag it.’

However, you actually need to voice this when asked.

“Why do you need all this stuff, anyway?” Scootaloo asked idly as she looked into the cart.

“Well, there’s some concrete in the basement that was just put over part of the floor that’s always been there,” I said with a forced smile. “It’s an eyesore and I want to get rid of it. It’s just in the corner, but I can’t just break it off with a few good stomps. It’s there good.”

“Ohhh,” Scootaloo said with a small nod. “Gonna need any help?”

She was so eager to help or do anything after a trip to the toy-store and some ice-cream. She was practically dancing after getting that Wonderbolts doll.

I shook my head. “Sorry, concrete dust. I’ll be smashing that concrete up and it’ll be all in the air and if you breathe that in, you’re in for a world of hurt. As much as I’d like the help, I think I can handle it.”

She gave me another nod and I felt a little relief. The trick with kids is not to just say no, but explain why you said no. Otherwise, they just get more persistent.

The pony behind the counter didn’t even give me two looks when I put my items on the table and just started ringing them up.

“35 bits, will that be all?” He asked with forced joviality.

“Yes, I think that’s everything.” I hoofed him the bits and I was out of the store with my purchase. A glance at the town clock tower and I let out a bit of a smile.

2 p.m. I had plenty of time.

“Well, well, well. Good to see you again.” I tensed slightly and turned to see a rather miffed Rarity.

Oh this is the last thing I need today.

You just bought a shiny new sledgehammer. Why don’t you show her?

Don’t tempt me.

“Rarity I’m sorry, I-”

“You should be! I mean, running off like that and leaving me? You better have a good excuse.”

Oh I did, you insufferable...

“I... kinda had a bit of a panic if I’m honest,” I said bashfully. “We were talking about Scootaloo and I started thinking and then my imagination kind of went a little wild. I started walking off and by the time I was halfway home, I was sprinting.”

Rarity blinked in confusion. “I’m sorry? A... panic?”

“I was at home alone,” Scootaloo suddenly said. “I mean, I’m a big filly and can stay home fine, but Daymos like, burst through the door and asked me if got the ‘stranger talk.’”

Rarity’s eyes darted between Scootaloo and I before bringing a hoof up to her mouth. “Oh dear, I’ve made a right bother of myself. I’m sorry... I was just so miffed and let it stew.”

I know the feeling.

“It’s alright,” I said with a forced smile. “I mean, I didn’t say anything and just left you hanging. Just some miscommunication, that’s all. So tell me, has school let out yet? I’m sure Scootaloo would love to see her friends.”

Rarity nodded. “Why yes, Sweetie Belle’s at the house with my parents. They’re visiting for the afternoon and I was just about to stop by Sweet Apple Acres and see if Applejack would like me to take Applebloom off her hooves for the night.”

“Well, would you mind?” I asked, motioning my head towards Scootaloo.

“Oh, why certainly!” Rarity said with a wide smile. “It’d be nice to have the girls all together again... As long as they keep the chaos down to a minimum.”

“Thanks Daymos! For everything!” Scootaloo cried happily before tackling my leg and hugging tight. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”

I gave Scootaloo and Rarity a wave as they left and let out a sigh of relief. I could get the last preparation for tonight.

* * *

I know where every body is buried in my basement. I don’t even have to think twice about where I put the shovel.

It does seem like a bad idea to bury bodies in my basement, but I think of it like this: One, I could have put them in the Everfree. And I’ve done that a few times. But everypony in this town seems to know when someone goes in that forest and the few times I did, I had to make an excuse after excuse as to why. What do you think would happen if trips into the Everfree forest became a regular thing for me?

Second, not all kills are disposed of in the basement. I have a few places scattered across Equestria from my romps in different cities. I’d say only half my kills are in the basement. The others? Never to be found again — that I made sure of.

Finally, if I’m caught, that’s it. Game over. If say, Twilight managed to put two and two together and pointed the hoof at me with the Cherry Twins case, she would have all the evidence to say it’s me. I know it, that’s how she works. That’s how the Equestria Law works. You need 100% proof.

And the price of murder in Equestria is life in prison. It doesn’t matter how many. One body, eighteen... You’re spending the rest of your days in a 2x3 cell.

So, if I am caught... what of it? I have bodies in the basement, let them find them. Better to go out in a blaze of glory.

That being said, I don’t plan on getting caught any time soon.

Twenty-seven bodies are currently sitting in the earthen floor of the basement in holes deep enough to hide a mutilated pony and laced with chemicals so not even a sniffer dog could find them.

And I’m digging hole number 28.

Teller is going to be the 28th pony beneath my floorboards.

And I can’t wait.

* * *

11 p.m.

Two quick knocks on my basement door and down the stairs bounded Pinkamena. I was left in the basement, enjoying a cola, and reading my book. The stage was set.

“Whoa...” Pinkamena said aloud.

I had a few things ready. My table was center-stage. Leather straps ready to grab whatever pony was laid on the bare metal. Next to it were my tools. Scalpels. Knives. Power tools.

I love that reciprocating saw. It was going to see a lot of action tonight.

The newest addition, which I felt was quite just, was the sledgehammer purchased earlier today.

My little bit of happiness was back. And I was oh so eager.

“Good evening, Pinkamena. And how did things go?” I asked idly as I flipped to the next page.

“Good, good... It seems like you didn’t need a lot of time to get set. Find the ‘evidence’ you need?” She asked with a laugh.

I smiled. A cruel smile, a smile that spoke volumes. A smile that cut Pinkamena’s laugh short. “Oh, did I ever. I couldn’t take it, though. We need to grab it when we go to pick up Teller.”

“...Oh. Yeah. So, uh, what’s the plan? Are we going to lure him out or-”

I cut Pinkamena short by throwing the sack at her and retrieving a small bag. Opening it up, I showed her the contents — several hypodermic needles and vials of liquid.

“Etorphine and Diprenorphine. One to knock him out, one to bring him back.”

Pinkamena’s eyes flashed between the sack and the needles. “Fucking seriously? We’re just... gonna abduct him?”

“Worked for me in the past,” I said with a bit of jolliness in my voice. “By the time we get there and get him under, it should be around midnight. Most ponies will be asleep. It’s just a matter of getting him three streets over at that point. Which is why we take alleyways and backstreets down the market district where no pony is.”

“Well... Alright, I guess. Figure you’d just carve him up at his place or something.”

I shook my head. “Ohh, no. I have plans — wonderful plans for a pony like Teller. Come on. We’re wasting time.”

Pinkamena proceeded to tie the empty sack across her chest and I stuffed my needle bag into my fanny pack. I normally like to lure my targets out, but I’m no stranger to the in-home abduction. And knowing Teller’s house made it all the easier.

I was quiet as we slipped through the alleyways and empty streets of Ponyville. The nightlife in Ponyville was nonexistent. Every pony was a shop owner, farmer, or laborer. They needed their sleep. This, I was gracious for.

And soon, I was in Teller’s backyard again, this time with a plus one, and was ready to invite myself in again.

I took out my lockpicks and quickly began to work at the lock, remembering my past motions having it open faster than before.

Pinkamena was still silent, watching my every move and following in my footsteps, much to my surprise (and delight). She didn’t need any instruction and no prompt to close the door behind her, slowly and carefully.

Soon, we were up the stairs and much to my delight, the door was open and the light was on. Not to Teller’s bedroom, but his study.

He sat at his desk, the armoire and his filing cabinet open and I could hear the scribbling of a pen. My breath did hitch at the sight of the armoire open, but the lockbox was still in place. So he either just opened it or was going to.

Either way, it set my blood on fire just thinking about it and with a few steps, I was behind him with a syringe at the ready. Teller wasn’t doing paperwork. He was drawing. And the drawing just made everything worse.

With one hoof, I spun him around in his chair and he let out a silent gasp, staring at me in wide-eyed horror. “Wha-” was all he could choke out before I slipped the syringe into his neck, making sure to hit the right vein and injected the contents. The entire time, my gaze burned into him.

“Get his body. I need to grab some things.” I said above a whisper.

The drawing was folded in half and the strongbox set on top of it and got to work.

“Jeez, this guy weighs a ton...” Pinkamena groaned as she proceeded to heft Teller in headfirst.

“Other way,” I said firmly as I worked at the lock. “He’s unconscious and going to have all his weight on his neck. He’ll suffocate in minutes and I want him alive.”

“...Oh, right.” Pinkamena said with a bashful laugh. “I’m not used to the whole ‘keeping them alive’ thing.”

The box popped open and I bit my tongue. Anger welled up again but I pushed it down. I needed a level head for now. Tossing the drawing on top of the others, I closed the box and tucked it away.

“He all set?” I asked. I saw Teller’s head for all but a second before Pinkamena pulled the strings on the sack and closed them off. “Ready... What’s in the box?”

“Something that makes this very personal. Now come on. We have to get him back.”

Pinkamena stopped and gave me a look. “What’s in the box?” She asked, sounding more intrigued than ever.

I took a deep breath and grit my teeth. “Pinkamena, grab his fucking legs. You’ll see soon enough.”

She raised her hooves defensively. “Alright, alright! Jeez, can’t a girl be curious?”

I stayed silent and instead helped her heft Teller’s unconscious body down the stairs and out the door. The hardest part was done. He was mine.

* * *

I spent the better part of an hour setting up the scene.

Teller’s unconscious body was strapped to the table and he was breathing easily.

For now.

Pinkamena’s jibes and teasing fell silent when she started to see what was really in the box.

I ran a string from one end of the basement to the other and proceeded to hang Teller’s pictures by clothespins. All he’d have to do is strain his neck — or forced — to see them. The first was a rather detailed picture of a young Scootaloo. Probably a solid 3-4 years before I met her.

The picture would be rather impressive if it didn’t also feature a rather detailed and anatomically correct image of her genitals with notes and ‘prediction’ sketches beside it.

The next picture was a Scootaloo I didn’t recognize but could be assumed to be the artist’s rendition of her if she was a full-fledged teenager. This one had several stains (which I hoped were just drool) and more notes.

Finally, Scootaloo as a full-fledged mare. Same story.

Other contents of the lockbox included a few candid shots of Scootaloo that I could only assume were taken with a high powered camera, a few locks of hair, and a mini-calendar. The calendar had a few dates each summer circled with word “Season?” written next to them.

“This guy’s fucked up.” Pinkamena finally said. “Like seriously. Holy shit.”

“He’s a pre-sexual pedophile,” I said bluntly. “I’ve only heard of them, never met one until now. He wanted Scootaloo more than anything, but unlike a normal pedophile, he wanted to groom and raise her until she was old enough. And then...” My voice trailed off, not even wanting to think about that.

“Like I said. Fucked up.”

I nodded slowly. “Time for him to make his case.” I retrieved the needle from my bag and after a few checks and taps of the liquid, I slid it into his forehoof and injected the contents.

Diprenorphine works very quickly against the etorphine and within a few minutes, Teller was moving and coming out of his chemically induced slumber. I turned to Pinkamena and nodded for her to step back. Teller was mine. I wasn’t sharing and I made that much clear when we brought him in.

“Oh hell...” He moaned out, trying to stand up. The leather straps kept him bound and I could practically hear his heart start to hammer in his chest. “Ohh no... What... What happened? Oh, sweet Princesses above...”

The Whisper was reveling in that fear. And so was I.

“No Princesses here,” I said calmly, stepping into his view. “Just me.”

I was quite a sight. There I stood in my pure white apron, my rubber gloves on, and surgical mask around my neck. “Just. Me.”

Teller thrashed against his bonds. “Wh-what?!? What are you doing?!?” He screamed. “Let me go! Let me go! HELP! HELP!”

“Ohh, scream all you want — much louder ponies than you have tried. No one will hear you,” I said, keeping my calm. “You see Teller, you and I have to have a little talk. About Honeysuckle.”

His whole body froze up and he looked to me in horror. “I-I... What? What are you...”

“Don’t play dumb. I hate it when they play dumb,” I said with a tired sigh. “I found the letters you sent to Honeysuckle. How you wanted that second chance.”

He swallowed dryly and looked away. “I... I didn’t...I didn’t say anything.”

I rolled my eyes and pulled out one of the letters. “Ahem... ‘Two years. It’s been two years since Rivet left you alone and you haven’t even looked at me,’” I said mockingly. His eyes bugged out of his head and I could see the fear in his eyes. The real fear I was looking for. “‘You run from me even now. We will be together. I promise you that.’”

I let out a laugh and crumped up the letter and threw it as his head. “You know when Honeysuckle died? I thought it was weird. Do a little digging and I find a good chunk of change leave her account. I haven’t seen where it’s gone to, but a suspicious pony might wonder if it had anything to do with the pony pressuring her.”

I was hitting all the right buttons. Teller was sweating up a storm.

“And you know what? I don’t think Honeysuckle killed herself. Tell me, Teller... Do you know who killed her?” I asked, grinning from ear to ear.

He knew.

He knew I knew and all I had to do was wait and just keep on smiling and he’d cr-

“I-I-I... I did it. I did it... Oh, gods above, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry...” He said with a sob.

That didn’t take long, I thought, a bit disappointed. I was honestly hoping for more confrontation. More squirming.

“Ohhh I know. I know you killed her. And you’re not sorry. You’re not sorry for killing her. You’re sorry for something else, isn’t it?” I grabbed him by the mane and yanked his head up to see his pictures. “Something like this?”

I could her choke and sputter. His biggest secret revealed to the world. “NOOO!” He wailed, shutting his eyes tight. “NOO!”

“Look.”

“No!”

“LOOK AT IT!” I bellowed. He kept his eyes closed, twisting his head around and away from his shame. “OPEN YOUR EYES OR I’LL RIP YOUR EYELIDS OFF YOUR HEAD!”

With another forceful yank, I brought his head right back around, and with my threat hanging in the air, he relented.

“You don’t understaaaaand...” He sobbed aloud. “She’s... So beautiful...”

“I fucking understand you piece of shit,” I hissed out, throwing his head back against the table. “I understand you’re a sick, sick pony. Who killed another pony because she wouldn’t let you into her life because she knew what was going through your head every time you saw her daughter.”

The rage I felt earlier was starting to melt away with each pained sob of Teller. I was expecting more of a challenge. More from him. I started to reach for a knife just to end it.

“And now I’m taking care of her...” I said solemnly.

Teller’s sobs started to taper out. “That’s where she was...” He said, his sobs devolving into chuckles. “Oh, I know where I’m going when I get out of here...”

My hoof froze over the butcher’s knife. “...Out?”

He let out another laugh. “Ohh yeah. You wanted justice, but who the fuck is gonna buy any of this in a court of law?” His laughs started to get louder. It didn’t sound like he was convincing me, but himself. A part of him knew. “I-I can say this was all said under duress! You forced me to say all this!” Teller just kept on laughing and laughing and laughing. “HAHA! I WIN!”

“...Who ever said you were getting out of here?” I asked above a whisper.

Teller’s laughter slowed down as my hoof drifted from knife to the handle of the sledgehammer.

I found it again.

That rage. That anger.

Teller watched as I dragged it over slowly, his laughter dead by the time I was over him. “You’re not leaving here. Ever.”

The fear was back in full force and Teller let out a wailing plead for his life, but a hoofful of cotton stuffed in his mouth cut it short.

With a final deep breath to steady myself, I brought my other hoof onto the handle and hefted the sledgehammer above my head.

First was a muffled scream to stop.

Then came a resounding snap, like a tree being broke in two during a storm.

Finally, a wail of agony.

I set the sledgehammer down and surveyed my work. Blood trickled steadily from the Teller’s leg, most likely the back part when the femur split in two and broke through the skin.

Teller’s wailing started to steady and he looked like he was on the verge of passing out.

Pulling the cotton out of his mouth, I started slapping him upside the face as he wailed in pain. “Hey, hey, hey. Don’t pass out on me. You’ll ruin everything.”

“Y-Y-You’re a f-fucking monster!” He spat out through clenched teeth. “GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU.”

That was the pain talking. No, one pony was dying here tonight. It wasn’t me.

“GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU, GONNA FUCKING GRAB THAT LITTLE CUNT. DONE WITH FUCKING WAITING!”

Finish it. Finish it. FINISH IT.

The Whisper chanted those words again and again in my head and between it, my rage towards Teller and his false promises, it was tempting.

“Fucking faggot if you don’t see how hot that little piece of filly ass is,” Teller spit out as he trembled in pain. “Gonna fuck get outta here and fucking kill ya and fucking WRECK THAT FILLY P-”

That was as far as I got before the cotton was stuffed back into his mouth. I was done hearing him talk. My surgical mask came up and he screamed obscenities at me through the gag as I slowly circled him with the knife in hoof.

All those threats and promises seemed to die in his throat as he watched the gleaming piece of 8-inch steel. Standing at his side, I raised the knife above my head and there was a muffled scream to stop, but no. I didn’t.

The knife came down and pierced his sternum. He let out a strangled wheeze as I held the knife there. I ripped it out and brought it back down. And then again.

And again.

And again.

Somewhere around the eighth or ninth stab, I stopped as it became a mechanical motion more than anything.

That was it. Honeysuckle’s killer was dead. Scootaloo’s mother had been avenged. And she’ll never know it happened.

I took a breath and steadied myself, leaving the bloodstained knife on the table.

The Whisper wasn’t there anymore. And if anything, I feel like it approved of the brutality more than anything.

I’ve never done anything like that before.

My kills are always more mechanical than anything. A confrontation, a reveal, a death... That’s it, done and over with. This? This was personal and I let it get to me. I let the rage and anger of somepony close to me being in the sights of a monster and...

I felt so good. I felt better about this kill than any recent one.

“That was... so fucking amazing,” Pinkamena said, breaking the silence. Her cheeks were flush and she looked at me with a big, giddy smile. “The fear, the taunting, the anger... the snap of his femur, oh my gosh Daymos...”

“I try my best,” I said tiredly. I wanted a shower. I wanted to go to bed. But no, a monster’s work is never done. “We need to start work on the body, I’ll-”

That’s all I got out before a set of hooves grabbed me by the shoulders and threw me into one of the chairs.

“Wha-”

I looked down and saw Pinkamena kneeling between my legs, looking up to me with a big grin on her face. But there was something more — a hunger in her eyes and a heavy blush on her face. I tried to scoot away, but the back of the chair was against the wall and her hooves were wrapped around my legs.

“Shut up. Enjoy it. I know I will.”

“What are you-DON’T PUT YOUR MOUTH ON THAT! ST-Ahhhh...Ahhhhhhh...Ohhhhh lord...Ahahahaha...”

Chapter 12: Clean Up

I had an epiphany this morning.

I realized why I’ve never wanted anypony to get close to me and vice versa.

It’s the mask.

Imagine if I had decided to go out and find a mare to add a new layer to the disguise. Being a single stallion in Ponyville — a heavily female town — is quite the oddity and it had crossed my mind a time or two.

But we would have to go through the courtship, the rituals, and the day to day slog required for two ponies to be considered a couple.

I would have to learn to accept them, and in turn, they’d have to do the same with Dayglow Mornings.

But I am not Dayglow Mornings.

Not entirely

Dayglow Mornings is the stallion with a penchant for cleaning who keeps to himself and is squeaky clean in mind, body, and soul. He can do nothing wrong.

I am not Dayglow Mornings.
I am Daymos.

A serial killer with a penchant for getting out there, getting his hooves dirty and making ponies who deserve it disappears forever.

It’s another thing to juggle. It wasn’t worth it. Having to explain where I was going. What I was doing. And why they weren’t allowed in the basement.

But Pinkamena?

She knew the real me. The really real me. She knew what I liked in a kill, how I liked to finish them, the rush I get at the end and she shares the same with me. She knows it all.

And she loved it. She loved me for being...

Me.

And she showed it to me in the most intimate way possible.

Last night was...

My word, there aren’t even any words.

The things we said to each other, the things we did.

Sweet Celestia above, the things we did.

I never thought that I’d have that particular barrier broken, much less shattered in one night.

It was... horrifying at first, I must admit. You must understand, I never really had much interest in the carnal pleasures of the flesh.

I said it before, the swapping of bodily fluids, the act... It’s unrefined. Bestial.

And last night, Pinkamena and I became beasts. Good lord, did we become beasts.

Barriers were shattered, and in its wake, two twisted souls found comfort, acceptance, and something more in each other.

We’d talk and laugh and tell stories after each... time. And then we’d get closer and closer until it started again.

I’ve never felt like this about anypony before. Because I couldn’t. But now I have a pony in my life who clicks with me on every level. Is this what it means to find a soulmate?

I could get used to this, I thought as I stared at the ceiling. My usually empty bed had another in it this morning and I appreciated the feeling of waking up warm.

Pinkamena snored ever so softly, her form pressed up to mine and burying her face in my chest.

I wasn’t lying. The thought of companionship of this level...

It was tempting. Beyond tempting. I wanted it. I wanted more.

I laughed at the thought. I could see us now.

Living the good life as a couple in Ponyville. Doing everything that couples do.

Making breakfast, going to work, finding marks, disposing of bodi-

Okay. Not everything that couples do, but we’re a strange pair.

We deserve each other.

What I don’t deserve right now, though, is the sticky feeling that must be common come post-coitus.

I definitely couldn’t get used to.

Cleanliness is next to godliness, after all. And the shower was beckoning me to start the day.

Shifting slightly in bed, I started to separate myself from her, much to her chagrin.

“Noooooo... Too early...” Pinkamena mumbled under her breath.

“It’s morning, Pinkamena dear. It’s time to get up.” I hesitated for a moment. After what we did, what was the point of being shy? “Would you like to join me for a shower?”

Her eyes started opening slowly and when they met mine, she smiled and let out a little huff. “Sure... I could use a shower after what we-”

Her voice died in her throat and a look of panic spread across her face.

I immediately tensed up. “What? What’s wrong?”

“What time is it?” She asked breathlessly.

“9:30. What’s wrong?”

With a groan, Pinkamena buried her face in her hooves. “Okay. Okay. I got time. Gotta hurry though.” Shifting in bed, she slowly started to roll over. “It’s Saturday. Pinkie sleeps in until noon on these days. A shower sounds really good right now.”

The minute her hooves hit the floor, Pinkamena let out a hiss and shuddered.

“What now?”

“Nothing. Just a good hurt. Mm... Holy fuck, last night. I still can’t believe that was your first time. And Teller... Damn. We need to make this a regular thing.”

A blush started to color across my face. I wasn’t exactly against the idea.

“Well, as much as I’d like to indulge you further, you’re on a time limit dear,” I said as I guided her towards the bathroom. “A quick shower, some breakfast and you can be on your way.”

“You really are a catch, you know that Daymos?” She said with a happy sigh. Stepping into the bathtub, she shot me a smile. “You cook, you clean, you push all my buttons and know how to please a mare. No way I’m sharing you.”

I knew what she was getting at. Monogamous relationships in Ponyville were rare. Mares in those kinds of relationships tended to be viewed as selfish.

“Well, that’s good,” I said as I stepped in with her. “Because there’s no other mare who can compare to you. You’ve spoiled me and now I can’t settle for less.”

It was more or less a white lie; I couldn't even begin to see myself with another mare. But if there was one thing I was good at, it was buttering somepony up. And I could tell by the small smile she appreciated it all the same.

With a flick of the hoof, the hot water began to fall from the showerhead and we both let out our own little sigh of relief. Mine from the pleasing feeling of hot water washing off the grime of last night and Pinkamena as I worked my hooves into her shoulders. I couldn’t help myself.

I know the pony body inside and out and to be able to handle a living one was such a new and enjoyable experience.

I especially enjoyed her reactions.

“And you massage... No sharing ever...” She mumbled. She felt like putty in my hooves.

“I’m just wondering... What are we going to do about Pinkie? She’s bound to think something’s odd about being freshly showered... And I don’t think she’ll appreciate that ‘good hurt’ when she’s wondering where it came from.” I let out a huff as it all started piling up. Good things come to an end, they seem.

Pinkamena let out a little laugh. “Pinkie thinks she sleepwalks,” she said plainly. “When something happens that might be hard to explain, I just make sure to pass out somewhere appropriate and Pinkie fills in the blanks.”

This gave me pause.

“Fill in the blanks?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Like, I was thinking of tangling myself up in some shower curtains, leaving the water running and lathering up a bit and Pinkie will all be like ‘Oh, I must have sleepwalked into the shower, slipped and fallen. That’s why I’m all wet, covered in soap and my hips hurt.”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed.

A peel of laughter at just how crazy it all sounded, but how straight she just played it out let me know I didn’t have anything to worry about on my end.

But still.

“And what about leaving my home?” I said with a tease. “What will the neighbors think?”

“Oooh... Good point. Hmm, as much as I’d love to put on a show, let’s not give them something to gossip about. I’ll slip out the back. I’m good at hiding, remember?” She gave me a little look and the wink that followed made my heart flutter a bit. We talked so casually about these things and were on the same wavelength.

Celestia above, this mare. We were made for each other. I can’t explain it any other way.

We cleaned up rather quickly. I made sure to use the lightest smelling shampoo I had, just in case.

Breakfast consisted of eggs in a basket and some hash brown patties.

“How is everything?” I asked idly as I cut into my own meal.

“Very good. Though, if you had floated that way and we had the time, I would have made a request.” I looked up from my plate and saw her smiling at me wryly. She picked up a little piece of hash brown and mouthed the word ‘bacon’ before taking a bite.

I couldn’t help but wonder how she expected me to act. To say something indignant. To be offended and end up on a tirade. But no.

“I had made plans to pick something up from a griffon merchant who was passing through town, but then I had Scootaloo fall in my lap,” I said with a disappointed sigh. “Unfortunate, too. She was willing to give me a good deal.”

Pinkamena’s smile fell from her face and she just stared at me. “You... You actually... Oh my gosh.” She leaned in and slowly started smiling again. “Daymos, you just keep surprising me and surprising me. If you do get a hold of any, let me know. I’ve been dying for a slice or two.”

I nodded slowly and finished the last bit of my breakfast. “I will, I promise.” Looking up and seeing her empty plate, I took it and started towards the sink.

“So, what’s next week’s plan?”

The question was sudden, but not unexpected. We have been discussing another excursion.

“Well, I have to check my book first, but Ponyville seems to be a magnet for killers.” I laughed at the thought and looked at her over my shoulder and got a wink in return. “So if anything comes up, I’ll let you know.”

“Alrighty then. Guess I’ll have to leave now,” she said with a sigh. I started into the dishes and hummed a little tune. Things were actually looking up. Really up.

Hearing Pinkamena walking up behind me, I slowed down just a bit and waited a moment. Soon, it felt like she was looming over me and that’s when I spoke up.

“Careful. You don’t have my scent on you anymore. Do what you’re thinking and you’ll need another shower.”

It took a second, but she let out a sigh. “Can’t even give my favorite stallion a hug goodbye?”

“Unless you have a better idea to hide any evidence you were in my home.”

She let out a grumble and next thing I know, her hooves were wrapped around me and her cheek pressed against mine. “Worth it. I’ll just roll around in the grass. Pinkie will think she sleepwalked outside, got dirty and tried to shower and slipped,” she mumbled. I let out a little laugh and leaned into her.

“Have a good day.” She said.

“And you have a good rest.” I turned just in time to catch her. “See you soon.”

And just like that, my house was empty again.

Pinkamena was gone and I let out a sigh. Could it work? Could we work?

We’re two broken ponies. We kill other ponies. We’re bad ponies, but good for each other.

I think.

I’m changing, that much is for sure.

It started with Scootaloo. I began to be able to care for another pony and actually want to look out for them. And then came Pinkamena, quickly becoming a friend and later, so much more.

This is a far cry from the old Daymos. The Daymos who retreats to his castle surrounds himself with walls and keeps out everything and everypony, happy with his little groove in the floor he’s worn out for himself.

And now, I’ve got a little filly in my home who is becoming closer and closer to me. I’m honestly surprised she hasn’t accidentally called me ‘dad,’ considering I’m the closest thing to a father figure she’s had.

And if that wasn’t enough, Pinkamena is now in my life. And she’s changed me.

For the better?

Is this all worth it?

I’m making connections. And that could cost me dearly.

“Gods above, I hope this is all worth it,” I mumbled.

With the dishes done, I started down the basement —after locking the door behind me, that is.

Thanks to Pinkamena’s activities that night, we still had a body that needed to be processed and buried.

And there he was.

Teller.

Right where I left him.

“This is gonna be harder...”

He’s had time to sit. I had wanted to use the trick Pinkamena had told me about, but the blood was thick now and settled to the bottom of his body.

This was going to be a little messy.

After getting dressed and prepped, I settled into routines and started the reciprocating saw. No matter what happened, I could always fall back onto my tools.

Some things don’t need to be changed, after all.

* * *

It was around noon and if everything was going to plan, Pinkie was going to be waking up around now and wonder about her ‘sleepwalking problem.’

“And on top of that, Scootaloo should be coming home s-”

I was wrenched by thoughts when a heavy knock echoed through the house.

Getting up, I made my way to the door and opened it. Scootaloo stood there with her two little friends and a certain orange pony I vaguely remember being Applejack.

“Well, speak of the Nightmare and she shall appear,” I said with a laugh. “I was just thinking about you.”

Scootaloo looked up to me with a smile. “Wow, you’re happy! What’s gotten into you?”

I shrugged as she made her way inside. “Just had a nice little night to myself is all. Recharged my batteries.”

I turned my attention to Applejack and slipped the mask on. “Thank you for watching over her. It’s been a little tiring if I’m going to be honest. I’m used to just taking care of myself and needed a night to myself.”

“Aw shucks, it’s fine!” She said with a wide smile. “Honestly though, Scoots asked to just stop on by to pick up a few things. I was gonna take the three down to the lake for a swim. Care ta join us?”

I shook my head. “Not that much a fan of swimming unless it’s a pool. Never know what’s swimming around in those lakes.”

Applejack shot me an odd look and opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off as Scootaloo came charging down the stairs.

“Daymos is a neat freak. It’s fine AJ. You don’t have to worry. I’ll be back tomorrow morning, okay?”

I nodded. “Sure, just take care. I’ll be home if you need me.”

“Well, alright then. You go and take care now Daymos. I’ll keep these 3 out of trouble,” Applejack said. “You’re still welcome to join us, even if you don’t swim.”

I shook a hoof as I hung in the doorway. “Thank you, but that’s alright. I’m just going to do some reading and relax a bit. You all have fun.”

And with that, they left with a goodbye and left me to my own devices.

I wasn’t lying when I said I was doing some reading, but it was rather light reading.

Opening my little black book, I went through name after name.

“Canterlot... Close by, trains are running all the time... Could convince Pinkie for a weekend date there. And Pinkamena and I can have our fun.”

* * *

I had a kick in my step, a song in my heart and felt on top of the world.

It was always like this after I took a pony’s life.

It’s like a hungry lion getting its long-awaited meal; after they’ve had their fill, they slink off to rest and bask in the feeling of fullness.

Now that my ‘lion’ had been sated, I could actually function like a normal pony for a while.

“At least until it gets hungry again.” I thought as I looked over the number of vegetables the vendor had on the stall’s display.

A few purchases later and I thought now would be a perfect time to pick up some pastries for tonight and check in on Pinkie Pie in the meantime.

Sugarcube Corner was looking rather dead at the moment and it meant it was indeed the perfect time.

Stepping inside the shop, I was greeted to the sight of Pinkie Pie at the register, cashing out a pony, but something was... off.

“Thank you, come again!” Her mane was disheveled and she didn’t carry that same air of joviality she normally did. As soon as the stallion left with his order and we were left alone, her face contorted in a mix of fear and relief. “Oh my gosh, Daymos!” She cried out. “Thank the goddess, quick! This way!”

Before I could get a word in edgewise, she had me by the scruff of my neck and was dragging me into the back room where the stock was kept.

“Pinkie, what’s wrong? What’s hap-”

She took a few deep breaths and got almost uncomfortably close. She looked scared, but more importantly, there was something I could see in her eyes. Something I never saw in Pinkie’s eyes.

“Pinkamena?” I half-whispered.

“Yeah,” she said sharply. “Me. I don’t know what the fuck happened.”

“What? What happened?”

“Pinkie didn’t wake up!” She hissed out. “I don’t know what the fuck is happening, but it’s like, 3 PM now and she’s still asleep... And it’s deep. REALLY deep. And I don’t know what to do!”

Of course. Of course things had to go wrong. With a deep breath, I put my hooves on her shoulders. “Start at the beginning.”

She nodded quickly and tried to catch her breath. “Alright, alright. I did what I told you I would. Rolled in the grass a bit, snuck back inside, popped a couple of aspirin, set the scene and let go. Pinkie’s asleep in the bathtub, I get myself all settled in.” Pinkamena swallowed dryly. “But her alarm goes off and she doesn’t get up. I wait an hour and she’s still not up!”

“And this has never happened before?” I asked calmly.

“No.”

“And why are you running around like your tail is on fire?”

“Because,” she moaned. “Pinkie runs the bakery by herself on Saturdays, opening it herself. And she’s had a butt load of orders.”

Despite her crude description, I started to grasp why she was so panicked. “And you’re not as strong a baker as she is...” I said, finishing my thought aloud. “Damnit. Alright, alright. Let me get myself washed up. I’ll help you finish any orders and-”

“-Then we can close up early and I can just say that there was an issue with the oven and that you came over and fixed it,” she finished with a smile. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

This earned me a kiss on the cheek from her and I felt myself beam. “Let’s not dawdle. If it’s anything like the last time, I’m sure there’s quite a bit that still needs to be done.”

* * *

Well, my restful Saturday afternoon turned into a workday for me. But I’m used to pulling overtime.

We finished three dozen doughnuts, a sheet cake, and three boxes of cannolis before we could close up shop for ‘maintenance.’

The Cakes would be home around 8, as Pinkamena helpfully pointed out, leaving us with a solid 3 hours to ourselves.

“Aaaaand there...” I said, pushing the oven back into place. “Now it will look like somepony was behind the oven trying to find the problem.”

“Smart thinking Daymos.” Pinkamena was busy lounging in one of the chairs. “My hooves are killing me... How does she freaking do it?”

“Good question...” I mumbled. I was still wracking my brain over a fix for this current problem. Pinkamena had tried all manner of ways to wake up Pinkie, but it didn’t work, and she was left still in control.

“I’m not built for this, Daymos...” She finally said aloud. “I don’t know if I can do the whole ‘double life’ thing.”

This gave me pause.

“Why not?”

“Why not? How the hell do you even do it?” She snaps. “Seriously, all those ponies out there who push and prod you, say things that just grate and grind? How the fuck do you not just kill them?”

Those words made my hair stand up a bit. “...How?” I asked incredulously. “Pinkamena, it’s all about maintaining a mask. You have to become another pony in every sense of the word. To every pony out there, you have to be Pinkie. If not-”

“Twilight and rest will know something’s wrong and then the worst happens,” she groans. “It’s gonna be hard, but I’ll try... I'm just so used to operating in the background. Not a lot of responsibilities when you ride backseat in the cart and now I regret not learning every one of Pinkie's annoying tics.”

I nodded slowly and took my seat next to her.

How could Pinkamena be that unhinged? Self-control is one of my highest held tenants. I’ve snapped a few times in the past, but even then I knew I could allow it. But here she is saying that she has no idea how I don’t just go around attacking everypony who crosses me.

If that had been the case, Ponyville would have a lot less rude ponies who call it home.

“Alright, alright...” She says with a long sigh. “I’m gonna try a few more things. If I’m still in control, mind if I stop on by?”

“Scootaloo comes home tomorrow morning. So we can.”

“Great. Worst case scenario, you can give me a crash course in this whole ‘mask’ thing.” Pinkamena let out a small huff. “You know, I’ve wanted to be my own mare for a long time, but that was before Pinkie made a life for herself. Now it’s just one big complicated mess.”

I nodded slowly. “It is, I’m not going to lie.” Getting to my hooves, I started towards the door. “I need to do some proper cleaning of my tools. They’ve been soaking this entire time. That and I still need to have myself supper.”

Pinkamena put on a big, cheshire grin and batted her eyelids. “Wanna take me home and make me dinner?”

I chuckled. “Sure. Just make yourself a bit more ‘presentable.’”

“Oh what do you mean by that, silly?” ‘Pinkie’ asked with a giggle. “Come on, let’s go. I’m excited to see what coltfriend has ready for me.”

“See, you can get it.”

“Yeah, but it’s a little grating if I’m going to be honest,” she mumbled. It was almost indiscernible, but the minute she said that I swear I could see her hair deflate just a bit.

“Watch it,” I said as we got out into the streets of Ponyville. “Something like that might be enough to tip somepony off.”

Instead of saying anything, ‘Pinkie’ kept her mouth closed as we passed a group of mares gossiping and cackling.

“Oh boy, this is gonna be harder than I thought.” ‘Pinkie’ said. “Anyway, what’chya wanna do for supper? Got anything yummy planned?”

I felt my lips purse at the question. I didn’t mind cooking for Pinkamena. It’s just the very Pinkie-esque way the question was asked that got to me.

“Oh, I have a few things in mind.”

Our conversation died down about after that and we walked in silence to my abode. As soon as Pinkamena made her way in, she let out a sigh and returned to her usual self.

“That’s going to be exhausting, I just know it...” she grumbled.

“Well, it’s something that you’re...” My voice died in my throat. Something was wrong here.

Someone had been in my castle.

Pinkamena noticed my sudden silence and started to look concerned and then she noticed where my eyes were going.

The basement.

The basement door was ajar.

I locked it before I left.

I know I locked it before I left, just like I know I locked the front door, which had been still locked when we arrived.

I raised a hoof to my lips and started creeping towards the basement. I opened the door slowly and laid down on the carpet. I was practically slinking forward on my belly like a snake who just noticed there was something wrong with its nest.

And downstairs into the basement, I could see a few of my lights were on. Lights I turned off already.

I mouthed the words ‘Light’ and ‘Break-in’ to Pinakmena. Her demeanor changed quickly from confusion to shock.

‘Follow my lead,’ I mouthed. Walking slowly and carefully, I started down the first two steps and waited until Pinkamena was right behind me and then locked the door.

Halfway down the stairs, I felt my blood run cold. There indeed was somepony in my castle.

Melliot.

And he was taking pictures.

My work table where Teller had laid, the bloody and soapy pool of water, my tools... He had seen everything.

My only saving grace was that Teller had been freshly buried and there was no way to know that a pony was there. Soft, damp earth did that.

There might be a chance. Hopefully ‘Pinkie’ followed me on this one.

“E-Excuse me?” I asked aloud, making Melliot nearly jump out of his skin. “What’s going on here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Melliot said. The cliche felt familiar and I just sighed.

“You broke into my home!” I yelled out, coming down the stairs. “I think I have a little more right to ask that!”

“Then what about all these... THINGS here?!?” He cried out. “There’s blood on these knives and saws! On the table! What the FUCK have you been doing down here, you freak?!?”

“I have a griffon client and friend. I know it seems wrong, but he was showing me new techniques for pig preparation and-”

“Don’t fucking lie to me!”

“I’m not lying! He came over, processed the pig and I’m cleaning the tools! He-”

“The blood has a magical signature to it!” He yelled through grit teeth. Reaching into his belt, he pulled out a little test tube with a cotton swab. Part of it was red, but it had looked like it had changed blue on part of it.

“Blood only turns blue when exposed to mananol if it has a magical signature belonging to a unicorn.” He spit out.

I looked calm and like I didn’t know what he was talking about on the surface, but on the inside, I was screaming.

He wasn’t lying.

I knew about mananol. I knew what it could mean if they got a hold of my tools. But they’d have to get them first. And I never had that problem arise.

Until now.

“Melliot, please. I have no idea what you’re talking about. Let’s just all calm down, okay?”

“M-Melliot, you’re scaring me!” ‘Pinkie’ cried out. “Daymos couldn’t have done anything!”

We were closing in on him now. I didn’t know what I was going to do when I got closer. He had me dead to rights. If anypony heard what he had to say, it would be over.

That’s when it all hit the fan.

Whether because we were cornering him or he was just that paranoid, Melliot pulled out a collapsible police baton. And without warning, he swung it at me full force.

I could feel the wind on that swing and immediately, my fighting instincts kicked in.

It was fight or flight and there was no way I was going to flee my own castle.

I let him swing again and grabbed the offending hoof. From there, it was a wrestle for power and fortunately, I had a bit more on him.

With a single swing, I brought the side of his ankle down on the edge of the sink with a heavy thunk. He screamed in pain and dropped the baton and from there, it was easy to get him into a chokehold.

He choked and gurgled as I tightened my hold. By now, Pinkamena was looking panicked.

“Get rid of him!” She cried out. “He knows!”

She was right. Melliot knew. Melliot knew everything had proof I wasn’t who I was pretending to be.

He could ruin everything.

I took a deep breath and tightened my grip. He flailed uselessly around, trying desperately to get out. He kicked, he pulled, but when I felt the click in his throat, I knew things were over.

I broke his hyoid.

He started to shake and that went on for about a minute. About 30 seconds after that, he went limp.

I didn’t stop holding onto him for another minute.

Finally, I let go.

Melliot’s bloodshot eyes stared up at me. He didn’t wheeze. He didn’t moan.

He was dead.

By now, I was the one shaking.

I’ve never killed anypony, anyone who didn’t deserve it.

Melliot was a cop.

A cop who put his nose where it didn’t belong and who broke the law, but a cop nonetheless.

“You did the right thing Daymos,” Pinkamena said plainly. “I’m honestly surprised you didn’t just do it sooner... but come on. He was gonna go right to the authorities with what he found here. You did the right thing.”

“I... I did...” I said numbly.

Did I?

Chapter 13: Falling

Pinkamena left.

She said goodnight. She went home. I went to bed.

With Scootaloo coming home in the morning, it would be hard to explain “Pinkie” in my bed without us going public.

I couldn’t sleep.

Going public.

That’s what kept me up. When do I go public?

It was one thing to kill a murderer. To sweep their body under the rug and let them slip into memory.

But I killed a cop.

An innocent cop.

He hadn’t done anything wrong. There was no way I could reason it as a just murderer.

Sure, he had broken into my home but I’ve broken into so many homes it would be hypocritical to say he deserved to die for that.

And he had me dead to rights. Had the tables been turned, I would have strapped a pony like me to a table without a second thought. He had more than enough evidence to warrant a search of my home.

Then they’d discover my trophies.

A part of me tried to reason it as self-preservation. You don’t back an animal into a corner and not expect it to bite and if he seriously thought I was a killer, then it was his fault for dying.

Right?

That thought just made it worse.

Was that all I was? An animal?

After I disposed of Melliot’s body, I spent a lot of time alternating between getting sick and curled up in the shower.

I killed an innocent. I had to accept that.

But something dug its hooks into me and made me feel even worse.

Pinkamena encouraged it. She didn’t hesitate, not even for a second.

And other thoughts started niggling at me after that one realization.

Like how Pinkamena found it odd that I exclusively went after criminals. How she found it a waste of time to need to make sure the pony was 100% guilty.

How I did not once question who she killed in the past.

Dumb old Daymos was head over hooves for her after a few words and stopped thinking with his head.

Then he started thinking with his other head.

With a rising cry of frustration, I leaped out of bed. The clock read midnight and I needed answers.

And then something else hit me.

How matter-of-factly Pinkamena told me she was going to dump me in the lake during our initial meeting. I couldn’t have been the first one she said it to. She said it with such glee, like some sort of Saturday morning cartoon villain gloating. Or B-horror movie killer.

Ponies are creatures of habit and we tend to settle into our ways.

I bury my bodies in the basement.

Where did she dump hers? It was obvious.

And I needed answers.

* * *

I stood at the water’s edge, looking at my reflection in the moonlit lake. Just the other day, I made an off-comment to Applejack about not knowing what lurks in lakes. And right now, I did and didn’t want to know.

But I needed answers.

All sorts of critters call lakes and ponds home, from leeches and slugs to minuscule bacteria only found in standing water. That’s why I don’t swim in lakes. Unless absolutely certain.

Ponyville Lake is large and enjoyed by many looking to cool off, so it’s no surprise I find trash here and there as I dive. Soda cans, candy wrappers, and other garbage.

But it had a lot of plastic garbage bags.

A lot of plastic garbage bags.

I surfaced, getting a much-needed lungful of air and went back down, zeroing in on one of the bags in question. I could see where the one I threw in for Pinkamena was among all the others.

Winter was his name. His bag hadn’t faded from a deep black to grey yet. I counted more bags. At least 20, and that’s without checking to see if bags were resting on other bags.

I came up for another lungful of air. And again. And again.

A lot of ponies went missing, never to be found. And they all rested at the bottom of Ponyville Lake. I just needed to confirm one more thing.

I was looking for the oldest bag I could find and zeroed in on it. It was grey, almost ash, and falling apart. I could see holes in it. Reaching the bag, I grabbed and gave a little tug — only to be greeted by a white, smiling skull belonging to some unlucky unicorn.

A very young, unlucky unicorn.

Not a child, but not an adult. Teen or pre-teen. The horn was still growing. The tip was broken off but looked like it had been healing, so it happened recently and while she was alive. And from the look of the metal clinging to their teeth, they would have been getting out of their braces soon.

Getting to the surface of the lake one last time, I made my way to the shore. I was cold, shivering, and sick to my stomach.

It wasn’t because I swallowed some lake water.

I didn’t care about that.

I didn’t care about much of anything right now.

I trusted Pinkamena because I so desperately wanted someone to take the mask off in front of somepony else and not once thought that maybe, just maybe, she was still wearing her’s.

There’s no way a pony that young does something to deserve death.

Pinkamena was a killer. That much was known.

But she wasn’t a killer like me.

I wanted proof, though. If not to give me clarity than to give me direction. So instead, the mask went back on. Dumb old Daymos knew better now and had plans to make.

Pinkamena wouldn’t know the wiser.

* * *

I’m so used to pulling sleepless nights and hiding it. A few over-the-counter uppers, a shot of espresso, and a cold shower can make even a college grad cramming for finals look ready for picture day.

So Applejack and Scootaloo didn’t bat an eye at me as they walked through the door.

All they saw was dear ol’ Daymos sipping his morning coffee — which may or may not have been my third cup — and reading the morning paper.

I already got over the shock of the headline declaring a local Ponyville Police officer missing and asking the public for help and instead focused on the local columns.

“Welcome back, Scoots!” I said, forcing a bit of joviality into my voice. I really couldn’t deal with this right now. I kept trying to remind myself to keep a distance. To remember this was temporary. I didn’t need this.

“Hiya Daymos!”

Before I could act, she bounded up and threw her hooves around me in a big hug.

“I know I talked to you yesterday, but it’s good to be…” She hesitated for a moment. Then she squeezed a bit tighter. “It’s good to be home.”

As if I didn’t have enough on my mind, this little filly knew just what to say make me feel worse.

Home.

She thinks of my castle as her home.

Not a place to stay and sleep and the nice pony who takes care of her.

She thinks of this as her home.

And I’m part of her home.

It was slow, but I returned the hug.

I remember some children’s story about a grouchy old pony who found friendship after years of scorning it. “His heart grew three sizes that day” is how the ending went if I recall correctly.

But all I could feel is my heart shatter.

The Whisper was right. I got too close. And I was paying for it.

I had my back to a wall, the police could bust down the door any minute if they bought a clue, the pony who knew my entire life was a psychopathic killer with a split personality, and I needed to stop her or I’d be just as responsible for the next garbage bag at the bottom of the lake.

And I had a little filly who thought of me when she thought of home.

“It’s good to have you back,” I managed to say finally.

Scootaloo let go and said something about taking her things upstairs but I couldn’t hear. My whole body went numb. Applejack was saying something and I just smiled and nodded before she tipped her hat and left.

I didn’t need this.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I made my way upstairs and into Scootaloo’s room.

“Hey Scoots, I gotta run a few errands,” I said. The words felt hollow. I felt like I was puppeteering myself. “I’ll be back in a few hours. There’s some salad in the fridge if you get hungry.”

She looked up to me with the bright purple eyes and nodded.

“Sure thing. Have fun!”

“I’ll try.”

And with that, I started down the stairs. I didn’t even realize I was walking down the street until I almost bumped into another pony. I stopped and took a deep breath.

I couldn’t get caught. I couldn’t.

It’d break her heart.

And that thought did it. I found myself repeating that again and again and again. It’d break her heart if I got caught. It would break her heart.

And I couldn’t live with myself if I was the one who broke her heart.

I wasn’t going to turn myself in.

I wasn’t going to get caught.

And I wasn’t going to let Pinkamena get away scot-free.

Even if it killed her.

* * *

The Applewood Reporter is my go-to source for Ponyville’s history and possible killers. I don’t like the Ponyville Library since Twilight moved in, as getting closer to her is always a bad idea.

Just recently, the Reporter moved all of its archives of newspapers onto microfiche, making it so much easier to look back through the years. And considering the paper’s been around for 200 years and publishes seven days a week, there’s a lot to sift through.

I always made the same excuse. That I was a history buff that wanted to see Ponyville’s recent and far past. When asked this time, I explained how I wanted to see if there were any pictures of Honeysuckle when she was alive.

Hot Type, a mare closing in on her 80s, made a cooing sound as I explained that I wanted to find more pictures of Scootaloo’s mother so she had something to remember her by. She let me into the archive without any other questions.

The mask was back on.

I did keep an eye out for Honeysuckle — not that I expected to find her — but was more interested in finding another pony.

They’d be a colt or a filly that disappeared anywhere from two to five years ago based on the rate of decomposition.

A unicorn.

And if I was lucky…

“Ohh no…”

There she was.

Sweet Sorbet.

She went missing three and a half years ago.

You could see her braces in the half-smile of her family photo.

The article said how she could be easily identified by her chipped horn — something that happened a month before she went missing.

She just turned 18.

She was a straight-A student who planned to attend Canterlot University to study culinary science.

As if it wasn’t any more damning, the Reporter quoted her mother.

“I don’t understand. She wouldn’t run away. She’s never even stayed out late once. She’s a good kid who wouldn’t hurt a fly. I just want my baby back.”

A few more articles were printed the following months, asking the public to help in any way they can.

But then that’s it.

I turned off the machine and slowly got to my hooves. I felt numb again.

I could almost see in my mind’s eye. Sweet Sorbet takes a turn down a dark alley. Pinkamena grabs her.

And has her…

Fun.

I needed to confront her. I needed to stop her.

On my terms.

On my table.

I left the Applewood Reporter, letting Hot Type know I couldn’t find anything and that I appreciated her help.

As I left, I ran into the last few ponies I wanted to see today.

Twilight Sparkle.

Twilight Sparkle and three cops.

I felt my mouth go dry but I forced a look of surprise.

“Oh! Twilight!” I looked to the cops and made myself look concerned. “What’s going on? Is something wrong?”

I was expecting them to move in and arrest me, but they stayed where they were.

Twilight gave me a grave look and nodded slowly. “Yes… there is. Did you see the news today?”

I nodded back. “I read the morning paper. Something about an officer missing, right?”

Melliot.

“Yes. And another pony went missing right along the same time.”

Teller.

“I think there might be a pattern here,” Twilight continued. “So I thought I’d check the Reporter archives for any other missing ponies.”

I could feel the noose tighten around my neck. I spaced out my kills and that a lot of ponies that I got a hold of were from out of town. Others were drifters, ramblers, and the like who revealed a side of themselves they shouldn’t have.

But if Twilight was looking at it, she might notice what no one else has — that a lot of ponies end up missing in Ponyville.

I forced myself to remain calm and nodded. “Oh,” I said flatly. “Well, okay then. The microfiche machine is warmed up for you.”

Seeing the look on her face and expecting the next question, I head her off. “I was looking for any photos that might have Honeysuckle in them.”

“For Scootaloo?” She asks.

I nod. “I looked through some of them, but with how many editions there are, I thought I’d ask Scoots later if she knows if her mom was ever in the paper.”

Twilight gives a sage nod as the three police officers look me over. One of them finally spoke after I mentioned Scootaloo.

“Ohh right, you’re the guy who’s watching the filly,” he said. “The one Melliot was ranting about.”

In that one moment, it was like I was made of glass, and all I needed was a stiff breeze to shatter me. Of all the things that could have possibly said, the only thing that could have been worse is if the cop outright said I was a murder suspect.

“What?” I asked, feigning shock.

The stallion in blue nodded. “Yeah, Melliot swore up and down he didn’t see you in the crowd,” the cop said. Twilight suddenly got very interested.

I had to be very careful about what I said next and fast about. I couldn’t give them any more than they had.

“I don’t know what to say. There was an officer at Honeysuckle’s house that wouldn’t listen to me, but that’s the only other police officer I’ve talked to,” I said, calling back on my previous statement to police. “I gave my statement to Officer Lucky after the whole ordeal.”

Twilight kept looking back and forth to the officers.

“Yeah, that’s him,” the officer grunted. “Melliot has a bad temper and sometimes lets his gut and heart lead him instead of his head.”

I gave a little shrug and made a motion to leave. “Well, if there’s nothing else? Officers, Twilight.”

I got one hoof in front of me before Twilight stopped me.

“Wait.”

I did my best to swallow the sand building in my throat and turned towards her.

“Daymos, would you be willing to make a statement?” It wasn’t so much a question. “Any information, no matter how irrelevant, might be useful in locating the missing pony.”

I gave a smile and nodded, even if every instinct was telling me to scream and run. She’s a predator and I’m the prey. Fight or flight is telling me to get away from the dangerous thing and to safety. But I can’t.

“Sure,” I manage to croak out.

Twilight nods and starts towards the Reporter. “Thank you Daymos. Can I stop by your place tonight? There are some other things I wanted to ask you about.”

I nodded, waved, and cursed myself for not moving out of Ponyville when I had the chance.

My quiet, uncomplicated life has been completely upended and I only had myself to blame.

I walked as calmly as I could off towards Sugarcube Corner. I had Pinkamena dead to rights.

I wanted to confront her, but I knew better. She was a good fighter — better than me — so a head-on confrontation was out of the question.

On top of this, there comes the question of how to make Pinkamena, and by extension Pinkie, disappear.

The thought hurt.

Pinkie is innocent. She may be annoying and a little bit crazy, but she’s innocent. She wouldn’t hurt a fly.

But I couldn’t see any way to get rid of Pinkamena without hurting Pinkie.

And there was no way I could do anything so soon after two disappearances. Two disappearances that I was very close to.

If anyone figured out Teller had something to do with Honeysuckle’s death, they could easily start looking at me, considering how close I was to Scootaloo as a guardian.

And if anyone figured out that Melliot confronted me at Honeysuckle’s house, they could assume I did something to Melliot out of revenge.

And I’m so close to Pinkie Pie, it wouldn’t make sense to look at anyone but me.

No, I needed time.

And to play the game.

I made my way to Sugarcube Corner, getting some sort of plan together. Maybe I could make it look like an accident? Or a mugging gone bad?

Either way, it had to wait.

As I walked through the doors of the bakery and locked eyes with the pink mare behind the counter, I could tell it wasn’t the innocent one.

“Oh, hi Daymos!” Pinkamena said, wearing Pinkie’s face. “How ya doing?”

Sugarcube Corner was dead — it usually was around this time. “It’s… going,” I said with my own forced joviality. “Just running a few errands. And ran into Twilight.”

Pinkamena’s eyes widened a bit and she looked around to confirm there was no one else in the bakery. “Come on, over here,” she said, dragging me by the hoof to a nearby booth.

My skin crawled as I felt her touch me. It goes to show how powerful a force love can be. Had I still been head over heels, I would have actually enjoyed the contact. Now?

I wanted a shower.

Now being touched by her felt disgusting.

I hid all of it.

I couldn’t let her know that the Love Boat had officially sank and that I was quietly planning her demise.

So instead, I let her drag me and sit me down at one of the corner booths. “Were the cops with her?”

The question was abrupt.

And I didn’t know how to answer. I knew lying was out of the question. She obviously knew something if she knew Twilight was going around with the police on her tail.

“Yes,” I said.

“What was she doing?”

“She was looking through old newspaper articles for disappearances.”

Pinkamena swore at this and started to look nervous, her hair slowly deflating and he coat visibly darkening.

“Fuck… Twilight’s not stupid. She’ll see a pattern,” she said. “Our pattern.”

I grimaced at that.

“Well, how many exactly have you… had fun with?” I asked. “And who?”

Pinkamena waved a hoof. She had told me some stories in the past, but she was always vague about who. She was more about the process.

A red flag, in hindsight.

“No one important or going anywhere.”

Temper, Daymos. Temper.

“If Twatlight’s on the case, then she’s going to figure something out,” Pinkamena said. “She’s going to see a pattern. Then she’ll do some stupid math shit or crazy magic and know the truth.”

Pinkamena chewed on her lip, hard enough to draw blood. If it was bothering her this much, she must have been on to something.

I thought Twilight and I had cleared the air about Scootaloo after she confronted me at Peppy’s but the mare was smart. She didn’t get to be Celestia’s chosen for being forgetful or naive.

“All we have to do is just lie low for the time being,” I said firmly. “Don’t draw any attention. They’re looking for Teller and Melliot but have no idea. Give it a few weeks and we’ll be fine.”

Pinkamena nodded along. “Yeah. Yeah.”

With a heavy sigh, she got to her hooves. “I got to take care of a few things and we should probably have a talk,” she said. “Come by my place tonight, around midnight. I’ll have something for you.”

This unsettled me. Ever since I realized just what Pinkamena was, I couldn’t let it go.

“What? What surprise?”

She simply smiled and tussled my hair like some sort of rambunctious child. “That’d ruin the surprise.”

Her sing-song voice did nothing to calm my nerves but I didn’t press the issue. It was a balancing act now and if I was too forceful or too aggressive, she’d know something was up. So instead, I kept playing the lovestruck accomplice.

“Alright,” I said, plastering a warm smile over my face. “See you tonight.”

She turned towards the counter, heading back to work — only to stop and give me an over-the-shoulder wink as I started to leave.

The thought of being with her for another week, let alone another month sickened me. She was a predator — a wolf in pony’s clothes preying on the innocent.

And because of her, I killed an innocent.

I wouldn’t let Pinkamena turn me into her.

I refuse.

A glance at the Ponyville Clocktower told me I still had another 13 hours before the meeting. Enough time to get something a bit more solid in my stomach and to take a nap.

I was a predator, too.

And I’d need all the energy I could get if I were going to stay one step ahead and be the alpha predator.

* * *

Scootaloo was a child, but reaching that point in her life where she was getting more mature and wanting more independence. As such, she said she was going to spend time with her friends at Apple Bloom’s and work on their homework assignments.

I told her to be safe and to get me if she needed anything.

She gave me another hug and she was off.

As soon as I collapsed into the couch, I started nodding off.

Food didn’t seem that important when you’re running on fumes. So I let sleep take me and, for a brief time, find a bit of peace and quiet.

* * *

I was over Melliot’s body. I strangled him as hard as I could, his neck creaking under my hooves as he fought back.

No matter how much I squeezed, he cried out again and again and again and again.

“Please.”

“Please.”

“Please.”

“Please.”

He was begging. He was pleading. He was crying.

I was crying too.

Because I could feel eyes on me. Eyes watching me, judging me, and moving in.

Closer.

Closer.

Clo-

* * *

I awoke with a start, my heart hammering in my chest. In my panic, I flailed to get to my hooves and get away from something but instead ended up falling off the couch.

As I laid on the hardwood floor, groaning in pain, and thinking it couldn’t get any worse…

“You okay?” She asked.

I nodded and started toward the kitchen.

“Just a bad dream,” I said sourly. “Had trouble sleeping last night and thought I’d have a nap.”

I gritted my teeth and poured myself a cold cup of coffee. I wasn’t exactly rested, but I didn’t want to go back to sleep again.

I could still remember the eyes.

“Oh, alright. We doing leftovers again for dinner?”

Part of me wished my life was mundane. I wish I just had a “bad dream” and woke with a start and was going to spend the rest of the night talking to Scootaloo over reheated eggplant.

But that’s not me.

“Yeah, there’s some eggplant in the fridge, I’ll heat some up,” I said.

I needed something to eat.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Dinner was a quiet affair. I wasn’t really in the mood to talk and Scootaloo picked up on that.

She asked me if anything was wrong.

Perceptive little filly.

I lied, of course. I told her nothing was wrong. That I wasn’t currently in a state of panic and plotting the death of the most popular pony in Ponyville.

But a part of me — a small part of me — wanted too much to tell her everything. To tell her what I was and what I’d done.

I think at the end of the day, I’d rather have Scootaloo hate and fear me than to watch me go away in hoofcuffs.

I kept trying to see how this could end any other way.

I was so confident earlier in the day. It seemed so simple. To just wait for the perfect time to strike and then kill Pinkamena. And by extension, Pinkie Pie.

But I had grown close to her and it’d be so easy to connect the dots after a thorough investigation by even the most simple of detectives.

I made my way through the streets of Ponyville, the clocktower off in the distance close to midnight. I had some ideas to further myself from Pinkamena but it would require some delicate maneuvering and expert manipulation.

Getting to the cellar of Sugarcube Corner, I knocked as I did before and waited. It took a moment, but the door opened and I was met with Pinkamena’s manic grin.

“Come on, come on! I got everything ready?”

I raised a single eyebrow and followed her down. “What do you mean ‘everything’?”

I wish I had the Whisper. It had been dead silent since I had killed Melliot. Not even a little chastising or bragging. Not even a single “I told you so”.

It was just…

Gone.

“I got everything ready. We solve all our problems in one fell swoop and go on to live happily ever after!”

We reached the bottom of the stairs.

And there she was, hanging on chains from the ceiling.

Twilight Sparkle.

The manacles dug into her hooves and neck. She was in the middle of thrashing about when it finally registered who I was looking at.

The gag in her mouth stopped her from saying anything, but the look on her eyes told me everything she needed to know. She looked right at me and didn’t break eye contact as Pinkamena started talking.

“It wasn’t hard to convince her to come over for a sleepover,” Pinkamena giggled. “I just put on Pinkie and talked about how I’d been so scared lately and that a sleepover wouldn’t just be fun, but safe too!”

Pinkamena cackled and led me over to a table full of knives, saws, and bags.

“We’ve only got one shot at this, but it’s the perfect timing,” she said. “Golden Harvest’s grandmother finally kicked the bucket and she’s being buried tomorrow. I remember how you said burying a body in the graveyard would be the perfect cover and there’s a grave just waiting to be used!”

I had felt so numb on the way here, but as Pinkamena talked I felt something.

“We just have to dig a few extra feet, dump her body in, put the dirt over it, and presto!”

A fire started burning in me. I started grinding my teeth as she talked, each syllable pushing me further and further.

“No one will ever suspect a thing. Sure, the Princess will throw a big stink and start looking for her but who will think to look in a grave? They’ll all be looking in the Everfree Forest or Whitetail Woods.”

I could feel my blood pounding in my ears and my body start to shake with rage.

“We play our cards right and everypony will forget about that dumb cop. They’ll keep looking for Twilight, holding out hope she’s alive as long as they don’t have a body. Give it a few years and she’ll slip into memory.”

Pinkamena lead me over to where Twilight was hanging and smiled that manic grin as Twilight looked between the two of us in growing horror.

“And it’ll be easy,” Pinkamena said. “I mean, come on. With the two of us, this will be a piece of ca-”

I didn’t let her get any further. I couldn’t take it anymore. Having Pinkamena hang off of me as she contemplated Twilight’s murder in front of me made me sick to my core. I couldn’t take it anymore.

With one mighty shove, I sent Pinkamena sprawling.

“What the fuck are-”

I didn’t let her get another word out. With a mighty swing, I clocked her square in the mouth. I didn’t knock any teeth, but I split her lip in the process.

“YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” she cried.

“I’m the motherfucker?!?” I cried back. “You’re the fucking psychopath who’s trying to make me kill an innocent pony! AGAIN!”

Pinkamena sprung to her hooves and took a low stance, getting ready to pounce. I grabbed a nearby knife and got ready.

“Oh come on, you’re really trying to pussy out? I thought you better, Daymos,” She said, spitting blood. “She already knows everything. Just like the cop. No point in chickening out now.”

We circled each other like wild animals, one waiting for the other to pounce. I could see Twilight’s face now and again as we circled and it didn’t make things any better.

The jig was up. I wasn't Dayglow Mornings anymore to her.

“So what, you’re going to let her go? After everything you’ve done?” She punctuated the sentence by spitting blood on the floor. “After everything we’ve done? I thought you were better than this. Coward.”

I didn’t say a word. I wasn’t going to let her get into my head. I didn’t care if Twilight knew everything at this point. My life was over. And I was going to take Pinkamena down with me if I had to.

She continued.

“And what, do you think you’re some fucking hero? Killing pedos like Teller?” Pinkamena laughed. “You’re a bad pony, just like me Daymos. Stop pretending.”

“Shut up,” I growled.

Pinkamena gave a fake pout. “Awww, is Daymos mad? Well sorry, the truth hurts. You’re a bad pony who thinks killing bad ponies makes you a good pony. Sorry to tell you this, but no matter how you cut it, you’re a monster. Just like me.”

My anger was bubbling, but I kept trying to focus.

“If you want, I can dig up Melliot and we can ask him if you’re a monster or not.”

That did it.

I couldn’t contain it anymore and took a swing at her. There wasn’t any screaming or telegraphing, just one kick slice that sent Pinkamena hopping back.

It was only as I looked at her smile did I realize how open I was.

She jumped forward and buried two hooves in my face, sending me sprawling a good few meters across the floor.

But I knew what she was going to do next. She was going to pounce on me.

And Pinkamena didn’t know all my secrets.

That griffon culinary school was taught by a former carnival performer. And as a joke, he taught us how to throw knives near the end of the semester for extra credit.

And I was so happy he did.

I let the knife loose, sending it flying at her. And I have to admit — it was so rewarding to see that smile drop into a look of surprise and regret.

The knife buried itself into her shoulder and I ducked out of the way as she hit the ground, cursing up a storm as she did.

I tried to get to my hooves, but Pinkamena was faster. But instead of going after me, she galloped up the stairs and into the streets.

By the time I reached the cellar door, she was gone into the night.

I was bruised. I was battered.

But most of all, I was beaten.

I hurt Pinkamena, but she was still out there. And she’d be back. I was a loose end.

And I still had another problem.

Making my way back down the stairs, I prepared to make the worst decision of my life.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked Twilight in the eye. She was in a complete panic and had been crying. I briefly wondered just why she hadn’t used her magic when I realized she couldn’t.

Pinkamena had gone all out. An inhibitor ring sparked as Twilight futilely tried to cast something, anything.

Taking a deep breath, I began to speak.

“Twilight.”

She flinched and moved back as I took a step forward.

“Please, I’m not going to hurt you. Okay?” I looked around and found what I supposed was the key to Twilight’s restraints.

“I’m going to let you out,” I said calmly and slowly. “Just please. Listen to me. Let me explain. Okay?”

I felt like I was talking to a wild predator. Twilight didn’t know it, but I was more scared of her than she was of me. And I couldn’t just leave her here.

I said that a few more times as I undid the manacle around one of her hooves and her throat.

“Just let me explain.”

I reached out and took the inhibitor ring off her horn and moved to the last manacle.

“Just let-”

My throat closed up as I looked to Twilight and realized my folly. The fear in her eyes was gone and instead bore into me with a righteous fury.

I had only seconds to watch as Twilight’s horn charge a beam of magic that slammed into me with the force of a freight train. I was dimly aware I hit the opposite wall as I slowly slid down, my whole world growing dark.

As I started to slip into unconsciousness, I watched Twilight free herself and moved towards me.

Before I fell into darkness, I heard what I was waiting for.

I told you so.

Chapter 14: Savior

I was slow to wake up. My head was throbbing, my mouth was dry, and dinner felt like it was at the back of my throat.

I had no idea how long I was out for, but I knew Pinkamena was still out there and needed to go. But when I tried to stand up, I found my hooves shackled to a chair.

“Good. You’re awake.”

And then it all came rushing back.

I looked over to see Twilight at a table, preparing a number of tinctures and chemicals I didn’t recognize immediately. I opened my mouth to say something, anything.

She didn’t seem to care what I had to say.

Twilight’s horn shone and a beam of light hit me right between the eyes and all I could get out was a pained grunt before my whole body went slack.

I was still awake, just paralyzed. My gaze was down at the ground and I could feel myself start to drool.

“What is your name?” Twilight asked.

Without any conscious effort on my end, my body spoke for me.

“Dayglow Mornings.”

“Oh goddess. She hit me with some sort of truth spell,” I thought, panicking.

Those were supposed to be illegal. Ponies have rights. You’re not supposed to force answers out of somebody without a very good reason.

“Where is my friend? Where is Pinkie Pie?”

“Oh, that’ll do it.”

Again, I answered without a choice. “I don’t know.”

I could hear Twilight’s teeth grind.

“Yes, you do. Where is Pinkie Pie?”

“I don’t know.”

This got a frustrated scream out of Twilight and another blast of light. It was like every nerve ending in my brain was on fire and all I wanted to do was scream, but couldn’t. I could feel tears forming in the corners of my eyes and for a brief, horrifying moment I thought the Princess’s student just liquified my brain.

But I could still hear Twilight’s hooves slowly pace back and forth in front of me and as the pain ebbed, I could feel myself think again.

“Okay. Different question. Who was that thing that ponynapped me?”

“Pinkamena.”

Her hooves stopped.

“What?”

“Pinkamena.”

“Okay, what is Pinkamena?”

“She’s a split personality that Pinkie’s unaware of. She’s a murderer that’s lived in Ponyville for years. I loved her.”

That last bit didn’t surprise me, but it still hurt to finally say it out loud. I could hear the scribblings of parchment as Twilight wrote down what I said, uncaring of my internal plight.

“Assuming this is actually true and you aren’t being misled or misinformed, why did you and ‘Pinkamena’ want to kill me?”

“Pinkamena wanted to kill you because you were actively investigating the disappearance of Officer Melliot,” my body droned on. “I didn’t want to kill you.”

Melliot’s name got a deep breath out of Twilight.

“Alright. Who killed officer Melliot?”

“I did.”

I could hear Twilight’s breathing hitch and whatever questions he was going to say next die in her throat. Instead, she took a deep breath and steadied herself.

“Why?”

“He broke into my home. Broke into my basement. Found my tools. Would have found my trophies. I panicked. Pinkamena pushed me.”

The scribbling stopped. “T...Trophies?”

“Yes.”

Silence filled what I began to recognize as Twilight’s basement. After a minute or so, she got close to me and lifted my head so I was looking into her eyes.

“Dayglow Mornings. Have you killed before?”

Her gaze was hard, but I could see the sadness in her eyes. I was technically her friend. And any other time, I would have lied to protect her feelings and friendship. But I couldn’t.

“Yes.”

Twilight’s face contorted in a mix of disgust and rage. “How many?” she asked.

“Thirty-three ponies, four griffons, and a yak.”

Twilight dropped my head like she was disgusted by what she was holding. Like I wasn’t a pony in her eyes anymore.

Just a monster.

“WHY?!?” She cried out.

My response was just as much a surprise to me as it was to her.

“Because I had to.”

“What?” Twilight asked in shock. She didn’t mean to continue the conversation, but I was bound by the spell.

“All of those creatures deserved it. They were monsters that hurt others. They weren’t going to stop.”

“And what about Officer Melliot?” Twilight asked sharply. “Did he deserve it?”

“No,” my body said. “He was innocent. And I hate myself for that.”

I wasn’t wrong.

“And the others? What about them? What did they do to deserve death?”

I don’t think Twilight was ready for the can of worms she had just opened. I started with my first.

“Yardstick: pedophile and child-murderer. Buried foals in his personal flowerbeds after he was done with them.”

I could hear a small gasp from Twilight and she made some sort of noise to ask a question, but the names just kept rolling.

“Potter Barn: serial abuser and attempted murder. Lugnut: rape and murder. Cobalt Blue: ponynapping and torture. Cloudview: ponynapping, sexual torture, and murder. Windchill: murder and cannibalism. Lily Valley: serial poisoner, torture, murder. Stained Gla-”

“Stop, stop, STOP!”

Twilight had tried to over me and get me to stop answering her question but I was still bound by the spell. So for lack of any better idea, she hit me with a bright beam of light again. Only this time, I sucked in a deep breath and let out a groan of pain.

I had control again, but I had no idea for how long. And time was of the essence.

“Twilight. Please. You have to listen to me.”

She looked at me with wary eyes. The same kind of eyes one would give a predator. She didn’t like that I could talk again. She didn’t like that I had some semblance of control.

“It’s true. I’m a killer. I’ve done a lot I’m going to need to answer for but right now, Pinkamena is out there and somepony is going to get hurt because we were here talking.”

She looked at me and the papers, trying to figure something out.

“I just… That can’t be Pinkie. It can’t.”

“It isn’t,” I said, pulling at my restraints. “It’s Pinkamena. In her words, Pinkie is in some sort of deep sleep right now and can’t wake up.”

Twilight was hanging on my every word and I could tell that even without the spell, she was believing me.

“She’s been like that for days. And she knows that we’re still alive and she doesn’t want that. She wants to go on with her life — her new life — without any problems.”

Twilight was biting her lip hard enough to draw blood as she listened.

“Listen, I don’t care what happens to me. You can take me to Celestia herself to hang for what I’ve done, I don’t care anymore.”

I did care, but that was beside the point.

“Just trust me for tonight,” I pleaded. Her eyes went wide at the very idea. “And after that, I’m yours.”

“Why should I trust you?” She sneered.

I thought for a moment and truth be told, I wouldn’t trust me in this situation. But I did have one idea.

“Hit me with that truth spell again,” I said.

“Why?”

I hated giving her more leverage over me, but it was needed. The game was up and dear old Daymos was done for. The best I could do is show there was a reason for all the chaos.

“You can find out if I’m trying to trick you… and you can ask me about the Canterlot World’s Fair and the day Cherry Fizz and Cherry Drop disappeared.”

Twilight’s jaw dropped and she took a few steps back. “You… You didn’t.”

“Please. Trust me.”

The unicorn who held my fate just stared at me with unending ire before her horn glowed again and that familiar sense of paralysis overtook me.

“What happened to Cherry Fizz and Cherry Drop and how were you involved?”

And with that, I told her everything. Thanks to all of it being magically forced, I was able to go into great detail how Cherry Fizz and Cherry Drop dragged me back to their hotel room. How I attacked both of them after confirming what they had planned for me.

How I had no idea that she would be there or that we would meet.

“Why didn’t you just report it to the police?” Twilight asked with self-righteous air.

“I had no physical evidence to present, nor any way to prove what they had planned,” my body answered. “By the time the police were involved, they would have disappeared or have killed again.”

“Would you have killed me had I walked in while you were in the middle of disposing of their bodies?”

“I don’t know.”

I started cursing myself. Twilight had control again and she wasn’t going to let sleeping dogs lie.

“And if I let you go right now, would you kill me?”

“No.”

“If I let you go, would you kill Pinkamena given the chance?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“She’s going to hurt the only pony I care for.”

My mind reeled as it all came into focus. I’d been thinking too broad. Twilight was thinking of what I said and how I flat out admitted I wanted to kill Pinkamena, but I didn’t care. There were bigger stakes.

A final ray of light hit my eyes and I found control returning. I had learned quite a bit about myself thanks to the truth spell, but as it turned out, my subconscious was a lot more observant than I was and better at seeing what was right in front of me.

Because it was only then that the severity of the situation actually hit me.

I was afraid Pinkamena would go out and hurt another innocent pony, but I thought I had time. Not once did I ever consider that the pony she might hurt be someone I care for.

I started thrashing as hard as could, trying to break out of my restraints, much to Twilight’s chagrin.

“What are you doing!?”

“I just hurt Pinkamena!” I yelled, tugging harder. All I accomplished was tearing up my wrists. “Who do you think is going to pay for it if she can’t find me?!?”

It took a second, but Twilight finally figured it out.

“Scootaloo.”

“YES!” I screamed, tugging harder. “NOW LET M-”

The words died in my throat as the restraints came off. I would have ran for the door, but a field of force encased my body.

“You are not to kill Pinkamena. You are to bring her back alive,” Twilight declared. “We’re going to find some way to get rid of Pinkamena and bring Pinkie back. Understand?”

I couldn’t nod, but a single grunt sufficed. A tickle went through my entire body as the forcefield collapsed.

“I put a tracking spell on y-Hey!”

I didn’t care.

I didn’t care if she was tracking me or just put a bomb in my head. I galloped out of the Golden Oaks Library and into the night air of Ponyville.

It was 12:30 a.m. according to the clock tower. I had been out for at least half an hour.

I wasn’t about to let Pinkamena hurt that little filly and I didn’t care what Twilight had to say about it.

“I’ll fucking kill her if she touches her.”

* * *

I gave no pretense to subtlety. My front door was already open. I had been too late.

I wasn’t a killer on a mission for revenge. I was a parent at this point, panicking over the state of their child.

“SCOOTALOO?!?” I called out.

No response.

I barreled up the stairs and threw the door open to her room.

Empty. I didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. I just felt sick and was ready to fall to pieces at a moment’s notice.

But I needed to be strong and put all those swirling emotions into a tight little box that I could unleash on Pinkamena later.

There was no blood, no signs of a struggle, and there wasn’t enough time to clean up.

Looking around for anything, any clue, I found it.

A half-empty bottle of etorphine.

My half-empty bottle of etorphine. Pinkamena had been in my basement again. I didn’t know where the needle was, but I’d wager it was right alongside the bottle of diprenorphine she most likely took with it.

And if she were knocking Scootaloo out, she’d need a place to have her…

Fun.

I rushed out the door again, vaguely aware of Twilight yelling off in the distance for me to slow down.

I didn’t. I didn’t have much time.

In my darkest thoughts, the only thing I could hope for was that Pinkamena wanted me to watch as it happened and that I wasn’t too late.

* * *

Ponies sleep like the dead.

I galloped through the streets as fast as I could — almost barreling into an empty market stall — just to get to Sugarcube Corner as fast as I could.

I threw the doors open and ran down inside and found my worst fear.

There she was.

The little filly who had found a way into my heart.

Tied to a table.

Pinkamena held a knife in her hoof and from the look on her face, she was expecting me.

Her shoulder was bandaged up and she walked with a limp, but the look on her face and the way she held herself made it clear who was in charge.

“Daymos, Daymos, Daymos. Dear predictable Daymos,” Pinkamena chastised.

“Wha-”

“Shhh. You’ll wake her.”

Taking out a little pocket mirror, Pinkamena brought it to Scootaloo’s face.

And I won’t lie, I almost cried with relief when I saw that mirror fog up.

“Oh good, she’s still alive,” Pinkamena said flatly. “I had no idea how much of that stuff I was supposed to use. Thought I killed her… too early.”

She turned to me and for once, she wasn’t wearing that manic grin.

Pinkamena actually looked… hurt. Betrayed, even.

“Why Daymos?” She asked. “I honestly thought we had something special. I thought I finally found somepony who loved me for me.”

I honestly didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing. And that didn’t help one bit.

Pinkamena grit her teeth and brought the knife down, inches away from Scootaloo’s head.

“I thought I finally found somepony who understands!”

There was no way I could get to her without that knife coming down on Scootaloo. And trying to reason with her was out of the question. She hated me and wanted me to suffer.

“You talked about wanting to cut out another pony’s heart and making them watch to show how much they hurt you. I thought I’d do the next best thing,” she said, bringing the knife closer to Scootaloo’s face. “Maybe then you’ll understand.”

So, I did the only logical thing…

“You want to know why?” I asked, laughing. “Because you're a psycho bitch, that’s why. I can’t believe I was so lonely and desperate that I couldn’t see that.”

Pinkamena’s eyes went wide and her jaw went slack. She wasn’t expecting that.

She was expecting begging and pleading. She wanted me to suffer, just like every other kill before her.

She wasn’t used to ponies fighting back.

She opened her mouth to say something, but I didn’t give her the chance.

“I mean honestly, beyond that? You’re a third-rate killer with a fourth-rate schtick,” I said with a condescending scoff. I hoped I wasn’t playing it up too much, but I really had to twist the knife if this was to work. “What, you’re a killer who loves toying with her victims and gets off on it? You’re not the first I’ve run into and you won’t be the last.”

Pinkamena pulled the knife from the table and brought it up and over her head.

“Shut up! I’m warning you, I’ll-”

“You’ll what? Kill the kid? And then what? Die here?” I said, laughing aloud. “What do you think I’m going to do to you if she dies? Fall to pieces and cry?”

Pinkamena’s face started to fall as she looked between me and Scootaloo.

“You really thought you’d get out of here alive after all this?” I asked, laughing harder. “Goddess above, you’re so stupid.”

That got her scowling. “Shut up,” she spat.

“You know, you love insulting Pinkie for being an airhead, but at least she knows how to plan ahead.”

“SHUT UP! SHUT UP!”

The final push.

“You really are her shadow.”

With an angry roar, Pinkamena lunged at me with the knife. Just as planned.

The Whisper was right. Pinkamena’s a psychopath and I’m a sociopath. And I played right into that to get her to focus on me and not Scootaloo.

The truth is, I would cry if she killed Scootaloo. But I wasn’t lying when I said she’d die here.

I’d be killing Pinkie Pie in the process and that would haunt me till the end of days, but no one deserved to be controlled by this monster.

Pinkamena and I rolled on the ground, each trying to get control of the knife that would seal the other’s fate.

Just as I thought I got a grip, Pinkamena threw a punch that caught me in the throat. My breath caught, and I swore I felt something pop. I tried to suck in a breath, but couldn’t.

Things weren’t exactly going to plan, and I had to get control back, but the lack of air weakened me just enough for Pinkamena to get the knife back. And if things couldn’t get worse, Twilight came barreling in.

“Pinkie!” she cried. “Please, stop this! You’re-”

“DON’T CALL ME THAT!” The not-Pinkie bellowed, lunging at Twilight. Credit to her, Twilight put up a barrier just in time as she Pinkamena came swinging with the knife.

“Listen to me! This isn’t you!” Twilight yelled, trying to get through to her. “Pinkie, please!”

Pinkamena just let out a feral scream and started slashing harder and faster, Twilight’s barrier cracking fast. I got to my hooves and sucked in a much-needed breath, just as the barrier fell.

Twilight was acting on instincts and charged a spell, only for Pinkamena to pounce and headbutt her, right between the forehead and horn. A brilliant move, given the situation. But I didn’t have time to admire.

Twilight screamed in agony as the spell dropped and caused a force-feedback that sent her reeling.

Pinkamena took advantage of the opening, but so did I. I launched myself at her and went right back to fighting for the knife.

Twilight would be down for the count for at least a few minutes, so I had to do this fast.

“I hate you. I hate you. I hate you,” Pinkamena chanted under her breath as she kicked and bit to get control of the knife.

With one final tug, I got the knife loose from her grip. But the struggle sent it flying across the room and clattering to the floor. There was a brief pause as Pinkamena’s eyes followed it before they went up. I followed her gaze and saw the pile of knives at the table.

Without another word, we both scrambled to our hooves and made a dive, trying to find a weapon to end this all. Pinkamena connected a hoof with my eye, but I sent her sprawling with a quick jab to her shoulder.

By the time she was picking herself up off the floor, I had the first knife I could find in my hoof and was pouncing on top of her.

I brought the knife above my head and brought it down on her, intent on piercing her heart.

But she caught my wrists and held the blade away, just an inch away.

I stared hard into her eyes, baring my teeth and growling as I tried hard to end her life.

“Please. Please Daymos. Don’t,” she pleaded. “You’re my soulmate.”

I was gritting my teeth so hard, I could feel them creak. I didn’t give her what she wanted. I wasn’t playing here.

This wasn’t murder.

This was a mercy.

I got the knife back and made sure to wrench her bad shoulder in the process, getting a scream out of her.

I brought the knife up.

And put it in her chest.

A small gasp left Pinkamena as the air left her lungs and she stared at the knife, half in and half out of her chest as a small trickle of blood escaped the wound.

She looked up to me, that same betrayal in her eyes as before. Pinkamena tried to mouth something, but her eyes started fluttering and rolled back into her head as she went slack.

I held the knife there for a moment longer, as if to be sure she was actually dead and pulled the knife out…

Only for the blade to pop out.

The adrenaline was wearing off and I was having a hard time grasping just what happened through the haze, but it finally clicked when I realized Pinkamena was still breathing.

The knife I grabbed was the trick knife.

The one she used on me before.

The one that looked so much like a real knife, but collapsed in on itself and deposited fake blood.

I heard Twilight getting up and turned to face her. She looked at me, the knife, and Pinkamena and let out a scream before charging her horn.

I held my hooves up and got out the word “Wait” before getting blasted again.

While the last time she did this she went to stun, this felt more like she was trying to kill me. The force of the blast sent me flying at high speed and I could faintly smell the distinct odor of burning hair and flesh before I collided with the far wall.

And everything went black.

* * *

I woke up with a start and a groan, the pain in my chest and head unreal. Looking down, I found myself hoofcuffed to a bed. Not a hospital bed, but the kind of bed you’d bring out for unexpected guests to spend the night.

At the very least, I had been bandaged up. Looking around, I found three things that shocked me.

First, I had been out for at least three hours if the clock on the far wall was right.

Two, I was back in Twilight’s basement laboratory.

Three, Pinkamena was there with me.

At least, I thought it was Pinkamena.

She wasn’t chained to the bed like I was. She was bandaged up, dead asleep, and looking… brighter.

Her hair had that usual Pinkie-poof and her coat was at least a few shades brighter.

I swallowed dryly, looking around and finding Twilight back at her worktable, only sparing me a glance before going back to work.

“What-”

“I’ve sent a letter to Princess Celestia,” she said flatly.

My eyes bulged and I felt my heart drop. I had hoped to get out of this situation, but those seven words dashed any and all hopes for a happy ending for Daymos.

“She’s normally up in a few hours to begin the raising of the sun,” Twilight continued. “I told her what happened. And to send a contingent of royal guard for your immediate arrest.”

I fell back into bed and felt numb.

“What about Scootaloo?” I asked. I didn’t know if I meant after the Pinkamena incident or what would happen to her in general.

“She’s upstairs. Her vitals are steady. I’ll be bringing her to the doctor’s in the morning for a complete physical.”

“And… her?”

Twilight let out a long breath and got up from her workspace. She walked over to the foot of my bed and glared down at me.

“I thought you killed her,” Twilight said. “And… in a way, you have.”

I didn’t know what to make of what Twilight meant, so I kept my mouth shut.

“I didn’t know what to do, so I brought the three of you to the Library and started trying to get a hold of the Princess,” Twilight said. “And then, Pinkie woke up. Not the other.”

“Not Pinkamena.”

Twilight nodded.

“She was confused, in pain, and panicked. She had no idea what was going on or why she was bleeding. I tried to calm her down, to explain what happened, but she was too hysterical,” Twilight said. “I had to put her under. Her vitals are steady, but I’m afraid to wake her up.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Had you just subdued Pinkamena like I said, none of that would have happened,” Twilight growled. “I could have done-”

“Done what?” I snapped.

Twilight shut her mouth and looked at me angrily. “Anything. Anything other than traumatizing her.”

“Well,” I said flatly. “It seemed to work. If Pinkie’s back in control, that means Pinkamena’s not. And you might be able to fix her.”

Twilight didn’t say anything. She just continued to stare accusingly, as if her gaze could bore a hole through my skull if she tried hard enough.

Listlessly, I fell back into bed and tried to get some rest. I was so tired.

So very tired.

And I didn’t care anymore.

About anything.

* * *

A loud thump and a crash got my attention and I tried to jump out of bed, only for the restraints to keep me locked in place.

Above me, I could hear raised voices arguing but couldn’t make them out.

Pinkam-

...Pinkie Pie was still sleep in the bed beside me and the clock told me it was an hour before sunrise.

“Princess, please! I don’t think...”

My stomach fell through the bed, and I did my best to brace myself.

The Sun Princess was here to judge me. I heard heavy hoofsteps, more prominent than an average pony coming down the stairs. There was the sound of armor clattering against itself. The hefts of spears touching down on the hardwood floor. This was it.

But there was something I didn’t expect — a very distraught Twilight.

“Princess Luna, please! I don’t see why you want to judge him personally!” She said staunchly. “And I sent that letter to Princess Celestia! How did-”

“All messages and missives intended for my sister are sent to me during night court,” the alicorn said, staring down her muzzle at me. “And I thought it appropriate to render swift judgment on the matter. Now please, leave us.”

Twilight balked and bristled at the order. “Princess Luna, I have to insist I stay here!” she cried. “He’s a violent criminal! And this is not the olden days. You can’t just act as judge and jury here! We need to bring him back to Canterlot for trial and-”

“Twilight Sparkle, I’m ordering you as a diarch of Equestria to leave the room. Now.”

I had never met Princess Luna but knew of her return. She was just as majestic as her sister. Tall, strong, commanding, and of an air that let everypony in the room know just who was in charge. And I had no idea she was so old fashioned. She was going to carry out a trial — as judge, jury, and executioner by the way it looked.

Twilight gaped for a moment before squaring herself and standing up straighter.

“No. I refuse. There’s no way Princess Celestia would let-”

“I carry my sister’s authority,” Princess Luna growled. “Are you challenging that now?”

Twilight Sparkle, to her credit, held Princess Luna’s gaze. “I have a direct line. I’m going to write to her. I’m going to have her confirm this is how she wants things done. I’m-”

With a small flash, Twilight’s whole body went stiff and her eyes turned to pinpricks. Princess Luna, her horn still glowing, moved in and lowered herself to Twilight’s eye level.

“I wish you would have listened to me. You have only made things more complicated.”

With a bright flash, Twilight Sparkle fell limp to the floor.

“Carry her up to her bed, I’ll be with her momentarily,” Princess Luna said to one of her guards. “Now…”

The princess of the moon turned her eyes to me, and at that moment, I knew.

I was a dead stallion.

“Dayglow… Mornings.”

My name on her lips cut me to the core, but her eyes were what really terrified me. I knew those eyes. I was still tied to the bed but I tried desperately to shrink away.

To get as far as I could from a real apex predator.

For the briefest moment, her gaze drifted away and to Pinkie Pie next to me. Her gaze softened and she let out a long sigh.

“Doctor Stitch, Doctor Time. Begin treatment. We don’t have much time, so work quickly.”

This threw me for a loop as I watched two unicorns appear from the group of guards in medical scrubs. They immediately set upon Pinkie, pulling back bandages and applying what I could only guess were healing spells.

Princess Luna cleared her throat and I found myself looking up at her, feeling like a child again before an angry teacher or parent.

And I swear, I could feel the Whisper whimpering like a scared puppy somewhere in the back of my mind.

“Dayglow Morning. Explain in your own words what happened to Pinkie Pie tonight,” she said firmly. “And how she ended up in this state.”

I tried to find my words, but it was so hard. I opened my mouth more than a few times, only to let out a choke of fear. I was so afraid.

I was afraid of what would happen to me, sure. But this was different.

I was afraid of Princess Luna on some sort of primal level, and I had no idea.

Her gaze narrowed, and under that scrutiny, I finally found my voice.

“...Pinkamena,” I croaked out. “It was Pinkamena.”

Luna’s gaze shifted to Pinkie once more and waited. She wanted more.

“We fought. I… I was going to kill her,” I said. I had no idea why I admitted that, but every word came out on its own accord. It was like I was a child again, admitting to breaking mother’s favorite vase. “I didn’t. But I wanted to.”

“Why.”

“She was going to hurt somepony I cared about. I ended up using a fake knife by accident. I think we both thought I killed her.”

I don’t know if she was satisfied with that answer but Princess Luna’s gaze left me and turned to Pinkie. From the looks of it, the doctors were stitching together flesh and regrowing hair along the knife wound. Every bruise, bump, and cut was getting the same treatment. I could bet within an hour that Pinkie Pie would look as pristine and pure as the day we met.

With a small chime, a small trail of dark blue, almost black colored magic coiled out of Luna’s horn and touched Pinkie Pie’s forehead doing Faust knows what to the poor mare.

A whole minute passed and nobody said a word. The doctors worked, the guards stood watch, and Luna did whatever sorcery it was to the mare I thought I killed tonight.

Finally, she let out a small breath. She was relieved. Of what, I had no idea.

“She’s clean and ready,” Luna said. “Return her to bed when you’re done with her.”

Princess Luna’s eyes were back on me, and I felt myself shrink under her gaze once more.

With a little flash, the restraints on my wrists disappeared. I honestly was expecting to get blasted with the truth spell again. Or disintegrated.

“Stand up, Dayglow.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, the threat of vaporization still there. I shakily got to my hooves and tried to face my end with a little dignity intact.

“Kneel.”

The command was simple but carried with it all the weight it needed. I was kneeling in front of her, head down, and waiting for whatever form the headspony’s ax took.

“Dayglow Mornings, do you swear fealty to the crowns and Equestria?”

The question threw me for a loop and I hesitated for a brief moment. Something was wrong.

“I...Yes?”

“You sound unsure. I’ll ask again. Do you swear fealty to the crowns and Equestria?”

“...Yes.”

“Do you swear to promise on your life that you will be faithful to your princess and her ponies? To never cause harm, to act in good faith, and without deceit?”

My heart skipped a beat. This didn’t sound like an execution. This didn’t sound like last rights.

“Yes.”

“Do you swear to be without fear in the face of Equestria’s enemies? To safeguard the helpless and do no wrong from henceforth?”

This wasn’t an execution. This sounded like an oath of fealty.

“Yes.”

“Rise.”

My heart was hammering in my chest, and I couldn’t wipe the stupid look of shock on my face. I wasn’t going to die.

“You speak true and your heart is clear,” she said flatly. “Good.”

The princess’s stony gaze softened slowly until she looked at me less like an angry mother. She looked so sad.

“I am sorry. You have all suffered because of my mistake,” Luna said softly. “You, Laughter, Magic, and many more.”

“...What? I don’t understand.”

I watched as two guards hauled off Pinkie Pie’s sleeping form while two more started giving the basement laboratory a sweep over, removing any evidence they could get their hooves on.

“The filly is upstairs and in good health,” Luna said, ignoring my confusion. “The spell will end with daybreak, and Ponyville will stir once more. Return home and sleep. We will speak, and all will be revealed.”

I wanted to protest, but Princess Luna’s commanding tone brokered no alternative.

I kept my mouth shut and made my way for the stairs. I was sore, and I knew I’d be aching in the morning, but I didn’t care.

I was alive.

And so was Scootaloo.

I scooped the little filly up and started towards the door, just in time to see Princess Luna head upstairs for Twilight next.

For better or for worse, I was part of a cover-up.

I was alive.

But for how long?

* * *

It hit me about halfway home that things were bigger than I suspected. There were a few ponies out in the streets, unconscious — as if they were out for a walk and just dropped where they stood. Several guards moved them, with one mare directing teams as they brought them back to their houses.

I thought it was weird that Mr. and Mrs. Cake hadn’t woken up during my yelling match with Pinkamena. And I hadn’t really thought why nopony went out to check what all the yelling was as Twilight chased me.

But Luna’s mention of a spell made it pretty obvious.

I was too tired to think it over and instead focused on the positives.

We were alive. I wasn’t going to jail. And maybe things could get back to some semblance of normal.

Stepping through the threshold of my home, the weight of everything that had happened finally slipped off, and I could feel myself relax.

It took a great deal of effort not just to collapse and sleep on the couch tonight, but Scootaloo needed to be put to bed.

The little filly was reluctant and first but curled up happily after being tucked into bed.

My own bed was like a siren, calling to me from down the hall. With a few shambling steps, I made it and collapsed.

Sleep came soon after.

* * *

I was at a table.

White walls, white floor, white table, white chairs.

I was holding a cup of tea.

Black and hot.

I could have sworn I just went to bed. In fact, I knew I just went to bed.

The reflection in the tea was my own, but my mane and coat were clean and combed. Something was wrong. I hadn’t showered yet. This couldn’t be real. I was…

“As I promised, my little pony.”

My head shot up, and I found myself sitting across from Princess Luna.

“Answers.”

I was dreaming. I had to be.

“You’re dreaming,” she said. It was like she was reading my mind. “I’m not just the princess of the night. I’m the guardian of dreams. This is as real a meeting as it needs to be.”

I took a breath to steady myself and set the tea down.

“I… alright. Answers. Questions.”

I had a million questions and each one seemed pertinent, but one felt the most obvious.

“Why haven’t I been executed?”

“Because I’ve killed enough ponies like you already,” she said matter-of-factly. “Make no mistake. I would have ended your life at our first meeting had you been like the rest.”

I only had more questions. “Like...me? Like the rest?”

“The worst mistake I made a thousand years ago when the Nightmare took hold,” she said, each word paining her to admit. “When I marked the souls of ten to turn on their fellows.”

My head was swimming. This was too much. Seeing my confusion, Princess Luna’s horn glowed, and that dark blue, almost black magic reached out and started to pull something out of me.

I cried out, my very being feeling like it was being stretched thin. And as soon as it started, it stopped, and I was left staring at a wisp of black smoke, hovering between us.

“Before my sister banished the Nightmare, I cursed ten ponies at the battle with a black spot on their souls. It would drive them to the evilest acts against their fellows and carry on, finding new hosts and new victims.”

The smoke started twisting and changing until a face began to emerge. A face I knew very well.

My face.

It looked at me and smiled, and in an instant, I knew who — or rather what — it was.

“To think. If you only listened, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“The Whisper.”

Chapter 15: Cleaner

“Is that what you call this parasite?”

Princess Luna’s curt tone cut through the shock of seeing — rather than hearing — my life-long companion in crime.

“Parasite?”

Luna sneered as the smoky visage looked back with a slimy smile. “Yes. Parasite. I’d have removed this past failing of mine if it wouldn’t also kill you in the process. And I wanted to gauge your character before I made that choice.”

“And… This is why I’m…”

“A murderer?” Again, the princess’s callous demeanor cut me and I flinched. “Yes. And no.”

She brought the Whisper closer to her and it slowly lost its smile, looking more and more like a child about to be scolded. “How long have you been bound to this one?”

The Whisper found some measure of defiance and gave a scoff. “Gee mom, a thousand years and not even a hello? I missed you? I-”

The Whisper let out a strangled choke as Luna’s magic constricted it. At the same time, I felt something start to strangle me. It didn’t take a graduate from Canterlot University to know what was going on. “Just shut up and answer her,” I growled.

“Almost 20 years,” the Whisper gurgled. “And he’s been a good boy up until recently.”

The princess held on for a few moments as she processed this before letting go. “20 years,” Luna mused aloud. “So you were cursed since you were eight.”

I took in a much-needed breath. “Please, warn me before you do that Princess Luna…” I choked out. “What’s this all mean? What happened?”

“As I said, it’s a curse. A sentient curse that’s plagued Equestria now for 1,000 years,” she said. “It latches onto the soul and corrupts it. But as the years have passed, the curse has grown weaker. Strong-willed ponies like you and Laughter have somehow-”

“Laughter?” I interrupted. “Who’s Laught-”

I stopped. There wasn’t a whole lot of other ponies that the Princess has seen lately. And she used that name before.

And that meant...

“You… You don’t mean…”

“She means Pinkie Pie,” the Whisper said curtly. “I told you she was no good. I told you that there was something wrong. And if you had only listened, kept your distance, or even killed her when-”

Luna’s harsh gaze fell on the Whisper and it visibly shrunk back and in size. “...I’ll shut up.”

With a long sigh, Princess Luna nodded. “The parasite is right. The one you know as Pinkie Pie was one of those unfortunate souls that fell pray to the Nightmare’s curse.”

That hit hard. “So… We were alike…” I said numbly.

“In some ways yes,” Luna said. “You were both random ponies the curse found at some point in your lives. But you were both strong-willed enough and somehow managed to isolate parts of your soul and psyche. This caused the curse to manifest in different ways.”

She pointed to the Whisper and continued. “The parasite — or Whisper as you call it — is nothing more than an extension of your own will and personality. The piece of you that was cleaved free when the curse took hold.”

“The curse affected Laughter differently,” she continued. “From what I could tell, it affected her at an early age as well. If I had to hypothesize, the curse’s existence so repulsed her, her mind cleaved itself in twain and acted like it never existed. In the process, it created two new beings. Pinkie and Pinkamena.”

Something occurred to me and I stood up from my seat as panic took me.

“Wait, you said removing the Whisper from me would kill me. And you said Pinkie Pie is clean. How-”

Luna offered a smile and silently urged me to sit down.

“It was a stroke of dumb luck,” she said with a laugh. “From what I gathered, when you used that trick knife on Laughter, it caused the curse to panic, thinking it was dying. It made an attempt to flee the host on its own accord to save its own life. And because it left of its own volition, Laughter was left no worse for wear.”

That was a relief to hear. Even though I had gone through the act, it still had hurt. The realization that I didn’t kill her, even by proxy, was a load off my shoulders.

Luna saw this.

“Tell me Dayglow, why do you target the dregs of society? What is it about the worst Equestria has to offer draw you to them like a moth to flame?” She asked with a serious edge in her tone. “You’ve seen first-hoof what monsters this affliction can make. And yet, here you are.”

I tried to find my voice, my reason but it was just so far away.

Instead, the Whisper spoke up for me.

“Beats the hell out of me,” it scoffed. “You’re such a goody-two-hooves. You go through life, pretending you’re this shining beacon of good and purity. We both know you’re not. You and I both know you’re just one good push away from strangling the mailmare if she breaks your mailbox again. I don’t-”

“Shut up,” I growled sharply. This made both the Whisper and Luna start but I didn’t care. I could actually look it in the eye for the first time in my life and I wasn’t going to let this opportunity go.

“Contrary to what you think, I’m not a monster. I don’t get my kicks hiding under little fillies beds and jumping out to scream ‘boo’ — that’s your department,” I snapped. The Whisper gave me a look of indignation and snarled, ready to retort but I kept going. “I’m not a normal pony, I know that. I delight in the suffering and death of others, I know that. But I am no animal and I will not be a slave to that darkness. And if I’m going to be a bad pony, I’m at least going to do some good and wipe away those that are.”

The Whisper was staring at me, slack-jawed. It felt good to get that out. “I’m better than it. I’m better than you.”

I turned to Luna and found she was staring at me, agape too. And for a moment, I thought I had done something wrong. But she quickly composed herself and gave me a bit of a wry smile.

“A bad pony doing good,” she said with a laugh. But that mirth quickly faded and the princess took on a more serious tone.

“But back to matters at hoof… I cannot in good conscience let you operate freely and with impunity.”

That was a kick to the gut. I thought I had been home-free. But clearly not.

“That is why I…” She trailed off and stared into the middle distance, just over my shoulder for a few seconds. “You’re waking up. We’ll continue this conversation later.”

“Waking up? I-”

* * *

Something shook me violently and I awoke with a start. Looking around, I found Scootaloo yelling and grabbing on to me for dear life.

I thought something was very wrong, right up until I started listening to her.

“I overslept! Please, Daymos, I need to go to school! I’m sorry! Ms. Cheerilee’s gonna be so mad!”

Checking the clock, the little filly was right. It was around 9 a.m. — about two hours before she’s usually out the door and about five hours since I fell asleep.

She was still talking, acting like the world was about to end. And after everything I had been through, I couldn’t help but laugh. That made Scootaloo stop babbling.

“What-”

I put a hoof on her head and tussled her mane, making her trail off. “It’s fine,” I said plainly. “Don’t worry about school today. Everyone deserves a day to themselves.”

Scootaloo still looked worried. “But what about Cheerilee? She’s going to want to know why I wasn’t in class today.”

“I’ll vouch for you and tell her you had a stomach bug,” I said with a shrug. “Besides, it’s my fault for not waking you.”

“Well, alright I guess…” Scootaloo said. “I guess I got a day off from school to-”

“To get caught up on any homework you still need to do,” I said, laughing a bit as she started to pout.

“And then you enjoy the rest of your day,” I added, getting a small smile from her.

I stood up and started to make my way towards the bathroom. “Sorry for not waking you, I had a… late night,” I said. I was expecting a flurry of questions about my state. About my cuts and bruises.

“It’s alright,” she said. “I think a day-off would be good, anyway. I’ve got a science report I need to finish.”

No questions.

That was good.

Making my way to the bathroom, I couldn’t help but notice I wasn’t aching like I did last night. I was about to chalk this up to the earth pony metabolism until I got to the bathroom and saw myself in the mirror.

I didn’t have a single cut, scrape, or bruise to speak of. I looked tired, sure, but other than that? I was pristine.

“Guess I owe the Princess thanks,” I mumbled into the mirror.

I still felt physically — and emotionally — exhausted after the whole bout with Pinkamena and Twilight but a good shower would help that.

Climbing into the tub, I let the hot water fall and wash away some of my stress.

At least for a moment.

I still needed to go out. And I couldn’t let it go. I needed to see Pinkie and Twilight. To at least confirm I’m safe.

I couldn’t relax until I knew for 100% certain.

* * *

It felt so weird to walk through the streets of Ponyville, as if nothing had ever happened.

Less than 12 hours ago, I was running through these streets ready to kill a mare I thought I loved and face the solar princess for all the sins I’ve committed.

Now?

“Morning Daymos!”

“Morning Mr. Balm, how’s business?”

“Doing well! You have a nice day!”

“Hey Daymos, just got some fresh danvers in and the chantenays will be ready next week!”

“I might pick some up tomorrow, Ms. Carrot Top. Thank you.”

It was almost sickening how normal everything seemed. I killed a respected banker and a known cop. They’d been missing long enough that they’re presumed dead. And yet, everyone was still so happy.

Making my way to Sugarcube Corner I braced myself and opened the door.

There at the counter, as usual, was Pinkie Pie.

Smiling away without a care in the world. I smiled at her as she looked my way and she smiled.

But it faltered. Just for a second, but enough to notice.

I pretended I didn’t and instead made my way to the counter.

“Morning Daymos, how’ya doing?” She asked. It was good ol’ Pinkie, that was sure. Bubbly and happy. But I couldn’t help but notice there was something off.

“I’m doing well Pinkie. Are you okay?” I asked. “You look tired.”

It was probably stupid to ask and push my luck, but I had to make sure.

With a heavy sigh, Pinkie gave me a tired sigh. “I’m… I’ve been better,” she said. “I think I slept wrong last night. I’m really sore. And I had a bad nightmare.”

At the word “nightmare”, she gave me a small look. Again, barely noticeable but there.

“Is there anything you need?” I was actually concerned and wanted to help — but she shook her head.

“No… no, it’s fine. I’ve got some coffee brewing and a couple of willow-bark pills kicking in,” she gave me another smile, more genuine this time. “I’ll be okey-dokey by the end of the day.”

Before I could react, she leaned in and gave me a quick peck on the cheek. And at that moment, I felt my heart break a bit for this mare.

I first used her as just another layer for the mask. Then I used her to be with Pinkamena.

I used to think I was dead inside, but Scootaloo proved that to be wrong. Maybe, given time, I could feel something for Pinkie.

At the very least, I could make it up to her. And make her happy.

“How would you like to go out to dinner tonight?” I asked. That got a reaction out of her. She reeled back and blushed, trying to stammer out some sort of response.

I knew why. I always kept her at a hoove’s length away, so this must have been a shock. Finally, she found her voice.

“I-I think I’m free tonight.”

I smiled. A genuine smile. It was funny to see this normally hyperactive pony reduced to a stammering mess with one little nice gesture.

I leaned in and pressed the advantage.

“Just you and me. There’s this little restaurant I like, out near the marketplace. My treat.”

“...I… I… Okay…” She stammered out, smiling and as red as a tomato. “I’ve, uh, never seen you this forward, Daymos.”

“Things change,” I smiled and leaned in, placing a quick kiss of my own on her lips.

When I pulled back, Pinkie had a smile a mile long and was practically floating off the ground. “Good golly gosh, that was worth waiting for,” she mumbled.

Somepony else walked in and she started walking towards him before giving me a smile. “See ya tonight~”

Her voice had a happy lilt as she went about her job. Again, old Daymos would have been looking to clean his face and rinse his mouth.

But things do change. Normally, I would be repulsed by the idea of kissing but then again, I was repulsed by the idea of touching another pony just a few weeks ago.

What am I now? A father figure? A coltfriend?

What more can I be?

I was shocked out of my reverie when I almost collided with the next pony I planned to visit.

Twilight.

She looked a little frazzled and was just as surprised as I was. I did my best to compose myself quickly.

“Twilight. It’s good to see you,” I said, holding the door open for her.

Instead of walking through, Twilight gave me another long look before she realized what she was doing.

“Oh! Sorry! I’m sorry Daymos, sorry,” she said with an awkward laugh. “I’m, uh, I’m a little out of it.”

I gave her a concerned look and ushered her through the doorframe. “Are you alright?”

Twilight let out a long sigh. “I got a late start to the day. Spike usually wakes me but he’s been at Canterlot all week and I slept through my alarm. And I had these weird dreams and…”

She let out another sigh and made her way to one of the booths. “I really need a coffee.”

“Alright. Hope you feel better,” I called out, giving her a wave that she lazily returned.

As soon as the door to Sugarcube Corner was closed behind me, I let myself relax.

That was it.

Both of them seemed a little drained from last night’s conflict, but they had absolutely no memory.

Otherwise, I’d expect Twilight to try and blast me for the third time.

Whatever Princess Luna did, it altered their memory. And from the way they acted, I wouldn’t be surprised if the “dreams” of Twilight and Pinkie were very specific and about me.

All I could hope was that things got to some level of normal soon.

Yeah. Normal. Good joke.

The Whisper was back and while that wasn’t ideal, it was a relief compared to everything else that had happened in the last 24 hours.

The Night Mother has your number. And she’s not done with you yet.

I did my best to ignore the Whisper’s poking and prodding and instead made my way towards DeMarenico’s for a reservation.

Even if Princess Luna had plans for me, they couldn’t be fatal. There’s no way she would let me walk free if she thought I was a threat.

Right?

* * *

DelMarenico’s is just another one of my guilty pleasures. It’s a nice little restaurant that specializes in food from the Calabrese Coast.

I honestly thought it would be a bad idea to bring such a hyperactive pony like Pinkie Pie to a fancy restaurant like DeMarenico’s, but she proved me wrong.

She even dressed up for the occasion. A nice little wine-colored dress she said she was saving for “a special occasion.” I just wished her table manners were a bit better.

“How’s your risotto?”

Pinkie brought her face out of the bowl and swallowed once before smiling. “Delicious! I can’t believe I’ve never been to this place before!”

I gave her a strained smile and motioned to her face. It took a second or two to realize what I meant, but Pinkie caught on and gave a bashful smile before cleaning her face.

“You know, you’ll have to clean less if you use utensils,” I said before digging into my own dish. It had a complicated name, but it was essentially spaghetti in a creamy ricotta sauce.

Pinkie gave a nod and started eating again with a spoon this time. “You gotta tell me Daymos… What happened?”

That gave me a bit of a start.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what happened. Like, seriously. You’re like a whole different pony now,” Pinkie explained. As if worried I’d react negatively, she put up her hooves in defense. “Not that I’m complaining. I like it. It’s nice. I’m just… really surprised.”

For a moment, I thought she meant something else entirely. Now that I knew what she meant, I smiled and shrugged.

“Some things got put into perspective lately,” I said. “And I realized I’m not as made as stone as I thought.”

I think I resented Pinkie for so long because on some level, I was jealous. She was always just so happy and without a care in the world. I honestly thought that her happy demeanor was an act at first. But no, it’s actually her.

Well, after Pinkamena, it’s all her.

Pinkie gave me a long look before nodding slowly. “As long as you’re happy, then I’m happy.”

I gave her a smile. “Same.”

From there, we started swapping stories. I’d talk about how I handled life after my parents, she’d tell some anecdote that got her into trouble as a filly.

Those would get me laughing.

I tried my best to hold in a laugh as I paid the waiter. “You’re lying.”

“I’m serious!” Pinkie cried. “I tried making my own bubblegum to sell on the side a week after moving in with the Cakes and it blew up!”

“How does bubblegum ‘blow up’?”

The waiter paid us no mind as she rang us up and we continued our conversation into the streets of Ponyville.

“I still don’t know but I must have messed up the recipe,” she said. “All I remember was turning back to the oven and seeing a big pink bubble ready to burst.”

“And did it?”

Pinkie looked away bashfully. “I was stuck to the ceiling for an hour.”

That got an honest laugh out of me. It was just so silly and absurd and…

Well, Pinkie.

For all her foils, Pinkie Pie knew how to make me laugh.

We kept talking all the way to Sugarcube Corner and stood outside the door.

“Thank you Daymos.”

“It’s just dinner, you don’t-”

“No,” she said firmly. “Thank you for letting me in.”

That caught me off guard.

“You’re a handsome stallion, you’re smart, you’re kind, but you keep everypony at hoof’s length. You smiled to convince everypony that things were okay and for the longest time, I didn’t think you actually knew how to smile,” she said. “Like really, really smile.”

I had no clue what she meant and went to ask, but she just kept going.

“When you walk in a room, it’s like you’re smiling for everyone else, not for yourself,” she explained. “But I saw you really smile when I made breakfast. And tonight when we were talking. And I don’t think I ever would have seen that if you didn’t let me into your life. So thank you. You have a nice smile.”

Pinkie held up a hoof and stopped me short before I could find my voice. “I don’t know why you smile like that for everypony else but you don’t have to tell me. Just know that I’ll be here if you ever need me. ‘Kay?”

This side of Pinkie really took me by surprise so after a few seconds of fumbling to find my voice, I spoke.

“Thank you, Pinkie.”

It was all I could muster. She saw through me. She always saw through me and knew I was hiding something but it didn’t matter. She still liked me.

She smiled from ear to ear and leaned in, placing a quick kiss on my lips. “Just remember, I’m here for you.”

“Thank you.”

Again, it’s all I could say. This mare knew how to hurt me.

I watched her walk into Sugarcube Corner and disappear, leaving me on the front step for a few minutes before I finally started to walk home.

She was right. I kept ponies at a hoof’s length. My smile was for them, not me. And she knew something was wrong about me.

For a brief, sputtering moment I thought about telling her everything. About who I really was, what I really did.

But when I learn a lesson, I learn it down to the bone.

Pinkamena ended with heartbreak.

I’d never share that side of me with another soul, never again.

But I could stop calling it a mask.

Daymos was two ponies now, not just a pony wearing a mask.

There was the Daymos who actually cared for a little filly living in his home and the mare who wanted him to smile more.

And then there was the Daymos that would send them both screaming if they knew what he liked to do in his off-hours. But that Daymos served an important job and he couldn’t just retire, could he?

Things were more complicated than ever. I now had to juggle being a father-figure and a coltfriend.

And to top it all off, I still had an audience with the Princess.

Scootaloo was up in her room and from the sound of things, studying for an upcoming test if all the grumbling and cursing had anything to say.

“I’m back and going to turn in early,” I called out from down the hall. “Have a nice night.”

“Night Daymos!” Scootaloo called back.

Throwing off my tie, I made my way into bed and settled down. I hoped sleep came quickly.

I didn’t like where my mind was wandering.

* * *

It was like I never left.

There I was, back again at the table with Princess Luna. A cup of tea sat in front of me, smelling the same as it did when I first found myself before the princess of the night.

Looking up, I found the princess staring at me.

Well, more glaring than anything.

I opened my mouth to ask what was wrong, but she wouldn’t let me.

“What’s your intention with Laughter? With Pinkie Pie?”

I floundered for a moment, trying to figure out the right thing to say. But I reminded myself that truth was the best option here with a pony that held my life in her hooves.

“I originally started dating her as cover,” I said. “Being a bachelor in Ponyville is rare. Then things changed when Pinkamena came into the picture. And I was in a relationship with her.”

“And now that she’s dead?”

I tried not to let it show that it still hurt.

“I realized I wasn’t being fair to Pinkie Pie and I’m giving an honest relationship a chance,” I said firmly. “She deserves to be happy.”

“Are you sure you’re not doing it out of guilt?”

I paused. “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. Why do you care?”

Princess Luna gave me a long look before sighing. “She is the Element of Laughter. The physical embodiment of true, unbridled joy and merriment. An Element of Harmony. And she fell in love with you, didn’t she?”

It took a second for everything to click into place. I had heard stories about the Elements. But I didn’t know.

I had no idea.

“I… Yeah, she did,” I said numbly, trying to process everything.

“Than this makes things more complicated,” Luna said. “You may very well have to break her heart if you misstep.”

The dream realm is an odd place. In the blink of an eye, I went from a plain room to an office building, with Luna sitting at a desk with all manner of papers.

I gave her a confused look as I looked around the office. “What…”

“I’ve had to adjust to the bureaucracy of this new age. If you’re going to be working for me, we need to make it official,” she paused. “Official and off the books. Hence the fact we’re doing this here and not in the flesh.”

I felt my eyes nearly pop out of my sockets. “...Work?”

Luna nodded as she started pulling out reams of paper a hoof thick, making notations on some pages and stamping others.

“Yes,” she said curtly. “You will work under the crown. You’ve been murdering creatures for years and you have yet to be caught. That kind of skill set is useful.”

Everything felt like it was spinning. There was no way she was offering what I thought she was offering.

“You… want me to be an assassin.”

The writing stopped and she looked up. “In so many words? Yes.”

She went back to writing and I expected her to explain, but Luna just kept me at the edge of my seat.

I had to ask.

“Why?”

I wished in an instance to cut out my traitorous tongue for asking that question. I had always dreamed of being given carte blanche to do what I did. I tried to stumble out a reason for my question, but Luna held up a hoof and after a minute more of furious penwork, presented me with a packet of documents.

“My sister likes to pretend that Equestria is a land of peace and wonder — nothing like it was 1,000 years ago.” Luna scoffed. “You and I both know not all monsters live in the Everfree. You’ve slain quite a few of them, after all.”

I started to flip through it, catching words here and there. Clandestine. Operation. Removal.

“The contract you hold stipulates that you are employed by the crown. It works around under what purpose you’re employed, but the job title you’ll be listed under officially is ‘cleaner’.” That got a laugh out of me and Luna smiled. “I thought you’d like that.”

Her face hardened.

“In no small terms, I will be your master,” she said. “You killed an innocent pony and your life belongs me to now. You will work for me for the betterment of Equestria or die for her safety.”

The finality of that statement made my face go pale. I knew I wasn’t out of the woods but to here my death talked about so plainly made me shiver.

“You will need to confirm any extracurricular kills with me at least one week prior to the act,” Luna continued. “You’ll need to submit reports after the fact detailing everything that you did and felt. You and I will then conduct an after-action report.”

My mouth felt so dry and I kicked myself for not taking a swig of tea when I had the chance.

“And what about my actual… work?”

Luna’s smile grew slowly and she leaned in ever so slightly, waiting for the question.

“Will I get paid?”

That wasn’t the question she was expecting and it got a start out of Luna. “Really? Did the prospect of being an assassin for the crown really bring about a hidden greed?”

“No, but I do have a day job, a growing filly to look after, and a marefriend. I’m going to need a stable income.”

“If you look at page seven, it outlines your commission per mission carried out in the name of the crown,” she said.

I found the number listed and felt my eyes boggled.

“That’s… a lot,” I said dumbly.

“And there is much work to do,” Luna said, offering a pen.

I took it and started signing where the princess had marked. I didn’t have much say in the matter but at the very least, I was alive and being paid well for a very dangerous job that I once only considered a hobby.

“Now, about your first job…”

Epilogue

There are a few things I genuinely enjoy in this world.

Quiet Sunday afternoons in my study…

The taste of a freshly baked chocolate donut…

And just recently, the way moonlight dances through the clouds.

It had been a few weeks since I signed away my life with Princess Luna and I was already out on a hunt. I sat in a little place called Donut Joe’s, watching an apartment building across the ways.

The building was home to one Cash Break. He lived on the fourth floor and was a rather wealthy individual with a few eccentricities.

Mostly, he enjoyed staging accidental deaths for his amusement.

Princess Luna gazed in on a particular dream Cash Break had of pushing a stallion off of the train platform. Apparently, it wasn’t just a dream but a memory.

She could tell the difference, she said. Comes with being the guardian of dreams, apparently.

Problem is, dreams aren’t admissible in court.

And so here I sat, waiting.

As far as everyone back in Ponyville was concerned, I was taking a little vacation in Canterlot for a week. And since then, I got to learn all I could about Cash Break.

As the clocktower stopped its tolling of the ninth hour, Cash Break exited his home.

I think he goes to a poker game, but he’s gone for at least an hour. Two at the most.

Which gave me all the time in the world.

His apartment building had minimal security and I had already swiped a keycard from an unsuspecting mare after ‘accidentally’ bumping into her on the street.

Letting myself up to the fourth floor, I jimmied open the lock to Cash’s door and walked in like I owned the place.

I made sure to lock the door behind me and settled in, snooping around the place a bit before getting to work.

The bedroom was the obvious place to set up.

Setting my bag down, I fished out a roll of plastic and started coating the bedroom. I had an hour to prepare a kill room and get ready for when he walked through that door.

As I worked, I let my mind wander.

The night means a lot to ponies.

It's a time to sleep.

It's a time to play.

But for me, it means something different.

A time to work.

My job isn’t as fancy as the rest of the ponies out there. I don’t bake, or run a library, or even own a store.

That’s far too boring and not worthy of my particular skill set.

I’m a cleaner.

And that’s just what I planned to do that night.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.