Breadcrumbsby TantiMountChaptersColorsCoutreCautionCauseColors“This is your best batch yet, Pinkie!” a stallion complimented while chewing happily on a multicolored-iced cupcake. His tan tail hung over the stool he sat at, covered partially by a similarly-colored trenchcoat he was wearing. Most thought him a bit odd that he’d wear a trenchcoat during a perfectly sunny day. He did so because it made the most sense. How could he investigate without it? Keen Flatfloot was his name. He preferred to go by Keen or Detective Keen, mainly. He wasn’t fond of Flatfoot. He’s had too many bungled investigations because somepony would make the mistake of thinking Fleetfoot was said, and peace is something that needs to be kept during an investigations. Celebrities are simply not the best method for retaining peace. “I’m glad you like it, Keeny! I used a new secret ingredient for these! Get as much as you want, ‘cause once they’re gone, they’re gone!” Pinkie exclaimed shortly before popping two of the same cupcakes into her mouth. Keen always made it a point to drop by Sugarcube Corner every so often during his shift, just to chat with the locals. Keeps the locals up to date and friendly with the local law enforcement. Not that Ponyville needed it, really. Nothing ever happens except for maybe the occasional lost cat or possession. It’s always been so boring, so he just trots around town, greeting everypony, and helping out with any light chores that wouldn’t force him to overcommit. It’s important to keep the department in a good light, or at least, that’s what the chief keeps telling him. He scarfed down the other half of the cupcake in a single bite, levitated a napkin, and wiped his mouth of any excess frosting. Pinkie always made the best secret-ingredient cupcakes, and she always uses a different ingredient every few months. Nopony has any idea whatever it is she uses, but everypony agrees, whatever it is, it’s absolutely delicious. “Thanks again, Pinkie! I’ll be back in later on this week, so I’ll see ya around!” He hopped off of the stool and left the bakery with an enthusiastic Pinkie smiling and waving behind him. As he passed by the entrance, he levitated his hat back onto his head and walked out. Keen felt relieved that he had his hat on, seeing as it kept his eyes from the strong sunlight outside. The pegasi must be busy today. There’s not a cloud in the sky, he thought. A nice breeze drifted through the town, doing no more than rustling his coat and mahogany mane. He lazily strolled through the roads, briefly glancing at the fruit stands and salesponies positioned on either side. Peace and tranquility was what he came to expect from Ponyville, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. His horn glowed briefly and caused his body to convulse a bit. The magic was a combination of red and blue, and made a sound only he could hear. It wasn’t much, but it did alert him. A call? Now? he thought. He’d just gotten to the best part of town: the farmer’s market. One of his favorite ponies sold fruit there, and there wasn’t a whole lot in town he looked forward to more than chatting with her. “Detective Flatfoot? We need you here now. This is… oh god, just get over here.” His horn stopped glowing. The voice on the other end sounded a bit nauseous, which is unusual, given nopony in the department had a history of sickness, and the only sick officers were out today. Probably somepony’s prank gone a little awry… A dizzy spell, most likely. They weren’t common, no, but it happened sometimes. A small colt or filly trying out a new spell on a friend just to see what happens isn’t much of a crime, but it gives him something to do. He trotted over to where the call came from. The spell that alerted him had three effects. The first was the light and sounds that alerted him of the second, a voice transmission from the unicorn who called him. The last was an imprint in his mind of where the call came from. The spell’s functions were a bit complex to understand, but the spell itself was simple enough to learn. Keen wasn’t the most able unicorn when it came to magic. From what he could understand, the place he was called to was under a pretty large cloud on the outskirts of Ponyville. It wasn’t far from where he already was, so once he left the town, he knew exactly where he was going. Oh, the Dash place. Wonder what happened with her this time? Rainbow Dash was well known not only for her speed and athleticism, but also her ability to create property damage with those talents. This call was probably no more than another blunder that he had to report on. After a short walk down the only path to her house, he noticed other patrolponies and some caution tape strewn about the base of her cloud, barring entry to all except those authorized. He figured almost the entire force must have been there, as the largest number of ponies he’d ever seen were wandering about the crime scene. He pulled the tape up and walked under, spotting the mischievous blue pegasus among the crowd. “Rainbow, how many times this month are you going to make me come out here and clean up your mess?” he joked during his approach. She neither turned nor responded at all. Usually by now, she’d quip one back at him. “Rainbow?” he asked again. “Detective Flatfoot, uh, she can’t talk to you…” an officer tentatively mentioned to him as he inched closer. The smell around her was getting a bit strong and unusual, causing him to gag slightly when the breeze picked up and launched an odorous attack on him. He moved his collar closer to his snout to cover the smell, and moved even closer. “Oh… oh my… I think…” he started before he felt a small puddle of vomit forming in the back of his throat. He understood now why Rainbow Dash never responded. She was no longer of this world, but in the worst possible way he’d never been able to imagine. Her wings had been sewn back on at the base, and her cutie marks had been stitched back on to her rump. A large strip of skin on her back and leg was still missing, revealing the mannequin underneath. Keen stepped back and vomited on the ground behind him. His lunch and snacks, like this unfortunate mare, were no longer where they belonged, and the same perpetrator was behind the loss of both. “What sick pony would even do this?” he choked out. Another officer stepped forward. “Sir, that’s why we called you. We have no idea.” Nopony in the area seemed to have taken it well. Her eyeless gaze and restitched face didn’t sit well with anypony, and it seemed Keen wasn’t the only one who vomited on first glance. Several other officers still sat on the ground near what he could only assume were their own responses, and others still were continuing their first impression. Keen gathered what energy he had left, swallowed what lunch he had left, and started working. This is what he trained for, but not what he ever expected to actually happen. He staggered over to the scene and began examining what he had: a body and the area around it. He wiped his muzzle and pulled out his notepad and quill, ready to take notes. “Has a pegasus already checked the interior of her home?” he started. A few feet in front of him, an officer raised her wing. Before he could even ask, she slowly shook her head and lowered her wing. Great. No leads there. “How about witnesses? Anypony seen her being dragged here?” “Sir, she wasn’t dragged here, or levitated. We’ve already run our magic scans and no unicorn magic had been used anywhere in the vicinity for several days. In addition, we’ve been unable to discern any drag marks anywhere near the body.” The bespectacled earth pony turned back toward the body and continued examining what he could. Keen wrote down a few points indicating this, and turned toward the next officer. “Autopsy report?” “No, sir. Estimated time of death was 4 PM yesterday. Our coroner said he’d be able to get a more exact time once he gets the bod-” he paused. “-what’s left of the body.” Keen nodded and jotted down the details. “Something isn’t making sense…” he mumbled. “Anything found around the body that could have been from our killer?” he continued. “No, sir. Nothing besides the dirt at our hooves.” “Hoofprints?” “No, sir.” “Seems like our killer is probably a pegasus, then.” “No, sir,” the officer shook his head. “We’ve already scoured the ground for wingbeat marks, but there are none around the body.” Keen paused. Something wasn’t making sense. How did the body get here? Where was she murdered? And who in Equestria could even manage to move her without a trace? “Hrm…. How can I help you?” a maroon mare inquired. Keen had finished his investigation (or what little of it there was) at the crime scene and had gone home to contemplate his notes. There wasn’t a whole lot to go on until he had the autopsy report from the coroner. After resting on his thoughts, he made the trek to the coroner’s office to figure out what could have happened to Dash. The unicorn in question seemed a bit aloof. Not quite all there. Her lab coat was patterned with blood in odd places, as if something had squirted out at her unexpectedly. She always has to ensure everyone that it isn’t, in fact, fresh, and that blood stains worse than wine most days. She tapped her hoof absentmindedly at the desk, awaiting the answer from Keen. “Yes, Ms…” he started, glancing at her chest for a name plate, as he had forgotten her name. It was there, but a bit hard to read, as it was positioned upside-down. “...Ms...Clean… Cut. I’m here to ask for the autopsy report for Ms. Rainbow Dash.” She glanced at him briefly before looking down at her tag. She stared at it for a few more seconds than Keen thought necessary before shrugging and jumping off of her stool. She gestured towards a box on the desk before trotting through the doors behind her. Keen grabbed one of the sterile horn wraps, positioned it properly on his horn, and followed. She may seem like an airhead, but she was the best in the business. At least, the best in Ponyville. He hadn’t really met many coroners. “Hrm… I… uh… Dash…” she stammered to herself. She was not much of a pony-pony, so wasn’t quite as skilled as others at speaking. She browsed through the lockers on the wall, checking each label for the correct name. She squeaked out an “ah!” upon finding it and pulled out a table, on which lied the dead pegasus. Or, at least, the skin of the dead pegasus. “Dash… She, uh… There wasn’t.. er… a body, really. Mannequin.” She gestured toward the corner where a red-stained mannequin sat. It was cut in a few places where Clean had to carefully extract the parts from the hide. “Just skin.” She poked the skin with a sterilized magic prod to emphasize her point. Keen felt nauseous again seeing the mutilated mare, but kept his composure this time. “How was she killed?” he asked. “Tortured…. Ripped… Slashed… Organs… Skinned… Drugged… Don’t know which.” She pointed with her hoof to several areas while she listed out the causes: the strip of skin on Rainbow’s back, her wings and throat, an I-shaped cut on her torso, her cutie marks, followed by Clean gesturing towards her own mouth. “Drugged? How were you able to figure that out?” Keen was interested in how this pony was drugged. Rainbow was a ball of energy, and if she suspected somepony of harming her, she’d be gone faster than they could blink. “Follicles…. Not much… Trace…” She gestured again toward the skin, but this time, to a part that was freshly sliced as a sample. Clean Cut levitated a clipboard to Keen to show him what she meant. He got it under control himself to see what she meant. A single phrase was underlined thrice under the section Chemicals: ground snorchid. “Non-lethal… Short nap…” Keen thought for a moment. “Short nap? So you think Rainbow woke up shortly after being drugged? And that the killer did that on purpose?” Clean nodded. He jotted down this information into his notebook. Now he knew several things he didn’t before. The killer had access to rare flowers and herbs and knew how to convert it into potent drugs. The killer wanted Rainbow to be awake for the torture he or she had in store, and knew how to taxidermy her after the deed was done. Whoever this pony is, they probably have a cutie mark for murder, for Celestia’s sake. He knew more, but it only brought more questions to the table. “Do you have a time of death?” “Before discovered…. three to five hours… maybe…” She laid another hoof on the pegasus’ skin. “Still warm.” Keen began to question that last statement before she interrupted with, “Then… Not now….” She yawned, yanked the clipboard from his grasp, and pushed Rainbow back into the locker. He followed her out of the morgue and into the sitting area once again, where she gave him a manila envelope. She got back up on her stool, laid her head down on her hooves, and fell asleep. Keen pocketed the autopsy report, whispered a “thank you,” to her, and traipsed out. This is going to be a long week, he thought as he sighed and headed to the station. Coutre“Welcome back, Keen! I see you didn’t tear your mane out over Clean Cut like you did last time,” the secretary chided. Keen was able to deal with her much better this time than the last time they had to deal with a suspected murder. She’s not the most tolerable pony in town. “Yeah, she cut to the chase this time. Not a whole lot of waiting for the next word.” He did find that a bit unusual. Clean was a wordy pony despite her slow speech, but she didn’t mince words at all. Must have gotten to her, too, even if she didn’t look it. Keen magicked a mug of coffee over to him from the lounge area before sitting down at his desk to look over the two days worth of notes. He was getting closer, he knew it, but something still wasn’t adding up. What sort of killer drops off a pony without leaving a trace of magic, wingbeats, or hoofprints? How did Rainbow Dash die, and why was she butchered the way she was? Could there really exist such a sick and depraved mind in Ponyville? He glanced at his suspect list: empty. He couldn’t think of any pony or creature in Ponyville that could even think about doing this, let alone one that did. He sipped his mug and nearly spat it back out when he realized he forgot to sweeten it. He forced a swallow, added a bit of milk and sugar, and tried again. Better. Motives… Why would anyone want to kill Rainbow Dash? he pondered. That one wasn’t too difficult. With such a prideful attitude and competitive spirit, it wasn’t farfetched to think that somepony would want to kill her as retribution. He continued thinking and decided that he couldn’t write down anypony’s name for that, either. Too many suspects based on motive. Keen took off his hat, placed it on the desk, and ruffled his mane. This wasn’t supposed to happen here. He sat there, hooves in his mane, for a few minutes. I transferred from Manehattan to avoid this stuff. He sighed once again, moved his hat to the floor beside his desk, and continued to think. Something wasn’t adding up, and he had to figure it out. He sat in silence for hours. He’d tap a quill for a few minutes at a time, jot something down, then scratch it out just as soon. The clock above the office ticked away. He took out the autopsy report and reread it for the thirteenth time. Suddenly, he paused, then slammed his hooves on the desk. Everypony in the room turned towards him to see what had happened. Keen swept up his hat, notebook, and autopsy report in a flourish and galloped to the conference room where the rest of the officers threw ideas back and forth. As he burst in, he exclaimed, “Did we ever find the body?” The patrolponies looked at him, then snickered. “Of course we did. You were there.” “No, that was the skin. I’m talking about what goes inside.” The ponies stopped snickering and just stared at him. “No. We weren’t able to find a trace of it anywhere.” “So? If we find it, we find the killer!” “What do you suggest we do to find it, then?” a pony interjected. Keen stared back at the pony, then slumped his shoulders, and began to walk out. “I can’t even stomach the prospect that it just vanished…” He slowly closed the door to the conference room behind him, and began walking to his desk. He glanced at the clock. Four-thirty. Only half an hour more before he could go home and get some rest. Keen was always very attentive, and was usually the first to figure a case out. It was his special talent, after all. “Detective! Detective Keen!” the secretary yelled from the other side of the room. “We got another one!” He lifted his face, stared in her direction, before simply shouting, “What?” This was a crafty killer, this one. On his way to the crime scene, he dropped by Sugarcube Corner for a confectionary pick-me-up. Pinkie assured him that these spiral-iced cupcakes were brand new, using another new ingredient, and were guaranteed to satisfy his hunger. “I fashioned them out of a few spare ingredients I had,” she informed him before chortling. They were certainly different than the ones he had a few days prior, but just as delicious. He was headed to the other side of town to Carousel Boutique. Apparently, Rarity, the owner, was the victim. He thought it odd that two of the Elements were now dead, and immediately requested the department move the other four into their custody to protect them. He told Pinkie while he was there that she needed to go to the department immediately, and had his closest friend, Powdered Prints, collect Applejack. He arrived at the Boutique to the same smell he experienced last time, at Rainbow’s house. This is going to be another nasty one… he thought before passing the perimeter and parting the curtains into the shop. Sitting in the middle of the shop, wearing a garment, was the one and only Rarity, attached to a mannequin the same way Rainbow was when she was found. Strangely, though, there were less visible cuts on the body, her cutie marks were left alone, and her face had been made-up like she was heading to an important appointment. “Same MO, but where did she get this…” he started, gesturing toward the “dress” she was wearing. It was sewn in a way similar to the way Rarity sews her own dresses, fitted especially for her, but the fabric was made of pony hide. Not her own, as the colors didn’t match her own coat, and quilted together using bits and pieces from looked like six different ponies. None of the coats matched the color of Rainbow’s coat, either. “We’ve confirmed those as the coats of six missing Ponyville residents: Quenched Thirst, Frothy Foam, Woodwind, Starch Naked, Hour House, and Year Long. None of their bodies have been found, and given the business this place gets, our hoofprint and wingbeat evidence is a no-go.” Keen stared at the hodgepodge on the deceased Rarity’s flank. Rarity, dead and wearing a dress made up of other ponies… He took out his notebook and started writing down more notes. “Whoever this killer is, they’re targeting the Elements of Harmony. Rainbow and Rarity both died to the same pony, that’s for sure. The killer practiced on other ponies before enacting this sick plan and I’m sure one of the other four are next.” He continued to examine Rarity’s body, trying to figure out if they left a clue. Serial killers tend to do so, just as a way to taunt the investigators, to taunt him. Just a game to them. He wrote a few questions down in his notebook. Why did they cut up Rainbow so much, but left Rarity’s skin essentially untouched? How were they able to mimic Rarity’s style with this dress so well? What did they do to those other six ponies? Are there others? He put away his notebook and started to investigate the rest of the boutique on a hunch. It looks like a dress Rarity would make, so what if it is? Most of the officers were still investigating the bottom floor, and only a few had made it to the top floor. They were mostly searching her designing room and hadn’t wandered too much farther. He kept going until he found a door labeled with “Sweetie Belle’s Room! Keep Out!” Her sister, he thought. Where is she, anyhow? He nudged the door open to peek inside, sure there wouldn’t be anything in the room. As it opened he saw a fully furnished room fit for a filly. Nothing out of the ordinary from an initial glance: her made was unmade, toys were strewn about the room, and most importantly, it was empty. No Sweetie Belle anywhere to be seen. He sighed, relieved. Whoever the killer was, they didn’t kill foals. As he was about to leave, he noticed a trail leading to her miniature sewing machine, with toys and crafts pushed to either side. Curious, he followed the trail and inspected the sewing machine. It was a normal kid-version of the professional machines Rarity used herself for the industry, and of an exceptionally high quality. However, it had been used recently, with bits of hair littering the machine. Colorful hair. “GET UP HERE!” he howled downstairs. Four officers entered the room shortly after the outburst, with weapons at the ready. When they saw Keen standing near the sewing machine, they reholstered their weapons and carefully tiphoofed over. “The sick fuck made her do it! The killer forced Rarity to make her own death cloak!” Keen frothed. He pushed past the ponies to the hallway, taking his notebook out briefly to record the new information before putting it away and hurrying out of the shop. Too many thoughts clouded his head. The killer, the victims, the way they’re found. He vomited outside of the boutique, in front of several officers. He thought he had a strong stomach for these things, but he’d never seen anything as depraved as this. Whoever did this was sick beyond measure for even thinking about it, and sicker still for actually going through with it. He threw up again. He never signed up for this. He wanted a peaceful retirement. He wanted to live the rest of his life in a peaceful podunk town, saving the occasional cat or dealing with a petty theft here and there. Not this. Not even Manehattan- Again. This got to him more than he cared to admit. He wiped his muzzle with a hoofkerchief an officer handed him, pocketed it and assured that he’d get it back to him after Keen washed it, and walked back inside. Everypony turned toward him, but didn’t look up at his face. They knew what he was feeling, as they all felt it too. He walked back over to Rarity, put a hoof around her lifeless, stuffed shoulder, and sighed. “I’m… so sorry. For your sister… I’ll catch this fuck.” He walked back toward the door, nodded at the officer standing watch, and went home. Everypony understood completely. No detective can work when he’s emotionally compromised. Nopony can. He groggily stumbled back into the department, immediately grabbed a coffee, and gulped it down. Before leaving the lobby, he filled a second cup, didn’t bother with the milk and sugar, and flopped down into his chair at his desk. The papers he needed were already there. He could always trust his fellow officers to come through. He opened up the investigation notes the other officers gifted him, to read over what other discoveries they made. At the top of the first paper, he read a note: “You’re in charge now. Sorry.” Thanks, guys, he thought. And truly, he was grateful. He wanted to take this perp down and give ‘em the chair. Nopony deserved the deaths these ponies were forced on them. Nopony. He continued reading. They noticed that the skin-cloak she was wearing had been washed, and found traces of Rarity’s blood on the chestpiece. They concluded that the killer tortured her while she was wearing it, killed her, removed and washed the garment, and then refitted it on her. They still couldn’t discover any traces of her innards anywhere on the property, but were confident that the murder happened in the boutique. He flipped through the pages. One page was labeled “Sweetie Belle.” There were a few lines mentioning her sewing machine, but one was circled: “staying at friend’s clubhouse since day before, doesn’t know.” He sighed. It was hard to lose a friend, but harder to lose a sister. He didn’t want to be the one to break the news. Anything he thought important, he jotted down into his own notebook. He perused every page, making sure not to miss a single detail, reread it, then put down the packet. He glanced around the desk to see if they dropped off anything else for him. The autopsy report was a ways off. Clean Cut had only just got Rarity that morning, so he had to let her do her job. He picked up his coffee and noticed a note with a dark coffee ring marring its surface. It mentioned something about “E---men--” “Oh! The other Elements!” he realized. He grabbed whatever notes he could and trotted over to the interrogation rooms on the east wall. They weren’t prisoners, but nopony was safer than when they were in the department. It was one thing they were proud of. He walked into the holding room they were kept in and saw Twilight Sparkle, Pinkie, and Applejack huddled together. Keen noticed they were all recovering from the news of their other friends, wiping tears from their eyes. “Ah can’t believe Rainbow’d go this way… She always seemed like the racin’ accident type…” “Who would do this? I mean, nopony in history was ever this… this…” Twilight sobbed. “They’re gone. Jus’ gone.” None of the ponies glanced up at him when he walked in. Twilight used her wings and pulled her friends closer to her when he got closer to them. Keen knelt down beside them, and stated, “I’m so sorry.” He placed a single hoof on Applejack’s shoulder, lifted it, and walked back out. He had planned to talk with them about who may have done this, when they last saw their other friends, but didn’t realize they weren’t ready to talk about it. He wandered to the next room over, the observation room, and entered. Several other ponies were watching the three in the room, discussing the case. “Where’s the...um… Fluttershy?” Keen interrupted. One of the officers stopped talking and turned toward him. “We’re still looking for her. She wasn’t in her cottage, and we still haven’t been able to find her in her usual hideouts.” “Asked anypony?” “Yessir. Nopony has seen her since Rarity was discovered.” “Shit.” Caution“Find anything! Any clues, any trace! Find that pony now!” Keen demanded. Fluttershy’s cottage had been turned upside down in search of her. Angel, her pet rabbit, was also nowhere to be seen. Her room, kitchen, living quarters, and even her basement (hidden behind a bookcase, so presumed to be a panic room) were all populated with creatures, but not the sought-after pony. Keen was getting frustrated and worried. She was the third of the sextet to fall victim, and he couldn’t let the other three be touched. Harmony was being destroyed one at a time. “Search the grounds! The Everfree Forest!” Some ponies had stayed behind in the house, investigating over what had already been searched. Keen turned toward them. “Did you hear me? Go!” he ordered. The ponies, shocked, stumbled up and ran out the door. He sighed. I’m sorry you had to lose so many of your friends… I hope you can forgive me for my failures… Keen took one last look around the cottage before trotting out himself. He had to figure out where this pony went, and fast. A familiar buzzing and flashing light snapped him out of his one-track mind and increased his heart rate at the same time. Please don’t be… “We need you at the town square, Flatfoot. It’s… It’s Fluttershy.” He arrived, emotionally drained and exhausted. He knew what he was getting into long before he saw the scene. Of course, he already had to deal with it twice before. He crossed the police tape and approached the stage that was set up for a festival the day after. At center stage, with spotlights focused on the otherwise moonlit display, stood Fluttershy in morbid irony. “Another one…” Keen sighed. He felt powerless against whatever force was at work. Discord was awful, yes, but he never killed anypony. Nightmare Moon just wanted to be revered and plunge the world into eternal night. The changelings just wanted to feed on love, though nopony knew what that entailed. Whoever this killer was… They were the true monster. Fluttershy, like the two before her, had been skinned and restitched, eyes missing, and placed on a mannequin. Unlike the others, the mannequin had been altered for a special pose. Her left foreleg had been raised, and fastened to her lifeless hoof was a microphone, lifted to her muzzle. She was positioned to seem like she was singing her heart out. On her back was another abnormality: Angel, her pet rabbit, had also been taxidermied, holding a miniature microphone and posed to be singing just like his owner. His left paw was extended upwards with his right paw gripping the mic. “What a sick sense of humor…” Keen mumbled. It didn’t seem to stop there. The backdrop of the stage had been repainted, replacing the otherwise peaceful painted mountain with a flow of red lava in an erupting volcano. Forensic ponies were already taking samples of the paint, but Keen knew already what they’d find. Drained completely, Fluttershy was displayed for all to see, contrary to everything she stood for. The same officers as before circled the scene, collecting evidence, inspecting every detail they could discover. Keen, as before, interrogated everypony, hoping for the littlest bit of information about who could have done this. But just as before, nopony had a clue. “Sir, you should probably take a look at this,” a pegasus motioned to Keen. The pony was gripping a paper in his mouth, offering it to the detective. Keen magically grasped it and began reading. “Pinkie is planning this festival tomorrow, Twilight is the speaker, and Applejack is acting as a bouncer. I feel like if anypony would do anything, it’d be tomorrow. It’s a great opportunity for the killer to knock out three birds with one stone.” Keen looked at the pegasus with leering eyes, but nodded. “We’re cancelling this thing. Nopony is to leave their houses until we figure out what’s going on.” “Martial law?” the pegasus was taken aback. Martial law hadn’t been enacted since Nightmare Moon! “But sir, isn’t that a little ex-” “Get the chief, but I promise she’ll agree. Station ponies at each of the Element’s houses, and don’t let anypony in or out unless it’s me or the chief. Got it?” The pony saluted and ran off. Keen walked to the perimeter, motioned for an officer to come closer, and stated, “Get these ponies out of here. Give Clean Cut Fluttershy and her rabbit for an autopsy, and contact me if anything out of the ordinary is found.” The pony ran off, and Keen continued out of the scene. He had never felt so tired as he did then. Ponies were dying, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it. If this continued, not only would there be more victims, but the world would lose another important element to combating threats to harmony. And if they killed Twilight, even without Discord, Equestria would fall into chaos at the loss of a princess. He trotted wearily to the station, unsure of what to do next. Rainbow Dash had her cutie mark sliced off, her wings chopped, and was reduced to standing on the ground. She lost all that made her who she desired to be. Her pride removed from her body, her aerodynamics ruined. The most lively pony in town, dead. Rarity was forced to sew a dress made from other ponies, against her will, and made to wear it before being killed herself. Forced to corrupt the one thing that made her what she loved, and killed bearing the fruits of her labor, no more than the mannequins she used herself. Fluttershy made to watch her pet die in front of her, stuffed, and posed before becoming the same herself. She loved to sing, but hated performing, hated crowds, hated being displayed. This killer knew these ponies. Knew them well. Tortured each one of them with what they loved the most. Tortured. What sort of pony would torture such loving souls as these? What sort of pony finds this cruel irony humorous that they would do it again and again? Keen stopped thinking the moment he sat at his desk. It was too much for him, this case. Too emotional, too stressful. He hadn’t had a moment to rest since it began, and it had started to get to him. He cleared off his desk, moving papers and files to the floor before leaning back in his chair. He stared. He stared down at his empty desk, not thinking. Not hoping. Not doing. Everypony in the station sat in equal silence and stillness. No clues, no leads, nothing. Three known deaths, six missing bodies, unknown number of others. This serial killer had them tied, and was taunting them for what they didn’t know. He tried saving Fluttershy, but the killer was one step ahead. There was a pattern, but he didn’t know what it was. A hoof slammed down in front of him and startled him back to reality. “Flatfoot, what’s this about martial law?” The well-dressed pony stared at him, a serious gaze breaking his no-thought process. “Um, er, we, I mean, I don’t know who’s getting targeted next, and…” He eased a little, straightened up, and gathered his thoughts. “...And I believe the best and safest way to find the killer is to keep an eye on their next targets. Martial law also benefits us in that anypony caught outside is immediately a suspect.” The light blue-gray hoof lifted and the owner looked at him disapprovingly. “You know I don’t really approve of these sorts of measures in most situations…” Keen looked at her in horror at this. “...However, I trust your judgment and will grant you this.” Keen recovered, stood up, and reached his hoof out to shake hers. “Chief Crime Scene, ma’am, thank you very much, ma’am.” She reached hers out and put his down. “Don’t let it happen again. Catch this sick fuck and keep this town safe again.” Scene grabbed her hat and placed it on her navy blue hair before trotting off. She was never a pony to mince words… he thought before leaning back again. His mind had eased a little at the thought of having martial law enacted for the safety of the town (and hopeful capture of the killer), but it still wasn’t able to cope with the murders. However, he had barely a moment’s pause before Clean Cut had arrived at his desk. She, like the chief, was a mare of few words, but unlike the chief, she was very good at mincing them. “Same MO… New details… dress…” “What? You have more intel on the ponies that made up that… thing?” Keen couldn’t bring himself to call that monstrosity anything related to clothing. It was made out of ponies, for the love of Celestia. “Reported missing… months… Thought moved….” she started. “Yeah yeah, we knew that. But what else?” “...Coats… coated… sugar…” She placed a paper on his desk, pointing with a floating quill at the main section of the document. “‘...coats of the ponies were discovered to be covered in sucrose. Unknown how much, as coats were also covered in blood, confirmed to be both of Rarity and of the owner of the skin patch.’ Are you telling me that the killer intentionally covered these ponies in sugar? All six of them?” he questioned incredulously. “Not six…” she corrected. “Nine.” He sat, stunned in disbelief. The killer covered everypony they killed in sugar before killing them. “Do you… do you know any reasons why they would cover these ponies in sugar?” Clean shrugged. Keen had a bit more information to go off of, but just like everything else in this case, it simply didn’t make any sense. Why sugar? What purpose did it serve? “...Bye.” Clean turned away from him, and started to walk from him. He noticed her yawn a bit before turning around once more. “Calm… Sleep…” She yawned again, and disappeared out of the station. He yawned in return, rubbed his eyes, and for once, agreed wholeheartedly with the oddball coroner. He checked the clock; it was 3 AM, an hour and a half since Fluttershy was discovered, and more than twenty hours since he last slept. He needed the rest, and like Clean suggested, it should calm him down. He placed his papers back on his desk and exited the station, heading home. The rest of the department should be fine without him. CauseKeen woke up well-rested, calmer, but just as stressed as he was the day before. He didn’t think of it before going to sleep, but he felt guilty just for sleeping when he could be figuring out this case. Ponies were at risk, and he was just sleeping the hours away. He put his trusty trenchcoat back on, though there wasn’t a whole lot these past few days that it helped him with. It felt… uninspiring. His fedora wasn’t uplifting either. He didn’t feel like the young stallion he once was anymore, and this case hit him harder than anything else could have. Despite the lack of desire, he put on his garments out of habit and left toward Sweet Apple Acres to check up on Applejack. He began his route to ensure the safety of the remaining Elements before he would go to the station. Keen was responsible for the martial law in effect right now, so he felt responsible for the ponies affected most by it as well. He continued south out of town and followed the trail to the orchard. Apple trees dotted the sides of the road, like they did all around Ponyville, leading up to the Apple Family’s pride and joy. The archway bearing the namesake of the orchard marked the path to the farmhouse and his first stop. He turned in, and continued his hike up to the house. It had been a long time since he had been here last, and he felt a twinge of nostalgia at seeing the old barns again. When the farmhouse came into sight, he found that, as requested, numerous officers dotted the perimeter of the house, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. One saw him from a distance and immediately armed himself with a stun spell. “Don’t come any closer or you will be shot! This is your only warning!” the officer shouted to him. Keen quickly cast a spell into the sky, identifying himself. The officer, after thoroughly inspecting the spell, was satisfied with the response and deactivated his horn, allowing Keen to approach. “Good action, officer,” Keen complimented. “Keep it up, and nopony will be able to get the last three Elements.” He lifted a hoof to salute the guard, which was returned immediately. Keen continued to the house and knocked on the door. Granny Smith opened the door briefly, saw the detective standing there, and immediately greeted him into the house. “Well, howdy-do, detective! What did you go and say to make this young un’ here almost wet her britches?” she chastised. Granny took care of Applejack since she was little, raising her into the apple business like everypony else in her family before her. Keen was always able to look at the family with pride, despite his talent lacking any connection with theirs. “I’m sure she already told you, Granny,” Keen replied. “I’d… rather not bring it up again around her if I can help it.” She hobbled over to him and placed a foreleg around his shoulders, bringing him closer. “Don’t let anypony tell you any other way, but yer a good soul, carin’ about us this much,” she whispered. She hugged him, and he hugged her back. They separated, and she continued, “Ah wouldn’ reckon goin’ in there’d be a good idea, Keen. She’s a bit worried ‘bout this whole thing.” Granny blocked the entrance to the living quarters, keeping Keen in the hall. He nodded, and turned. “Just please, Granny. Keep her safe. Please.” Granny closed her eyes and nodded, gesturing to the door. He stepped out and turned to see the door closing behind him. He sadly dipped his head, looked towards the ground, and started the long trek back to Ponyville. At least she’s safe, he thought. “I’ve been reading, because I have to read if I’m nervous, and if you haven’t been able to tell, this whole situation is a little bit nerve wracking, to say the least.” Twilight had been pacing around her library, levitating a book toward her, reading the title, placing it into a stack, and grabbing another. “I read them all… Twice. I have to sort them all now, alphabetically by publish location, then by year, then by number of dedications, then by name of the dedicated in reverse-alphabetical order…” She ranted on, still grabbing and moving books throughout the library. “She’s been this way ever since Rai-” Spike started, before turning toward Twilight, waving Keen toward him, then whispering “Ever since Rainbow Dash. You may not know, but if Twilight didn’t have this library, I think she would have… um…” Spike looked a bit sad, and didn’t finish. Spike was worried about Twilight, keeping stacks of books from falling, feeding her whenever her stomach growled, but letter her mourn in her own way. “Thank you for keeping an eye on her, Spike. I know this whole thing is taking a toll on you too, but…” Keen was going to continue, but Spike had become a bit absentminded, and had wandered to the other side of the library to assist Twilight again. It seems he mourns the same way Twilight does, Keen noted. Twilight’s pet owl worriedly hooted at him as he passed, as if it knew the magnitude of the situation and wished him to do something to help. “I’m sorry, owl, but I’m doing all I can. I really am…” Twilight kept going on about another sorting method, pulling out every book she could and placing them in various stacks around the library. Keen barely managed to get out before she started stacking books on the other side of the door. He felt a bit relieved that her own worrying could prevent the killer from getting inside. “I’ll be back to check up on her later on this evening. I’ll do the same thing I did when I arrived earlier. Keep your guards up.” The officer saluted and stepped out of the way of the detective. It was a short stroll to Sugarcube Corner from here, so Keen wasted no time and readied his ID spell for the officers guarding it. Within minutes, he saw the tip of the building, and shot the spell so the guards would know it was him approaching. The officers separated and allowed him into the shop. Keen jumped when Pinkie came bounding out of the kitchen. “I’m cooking some cupcakes! Do you want one? Be careful, these ones are really really sweet. I may have used a teensy bit too much of my newest secretest ingredient yet!” Keen kept in stride. Everypony has their quirks, and Pinkie must have baked all day as a way of coping. He accepted and sat down at the table. Pinkie joined him, and started talking. “Are you doing alright Keeny?” she asked. She must have noticed his worn look upon arriving. “This case is just getting to me. I’ve done everything I could, tried to find every clue, but nothing makes any sense.” “Maybe because it doesn’t?” She said it with a tone that made it sound obvious. Despite that, he still didn’t get how there couldn’t be a pattern. “There has to be. Nopony just kills without a reason!” “Well, of course, silly! There’s always a reason, but it doesn’t have to make sense.” Pinkie’s pet alligator walked in, chewing on a balloon and walking about the staff area. Keen knew Gummy, having seen him while he sat eating his cupcakes in the past. He was as much a treat to customers as the cupcakes were. A reason to kill, but the reason doesn’t make any sense? That doesn’t make any sense, either! He sat there pondering while Pinkie slowly bounced on her own stool. She seemed intensely interested in the balloon Gummy chewed. “Maybe I can bounce some thoughts off of you, Pinkie. I need some out-of-the-box ideas for this case.” “Okie-dokie-lokie! Shoot!” “The killer’s after the Elements of Harmony, but why? What evil would actually kill the Elements?” “Maaaaaaaybe they don’t want to kill them, but has to.” She seemed saddened by the question, but stuck by his side. “I’m sorry for asking you this stuff, Pinkie. Just ask me to stop when you feel uncomfortable.” “Yeah,” she sadly responded. He stared at her. She’s just as sad as the rest of her friends, but she’s willing to go through this to protect them… Keen felt like he respected the party pony more, now. He didn’t feel like she was just an airhead anymore. “If… If the killer had to kill them, why not try to hide them? Why did they put them out in the open for other ponies to find?” She shrugged. “Maybe they had to kill them, but still wanted to have a bit of fun with them first?” Keen winced. He thought of that, but didn’t want to know if anypony else thought the same. It was too sickening to believe. A loud bang shocked the two of them. Gummy had snuck up under the two of them and popped the balloon he was chomping on. Pinkie jumped out of the chair and looked at the pieces of the balloon. “Sorry about that, Keeny! You know how Gummy is. Always helping me out!” She wandered to the kitchen and came back out immediately with a cupcake. “This is for you!” Keen looked, puzzled, at the cupcake. “I thought you were making cupcakes?” “I still am. I made this one just for you!” “Is this taste-testing for one of your new cupcakes or something?” Pinkie shrugged. “Sorta.” Keen ate a small piece of the cupcake and kept thinking aloud. “What sort of pony knows how to cut open ponies like that, anyway?” Pinkie looked at him with a gleam of pride in her eyes. “Lots of practice! At least, that’s how I get good at things.” He took another bite. He felt as tired as ever, and thought his eyes were fighting against him. “But… Why the Elements of Harmony? Why?” He finished the rest of his cupcake in one bite, savoring the odd but delicious frosting. “It was random, of course! Gummy picks these balloons, see? And when they pop, they have a number in them, and each number is somepony! And I don’t make the rules, it could be anypony!” Pinkie bent over and lifted back up with a piece of paper in her hair. Keen looked at her, first with a bewildered look, but then with a look of horror. “Y-you? You killed them? B-but…” “They were my friends, I know. I’m still sad by that. But I don’t make the rules.” “You were with us when Flutters-!” “The Mirror Pond, but I’m still kind of scared of it since last time…” Keen staggered out of the stool and dropped to his knees. He had no energy left. Pinkie stood over him. “I guess tomorrow, we’ll have a new secret ingredient! And this will be the secretiest ingredient ever! I bet they won’t even be able to detect what I added!” She snorted. “Keeny, it was your number I got today! Let’s have some fun, okay?” Keen saw her smile, then blacked out.
Colors“This is your best batch yet, Pinkie!” a stallion complimented while chewing happily on a multicolored-iced cupcake. His tan tail hung over the stool he sat at, covered partially by a similarly-colored trenchcoat he was wearing. Most thought him a bit odd that he’d wear a trenchcoat during a perfectly sunny day. He did so because it made the most sense. How could he investigate without it? Keen Flatfloot was his name. He preferred to go by Keen or Detective Keen, mainly. He wasn’t fond of Flatfoot. He’s had too many bungled investigations because somepony would make the mistake of thinking Fleetfoot was said, and peace is something that needs to be kept during an investigations. Celebrities are simply not the best method for retaining peace. “I’m glad you like it, Keeny! I used a new secret ingredient for these! Get as much as you want, ‘cause once they’re gone, they’re gone!” Pinkie exclaimed shortly before popping two of the same cupcakes into her mouth. Keen always made it a point to drop by Sugarcube Corner every so often during his shift, just to chat with the locals. Keeps the locals up to date and friendly with the local law enforcement. Not that Ponyville needed it, really. Nothing ever happens except for maybe the occasional lost cat or possession. It’s always been so boring, so he just trots around town, greeting everypony, and helping out with any light chores that wouldn’t force him to overcommit. It’s important to keep the department in a good light, or at least, that’s what the chief keeps telling him. He scarfed down the other half of the cupcake in a single bite, levitated a napkin, and wiped his mouth of any excess frosting. Pinkie always made the best secret-ingredient cupcakes, and she always uses a different ingredient every few months. Nopony has any idea whatever it is she uses, but everypony agrees, whatever it is, it’s absolutely delicious. “Thanks again, Pinkie! I’ll be back in later on this week, so I’ll see ya around!” He hopped off of the stool and left the bakery with an enthusiastic Pinkie smiling and waving behind him. As he passed by the entrance, he levitated his hat back onto his head and walked out. Keen felt relieved that he had his hat on, seeing as it kept his eyes from the strong sunlight outside. The pegasi must be busy today. There’s not a cloud in the sky, he thought. A nice breeze drifted through the town, doing no more than rustling his coat and mahogany mane. He lazily strolled through the roads, briefly glancing at the fruit stands and salesponies positioned on either side. Peace and tranquility was what he came to expect from Ponyville, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. His horn glowed briefly and caused his body to convulse a bit. The magic was a combination of red and blue, and made a sound only he could hear. It wasn’t much, but it did alert him. A call? Now? he thought. He’d just gotten to the best part of town: the farmer’s market. One of his favorite ponies sold fruit there, and there wasn’t a whole lot in town he looked forward to more than chatting with her. “Detective Flatfoot? We need you here now. This is… oh god, just get over here.” His horn stopped glowing. The voice on the other end sounded a bit nauseous, which is unusual, given nopony in the department had a history of sickness, and the only sick officers were out today. Probably somepony’s prank gone a little awry… A dizzy spell, most likely. They weren’t common, no, but it happened sometimes. A small colt or filly trying out a new spell on a friend just to see what happens isn’t much of a crime, but it gives him something to do. He trotted over to where the call came from. The spell that alerted him had three effects. The first was the light and sounds that alerted him of the second, a voice transmission from the unicorn who called him. The last was an imprint in his mind of where the call came from. The spell’s functions were a bit complex to understand, but the spell itself was simple enough to learn. Keen wasn’t the most able unicorn when it came to magic. From what he could understand, the place he was called to was under a pretty large cloud on the outskirts of Ponyville. It wasn’t far from where he already was, so once he left the town, he knew exactly where he was going. Oh, the Dash place. Wonder what happened with her this time? Rainbow Dash was well known not only for her speed and athleticism, but also her ability to create property damage with those talents. This call was probably no more than another blunder that he had to report on. After a short walk down the only path to her house, he noticed other patrolponies and some caution tape strewn about the base of her cloud, barring entry to all except those authorized. He figured almost the entire force must have been there, as the largest number of ponies he’d ever seen were wandering about the crime scene. He pulled the tape up and walked under, spotting the mischievous blue pegasus among the crowd. “Rainbow, how many times this month are you going to make me come out here and clean up your mess?” he joked during his approach. She neither turned nor responded at all. Usually by now, she’d quip one back at him. “Rainbow?” he asked again. “Detective Flatfoot, uh, she can’t talk to you…” an officer tentatively mentioned to him as he inched closer. The smell around her was getting a bit strong and unusual, causing him to gag slightly when the breeze picked up and launched an odorous attack on him. He moved his collar closer to his snout to cover the smell, and moved even closer. “Oh… oh my… I think…” he started before he felt a small puddle of vomit forming in the back of his throat. He understood now why Rainbow Dash never responded. She was no longer of this world, but in the worst possible way he’d never been able to imagine. Her wings had been sewn back on at the base, and her cutie marks had been stitched back on to her rump. A large strip of skin on her back and leg was still missing, revealing the mannequin underneath. Keen stepped back and vomited on the ground behind him. His lunch and snacks, like this unfortunate mare, were no longer where they belonged, and the same perpetrator was behind the loss of both. “What sick pony would even do this?” he choked out. Another officer stepped forward. “Sir, that’s why we called you. We have no idea.” Nopony in the area seemed to have taken it well. Her eyeless gaze and restitched face didn’t sit well with anypony, and it seemed Keen wasn’t the only one who vomited on first glance. Several other officers still sat on the ground near what he could only assume were their own responses, and others still were continuing their first impression. Keen gathered what energy he had left, swallowed what lunch he had left, and started working. This is what he trained for, but not what he ever expected to actually happen. He staggered over to the scene and began examining what he had: a body and the area around it. He wiped his muzzle and pulled out his notepad and quill, ready to take notes. “Has a pegasus already checked the interior of her home?” he started. A few feet in front of him, an officer raised her wing. Before he could even ask, she slowly shook her head and lowered her wing. Great. No leads there. “How about witnesses? Anypony seen her being dragged here?” “Sir, she wasn’t dragged here, or levitated. We’ve already run our magic scans and no unicorn magic had been used anywhere in the vicinity for several days. In addition, we’ve been unable to discern any drag marks anywhere near the body.” The bespectacled earth pony turned back toward the body and continued examining what he could. Keen wrote down a few points indicating this, and turned toward the next officer. “Autopsy report?” “No, sir. Estimated time of death was 4 PM yesterday. Our coroner said he’d be able to get a more exact time once he gets the bod-” he paused. “-what’s left of the body.” Keen nodded and jotted down the details. “Something isn’t making sense…” he mumbled. “Anything found around the body that could have been from our killer?” he continued. “No, sir. Nothing besides the dirt at our hooves.” “Hoofprints?” “No, sir.” “Seems like our killer is probably a pegasus, then.” “No, sir,” the officer shook his head. “We’ve already scoured the ground for wingbeat marks, but there are none around the body.” Keen paused. Something wasn’t making sense. How did the body get here? Where was she murdered? And who in Equestria could even manage to move her without a trace? “Hrm…. How can I help you?” a maroon mare inquired. Keen had finished his investigation (or what little of it there was) at the crime scene and had gone home to contemplate his notes. There wasn’t a whole lot to go on until he had the autopsy report from the coroner. After resting on his thoughts, he made the trek to the coroner’s office to figure out what could have happened to Dash. The unicorn in question seemed a bit aloof. Not quite all there. Her lab coat was patterned with blood in odd places, as if something had squirted out at her unexpectedly. She always has to ensure everyone that it isn’t, in fact, fresh, and that blood stains worse than wine most days. She tapped her hoof absentmindedly at the desk, awaiting the answer from Keen. “Yes, Ms…” he started, glancing at her chest for a name plate, as he had forgotten her name. It was there, but a bit hard to read, as it was positioned upside-down. “...Ms...Clean… Cut. I’m here to ask for the autopsy report for Ms. Rainbow Dash.” She glanced at him briefly before looking down at her tag. She stared at it for a few more seconds than Keen thought necessary before shrugging and jumping off of her stool. She gestured towards a box on the desk before trotting through the doors behind her. Keen grabbed one of the sterile horn wraps, positioned it properly on his horn, and followed. She may seem like an airhead, but she was the best in the business. At least, the best in Ponyville. He hadn’t really met many coroners. “Hrm… I… uh… Dash…” she stammered to herself. She was not much of a pony-pony, so wasn’t quite as skilled as others at speaking. She browsed through the lockers on the wall, checking each label for the correct name. She squeaked out an “ah!” upon finding it and pulled out a table, on which lied the dead pegasus. Or, at least, the skin of the dead pegasus. “Dash… She, uh… There wasn’t.. er… a body, really. Mannequin.” She gestured toward the corner where a red-stained mannequin sat. It was cut in a few places where Clean had to carefully extract the parts from the hide. “Just skin.” She poked the skin with a sterilized magic prod to emphasize her point. Keen felt nauseous again seeing the mutilated mare, but kept his composure this time. “How was she killed?” he asked. “Tortured…. Ripped… Slashed… Organs… Skinned… Drugged… Don’t know which.” She pointed with her hoof to several areas while she listed out the causes: the strip of skin on Rainbow’s back, her wings and throat, an I-shaped cut on her torso, her cutie marks, followed by Clean gesturing towards her own mouth. “Drugged? How were you able to figure that out?” Keen was interested in how this pony was drugged. Rainbow was a ball of energy, and if she suspected somepony of harming her, she’d be gone faster than they could blink. “Follicles…. Not much… Trace…” She gestured again toward the skin, but this time, to a part that was freshly sliced as a sample. Clean Cut levitated a clipboard to Keen to show him what she meant. He got it under control himself to see what she meant. A single phrase was underlined thrice under the section Chemicals: ground snorchid. “Non-lethal… Short nap…” Keen thought for a moment. “Short nap? So you think Rainbow woke up shortly after being drugged? And that the killer did that on purpose?” Clean nodded. He jotted down this information into his notebook. Now he knew several things he didn’t before. The killer had access to rare flowers and herbs and knew how to convert it into potent drugs. The killer wanted Rainbow to be awake for the torture he or she had in store, and knew how to taxidermy her after the deed was done. Whoever this pony is, they probably have a cutie mark for murder, for Celestia’s sake. He knew more, but it only brought more questions to the table. “Do you have a time of death?” “Before discovered…. three to five hours… maybe…” She laid another hoof on the pegasus’ skin. “Still warm.” Keen began to question that last statement before she interrupted with, “Then… Not now….” She yawned, yanked the clipboard from his grasp, and pushed Rainbow back into the locker. He followed her out of the morgue and into the sitting area once again, where she gave him a manila envelope. She got back up on her stool, laid her head down on her hooves, and fell asleep. Keen pocketed the autopsy report, whispered a “thank you,” to her, and traipsed out. This is going to be a long week, he thought as he sighed and headed to the station.
Coutre“Welcome back, Keen! I see you didn’t tear your mane out over Clean Cut like you did last time,” the secretary chided. Keen was able to deal with her much better this time than the last time they had to deal with a suspected murder. She’s not the most tolerable pony in town. “Yeah, she cut to the chase this time. Not a whole lot of waiting for the next word.” He did find that a bit unusual. Clean was a wordy pony despite her slow speech, but she didn’t mince words at all. Must have gotten to her, too, even if she didn’t look it. Keen magicked a mug of coffee over to him from the lounge area before sitting down at his desk to look over the two days worth of notes. He was getting closer, he knew it, but something still wasn’t adding up. What sort of killer drops off a pony without leaving a trace of magic, wingbeats, or hoofprints? How did Rainbow Dash die, and why was she butchered the way she was? Could there really exist such a sick and depraved mind in Ponyville? He glanced at his suspect list: empty. He couldn’t think of any pony or creature in Ponyville that could even think about doing this, let alone one that did. He sipped his mug and nearly spat it back out when he realized he forgot to sweeten it. He forced a swallow, added a bit of milk and sugar, and tried again. Better. Motives… Why would anyone want to kill Rainbow Dash? he pondered. That one wasn’t too difficult. With such a prideful attitude and competitive spirit, it wasn’t farfetched to think that somepony would want to kill her as retribution. He continued thinking and decided that he couldn’t write down anypony’s name for that, either. Too many suspects based on motive. Keen took off his hat, placed it on the desk, and ruffled his mane. This wasn’t supposed to happen here. He sat there, hooves in his mane, for a few minutes. I transferred from Manehattan to avoid this stuff. He sighed once again, moved his hat to the floor beside his desk, and continued to think. Something wasn’t adding up, and he had to figure it out. He sat in silence for hours. He’d tap a quill for a few minutes at a time, jot something down, then scratch it out just as soon. The clock above the office ticked away. He took out the autopsy report and reread it for the thirteenth time. Suddenly, he paused, then slammed his hooves on the desk. Everypony in the room turned towards him to see what had happened. Keen swept up his hat, notebook, and autopsy report in a flourish and galloped to the conference room where the rest of the officers threw ideas back and forth. As he burst in, he exclaimed, “Did we ever find the body?” The patrolponies looked at him, then snickered. “Of course we did. You were there.” “No, that was the skin. I’m talking about what goes inside.” The ponies stopped snickering and just stared at him. “No. We weren’t able to find a trace of it anywhere.” “So? If we find it, we find the killer!” “What do you suggest we do to find it, then?” a pony interjected. Keen stared back at the pony, then slumped his shoulders, and began to walk out. “I can’t even stomach the prospect that it just vanished…” He slowly closed the door to the conference room behind him, and began walking to his desk. He glanced at the clock. Four-thirty. Only half an hour more before he could go home and get some rest. Keen was always very attentive, and was usually the first to figure a case out. It was his special talent, after all. “Detective! Detective Keen!” the secretary yelled from the other side of the room. “We got another one!” He lifted his face, stared in her direction, before simply shouting, “What?” This was a crafty killer, this one. On his way to the crime scene, he dropped by Sugarcube Corner for a confectionary pick-me-up. Pinkie assured him that these spiral-iced cupcakes were brand new, using another new ingredient, and were guaranteed to satisfy his hunger. “I fashioned them out of a few spare ingredients I had,” she informed him before chortling. They were certainly different than the ones he had a few days prior, but just as delicious. He was headed to the other side of town to Carousel Boutique. Apparently, Rarity, the owner, was the victim. He thought it odd that two of the Elements were now dead, and immediately requested the department move the other four into their custody to protect them. He told Pinkie while he was there that she needed to go to the department immediately, and had his closest friend, Powdered Prints, collect Applejack. He arrived at the Boutique to the same smell he experienced last time, at Rainbow’s house. This is going to be another nasty one… he thought before passing the perimeter and parting the curtains into the shop. Sitting in the middle of the shop, wearing a garment, was the one and only Rarity, attached to a mannequin the same way Rainbow was when she was found. Strangely, though, there were less visible cuts on the body, her cutie marks were left alone, and her face had been made-up like she was heading to an important appointment. “Same MO, but where did she get this…” he started, gesturing toward the “dress” she was wearing. It was sewn in a way similar to the way Rarity sews her own dresses, fitted especially for her, but the fabric was made of pony hide. Not her own, as the colors didn’t match her own coat, and quilted together using bits and pieces from looked like six different ponies. None of the coats matched the color of Rainbow’s coat, either. “We’ve confirmed those as the coats of six missing Ponyville residents: Quenched Thirst, Frothy Foam, Woodwind, Starch Naked, Hour House, and Year Long. None of their bodies have been found, and given the business this place gets, our hoofprint and wingbeat evidence is a no-go.” Keen stared at the hodgepodge on the deceased Rarity’s flank. Rarity, dead and wearing a dress made up of other ponies… He took out his notebook and started writing down more notes. “Whoever this killer is, they’re targeting the Elements of Harmony. Rainbow and Rarity both died to the same pony, that’s for sure. The killer practiced on other ponies before enacting this sick plan and I’m sure one of the other four are next.” He continued to examine Rarity’s body, trying to figure out if they left a clue. Serial killers tend to do so, just as a way to taunt the investigators, to taunt him. Just a game to them. He wrote a few questions down in his notebook. Why did they cut up Rainbow so much, but left Rarity’s skin essentially untouched? How were they able to mimic Rarity’s style with this dress so well? What did they do to those other six ponies? Are there others? He put away his notebook and started to investigate the rest of the boutique on a hunch. It looks like a dress Rarity would make, so what if it is? Most of the officers were still investigating the bottom floor, and only a few had made it to the top floor. They were mostly searching her designing room and hadn’t wandered too much farther. He kept going until he found a door labeled with “Sweetie Belle’s Room! Keep Out!” Her sister, he thought. Where is she, anyhow? He nudged the door open to peek inside, sure there wouldn’t be anything in the room. As it opened he saw a fully furnished room fit for a filly. Nothing out of the ordinary from an initial glance: her made was unmade, toys were strewn about the room, and most importantly, it was empty. No Sweetie Belle anywhere to be seen. He sighed, relieved. Whoever the killer was, they didn’t kill foals. As he was about to leave, he noticed a trail leading to her miniature sewing machine, with toys and crafts pushed to either side. Curious, he followed the trail and inspected the sewing machine. It was a normal kid-version of the professional machines Rarity used herself for the industry, and of an exceptionally high quality. However, it had been used recently, with bits of hair littering the machine. Colorful hair. “GET UP HERE!” he howled downstairs. Four officers entered the room shortly after the outburst, with weapons at the ready. When they saw Keen standing near the sewing machine, they reholstered their weapons and carefully tiphoofed over. “The sick fuck made her do it! The killer forced Rarity to make her own death cloak!” Keen frothed. He pushed past the ponies to the hallway, taking his notebook out briefly to record the new information before putting it away and hurrying out of the shop. Too many thoughts clouded his head. The killer, the victims, the way they’re found. He vomited outside of the boutique, in front of several officers. He thought he had a strong stomach for these things, but he’d never seen anything as depraved as this. Whoever did this was sick beyond measure for even thinking about it, and sicker still for actually going through with it. He threw up again. He never signed up for this. He wanted a peaceful retirement. He wanted to live the rest of his life in a peaceful podunk town, saving the occasional cat or dealing with a petty theft here and there. Not this. Not even Manehattan- Again. This got to him more than he cared to admit. He wiped his muzzle with a hoofkerchief an officer handed him, pocketed it and assured that he’d get it back to him after Keen washed it, and walked back inside. Everypony turned toward him, but didn’t look up at his face. They knew what he was feeling, as they all felt it too. He walked back over to Rarity, put a hoof around her lifeless, stuffed shoulder, and sighed. “I’m… so sorry. For your sister… I’ll catch this fuck.” He walked back toward the door, nodded at the officer standing watch, and went home. Everypony understood completely. No detective can work when he’s emotionally compromised. Nopony can. He groggily stumbled back into the department, immediately grabbed a coffee, and gulped it down. Before leaving the lobby, he filled a second cup, didn’t bother with the milk and sugar, and flopped down into his chair at his desk. The papers he needed were already there. He could always trust his fellow officers to come through. He opened up the investigation notes the other officers gifted him, to read over what other discoveries they made. At the top of the first paper, he read a note: “You’re in charge now. Sorry.” Thanks, guys, he thought. And truly, he was grateful. He wanted to take this perp down and give ‘em the chair. Nopony deserved the deaths these ponies were forced on them. Nopony. He continued reading. They noticed that the skin-cloak she was wearing had been washed, and found traces of Rarity’s blood on the chestpiece. They concluded that the killer tortured her while she was wearing it, killed her, removed and washed the garment, and then refitted it on her. They still couldn’t discover any traces of her innards anywhere on the property, but were confident that the murder happened in the boutique. He flipped through the pages. One page was labeled “Sweetie Belle.” There were a few lines mentioning her sewing machine, but one was circled: “staying at friend’s clubhouse since day before, doesn’t know.” He sighed. It was hard to lose a friend, but harder to lose a sister. He didn’t want to be the one to break the news. Anything he thought important, he jotted down into his own notebook. He perused every page, making sure not to miss a single detail, reread it, then put down the packet. He glanced around the desk to see if they dropped off anything else for him. The autopsy report was a ways off. Clean Cut had only just got Rarity that morning, so he had to let her do her job. He picked up his coffee and noticed a note with a dark coffee ring marring its surface. It mentioned something about “E---men--” “Oh! The other Elements!” he realized. He grabbed whatever notes he could and trotted over to the interrogation rooms on the east wall. They weren’t prisoners, but nopony was safer than when they were in the department. It was one thing they were proud of. He walked into the holding room they were kept in and saw Twilight Sparkle, Pinkie, and Applejack huddled together. Keen noticed they were all recovering from the news of their other friends, wiping tears from their eyes. “Ah can’t believe Rainbow’d go this way… She always seemed like the racin’ accident type…” “Who would do this? I mean, nopony in history was ever this… this…” Twilight sobbed. “They’re gone. Jus’ gone.” None of the ponies glanced up at him when he walked in. Twilight used her wings and pulled her friends closer to her when he got closer to them. Keen knelt down beside them, and stated, “I’m so sorry.” He placed a single hoof on Applejack’s shoulder, lifted it, and walked back out. He had planned to talk with them about who may have done this, when they last saw their other friends, but didn’t realize they weren’t ready to talk about it. He wandered to the next room over, the observation room, and entered. Several other ponies were watching the three in the room, discussing the case. “Where’s the...um… Fluttershy?” Keen interrupted. One of the officers stopped talking and turned toward him. “We’re still looking for her. She wasn’t in her cottage, and we still haven’t been able to find her in her usual hideouts.” “Asked anypony?” “Yessir. Nopony has seen her since Rarity was discovered.” “Shit.”
Caution“Find anything! Any clues, any trace! Find that pony now!” Keen demanded. Fluttershy’s cottage had been turned upside down in search of her. Angel, her pet rabbit, was also nowhere to be seen. Her room, kitchen, living quarters, and even her basement (hidden behind a bookcase, so presumed to be a panic room) were all populated with creatures, but not the sought-after pony. Keen was getting frustrated and worried. She was the third of the sextet to fall victim, and he couldn’t let the other three be touched. Harmony was being destroyed one at a time. “Search the grounds! The Everfree Forest!” Some ponies had stayed behind in the house, investigating over what had already been searched. Keen turned toward them. “Did you hear me? Go!” he ordered. The ponies, shocked, stumbled up and ran out the door. He sighed. I’m sorry you had to lose so many of your friends… I hope you can forgive me for my failures… Keen took one last look around the cottage before trotting out himself. He had to figure out where this pony went, and fast. A familiar buzzing and flashing light snapped him out of his one-track mind and increased his heart rate at the same time. Please don’t be… “We need you at the town square, Flatfoot. It’s… It’s Fluttershy.” He arrived, emotionally drained and exhausted. He knew what he was getting into long before he saw the scene. Of course, he already had to deal with it twice before. He crossed the police tape and approached the stage that was set up for a festival the day after. At center stage, with spotlights focused on the otherwise moonlit display, stood Fluttershy in morbid irony. “Another one…” Keen sighed. He felt powerless against whatever force was at work. Discord was awful, yes, but he never killed anypony. Nightmare Moon just wanted to be revered and plunge the world into eternal night. The changelings just wanted to feed on love, though nopony knew what that entailed. Whoever this killer was… They were the true monster. Fluttershy, like the two before her, had been skinned and restitched, eyes missing, and placed on a mannequin. Unlike the others, the mannequin had been altered for a special pose. Her left foreleg had been raised, and fastened to her lifeless hoof was a microphone, lifted to her muzzle. She was positioned to seem like she was singing her heart out. On her back was another abnormality: Angel, her pet rabbit, had also been taxidermied, holding a miniature microphone and posed to be singing just like his owner. His left paw was extended upwards with his right paw gripping the mic. “What a sick sense of humor…” Keen mumbled. It didn’t seem to stop there. The backdrop of the stage had been repainted, replacing the otherwise peaceful painted mountain with a flow of red lava in an erupting volcano. Forensic ponies were already taking samples of the paint, but Keen knew already what they’d find. Drained completely, Fluttershy was displayed for all to see, contrary to everything she stood for. The same officers as before circled the scene, collecting evidence, inspecting every detail they could discover. Keen, as before, interrogated everypony, hoping for the littlest bit of information about who could have done this. But just as before, nopony had a clue. “Sir, you should probably take a look at this,” a pegasus motioned to Keen. The pony was gripping a paper in his mouth, offering it to the detective. Keen magically grasped it and began reading. “Pinkie is planning this festival tomorrow, Twilight is the speaker, and Applejack is acting as a bouncer. I feel like if anypony would do anything, it’d be tomorrow. It’s a great opportunity for the killer to knock out three birds with one stone.” Keen looked at the pegasus with leering eyes, but nodded. “We’re cancelling this thing. Nopony is to leave their houses until we figure out what’s going on.” “Martial law?” the pegasus was taken aback. Martial law hadn’t been enacted since Nightmare Moon! “But sir, isn’t that a little ex-” “Get the chief, but I promise she’ll agree. Station ponies at each of the Element’s houses, and don’t let anypony in or out unless it’s me or the chief. Got it?” The pony saluted and ran off. Keen walked to the perimeter, motioned for an officer to come closer, and stated, “Get these ponies out of here. Give Clean Cut Fluttershy and her rabbit for an autopsy, and contact me if anything out of the ordinary is found.” The pony ran off, and Keen continued out of the scene. He had never felt so tired as he did then. Ponies were dying, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it. If this continued, not only would there be more victims, but the world would lose another important element to combating threats to harmony. And if they killed Twilight, even without Discord, Equestria would fall into chaos at the loss of a princess. He trotted wearily to the station, unsure of what to do next. Rainbow Dash had her cutie mark sliced off, her wings chopped, and was reduced to standing on the ground. She lost all that made her who she desired to be. Her pride removed from her body, her aerodynamics ruined. The most lively pony in town, dead. Rarity was forced to sew a dress made from other ponies, against her will, and made to wear it before being killed herself. Forced to corrupt the one thing that made her what she loved, and killed bearing the fruits of her labor, no more than the mannequins she used herself. Fluttershy made to watch her pet die in front of her, stuffed, and posed before becoming the same herself. She loved to sing, but hated performing, hated crowds, hated being displayed. This killer knew these ponies. Knew them well. Tortured each one of them with what they loved the most. Tortured. What sort of pony would torture such loving souls as these? What sort of pony finds this cruel irony humorous that they would do it again and again? Keen stopped thinking the moment he sat at his desk. It was too much for him, this case. Too emotional, too stressful. He hadn’t had a moment to rest since it began, and it had started to get to him. He cleared off his desk, moving papers and files to the floor before leaning back in his chair. He stared. He stared down at his empty desk, not thinking. Not hoping. Not doing. Everypony in the station sat in equal silence and stillness. No clues, no leads, nothing. Three known deaths, six missing bodies, unknown number of others. This serial killer had them tied, and was taunting them for what they didn’t know. He tried saving Fluttershy, but the killer was one step ahead. There was a pattern, but he didn’t know what it was. A hoof slammed down in front of him and startled him back to reality. “Flatfoot, what’s this about martial law?” The well-dressed pony stared at him, a serious gaze breaking his no-thought process. “Um, er, we, I mean, I don’t know who’s getting targeted next, and…” He eased a little, straightened up, and gathered his thoughts. “...And I believe the best and safest way to find the killer is to keep an eye on their next targets. Martial law also benefits us in that anypony caught outside is immediately a suspect.” The light blue-gray hoof lifted and the owner looked at him disapprovingly. “You know I don’t really approve of these sorts of measures in most situations…” Keen looked at her in horror at this. “...However, I trust your judgment and will grant you this.” Keen recovered, stood up, and reached his hoof out to shake hers. “Chief Crime Scene, ma’am, thank you very much, ma’am.” She reached hers out and put his down. “Don’t let it happen again. Catch this sick fuck and keep this town safe again.” Scene grabbed her hat and placed it on her navy blue hair before trotting off. She was never a pony to mince words… he thought before leaning back again. His mind had eased a little at the thought of having martial law enacted for the safety of the town (and hopeful capture of the killer), but it still wasn’t able to cope with the murders. However, he had barely a moment’s pause before Clean Cut had arrived at his desk. She, like the chief, was a mare of few words, but unlike the chief, she was very good at mincing them. “Same MO… New details… dress…” “What? You have more intel on the ponies that made up that… thing?” Keen couldn’t bring himself to call that monstrosity anything related to clothing. It was made out of ponies, for the love of Celestia. “Reported missing… months… Thought moved….” she started. “Yeah yeah, we knew that. But what else?” “...Coats… coated… sugar…” She placed a paper on his desk, pointing with a floating quill at the main section of the document. “‘...coats of the ponies were discovered to be covered in sucrose. Unknown how much, as coats were also covered in blood, confirmed to be both of Rarity and of the owner of the skin patch.’ Are you telling me that the killer intentionally covered these ponies in sugar? All six of them?” he questioned incredulously. “Not six…” she corrected. “Nine.” He sat, stunned in disbelief. The killer covered everypony they killed in sugar before killing them. “Do you… do you know any reasons why they would cover these ponies in sugar?” Clean shrugged. Keen had a bit more information to go off of, but just like everything else in this case, it simply didn’t make any sense. Why sugar? What purpose did it serve? “...Bye.” Clean turned away from him, and started to walk from him. He noticed her yawn a bit before turning around once more. “Calm… Sleep…” She yawned again, and disappeared out of the station. He yawned in return, rubbed his eyes, and for once, agreed wholeheartedly with the oddball coroner. He checked the clock; it was 3 AM, an hour and a half since Fluttershy was discovered, and more than twenty hours since he last slept. He needed the rest, and like Clean suggested, it should calm him down. He placed his papers back on his desk and exited the station, heading home. The rest of the department should be fine without him.
CauseKeen woke up well-rested, calmer, but just as stressed as he was the day before. He didn’t think of it before going to sleep, but he felt guilty just for sleeping when he could be figuring out this case. Ponies were at risk, and he was just sleeping the hours away. He put his trusty trenchcoat back on, though there wasn’t a whole lot these past few days that it helped him with. It felt… uninspiring. His fedora wasn’t uplifting either. He didn’t feel like the young stallion he once was anymore, and this case hit him harder than anything else could have. Despite the lack of desire, he put on his garments out of habit and left toward Sweet Apple Acres to check up on Applejack. He began his route to ensure the safety of the remaining Elements before he would go to the station. Keen was responsible for the martial law in effect right now, so he felt responsible for the ponies affected most by it as well. He continued south out of town and followed the trail to the orchard. Apple trees dotted the sides of the road, like they did all around Ponyville, leading up to the Apple Family’s pride and joy. The archway bearing the namesake of the orchard marked the path to the farmhouse and his first stop. He turned in, and continued his hike up to the house. It had been a long time since he had been here last, and he felt a twinge of nostalgia at seeing the old barns again. When the farmhouse came into sight, he found that, as requested, numerous officers dotted the perimeter of the house, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. One saw him from a distance and immediately armed himself with a stun spell. “Don’t come any closer or you will be shot! This is your only warning!” the officer shouted to him. Keen quickly cast a spell into the sky, identifying himself. The officer, after thoroughly inspecting the spell, was satisfied with the response and deactivated his horn, allowing Keen to approach. “Good action, officer,” Keen complimented. “Keep it up, and nopony will be able to get the last three Elements.” He lifted a hoof to salute the guard, which was returned immediately. Keen continued to the house and knocked on the door. Granny Smith opened the door briefly, saw the detective standing there, and immediately greeted him into the house. “Well, howdy-do, detective! What did you go and say to make this young un’ here almost wet her britches?” she chastised. Granny took care of Applejack since she was little, raising her into the apple business like everypony else in her family before her. Keen was always able to look at the family with pride, despite his talent lacking any connection with theirs. “I’m sure she already told you, Granny,” Keen replied. “I’d… rather not bring it up again around her if I can help it.” She hobbled over to him and placed a foreleg around his shoulders, bringing him closer. “Don’t let anypony tell you any other way, but yer a good soul, carin’ about us this much,” she whispered. She hugged him, and he hugged her back. They separated, and she continued, “Ah wouldn’ reckon goin’ in there’d be a good idea, Keen. She’s a bit worried ‘bout this whole thing.” Granny blocked the entrance to the living quarters, keeping Keen in the hall. He nodded, and turned. “Just please, Granny. Keep her safe. Please.” Granny closed her eyes and nodded, gesturing to the door. He stepped out and turned to see the door closing behind him. He sadly dipped his head, looked towards the ground, and started the long trek back to Ponyville. At least she’s safe, he thought. “I’ve been reading, because I have to read if I’m nervous, and if you haven’t been able to tell, this whole situation is a little bit nerve wracking, to say the least.” Twilight had been pacing around her library, levitating a book toward her, reading the title, placing it into a stack, and grabbing another. “I read them all… Twice. I have to sort them all now, alphabetically by publish location, then by year, then by number of dedications, then by name of the dedicated in reverse-alphabetical order…” She ranted on, still grabbing and moving books throughout the library. “She’s been this way ever since Rai-” Spike started, before turning toward Twilight, waving Keen toward him, then whispering “Ever since Rainbow Dash. You may not know, but if Twilight didn’t have this library, I think she would have… um…” Spike looked a bit sad, and didn’t finish. Spike was worried about Twilight, keeping stacks of books from falling, feeding her whenever her stomach growled, but letter her mourn in her own way. “Thank you for keeping an eye on her, Spike. I know this whole thing is taking a toll on you too, but…” Keen was going to continue, but Spike had become a bit absentminded, and had wandered to the other side of the library to assist Twilight again. It seems he mourns the same way Twilight does, Keen noted. Twilight’s pet owl worriedly hooted at him as he passed, as if it knew the magnitude of the situation and wished him to do something to help. “I’m sorry, owl, but I’m doing all I can. I really am…” Twilight kept going on about another sorting method, pulling out every book she could and placing them in various stacks around the library. Keen barely managed to get out before she started stacking books on the other side of the door. He felt a bit relieved that her own worrying could prevent the killer from getting inside. “I’ll be back to check up on her later on this evening. I’ll do the same thing I did when I arrived earlier. Keep your guards up.” The officer saluted and stepped out of the way of the detective. It was a short stroll to Sugarcube Corner from here, so Keen wasted no time and readied his ID spell for the officers guarding it. Within minutes, he saw the tip of the building, and shot the spell so the guards would know it was him approaching. The officers separated and allowed him into the shop. Keen jumped when Pinkie came bounding out of the kitchen. “I’m cooking some cupcakes! Do you want one? Be careful, these ones are really really sweet. I may have used a teensy bit too much of my newest secretest ingredient yet!” Keen kept in stride. Everypony has their quirks, and Pinkie must have baked all day as a way of coping. He accepted and sat down at the table. Pinkie joined him, and started talking. “Are you doing alright Keeny?” she asked. She must have noticed his worn look upon arriving. “This case is just getting to me. I’ve done everything I could, tried to find every clue, but nothing makes any sense.” “Maybe because it doesn’t?” She said it with a tone that made it sound obvious. Despite that, he still didn’t get how there couldn’t be a pattern. “There has to be. Nopony just kills without a reason!” “Well, of course, silly! There’s always a reason, but it doesn’t have to make sense.” Pinkie’s pet alligator walked in, chewing on a balloon and walking about the staff area. Keen knew Gummy, having seen him while he sat eating his cupcakes in the past. He was as much a treat to customers as the cupcakes were. A reason to kill, but the reason doesn’t make any sense? That doesn’t make any sense, either! He sat there pondering while Pinkie slowly bounced on her own stool. She seemed intensely interested in the balloon Gummy chewed. “Maybe I can bounce some thoughts off of you, Pinkie. I need some out-of-the-box ideas for this case.” “Okie-dokie-lokie! Shoot!” “The killer’s after the Elements of Harmony, but why? What evil would actually kill the Elements?” “Maaaaaaaybe they don’t want to kill them, but has to.” She seemed saddened by the question, but stuck by his side. “I’m sorry for asking you this stuff, Pinkie. Just ask me to stop when you feel uncomfortable.” “Yeah,” she sadly responded. He stared at her. She’s just as sad as the rest of her friends, but she’s willing to go through this to protect them… Keen felt like he respected the party pony more, now. He didn’t feel like she was just an airhead anymore. “If… If the killer had to kill them, why not try to hide them? Why did they put them out in the open for other ponies to find?” She shrugged. “Maybe they had to kill them, but still wanted to have a bit of fun with them first?” Keen winced. He thought of that, but didn’t want to know if anypony else thought the same. It was too sickening to believe. A loud bang shocked the two of them. Gummy had snuck up under the two of them and popped the balloon he was chomping on. Pinkie jumped out of the chair and looked at the pieces of the balloon. “Sorry about that, Keeny! You know how Gummy is. Always helping me out!” She wandered to the kitchen and came back out immediately with a cupcake. “This is for you!” Keen looked, puzzled, at the cupcake. “I thought you were making cupcakes?” “I still am. I made this one just for you!” “Is this taste-testing for one of your new cupcakes or something?” Pinkie shrugged. “Sorta.” Keen ate a small piece of the cupcake and kept thinking aloud. “What sort of pony knows how to cut open ponies like that, anyway?” Pinkie looked at him with a gleam of pride in her eyes. “Lots of practice! At least, that’s how I get good at things.” He took another bite. He felt as tired as ever, and thought his eyes were fighting against him. “But… Why the Elements of Harmony? Why?” He finished the rest of his cupcake in one bite, savoring the odd but delicious frosting. “It was random, of course! Gummy picks these balloons, see? And when they pop, they have a number in them, and each number is somepony! And I don’t make the rules, it could be anypony!” Pinkie bent over and lifted back up with a piece of paper in her hair. Keen looked at her, first with a bewildered look, but then with a look of horror. “Y-you? You killed them? B-but…” “They were my friends, I know. I’m still sad by that. But I don’t make the rules.” “You were with us when Flutters-!” “The Mirror Pond, but I’m still kind of scared of it since last time…” Keen staggered out of the stool and dropped to his knees. He had no energy left. Pinkie stood over him. “I guess tomorrow, we’ll have a new secret ingredient! And this will be the secretiest ingredient ever! I bet they won’t even be able to detect what I added!” She snorted. “Keeny, it was your number I got today! Let’s have some fun, okay?” Keen saw her smile, then blacked out.
