The front door of the bakery slowly creaked open as a young orange colt winced from the stench of rotting confections. Pushing the door all the way open, he leaped back to behold what had become of Sugar Cube Corner. His eyes wandered from the spoiled cupcakes that laid on the floor, to the marks within the counter, and then towards the stuffed toys scattered about near the stairs leading up.
“Well, this isn’t exactly what I imagined for a quest...” the colt muttered as he propped his weapon against the front door. “I suppose everypony starts small, but...” He squished one of the cupcakes with a hoof, gagging as he lifted the hoof back up to inspect it. “I can’t imagine any heroics to do here. Cupcakes don’t make for very mighty foes, now do they? Still, she said there would be a reward... better get on with this then.”
The wooden stairs creaked and squeaked underneath the colt’s every step as he made his way upstairs to the second floor hallway, stepping over smashed flower pots and plastic foal toys. Many of the doors were barricaded shut with wooden planks; only two doors could be opened. “Hrm... I could probably break these down... but that’s not what I’m after.” He checked the first room, finding two cribs surrounded by neatly organized piles of toys and baby care items. Stepping in briefly to topple a pyramid of canned baby food, he looked back towards the other accessible door. A sign in the shape of a cupcake, also covered with random scribblings of an assortment of crayons, read ‘Pinkie Pie’s Room.’ He re-examined the sign to confirm his quarry, giving himself a re-assuring nod. “Alright, let’s do this. Oh wait... hrm...” A grin spread on the colt’s face as he returned back downstairs to bring up the sledgehammer he called his weapon.
With a single swing of the hammer, the door flew from its hinges into the room. “Bam! Oh man, I imagine what that would do to somepony!” He took a moment to celebrate his feat, returning to his mission only after satisfying the roaring crowd in his imagination.
The wall’s original color was lost underneath a phrase repeated over and over within the room. With a palette of rainbow, the mare must of written this over and over with whatever crayons she had left, even overlapping her older scribbles to repeat this; ‘Not Alone.’ Everything else was also in disarray; the pillows from the bed were ripped to shreds, exposing their feathery stuffing, the windows were shattered, its remnants resting outside of the room, and the various instruments the mare probably played rested in a corner, covered with a layer of dust.
Of course, none of that mattered to this earth pony. His objective laid on the bed, unscathed from the surrounding turmoil. “Hrm... that’s probably it. It looks like one anyway...” He poked it once, pressing a green button and recoiled at the rush of noises coming from the small object. “Yep. A voice recorder. How do you get this thing to shut up?”
He fumbled with the recorder within his hooves, eventually giving up when the first recording sounded off.