[This story is dedicated to Charmy]
Gilda's day had gone from bad to worse. As if It wasn't bad enough that she'd made a fool of herself at the party and that Rainbow Dash had turned on her (NOT cool), as she soared away from Ponyville, she found her strength disappearing. Her flight had begun without problem, but as she flew she felt her energy draining at a rate much faster than it should have been. She climbed higher, hoping to catch a draft of warm air to carry her up and over the Everfree Forest, but luck was not on her side, and only a cold chill greeted her. She shuddered, then shuddered again when she realized that it was not the air that had caused the chill. Instead, it seemed to be creeping out from inside her, starting at her stomach and spreading outward, numbing her as it went.
She was already dangerously high for the amount of strength she had left, and she quickly decided that a safe landing in griffon country on the opposite side of the forest was no longer an option. Instead, she aimed for a large clearing and tucked into a dive, hoping she'd reach the ground with enough strength left to avoid a head on collision with the dirt. She shot downwards, weighing the distance to the ground against her remaining stamina.
Suddenly, as though a syringe had been stuck into her back and the plunger pulled up, her remaining strength was sucked away. She had never felt as tired in her life, even with the adrenaline rushing through her in response to the rapidly approaching ground.
Without her wings, the clearing she had aimed for was now a rocky death sentence. Her only hope now was to hit a tree, use the branches to break her fall. With her last bit of strength, she twisted her torso sideways, lifting her folded wing the slightest bit, all that she could manage. The wind caught it, and yanked it painfully back. Her dimming hearing caught a distinctive pop as the bone was wrenched from its socket, accompanied by a flash of pain. The wing trailed uselessly behind her as she plummeted, but... It had shifted her direction just slightly.
A tall tree loomed ahead, but to her dismay, instead of branches, she was headed for the solid trunk of the tree. Moments before impact, she threw out her right arm. It hit the tree full force, snapping at the elbow when it was unable to stop her descent. Her body impacted milliseconds later, and her broken forearm, thrown up to protect her face, was gouged into by her beak. Blood splattered across her face, stinging her eyes, but she had no time to react to either blood or pain as she ricocheted off of the tree and hurtled down through the branches. Twigs scraped at her face and arms as she crashed downward, bouncing off of branches, the rough bark leaving huge scrapes and gashes across her body.
As she neared the ground, she twisted, trying to align herself horizontally. Her fading consciousness made this difficult, until a sharp pain forced her back to full alertness. The base of her wing had caught on a broken branch, which punctured through and ripped a jagged line through flesh, bone and sinew, spraying blood into the air and sending spasms of pain through her back.
She twisted and fell the last twenty feet to the ground, where she collapsed with a sickening crunch. Only her complete lack of strength kept her from writhing in pain on the ground. In addition to the injuries to her wing and arm, several of her ribs had been cracked or broken.
Black clouds were gathering around the edges of her vision, and she lay in a heap of blood and agony. Her senses were blurred, the pain and all other feeling slowly seeping away. All she could hear was a faint ringing. Had her ears been working properly, unaffected by the drug coursing through her, she would have heard a soft clip clop of hoofsteps approaching from behind.
...
Gilda awoke to a throbbing headache and a strong burning sensation in her chest, leg and wing. She was on her back in a darkened room, alone. She didn't know how she arrived there. Had some pony found her, brought her to this place? She definitely wasn't in the Everfree Forest.
A single light hung above her, shining brightly down, causing her head to throb more. The rest of the room was in shadow, and it was impossible to see anything with clarity, from both the darkness and the effects of the drug. She could make out silhouettes though and, from what she could see, the room was very methodically decorated. It appeared to be set up for a party. Twisted streamers hung from the ceiling, and misshapen balloons were tied to the backs of chairs. Gilda could see what she thought to be a table nearby, with a set of vaguely familiar shapes making up the centerpiece, though her blurred brain couldn't identify just what it was.
She shifted slightly, and pain flared up in her wing. She tried to turn, to see the damage to her wing, but found she was unable to turn her head. Something was holding it tightly in place. This concerned her a little, but she reassured herself, telling herself that she probably just injured her neck in her plummet, and that whichever pony had been nice enough to bring her in from the Everfree Forest must have put a brace on her to keep her from moving in her sleep and injuring herself further. Best to keep still for now.
She waited, aware that the pain in her wings was slowly returning. Whatever had numbed her senses earlier was taking a full exit, returning to her both consciousness and pain. She strained her eyes and risked moving her wing. The pain flared up, but she gritted her beak and pushed it further, until she caught it in her peripheral vision. It had been cleaned and sown up, though sloppily, as though whoever had done it didn't care if the stitching held for an extended time.
The sound of descending hoofsteps behind her grabbed her attention. She slowly lowered her wing and tried to sit up, but tight restraints pinned her to the table. She'd been so focused on her wing that she'd neglected to check the rest of her body. Now she realized that leather straps had her pinned down, binding her legs, chest and head. Panic shot through her, spurred by her lack of mobility and the ominous hoofsteps behind her. She tried to pull free, to escape, to gain even an inch of movement in any direction, but besides the flapping of her uninjured wing, she was completely immobile. She felt a scream welling within her, but forced it away. "Stop it," she muttered to herself. "You're to cool for this." She forced herself to slow her breathing.
The hoofsteps continued behind her, and she heard scraping sounds and the clatter of metal, but she forced herself to stay calm, forcing her anxiety away. She was gonna tough this out, whatever it was. The sounds continued. Finally, she heard the sound of wheels rolling towards her, coming to a stop just out of sight on her right side.
"Sorry about that, just getting a few last itty-bitty things ready." Said an all too familiar voice. Gilda's nervousness turned to anger as Pinkie Pie's face appeared over her own. "Now we can have fun!"
"What is this?" Gilda yelled furiously. "Another one of your lame pranks? I need to get to a hospital!" She strained against her bonds, again to no avail.
"Oh, don't worry!" Pinkie grinned. "I patched you up just fine. I've had lots of practice with sewing. Besides, I can't work with someone who's injured. It limits my options."
"What are you talking about, dweeb? Unstrap me RIGHT NOW!" she followed this last command with her most furious griffin roar, but Pinkie Pie merely blinked and smiled. "Oh, I can't do that yet! The party isn't over!"
"Party? What party?" Gilda screeched. "That sad prank party you and Dash threw earlier? It died the moment I left, especially now that Dash is such a lame-o."
"Oh, not that party, silly!" Pinkie seemed unfazed by Gilda's outburst. "That party is still going! I just left a bit early to find you.
"And why on a wing would you do that?" she demanded. "Didn't run out of pranks? Had a few more you had saved up?"
"Nope! Actually I-" Pinkie froze. "Hold on." Before Gilda could respond, she turned and raced up the stairs, only to stop halfway and come hopping back.
"Sorry, forgot one little thing." She informed Gilda cheerfully. Then she reached under the table and pulled out large syringe.
"What are you-" Gilda was cut off by Pinkie jamming the syringe into her good arm and forcing all of the clear liquid inside into her veins. The effect was immediate; The world faded, and she was gone.
...
She awoke again, blinking open her eyes to find Pinkie Pie staring directly at her from a distance of two inches, their foreheads almost touching. Startled, Gilda jumped, causing spasms of pain in her wing and leg.
"Sorry again, but I had to get back, I'm always at all the parties. Couldn't have them looking for me, y'know? And well, it was sooooo much easier to put YOU out than aaaallll of them, it's just easier that way, but now I'm here, and your here, and the party is here, and we can have fun!" She finished, giggling.
"The party is here? They're here? You brought them here? DASH! HELP! DASH!"
Pinkie cut her off. "No silly, not them." Pinkie laughed, her smile growing, stretching beyond Gilda's field of vision. "I brought the PARTY here! See, I originally planned that party to help you change your attitude, but it didn't work cause Dash set up all those pranks, and you were all mad when you left, so I thought to my self, maybe we should just have a you and me party, and we can change your attitude together, just us! We're gonna have soooooooo much fun!"
She turned and bounced out of view. With a clicking sound, the surface Gilda was tied to fell backwards slightly, then began to raise forward accompanied by the sound of gears, rotating her up until she was at about a forty-five degree angle. This new angle allowed Gilda to see what Pinkie had been rolling around earlier: A small metal cart with a grey cloth tossed over the top that sat just inside the pool of light that the lamp above was casting.
The party pony bounced back onto view from behind her, over to the cart, and whipped off the cloth with a flourish. Gilda paled as she saw several wickedly sharp knives lining the top of the cart, next to a worn brown medical bag. Several other sinister tools covered the top of the cart, and though she didn't recognize them, she knew she didn't want any of them near her. A lower shelf held a veritable workbench of spotless tools, and another box sat ominously closed beside them.
With this new development, fear surged into her once again, and she made no attempt to contain it. "What... What are those for?"
"You can't have a party without games." Pinkie chided happily. "Everyone knows that."
Gilda spluttered for a moment, and panic took complete hold. "I... I DON'T WANT TO BE A PART OF YOUR STUPID PARTIES!" She screeched. "NOW UNSTRAP ME THIS INSTANT, OR YOU'LL REGRET IT!"
"Aw, you just need to change your attitude, and then you'll have just as much fun as me. First we need to get a smile on your face. I know just the tool!" Pinkie spun, snatching a scalpel off the cart. "This should do it!" She turned to Gilda, and positioned the scalpel deep in her mouth, against the corner of her beak.
Gilda bit down hard on the flat edges of the scalpel.
"Hey!" Pinkie complained. "You can't do that!" She pushed at the handle, but it wouldn't budge. "All I need's a smile... Smile! SMILE!" She yelled, and with a grunt she gave an extra hard shove on the handle, and the scalpel shot forward, skimmed along the hard edge of the beak before finding its niche in the soft flesh of Gilda's cheek. Gilda gasped in pain.
Pinkie leaned forward and inspected the cut. "Aww, that looks nothing like a smile," she frowned. She held the side of the scalpel up so that Gilda could see the reflection of her handiwork in the gleaming blade. The gash carved a neat line from the edge of her beak horizontally across her face, leaving a gaping hole and a smattering of blood clearly visible on her white feathers. She could see her tongue with her mouth closed. "See? Its all straight, not happy at all!".
Gilda tried to respond, but the side of her face burned, and opening her beak increased the horrible sensation tenfold. Pinkie looked closely at Gilda's beak, upon which the scalpel had left no marks. She shrugged, and turned back to the cart, tossing the scalpel nonchalantly away. It soared in a graceful arc and imbedded itself in the table with a thunk, inches from Gilda's wing. She rummaged through the tools while Gilda tenderly touched the gaping wound with her tongue, testing it. Each prod produced a sensation Gilda thought likened to a scalding hot nail being hammered into her cheek.
"Aha!" Pinkie cried, and when she turned back her smile had reappeared. This should do the trick!" She held up a wrench, which gleamed in the bright light of the lamp overhead. She reached forwards and clamped it firmly onto the side of Gilda's beak. Gilda tried to pull away, but the restraints once against held her head firmly in place. Pinkie wrenched upwards, expecting her beak the bend into half of a brilliant smile, and was surprised when it instead cracked and a large chip snapped off. Gilda cried out again and her legs and wings tensed, causing her previous injuries to flare up in a symphony of pain. Pinkie just sat and considered. "No wonder your such a grump, you can't even smile. Oh well! What's next?" And she turned back to the cart.
"You could... let me go."
"That's all you wanna do, leave!" Pinkie replied exasperatedly. "You're no fun at parties. You're a party pooper, thats what you are. And I went to all this trouble." She bounded away and flicked on the lights.
An eerie glow was cast about the room, and Gilda saw exactly what the pink pony had used for party decor. It made her cringe, calling forth another burst of pain.
The streamers were crafted from preserved intestines and carefully tacked to the ceiling. Stomachs and lungs had been filled with helium and tethered to the backs of chairs, and other organs had been painted bright colors and set about the room. On the wall were carefully arranged and brightly painted skulls of all sizes, including a special row that contained skulls so small they could only have come from foals. When her eyes hit the table, the faintly recognizable shapes became instantly identifiable: the heads of three young ponies, eyes closed as though in sleep. Confetti in the form of bits of bone and flesh littered the floor.
She lay in shock as Pinkie continued, "All this work, and you just wanna fly away and-" She was back in front of Gilda in an instant, standing only inches from her once more. The smile once again spread impossibly wide across her face.
"No... Oh, NO!" Gilda stammered as Pinkies eyes flashed back and forth to opposite sides of her body.
"Call it!" Pinkie cried in delight, and tossed a bit high into the air. It spun rapidly, hung in the air a moment, the plummeted towards the floor. It hit the stone tiles and bounced away, but Pinkie didn't notice, she had pressed her face hard against Gilda's, glaring deep into her eyes.
"When I toss a bit, you call it, heads or hoofs!" She growled. Then she spun away and, smile returning, grabbed the bit from the floor and threw it up a second time. Painfully, Gilda croaked, "Hoofs." The coin hit the stone and bounced once, before landing on its side and spinning rapidly. They waited, tension growing as the coin's momentum slowed, before coming to a complete stop balanced perfectly on its side. Then it began to tip, ever so slightly, in what seemed to Gilda to be slow motion. With a clink it fell flat. Pinkie turned and with unbelievable speed launched her self at Gilda. Her hoof a blur, Gilda had no time to react before Pinkie had wrenched the scalpel from the table and buried the blade deep into the muscle at the base of Gilda's right wing. She screamed in pain as Pinkie twisted the knife back and forth. Then she dragged the knife downward, the razor edge meeting no resistance. It carved downward as Gilda screamed, agony coursing through her back. Suddenly the knife jarred to a halt, having collided with a bone. Pinkie's face grew determined as she raised the knife slightly, then brought it down again, and again, each jerk igniting new excruciating bursts of pain. Frustrated, she abandoned the scalpel once more, jamming it back into the wooden table, before turning and plunging her hoof into her box of tools. She turned back holding a meat tenderizer, spikes turned towards Gilda.
"No!" Gilda cried, but too late, and Pinkie brought the instrument forward with speed. Gilda shrieked as it smashed into her wing, crushing the bone. Again and again she brought the meat tenderizer down, until the base of Gilda's wing was nothing but a gory pulp, with bits of flesh and bone splattered around it. Blood oozed from the mess, dripping down the table. Tossing the mallet aside with a clatter, Pinkie retrieved the scalpel a second time and continued the cut until the blade made its exit through the bottom of the wing. Pinkie let the scalpel drop to the floor, then planted both hooves on the table, one to each side of Gilda's ravaged wing. She leaned forward and grabbed the top of the wing in her mouth, clamping down with her teeth.
"Grrrr!" She growled, then giggled. Suddenly her neck tensed, and she ripped her head to the side, still firmly gripping the mangled mess of blood and feathers. Gilda howled in pain as the upper portion of the wing was torn from her back, dragging with it a large chunk of flesh. Blood poured out, and tears welled in Gilda's eyes.
Gilda was in agony, with searing pain in her wings, chest, face and arm. And yet an anger was building inside her. She wasn't gonna just sit and take it. She was going to tough this out, not give the grinning pony the satisfaction of this cruel torture. Pinkie sat there, hooves still on the table, eyes closed, playfully chewing at the severed appendage. Gilda noticed that her hoof, still on the table, had slid downward, and was resting just above her own.
Pinkie's eyes opened, and she looked concernedly at Gilda. "Awwww, don't cry!" She said, her voice muffled through the bloody feathers. She had noticed the drying tears on Gilda's cheeks. "Don't cry! Parties aren't fun when you're crying. They're no fun at all."
"Let... me... go!" Gilda demanded
"The party's not over yet."
Rage filled Gilda. As fast as she could, she twisted her broken arm in the leather strap and, ignoring the pain, dug her talons deeply into Pinkie's leg with a savage laugh. Pinkie shrieked, dropping the mutilated wing to the ground. She tried to pull away, but Gilda's talons dug deeper. Blood pooled up from Pinkie's arm and made Gilda's talons slippery, but she refused to let go, even with the searing pain screaming in her elbow. Suddenly pinkie dropped to the floor, snatched up the discarded scalpel and drove it straight into the griffon's broken elbow. The pain was too much and her hold on Pinkie's arm slackened. The party pony tore free, crying and clutching her arm.
"Why would you do that?" She wailed. "That wasn't nice at all! That was mean, you mean meanie-pants!" Gilda almost felt sorry for the poor pony, until reality smacked her in the face. This same pony, crying her eyes out, had spent the last twenty three minutes digging into her arms, wings and face with various tools.
Gilda lay there, listing to the pink pony's sobs. She closed her eyes, drinking in this sweet taste of revenge. It wouldn't last, but she could enjoy it while it did, and from what she could estimate from the volume of the pony's wails, that could be a very long time.
The crying stopped abruptly. Gilda's eyes shot open, and took in Pinkie Pie standing once again just inches from her. Miraculously, her grin had returned wider than before.
"What is your problem with personal space?" This new smile had quickly relit Gilda's anger. She wanted nothing more than to break free from this table, grab pinkie, and dig her talons into her neck until the blood filled her throat and she drowned in it. To carry Pinkie high above jagged rocks and drop her from the sky. To tie her up and carve up her face. Gilda's revenge fantasies were cut short when she noticed the shining contraption the pink pony held. It was a long flat piece of metal attached to a handle, with a chain of sharp, jagged metal teeth surrounding the edge. A cord was attached to the side, which Pinkie pulled. The machine made a grumbling sound, and as the metal teeth began circling the flat part the grumble grew into an earsplitting roar. The metal chain became a blur. Pinkie raised the tool above her head.
"No..." Gilda whispered, knowing there was nothing she could do to stop it. Pinkie brought the device down hard on Gilda's forearm. The blurred chain tore into her arm, sawing through and sending bits of flesh, gore, and bone flying into the air. Blood sprayed skyward drawing a brilliant red line up the table. The tool cleaved downwards, separating flesh and bone in an instant. Her forearm fell to the ground with a thud. Pinkie turned, and began the procedure on the other arm. This time, however, she went slowly, gently lowering the saw down so that the teeth could dig in and tear into her skin, muscle and then bone layer by layer. The pain was too much, and Gilda screamed in agony. She yelled every curse and insult she could think of, her voice barely audible over the roar of the saw.
Suddenly, Pinkie stopped and pulled the chainsaw from her arm. Surprised, Gilda stopped the torrent of insults. The pink pony glared at Gilda, then set the chainsaw aside and walked to the cart. She held a small curved blade, pliers and sharp piece of metal. Forcing Gilda's beak open, she jammed the metal shard between her gums, leaving her unable to close her beak.
"Bad language makes for bad feelings. If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all." She stated sourly. Then with a quick precise movement, she grabbed Gilda's tongue with the pliers, painfully pulling it taught, before dragging the curved blade through it, severing it from her mouth. Gilda screamed, then gagged as the warm, sticky red liquid filled her beak and ran into her throat. Pinkie tossed the tongue onto the table, then rotated the pliers to line up with the edge of remaining tongue and clamped them down, stopping the blood flow. Gilda coughed up the rest of the blood that had filled her esophagus, then resumed her yelling at Pinkie. Though her words were now unintelligible, the point was clear. Pinkie turned back to her cart, scowling.
She returned with the closed box. She set it on the table, opened it, and pulled out a small green ball with wings. She rotated it so that the griffon could see the two large blue eyes. Gilda had see one once before: a parasprite.
Before Gilda could react, Pinkie shoved the parasprite deep into her throat. Gilda choked and tried to spit it out, but Pinkie had lodged the parasprite in tight, and each time she coughed, her broken ribs protested, causing more coughing and preventing her from putting any force into it. The parasprite panicked, struggling to escape, pushing against the inside of her throat and crushing against her wind pipe, cutting off her air. Unable to spit it out, Gilda had only one option: She gave a tremendous gulp and felt the terrified creature slip down her throat and into her stomach. She shuddered as the little thing flew around inside her, struggling to escape, wincing as it attacked the inside of her stomach, trying to gnaw a hole through the lining. Pinkie Pie waiting, humming to herself, smile slowly returning. The smile always returned. If she somehow lived through this, Gilda knew she would see it each night, in her nightmares: That smile growing, growing to unrealistic proportions until it engulfed everything.
After about five minutes, the parasprite stopped struggling. Pinkie walked over and pressed her ear against Gilda's abdomen. She listened for a minute, then turned and picked up the chainsaw once more. She pulled the cord and the chain once again roared to life. Gilda closed her eyes, tensed, and was still unprepared as the teeth bit deep into her arm once more. Her scream filled the room with one long, loud, horrid note. Her vision turned red, and then she blacked out.
Gilda awoke to find that she had been tilted onto her back once more. A large adrenaline needle had been stabbed into her chest and left there. She heard a grinding sound to her right, and straining her eyes she could see Pinkie Pie sticking a long handle into her severed arm from the wrist. The grinding sound was coming from the instrument, and bits of bone and blood were flying out of the arm, spattering Pinkie's face in a gory red mask. She pushed the tool deeper in, sending up another spurt of gore. With a click the tool began to slow, the grinding noise ceased. The noise gone, Gilda realized the pink pony was humming happily to herself. The party pony drew the tool out of the severed arm and Gilda saw that it had two sharp blades attached horizontally to the end of it like the blades in a blender.
Setting the tool back onto the cart, Pinkie picked up her other arm, which Gilda could see had been through an identical treatment. She examined them for a moment, then slid them over her own hooves as though they were gloves.
Gilda strained to see her arm. The leather strap had been slid up around her elbow, at the point where the scalpel was still embedded. Beyond that, only a stump was left of her arm, but the phantom pain was all too real. Her other injuries throbbed. She hadn't noticed them when all of her focus had been on the chainsaw, but laying there now, she could feel each injury she had accumulated: Her missing wing, her severed arms. Her chest still hurt too. Her headache had mostly receded. Her tongue, cheek and beak still stung.
Pinkie glanced up and saw that the griffon had regained consciousness. Bounding over, she pulled out the empty needle, tossed it across the room, then looked down at Gilda.
"You're awake again! Now we can get back to work. We need to do something about that other wing!" Pinkie turned back to her cart, scanned through the knives lining the top. She picked out a large, wicked looking curved knife with a serrated edge, and attempted to pick it up using Gilda's talons, but found herself unable to do so. She tried again, to no avail. Frustrated, she tossed the arms aside, grabbing the knife impatiently with her hoof.
She bounded back, and placed the serrated teeth against the top of where Gilda's remaining wing joined with her back. Gilda gritted her beak, knowing there was know way to stop it. The party pony pulled downward on the knife handle and the serrated blade dug deep into the wing with a splash of blood and a stab of pain. She pushed it back, then forward again in a steady sawing motion, back and forth, back and forth, the metal teeth tearing through flesh and muscle, pain bursting with each movement. Gilda grunted as each wave of pain assaulted her, tears coming forth once again, sliding down her cheek, wetting the drying blood and causing it to run downwards. There was a jolt as the knife struck the bone, but this time it only slowed, sawing easily through. The pain was becoming unbearable, and Gilda let out a long wail.
Tears were streaming now, her vision blurry, but Pinkie continued, the knife cutting deeper and deeper. Finally, the knife finished its descent through her wing, and the appendage separated from her body. Through her tear filled eyes, Gilda could barely make out Pinkie taking the two mutilated wings and putting them into a box filled with ice.
"Later," Pinkie informed her, "I'm gonna patch them up. I have the most beautiful dress I'm making, and they'll fit oh so perfectly! I'm sorry you don't have a cutie mark, I could use that too! The dress is gonna be sooooo pretty when it's done, Rarity will be so jealous!"
Gilda was no longer listening. The tremendous amount of blood loss she had sustained was making her light-headed. She had put her best into fighting it, into staying strong, but now her vision was becoming fuzzy.
Pinkie took notice of Gilda's eyes' loss of focus. She waved a hoof in front of them. "Hellllooooooooooooooo? Anybody home?" She knocked on Gilda's forehead. "Are you there?" Gilda's eyes focused on Pinkie's face momentarily, then blurred again. Pinkie smiled, "I know what you need!" Another trip to the cart, a rummage through the medical bag, and Pinkie returned with another adrenaline needle. She held up her other hoof and waved it in front of Gilda's face again. Gilda, tired and disoriented from pain and blood loss, followed the hoof back and forth, and was totally unprepared when Pinkie suddenly reached forward and jammed the adrenaline needle into her left eye. She shrieked, and pulled at her restraints, trying to grab the needle, but was unsuccessful. Pinkie pressed down the plunger and Gilda felt pressure build in her eye at the clear liquid filled her eyeball. Pinkie attempted to gain her attention once more but failed, and so removed the needle.
And followed by stabbing a second, larger needle in her eye. She injected the liquid into Gilda's eye, and the combined pressure of the two doses occupying the space was too much. Gilda's eyeball popped, spraying blood into the air and onto Pinkie's face. At the same time, the adrenaline took effect and Gilda was pulled back into full awareness, just in time to take the full brunt of the pain. Her mind was torn by two conflicting forces, itself trying to shut down and shut out the pain, the adrenaline attempting to coax it into full awareness.
Her own willpower gave the adrenaline a winning advantage. Her remaining eye regained focus on Pinkie, who said happily, "That's better, isn't it?" Gilda just shuddered, silently taking inventory of what was left of her body. Both her arms had been severed, the stumps still strapped loosely to the table. Her wings were also gone, leaving one clean cut along one side of her back and a mangled stump of bloody feathers on the other. The adrenaline needle still stuck in her deflated eyeball, and gore dripped down from that into the giant gash in her cheek, filling her mouth and stinging the stub of her tongue. Her throat still hurt from the frantic struggle of the parasprite that now lay dead and digesting in her stomach. Pain throbbed through her, emanating from her various wounds.
Pinkie picked up a small watch off of the cart. "Wow!" she exclaimed, grinning, and dangled the watch in front of Gilda's face. "One hour and fourteen minutes! You're going for a new record! Of course, you were asleep for a while, but that doesn't matter. Some people just get tired from partying. Though I had a feeling you'd last a while. You lasted longer than most ponies against my knockout drug. Most ponies only last a few minutes, but you got halfway across the Everfree forest!"
"Uuh?" Gilda garbled. "Oou ugge eeh?
"Oh, yes!" Pinkie told her happily. "Remember, after the pepper in the vanilla lemon drops? And then you tried drinking from the dribble glass? Well, I put the drug in the punch you grabbed after that! I was actually expecting it to affect you sooner, but then you left and made it halfway across the Everfree forest! Do you know how hard it was to find you? I must have gotten lost like, a hundred times!"
Gilda wished she had gotten lost in the Everfree forest. She wished that Pinkie had never found her way out, had died a slow, agonizing death of starvation, or was killed by some of the woodland creatures, while she herself bled to death peacefully, unconscious and unaware. She would have died there in the trees, spared from this cruel torture.
"Well, that's it." Pinkie told her suddenly.
"Whua?"
"The party's over."
Hope surged through Gilda. The party was over? She gargled out a question. It was unintelligible, but Pinkie understood the meaning well enough.
"Go home? No, you can't go home. The party's over, but there's still work to do."
"Whua wou a oou aui aaoou?"
"What work? Baking!" Pinkie answered. "I have a new recipe I want to try." She continued in response to the confusion on Gilda's face. "It's a cupcake recipe!"
Gilda didn't know how to respond to this new development. The pink pony's focus had just switched from torture to confectionaries. And how did Pinkie expect her to help in this condition, still strapped to the table?
The party ponies next question interrupted her thoughts, and sent a new chill of horror racing along Gilda's spine.
"I've never tasted griffon before. What do griffons taste like? You're part eagle, and part lion... Do you taste like two things at once? I bet you do!" producing a fork from seemingly nowhere, Pinkie jammed the utensil deep into Gilda's leg. She retrieved the scalpel from the stump of Gilda's arm, and wiped it off, then proceeded to make a square cut around the fork, finishing by wedging the blade underneath the square of flesh and separating it from the rest of Gilda's leg. She popped it into her mouth and chewed. A look of ecstasy spread across her face. "Oh my Celestia, you do! You do taste like two animals at once! Like a... a very ferocious chicken!" She paused to savor the flavor. "You should try some!" she said suddenly, cutting out another square and offering it to Gilda. Gilda's stomach surged, the only thing preventing her throwing up was a blockage at the base of her esophagus, most likely the body of the parasprite. She gagged, and tried to shake her head, tears streaming from her eyes.
"Well okay then," Pinkie said, eating the second bite. "I was just trying to be polite." She tossed the fork behind her and onto the cart. "Ok let's get started. I wanna try something first. It's so hard to do, I wanna see if it's easier when you're still all strapped up." She felt around Gilda's knee for a moment, before jamming the scalpel in at an angle, between the bone and kneecap. She twisted the knife back and forth, cutting the sinew off of the bone. Gilda screamed in agony. Pinkie then made an incision around the top of Gilda's thigh, pulling back flesh to reveal the bone. She then placed one hoof on Gilda's waist, the other just inside Gilda's thigh, and yanked. Gilda screamed as the bone was pulled from the joint with a loud pop. Pinkie twisted Gilda's leg, adjusting the angle. She turned to her cart and grabbed a long, straight blade that was curved along the middle and sharpened on both sides. Lining it up so that the fold of the blade lay neatly against the curve of the bone, she pushed the handle down, separating muscle from the bone. Gilda winced, both from pain and from the horrid scraping sound of the metal on her bone.
The tip of the blade slid along her bone until she felt it scrape against the back of her kneecap. Pinkie withdrew the blade, and attempted to line it up again, but the leather strap that was holding down Gilda's leg was in the way. She twisted Gilda's leg again, again trying to line up the blade with bone, but again found it blocked by the strap. Frustrated, she turned the blade and cut through the strap, so as the get a better angle on Gilda's leg. The moment her leg was free however, Gilda mustered what strength she had left and shot her knee up, catching Pinkie in the jaw. Pinkie stumbled back as Gilda howled in pain as her dislocated thigh bone scraped against the socket and her hip and knee protested with a searing pain. Pinkie regained her balance and grabbed a wickedly sharp stake and a heavy mallet off of the cart. Leaping forward, she lined up the stake and brought the mallet down on top of it, driving it down through Gilda's kneecap. It shattered as the metal stake forced its way through, pinning Gilda's leg to the table.
Pinkie stared silently at Gilda, at the metal stake protruding from her knee, the look of anguish on her face. "Well, this didn't work out at all like I planned. It's a lot harder to do it this way. Oh well, best finish what I started, I always say. If you're gonna do something, do it all. Then you don't have any regrets later." She retrieved the long blade and once more slid it through Gilda's thigh. Gilda cried out again. Three more times Pinkie repeated the process, each meriting another yelp from Gilda. Finally, the muscle was detached from the bone on all sides. Pinkie pulled away the skin around the end of the bone, and taking a firm hold of the end of it, pulled the bone out of Gilda's leg with a wet sucking sound.
"Look at me, I'm a puppy!" she exclaimed, and gnawed on the femur, blood dripping off of the bone and down her cheeks. "Grrrrrr!" Then she tossed the bone aside and turned back to the cart. She rummaged through the medical bag, finally extracting a small needle filled with a blue-tinted clear liquid. She bounded over and stuck the needle into Gilda's back, into her spine, and injected the liquid. Gilda cringed as an icy sensation began spreading downward from that point, then relaxed when she realized that it left a lack of feeling behind it.
Pinkie sat and waited, humming to herself while the drug took effect. After about five minutes, she bounced over to the cart and selected a clean scalpel, then returned to the table. Without warning, the pink pony jumped onto the table and sat down, straddling Gilda's legs. Without ceremony she made two quick incisions, one across Gilda's pelvis, the other just beneath her rib cage. A third incision, a third line connecting the first two, a bloody capital "I". Pinkie peeled back the two flaps of skin, exposing Gilda's inner organs through her abdominal sac. A fourth incision removed this final barrier.
Pinkie plunged her hooves deep into Gilda, letting them soak in the blood and fluids. She felt around in the organs, finally selecting Gilda's liver and pulling it free. She stared at it for a moment, then licked it, nodding in approval as she placed it on the bottom shelf of the cart. She turned back, and picked out another organ, removing it in the same manner.
Blood poured from Gilda's abdomen, and she recognized the familiar black clouds forming at the edges of her vision. It wouldn't be long now.
Pinkie selected Gilda's small intestine next, taking one end and pulling, letting it slowly unfold from Gilda's belly. When it reached the end, she continued with the large intestine until she had the whole thing neatly wound and placed on the cart. Her next target was Gilda's stomach, which she scooped out and held up in front of Gilda's eye.
"Aaaw, look!" She cooed. "It's the parasprite!"
Gilda didn't respond. The black clouds had increased, slowly enveloping her vision. Sounds were fading, and what pain still remained in her upper body was slowly numbing away. The world was taking its leave, and Gilda wasn't about to delay its departure. Pinkie, however, was. She grabbed yet another adrenaline needle and, reaching through Gilda's organs, injected it directly into her heart.
Gilda's eyes shot open once more as the adrenaline shot in and then overloaded her heart. Her body jerked, and then the black clouds returned, her vision obscured. Pinkies voice drifted away as the black clouds turned white, brightening until she could only see a brilliant haze.
"You can't go yet! We've still got your kidneys, lungs, heart..." Pinkie's voice, along with the rest of existence, disappeared entirely. Gilda's heart stopped, and her body relaxed. Her eyes flickered shut. She was dead.
...
Pinkie stared in dismay at the limp body before her. She scowled, then glanced at the watch. One hour and forty seven minutes! Pinkie squealed with glee, dangling the watch over Gilda's face. "Look! Look at this!" she forced Gilda's eye open. "An hour and forty seven minutes! You broke the record!" She stood expectantly, as though awaiting a response she knew would never come.
She sighed and dropped the watch to the floor. "They're always so boring when they're dead."
She returned to work, digging the organs out of Gilda's abdomen, then reaching up into her chest cavity to remove her heart, lungs and esophagus. When she had emptied out Gilda's chest, she got to work on the rest of the body.
Over the next three hours, the room was filled with a heavy silence, broken only by the steady drip, drip, drip as the remaining fluids were drained from the lifeless griffon. Pinkie sat beneath the lone lamp, quietly cutting strips of flesh from bone, organizing them into neat stacks. She put her knife aside, wiped off her hooves and read over her recipe again, double checking that every step had been followed.
She couldn't have anything less than perfection. Not after she'd promised Rainbow Dash that she'd bake the perfect cupcakes for her birthday party tomorrow.