Pinkie Pie

Pinkie Pie keeps her steps brisk, and her eyes try to stay focused in its search for the address in the selected job request, but they have developed a mind of their own. She sees the many faces looking at her, secretly condemning her. The dirty pedestrians pretend to be going about their day with their reading, feeding pigeons, playing chess or music or just walking. But she knows. She sees their eyes on her. Watching her. Watching every move, every step, every breath. They think they are being smart but she sees through their deception.

Suddenly a flash of purple light appears in front of Pinkie Pie and she digs her hoofs into the muddy cobblestone, grinding her teeth as her hoofs scrape against the stone. When she is in a full stop her hoofs are throbbing and she feels little cracks on them, and Twilight's up close face and the crowd her appearance created does not make things much better.

“Pinkie, can you stop!” says Twilight.

“I am stopped,” says Pinkie Pie innocently. She inspects her hoof and frowns at the chips and cracks that have appeared, but just as quickly as she looks, she lowers her hoof and looks at Twilight with an uneasy smile. “How are you doing?”

“I have been chasing you for the past five minutes.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Pinkie, don't play dumb. You have a lot of explaining to do about why you acted strange around the music.”

Pinkie Pie gasps from shock. “Strange? How cruel of you to-”

“Pinkie, stop. You aren't Rarity. You are you, so spill the beans. What's wrong with you?”

Pinkie Pie's charade collapses in shards of disappointment. “Oh... How about we talk later? Perhaps over some grapes and a romantic balcony?”

“No.”

“Ice cream at the lake?”

“No.”

“Bean chili at the Sailor Scout Eatery?”

“Pinkie. I'm being serious.”

Pinkie Pie sighs and dips her head. “Fine, we'll talk. But can we talk after we go to Mr. Driver?”

Twilight stares hard at Pinkie Pie, like a hunter trying to judge where their prey is moving to next, and Pinkie Pie forces a great, friendly, in no way uncomfortable smile. Finally, after some seconds of staring between the two, and the staring of the gathered crow, Twilight relents.

“Fine,” says Twilight. “But I want the whole truth, got it?”

“How about half a truth and some deception?” asks Pinkie Pie.

“Pinkie...”

“All right, all right, full truth it is, geeze.”

Twilight turns and trots down the street, talking over her shoulder. “Good. I wouldn't want to bring Applejack into this.”

Pinkie Pie follows after her. “Oh, ha. Ha. Like you would bring Applejack over something trivial and completely unimportant like this. You don't even like her!”

Twilight gapes at Pinkie Pie, who is now next to her.

“I never said I didn't like her,” says Twilight defensively. “I just think her views are a bit... backwards.”

Pinkie Pie spins on her hoofs so she is walking backwards, and she grins devilishly at Twilight. “Its a backwards world, Twilight. Learn it. Live it. Love it.”

Twilight rolls her eyes and Pinkie Pie spins on her front hoof until she is facing the right direction and keeps walking, pretending not to notice a familiar unicorn gray stallion with a gray coat and a messy black mane watching her from behind a newspaper.

~~~~~~~~~~

DING! DING! DING!

“Hello!” hollers Pinkie Pie, her hoof above a golden bell and her body leaning over the polished marble counter of Phillip Construction Company.

DING! DING! DING!

“Hellllloooooo!?” yells Pinkie Pie.

Twilight's magic jerks Pinkie Pie's tail, pulling her away from the counter, and the consultant jumps back up and glares at her companion as she tucks her puffy tail underneath her.

“That hurt,” snarls Pinkie Pie quietly, though, with how spacious and empty the tiled lobby is, anyone could have heard her. However, Twilight says nothing and casually looks around the lobby.

There is nothing spectacular. A pair of couches are in the corner, a small table has a stack of newspapers, and on the wall are framed pictures of successful developments. One of which includes a remodel of the police station and the city center.

DING! DING! DING!

“HellLLOOOOOOHHHHAAAAARRRRGHHHH!” shrieks Pinkie Pie.

Twilight whirls around, fire sprouting from her eyes and mane.

“PINKIE, WHAT THE HECK!” screams Twilight.

Pinkie Pie becomes stone stiff, her ears drooped, her eyes wide and reflecting Twilight's inferno, and her knees bending to drop her body.

“I'm just waiting for customer service,” says Pinkie Pie meekly.

Twilight shoots a beam of fire at the bell that turns it into a molten puddle, and she takes a deep, long breath, and slowly exhales, bringing her flames to die down.

“Then stop with the bell,” says Twilight firmly.

“Uh...” Pinkie Pie's eyes stiffly move to look at the liquid remains and the rising smoke coming from the cracking counter top. “Sure. I can do that.”

“Good evening!” says a cheerful mare with a bright smile and a mane tied in a bun, hurrying from the back. “I'm sorry I was oh my gosh what happened to my bell!”

“Twilight did it!”

~~~~~~~~~~

After a very explosive -and apologetic- encounter with the secretary, Pinkie Pie and Twilight find themselves sitting in uncomfortable wooden chairs that push up into their hipbones and leave their rumps sore. Sitting across from them in a large, fluffy chair that curves to the pony form, is a white earth pony stallion with a blonde mane combed to the side, gold eyes, and a blueprint cutie mark. His office walls are completely covered by books, model buildings and wooden yo-yos in display cases. Pinkie Pie has actually never felt so much claustrophobia in her life, and briefly wonders what she would find if she could use a spell to see inside his brain.

Curiosity aside, she puts on her best smile, all while Twilight keeps up her prim and proper and stealthy recovery any person of dignity would after a severe tongue lashing.

“I am going to pretend that you two did not melt my secretary's bell,” says the stallion, Phillip Driver.

“That's nice of you,” says Pinkie Pie. “Isn't he nice, Twilight?”

“Very,” says Twilight.

“Down to business. You answered the letter, so how much do you want?”

Pinkie Pie looks at Twilight.

“Rent?” she asks.

“One hundred,” replies Twilight.

Pinkie Pie grins at Phillip. “Twelve hundred. Take it or leave it.”

“Done.”

Pinkie Pie jolts in her seat, and Phillip arches a brow.

“Is something wrong, Ms. Pie?” asks Phillip.

“That was way too easy. What's your angle?” says Pinkie Pie.

“My angle is getting Phillipa back. I am willing to pay any price to see her again.”

“So if I raise it to fourteen hundred...?”

“Let me put it to you this way. I will sacrifice every bit I have and do very illegal things to see her again.”

“Oh... Well, good for you. Let's keep it at twelve hundred since you're a great guy.”

Phillip clears his throat and leans forward, folding his front hoofs on his desk. “Listen, I will be honest. I fear something terrible has happened to Phillipa. I believe she was taken by somepony of nefarious nature.”

“Why do you think that?” asks Twilight.

“Because one does not go to the Happy Days Asylum and just vanish. The cells are solid, residents there are of ill character and the staff are just as cruel. Every time I was there she was always telling me how cruel they were to her. She was always miserable and tried to hang herself on more than one occasion. But one day, I visited her and she was smiling. Do you know why?”

Pinkie Pie and Twilight shake their heads.

“She said: The Happy Man made her smile,” says Phillip. “You go to that place and nopony is happy. Not even sadists are happy there. So, I asked her who the Happy Man was, and she could never tell me more other than he came at night, loved to draw with her and build houses out of those building logs. These are things he brought, mind you, and he was always smiling. Always.”

A shiver runs up Pinkie Pie's spine and Twilight furrows her brows.

“Week after week, there was always something about the Happy Man and she became fascinated with him. Whoever he is, I am sure he took Phillipa, and not for a good reason,” says Phillip.

“What do you think this Happy Man would want with her?” asks Twilight carefully.

Phillip shrugs. “I don't know. Phillipa is brilliant, but cannot function without assistance, but she never hallucinated! That is how I know that this pony was no trick of her mind.”

“Do you have the pictures she drew?” asks Pinkie Pie.

“The police confiscated them.”

"So, no chance of seeing them, then?"

“What did Phillipa do before she was placed in the ward?” asks Twilight.

“What do you mean?” asks Phillip.

Pinkie Pie and Twilight exchange looks, then they look at Phillip Driver, their unimpressed frowns mirroring each other.

“I mean, what did she do before she was placed in the ward?” repeats Twilight.

“Nothing,” says Phillip Driver.

“Nothing like she did not do anything wrong, or nothing like unemployed?” asks Pinkie Pie.

“Both. It was her parents that wanted her in that Asylum when they figured out her state, but they never paid her any mind after she was condemned to it. All they did was pay the bills to keep her in there. But if you could see what she was gifted with then you would know that she could have had a bright future if not for them.”

Phillip Driver pulls out a file from his desk and slides it to the two mares. Pinkie Pie is the first to take the file and she flips it open, finding blueprints to various buildings. From small houses to large towers, and stores to forts, and even one place labeled as “Mall”.

“Phillipa may not have been right in the head, but she could build and rebuild,” says Phillip.

Pinkie Pie nods, but keeps her eyes on the blueprints, taking in every measurement, every line, and every note, all while Twilight kept her eyes and ears on their client.

“If you broke something and she could fix it fast,” says Phillip. “Give her a picture of what you want and she would have it done and sturdy. The Rich Building, the Police Station and the Town Center are actually based on her blueprints, but she insisted that I take credit.”

Pinkie Pie looks up from the blueprints, her ears perked in interest.

“Would you mind if I kept these?” asks Pinkie Pie.

“I'm afraid not. Those are sensitive,” says Phillip.

“But you let me look at them.”

“Just to give you an idea of what she could do.” He holds out his hoof. “You may get tours of the buildings whenever you like, but you cannot have an extensive look at the actual prints. It is bad enough that I showed you them in the first place.”

“Right~ Bad. Wink.”

Phillip stares at Pinkie Pie, and she smiles back with an innocent glow as she slides the blueprints back to him, and he looks at Twilight, who just nods.

“She's just being Pinkie, but anything you can give her will help,” says Twilight.

Phillip hesitates and closes the folder. “I suppose the best place to start would be the Moaning Mantel Manor.”

Spike stares at the door in front of him. It is old, its paint is peeling and its numbers have become discolored, but it matches the address. But what fuels the growing dread is not the condition of the door, but what is on it, for there is a message crudely scratched on the door that reads: Knock and Ye Shall Enter, with a trio of balloons underneath.

With a deep breath, he grips the handle and finds that the door is unlocked, so he gently pushes the door open and peeks inside.

“Hello?” says Spike.

Nothing.

He opens the door the rest of the way and steps inside, but upon entering there is a snap, and then a piece of wood and pair of pink hoofs drop in front of him, causing Spike to scream and leap back with a wire snapping off and bringing a cheerful jingle to the room. Spike's heart races and a slowly spinning corpse of an all pink mare reflect off of his wide eyes. Her hoofs move like a broken compass: East, South, East, North, West, North, West, South. And on and on she spins. The chain she is connected to squeaks with her slow movements, and when her chest comes in full view Spike gags at the sight of a charred and peeling skin with thin red lines making a triangle of three infinities connected by orbs.

Spike swallows his bile and he quickly grabs a chair and places it next to the mare. Then he takes a deep breath and breathes a thin stream of fire through his lips, which he has pressed into an O. Sparks fly and bounce off of him and the corpse, and when the chain snaps she falls to the floor in a bundle, which coincidentally leads to the music to stop.

“Do not fret, my dear,” says a stallion through a speaker.

Spike looks towards the voice and sees a phonograph at the far end of the room, its trumpet like speaker aimed towards him.

“She wanted this,” continues the stallion. “Her existence was miserable. Nopony loved her. Nopony cared for her. She was locked away and abandoned in a prison without purpose. I gave her a purpose and she gladly accepted her fate.”

“Moaning Mantel Manor?” asks Pinkie Pie.

Phillip sighs and looks down, his shoulders sagging.

“It is an abandoned house that Phillipa loved to visit when she was young. But when I checked there was nothing and nopony there,” says Phillip.

“Maybe you missed something,” says Twilight.

“Which is why I hired you two. The police are, quite frankly, mentally challenged, but surely you two can find her.”

Spike notices some ink blots on the gag, so he yanks the bundle of cloth out of her mouth and after a quick search he puts the cloth in paper bag for Royal Pin Clothing.

“The funny thing about purpose is that we all desire it, but most are afraid to have it,” says the stallion. “We have been blinded by what our cutie marks say and are terrified to be more than what society places us to be. I think that is why I admire you.”

“We're going to need the location of the cabin,” says Twilight.

“And we're also going to need to see her cell,” says Pinkie Pie.

Phillip nods. “Of course. I can arrange that for you. As for the cabin. It is on the east side of Horseshoe Lake, about a hundred yards from the lighthouse and covered by thorn trees.” He digs into his drawer and pulls out a bag of bits. “I will pay you a portion here and the rest when you find her. Do hurry. I fear her life is in danger.”

Spike hurries over to the vinyl record and takes off his jacket.

“You control your fate as do I,” says the stallion, “and when the truth is forced out all fear will disappear in a great light. The shackles of the barons and the false gods will shatter and the full potential of every individual will be realized. Our fate will be in our hoofs. We will be free of gods and kings.”

Spike turns off the phonograph, carefully removes the disc, and then wraps it up in his jacket and rushes out the door.

The door shuts behind Twilight and Pinkie Pie, and while the eccentric consultant weighs the bag on her hoof, her kind-of-sort-of best friend checks the time by levitating a pocket watch.

“Well, I think now we got some time to discuss your-”

Twilight turns to see that she is in an empty hallway with the nearest window wide open. With a deep frown she looks out the window and sees no sign of her companion, thus resulting in a heavy sigh.

“Of course you ran away.”

Twilight trots down the hall, her charging horn covering her in a sparkling hue.

“You always run away.”

And in a flash of light, she, too, disappears.