Pie of Madness

by Matthew Penn

Rating: teen
Tags: Thriller, Pinkie Pie, Mare Do Well, Alternate Universe, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark
Length: 12161

Mare Do Well, the masked avenger of Maretropolis, races against the clock against her arch-nemesis Pinkamena as she unleashes her most diabolical act yet.

Pinkamena, "the Jester of Crime" and arch-nemesis of the Mysterious Mare Do Well, has escaped from prison and is on the loose in Maretropolis. Mare Do Well races against the clock to stop Pinkamena as she unleashes her most diabolical act the world has ever seen.

Based on Batman: The Killing Joke by Alan Moore

Published 2017-05-19 22:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2017-05-31 00:00:17 UTC

Pie of Madness

There were these two ponies in a lunatic asylum...

It was raining as the evening began. Mare Do Well, masked avenger and hero to the city of Maretropolis, was off to the Maretropolis Asylum for Troubled Individuals. How fitting that it was raining, Mare Do Well thought. The prison was a forty-five minute drive, and it laid at the outer limits of the city of Maretropolis. She has taken the road many times over the years. She was on her way to see the one and only Pinkamena.

Pinkamena is one of Equestria’s most notorious criminals and occasional prankster, although her pranks and jokes weren’t very funny. Wherever she goes she leaves a path of chaos and destruction. Her most recognizable features is her large pink curly hair and a wide grin devoid of genuine happiness which can strike deep into the soul of anypony. There were times when she called herself an “Agent of Discord,” a self-described anarchist whose only purpose is to see that there is a world without order.

Mare Do Well has put her away many times over the years; Pinkamena was one of the first members of her rogues gallery after beginning her investigative career exposing corrupt business ponies and authority figures and small-time offenders. Pinkamena had the habit of breaking out of jail every other week to cause trouble, then Mare Do Well will always capture her and foil her schemes. The public became fascinated by their game of hide and seek, cat and mouse; Mare Do Well always came out as the winner.

The rain carried on. The Maremobile arrived at its destination - the Maretroplis Asylum, or as most the citizens of the city called it, the Crazy House on the Hill, due to the number of insane inmates. As she stepped out of the Maremobile, Mare Do Well opened a large umbrella that protected her from the rain, and she walked on the cold, wet ground. As if on cue, a large iron gate opened, and the trail behind the gate led her into a building with black windows that stretched out into darkness like a white wall. Commissioner Greyhoof followed her inside, relieved that he didn’t have to wait outside in the cold rain, wiping his brown mustache dry. They hurried on their way, not even stopping to speak to the secretary like Mare Do Well sometimes did during her visits. They walked through an endless maze of doors and dimly-lit halls, every few moments making a turn. Mare Do Well passed a cell which belonged to Trixie, another one of her rogues. Trixie was a unicorn like her, and who boasted that she was the greatest magician in Equestria. However, she used her talents to rob banks, steal from museums, and make very important ponies disappear. As with Pinkamena, Mare Do Well had to play tag with her every so often. What a waste of potential, Mare Do Well thought as she walked pass Trixie.

Finally, at a dark corridor, where it seem no light was present, was the cell that belonged to Pinkamena. It was decided that she must be kept in isolation for the protection of the other inmates. During her time in the asylum she pulled deadly pranks on the poor ponies who dared cross her. Her last victim was put in the hospital after making an insulting remark. He had a cinderblock to face that was hidden in custard pie. Needless to say, most of the guards found it funny at the time.

A guard opened the cell and let Mare Do Well inside. There was almost no light, except that from a weak light bulb that blinked, and still Pinkamena remained in the shadows. Pinkamena was sitting at a table stacking playing cards. Silently. That’s odd, Mare Do Well said to herself. Usually Pinkamena would give some ironic greeting whenever they meet. Mare Do Well elected to stay cautious.

The commissioner stayed outside with the guard. Being the partner of Mare Do Well, he faced many of the rogues gallery with her. However, none of them frightened him more than Pinkamena. Trixie, the Flim Flam Brothers, Snowdrop, the Clock King; they were all a breeze compared to Pinkamena.

Mare Do Well sat at the opposite end of the table, facing her arch rival. The blanket of darkness that surrounded Pinkamena’s cell, along with the dim light, obscured her face. Mare Do Well knew that somehow she was sneering at her. Her ghastly smile was sometimes the last image her victims see.

“Hello. I came to talk,” said Mare Do Well

Pinkamena was silent. There wasn’t even a chuckle.

“I’ve been thinking lately about you and me, about what’s going to happen to us if we keep this up. There isn’t a happy ending for either of us, is there? Perhaps you’ll finally end up in Tartarus, perhaps I’ll finally get that boot to the head; perhaps sooner, perhaps later. I just wanted you to know that…” Mare Do Well trailed off, then paused, the thought of their own mortality came to her. “... I wanted you to know that I made a genuine attempt to talk things over to prevent that outcome.”

Mare Do Well gave an earnest look to Pinkamena, then waited for an answer. The pink pony remained quiet, and continued to stack her cards. The detective grew frustrated. Does this pony even care about her own life? Does she want to die? Mare Do Well slammed her hooves on the table and leaned forward.

“Are you listening to me?” she snapped. “This a matter of life or death! Maybe my death, maybe yours! This game of cat and mouse we’ve been playing is fatal and you know it!”

Pinkamena refused to answer, so Mare Do Well grabbed her arm for drastic measures. But there was something wrong. Pinkamena tried to get her arm back, as though she were scared. Mare Do Well tried to keep a firm grip, but Pinkamena’s arm slipped from her. Mare Do Well desperately thought of something else to say or do until she looked at her hoof.

It was covered in pink powder.

She looked confusingly at Pinkamena. She was concealing part of her arm. Then Mare Do Well sent a piercing glare at the pony in front of her. She pulled the pony by the collar of her shirt and wiped her face.

“Hey, what are you doing?” the pony shouted. “You’re not allowed to touch me! I have my rights!”

It was just as Mare Do Well suspected. No wonder why she didn’t speak all that time. It wasn’t Pinkamena, but an imposter. Mare Do Well glared at the fearful peach-faced pony, tightening her grip.

“Where is she?” roared Mare Do Well. “Do you realize what you’ve done? What you’ve set free? What she’s capable of? You just unleashed a monster!”

Commissioner Greyhoof and heard the altercation from outside the cell. Greyhoof ordered the guard to unlock the bars and immediately rushed inside with the young dragon following.

“Alright, that’s enough!” said Greyhoof. “You know the rules about harming inmates as well as I do!”

Mare Do Well shoved the pony’s pink wig into the commissioner’s hooves. “Greyhoof, if you care so much, then you take care of it!” she said bitterly. Mare Do Well returned her attention to the whimpering imposter. “Now you listen very carefully you pathetic piece of slime! I’m going to ask you this one last time and you better have an answer… where is Pinkamena?”

Adventureland was an old abandoned amusement park that recently had a buyer. Bruwhick, an older pony who used to work for the park, waited in the dark for the purchaser to return. The buyer in question was inspecting things. The pony was gone for nearly an hour after having a discussion about the park. Bruwhick paced around slowly, muttering to himself how cold it was tonight. While he waited he couldn’t help but notice something odd about the buyer. The pony - a mare obviously, dressed mysteriously; a long black coat with a hat, almost as though she were an incarnation of Mr. Scratch. Maybe she’s just eccentric, he thought to himself. The heavy rain stopped, but turned into a lite, cold rain, making him hold onto his coat for protection.

“Yoo-hoo!” someone said, getting Bruwhick’s attention. He was relieved when the buyer returned. The pony approached him like a black phantom due to her clothes. The buyer of the old park was Pinkamena.

“Oh, there you are,” said Bruwhick. “So did you get a chance to inspect everything? Is it to your liking?”

Pinkamena cleared her throat. “Well… it’s ugly, that’s for sure. The rides are dilapidated and prone to accidents, and capable of maiming an innocent filly. Hobos have used the grounds as a toilet and the air smells of manure and cat piss, and I can definitely smell the cat piss, surprisingly.”

“Oh… so you don’t like it?” asked Bruwhick.

Pinkamena grinned at him.

“Don’t like it? I’m absolutely crazy for it!”

Bruwhick put a hoof on his chest to check his heartbeat. He couldn’t believe what this pony had said. For the first time in long years somepony was interested in reviving the old park.

“Wow, you mean it? You really like it? And the price, it isn’t too steep?”

“Too steep? I’m making a fortune off of this! And besides, money isn’t really a problem these days.”

Pinkamena watched Bruwhick sit himself on a miniature rocket ship, moving himself up and down and sideways to see if it still works. There was a little sinister smile on Pinkamena’s face.

“You know, I’m positive you won’t regret this purchase. I’m sure most of stuff here is just in need of a good fixer-upper and an old-fashioned spit shine. Thanks to you the park will be back in business soon.”

“And thanks to your skills as a salespony and your smooth tongue you’ve completely sold me on the place,” added Pinkamena. She placed a hoof on his back and extended the other to him. “Let’s shake on it.”

Pinkamena and Bruwhick shook hooves. A few moments later, the smile on the old stallion’s face faded. Pinkamena continued to smile, knowing exactly what was happening to him. She pricked his hoof with a small poison needle. In a matter of seconds his nervous system will shut down, his heart will cease circulating blood, and his respiratory system will fail. There was a look of pain in his eyes as he wriggled on the ground helplessly.

“Just so you know, I won’t be paying you one single bit,” said Pinkamena. “My friends already convinced your partner to sign the documents which will give me sole ownership of the park. I was just humoring you the whole time. Very funny, huh? I don’t know, I’m just talking since you’re down there writhing in pain and all. Don’t worry, it won’t last long. This has been a really nice evening, don’t you think?”

A moment later Bruwhick stopped moving. He was on his back with his pale, mustached face sideways, eyes staring at the darkness. Pinkamena bowed to the corpse and fixed her hat. “And now to secure my main attraction,” she said.

A young filly, golden hair with porcelain skin, rubbed her black eye. She got it from school, unfortunately. There were other marks and scars on her face, but her eye was the only thing that gave her pain. The sky was immensely grey, it stopped pouring earlier that day, but now it drizzled. Little cracks of thunders were nearby.

Lemon Pie had her head down all the way from school until she arrived at her apartment complex. She saw the usual crew of hoodlums and troublemakers at the front entrance. They always disregarded her whenever her presence was known, only continuing to stand around and stare at the street or at each other. Lemon climbed the stairway, the sound of her hooves on the metal steps and concrete floor bounced off the walls. Only a few levels up she can hear the noises of mostly all of her neighbors. Ponies yelled, dogs barked, cats hissed and screeched. The pain in her black eye was giving her a headache. Finally she arrived at her apartment door, behind it was the only pony she cared about more than anyone else.

“Mommy,” Lemon said, coming through the door.

Her mother was washing dishes. The voice of her young daughter triggered her. She turned around, shocked to see sweet Lemon Pie bruised face. The filly rushed to embrace her, cried softly, then sobbed.

“What happened to you?” Cloudy Quartz asked.

“Those mean kids at school throw rocks at me!” she cried.

Cloudy sat her crying daughter on a chair, rushed into the bathroom and back into the kitchen with ointment and bandages. She dapped tissues on Lemon’s face to clean the scars. Lemon, while her mother was tending to her facial scars, told her all about those nasty children at school. She tried to tell jokes. She wanted to make everyone laugh, to like and accept her. When school ended Lemon was ambushed by some of the girls. They beat her with sticks. The black eye was from a flying rock to the face. “I don’t want to go to school anymore!” Lemon yelled.

“You can’t do that, Lemon. School is very important,” said Cloudy. “But I will talk to the school about this. Those girls shouldn’t get away with that.”

Lemon knew going to the adults at school was useless. They were as helpful as a tick or a splinter. Even if she identified the girls and they’re punished, more kids will be after her. It was vicious cycle Lemon was trapped in. It also wasn’t the first time she had a rock to the face. The children really loved pelting her with those.

“I hate school and everyone there,” she muttered.

“Don’t say things like that, Lemon. It’s wrong to hate.”

“But I do! I hate everyone, and I wish the school was on fire with everyone inside!”

Cloudy didn’t know what to say. She never heard anything like that from her daughter so young. It wasn’t right for a filly like her to be filled with so much hatred. She wiped Lemon’s face with the ointment until the black eye was mostly gone. The pain was still there, it hurt to touch it. Cloudy and Lemon stared at each other, like how the hoodlums outside their building do.

“You don’t have to go to school tomorrow,” Cloudy said. “But I’m still going to talk to the grown-ups about this. This shouldn’t have happened, not to my daughter and not anyone else.”

“What’s the point? They never listen to me! The teachers think I’m annoying!”

“Can I tell you something?” said Cloudy. “I didn’t have any friends when I was your age either. I was bullied a lot, too. Everyday after school I cried to my mother about anything bad that happened. Here’s something my mother told me to remember when I had bad days - Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.”
“What does even mean?” asked Lemon. She was frustrated.

“It means what it says. To be honest, I didn’t feel a whole lot better when I first heard it, but I always tried to remember those words for my mother’s sake.”

“Can I still stay home from school tomorrow?” asked Lemon.

“Of course you can.”

Cloudy tenderly kissed her daughter on her white cheek, then to the refrigerator to make a snack for both of them. Lemon thought about the words her mother said. What things in her life could she possibly change, and why does she need to accept what couldn’t, she wondered. It didn’t seem right to her.

It was official - nopony saw Pinkamena leave the asylum, not even the guards. The only prime suspect was the Pinkamena imposter, and even she didn’t know much. Mare Do Well and Greyhoof interrogated everyone, from the guards to the inmates, even the imposter, and the only information they received was the imposter was some kind of a “pet” for Pinkamena. They were never cellmates, but for the performance to work Pinkamena had a spare key made for the imposter so she can enter when nopony was looking. The peach-faced pony also said that Pinkamena didn’t reveal how she will escape, and if the imposter was ever caught there was nothing she can do. Pinkamena said it to her with a smile like always. The cell was searched by Mare Do Well. Despite looking through a magnifying glass, she learned Pinkamena didn’t leave any hoofprints. Clever girl, thought Mare Do Well. She gazed around the room, noticing there was a poster on the wall of a sad, teary-eyed clown. Greyhoof looked in the same direction.

“What do you make of that?” she asked.

“I had no idea Pinkamena was a fan of opera,” Greyhoof answered.

“Pagliacci, no less. I’m not too surprised,” said Mare Do Well.

“I’ve seen that quite sometime ago,” he said. “Hard to imagine someone like Pinkamena is an admirer of the fine arts, don’t you think?”

They stared at the poster for a long time. Mare Do Well tilted her head, for some reason finding that something was off about the whole thing. She moved closer, ran her eyes up and down. Greyhoof watched closely. Mare Do Well laid her hoof on it, found a soft spot. Her eyes shot wide open. She used her magic to tear the poster from the wall, and all was revealed. Mare Do Well called for Greyhoof. Just as she had suspected. Pinkamena was digging a hole on the wall, and the whole stretched to the blackness.

“Well, we now know how she escaped,” said Greyhoof.

“She was probably digging this hole for a long time, maybe when she first arrived,” said Mare Do Well.

“Right under our noses,” added Greyhoof.

“The question remains… what is she planning to do?” said Mare Do Well.

Greyhoof exited the cell to inform the guards, and to tell the police that a search for a dangerous criminal is underway. The city of Maretropolis was going to be on full alert from here on. He returned to find Mare Do Well hadn’t stopped gazing at the hole on the wall.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

“I don’t know her, Greyhoof. We’ve been doing this song and dance for years… and yet I don’t really know her, nor do I think she really knows me. How can two ponies hate each other so much without even knowing each other?”

On the next day the news got out that Pinkamena had escaped from asylum. It certainly didn’t fare well for the citizens of Maretropolis, especially Fluttershy. She was Mare Do Well’s former partner, codename “The Sparrow,” before she wanted to pursue a career as a veterinarian. Over the years she had fought crime alongside her and faced many of Mare Do Well’s rogues during her time as her partner, but none of them compared to Pinkamena, the worst of the lot. Late in the afternoon she walked home to hear the wailing sirens of police cars as they rushed through the streets. On any day it was normal sight for a citizen of Maretropolis, but this time it was different. She sensed the urgency of the speeding cruisers.

Fluttershy lived in a nice townhouse located in West Village with her father, Mr. Shy. He had white hair the shape of a vanilla swirl and a mustache that would look good on a friendly pony as him. During the day he works as a supervisor at a cloud factory which was located above the city of Maretropolis. He was always home before Fluttershy, who usually arrived well before dinner time. She opened the door and they greeted each other by smiling. Mr. Shy was on his favorite chair wiping a glass jar with a cloth. The jar had a small cloud inside, and out of the cloud were tiny snowflakes. It was his latest collection.

“How was your day, sweetie?” he asked.

“It was wonderful,” said Fluttershy. Her face fell. “Well, not exactly. I, uh… we had to… put down a very sick dog. The family that owned him were very sad, especially the kids.”

“How terrible.”

“The dog made frequent visits to the vet. It was clear he wasn’t going to make it this time. I wish I could have done more to help him,” Fluttershy said with sadness.

“The important thing is that you tried to help,” said Mr. Shy. “That’s what I always love about you, you try your best no matter what. I’m sure that family appreciates what you’ve done.”

Fluttershy gave him a little smile. There were times where he had the right words to say whenever her spirit was low. They spoke to each other with such gentle and tender voices that it was difficult for them to get into a disagreement, or raise their voices. They were too in sync.

“How was the cloud factory?” she asked.

“I just found a new entry for my collection,” said Mr. Shy. He showed her the glass jar with the snow cloud inside. “Otherwise, it was work as usual. I don’t suppose you heard the news, haven’t you?”

“What news?” asked Fluttershy, although she knew what he was talking about.

“That dreadful pony Pinkamena escaped from jail.”

The syllables of that pony’s name sent chills through Fluttershy’s spine. For the last three years she hoped she’d never have to hear it again.

“I hope the police finds her,” she said.

“They will, honey. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“With Pinkamena there’s always something to be afraid of. She’s so unpredictable. I remember the first time Mare Do Well and I solved a mystery that involved her; it was the murder of that millionaire. When finally I saw her face to face and that terrible smile…” she trailed off as Pinkamena’s face forced its way into her thoughts, causing Fluttershy to shudder again. “That time gave me nightmares for weeks.”

“That reminds me, I still have that old newspaper from years ago, when Mare Do Well and… The Sparrow first caught her,” said Mr. Shy. He opened a photo album and presented a newspaper clipping containing a photograph of Fluttershy and Mare Do Well apprehending Pinkamena, who was in hoofcuffs, with the headline on top printed in bold letters. Although the public had no idea who the true identity of either hero, Mr. Shy knew his daughter very well. It didn’t take him long to find that Fluttershy herself was Sparrow, but he grew proud of her daughter’s efforts to make the streets of Maretropolis a better place.

“Why do keep that?” asked Fluttershy.

“I’m just proud that my daughter is a hero to millions of ponies,” he said.

“No, I’m not a hero,” she said modestly. “It was Mare Do Well who did all the work. All I’ve done was follow her around and kick things.”

“Well, you helped put a lot of bad ponies away. That’s something to be proud of.”

Fluttershy once again gave a smile that only daughter gave to her father. Once again he always knew what to say.

They were caught off-guard by the doorbell. Who could that be at this hour, they asked themselves. Fluttershy looked at her father, wondering if he inspecting anypony, likewise with Mr. Shy. Fluttershy opened the door as the bell rang again.

Then she gazed into the eyes of madness incarnate.

Pinkamena stood in front of her, giving Fluttershy that terrible grin that caused her to have night terrors. She was wearing a purple hat that obscured the top half of her pink face. Fluttershy’s legs were stiff, her entire body unresponsive to her internal pleas to shut the door and call the police. Suddenly, Pinkamena pulled her close with one arm, as though she were giving the frightened pegasus a hug. She raised her other arm, brought it down Fluttershy’s back.

She let out an ear-piercing shriek of pain.

Pinkamena pulled the knife from Fluttershy’s back after stabbing her, then watch the pegasus fall backwards. Mr. Shy witnessed his only daughter, his little baby filly on the floor, blood pooling over the carpet while some came out of her mouth. She groaned and cried. Mr. Shy held his daughter up on his arms, pleading her to stay alive.

“Don’t worry, she’ll live,” said Pinkamena. “I didn’t hurt her too much. I wouldn’t dream of killing one of the few ponies I consider my friend. We’ve shared so many good times together. She’ll be fine, although I can’t say the same about the use of her wings. In fact, the thought of her flying anywhere seems unlikely at this point.”

Mr. Shy stared at Pinkamena as she poured herself a drink from the kitchen. She said those horrible things in such a light-hearted and casual manner that he felt something inside him he never felt before. He looked at his daughter. She was coughing blood. She opened her tear-filled eyes.

“Daddy,” she whimpered.

He looked at Pinkamena again. Mr. Shy realized what the feeling was. It was anger, hatred. He wanted Pinkamena to pay for what she has done. Mr. Shy charged at her, but he didn’t see two other ponies enter the room. They were full of muscle and bad breath, and caught hold of Mr. Shy before he could get to Pinkamena, then they gave him a face full of hooves.

“Hey now, be careful with him!” Pinkamena told the burly ponies. “He is the main star of our show, after all. I don’t want him too roughed up.”

As the ponies gave a beating to Mr. Shy, Pinkamena approached Fluttershy. She chuckled as she watched the pegasus cry and begging for help. Pinkamena knelt down until she was close to her face.

“I’m sorry you’ll have to miss your dad’s big debut,” she said as though having a casual conversation. “You’d probably enjoy it if you weren’t on the ground. But don’t worry, you still get to be part of the show in a different way!” she said excitedly.

Pinkamena released a camera she kept hidden in her self, then she took the blood from Fluttershy’s mouth and smeared it over the poor pegasus’ face until it appeared she had a grotesque bloody smile.

“Why are you doing this?” pleaded Fluttershy.

“To prove a point,” answered Pinkamena. She raised her glass. “Here’s to crime.”

Every night before Lemon Pie went out, she will always say goodnight to her mother. She made sure of herself to always do it, for everyday could be her mother’s last. She had fallen extremely ill. Lemon had to leave school to take care of her and took up odd jobs and work at nights to help support her, to get the medication she needed.

Currently she worked as a custodian at night, after her other jobs as a convenient store vendor in the morning and a garbage pony in the afternoon. Everyday was a full day of work with no time for herself, no time for sleep, and of course low wages. Lemon began to rationalize that there were young colts and mares roaming the streets that made much more than her in a week.

Lemon still remember the words her mother instilled in her mind all those years ago, “Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.” One night, after saying goodnight to her sweet, ailing mother, Lemon decided to have the courage to actually change something in her life. When she stepped out of her apartment building she chose not go to do her janitorial work, but venture to the lower part of town where the gangsters, low-lives and drunkards lived. Lemon found a bar with a red neon sign on top of the door and went in. Like all the places she’s been in her life, it was nearly dark except for the few electric lights bulbs that hung from the ceiling. Awful music played from the jukebox and the air smelled of tobacco and reefer. At a table she saw two ponies wearing identical clothes - suits and ties, pencil-thin mustaches, and fedoras to match. They could be the type of ponies she was looking for, but how could she know? Lemon sat at a stool that was earshot of them and pretended to order a drink. She tried not to look at them, but somehow she knew that their eyes were on her.

“We know what you’re trying to do, miss,” one of them said. Lemon gritted her teeth. “Instead of sneaking around tell us what you want.”

Lemon turned around to see that one of the suits invited her to sit with them. She hesitated, then reminded herself that it was her choice to come to this place. She took the empty seat between them, and they nodded.

“We know when somepony is trying to creep around us,” the other said. He had a deep voice, and was slender. “It means they want a favor from us.”

“So tell us, miss, what’s a mare like you doin’ in a place like this?” his friend asked. Lemon was taken by surprised by his voice. He was short and portly, but his tone wasn’t nearly as deep.

“Well… uh… you see, I have a situation.”

“Don’t we all,” said the portly pony.

Before Lemon continued, the thin pony ordered a drink for her. On the house, he added. Not a moment sooner the glass was given to her. Lemon took a small drink. The taste was bitter. It was the first time she had an alcoholic beverage.

“So you were sayin’, “ the portly pony said.

“You see, I have a situation… a situation I’ve been dealing with all my life. I live with my mother, and since my father ran out on us when I was a baby she had to take care of me. She’s the sweetest mare you’ll ever meet and… my one true friend. She’s sick, and the doctors think it’ll be a matter of time before… “

“So why are you coming to us?” the thin pony said.

“I just… I’m desperate, okay,” sighed Lemon. “I need to do something. I need money. I had so many crummy jobs that I can’t stand it anymore! I can’t take not having any money! And my mother, I love her! I just need enough money to give her the best treatment she needs and maybe… maybe leave this terrible city. I have nowhere else to go. I need your help.”

The two gangsters exchanged questionable looks to each other. It wasn’t the first time they’ve heard sob stories from desperate ponies. However, never in their lives they considered refusing a mare who approached them. She seemed earnest enough. After taking a moment to think, the gangsters leaned toward heard, spoke in hushed voices.

“If you’re really desperate enough, here’s the deal,” the portly pony said. “We’re thinking about stealing some taffy for a big trade with some ponies from Las Pegasus that’s happening in a week. If you can help us, maybe there might be some money for you when it’s done.”

“Really? Do you mean it?” asked Lemon.

“Sure… as long as you don’t cross us,” the thin pony said.

The portly pony took out a briefcase from under the table. He opened it, and gave Lemon a devilish smile. “Just so you know, you’ll have to wear a mask, so ponies won’t know who you are.”

“What about you guys?” asked Lemon.

“We’re gangsters; we ain’t afraid of having our faces seen. Besides, most of the time our faces are the last things most ponies see. But you have your whole life to worry about.”

The portly pony presented Lemon her mask. It was the shape of a head of a draconequus, particularly ugly; it was unpleasant mixture between a horse and a dragon. Lemon looked at the empty eyeholes of the mask, not knowing what to think.

“So you want me to wear a Discord mask?” she asked.

“Sure. Everypony’s afraid of Discord, right?” said the portly pony.

“If you say so.”

The gangsters ordered another drink from themselves and Lemon. When their glasses arrived, they proposed a toast to crime, quietly so nopony can hear. Lemon toasted with them. She drank, and imagined how life will be like when things finally went the way she wanted. Lemon smiled and realized that anypony can have the serenity to accept their situation, but very few have the courage to change it.

Mare Do Well didn’t know how to stop gazing at her unconscious friend. She couldn’t believe it. Her greatest fear was finally realized; somepony harmed a pony very close to her. What kind of deranged psychopath would do that to someone like Fluttershy, she wondered. Mare Do Well knew well who could have done it, but didn’t want to assume anything. She prayed it was somepony else. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she hoped it was a random act of violence. Maybe whoever have done it didn’t know who Fluttershy was during her past life.

“How is she?” Mare Do Well asked the doctor.

The doctor was quiet. The two of them took long glances at the pegasus.

“She is in stable condition,” he finally said, but his voice was somber. Mare Do Well understood there was more, and she will not like what she will hear. “But the stab to her back severed the nervous system attached to her wings… meaning she has lost her ability to fly. I’m so sorry.”

“We responded to an emergency call,” a cop said. “Something about a break-in and screaming. We found her on the ground, unconscious, blood on the floor and all over her face and body. Aside from the stab wound on the back there were no others, thank goodness.” The cop reached into his shirt pocket. “The perp left a calling card at the scene.”

The cop gave the masked pony a playing card of the court jester. The answer was clear: Pinkamena. She turned the card over. There was a message written in red marker.

For Mare Do Well - Meet me at Whinniefield Meadows tonight. Ha Ha Ha!

Mare Do Well said nothing. Later she asked the doctor and the cop to leave the room so she can be alone with her. The hospital room was silent, the only sound coming from the machines keeping Fluttershy alive.

Of all the things Pinkamena has done, this was something Mare Do Well will never forgive her for. She thought of Fluttershy’s time as the Sparrow; moments flashed through her mind, times when she displayed her skills in flight. Whether it was to take down a runaway group of thugs or to save Mare Do Well’s life in a hopeless situation, flight and her beautiful yellow wings were Fluttershy’s best feature. Now she will never again embrace the sky because of what Pinkamena had done to her. Mare Do Well clenched her hoof, vowing that Pinkamena will pay for what she’s done, but first thing’s first. She leaned close, stoked her yellow face with her gloved hoof.

“Fluttershy?” she whispered gently. “It’s me… Mare Do Well. I’m here. Talk to me.”

There was no reaction from the pegasus. The machines continued their hum and whirr. Mare Do Well promised herself she wouldn’t leave until she Fluttershy opened her eyes and seen her masked face. Pinkamena didn’t matter at that point. A moment later there was slight movement of the head. Mare Do Well stroked her face some more. Fluttershy slowly came to, not noticing that a costumed pony wearing a cape stood beside her.

“Wha… where…” she said. Her eyes shot open as though she had seen the face of death. “Oh no. Oh no! Pinkamena! What happened?” she began to yell.

Mare Do Well embraced her, holding her head so she can cry on her chest. “It’s okay… I’m here,” she said soothingly.

“No! Everything’s not okay!” cried Fluttershy. “She came! She stood at my door… she stabbed me… she took my father away! You hadn’t seen her smile! That terrible, terrible eyes!” Fluttershy lifted her head so Mare Do Well can see her tear-stricken eyes. “She took my father away! You have to find him! Please, you have to do something! Find my father before it’s too late!”

Mr. Shy couldn’t remember what happened to him. One moment he was at home sitting on his chair, but the next events proceeded at such a blur and fast-pace motion that everything seemed to turn to black. Then he woke to find himself hunched up in a miniature cage like an animal. He had a difficult time speaking, making vowel sounds like he were an infant. Mr. Shy let out a plea for help in the form of a low whimper.

He was started by the rattling of the cage. Somepony was opening it, but he couldn’t who he - or they were. There were probably two or three of them, muttering incoherently. The cage was swung open. “Out!” one of them shouted. He didn’t sound like any pony Mr. Shy have heard. It was weird, almost alien-like. “Out!” he shouted again. Hooves grabbed hold of him and he was forced out of the cage.

Mr. Shy removed his face from the ground and had a good look at his captors. They were small ponies, almost like colts and fillies. Their coats were pale, devoid of their respective colors, faces repulsive, eyes bulging from their sockets, mouths which wouldn’t shut that showed their crooked and plaque-infected teeth; they appeared more like diamond dogs than ponies. The three ugly ponies represented each race - earth pony, unicorn, and pegasus, like a bizarre parody. Mr. Shy looked away, but the little ponies caught hold of him and beated him. They forced a collar on him while Mr. Shy pleaded for mercy. “Up!” the unicorn said. When Mr. Shy refused to comply the unicorn pull the leash, almost choking him. “UP!” the unicorn shouted with fury. Mr. Shy had no choice but to do what they said if he wanted to live.

The small ponies pulled him like a dog under the blinding white lights. Mr. Shy was pretty sure where he was looked like an amusement park. There was a merry-go-round and a roller coaster to his right that was as tall as a tower. He was lead through booths, rides, games. It was so dark he almost stumbled on a ditch on the ground. Why was he being lead here, Mr. Shy wondered.

“Where are you taking me?” he asked. His small captors said nothing, only mumbling like goblins and imps from fairy tales. His skin turned white and his heart almost stopped when they passed a dead body of a pony. “Oh dear, please don’t hurt me,” Mr. Shy pleaded.

When they arrived closer to their destination Mr. Shy heard an uproar of mocking laughter. He witnessed a congregation of sideshow freaks and geeks, all pointing and laughing at him; the classic ones like the Two-Headed Mare, the Fattest Pony in the World, the Skinniest Pony in the World, the Werewolf, the Bearded Mare, the Stallion with No Limbs, the One-Eyed Monster. They were all childhood nightmares come to life.

The small captors pushed Mr. Shy to the ground, in front of him was a pile of bodies of dead foals. Mr. Shy was shocked and nauseated by the sight, until he looked closer and realized they were only discarded and destroyed foal dolls. He was slightly relieved, but still deathly afraid. The laughter from the carnival freaks continued.

“What’s happening to me? What am I doing here?” he asked.

“Doing?” a voice said. “You’re doing what any pony would do in your situation… you’re going mad.”

Mr. Shy looked up. There was Pinkamena, sitting on her throne which laid on top of the pile of foal dolls. She was smiling at the frightened stallion. Mr. Shy gazed at her, then he remembered everything that happened to him this night. The break-in, the beatings, the blood… and his daughter. That feeling came to him again, the sense of anger at that maniacal pony.

“You… it’s you. I remember -”

“Remember? Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” said Pinkamena. “Remembering is dangerous. I find the past to be a worrying, anxious place. Memory is so treacherous. One moment you’re lost in a carnival of delights, with poignant childhood aromas, the flashing neon of puberty - all that sentimental fluff.” Suddenly her smile faded into a frown, the first time Mr. Shy - or anypony for that matter, had seen her do that. “The next, it leads you somewhere you don’t want to go… somewhere cold and dark, filled with damp, ambiguous shapes of things you hoped were forgotten. Memories can be vile, ugly little brutes.” Her smile returned. She looked at Mr. Shy’s captors. “Kind of like children I suppose,” she laughed.

“Oh no… Fluttershy. What have you done to my daughter?” cried Mr. Shy. The small ponies pulled his leash, dragging him into an amusement park ride called the Ghost Train. While strapping him in he pleaded to know what happened to Fluttershy.

“But can we live without them?” said Pinkamena. “Memories are what our reason is based upon. If we can’t face them, we deny reason itself. Although, why not? We’re not contractually tied down to rationality. There’s no sanity clause, as you know.”

The ride began, and Mr. Shy screamed for it to stop. Pinkamena only shook her head. “So when you find yourself locked in an unpleasant train of thought, heading for the places in your past where the screaming is unbearable, there’s always madness,” she said. “It’s life’s emergency exit! You can step outside and close the door on all those dreadful things that happened. You can lock them away… forever.”

Mr. Shy screamed for the last time, and the twin doors to the ghost ride closed. Pinkamena sighed. Some ponies just don’t get it, she decided. But she remained optimistic. Mr. Shy will learn in time that she was right all along. Pinkamena walked away and prepared for the next part of her experiment.

Lemon Pie watched her mother closely with every slow breath she took. Sometimes Lemon wiped the sweat off of her mother’s forehead. The fever must have been a terrible one, she figured. She took days off from work when Cloudy Quartz illness grew worse, not that she cared about the convenient store and the sanitation jobs. Lemon only had enough money for a few pills, but it still wasn’t enough. Lemon even grew anxious when Cloudy coughed. The sounds of her coughing were ugly, gross, full of death.

She never left her side on those days. Lemon tried to block the terrible thoughts from her mind. She wanted to pretend her beloved mother wasn’t dying. Soon she’ll score big at the taffy factory, and Lemon will be able to properly give Cloudy the best treatment for her illness. She filled her mind with all of the money and bits she was going to make on the heist. It was the only way for her to pull through.

It was eerily quiet on the night Cloudy shed her mortal shell. She awoke from her long nap, coughing, then seeing her daughter holding her weak hoof, as if trying to keep her from fading away. Cloudy knew her time is almost up. She spoke her daughter’s name like a breeze in the darkness.

“Lemon… Lemon,” she said.

Lemon Pie looked up. She smiled as her mother smiled back.

“I’m here,” said Lemon. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

“You don’t have to do this, darling.”

“Don’t say that,” pleaded Lemon.

Cloudy continued to smile, knowing these were her last moments with her beautiful daughter. For one last time she let the images of the years flash through her mind; from the moment Lemon was born, to her first day of school, to spending alongside her on Cloudy’s deathbed. Tears rolled down Lemon’s eyes. Slowly, Cloudy picked up her hoof to wipe them.

“I don’t want you to go,” whimpered Lemon.

“I don’t want to go either, but I have to. I’ve done all I can in this life.”

“Please stop saying things like that!” cried Lemon. Cloudy coughed in response, causing her daughter to hold her weak hoof tighter. “In a few days… I’m going to have a promotion at one of my jobs. Yeah, that’s right… a promotion. I’m going to make lots of money, and when I do you won’t have to be sick! Just please don’t leave me!”

“... Lemon, remember that day when you came home from school all those years ago… and you said those mean children gave you a black eye?”

Lemon wiped her teary eyes. “Uh-huh.”

“Do you still remember the words I told you?”

“... Give me the serenity… to accept the things I cannot change… courage to change the things I can…” Lemon couldn’t finish. It was too much for her.

“I made it my job to prepare you for what life throws at you,” said Cloudy, “so you can learn from your experiences and grow into a mature young mare. And I think it was a job well-done. Do me this one favor… continue to live your life. Don’t cry over me. Just remember that I’ll always love you, even from parts beyond.”

Lemon said nothing. A flood of tears poured from her eyes. Cloudy kept her contentful gaze at her daughter until her eyes closed for the last time. After that her soul drifted away. Lemon was finally alone in this awful place she called the world. The only pony she cared about more than anything else was gone forever.

After spending a whole hour sobbing she remembered the taffy factory heist she agreed to take part of. Lemon realized there was no reason to do it anymore. It was all for her mother, and now she’s dead. But there was still the matter of the money involved, and the option to have enough money to leave this city with was still on the table. Lemon decided to continue with the heist, then when all is accomplished she will disappear from this awful place forever, just like her mother.

Mr. Shy covered his head when the cart entered the dark tunnel. He feared of what might come out of the blackness. His three captors were in the cart with him, pushing and shoving, forcing his head up, yelling at him - grunting like miniature diamond dogs they were.

Suddenly the ride stopped. Mr. Shy was relieved, until a giant video image of Pinkamena flashed in the darkness.

“Heads up, Mr. Shy!” she said. “No fair hiding your eyes on the ghost train, you ‘fraidy cat!”

Mr. Shy whimpered. He refused to look up.

“Oh, I know,” sighed Pinkamena. “You’re confused, frightened… who wouldn’t be? You’re in one heck of a situation. But although life is a bowl of cherries and this is the pits, always remember this…” A purple top hat manifested in her hoof and she placed it on her head as music began to play. There was a deep roll of percussion, rising notes of brass, and as the cart pulled ever towards the darkness, Pinkamena sang:

When the world is full of care,
And every headline screams despair,
When all is death, starvation, war and life is vile…
Then there’s a certain thing I do,
Which I shall pass along to you,
That’s always guaranteed to make me smile…

I go lo-o-ony!
As a light-bulb battered bug!
Simply lo-o-ony!
Sometimes foam and chew the rug

Mister, life is swell in a padded cell,
It’ll chase those blues away,
You can trade your gloom for a rubber room,
And injections twice a day!

Just go loony like a taffy casualty,
Or a moonie or a princess on TV

When the pony race wears an anxious face,
When the storm clouds overhead,
When you kid turns blue, it won’t worry you,
You can smile and nod instead,

When you’re lo-o-ony!
Then you just don’t give a fig!
We’re so puny, and the universe so big!

If you hurt inside, get certified,
And if life should treat you bad,
Don’t get even, get mad!

While Pinkamena was in the middle of her musical number, the ride displayed photographs and newspaper headlines featuring acts of cruelty committed by ponies, to each other or sometimes to themselves, as well as disasters and tragedies. Mr. Shy tried to avert his eyes, but everything seem endless. He pleaded for Pinkamena to stop, forgetting that she was not listening to him and was probably somewhere else in the amusement park.

Then, at the climax of her troubling song, the ride was pitch black once again. Another photograph appeared, but this time Mr. Shy didn’t look away. It looked like a photo of Fluttershy… but something happened to her. She had tears in her eyes; she appeared to be in pain. Then another photo flashed, then another, and then another one after that. All of them featured Fluttershy - in everyone of them she was crying, and blood was smeared all over her face and parts of her body.

It was at that moment Mr. Shy finally realized what happened to his only daughter. In a fit of despair, he screamed her name repeatedly as the terrible ride continued. Not only did he come face to face with the gruesome pictures of his beloved daughter, his senses were disturbed by the maddening imagery and constant noises of agonizing screams. Mr. Shy didn’t know if the tunnel was spinning or if he himself was spinning. After the cart ran through the black tunnel it entered another that was glowing red, with more images and sounds more disturbing than the last, then a green tunnel, then purple, and then so on, spliced with a few reminders of Fluttershy. Mr. Shy was sure he was going to die, and Pinkamena was trying to kill him.

Finally, the cart entered a dark tunnel, and the slowed. There was a small bright beam of light at the end, for a moment Mr. Shy believed he was entering the afterlife. He couldn’t feel himself, his throat became raspy from the constant scream he had done. The cart stopped outside under the lights of the amusement park, where Pinkamena waited patiently for his victim.

“There you are!” she said happily. “My goodness, that was some ghost train! I had no idea a soft-spoken pony like you can yell and scream so much! Then again, Fluttershy’s a great screamer too. She must’ve gotten it from you, I suppose. Poor fella, that’s a dose of reality does for you. As for me, I never touch the stuff. I find it gets in the way of the hallucinations, if you know what I mean,” she said with a wink of an eye.

The three ponies jumped out of the cart and pulled the leash, dragging Mr. Shy on the ground. He didn’t even struggle to pick himself up. He simply lied on his belly, and from his pathetic state Pinkamena swore he had given up on life itself. She knelt to Mr. Shy to get a good look at him, and found he carried a tired and blank stare, as if he were dead.

“Hey, Fluttershy’s dad, are you awake?” Pinkamena said playfully. She waved her hoof in front of his face. “Yoo-hoo, anypony in there?”

Mr. Shy gave no response, causing Pinkamena to frowned. “You’re no fun,” she said. “This pony’s a complete turnip! Take this bum back to his cage!” she said to the ugly miniature ponies. “Perhaps he’ll get a little more livelier once he’s had time to think his situation over… to reflect upon life and all its random injustice.”

“Hey, c’mon! Quit your daydreaming!” Rowdy Ruff said to Lemon Pie. That was the name of the stout pony with the slightly high-pitched voice. The other pony’s name was Mr. Nobody (a strange name, she thought). Lemon had learned her names just now, after realizing she had neglected to get them when they first met at the shady bar.

Lemon was busy gazing at her sad-looking face reflecting from a puddle on the ground. Rowdy Ruff snapped her out of her trance by placing his hoof on her foreleg. “C’mon, we ain’t got all day,” he said.

“Oh… I’m sorry. I was just… thinking about my mother.”

“What about her?” asked Rowdy, but he wasn’t nearly interested.

“She died a couple of days ago.”

“Oh. Well, that’s too bad, I guess. I’m sorry.”

Lemon knew from his tone that Rowdy wasn’t genuine, but it didn’t matter to her. She remembered being eager to help those two gangsters rob the taffy factory, even if it was against her own morals. Lemon was willing to do anything for her mother, but now the taffy heist was the last thing to occupy her thoughts. She thought about backing out, but she already agreed to it. From the looks of the gangsters, they don’t seem like the most understandable ponies in the world. Lemon didn’t want to know how they’ll react if she changed her mind at the last minute.

“I just want to get this done,” said Lemon. “Once this is over and I get my half of the money, I’m out of here forever.”

“We’ll get it done sooner if you shut your trap,” said Mr. Nobody. “Now put this mask on.”

Mr. Nobody gave Lemon the Discord mask. She still didn’t know why they wanted her to wear it, since they didn’t think to wear masks themselves. While putting the mask on she tried to fix the eyes holes so she can see. The mask was tight around her head.

“How do I look?” Lemon asked.

“You look great,” said Rowdy Ruff. “Nopony will recognize you.”

“It’s kinda hard to see. Are you sure this is necessary?”

“You’ll get use to it,” said Mr. Nobody. “Now let’s get moving, and keep it down once we get inside.”

Rowdy Ruff and Mr. Nobody lead Lemon to the back door of the taffy factory. Rowdy picked at the lock with a screwdriver. He slowly opened the door, stopping once in a while to ease the sounds of the rusty screws. Rowdy poked his head inside, looked both sides, and let the others in. The ponies walked through the hall filled with office doors until they found the doorway proper to the factory. Mr. Nobody extended his arm to stop Lemon from proceeding any further while Rowdy Ruff scanned the area.

“All clear,” he whispered.

“How are we going to get the taffy?” asked Lemon.

Mr. Nobody shushed her, then said, “We brought an extracting device with us. We just attach it to one of those large vats over there and suck the taffy right out.”

“Then we bring it to the ponies in Las Pegasus, right? And we’ll get money?”

“Depends on what -”

Somepony yelled “FREEZE!” to them. Lemon and the gangsters looked up and saw a police officer. Two more appeared beside him. With no time to think, the ponies ran away from the scene, but the police were quick to follow them. They found a hiding spot under an assembly belt.

“How did the cops know we’d be here?” said Rowdy.

“We’ve been double-crossed!” answered Mr. Nobody. He gave a nasty look to Lemon Pie, who was cowering between them. “This one probably hoodwinked us!”

“What? What are you - I didn’t do anything!”

“She probably went to the cops right after our little meeting!” said Mr. Nobody. “I knew there was something suspicious about her!” He pulled a knife from underneath is suit jacket and drew it near Lemon’s white neck.

“What are you doing?” she screamed.

“This goes to show you, Rowdy… never trust a mare!”

Blasts of magic from unicorn officers gave a severe blow the two gangsters, and they fell unconscious. One of them aimed his horn at Lemon, and missed when she escaped from their sight. She quickly climbed a steel ladder, forgetting she still had the Discord mask over her face. She found herself at a walkway on the first level of the factory, but police officers were right on her tail, informing her to surrender or face the consequences.

The voices of the police officers were suddenly silenced. Someone… something, decided to intervene. Lemon slowly turned around, fearing for her life all the same.

She was face to face with the legendary Mare Do Well, the masked avenger of Maretropolis. The costumed hero gave the appearance of a merciless phantom ready to strike at the heart of any unfortunate pony. Mare Do Well’s eyes, if the pony had any, stayed on Lemon, who was frozen with fear.

“I don’t know who you are,” said Mare Do Well. Her voice sent chills to anyone who listened. “But you have made a serious mistake.”

Lemon came to her senses, and backed away. Mare Do Well slowly approached her.

“No, please, wait! You don’t understand!” said Lemon. “Don’t hurt me! Don’t hurt me, please! I’m begging you!”

Lemon backed away until she was leaning on the rails on the walkway. However, the rails broke, and she fell off the edge. Mare Do Well tried to retrieve her, but it was too late. Lemon Pie was deep in the vat of taffy.

But she didn’t die. Instead, the vat sucked her into the sewage system of the factory, and after sliding through a long passage she was spat out onto the filthy water. She climbed out until she reached the glass, then gasped and panted for air.

“... What happened?” Lemon groaned. “Why am I all sticky? Why do I feel weird?”

Lemon quickly removed the Discord mask and saw a reflection of her on a puddle of water… only it wasn’t her. Her white skin was gone and her straight hair was the shape of cotton candy. Everything about her new appearance was… pink. Lemon stroked her skin and touched her hair in disbelief. As she became overwhelmed with grief she cried softly.

Then something happened. Lemon realized that all her life she was at an unfair advantage. Fate mocked her and destiny butchered her dreams. No miracles happened in her life, and optimism failed to comfort her. Upon having this epiphany her crying slowly turned into chuckling. Then, having accepted the circumstances of her existence, she burst into maniacal laughter.

Lemon Pie was dead. From that day forth there was only Pinkamena.

The carnival freaks point and laughed at Mr. Shy as he was returned to his cage. It was probably the first time they did so to an ordinary pony, seeing how much the tables have been turned. They laughed so horribly that every one of them were more like manic hyenas than ponies. Mr. Shy hid himself away from them. He felt himself being thrown back to his colthood, when all the boys bullied and laughed at him. His cage was a bonus for added torture.

The laughter ceased when someone stomped their hooves on the ground. The freaks turned around and paid attention to Pinkamena as she spoke with a boisterous voice. This time they were the captivated audience while the poor pony was the freak in the cage.

“Mares and gentlecolts, gather ‘round!” she announced. “You’ve read about it in the newspapers! Now shudder as you observe before your very eyes, the most rare and tragic of mother nature’s mistakes! I give you… the average pony!

“Physically unremarkable, it has instead a deformed set of values. Notice the hideously bloated sense of the importance of life. The club-hooved social conscience and withered optimism. It’s certainly isn’t for the squeamish, isn’t it? Most repulsive of all are it’s frail and useless notions of order and sanity, harmony and friendship. If too much weight is placed upon them… they snap.

“How does it live? I hear you ask. How does this poor, pathetic specimen survive in this harsh and irrational world? The answer to that is ‘Not very well.’ Faced with the inescapable fact that existence is mad, random and pointless, one out of eight of them crack up and lose their marbles! Who can blame them? In a world as psychotic as this, any other response would be crazy!”

The freaks laughed some more. The hairy one that looked like a werewolf approached the cage with caution, believing this pathetic “average pony” had some kind of contagion that can spread if one got too close.

The laughter fell silent when a grappling hook stabbed the ground. Like a creature flying from the mouth of Tartarus, Mare Do Well was in their midst, leaping out of the darkness and standing firm against all that is evil. A cloud of fear hovered over the carnival freaks, and they dispersed into separate directions like ants scattering. They only pony who showed no fear or hesitation was Pinkamena. She smiled at the masked pony, pleased that Mare Do Well had come just in time. The faceless mask of Mare Do Well displayed no expression, but Pinkamena could only imagine the deep scowl on whoever was underneath the mask. It made her sinister smile grow even more.

Mare Do Well hurled herself at Pinkamena, and the two ponies tumbled on the ground, hitting and throttling each other. Mare Do Well overpowered her, forcing her up close to her mask by the collar. There was a flower attached to Pinkamena’s purple coat, which squirted acid on Mare Do Well’s arm. The masked hero unintentionally released her and tended to her wound. Pinkamena laughed hysterically and escaped into a funhouse.

Mare Do Well followed her until she saw a cage. Looking closely she saw a pony inside. She recognized him… he was Fluttershy’s father. Pinkamena you monster, Mare Do Well said to herself. She unlocked the cage and pulled Mr. Shy out. Mare Do Well asked if any harm came to him, in which he replied with a horrendous whimper.

“It’s okay… it’s over now,” she said.

She sat Mr. Shy down and wrapped a curtain from a booth around him.

“She… she stabbed Fluttershy,” he said. “She showed me those horrible pictures… she tried to drive me mad.”

“The police are on their way,” said Mare Do Well. “I’ll stay here with you until they arrive.”

“No! No… I’ll be okay,” said Mr. Shy. “But you… you have to go after her! You have to bring her in! She has to pay for what she’s done!”

Mare Do Well saw that look of eagerness on Mr. Shy’s face, and nodded. When he nodded in return the masked pony marched herself into the funhouse, into the jaws of darkness.

There was blinding red light, making it difficult for Mare Do Well to see where she was going. She didn’t know if there was a wall incoming or if it was just more red light. A hallway later she found a distorted reflection of herself. And then another, and then another. On each mirror she was a different shape, size, proportion. Mare Do Well figured she was in a hall of mirrors. Who knows what kind of surprises this funhouse has?

A trap door opened. Mare Do Well caught hold of the edge before she descended, seeing that the bottom was filled with metal spikes that extended from the surface. This was not Mare Do Well’s idea of a funhouse. She climbed over and continued on her way. Where is Pinkamena, she asked herself.

Mare Do Well was caught by surprise by the pounding and screech of a microphone.

“Hello? Is this thing on?” said Pinkamena. She was nowhere to be seen, although there were pictures of her appearing from out of the blackness and red light. “So… I see you have received the free ticket I sent you. I’m glad. I did so want you to be here. You see, it doesn’t matter if you catch me and send me back to the asylum. Mr. Shy has been driven mad! I proved my point! I’ve demonstrated that there’s no difference between me and everypony else, that all it takes is one bad day to reduce the sanest pony alive to lunacy. The world’s not far from where I am… just one bad day.

“You had a bad day once, am I right? I know I am. I can tell just by looking at you. You had a bad day and everything changed. Why else would you willingly dress up in a Nightmare Night costume? You had a bad day and drove you as crazy as everybody else, only you won’t admit it! You have to keep pretending that things still makes sense, that’s there’s still order in the world! Gosh, you make me sick sometimes!

“What is it that made you what you are? Special somepony killed by some hoodlums, maybe? Brother carved up by some mugger? Something like that, I bet. Something like that… something like that happened to me, you know. I’m not exactly sure how it happened. Sometimes I remember one way, sometimes another. If I’m going to have a past, I prefer it to be multiple choice!

“The point I’m trying to make is that I went crazy, and I’m much better because of it! When I saw what a black, awful joke the whole world was, I went as crazy as a hoot! I admit it, why can’t you? I know you’re not stupid! You must see the reality of the situation! It’s all a joke! Everything everyone ever valued and ever struggled for… it’s all a monstrous, demented gag! So why can’t you see the funny side? Why aren’t you laughing?”

Mare Do Well burst through a mirror and found Pinkamena. The pink pony, for the first time ever in their rivalry, had a look of genuine surprise. The caped hero pulled Pinkamena close to her by the collar of her jacket.

“Because I heard it before… and it wasn’t funny the first time.”

Mare Do Well shoved her to the floor. Pinkamena was cornered, crawling helplessly as though she were a low-level scum Mare Do Well usually faced on the regular basis.

“Incidentally, I spoke to Mr. Shy before I came in here. Despite your sick, twisted little games, he’s as sane as he ever was. So maybe ordinary ponies don’t always crack after one bad day. Maybe there isn’t any need to crawl under a rock with all the other slimy things when trouble arrives. Maybe it was just you, all this time.”

Pinkamena refused to listen. She pulled at Mare Do Well’s mask and kicked her in the chest, sending her falling on her back. The pink pony reached for a long beam of wood to deliver a terrible blow to her head. Mare Do Well caught it with her hoof just in time and sent a gloved hoof to Pinkamena’s stomach. Mare Do Well grabbed her once again and knocked her in the face, sending her flying out a door. The two were outside the funhouse, and Pinkamena was lying face down on a muddy puddle of water.

Mare Do Well believed she was unconscious. As soon as she was silently approaching her, Pinkamena stood up holding a knife. She hurled herself to Mare Do Well until she was on top of the crime-fighter, and struggled to bring the knife down as Mare Do Well was holding her arm up. Pinkamena forced her arm down until the knife reached Mare Do Well’s chest.

The blade squeaked on impact. It was only a toy.

“What?” Pinkamena said in disbelief. “No… no! I must’ve grabbed the wrong knife! Oh, why me? Why me! I finally have a chance to kill you and this happens!” she yelled. Pinkamena berated herself, which somehow sent a roll of thunder from the black sky. Mare Do Well stood, watching her nemesis wallow in her self-pity on the muddy ground. Finally, Pinkamena stopped yelling at herself and gave a disappointed look her rival. Her spirit of broken. “Well, what are you waiting for? I did bad things to innocent ponies. Take me in. Just beat the mess out of me and get a standing ovation from the public gallery… like always.”

Mare Do Well thought about bringing a hoof down Pinkamena’s face for everything that’s happened; from bringing permanent handicap to Fluttershy, to terrorizing her father, and for all the terrible things this villainous pony had done to this city. Then she noticed that sad look on her face. Pinkamena almost looked like a filly who nopony wanted to play with.

“No,” said Mare Do Well. “I’m not going to that… at least, not now. Can I tell you something? A few days ago I came to the Asylum for Trouble Individuals because I wanted to talk to you, only you weren’t there. I came there to make an offering… no, a plea. I didn’t want either us to kill each other, but as you can see we’re both running out of options.

“Maybe it hinges on tonight. Maybe this our last chance to sort this awful mess out. If you don’t take it, then we’ll be locked in a suicide course, together, to the death. It doesn’t have to end like that for us. I don’t know what it was that flipped your world upside-down, but who knows? Perhaps I’ve been there myself. Maybe I can help.

“We could work together. How about that? I can rehabilitate you. You don’t need to be on the edge of the abyss any longer. You don’t have to be alone. And we don’t have to kill each other. What do you say? Will you accept my offer?”

Mare Do Well extended a hoof of friendship to Pinkamena, possibly the only time she has done so. The pink pony stared at the gloved hoof, then at the crime-fighter. There was another crack of thunder, then it began to rain.

“No… no I can’t,” sighed Pinkamena. “It’s too late for me. Far too late. I’m sorry.”

The ponies stood in silence while the rain continued to pour. Pinkamena covered herself with her jacket when the wind picked up. A moment later she started to chuckle. Mare Do Well tilted her head, wanting to know what was so funny.

“You know, this whole thing, this whole situation… it reminds me of a joke,” said Pinkamena. “Do you… do you want to hear it?”

“... Go ahead,” said Mare Do Well.

“You see, there were these two ponies in a lunatic asylum. One night, they decided they didn’t want to be there anymore, so they hatch up a plan to escape. So they go on the roof, and there, just across this narrow gap, they see the rooftops of the town stretching away in the moonlight, stretching away to freedom.

“Now the first pony, she jumps straight across with no problem. But her friend was afraid of heights, and she was also scared of falling. So the first pony had an idea. She says, ‘Hey! I have my flashlight with me! I’ll shine it across the gap between the buildings. You can walk along the beam and join me!

“But the second pony shakes her head. She says, ‘What do you think I am? Crazy? You’d turn it off when I’m half way across!

“... There’s supposed a rimshot at the end,” said Pinkamena. “You know, when the drums go ba-dum-tiss!”

She began to chuckle at her joke. Later, her chuckling turned into full-blown laughter. It was a different, this time. There was nothing about it that sounded sinister; it was genuine, good-natured laughter. Mare Do Well thought about the joke and what it meant, and she couldn’t help but laugh along with her archenemy. Mare Do Well hadn’t realized it was the first time she laughed at one of Pinkamena’s jokes, or any joke. For a fleeting moment, all those years of animosity toward each other, all the rage and violence that defined their long rivalry; everything about the past, the present - and possibly the future, was forgotten. Soon their laughter was drowned by police sirens.

Author's Note

Dedicated to Alan Moore