Pinka 'Demeana' For What.

Pinkie Pie walked down the dimly lit hallway, the fizzing of lights going in and out showing different parts of her clothing.

''Man, I swear,'' Pinkie tugged at her mink coat, and pink feathered hat, doing her best to keep any impurities from it. ''If there's one thing that I hate more than anything, it's someone being inconsistent and messy.''

This time around, it was a little different then dealing with her normal clients, as she liked to be seen more in the open, but opportunities in the dark yielded the same results as it would any other time, she really wasn't going to complain or make this a habit. She had a image to uphold to everyone who knew about what she was about, and that knowing, that understanding, or in this case. . .the fear was more important than money itself. It took two minutes of walking and climbing a small flight of stairs before she reached her stop.

''Huh,'' Pinkie commented, opening the rusted door and walking in, noting the smell of incense and the undertone of blood in a attempt to mask it. ''Zecora certainly knows how to make a girl feel welcome.'' with every step, the weight of her boots against the floor was the only sound that she was familiar with that didn't mind hearing of almost every second of the day. Pinkie looked at the layout of the room, about as plain as it can be, besides the decorations of voodoo items and artifacts from Africa. It's been a few years since she went with Zecora to Africa to help her bring some of the charm home to the states. ''Those were good times, the food was amazing, the sights, nice and the tan I got before was heaven,'' Pinkie reminisced from her time, but while some was pleasure, most was business.

''Hello, there, Pinkie,'' Zecora came through a bead door, tying her white and black dreadlocks in a ponytail with a scrunchie. Her eyes seemed to brighten up as she walked in and gave her friend a hug. ''What brings you here?''

Pinkie took her hat off as a sign of respect, she always did this when conducting business. But this time was different.

. . .She would have to bite her tongue for the greater good.

''I'm here,'' Pinkie sat down, motioning for Zecora to do the same across from the circular table, crossing her legs and folding her arms. ''To kill you.''

Zecora sneezed, a little getting on the table and too close to Pinkie than she would have liked. ''What?''

Ka-Ching! ''You heard me,'' Pinkie uncovered a cannon of a revolver, the barrel long than anything she could have thought possible, etching of balloons and ribbons across the dark metal. Looking closer, she could see that this had to be custom made. Her heart began to thumb across her whole body, her lips quivered and she would probably have an accident if she thought her friend wasn't kidding.

And Pinkie didn't kid, even when it came to parties.

''You know, I liked you, Zecora, really I did, but you of all people should know that I don't like being screwed over, for any reason, so how about you tell me why you thought you could before I fully load this gun with the other 4 rounds, okay?''

Zecora's gut fell to the floor and her hands were clammy. How did she know about that? She only told one person, and that person was so far from her circle that it should have been nearly impossible for this to come up. Maybe she could talk her way out of this and maybe turn the situation into a positive one. ''Well, I thought that you knew that the plan changed.''

''It changed?'' Pinkie stopped at her last round after cleaning it. ''Without me being informed?'' Zecora chuckled, though nothing about this arrangement was funny. ''Fine, indulge me into who exactly halted my plans.''

Zecora smirked, knowing she had an out with this. ''Spike.'' she simply said.

Pinkie stared at her for the longest time, switching between pointing her gun at herself and then Zecora. For the longest time, she thought she might kill them both, and seeing as her mood changed from talkative from quiet, she wouldn't rule out the possibility. After a few minutes, she could feel the sweat drip from her brow from not turning the temperature down and it didn't get to Pinkie as much as she thought it would. With each passing second, her feet felt as heavy as lead, her breath in short, jagged intervals.

''Pink-'' Zecora began.

Bang! Pinkie fired, dead center at Zecora's chest, forcing her back a bit to the wall as she clutched and clawed at the hole in her chest, trying to find some breath as hers seemed to leave her. The pain was almost indescribable. She sunk to the floor, looking at Pinkie still pointing the gun at her with what she described as the most emotionless look ever. The brightness in her eyes was dulled and her wrinkles in her face showed as she was 'getting old' in Pinkie's words.

''So, Zecora,'' Pinkie said, cocking the hammer on her gun, rubbing the end of the barrel with a cloth. ''Think you could possibly tell me what it was that we agreed on on the first day I met you and started to help you, to support you, to. . .take care of you? Think before the shock gets to you that you could tell me?''

''. . .'' Zecora looked on, widening her eyes when Pinkie forced the barrel into her mouth and pushed it far enough to make her gag as her other hand uncovered a shaving shaving razor and waved it about lazily. ''Y-Yes.'' she muffled. Pinkie removed the gun and held it at her left eyeball.

''I'm listening.''

''N-Never lie to you,'' Zecora managed under a harsh exhale. ''But I c-counted on this happening. . .''

''Hmm?'' Pinkie asked.

''It's time. . .for you to p-pay. . .'' Zecora held up a small black piece of plastic, which upon looking more closely, it had a button on it. ''The p-place is surronded. . .with cops. . .''

Pinkie looked surprised, then she chuckled and patted Zecora's head as she struggled to breathe. She got up and walked away, going to the door and stopping short of just in the hallway, looking at her friend slowly losing her life. She had to admit. . .she had guts, that she had to give her. But it never wasn't gonna be enough.

''I appreciate you fighting until your last breath, but we both knew this would happen, and if that's the case, you should know that the oh. . .50 or some police outside are all going to see things my way seeing as I smelled your bullshit from a good mile away. But, just like everyone else, they fight to the end only to be brought down by the fruits of their own labor,'' Pinkie reached into a pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, staring at Zecora shaking and whimpering, the shock getting to her quicker then she thought.

One final act, she at least deserved that.

Bang! The next shot penetrated Zecora's skull, the loss of hope on her face seeming like surprise as she slowly fell over on the ground, falling silent.

''Dem's the brakes,'' Pinkie holstered her gun and walked away after sparking her cigarette, taking a long drag of it before taking her time exhaling. She walked back down the stairs and hummed a tune, her vision blurred. ''Man, I could really go easy on people from now on. But easy isn't for me. Easy is eating good food. Food is for me. Food is for me,'' Pinkie snickered to herself. It was one deal gone wrong, but a lesson learned is a profit earned, especially for her.