Deeply Damaged Dexter

by ItsAllGooood

Rating: teen
Tags: Cheerilee, Crossover, Twilight Sparkle, Applejack, Gore, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Pinkie Pie, Sex
Length: 14736

Dexter is a pony with a terrible secret. Beneath his normal exterior, there resides a Darkness...

Dexter is a pony with a terrible secret.
Beneath his normal exterior, there resides a Darkness he must continue to feed...

Dexter/MLP crossover.

Published 2012-01-23 03:00:02 UTC
Last updated 2012-10-14 19:40:15 UTC

Prologue

Prologue

Tonight’s the night. And it’s going to happen again and again. Has to happen. Manehattan was a great town. Crowded. Busy. Un-resting. A perfect habitat for a predator like me. But alas, as I walked these streets of my once luscious home, the city of street lights and skyscrapers, I knew it was time for me to leave.

Almost...

Turning at the corner, I climbed the spiral staircase, and sat at the table closest to the exit. Le cafe Paitre. Nice place. I love the food. Carrot cake. My favourite. But I’m hungry for something else tonight. I set down my saddle bags and picked up the menu as I peered over the top at my prey.

Dandy Lion. He was a tricky one to find. The beige coated, yellow maned pony blended in so well. Oh hello... ah yes the order of pink roses, let me just go around the back... yes they’ll look lovely in the front garden, especially as spring rolls in and... oh no secret, just fertile ground, and plenty of love and affection, you have to care of things of such grace a beauty... I’m sorry, I don’t normally do this but, are you free tonight?...

“Sir?”

“Ah, yes. Carrot cake and a coffee please. Black.” I donned my best smile.

“Very good sir.” The waiter left and I continued to glance over the balcony.

Dandy Lion sat across the table from slender white creature. Her mane, a flowing brilliance of cherry and scarlet. She even had a cutie mark of an arrow piercing a bright red heart, although I personally found it to be rather corny. But there was no denying she was a superb equine specimen all things considered. And Dandy Lion had wooed her over the course of a single conversation. He was quite the lady killer.

*** *** ***

They were moving. It was time for me to act. Normally this stage of the ritual was a smooth one-on-one affair. But being that he had company, I had to be inventive. That’s good though. I know it sounds cliché, but I like a challenge. Even more than I liked carrot cake... I finished my last bite, threw a few bits onto the table, and swiftly made my exit.

Outside the two were entwined, staring at each other starry-eyed. He was whispering what I could only assume to be his suave repertoire of suggestive remarks, as his play mate was starting to blush deeply, adding more red to her palette.
They were starting to walk down the street... ~Now! Do it~

“Excuse me” I called from across the road. The two turned. Best not to be too assertive. Play for sympathy. Sweet. Helpless. “Oh sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt but, I was just wondering if you could help me” I stammered as I tilted my head gently to the side, and lifting the bridge of my brow ever so slightly. “It’s just, I’m having a little trouble with my wagon, and I would really appreciate some assistance”.

Miss McBlushes was just staring on with a gently concerned look on her face, while Dandy looked more liked he was slightly annoyed.

“... if it’s not too much trouble”, I added, forcing a forced smile. Ironically I had gotten so good at acting normal, that it was actually harder for me to feign social awkwardness. But it must have worked since the filly was starting to trot over the road to me.

Dandy Lion reluctantly followed. “Red Rosemary...” he grimaced through his teeth.

She looked down at my slanted wagon, and it’s dethatched wheel. “If you could just hold it up while I slide on the wheel, I’d be ever so grateful” I spoke gently, beaming her a timid grin.

“Oh, of course we’ll help .” She looked up at her date, who had swiftly swept his feelings of contempt under the rug, and was now sporting an air of kind optimism.

“Sure”, he laughed, “wouldn’t want to you stranded on such a chilly night”. He knelt down at the side of the wagon, and slid his fore hooves under the bottom. “Stand back.”

Dandy Lion lifted the fallen side, giving a big heave as he did so, no doubt to make the feat seem more impressive to his darling acquaintance. It was however, in vein, as I had just slid an injection of animal tranquillizers into the unsuspecting thing’s neck. She hit the floor next to his hind legs, causing the beige buck to drop the wagon in shock. He spun to face me, only to meet the same fate as his dearly depleted date. The needle pierced his neck, and I slowly started to apply pressure to the plunger. I stared down at him, as his eye lids jittered and jolted in confusion, before he passed out completely.

I swiftly lifted up the fallen wagon and slid the wheel back into place. I then proceeded to load my subdued prey into the back. I glanced down at Red Rosemary.

~Bring her along. The more the merrier~

I couldn’t... she didn’t fit the golden rule.

~She’s seen your face. You can’t afford chance this~

...

*** *** ***

“Wakey wakey my little pony.” I whispered after dangling some smelling salts under the bound colt’s muzzle, causing him to burst awake.

“Whaf!!!... what the fuck?” he blurted out in panic. “What’s going on? Where the fuck am I?!” Typical response. I expected as much.

Gripping a medical scalpel in my teeth, I slowly made an incision across his right cheek. He didn’t make it easy. Even fastened down onto a table with copious amounts of duck tape head to toe, he still managed to throttle his head from side to side, making my nice, straight cut turn slightly jagged. That irritated me. But I was still able to catch a drop of his blood on a glass slide. Taking a second slide, I sandwiched the two together, watching the ugly shapeless red blob transform into a perfectly round circle...

“HEY!!” my victim’s eyes were locked right on to me, tightly screwed up in sheer unrelenting rage. He was bearing his teeth so strongly that it was causing him to snarl like an aggravated dog, “You better let me go right fucking now you little freak, or you’ll fucking regret it!!”

Or was he more like puppy?

He was panting heavily, and started to examine his surroundings with his limited view. “Is this...?” I wasn’t surprised that he didn’t notice straight away. The entire room was coated in plastic wrap after all. But there were enough familiar bumps and shapes in the room that he was able to piece it together.

“~Yes~” we replied. “Your, little ‘back room’ as it were.”

His breathing was getting heavier, but not out of fear. He was just getting angrier. He continued to observe his surroundings. His eyes darted from large red curtain hung across the wall, to a set of muddy spades, to a small table of surgical tools, to a slice of carrot cake, and finally, to us. Us in our leather apron, gardening gloves and up-turned welding mask. He just stared for while, heaving with wrath.

“No windows, no vents. Only one exit. It really is the perfect place to take care of business” we chortled, “But I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that”. He gave no response. “I’m curious. Why women? And why always earth-ponies?” we queried, “I noticed quite a bit of variety waltz into your shop, yet you showed no interest.”

He spat at us, landing a hit on our apron. “Fuck you! I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, or what kind of crazy shit you’re trying to pull!! Now CUT ME FUCKING LOOSE!!!”

We sighed. We were already starting to lose our patience with this one. Not wanting to waste anymore time, we rushed to the other side of the room, and flung the curtains open, revealing the three muddy, semi-decomposed corpses, each of which bore severe bruising around their necks. His eyes widened. “Oh my! What are the chances of bumping into all three of your exes at the same time?” we smiled, “Sorry if I’ve made this entire situation awkward for you.”

He snarled. “You fucking psycho!”

“Finally! Something we agree on” we laughed, and without missing a beat, we thrust ourselves up to him, muzzle to muzzle, clasping his head between our hooves, “But, you still haven’t answered my question!”

He said nothing.

“Seducing those women. Having them bend to your every whim. Squeezing the life out of them when they were at their most vulnerable. You must have felt so powerful.” We could feel his sweating become heavier, “Is that why it was only earth-ponies? Because you were afraid that anything that could fly away or levitate a knife into your back was out of your league? That you would realize just how weak and pathetic you really are if you ever even attempted to-”

“YES! YES I FUCKING KILLED THEM!!! SO WHAT?! They had nothing to live for so I took them for myself! They were mine! FUCKING MINE!” he resumed his thrashing back and forth.

“You really are a pathetic idiot”

He spat again.

This time in our face.

“I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!!!”

“No...” we sighed, finally losing our patience with him. “I’m going to kill you.” Not a heart-beat later, we had sliced cleanly through his right ear. It flew through the air, landing on his chest.

He stopped moving. His gaze transfixed on his severed ear. All this time, he had been unable to accept the fact that he was powerless, ignoring every indication that his death was imminent. But he couldn’t ignore that. That thing lying in front of him. It was there. It was ‘his’ ear. And at that moment, in his eyes, I could see his world shatter, revealing the terrible truth it concealed. Fear flooded his body, freezing him with it’s cold embrace.

“Do you want to know what the stupidest thing about you is?” we whispered into his ear. The one we hadn’t cut off. “You buried them all under your flower beds. And I happen to know for fact that flesh is an extremely poor fertilizer. It compromises the integrity of earth, stunting the growth of any vegetation that might happen to be growing above it.”

Dandy Lion, who was now shaking uncontrollably, slowly turned his head to face us. He finally managed to fix us a stare. There it was. In his face. Resignation. Pure Fright. The terror of knowing that he was going to get exactly what he deserved. “So I’m terribly sorry...” we said pulling down our welding mask, “for the awful things I’m about to do to your flowers.”

We stuffed a slice of carrot cake into his mouth to muffle the screams of terror that had finally managed to escape his lungs. Finally, we picked up our tools, and got to work on him.

*** *** ***

For as long as I can remember, I’ve felt empty. Hollow. Like an important part of me was violently scooped out. Over the years I’ve learned how to hide that fact. I smile. I laugh. Try my best to appear normal. And honestly, I think I’m quite good at it. But, by all accounts, it’s merely a parlour trick. There’s no warmth beneath any of my pony mimicry. I can get angry. I can be confused, or frustrated. And in moments of danger, I can even get an exhilarating sense of panic. But joy. Warmth. Connecting with others through love and friendship. These concepts are alien to me. At the very most I’m able to tolerate those around me.

It’s only when I let my darkness take control, and through ritual of my hunt that I can truly be myself. My victims, strapped and secured on my table, are the only ones who ever get a glimpse of the real me. In a bizarre way, they’re the closest friends I have.

Well, perhaps with the exception of my dark passenger. The other me. I’m not sure how, but it’s thanks to him that that I’m able to find my prey. He had an uncanny ability to sense darkness, and although he could never tell who, what or why, he always knew where. A perceptive Zen that ensures I always find a new feeding grounds for the two of us. And as long as I feed him, I can keep him at bay...

I pulled my cart to the top of hill, stopping to examine the large black gate in front mf me. ‘Hayfield Cemetery’. I wasn’t positive that coming here was the best idea, but if my instincts were right, it was the only place I could properly finish my business in Manehattan. I pushed open the gate and started to trot through the columns of gravestones. I was searching for something, and it had to be here.

When I saw Red Rosemary in that shop, talking with Dandy Lion, I couldn’t help but notice that she seemed stilted when compared to the other customers. As I walked up and down the stalls, pretending to window shop, I noticed most customers were more cheerful. Flowers brought them joy and delight. But Rosemary, she had something of a dark cloud hanging over her.

And when Dandy Lion made a move on her, I didn’t see the playful coyness that usually accompanies such transactions. There was certainly reluctance, but it ran much deeper than I would have expected. Then she made a face that I barley recognised. I had only encountered it scarcely in the past, but she was wearing this feeling on her fore-hoof.

Hope.

~There. At the back~ my friend whispered into my ear.

I made my way to the very end of column, and on the inside of the last row, I had found them. Fresh pink roses laid out in front.

Here lies Ebony
Husband. Father. Son.
May he rest in peace.

And to the left...

Here lies Scarlet Tulip
Taken from us too soon.
Her mummy misses her very much.

I pulled Red Rosemary out from the back of my cart, and gently laid her on the ground. This was where she belonged. It was irrational and pointless, but leaving her lying in the streets unconscious... No. This was much better. It had a poetic flare to it.

I exited through the gates, and started to make my way through the countryside, away from Manehattan. As I passed through the many apple trees, and blackberry brambles, I couldn’t help but contemplate what I had just done with Red

Rosemary. I’m not sure why. There was no chance she could track me down now that I had left. In fact, there was a high chance she wouldn’t even remember meeting me after that special brew of tranquilizers I gave her. I should have no feelings of doubt. And yet, I couldn’t shake that lingering thought in my head.

~You should have killed her~

But I couldn’t. I had standards. Rules. Promises I had made to the only pony who ever truly knew me...

*** *** ***

I was sitting on a hill top, with my eyes closed, feeling the icy cold air wisp through my mane. Many consider the cold to be discomforting. But personally, I always found it to be soothing. My thoughts were so clear and crystal. For a moment, I felt as if the breeze could just lift me up into the sky. Up and away from all of my sorrows and strife. That feeling ended when I heard the screams of two fillies running right past me. I plummeted back down to earth.

There I was again. Just a young colt sitting on a picnic blanket next to Foster, surrounded by other groups of ponies in similar get ups. All of them gathered together to watch the meteor shower. Families huddled together in the cold, eagerly awaiting the show. The two fillies ran past me again, as one tackled the other yelling “Tag!”

Oh no. Why was I here? Why had my dear father brought me to such a crowded area just to watch some rocks fall from the sky, when we could see it from our back garden no problem? I just hoped neither of those girls came up to me and asked me to play with them. I wasn’t fond of play ground games on the best of days, but I had a passionate hatred for that especially idiotic game ‘Tag’.

The idea of chasing people down was a sound concept in it of itself. Quite appealing even. But it was ‘never’ that simple. No, you can’t tag me, that’s a tag back. Oh no, this high up down low. You can’t get me while I’m up here. And on the off chance you did get someone, they would often burst into tears, proclaiming, I don’t want to be it!!!

Ughh, such a stupid, ‘stupid’ game. Just thinking about it was enough to make me want to-

“Dexter..?” Foster whisper to me. I looked up. “What’s on your mind son?”

I just stared at him for a while, and then looked back down with a sigh of exasperation. “Why did you bring me here dad?”

A long poignant pause followed. The night-sky coated pony rustled the back of his violet mane, before he set down his beer can, and started talking. “Son, when I was your age I lived on a farm with my aunt and uncle. There weren’t a lot of other folks around, so I didn’t really have any friends.”

Normally I would be annoyed by such a digression, but I knew my father well enough to know that he was going somewhere with this.

“All I ever had was Eddie. A German Sheppard. I would feed him, wash him. Walk him every day.” His voice was growing more sombre with every word. “’He was my best friend. Until one day when he didn’t seem to be acting normally... Auntie pulled me aside... telling me not to go near him. Uncle took Eddie behind the shed. I heard a bang... and only uncle came back...”

He turned to face me, leaning in closely. “Taking a life is a terrible thing to do.” he said to me solemnly.

“But...” he added, “There are some ponies out there that deserve it... some that ‘need’ it. Do you know why I’m telling you this son?”

“...No.” I did though. I had suspected he’d know for a while. I had tried to be stealthy, but my capers to Cindy Lou’s chicken coup had yielded some not-so-subtle chirping sounds from our back garden.

“I found them Dexter.... beneath the tool shed.” I turned my gaze to the ground, unable to face him. “How long Dexter? How long have you been feeling these... urges?”

“...For as long as I can remember... it hasn’t gotten bad until a few weeks ago.”

Foster nodded slowly. “And... have you ever wanted to kill something bigger than a chicken?”

Pure silence. The families and fields had evaporated away. It was just me and my father, in a quiet little bubble.

“...Yes” I confessed.

His next question came quicker, this time very stern. “Why haven’t you?”

“Because... I didn’t think you’d like it. A voice in my head makes it seem like the right thing to do... no... like a fun thing to do... but I was worried that if I did, you would think I was a monster-”

“Dexter...” he sighed, placing a hoof on my shoulder, “You’re not a monster... you’re just... hurt. Something happened to you to make you this way. You don’t remember it, but it damaged you... and it wasn’t your fault.”

I kept my head down, “What am I going to do?”

Foster leaned in closer. His words were spoken with an air of complete sincerity. “Dexter... like I said. There are some ponies that deserve it. And all we have to do is find them. But until then, you’re going to have to learn how to live with others. To blend in and act normal.”

“How?”

“Don’t worry Dex. I’ll help you. And together... we can fix this.”

I remained still, trying my best to take in the weight of the conversation I had just had. My concentration was interrupted by a gentle tap on my back.

It was one of the fillies from earlier.

“Do you want to play with us?” she squeaked.

I was reluctant, but a hoof-wave from Foster compelled me to oblige.

“Um... sure” I said, “I just...er... I don’t want to play tag. I think it’s stupid. But... if you want to play something else... that would be OK.”

“Oh, um, OK then” she gleamed, “How abooout... hide and seek? We can play it in the trees over there.”

I contemplated. “Sure.” And then to avoid arguments, “I’ll be ‘it’ first.”

The two fillies and I were making our way into the woods, when Foster called over to me. “Have fun son,” he said. His tone was very deep and serious. He wasn’t just wishing me well. There was something else in there. Have fun son... or else you’ll look off. Blend in. Be normal...

I smiled, or, I tried, and galloped off after my two new ‘friends’ to play.

*** *** ***

Foster. He always knew just what to say to me to lead me along the right path, even when my dark passenger suggested otherwise. I sometimes wonder what my life would have been like without him. His guidance and love were the only things that kept me tethered to the earth....

Even now, I struggle to abide by his golden rule. The soul pearl of wisdom that made it possible for me to lead a somewhat decent life. Never kill the innocent. And I won’t. Not ever. And while I’m not capable of loving him as a son, I respected him more than anypony else in the world.

*** *** ***

I had been travelling the whole night, my dark passenger leading me by the reigns. It was time for him to sniff out my next local. And he was getting near. Which was strange, because I seemed to be approaching a small rural town. Which couldn’t be right. All my past dens had been situated in densely populated cityscapes. The type of places where there was enough of an economy to necessitated upper and lower class. This place looked practically Amish.

And yet, I could feel it. Darkness radiating from the grounds. So thick and strong that it was actually starting to make my muscles spasm. By the time I had made it to the entrance sign, I was drenched with a cold sweat.

I had to get a grip.

I just stopped and breathed for a few minutes. Or maybe longer. By the time I had calmed down, dawn had passed and it was already morning. I lifted up my head and read the sign.

Welcome to Ponyville

This might complicate things somewhat. My usual methods of switching homes relied on the town being booming. It allowed me to go unnoticed in the crowd. I was just another pony, looking for work. The key was to be good, but not too good. Get an internship. Work for a few weeks. Be friendly with the others, but nothing more than that.

Then give them the whole second thoughts routine. Thanks for the opportunity, but I just feel this line of work isn’t for me. I’m in and out before anyone even has time to remember me.

But a town this small and compact. People were going to notice me. Maybe this was a bad idea. I should just find another place to stay... only I was getting tired.

~Go on. Just a pitt-stop~

Just a short one, I thought to myself. It was crucial that I find a new city as soon as possible. I could go extended periods without feeling the need to... do what I do. But I couldn’t leave anything to chance. Settling into a new place was the trickiest part of my life-style, and I didn’t want to do it while I was deprived. Who knows what I could be capable of when staved off my favourite hobby for too long.

I’ll just find some place to stay for the night. I needed directions but it was still fairly early, and not many ponies were about yet. I just needed somepony to talk to. As luck would have it, one was skipping my way. Here we go, I thought. The old friendly traveller routine. I had done this bit a thousand times. A dash of charm, with a pinch of diffidence, and you had yourself a nervous newcomer.

She was right in front of me now. “Er, hello,” I stammered. She stopped and starred. “Sorry, my name is Dexter. I was just wondering if-”

The pony proceeded to snap into the air rather suddenly, breathing in a huge strenuous gasp as if she had just seen a ghost. Before I could even take in what was happening, she shot off so quickly I ‘swear’ it left my mane blowing in the wind.

“OK,” I thought aloud, “that’s never happened before...”

Author's note: I'm new at this, but give it to me straight.

Chapter 1: Dexter Dances

Chapter 1: Dexter Dances

Chapter 1: Dexter Dances

We, as ponies, are social creatures. It’s a trait many creatures share. Talking together. Eating together. We’re evolved to enjoy one another’s company. Ponies that lived in harmony with others survived and lived on. And yet, beyond that simple instinct, there lies something else. A sense that the bonds we form mean more. At least, that’s what I’m told. I’d have more luck counting every star in the sky than I would of comprehending love and affection for a pony.

As a young buck I was often forced to endure the trials of romance. Foster said that it was important for me to learn. He was right, but that didn’t make it any less of a chore. One of my first dates was with a unicorn called Stringy. The cyan blue unicorn had asked me to the ‘Bucking Ball’. Hardly a ball really. Just a few disco lights in the school hall, a table with a few stacks of plastic cups next to a punch bowl. Initially I turned her down. Why would I want to go? And why with her? But when I told Foster about it, he insisted I chase her down and apologise. That was fun. I especially liked the part when she burst into tears and I couldn’t understand a damn word she was saying. Eventually I was able to patch things up, and I was set to meet her that night.

Foster was adjusting my bowtie, and diligently checking my mane for knots and tangles. I felt stupid. All this trouble just to impress some filly. We hardly even knew each other. Then again, if she knew the first thing about me I doubt she’d even want to be near me, let alone ask me to a dance.

Foster hoofed me a bunch of flowers. “You ready?”

“No!” I answered truthfully.

“Come on now Dex.”

“I can’t stand social gatherings” I whined, discarding the flowers to the floor. “Trying to act naturally. Being surrounded by that many ponies. Question my every move I make” I hung my head “It’s exhausting.”

“That’s why you need to start learning now” he asserted, placing the bouquet back in my hoof. “Buck up. You’ll be fine. Just smile, and try to be nice. Act like you enjoy her company.”

“But how? Talking to her is just frustrating. She’s so indirect, and I can never work out what’s going on in her head.”

“Welcome to the world of dating Dexter” my dear father chuckled. I didn’t appreciate how lightly he was taking this. Seeing my disgruntled reaction, he added “Look, it doesn’t matter if you mess up and things get awkward. It’s perfectly normal for a young colt to be nervous on his first date. But remember, she’s just as eager to gain your approval too, so don’t just give up right off the bat if you say or do something wrong. Learn from it, and try to do better.”

I took a few seconds to collect my thoughts. This was all a very hard pill to swallow, but my father was right. I needed to do this. “OK… I’ll try as hard as I can.”

Foster swung a hoof around me, nearly messing up my mane he had so thoroughly attended to. “Good” he said, leading me out the door, “And who knows, maybe you’ll have some fun.”

*** *** ***

“I’m in Hell.”

“What?” came a barely audible voice. But I wasn’t listening.

They were all lies. There were no bottomless pits of fire or benevolent horde. There weren’t even any splayed open corpses hanging from chains to spruce the place up a bit. Hell, was just being sat in a dark room with disco lights swirling past your eyes, next to a pony you were morally obligated to talk to. And I had ‘nothing’ to say at all. It was like I had bought a nuclear reactor with no instruction manual, and all I could do was sweat as I guessed at button presses and waited for the whole thing to melt down and explode.

“Um, Dexter… are you OK?”

“What?... oh yeah… great...”

“…”

“… Do you… want some more punch?”

“…no thanks. I’ve got plenty from the last three times you went to get me some.”

Damn it. Think Dexter, think! I looked around. All the other couples were either dancing, or talking and making each other laugh. I couldn’t dance, so I had to start talking. But about what? Nothing was springing to mind. I wasn’t the best conversationalist at the best of times, and this damn music wasn’t… wait. “So, what do you think to this music?”

“It’s OK I guess” she answered eagerly. She was starting to move more. Had I struck a gold mine? “I’m not really into this techno stuff though.”

There was a pause. I could feel another silence coming on. “… um, no?”

“No, I’m… I actually kind of like the classical stuff” this was good, keep going “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like modern stuff too, but I was dragged to this string quartet concert once and it really struck a chord with me and… oh…hehehe.”

What? Laughing? I tried to join in. Thank goodness the music was so loud, because I doubt my laughter actually sound remotely gleeful. But she was talking. A lot. This made things so much easier. All I have to do now is listen. Or, not even that. Just smile and nod. Smile and-

“and so that’s how I got my nickname. So? Dexy. What kind of music do you like?”

...Hayseeds. It was my turn now. I cycled through the recesses of my mind. I didn’t hate music, but I wasn’t very knowledgeable about it. Should I just say that? Or would that just lead to more awkward silence? But if I didn’t say something soon then-

The music stopped. The DJ got on mike, “And here’s one from that pop/rock sensation sweeping Equestria, Hay Ocean!” A song started to play.

“Well… what are the odds? I love Hay Ocean” I proclaimed, bearing a perhaps ‘too’ teethy smile.

“Really?”

“Yes…” Keep. Talking. “I, love them… I’ve heard all of their albums.”

Stringy looked confused. “But, they only have one?”

I grit my teeth. “Yes… I’ve just… listened to it so many times it feels like there’s been more…”

“I see. And what’s your favourite song?”

“…This one?..”

“Oh…”

“…”
“…”
No!

“…”

Not! Again!

Stringy heartily guzzled down one of her cups of punch. I sprung to my hooves, much to my acquaintance’s shock.

“In fact… I love this song so much, that… I have, to just… shake my haunches right now” I grabbed her by the fore-hooves “Come on!”

We were up on the dance floor fast. She was smiling, but even I could tell it was a nervous one. Still, she was starting to dance. Now all I had to do was figure it out myself. It couldn’t be harder than talking right? It was just moving… so… why wasn’t I just moving? I started to bob. Up and down. Up and down. And I continued to bob for the duration of the song.
I wasn’t sure what was more gruelling. The deathly silence from before or this semi-rhythmic progression of height shifts. My, ‘moves’, were pathetic enough that I could practically see a mild case of depression creep over my dance partner.

Then, inspiration struck. Moves? Moves! I might not be able to dance, but I was learning martial arts. And that was kind of like dancing right? I lifted myself to hind legs and struck a defensive stance. I then proceeded to punch the air.

Punch.

Kick.

Strike.

“Um Dexter?..”

Yes this was working. I just had to keep going. I continued to vigorously strike and kick the air in front of me.

Punch.

Swipe.

Uppercut.

Kick.

Swing.

Spear.

Kick.

Swipe. Pun-

I felt a thud. I had made contact with something. Or someone. Slowly, I opened my eyes. Stringy was in front of me. And her muzzle. It was all… Red.

Crimson rivers ran from her nostrils to her mouth.

It shimmered and shone in the gentle glow of disco lights.

This was the first time I had ever made another pony bleed.

And it was… just…

~Glorious.~

A large smile crawled its way onto our face.

~The colour. The consistency. The oh so many wonders of blood.~

A loud record scratch broke my trance. Refocusing, I could see tears streaming down Stringy’s face. She whimpered meekly, and galloped as fast as she could to the exit. It was at this point I also noticed that the music had stopped, and everyone else in the room was looking at me.

I left too.

Well, Foster was right. This had certainly been a learning experience.

Today I learned that you should never tell a lie you can’t follow up. Keep it simple, and as truthful as possible, or it may just come back to bite you in the worst way possible.

Also.

DEXTER. DOESN’T. DANCE.

*** *** ***

Morning was settling in and more ponies were starting to fill the streets. I was about to pick another pony to approach, when a vivid magenta mare caught my attention. She had tripped on a rock and planted face first into the dirt, leaving her dazed and bewildered, and the contents of her grocery bags spilling out across the floor. Well, I knew an ice-breaker when I saw one. And hopefully this pony wasn’t as airborne as the last.

“Excuse me miss” I called over to her as she rampantly scrambled to recompose herself “You look like you could use some help.”

“Oh, no. Don’t worry about it” she assured me, still sporting an unrelentingly cheerful smile “I just had a little tumble.”

Unbuckling myself, I trotted over to her, knelt down and started to pick things up. “You sure that was a little tumble? I can almost see the imprint of your face in the ground.” She let out a coy giggle. “Why on earth were you carrying so much in the first place anyway?”

The mare refilled one of her grocery bags before bashfully straightening her ruffled pink mane, “I was just trying to get all my errands done in one go I suppose. I was low on food, but I’ve got a school project planned for my little... I’m sorry, we haven’t even been introduced.”

“Oh... of course” I said extending out a hoof. “Dexter.”

“Cheerilee” she replied, returning my shake. “So, what brings you to Ponyville?”

A murderous darkness inside my head guided me here with the sole purpose of hunting down another monster like me, strapping them to a table, and cutting them up into pieces...

“Just passing through” I shrugged. “I was actually hoping you could give me some directions. I’m looking for somewhere to stay.”

“Oh, well, I know just the place. A cosy bed and breakfast just a few streets away. It’s actually on my way. I’d be happy to show you there.”

“Well, if you insist. But you’ll have to let me take those bags for you. I wouldn’t want to see a lovely filly like you land flat on your face again.”

“Making more face imprints in the ground” she laughed.

“Elegant as the imprints may be” I added. Cheerilee let out a burst of giggles and flirtatiously waved a hoof at me. The mare was easily flattered. Or maybe I really was just that charming. In either case, I had certainly come a long way from punching ponies in the face.

I strapped myself into my cart and gestured down the street. “Lead the way.”

*** *** ***

The cheerful filly strode forward, just a few hoofs ahead of me.

“So Dexter, where are you from?”

Oh goodie. Question time. Just remember the rule of thumb. Keep it simple. “Everywhere really. I’m always travelling. Can’t stay still really.”

“Is that so? Are you a performer of sorts?”

“Yes. You should come see my show some time. There’s this great part where I juggle a pack of flaming lions” I chortled.

“Juggling Lions? Really?.” Cheerilee grinned. “ Wouldn’t their manes tickle your muzzle? You’d sneeze and drop them all over the place.”

“Years of practice, and a muzzle of steel. The trickiest part was supplying the lions. I had to buy them in bulk y’know.”

We both shared a short laugh, before silence eventually set in. The magenta mare turned her head and shot me a gentle smirk, as if to say ‘but seriously’.

“I’m a jack of all trades if I’m being entirely honest. I’ve never been able to stay in one place, or hold onto a single job for too long. Still looking for that special calling I guess.”

“Then how do you explain that?” Cheerilee asked pointing a hoof directly at my flank.

“Oh” I said, “so you noticed. I work out.”

She smiled widely and face-hoofed, shaking her head from side. “You know what I mean,” she laughed “The medical syringe. With a cutie mark like that, I’d have expected you to be a doctor of some kind.”

“That’s a little misleading. For a while I was training to be a doctor, but, I never quite followed through with it. And I guess no one told my flank.”

“That’s too bad” my magenta mare sighed. “What exactly made you stop?” I whinnied. The filly was so friendly, and she certainly didn’t mind getting personal. “If you don’t mind me asking” she added.

“To be honest, I don’t think it was ever my true calling” I spoke, slowly and softly. “It’s just… my father was a doctor and, he died when I was quite young. He was a good pony. Always trying to help anypony in need. But after he was gone… I thought becoming a doctor could help me stay close to him. Maybe it could help make me a better pony like he was.”

That wasn’t a lie. Foster was gone, and with him, my moral tether. I was a beast that he tried to make a pony. And all he could manage to do was break even, and make me a tidy monster. I strived to be more, but, it was a frivolous pursuit. I am what I am. And studying pony anatomy and injury was perhaps the stupidest way to try and remedy that ailment.

“I didn’t mean to pry.” I refocused and saw that Cheerilee now had a very grim look on her face. “I… I’m sorry if I brought up a touchy subject.

Well done Dexter. Looks like you’re still a connoisseur of bestowing depression upon happy fillies. You have actually made a pony called ‘Cheerilee’ sad. “It’s fine, really” I reassured her. “Tell me what it is exactly you do. Are you a flower shop owner or something?”

~Because I really love those~

“I’m actually a school teacher.” I raised an eyebrow, failing to see the connection. “It’s a metaphor. They represents the my desire to see my students grow and blossom” she smiled. “I suppose a travelling man like you wouldn’t really be up for a job working with foals.”

“You’d be surprised” I replied sincerely “I love kids. So full of hope and potential.” So innocent and pure… unsullied by the darkness of the world… something I never had. “And I bet they’re lucky to have such a caring mare as their teacher.”
Cheerilee beamed. But that smile hastily transformed into the grim looks from earlier. “I try my hardest, but… things have been difficult recently. With all the… well…”

“What?” I asked.

“Oh… never mind… Ah, here we are” she said pointing a hoof.

The Bed and Breakfast was a modest setup. A small patio with about half-a-dozen tables, in front of a serving window and entrance to the check-in desk. Around the side, a staircase led up the second floor. A balcony stretched across both sides of the upper section. The building had about 6 rooms in total, 3 along each side. Hopefully I could get a room along the side facing the alleyway. If I ever needed to sneak in or out, the fire exit would make it extremely convenient for me to... wait... what was I thinking? It’s not like I was actually staying here for long...

“Um, Dexter” Cheerilee called “If you could just pass my bags please.”

I shook my head and recomposed myself. “Sorry” I said, trotting over to my wagon and pulling out her groceries with my teeth. I planted them in front of her, and went back to get her saddlebags. I couldn’t help but notice how stuffed they were. Huge lumps stuck out of them for every angle. It actually felt strangely similar to… no. That was absurd.

“He-arh”

“Thank you Dexter” she said, taking her bags from my muzzle, and throwing them over her haunches. “It was lovely meeting you. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

“I won’t be staying for long” I sighed shaking my head “but thank you Cheerilee.”

We exchanged hoof waves, and I watched her trot away, until she disappeared around the corner.

I turned and set my gaze on the cozy-looking Inn. The routine. Just stick to the routine.

I won’t be staying for long…

*** *** ***

I sat at the café table, sipping at my coffee and reading the paper, skimming the pages. The front page had Economic Expansion right across the top, featuring articles on the growing businesses, from construction work, to the fashion industry. Little Ponyville was on the threshold of becoming quite the boomtown.

The waitress brought me my meal. I didn’t look, up trying to ignore the incessant rattling of the dinner tray.

“Thank you” I whinnied half-heartedly, turning the page.

Have you seen any of these ponies? An entire page of reported disappearances, with no noticeable connection. Old and young. Bucks and mares. It appears my little dark companion was right. This town might look harmless, but it held some secrets. In that respect, it’s not dissimilar to me.

The waitress brought someone else their coffee, the rattling becoming increasingly more persistent. I grit my teeth and continued reading, trying my best to stifle my shaking hoof.

Muleami Metro investigate Baltimare Bludgeoning. The greatest detective agency in all of Equestria. So brilliant they were often out-sourced to other cities all over the land to assist in the most explicit of cases. Their success rate, 96%. A serial killer’s worst nightmare. Or greatest thrill if you’re into that kind of thing.

Rattle. Rattle. Rattle.

I slammed down my paper. “For Cekestia’s sake!”

The waitress immediately shot me a glance. In an instance, my anger petered out completely, and was replaced by a somewhat dumbfounded confusion. I had assumed from her chronic shaking that the mare had been well into her twilight years. But the waitress filly looked young. She donned a fresh and full sunshine coat, and a curly locked salmon mane to boot. But her face looked like it had been trampled beneath a herd of stampeding buffalo. Charcoal bags hung low from her eyes and she just couldn’t seem to stay in one spot. Jittering and shaking, barley managing to keep the contents of the tray steady. She looked just so very… ill.

It was at this point I noticed the waitress wasn’t the only one that had noticed my outburst, with half the tables now aiming their sights right at me.

“… for, Celestia’s sake… why can’t the Fillydelphia Diamond Dogs keep it together. This is their 3rd loss this season...” Everyone continued about their business. I slumped back into my chair and hid behind my paper, wondering how that pitiful excuse for a redirect actually passed the social fluidity exam.

*** *** ***

“Well howdy there. Nightingale’s the name. Welcome to Snoozy Chewzy. Finest bed and breakfast in all of Ponyville. Y’lookin to shack up?”

I probably should have made some small talk, but I was much too distracted and tired to converse with such an energetically friendly pony.

“Just, one night please.”

“That’ll 42 bits. If you could just sign here.”

Signing in was always fun. I get to pick a new name each time. The sensible thing to do is to choose something normal, but, since I didn’t plan on staying long, I figured anything would do. Quill between my teeth I began to scribble.

“There we go. Welcome to our establishment Mister… Bob..?” she raised a suspecting eye brow at me, then added a grin. She knew it was fake, but she found it… endearing? “Enjoy your stay. You can park your cart in the alleyway” she proclaimed, adding a hearty cough.

Trotting up the stairs, I just couldn’t seem to shake the waitress from my mind. What was wrong with me? I shouldn’t be having these thoughts and urges so soon. Perhaps staying here was a mistake, but it was a little too late to be having second thoughts now.

Room number 4. I lunged my key into the door and twisted it, tearing the door open, and warm noon day light spilled into way into the room. Practically the size of my last apartment, but considerably less empty. Rugs, wardrobes and draws. Back in Manehattan I owned a single solitary mattress that lay in the centre of my floor. Simple and tidy. I liked it. This room was… homely.

I dumped my chest into the drawer bellow it, slung my bags under the bed and threw myself onto the frilly pink mattress. Lying on my back, I gazed at the perfectly white ceiling, and tried to drift. But my little friend wouldn’t seem to stop pestering me.

A young waitress, with a shaky tray. So what? She was probably new, and was just having a nervous first day.

Nothing she couldn’t solve with a good… night’s… sleep…

*** *** ***

Ponies.

Ponies all around me.

The void is white.

They’re white.

Almost too hard to see.

But I need to see them. I need to…

I lunge at one, and try to grab it, but as soon as I touch it, I tear it open, and it falls. From its gash pours a river of red petals. The others stop and stare in shock with their smooth faceless heads. They look at the dead pony, then at me. The pitch black pony. They fear me, and flee. I pursue them; forelegs spread wide open, screaming at the top off my lungs.

I grab another. Down. Reach for another. Down.

Now they’re not running. They’ve turned on me, and there are more of them. A vast sea of them swarm me from all directions. And as they grab me, I start to bleed jet black petals. As more of them grab me, brush against me, look at me, I grow weaker. But somewhere, among the wall of white, I catch a glimpse of something. Just a little speck behind the flailing hoofs and tails… I see…

Another. Another black pony.

Like me.

But it’s too late. I fade before I can even cry out. And all of me spills onto the floor…

*** *** ***

Awake.

And… outside apparently. Upright even, and leaning forward on the front balcony overlooking the street.

This… was new. I started to wonder what this place was doing to me, but my line thought came to a halt when I caught glimpse of some-pony who looked to be taking an evening stroll. And who else but my vibrating friend from earlier. She happened to live right across the road from the Inn. And right now, she wasn’t inside her house.

~Go~

It didn’t take long for me to realize this was a bad idea, as I was unprepared, on unfamiliar terrain, and I had taken up sleep walking so I was clearly not in a very sound mental state, but apparently it took even less time for me to slither down the stairs, across the street, and up to the front door. Just a simple twist. Click. And open.

I stood there in the doorway, considering my options. I probably should have left, but whatever force, dark passenger or otherwise that had overcome me, would not permit me to leave.

The living room was messy. Really messy. Both the sofa and chair were filthy with black muck. Dirt and hoof prints riddled the carpet, and there was a bowl of old food with flies buzzing around it on a small dining table along with a wrench and a few discarded cans of germ spray and air freshener. That probably explained why the house smelt like a cross between a dead body and a bouquet of roses.

I turned to the kitchen. Somehow it was worse. There was old rotting food all along the counter, and the floor boarding gave a tortured creak with every hoof I planted. And I had dealt with dead bodies, but I wouldn’t touch the scummy rug in the centre with my back leg. I went around it.

And that’s when I saw it. The back door hidden in the shadows. I had no time to waste. Whatever was behind there I had to find it fast. She could be back any second. Reaching out, I grabbed it by the door knob and threw it wide open. It was a broom closet. And it was the cleanest room in the house.

So there was nothing sinister about this filly. She was just an immeasurable slob. I shut the door and turned to make my way out. I was halfway through the kitchen, feeling foolish and somewhat disappointed, but without thinking I had trodden right on the scummy rug, and I just froze up. Not out of disgust, although I was certainly feeling that from the sheer texture of the unsanitary carpentry beneath my hoof.

But it was what I heard that caught my attention. Not a creak. But a thud…
I pulled the rug from the floor, and set my sights on the wooden door beneath me. I grabbed the handle and a chill went down my spine. Slowly, I pulled the door open, and in doing so, released a gust of frosty air that burst right out at me, tickling my face.

A pony, was staring at me. At least, a pony’s head was. It just stared right off into space with its frosty eyes. Behind it were stacks of hooves and haunches. Barrels and organs. I should have galloped off at that moment. But in all honesty, I was enjoying it too much. The frozen flesh glistened like diamond stars against a night sky. The limbs were hacked off jaggedly, not nice clean cuts like mine, but still. How cathartic it was to just take them in. The last thing I felt before I passed out, was immense elation, another shiver down my spine and what I what I can only assume was a wrench slamming against the back of my head.

*** *** ***

I tried to open my eyes. They flittered open and shut as the surrounding light pierced my skull and the blurry world that surrounded me gradually came into focus. As my other senses came out of remission, it became apparent to me that I had been bound. My eyes sharpened, and I could see I was on the living room floor, with both of my fore-hooves shackled together by a pair of cuffs connecting to the ground by a lengthy chain. Then I saw ‘her’. Ahead of me. Perched on the edge a chair. The sunshine coated filly from earlier, staring me down through the fringe of her hair, with a gleamingly sharp kitchen knife in the clasp of her hoof.

She was static. Frozen so perfectly still I could have sworn she was a mere mannequin. The illusion was only broken as the most insidious of grins crawled it’s way around her jaw, followed by a contemplative rolling of her tongue. Her eyes, narrow and bleeding with anticipation, remained fixated on me, as she slowly lowered herself from the chair and began approaching me. The giddy filly stabbed the floor right in front of my head, crossed her arms and leant forward on the hilt, looming over me like an owl waiting to swoop down over a field mouse.

It was all too clear to me that I was going to have to be extremely careful if I wanted to get out of here in one piece. I may not have a great sense of peril, but it didn’t take a genius to tell me I was neck deep in it.

“Funny” the waitress pondered aloud “usually by this point there’s a little more panicking.” She lowered herself closer to me, “What’s wrong? Too scared to scream?”

~She wants to think she’s in control. That she has power over you~

~Show her she doesn’t~

“You want me to beg?” She flinched, somewhat taken aback. “For me to scream and plead, and say I’ll give you anything you want if you let me go?... sorry but I’m not in the mood.” She looked down on me, confused and frustrated. Her grin had flopped into a gritted frown. Perfect.

“You’re not really in a position to making jokes like that!” she spat, pressing her knife up against my cheek.

~She wants you to cower. As long as you don’t, she won’t make a single cut~

“You think that’s threatening? I’ve seen foals playing dress up that were more intimidating than you. Hell, get that head out of the freezer and prop it up next to me. At least the some of the frost might make me shiver a little.”

The peach haired pony scrunched up her muzzle and stood her full height, scowling down at me.

I smiled back at her, and she scowled even harder. This was almost too easy. Playing her was “Wait…”

I blinked.

She tilted her head gently to the side, and examined me carefully. Something in her head seemed to click, and he blood thirsty beam hastily returned. “You were at the café, weren’t you?” I tried to keep a fixed gaze, but I couldn’t hold back and eye twitch. Her smile grew even wider. “You knew didn’t you. You knew about me… and you just walked in here?” she threw her head back released a floodgate of cackles. “I’ve had to do some pretty sneaky things to get people here, but none of them have been dumb enough to just come in on their own.” She knelt down, and giggled relentlessly. “You’re my little lemming pony.”

I grit my teeth and supressed a growl.

“But how did you know? I may get the shakes now and again, but no one has ever suspected me before.” She gave me another look over. In an instance she sprung back up, laughing even harder “You. You’re like me aren’t you.”

“What?! No!”

“Don’t lie. I can see it in your face. You want to rip me open don’t you.”

I was desperate now. “You have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“Oh really… tell me… what sport do the Fillydelphia Diamond Dogs even play?”

“…”

“Don’t know… oh well, it was a nice try. For a moronic lemming like you at least.”

I thrust myself at her, but my chains stopped me as I was inches short of reaching her, and I hit the floor hard.

~KILL HER~

The filly gave a victorious chortle.

~Make her regret taunting you~

“You said you weren’t in the mood for screaming” she sneered raising her knife up above her head “lets see if we can change that.” My chest set aflame as the blade entered my side, and I let out a tortured grunt. “Don’t worry, I won’t hit anything important” she spoke smoothly, bringing her face up to mine. “I want you alive after all. It’s so much more fun to peal the flesh from your bones when it’s nice, and, fresh!”

~CUT HER UP!!!~

I thrust the front of my face into her muzzle. She flew back and stumbled, blood gushing from her nostrils. She dabbed her face with one hoof and looked at her own blood, with enraged contempt. In a heartbeat she refocused on me, and screamed as she lunged at me with the knife once more. But I was too quick for her. I moved to one side and stretched out my. In an instance, she tumbled right over them, and hurtled forward onto the floor. The murderous filly recovered quickly and spun around for a second strike, but I was ready. As she turned, I caught her in my shackles. Around her neck. Right between my hooves.

And I began to squeeze.

~Harder~

The filly gasped out in terror, clutching the chains around her throat with one hoof and randomly flailing a knife behind her with the other.

~Keep going. Rid the world of her consciousness!~

She had managed to knick me a couple of times in the side, but she was starting to lose her strength now.

~That’s it, just a little more~

“…please… stop…”

“… ~No~…”

We squeezed a little tighter… and within seconds… she was gone.

This wasn’t the end though. This whole incident had been messy. Spontaneous.

And we needed some closure.

*** *** ***

After scoping out the street for passers-by, I swiftly carried the body across to the Inn. I stumbled half way, succumbing to the burning pain of my gash. I had thrown on a winter saddle to help keep it shut, but the adrenaline in my blood must have been thinning out, because the burning was only getting more intense. But I pushed through the pain, and carried on to my cart. Pulling back a sheet, I tossed my corpse into the back and covered it back up.

I didn’t want to risk cutting up the body in my room. If I didn’t get caught going up the stairs, the fumbling in the night could attract attention. Instead I would have to do the deed out of town, and bury her out in the countryside. I’d need a lamp if I was going to work in the darkness. And I still had to get my tool chest. I briskly made my way up the steps and up to my door.

I threw it open and flicked on the light. Maybe if I hurried “SURPRISE!!!!” I could… “Hey there mister”… wait… what was… who are all these… “Oh look, he can’t even express himself he’s so surprised by his super-fantabulous-most-extravagangious-absolutey-fun-grandious welcome-to-Ponyville-Pinkie-PARTY!!!”

I… I didn’t…

“It’s nice to see you again. My name’s Pinkie Pie. What’s yours?” asked a confusing pink blur.

“I…Wahhh…?”

“Iwah… that’s a funny name.”

This. Was not. Good…

Author Notes: This took me longer to write than it should.
I’m gonna try and do the next one quicker.
Again, I’m new at writing, so feedback is appreciated.

Chapter 2: Desperate Departure

Chapter 2: Desperate Departure

I’m not sure how much time had actually passed. My body, stricken with shock, remained frozen under the archway, one hoof still on the doorknob and my hind legs both still lingering on the outside. A dozen? No more. A room filled with Ponies, the forefront of which was the aerodynamic blur from earlier.

“Well, don’t just stand there like a silly stilly static Stu” she blurted out as she danced on over to me, a party horn hanging from her mouth and producing confetti from seemingly no-where. This, Pinkie Pie, was now mere inches away from my face. “It’s time to PARTY!”

I backed out the door and slammed it behind me, upon which I spun and slammed my back against it. I just stayed there, eyes tightly shut. Chest heaving. All the while the sounds of restless and slightly bedazzled party guests niggling their way through the wooden cracks. I had to stay calm. Think clearly and carefully about what I was going to do next.

So, I have a dead body lying in my wagon. A burning gash in my side barley held together by a leather saddle. And a room full of ponies between me and the tools I need to fix both of those things. If anypony finds the body, I’m done. If anyone sees my wound, I’m done. And if anybody stumbles across my little collection of tools, I’m done.

I clasped my head in frustration. The inventory wasn’t exactly reassuring. Gritting my teeth, I slumped forward and leaned myself over the balcony, trying my best to stay focused.

Option 1.

Run. Saddle up, drag the body out of town and deal with it once I’ve put a good distance between myself and this personal hell… no, that’s not an option. Even considering I make it out without being stopped or passing out, it raises far too much suspicion. “Why come to town and just leave?” And “what are all these sharp pointy objects doing under his bed?”

Option 2.

Get them out of there. Cause a scene, throw a tantrum, start a small fire. Anything to flush the room clean and compose myself in private. It could leave a lasting negative impression, but what does it matter if I’m not planning on sticking around. Then again, if I force everyone to leave at once, there’s a chance one of them could notice the body.

Option 3.

I… I was staring into a pair of cyan eyes.

“Hey!”

I jolted back, almost falling right on my spine. But somepony caught me, and I was now hanging between their fore-hooves. Looking up, it was the same set of cyan eyes.

“But you… you were just down their… how could you be there?...and… how did you even get out here?.. the door didn’t—

“You ask waaaaay too many questions. The only important one though, is what are you doing out here, when you should be outside shakin’ dem haunches?”

“Listen… Pinkie Pie. I appreciate this… wonderful surprise welcome, but... I would really like it if you could leave.”

“What?” she whimpered.

“Yeah, just… go. I really don’t want this right now.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” I stumbled, letting out a small cough… wait! “I’m… Ah-choo!.. feeling under the weather.”

“Oh my, with what?”

“I *cough* don’t know. I think *cough* it might be the Pony-pox.”

“Oh no!” she gasped, before darting back inside.

Slightly confused, but still committed, I leaned in and shouted inside. “I would just, ah-choo, really hate to spread it so if we could just—

My words were cut short by a jettison of water.

“There we go” giggled the gleeful gumball haired pony “you should be better in no time.”

“What?” I queried through my teeth.

“Cold water. The only treatment for Pony-pox. I heard so somewhere anyway… anyway anyway, come on inside Dexter. There’s so many ponies inside for you to meet. There’s no need to be shy.”

“Shy? Pinkie I’m not shy, I just… I would really…”

“Look… Dexter

Sometimes you feel like you are all alone.

“...What are you doing?”

All by yourself, but there’s no need to groan.

“No, really. What are you—

Cuz there’s ponies all around you.

Just waiting to connect.

Come on now Dex, get mingling,

Cuz here you can expect—

And with perfect rhythmic timing, she had yanked me right back into the thick of it.

To laugh it up in Ponyville,

so many folks to meet.

At sugar cube corner, you’ll find the Cakes,

They’ll whip you up some tasty treats.

And if you get some mail, you just might run right into Derpy.

Just don’t mention muffins, or she’ll get a little slurpy…

Zecora may seem scary,

But she’s as friendly as can be.

You could read some books with Twilight,

In her library,

That is a tree.

Go buckin’ with the Apples,

Or sit in the park with Bon Bon.

Rainbow Dash, Cheerilee, Rarity, Can’t you see.

The list goes on,

And on,

And On!!!

So now,

Get ready Dexter,

For what comes next, A

Very special,

Super thrill,

Mega-awesome,

Welcome to,

Poooonyyyyy-Viiiiiiiiilllle

YEAH!!!

… Option 3. Endure the party, blend in, and later on try to slip out this hell hole without anyone noticing.

*** *** ***

It must’ve been hours before I found a window of opportunity, as I was pulled from circle to circle of ponies, all eager to meet the new colt in town. Having to make small talk and fain raunchy party fever was difficult enough without having to suppress the fire-some pain in my side. But I carried on, pushing through.

“To meet a new face is always a treat. And what a lovely party for us to meet.”

They talked, I replied. They spoke of themselves, and I asked chirpy follow-up questions about how their flower stand was doing, or how many push-ups did they have to do to get them that big. Eventually they all just started to blur together.

“And so the mule says to the donkey, you're B-Eeyore-ing me to death… get it..?”

Pinkie Pie had gone to get more streamers or something, so now the only acquaintance I was familiar with was Cheerilee. But I couldn’t seem to find her either. At least with someone I knew it would be easier to direct the bulk of the conversation towards them.

“One-hundred and Fifty-Six a day. YEAHHH!!!”

It wasn’t until I found myself talking to a grey haired mare wearing a pair of half-moon spectacles and her blue and pink maned friend that the heat finally started to die down. Everypony seemed to have finally made their way into their own social groups. Now all I had to do was get away from mine.

The mayor couldn’t stop relishing in the economic growth of her town. Every other phrase that came out of her mouth was dripping with pride, and she was constantly making thinly veiled attempts to get me to extend my stay in this ‘town of opportunity’. Even when the yellow one managed to get a word in, mentioning something about how her girlfriend being ill recently, the mayor managed to swing it right back around.

“Well let’s hope she gets better in time for the grand opening of the new concert hall. We need plenty of talented musicians to fill that stadium. And Dexter, I’m sure you’re a music lover. If you stick around maybe you could get tickets to the opening of what I’m sure is to become one of the greatest concert halls in all of Equestria.”

“I’ll have to get back to you on that. Could you two lovely mare’s excuse me. I have to use the little colt’s room.” I slunk past the two of them before they had a chance to say anything. This had gone on long enough. Every second I wasted up here being polite was another second anyone could find that body. I had to deal with it. Quick and precise. Surgical like Foster taught me. To stay safe, and to stop my dark passenger from beating on the inside of my skull.

I ducked down under the bed. My bags were still there. Good. Now I just had to—

“Excuse me darling?”

Crap.

“Um, yes?” I replied, nonchalantly pulling myself from under the bed.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you all night, um, Dexter. That… saddle” asked the pearly white unicorn, making a menagerie of disconcerted squints with her eyes, “isn’t it, a girl’s dress?”

“…no.” I replied bluntly

“Are you sure? Because I’ve never heard of a designer who would decorate a colt’s saddle with such a frilly rim. And those swirls that are etched into the back. Really darling you’re not doing yourself any favours by strutting around in such a feminine garb like that.”

“It’s fine” I said, trying to cut the conversation short, “I only wear it indoors. I just wasn’t expecting company.”

“Oh dear, you should always be dressed to impress. A stallion of your figure needs something much bolder. You really must come visit me at my boutique. I could tailor something that would fit you just right. Perhaps a white shirt to get things started--

I could tell this mare liked to talk. Everything seemed to be working against me today. Usually I don’t believe in bad luck but this town was certainly giving me pause for thought.

“You know maybe you’re right.”

The mare stopped.

“I’ve never had a discerning eye for fashion, so, if I can find time, I’ll definitely give you a visit.”

“Oh splendid. We’ll have plenty of--

“Sorry, I’d like to talk about it more, and, we can at your boutique” I stammered apologetically, while trying to sneakily pull my saddle bags from under the bed, “but right now I have something I need to do.”

“Oh, of course dear. How silly of me.” The mare proceeded to throw her arm around me, and hoisted me to the middle of the room, upon which I was blindfolded and spun on the spot repeatedly. My side erupted into spasms of pain so viciously, I had to grit my teeth to stifle my shouts of agony.

“Go ahead Dexter” laughed somepony who shoved a needle into my mouth. “Pin the tail on the pony.”

That’s what this was all about. A game?!

I had to grit my teeth again. This time to prevent myself from shouting out in rage. I just galloped forward as fast as I could, until the pin met it’s end with ‘something’.

*ping*

Pulling down my blindfold, I could see I had indeed hit the pony. Right through the chest.

“Good try Dex” smiled the pony from earlier. She levitated the tail out of the board. “Better luck next time I guess.”

“Alright everypony” yelled an orange filly with a cowgirl hat, as she trotted to the side of the room with a large wooden barrel hoisted to her back. “That’s enough games for now. Who’s up for some Apple family berry wine?”

Her call was answered with a hearty response from the party-goers, as every single one of them crammed into a throbbing crowd of thirsty ponies, like pigeons flocking around a spread of bread crumbs. For the first time since I had got back, there was a clear path from my bed to the door. Whoever this mare was, she was now the least irritating of my little intrusive guests. I scooped up my saddle-bags, opened the draw, and quickly grabbed all of my tools out of my chest while no one was looking. I grabbed my blood slides for good measure too. Then, I darted for the door.

*** *** ***

Finally I was out. All of the annoyances and obstacles were tidily occupied by a cowgirl and her drink dispenser, I had my bag of tools and the whole night to pull myself back together. Despite all the trouble that cannibal from across the street had caused me, I was really looking forward to seeing her again. I really had to let off some steam and she was just the stress reliever I needed, and damn if I hadn’t worked for it. I almost started to giggle with anticipation as my mind pondered the possibilities of the events to come, all the way from the first cut, right to the last clump of dirt filling her hole in the ground.

This only made my blood freeze all the colder once I had burst through the door to see that once again, I was not alone.

He was a burly stallion. He had a dark blue coat like the night sky, and a brightly coloured orange mane with yellow streaks running through it. He regarded me with his stern and calculative amber eyes, his expression neither that of warmth or aggression. “Hello” he said, with a very subtle nod towards me. He turned his head back around and resumed gazing out over the balcony as he once had.

I wasn’t sure what to do. Or what to say. I couldn’t go back in straight away. Or could I? If I just acted like I was looking for someone, it wouldn’t be odd. Yes. Just give a few looks to either side. Then maybe ask him if had seen a Pink pony with a purple mane. But then… then I’d be back inside, and undoubtedly get stuck in another conversation I didn’t want to be having.

Worst of all, this time they’d be drunk. I had neither the time nor the patience for that.

But my bags. Something told me I couldn’t bring them out with me. What possible excuse could I make? I tucked them inside before shutting the door behind me as I stepped outside.

Then, I joined him. I swung my fore-hooves over the railing just as he had, and looked down into the ally below. There was nothing down there. Nothing in sight anyway. We both just stayed there in silence, the only noise being the muffled sound of party music coming from behind us. The seconds dragged, on and on. I just shut my eyes and tried to let the gentle breeze soothe me, that maybe for an instance no matter how brief, I could forget where I was or what was happening. Maybe I could just drift away from it all.

“Come out for some air?” came a deep gentle voice.

My eyes peeled open. “Yeah. Just needed some space. It was… getting a little suffocating in there.”

“Aren’t you having fun in there?”

“…Of …” I just couldn’t seem to make the words. “Of course I am. It was very kind of Pinkie to throw a party just for me. But, I just needed a break.”

He chuckled. “It was kind of her wasn’t it. She does it for every newcomer she meets. I still remember mine. Just a few weeks ago I came home to find nearly the whole town in my home. It was startling of course. I hadn’t planned on getting to know many ponies here.” He lifted his head and looked to me. “But y’know, it was nice” he smiled. “Sometimes you spend so much time focusing on the darkness in life, you forget about the light.”

There was something un-nerving about the way he spoke. “Darkness?”

“Yes. Everyday bad things happen. Some small. Others unimaginably big. You must have heard of all the missing ponies around here. Many choose to ignore it, but some just can’t help but see it. It can get overwhelming sometimes. But with a party, you can somehow shake yourself free. Laughing. Drinking. Singing. Dancing. The woes of the world becoming distant specs in a vast ocean of pure bliss. So Dexter. Why are you out here?”

I didn’t so much as twitch with the serious look he was giving me. “Like I said. I just came out for some air.”

He turned away. “Alright.”

“What about you. Why are you out here?”

Taking in a big sigh he gave the slightest of shrugs. “Not sure. Maybe just on the lookout for… something.”

“Darkness?”

He remained silent. “What’s your name?”

“Dawn Rising” he eventually replied.

“Look Dawn. They’re serving berry wine inside. Why don’t you go and get a cup?”

“Hmm” he started to shuffle. “Maybe I will.” Dawn trotted to the door. Just as he began to push it open he turned back and asked “aren’t you coming?”

“I’ll just be a minute.” He proceeded to enter. As he did I managed to get a look at his cutie mark. It was a cage locked shut with a pad-lock. I had a very bad feeling about that Stallion.

Anyway. It didn’t matter. I started to count backwards from 15 in my head. I had to wait just a little longer.

3… 2… 1!

I went over to the door and snuck in to grab my bags. Quickly, I reached down and…

They were gone.

No.

~NOOOOO!!!~

*** *** ***

Who took them? Where did they go?!!!

“Hey” squeed Pinkie Pie crouching to my level. “Whatya looking for? Is it a spatula?”

“Pinkie, have you seen--”

No! Wait. I couldn’t ask for it. What if someone took it and looked inside. Would they scream? What would they think it they found all of those knives? Would they immediately assume the worst? If not what would they think of the blood slides? Damn it, they were in there too! I couldn’t actively ask for them, and let Pinkie . Then maybe at least I could deny they belonged to me. But Cheerilee saw me with them earlier. Would she remember? Could she… oh damn it!

I just shoved right past Pinkie and went into the crowd.

“Oooo, can’t wait to dance eh? Have fun Dex. Cut a rug. Aren’t we just super best friends now?”

I made my way through the crowd of dancing ponies as best I could, the air thick and heavy from all the movement and sweat. Bass-heavy party music was throbbing in my ears and through my skull. I looked around. Everywhere. Trying my hardest to keep my vision in focus. I searched and scowered the whole room. In the draws. On the bed. In a corners. On the shelves. In the cabinets. Nothing. I couldn’t find them anywhere!

I was searching around the berry wine crate when a pony doing some sort of shuffle dance manoeuvre knocked me flying forward.

Then I got a kick in my side. This time I did yell. All the way down to the floor as I fell, until I was just a little scrunched up lump of misery. The purple pony responsible gasped and tried to lift me off the floor.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there. Are you OK?”

I was not OK. Whatever first aid I had managed to scramble together from that waitress’s house had been obliterated, and now I was even starting to bleed. I could feel it oozing down my side and into the cracks of the embroidery on the saddle. I had to press it into my side just to make enough pressure to stop it from being visible. I wanted to scream so badly, but I wasn’t even allowed that luxury. With every ounce of strength I had remaining; I stood up and brought myself up to the counter.

“Just peachy thank you.”

“Are you sure, it was a nasty—

“Mistakes happen! I’m… just fine thanks. Just keep dancing, I need a minute to catch my breath.”

“Well, if you’re sure…”

“I am!”

And off she went again. Thank fuck. The last thing I needed now was another pesky conversation. I steadily lowered myself onto a chair and swivelled around to look my favourite mare in the eye.

“Hello. Could I have a cup of berry wine please?” I needed a drink. Just one. To dull the pain. I had given up on getting my tools and doing the job properly. I had to just get my cart, and leave immediately. This place was poison. I should have just trusted my instincts and turned around the moment I entered this town.

“Can I just say” spoke the cowgirl as she grabbed a beaker “ah think you were real mean to Twi just now.”

“What?” I strained.

“She just gave you a little bump and you had to go off on her.”

In pure unbridled frustration I slowly leaned in. “She did kick me to the floor.”

“Taint no reason for bad manners.”

“I wasn’t even mean to her. I just asked her to leave me alone. It’s not like I yelled at her or anything.”

“The look you had on yer face you might as well have.”

I’d had enough of this. I just stared her right in the face and asked “could I have a drink… please!”

The cowgirl shot me a look of distain and yanked on the handle on the nozzle of the barrel. It spat and sputtered for about 5 seconds, and then, nothing. Slowly I cranked my head back up to face her.

“Looks like we’re all out” she uttered coldly. “Sorry I guess.” She didn’t even stop to see me growl at her. She hopped on right past me calling out to her friend. “Hey Twi! Y’ever seen my Draconequs style?”

My head hit the counter jaw first in sullen defeat. So this was it was it? Not that I wasn’t expecting it to happen someday. My life was a tower of cards just waiting to collapse the instant one was removed. Only, I didn’t think it would be like this. So soon. No dramatic bang. No race to the finish or daring escape. I was just falling into pathetic bloody mess in slow motion, waiting for someone to break the news to me that it was all over.

“Umm… excuse me?”

I didn’t even bother looking up. But I felt some one leaning in closer to me. They patted my back gingerly with their hoof.

“If you’d like, you could have my cup of wine.” The voice seemed to echo in my head, managing to pierce through all the pollution of the dance music until it was just a distant echo. “I’ve already drunk some, but it’s nearly a full cup. Since this is your welcome party, you could have the rest if you like. I was probably going to waste it anyway.”

With my left leg, I pushed myself up, and looked at the beaker of wine. Then up. At the pink haired filly, averting her eyes from looking at me through the bangs of her mane. I didn’t say anything. I just picked up the cup in my teeth, tilted back, and guzzled it all down in one go, dropping the empty beaker once I was done. Tilting back down, I starred at her until she made eye contact, and I managed to utter “Thankyou.”

“It’s… OK” she murmured back.

She wasn’t talking anymore. In fact she spun and face away as soon as she could. The conversation was over. I must have been supremely delirious at that point, since some part of my brain actually wanted to say something else to her.

Luckily, before I could, some green coated stallion clutching a bottle of beer in one hoof came over and shouted “Fluttershy!” at which she squeaked in surprise. “Can I talk to you in private?”

She got up and turned back to look at me one last time before she left. She was gone now.

The wine, as little as it was, was starting to have some calming effect. I sat down for a few more seconds to let it get in my system. Before I left, I went to my draw and pulled out a roll of duct tape. Hastily, but discreetly, I layer as many as I could over the cut in my side. I fastened the saddle even tighter and trotted right out the front door.

*** *** ***

I was alone this time.

Finally.

My plan was currently uncertain and vague. With so many issue and obstacles, I wasn't sure which course of action was best.

As I started down the steps, I came to the conclusion that in any case, there was one thing I definitely needed to do. Get rid of that body. I could figure out what to do from there.

I also had to think about whether or not I left any evidence of being in that house. I didn't want to chance anyone relating me to the missing cannibal. Then again, she was a cannibal. Would anyone even consider she had been killed? Once they find the evidence of her misdoings, who would even care?

As I approached my cart something felt off. It became extremely apparent once I got straight behind it.

The body was gone.

…

No… it couldn’t be gone. She was dead… she was here… WHERE IS IT?!!!

I let out a primal roar of infernal fury and punched the base of my cart, splinting the wood and cutting my leg. I couldn't stop heaving. My chest was expanding and contracting aggressively, like all the pressure that had built up inside me was giving way. I clutched my skull between my hooves and sporadically flung myself around before landing face first in the dirt. My rage was exploding but I had nothing to vent it onto. And it was driving me insane.

Just then, I heard a distant scream, and down the alley-way, in the open street, I could see the yellow Pegasus from earlier. She was slung on the floor, holding up a hoof, as if protecting herself. And looming over her was the green pony from earlier.

Him. He’s the unfortunate one who gets to be my chew toy. Perhaps it wasn’t fair. I’m sure he wouldn’t want it. But I knew better than any in that moment that things just don’t always get to go your way.

I burst into a gallop, heading straight bolt for him. I didn’t even care that I was opening my wound again. Unhesitant I tackled him to the ground, and pushed my fore-hoof right up to his throat. He squirmed and panted in shock, flailing all of his legs around, trying to free himself. I pushed down harder and harder, revelling in his gasps for mercy. I was sure he was on the verge of giving out, but then something hit the side of my head and shattered. I had failed to notice he still had his bottle from earlier. A shower of glass flew into my face and beer ran into my eyes. He manage to throw me off of him, and before I could even regain my sight he stomped on my chest. I tried to roll away as he took swipes at me with his freshly broken bottle. He only manage to slash me a couple of times, but now I was struggling to stand.

Before I could get up, he was on top of me. My head was spinning and my vision was blurred. I could barley see him raising a hoof to strike me with the bottle. With my last conscious breath, I tried to hold him back, but it was a losing battle. The glass edged closer and closer to my throat. Then I heard a piercing screech, and saw colours. Something passed by so fast it rolled me onto my stomach. The last thing I heard was voices.

“Fluttershy are you OK?”

“Quick, get a cart we have to help him.

And then I passed out.

__________________________

Author's Note: I know it took a while, but I’m a very busy man... well, lazy is the word really.

Feedback is appreciated :D