//------------------------------//
// Caution 
// Story: Breadcrumbs 
// by TantiMount 
//------------------------------//

“Find anything! Any clues, any trace! Find that pony now!” Keen demanded. Fluttershy’s cottage had been turned upside down in search of her. Angel, her pet rabbit, was also nowhere to be seen. Her room, kitchen, living quarters, and even her basement (hidden behind a bookcase, so presumed to be a panic room) were all populated with creatures, but not the sought-after pony.
        Keen was getting frustrated and worried. She was the third of the sextet to fall victim, and he couldn’t let the other three be touched. Harmony was being destroyed one at a time. 
        “Search the grounds! The Everfree Forest!” Some ponies had stayed behind in the house, investigating over what had already been searched. Keen turned toward them. “Did you hear me? Go!” he ordered. The ponies, shocked, stumbled up and ran out the door. He sighed.
        I’m sorry you had to lose so many of your friends… I hope you can forgive me for my failures… Keen took one last look around the cottage before trotting out himself. He had to figure out where this pony went, and fast.
        A familiar buzzing and flashing light snapped him out of his one-track mind and increased his heart rate at the same time. Please don’t be…
        “We need you at the town square, Flatfoot. It’s… It’s Fluttershy.”

He arrived, emotionally drained and exhausted. He knew what he was getting into long before he saw the scene. Of course, he already had to deal with it twice before. He crossed the police tape and approached the stage that was set up for a festival the day after. At center stage, with spotlights focused on the otherwise moonlit display, stood Fluttershy in morbid irony.
        “Another one…” Keen sighed. He felt powerless against whatever force was at work. Discord was awful, yes, but he never killed anypony. Nightmare Moon just wanted to be revered and plunge the world into eternal night. The changelings just wanted to feed on love, though nopony knew what that entailed. Whoever this killer was… They were the true monster.
        Fluttershy, like the two before her, had been skinned and restitched, eyes missing, and placed on a mannequin. Unlike the others, the mannequin had been altered for a special pose. Her left foreleg had been raised, and fastened to her lifeless hoof was a microphone, lifted to her muzzle. She was positioned to seem like she was singing her heart out.
        On her back was another abnormality: Angel, her pet rabbit, had also been taxidermied, holding a miniature microphone and posed to be singing just like his owner. His left paw was extended upwards with his right paw gripping the mic.
        “What a sick sense of humor…” Keen mumbled. It didn’t seem to stop there. The backdrop of the stage had been repainted, replacing the otherwise peaceful painted mountain with a flow of red lava in an erupting volcano. Forensic ponies were already taking samples of the paint, but Keen knew already what they’d find. Drained completely, Fluttershy was displayed for all to see, contrary to everything she stood for.
        The same officers as before circled the scene, collecting evidence, inspecting every detail they could discover. Keen, as before, interrogated everypony, hoping for the littlest bit of information about who could have done this. But just as before, nopony had a clue.
        “Sir, you should probably take a look at this,” a pegasus motioned to Keen. The pony was gripping a paper in his mouth, offering it to the detective. Keen magically grasped it and began reading. “Pinkie is planning this festival tomorrow, Twilight is the speaker, and Applejack is acting as a bouncer. I feel like if anypony would do anything, it’d be tomorrow. It’s a great opportunity for the killer to knock out three birds with one stone.” Keen looked at the pegasus with leering eyes, but nodded.
        “We’re cancelling this thing. Nopony is to leave their houses until we figure out what’s going on.”
        “Martial law?” the pegasus was taken aback. Martial law hadn’t been enacted since Nightmare Moon! “But sir, isn’t that a little ex-”
        “Get the chief, but I promise she’ll agree. Station ponies at each of the Element’s houses, and don’t let anypony in or out unless it’s me or the chief. Got it?” The pony saluted and ran off. Keen walked to the perimeter, motioned for an officer to come closer, and stated, “Get these ponies out of here. Give Clean Cut Fluttershy and her rabbit for an autopsy, and contact me if anything out of the ordinary is found.” The pony ran off, and Keen continued out of the scene.
        He had never felt so tired as he did then. Ponies were dying, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it. If this continued, not only would there be more victims, but the world would lose another important element to combating threats to harmony. And if they killed Twilight, even without Discord, Equestria would fall into chaos at the loss of a princess. He trotted wearily to the station, unsure of what to do next.
        
Rainbow Dash had her cutie mark sliced off, her wings chopped, and was reduced to standing on the ground. She lost all that made her who she desired to be. Her pride removed from her body, her aerodynamics ruined. The most lively pony in town, dead.
        Rarity was forced to sew a dress made from other ponies, against her will, and made to wear it before being killed herself. Forced to corrupt the one thing that made her what she loved, and killed bearing the fruits of her labor, no more than the mannequins she used herself.
        Fluttershy made to watch her pet die in front of her, stuffed, and posed before becoming the same herself. She loved to sing, but hated performing, hated crowds, hated being displayed.
        This killer knew these ponies. Knew them well. Tortured each one of them with what they loved the most. Tortured. What sort of pony would torture such loving souls as these? What sort of pony finds this cruel irony humorous that they would do it again and again?
        Keen stopped thinking the moment he sat at his desk. It was too much for him, this case. Too emotional, too stressful. He hadn’t had a moment to rest since it began, and it had started to get to him. He cleared off his desk, moving papers and files to the floor before leaning back in his chair. He stared. He stared down at his empty desk, not thinking. Not hoping. Not doing.
        Everypony in the station sat in equal silence and stillness. No clues, no leads, nothing. Three known deaths, six missing bodies, unknown number of others. This serial killer had them tied, and was taunting them for what they didn’t know. He tried saving Fluttershy, but the killer was one step ahead. There was a pattern, but he didn’t know what it was.
        A hoof slammed down in front of him and startled him back to reality. “Flatfoot, what’s this about martial law?” The well-dressed pony stared at him, a serious gaze breaking his no-thought process.
        “Um, er, we, I mean, I don’t know who’s getting targeted next, and…” He eased a little, straightened up, and gathered his thoughts. “...And I believe the best and safest way to find the killer is to keep an eye on their next targets. Martial law also benefits us in that anypony caught outside is immediately a suspect.”
        The light blue-gray hoof lifted and the owner looked at him disapprovingly. “You know I don’t really approve of these sorts of measures in most situations…” Keen looked at her in horror at this. “...However, I trust your judgment and will grant you this.”
        Keen recovered, stood up, and reached his hoof out to shake hers. “Chief Crime Scene, ma’am, thank you very much, ma’am.” She reached hers out and put his down.
        “Don’t let it happen again. Catch this sick fuck and keep this town safe again.” Scene grabbed her hat and placed it on her navy blue hair before trotting off.
        She was never a pony to mince words… he thought before leaning back again. His mind had eased a little at the thought of having martial law enacted for the safety of the town (and hopeful capture of the killer), but it still wasn’t able to cope with the murders. However, he had barely a moment’s pause before Clean Cut had arrived at his desk.
        She, like the chief, was a mare of few words, but unlike the chief, she was very good at mincing them. “Same MO… New details… dress…”
        “What? You have more intel on the ponies that made up that… thing?” Keen couldn’t bring himself to call that monstrosity anything related to clothing. It was made out of ponies, for the love of Celestia.
        “Reported missing… months… Thought moved….” she started.
        “Yeah yeah, we knew that. But what else?”
        “...Coats… coated… sugar…” She placed a paper on his desk, pointing with a floating quill at the main section of the document.
        “‘...coats of the ponies were discovered to be covered in sucrose. Unknown how much, as coats were also covered in blood, confirmed to be both of Rarity and of the owner of the skin patch.’ Are you telling me that the killer intentionally covered these ponies in sugar? All six of them?” he questioned incredulously.
        “Not six…” she corrected. “Nine.”
        He sat, stunned in disbelief. The killer covered everypony they killed in sugar before killing them. “Do you… do you know any reasons why they would cover these ponies in sugar?” Clean shrugged. Keen had a bit more information to go off of, but just like everything else in this case, it simply didn’t make any sense. Why sugar? What purpose did it serve?
        “...Bye.” Clean turned away from him, and started to walk from him. He noticed her yawn a bit before turning around once more. “Calm… Sleep…” She yawned again, and disappeared out of the station. He yawned in return, rubbed his eyes, and for once, agreed wholeheartedly with the oddball coroner. He checked the clock; it was 3 AM, an hour and a half since Fluttershy was discovered, and more than twenty hours since he last slept. He needed the rest, and like Clean suggested, it should calm him down.
        He placed his papers back on his desk and exited the station, heading home. The rest of the department should be fine without him.