Darkly Dreaming

by Connor Shadows

Chapter Six : A Needed Death

Darkly Dreaming
Chapter six
A Needed Death

Pinkie Pie had decided she had had enough fun for the day; she had pranked a few ponies before she started shopping and was making her way back to Sugar Cube Corner with her groceries on her back. It was now dark outside and Ponyville was enveloped in the silver light of a full moon. The golden light of the lamppost mixed with the lunar light and made the town almost seem to sparkle.

“Nice night for a walk,” she thought to herself, thinking she might take the scenic route home. “Oh no, I can’t gotta get this stuff to the fridge before it go’s bad,” remembering her load.

She sped up her walk to a slow, cheery trot.

She then let her thoughts go to another darker place. “I’m almost out of special ingredient for my cupcakes. I need to see who’s next on the list,” she concluded with a smile. “I hope it’s a unicorn I haven’t had unicorn in a while.”
Pinkie was only a few minutes from the bakery and she was in for a surprise once she got there.

“Really? A surprise? For me? That’s awesome narrator guy!”

Hey! No, Pinkie you can’t talk to me!

“Why not?”

Just follow the story Pinkie it’s almost over, this is the last chapter with you in it. After that you can go.

“Ooookay Fine.”

Thank you. Sorry about that reader you know how Pinkie is. XP

Dexter was finishing the kill room in the basement of Sugar Cube Corner when he noticed a large, green box in the corner of the blood stained, concrete room.

He had been there before when he worked Pinkie’s murder case and with that fact he was a little curious.

That box wasn't there last time I was here.

The lid was air tight from what he could tell and it was locked. Dexter quickly picked the padlock keeping the box secured and opened the heavy metal lid.

Dexter’s nostrils were then bombarded by the smell of rotting and decayed flesh. The box was full of pony skulls and what looked like dried out intestines. There were a few other things but Dexter slammed the lid shut and gagged at the unexpected smell.

“You kept trophies,” wheezed Dexter, after he had gotten over most of the smell’s effects. “I see why you have the air tight box.” Personally he preferred his blood slides. They were small and they didn't come with a grotesque smell.

Dexter then was struck by a demented idea he couldn't resist. He went back over to the box and opened it this time holding his breath.

After Dexter had gotten what he wanted from the box, he covered the container and the remaining walls and floor with a clear plastic tarp he had gotten at the hardware store before leaving Canterlot and got out his syringe, “Now we wait.”

Pinkie closed the door behind her, walked to the kitchen, and flipped the light switch on but nothing happen. “Guess the light blew out. Oh well.”

Dexter had removed the lights.

Pinkie walked over to the fridge and opened it, letting its cool light shine out into the dark room. She started putting up the groceries when she felt her ears twitching violently backward.

“Pinkie sense, why?” she turned around hastily and felt a thin needle enter her neck. She saw a familiar figure at the other end of the arm holding the syringe. All she could muster to say to say was “Oaker?” weakly before the dark embrace of unconsciousness swept her away.

Pinkie slowly became aware of her surroundings and realized something that was all too familiar. She looked around frantically recognizing the room where she prepared her secret ingredient. It all looked the same other than the thin layer of plastic that covered everything. From what she could see, there were also a number of assorted pony skulls scattered on the floor around her. She tried to move but discovered she was held to the table she was laying on by plastic wrap. She laid her head back in frustration and saw a large picture of her former friend turned stuffed animal, Rainbow Dash. In the picture she looked as confident and strong as she was before the day she came up on her list.

“So you’re awake. About time. I have small colt to get home to so let’s get this over with,” came a monotone voice to her left.

Pinkie’s eyes darted to the source of the sound. There was a grey Stallion in a green shirt, black pants, and a black rubber apron. He was busying himself with something on one of her stainless steel, wheeled serving trays. She tried to say something but her all that came out was muffled and inaudible. Her mouth had been covered with duct tape.

The stallion turned around “Oh that? Yeah, don’t want you screaming till I’m ready.”

This chilled her blood. She then noticed who it was. “Why does Oaker have me tied to a table,” she thought, beginning to fear the worst. When Pinkie saw the scalpel in his hoof as he walked towards her, her eyes widened in shock.

Dexter got on his hind legs and supported himself on the table his victim was strapped to, his eyes glowing with anticipation, her eyes screaming with fear of what he planned to with it. He slowly lowered his sadistic instrument to Pinkie’s skin and cut deep enough for a steady flow of blood.

Pinkie let out a muffled squeaky groan as the scalpel moved through her cheek, but then he stopped.

Dexter quickly left her and went back to the tray. He then returned with a small transfer pipette and a blood slide. He then used it to suck up some of the blood coming from her cheek and transferred it to the small piece of glass. He then put the other side of the slide on top of the glass and pressed. The picture of pleasure was on his face as he watched the small drop spread between the pieces.

Dexter put his trophy in his pocket and roughly ripped the tape off of Pinkie’s mouth.

“Ow! You could’ve warned me before you did that. Oaker why do you have me on this table and what’s with all the weird stuff?”

“Be quite,” Dexter demanded, “Do you know why you are here?”

“No, but I’d like to find out.” Pinkie said sourly.

Dexter rolled his eyes, “You’re here because of her,” pointing up at the picture of Rainbow Dash above her, “and all the other innocents you've killed.”

“What do you mean?” Panic welled up inside her—she had been found out again.

“You cut pony’s up and turn them into cupcakes,” her captor stated in an emotionless voice.

“What that I don’t do that anymore,” she said with slight hysteria and a worried smiled.

“Yes you do,” Dexter said pointing to the plastic covered box in the corner, “some of those skulls are only a mouth or two old, hints the smell of fresh decay in that box. Oh yeah and look I picked out the ones with no flesh left on them and put them around on the floor if you haven’t notice. You can’t deny you’re not still killing.”

“What? No, you’re wrong! I went to therapy! I don’t hurt ponies anymore,” she screamed in disdain.

Dexter slammed his hooves on the table and got in Pinkie Pie’s face, losing himself in the insanity of his dark passenger. “If therapy could fix killers, you wouldn't be here on my table. This is where you killed, so I only found it fitting you die right where you caused so much pain, surrounded by your trophies.” Dexter regained his composure and went over to the tray and lifted his large, thick-bladed kitchen knife. It shined in the light. “Who knows maybe after I’m done I’ll have a taste,” he said this only to torment her.

This statement sent her over the edge and she started sobbing and yelling, “Please help! Anyone please!”

Dexter ran over to her and roughly covered her mouth with his hoof. “Quiet, no one can hear you and they’re not coming to save you. You’re going to die here on my table there is nothing you can do or say to stop it.” He took his hoof off the party pony’s mouth “Have your life end with some dignity,” Dexter raised his knife, clasped in both hooves, over her chest. “This plastic covered room is the last thing you’ll see, well that or this knife sticking out of your chest,” Dexter was now seeing the world from behind a curtain of blood.

“What about you? You’re a monster just like me,” Pinkie screamed out between sobs, trying to delay her end.

“No,” Dexter replied soullessly, lowering his knife to his side, “not like you. What I do serves a purpose.”

“Did I get to him?” she wondered, a tiny glimmer of hope shining in her mind.

“Who are you to decide who lives or dies? You…”

Dexter cut her off, “What are you trying to do? You've seen the real me. I couldn't let you live even if I didn't want to kill you,” The knife twitched in his hoof.

“Wait, we c-could work t-together or something,” Pinkie stammered out. She didn't know how to delay her death any longer until she heard something that surprised her.

“You think so? You’d want to help?”

Her heart leaped as she was going to get out of this. “Yeah! You can kill the bad guys and I could…”

A flash of silver went downward into Pinkie’s chest. She looked to see Dexter’s knife sticking out of her chest.

“Sorry, I've work with ponies before it never ends well,” A smug but evil smile was planted on Dexter’s face.

Pinkie looked up at Dexter, her eyes slowly growing weaker and weaker. “Worst surprise ever,” she then departed with the dark chilling embrace of death.

The weight of the dark passenger left Dexter once he saw the last of Pinkie’s life leave her eyes.

“That’s better. Now to clean up and go home.”

Dexter decided that he would cremate her pieces in the large, stone fireplace. As he cut her up he thought, “I hope this doesn't take too long.” He didn't want Ditzy there all night.

It was around two in the morning when Dexter got home. He slowly opened his door and saw that no one was up. He walked through the dark space to the hallway. He opened the door to Harrison’s room and slowly crept to his bedside. He stood there watching his son sleep peacefully for a while, kissed him lightly on the head, and tiptoed out of the room.

Dexter opened his door and saw that Ditzy was sleeping soundly in his bed. He shut the door quietly. “I won’t wake her. She deserves a good sleep,” Dexter concluded with a smile. “Guess I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Dexter woke up to something poking him on the head. He opened his eyes and saw it was Ditzy and she was smiling. She laughed and chimed out, “Better get up before Harrison eats your breakfast.”

“What’s for breakfast?”