Dysphoria

by Owlor


13th of Second Ember

13th of Second Ember

I blame the coffee. Some days, it’s our only lifeline, but the pot over at the station is as bitter as my ex-wife, enough to make even the most hardened officer crave something sweet. As a cop,  you become a connoisseur of baked goods by necessity. And like any connoisseur, you get your preferences.

This is why, each time I managed to finagle a break, I went to Sugarcube Corner with a smile on my face to order my bagels. And why, every day for as long as I could remember, I saw her smiling back at me. Between my job and my ex wife, I looked forward to those soft upturned lips and the gentle bounce in her cheeks.

Later, when I saw her true face—plastered all over the news—every warm curve had withered into cold straight lines. I felt like a lot like a little colt would feel when meeting his childhood idol for the first time off-stage, realizing that the character he knew and loved was just a figment dreamt up by a skilled actor.

I remember how she’d ask me about my work and I’d give her carefully edited accounts, leaving out the details I thought would upset such a delicate soul as her. In retrospect, it was almost laughable; she had committed atrocities ten times worse than the criminals in any of my stories.

So, if not for the bad coffee, I would’ve never gone to Sugarcube Corner in the first place. I would’ve never known who the heck Pinkie Pie was. And I wouldn’t feel like shit right now.


I’m back at Sugarcube Corner, but this time it isn’t to get a bagel. Somepony heard a noise and we were supposed to investigate it. Thankfully, the Cakes left Sugarcube Corner and this forsaken town, they’ve got foals to raise for Celestia’s sake. The last thing they needed was to see their old home turned into a crime scene... again.

“Buckshot! Nightstick! Come here!” I hear Shining Badge shout through the megaphone and I instantly sigh. Ever since Pinkie was apprehended, the town’s been a hellholle. Ponies left and right think took her example and now they too believe themselves too cunning for the law. Damned idiots. It’s like New Horsey’s plague is slowly infecting all of Equestria.

“Come on Buckshot, time’s not going to wait.” My partner flashes me a grin, but it does nothing to lift the mood. I sigh and after adding another curse to my day’s list I walk inside the building.

The place is different from how I remember it. The boarded up windows keep the sun’s light from illuminating the interior, and the smell of mold permeates the whole building. The once vibrant colors are now dull. I wonder if it's due to the passage of time, or if they were always like that. Perhaps I was the one who saw them as being bright. With every creak of the floorboards, a chill rushes down my spine.

“I think I’m going to be sick.” We quicken our pace as we hear Shining Badge moan.

We kick the double doors and I’m hit by a foul smell. The whole place stunk more than a griffon’s butcher shop; fitting, since that’s exactly what it looks like. Blood had been spilled all over the walls and the counter tops, a macabre mix of fresh and drying gore. Shining is standing next to the taffy machine, clutching her stomach with one hoof and coughing repeatedly on the other.

It made no sense. Shining Badge may not have the strongest stomach in the world, but she’s danced this waltz before. The corner containing the taffy machine was probably the least gory area of the kitchen, the only thing in the room without a patina of grease and decay. It’s incongruities like this that makes you suspicious as a cop... Yet, I keep a steady pace towards the machine.

I look over the edges of the vat slowly, expecting a thousand different possibilities. The first thing that strikes me as unusual is the colour of the batter. All of the normal taffy colours are there, coalescing in a technicolor swirl. But I’ve had my fair share of taffy in my days. It’s easy to note that there’s a particular dark rusty hue that simply doesn’t belong.

The second unusual thing is how chunky the batter is, and this exactly what shifts my mind into overdrive. It’s like looking at one of those optical illusions where all you see is random blobs of ink until something clicks and you start to see the true image. The colours that sprinkle the batter aren’t taffy.

As I squeeze my eyes I’m able to notice the small details; pieces of skin, muscle and even small shards of bone are present. And the chunky red swirl... I feel just about ready to join in with Shining’s nauseated coughs.

There’s something else about the batter that strikes me as odd; it shouldn’t be moving. I reach in to try and see if there’s anything else in there, only for my back hooves to slip on some of the viscera. With my front hoof still in the vat, I can’t help but overbalance and fall, flipping the vat over in the process. The whole machine resonates loudly as it crashes on the floor, spilling the batter and, to my surprise, a body.

“Nightstick! Call the medics!” I instantly yell. My partner gallops outside while Shining and I move the body, carrying it to the only dry spot we could find. I notice the delicate curves of her snout and instantly recognize it as a mare. Her body is still warm. I can only hope that she’s still alive. I place my ear over her chest and allow a few seconds to fly past while listening for any signs that the heart still beats; there’s no sound.

I curse, there’s not a second to waste. Who knows how many minutes this mare has gone without any blood flowing in her brain? I shift over her and place both my forehooves on top of her chest before I bring my weight down over her, repeating myself in constant rhythm. I have to be careful; too much force and I could do her more harm than good.

“One, two, three, four...”

I hear her ribs cracking under my weight but I continue the compressions; Celestia knows that a pair of broken ribs is the least of her worries. Shining Badge moves close to the mare’s head and grasps it between both her forehooves, extending her neck as I continue to pump her chest.

“... twenty nine, thirty!”

I’ve barely said the word and Shining quickly wraps her lips around the mare’s and attempts to force the air in. She repeats the process once more before I resume the compressions. We repeat this for minutes, struggling to somehow bring her back from the brink. My back feels like it has a knife lodged in it and I feel like I’d be the next to have a heart attack. My lungs crave for oxygen, and the kitchen’s foul stench does nothing to alleviate the burning within them. Still, against my body’s protests, I struggle to keep pumping.

What seems to be hours pass as my body seems like it’ll fall apart like a little filly’s plastic doll. That is until we hear a faint wheeze. I immediately stop the CPR, but Shining Badge keeps her head still as the body thrashes some. The wheezing continues. Good. At least she’s breathing by herself now. Barely, but still. Shining moves her head closer to the mare’s open muzzle as I look around. We didn’t even notice when Nightstick came back.

“They’re coming, Buck,” he says, smiling proudly at me. I finally manage a grin of my own, grateful that we were able to save this mare’s life. Shining doesn’t look at us, busy as she is in keeping the mare’s head as still as possible. Nightstick nods at me and goes outside to guide the medics in.

“I’m no doctor,” Shining says as she inspects the mare’s mouth further, “but her airways are almost completely blocked!” Just as she’s done speaking, the doctors —seemingly undeterred by the 'picturesque' scene— rush into the kitchen.

“Move aside!” We obey the command as they approach her and begin their procedures.

Shining Badge keeps staring at the stallion and the mare that are now intubating the unconscious mare and I take the time to look around once more. After the initial shock of being confronted with this visage, I’m hardly impressed by it. We’ve seen worse when we first raided Sugarcube Corner looking for Pinkie. Upon remembering this, I start to look for anything out of ordinary. Whatever the current definition for that is, anyway.

“It’s too messy.” I manage to say as the doctors haul the mare away. There’s no way she would leave one of her unfortunate victims alive for long. And even if she did, the victim would show more signs of abuse than this.

“What’s that?” Shining Badge asks me, perking her ears. She looks after the medics, possibly in sympathy, before turning back to glance over the scene again.

“I said it’s too messy... this isn’t her usual MO. And she wouldn’t just dump a couple of bodies here either.” I turn to Nightstick for some sort of confirmation, but the only kind I can find is that his face looks as green as a freshly picked olive. “Besides that, there’s no way that she would leave somepony alive. Either we’re missing something here, or she wasn’t quite done. Could we get some kind of ID on the—”

My breath is cut short as I see it, those unmistakably insane blue eyes from beyond a broken window. I open my mouth to warn my colleagues, but I’m stunned when I see her smile. That same sunny smile she always offered me before, right before handing me a delicious bag of bagels. In the split-second I’m stunned, she lunges through the window and lashes at Shining Badge.

She can’t help but fall backwards and clutch the new five inch gash on her face. Nightstick rushes towards Pinkie, but she’s too quick; he’s instantly felled by a well-placed buck to his jaw. I turn around to go get aid from outside, but freeze once more at the sight of that manic smile right in front of me.

“So, you’re the kind of pony they’ve got going after me now? You don’t exactly look like much. But perhaps... I can have a little fun after all.” Her voice is different from what I remember: a mix of cold, jagged-edged realism and sultriness. It makes my fur crawl.

I open my mouth to scream for help and she tackles me to the floor, clapping one hoof over my mouth. I thrash around, trying to break free of her bear-like grasp. It’s all for naught, however. The exertion of having to perform CPR has me almost completely drained.

“It’s a shame I find myself having to leave; after all, I can’t exactly leave loose ends behind. Nevertheless, I’ll see you later.” She pats my back almost consolingly, before dashing out the back.

She let’s go of me and I’m left staring at nothing in particular. My mind is completely jammed and everything else seems to happen in a blur. I see her vague shape jumping outside and gallop away as Shining Badge tries to follow suit before grunting and collapsing on the floor. It’s only after she’s gone that I finally snap out of it.

I hear Nightstick shouting orders, but I know it won’t matter we only had enough ponies for regular call. Out of the five of us, one lay semi-incapacitated and one is probably bleeding to her dea—

“Shining Badge!”

I instantly leap to my hooves and gallop towards my fallen colleague. She seems to have lost consciousness, but the pain etched in her face is evident. Without thinking about it twice, I haul her over my back, despite the protests of my fatigued muscles, and gallop as fast as I can towards the hospital, shouting orders for the other two officers to call in reinforcements.

A raspy wheeze escapes from my throat as the air feels acidic to my lungs. My body, propelled by the thought of having a colleague dying because of my stupid mistake, rushes towards Ponyville General. When I barge through the entrance doors, I acknowledge that I don’t even remember how I got here so fast.

“DOCTOR! SHE NEEDS A DOCTOR RIGHT NOW!” I scream and instantly all eyes are on me. The nurse behind the counter, instead of faltering like I did, rushes and magicks Shining Badge from my back before carefully placing her onto a gurney and hauling her away.

I can do nothing but carry my sorry flank to one of the seats at the reception and sit down. Minutes pass before a nurse, different than the one who took Shining, tells me that my friend is in a stable condition but will need to go through reconstructive surgery. I meekly nod at her and she’s off her way. The “good” news do nothing to stop my mind from elaborating various scenarios in which I acted differently. Or in which Pinkie acted differently...