//------------------------------//
// Last Day, part 2. 
// Story: Dysphoria 
// by Owlor 
//------------------------------//

… and I’m in.

Not even five steps in and the pungent, heavy aroma of dried blood and formaldehyde hits me like a sucker punch. My muzzle scrunches up as my eyes start to burn and water.

The interior of the cottage seems like it has been abandoned for years, though the smell reeking from everywhere tells me otherwise. It is stale, but not as pungent as the smell of an already-rotting corpse. Yes, this is definitely the place. Not to mention that the furniture isn’t as dusty as it should be, if left to time itself.

There are clean spots on some areas of the couch, dragging a multitude of small tails of dust from its edges. Not to mention that the cobwebs would certainly cover the entire house if it really was abandoned. And yet, they only remain cluttering the ceiling and only a few sets of furniture. It is pretty clear to me, now; she’s here!

I start walking slowly, careful not to make too much noise, paying attention to every sound and sight.

“Just look at him! He’s doing everything wrong! Is this what they teach to the rookies these days? This isn’t an investigation! It’s a disaster!” a faint voice whispers behind me. My heart skips a beat and my whole body freezes. Cold sweat rushes from my forehead as I feel the room getting slightly colder; darker. The voice seems to echo endlessly through the walls, being twisted and distorted with each repetition.

“Oh, darling, give the poor dear a chance, will you? It’s true that he has been performing… less than admirably, but I’m sure he’s trying his absolute hardest.” Wait. I know that voice.

“Rarity?!” I whisper.

“Well, his hardest isn’t doing anypony any good!” I slowly turn around and gasp when I see the four Bearers behind me. Twilight Sparkle is biting her own lip, looking all around me. Rainbow Dash fiercely measures me from head to hooves, a gesture that Rarity is also partaking in, albeit more condescending than angry. Fluttershy stands behind Twilight, looking unusually vacant.

“But… but it can’t be!” the words roll out of my mouth before I manage to trap them within my throat.

“Now, look at what you did, Rainbow Dash!” Rarity says, looking at her friend. “You nearly scared the poor dear to death.”

“It’s not my fault he’s so jumpy.” The transparent blue ghost mutters, sounding very annoyed.

“Are… are you all real?” I ask, mind still being cradled by disbelief.

“Ugh. Just look at him!” Rainbow exclaims, gesturing towards me. “What the hay is he doing, now?! Don’t he know that Flu—”

“No!” The new voice makes me jump, surprised. Fluttershy, who was been up until now quietly lurking behind Twilight, screamed, silencing her friend. “Don’t.”

“I don’t understand,” I plead with them. “What is going on? Why are you all here?!” All the ponies turn their heads, riveting their eyes on me. I stare back, unsure of what I should do or say in order to get them to converse with me. To my shock, their bodies begin to fade away. Slowly at first, but by the time I ran towards them, trying physical contact, they were all gone.

“Oh, Buckshot, you’re so stupid!” I mutter to myself, pounding my hooves on the floor in frustration. There I was, alone in that damned, haunted house. Once more had my foolishness gotten the best of me. I could’ve warned somepony that I was coming… even though that would put them in danger.

No… this is my fight. This is the only chance I have to stop Pinkie dead in her tracks and arrest her. If she were to find anypony else in here, she’d probably kill the both of us and start her rampage anew somewhere else in Equestria. But with me here, we all stand a chance! Ponyville stands a chance! I have to stay focused on my tas—

“Nighty night,” a voice singsongs behind me.

“Wha—”





Consciousness slaps me awake as a bucket of water is poured on my face. Some of it got inside my nostrils, making them burn and giving me an irresistible urge to sneeze. After I’m done gagging and coughing, I open my eyes and take in my surroundings.

The first thing that hits me right away is my position. I’m lying onto my back on top of a cold, iron bed. I try to move, just to find out that all my four legs and head are have been strapped down to said bed.

“Don’t bother trying to break free.” Pinkie exclaims from somewhere behind me. I instinctively try to turn around to face her, being reminded once more of my situation. She eventually walks forward and I manage to see her inside my peripheral vision.

Still a bit groggy, I force my brain into working out the details of everything surrounding me. Apparently, I’m in some sort of cobblestone room, with the faint lightning coming from burning torches affixed to the wall. The walls are slightly mossy, making me aware that we are under a place with a lot of humidity.

Of course, the stream in front of Fluttershy’s cabin! We must be beneath her house. But… but how?

“Good boy,” she says and walks near me. I am instantly reminded of the pony I had met a few years back. Her puffy mane and tail remained the same, though her eyes seemed glimmerless. “Though, now I’m curious. Why did you scream? I mean, if you had kept your mouth closed, you’d be able to sneak up on me and end the game right there and then! So… what happened?”

“I… I saw them,” I simply stated, not knowing if I should comply with her requests or not. “I saw your friends.”

“Oh? Which friends?” She puts both elbows on top of the iron bed and rests her head on top of her forehooves, smiling warmly. “I had a lot of them, you know?”

“T—the Bearers.” Her smile instantly vanishes. Pinkie Pie, now wide-eyed, stares at me for a few seconds before her eyebrows furrow slightly.

“You know, sometimes I see them too,” she says, looking pensive.

“Who? Them?”

“My friends,” she says, morosely. In a quick movement, Pinkie grabs her own head with both hooves—a feat that made me recoil instantly—and screamed. Her guttural howl sent shivers up my spine, just due to how painful it sounded. Her hind legs buckled and she fell to the floor, beyond what my tied head managed to see.

She screamed once more and, by the sound of it, banged her hooves against the floor. As quickly as the sounds came, they were gone. I waited for a few agonizing seconds before my mouth worked some words by itself, against circumstances screamed at me not to do so.

“P—Pinkie? Are you alright?” As the words escaped my lips, Pinkie chortled. It wasn’t exactly mirthful, given that it sounded too visceral; as if she was cleaning her throat. She got up and looked at me with the only eye that was visible beyond her straight pink mane.

“Not Pinkie.” She smiled. “Not anymore.” My brain racked to make sense of the sudden change in her demeanor.

“What’s going on?” Instead of replying, the mare turns around and walks toward a bloody, rusty gurney. From there, she takes what I manage to see is a knife from it and turns around, facing me once more.

“So, shall we begin?”

“Pinkie... you... you don’t have to do this, Pinkie.” My voice trembles as the words roll out of my mouth; as arid as the desert. “P—please. T—think about this f—for a second.” I lift my gaze, meeting her azurest sapphires and noticing that they are open wide.

“You still... remember that? My nickname... ?” She stops walking towards me, holding the knife firmly within her forehooves. I can see her body shaking slightly.

Seeing the opportunity that has been granted to me I don’t hesitate in taking it. “Yes, Pinkie! I do! I remember you as the sweet mare who’d always smile when bringing me my bagels every morning. Fresh from the oven, you’d say. I remember back then how your smiles were the only reason for me to wake up.”

At this, Pinkie hides her face between her forehooves and begins to sob lightly. The sounds echo on the walls, creating a spine-tingling symphony.

“I don’t want this, Bucky... I’ve never wanted this.”

“But you can stop it, Pinkie!”

“No... it’s too late. I’ve—I’ve killed nearly all my friends now. It’s too late for me.” Her sobs pick up intensity. From the bit I manage to see through her forehooves, I can tell that the tears are running freely from her eyes.

“Listen, P—”

“No!” Taken aback by her sudden shout, I remain silent, fearing the worst. My eyes fixed on her blade all the time. “No... please. I—I just can’t. There—tha—I can’t!”

“Bus you can! Fight it! Try to remember what was life like. Remember what you were like.” She lowers one of her forehooves, the one with the knife, and looks at me with only one eye open. I can’t help but feel as if my chest has been stabbed; behind her mane, I can peer her cerulean eyes, giving me the most pitiful expression I’ve ever seen in my life. Her sobs pick up intensity once more and she lets out tiny whimpers as her body shakes.

She suddenly jumps forward. I instinctively cringe, but the pain of having my flesh being cut never registers. Instead, I feel the weight of her body against mine.

She’s—she’s hugging me?

“I’m sorry, Bucky! I’m—I’m so sorry!” she exclaims, crying on my chest. Her tears are real; I can feel them dripping from her cheeks, getting tangled on my dry fur.

“It’s okay, Pinkie. It’s alright,” I console her. She looks up at me once more, without covering part her face this time. I can’t help but shudder; it’s the same look Pinkie Pie always gave me. Only... more forlorn. More... desperate.

“I—I try to fight it! I try to fight her! I just can’t win! I try, Bucky! I—I—She screams at me! I don’t like it, but she doesn’t stop! And the screams only get louder and louder and—”

“Shhhh. It’s alright, Pinkie. You can do it this time. And you know why?” she slowly shakes her head to me, repressing another sob. “Because, this time, I’ll help you. I’ll be here to help you, Pinkie. You could have your old life back.”

“You... you really think so?” she pleads.

“I know so.” I smile at her. She looks down to my chest and then to the knife in her forehoof. I can see her internal struggle, as she keeps exchanging her gaze from the knife and then to my chest, going down to my abdomen. Her eyes linger at my belly and I can’t help but think that I’m losing this battle.

“Please?” I say. It is enough to break her stillness.

She looks up to me once more and nods. She slowly moves towards my left hood and begins cutting the strap that held it with her knife. I choose to remain silent, unwilling to shatter her newfound courage.

Finally, my forehoof is free. I can’t help but shudder as Pinkie gently grasps it with her knifeless hoof. She slowly moves it, placing it over her own cheek and tries to fight back a few more sobs. Once more, I remain silent, waiting for the pink mare to take her time. No need to push my luck.

“Oh, Bucky,” she says and I can feel the warmth from her breath on my left forehoof. “I’m so, so sorry!”

“It’s oka-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!”

The pain rushing from my left hoof is unbearable; it’s as if she drove white-hot needles into it and electrocuted them. I turn to look, only to see her knife sunk bone-deep in my forehoof. Behind it, I can see the cracks on the wooden table, no doubt shattered from the force of her impact. The blood spurts from the wound, leaking on the table I’m strapped on, and pooling on the wooden floor.

“Oh, you’re so predictable,” she says, drying one of her eyes with a forehoof and giggling in the other.

“You fucking bitch! I’m going to kill you!”

“Pfffff... yeah. Like I didn’t hear that one before.” She giggles. “Oh, save me, save me, Buckshot!” she says, mocking her prior voice, falling into a giggling fit shortly after. Her mirth escalates to full blown hysterical laughter as I do my best to try to ignore the searing pain in my left forehoof.

“Fuck you!” I say, clenching my jaw as hard as I can. It does nothing to stop the pain that invades my skull, however. The pain buzzes around my temples, scrambling all my thoughts and actions, making my whole body shake. I have to fight with all I have against my instincts and keep my hoof still.

“Oh, come on, Bucky! Where’s your sense of humor?”

“YOU TOLD ME YOU SAW THEM TOO!”

“Ghosts?” she asks, looking at me with bewilderment. Suddenly, in a gesture that makes me flinch, she clutches her own stomach and begins to laugh. I can feel the chortle reverberating inside her throat, as if there’s just too much laughter trying to get out at the same time, blocking her windpipe. “Don’t be stupid, Buckshot. There are no ghosts,” she says, cleaning the tears of mirth from her eyes.

“But I saw them! Clear as day! They were there! They were talking about me!” She approaches me and lie on top of my bound body. She holds her head with both forehooves and looks deep into my eyes.

“Tell me, Buckshot, have you ever heard of the word hallucination? Hmm?” She waits for an answer, smiling as she stares into my eyes. The only thing I manage to do is swallow dry. “No?” she waits for my reply once more. As the seconds eventually tick, her smile slowly transforms into a frown. “Wow, you’re dumber than I thought.”

“Well, you see, an hallucination happens when your itty bitty brain,” she says, poking my forehead, “gets so messy, that it starts showing you these clear, vivid images when there’s actually no sensory stimuli that would create these images. And they always seem to know just what to do.”

No, no, it can’t be!

“I’ll bet that they didn’t even pay attention to what you were saying. Pretty rude if you ask me.”

No! I saw them! They were there! I—I just know it!

“You wanna hear something funny?” she asks and, without waiting for my reply, continues, “Even though they intrude in the most inopportune of times, they’re still not as rude as they were when they were real.”

She takes the knife from the table and looks at her own reflection. Suddenly, her hair starts losing volume, falling flat to her sides. I see a small frown forming on her face, one that grows by the second. I can’t do naught but shudder.

”No… they weren’t rude! They were downright deez-picable!” she screams, slamming her knife-holding hoof on the table I was bound to. The blade comes close to my skin and I thank Celestia that it didn’t cut me.

She presses her free forehoof to the bridge between her eyes and sighs. In one swift motion, she moves her mane from blocking her face, revealing her blue, piercing eyes once more. I don’t know which one I prefer. She notices my distress and looks to me, smiling. “Well, that’s enough chit-chat. Time is candy,” she singsongs, wiggling the knife before my eyes.

“You know, Buckshot, as predictable as you are, I wasn’t sure you’d really come. I mean—my clues were ridiculously easy, but you’re just so thick that I didn’t think you would be able to piece them all together.” She begins stomping her forehooves on the floor, clapping for me. “I’d say you deserve a reward!”

She directs my attention to a small portion of the wall, covered by a filthy blanket. I notice a piece of string ascending from behind it, going all the way to the ceiling. I can see the slight movement in the blanket and I am suddenly aware of a few displaced grunts coming from behind it as well.

“You wanna see it?” She looks at me, beaming with joy, breaking my concentration before my mind manages to wrap around it. She hops toward the blanket and bites on it. With a quick movement, the piece of fabric is removed.

My breath gets caught in my throat as I see Shining Badge, with her bandaged removed, standing upright on her hind legs. Her forehooves are tied behind her back and to the string that is fixed on the ceiling, forcing her into the uncomfortable position. Her pain is visible; I can notice the beads of sweat running through her entire body as her hind legs shake, struggling to maintain her weight.

As she sees me, her eyes widen, but the ballgag in her mouth prevented her from producing anything other than unintelligible grunts. Pinkie's smile only seems to grow wider as she walks towards Shining and strokes her cheek with the back of a hoof. “She’s very pretty.”

Shining recoils at the touch and turns around, trying to headbutt Pinkie. She is more agile, though, and grasps Shining's neck between her forehooves. “Now, that wasn't very nice!” she says and begins to tighten her grasp around Shining's throat.

“No!” I scream, noticing the guttural sounds coming from the mare trying to breathe. “Pinkie, stop!”

She obliges, leaving Shining coughing and trying to support her own weight once more.

“You love her.” That wasn't a question, so I remained silent. “Yeah, I can tell you do. If you didn't, you wouldn't have told her our little secret.”

“W—what secret?” I say, eyes still locked with Shining, as she sobs in her gag.

“Oh, silly, you know!” she says, massaging Shining's head with a forehoof. “So it's only fair that I made her tell me a little secret of her own, wouldn't you say?” Shining looks down to the floor, refusing to make eye contact.

“Well, I’m betting you’re real curious about what her secret is, aren’t you? Too bad, Buckshot, I’m-not-tel-ling,” she singsongs, smiling at me.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I scream, unwilling to play these stupid games of hers any longer.

“Oh, Buckshot, you should know by know that I’m a pony who keeps her secrets locked all nice and tight.” She stopped walking and gasped in an overly-exaggerated fashion. “Oh, I know! Why don’t we ask her?”

Upon hearing this, I thrash against the straps. It is all for naught; no matter how hard I try, I can't break free from these restraints. And my every move only serves to bring more pain to my deeply wounded forehoof. I look to Shining and notice her sobs, long and exhausted. Lost and alone. “Pinkie, please! Don’t. I’m begging you!”

She works with her hooves behind Shining’s head and removes the ballgag. “So, whaddya say?” Shining’s expression changes instantly. Her pleading eyes turn more aggressive. She waits until Pinkie is facing her to spit on her face.

“You’re disgusting.” The pink mare frowns and cleans her cheek with her foreleg. She, then, grabs Shining Badge’s head between both forehooves and locks her eyes with Shining’s.

“You’re going to regret this.” Shining merely frowns, bracing for a punch that never came. Instead Pinkie walks over to the gurney once more. She comes back, carrying a pair of scissors and walks towards Shining, who instantly begins to quiver.

“Pinkie, no!” I scream, but it has no effect on the maniacal pony. She stops between me and Shining and pokes at the mare with the scissors. The heart-wrenching howl that emanated from Shining’s lungs gripped my heart and squeezed it dry. Pinkie, undeterred by the agony that reverberates around the room, continues working with her forehooves.

“Oh look!” she moves her body, giving me sight of Shining once more. The image makes my eyes swell with tears instantly. Shining hangs precariously, her hind legs almost giving under her. Blood pools and dribbles from her mouth, as tears do the same from her eyes.

“How could you?” I ask, looking at Pinkie with all the hate I could muster. “How could you?!”

“Oopsies! Looks like she won’t be revealing the secret either!” She proceeds to bite Shining’s recently cut tongue and carries it over to me, stopping by my side with a quizzical look. After a few moments spent in silence, she picks the tongue and smears the ballgag with its blood. Once she’s done, she licks the item and inches it closer to me. I try to turn my face away from her, but she grabs my hoofwith her free hoof and tries to keep it stable. I try my best to deter her from gagging me, which brings a noticeable frown to her face.

“Stop—” The pink hoof holding my hoof is now over the handle of the knife lodged through my hoof, pressing it down.

“AAAAARGHHHH!”

“—moving!” She lets go of the knife, prompting my whole body to go numb. My vision blurs the instant Pinkie places the bloody ballgag inside my mouth. By the time she successfully strapped it to the back of my head, I am made aware of a ringing coming from inside my skull. The rust-tasting liquid pools inside my mouth and my tongue instinctively recoils from the taste, nearly blocking my throat.

I don’t know what exactly is going on, but through the ringing I can hear the muffled sound of screams, followed closely by laughter. Is that Shining? I don’t even know anymore. My mind is buzzing, in synch with the powerful hum of what sounded like a power tool.

The blood travelled down my throat, leaving its alien taste through its course imprinted on my hazy mind. It burns my throat, forcing me to gag; a feat that is hard to accomplish given my numb tongue.

Suddenly, I feel my heart racing. My lungs begin to ache, moving desperately beneath my ribs. The air! I can’t breathe anymore. The blood seems to freeze inside my veins as my heart nears its bursting point. The pain radiates throughout my entire thorax, spreading toward my lower jaw, back and left foreleg.

The muffled sounds of screams and machinery seem even more distant than before. The cobblestone in the ceiling seems to be washed by a fog that thickens by the second. It changes colors, turning from a simple grey to a threatening black void that begins to swallow my vision. My entire body floats in a sea of numbness as I descend further inside myself.

“Don’t go yet, Buckshot! We’ve still got a lot more playing to do.” The disembodied voice pierces the mist of confusion, but it does nothing to change my situation. My heart has long ago stopped throbbing painfully, though I can still feel it trying to cling. I feel something poking my leg’s hinge, but it seems so far away from my body right now.

Immediately, everything is back to full clarity. Like I was force-fed reality itself from a feeding tube, the world regains shape once more. I gasp, taking in a massive amount of air, as my entire body springs to life. I can feel all my muscles tensing at the same time, making the numbness disappear completely. My lungs and throat burn; it is with much difficulty that I manage to cease my breathing for a moment in order to swallow the blood and saliva that still lingered inside my mouth.

I try to ask what happened in-between hungry gulps of air, though the ballgag makes it nearly impossible to make out something intelligible.

“You were gone for quite some time. I was afraid you were gone for good!” she says, sounding legitimately relieved. She throws a hypodermic needle somewhere in the room and I can already tell what she has done to wake me up. “Now, be a good boy and lay there while Mama Pinkie finishes playing with Shiny-whiny!” She pats my head, turns around and walks towards the dangling mare once more.

Even though I know what is going on with Shining, I can’t help but feel… powerful. Even though my heart is beating faster than ever before, it doesn’t hurt anymore. The pain on my wounded hoof is also considerably distant, though still quite powerful.

Adrenaline… she revived me with adrenaline.

Pinkie revs a loud machine, something that is followed by Shining’s screams. I’m… I’m sorry, Shining, but I have to do this. This is our only chance.

I force my bind hoof against its strap. I exert my muscle until I am sure that if I continue, my bone will snap. Even though I stop pressing against it, I can already feel that the strap is a little more loose than previously. This prompted me to try once more. And once more. And once more, until I had successfully released my foreleg.

With just one hoof, I removed the straps on my hind legs. Now that I was completely free, I quickly scanned my surroundings more thoroughly, trying to find an exit. I smile once I see a staircase leading upstairs, with the passage on top left open.

“Now just look at what you’ve done!” I hear Pinkie muttering to a sobbing Shining Bagde before I turn around to try to escape. I jump from the iron bed and gallop on three hooves up the stairs. Once I am through it, I turn around to close the door, sealing Pinkie inside. Trying to neglect the pain coming from my hoof, I start pushing the bookcase that is beside the hidden door. It isn’t heavy, but with my hoof shooting sparkles of pain that pierce my skull, the task isn’t easy either.

It eventually collapses in front of the passage, allowing it minimal room for opening. I take this opportunity to quickly look around and try to determine where inside Fluttershy’s cottage I am. The constant thumping of my heart and the buzzing pain make it hard to focus. Suddenly, I hear a loud bang on the door and a pink foreleg protruding from the opening, trying to reach for me.

“Aw, don’t run, Bucky! I was just getting started!” I immediately lounge towards the door, applying all my weight trying to close it. I hear the piercing snap of bone breaking, but no vocal response Pinkie Pie other than an annoyed grunt. She pushes back and I curse the days I spent home, moping around and not feeding correctly.

“I’m going to get you, Buckshot! And when I do, we’re going to have so. Much. Fun!”

She is quickly overpowering me, but the fallen bookshelf is still enough to deter her advance. Knowing that my time is deadly running short, I gallop around the house, trying to find anything to defend myself with.

After wasting precious seconds, I end up in the cottage’s kitchen. There is no door, but right above the gas stove, I notice a window big enough for me to escape. I put both forelegs on the stove, trying to get a firm grip on the mould that has grown above it, and push down. The pain is too much and my wounded hoof ends up slipping, falling towards the side of the stove.

I fall to the floor, groaning, but the metallic clank that followed my accident did not escape my ears. I quickly look around and find the source; a rusty pipe, probably from the falling-apart stove. I scramble back to my hooves and pick it up before placing it above the stove and try to climb on top of it once more.

I ignore the pain this time and manage on top of it just in time to hear a rumble coming from behind me. Without wasting time, I raise the pipe with both my forehooves in order to smash the wind—and I am gripped by weightlessness.

I feel something sharp poking and prodding me, forcing me to curl up. When the feeling passes, I find myself lying outside of Fluttershy’s cottage. I try to move, but a searing pain forces me to slow my movements. I turn around, face up, and am only able to see Pinkie, smiling from inside the house.

I try to drag myself away, but the pain is back, forcing a grunt from my throat. I look up once more and see Pinkie having trouble climbing down the broken window. She lands, grunting, and picks up the pipe with her good hoof, wasting no second as she limps towards me.

“You are a coward, Buckshot,” she says, leaning close. My eyes are blurred and my mind barely registers what she’s saying. I move my shaking hooves to the source of trickling warmth radiating from my belly. I wince when I touch the large glass fragment piercing my abdomen. As my breaths begin to quicken and my heart starts throbbing incessantly, it all finally dawns on me.

It’s over.

She won.

Tears start pouring from my eyes. My lungs choke, giving birth to guttural sobs that shake me whole. Pinkie, seeing this, immediately frowns.

“Look at you. Look at you! You’re fucking pathetic!” I try to look away; trying to cut her existence from my last moments. “Your entire life has been leading up to this, Buckshot. This very moment! And all you can do is cry?!” I put my hooves over my ears, desperately trying to block her words.

“Where’s the hard stallion that endured the toughest of Manehattan nights?! Where’s the tough pony who wanted to rid the world of all its crookedness? Huh?! Tell me!” she screams, dropping the pipe and grabbing my head by my mane, lifting my face towards hers. “Tell me! Where the fuck is your mask now, Buckshot!? Huh? TELL ME!”

I do nothing but cower in shame.

“You’re disgusting,” she says and drops me to the floor. “You’re not worth my fucking time.” She grips the pipe with a forehoof and raises it high. I shut my eyes tightly and allow another sob to escape befo—