Chapter 11: Instincts
She held me in her hooves, snaking their way across my body and holding me tight.
I mirrored her actions, but I was holding on for dear life as I heard her moan my name and thr-
BZZZZZZZZT
I was startled awake from my dream and felt my heart hammering in my chest. Not in fear, oh no. I let out a long, frustrated moan and buried my head in my hooves and leaned against the dryer — every time. Every time I fell asleep, I was plagued by the same kind of dreams.
I didn’t even have to glance at the clock to know that it was just edging on morning and I had a collective 2 hours of sleep in me. As sunlight streamed into the bathroom and still feeling the arousal from my previous dream, I decided now was a great time for a shower to start the day.
A cold shower.
Contrary to what others might think, I’m not exactly some asexual being. I’m a stallion and a slave to the hormones that come with being male.
A primal part of my brain has clicked on a few times in my life when in the presence of a mare in season, but my meticulous nature and aversion to touch stops that cold.
This though? This was completely different. So real, so vivid.
I let out a content sigh as the cold water washed over me and any lingering feelings down the drain.
The object of my dreams was apparent. Pinkamena. Her and I, doing things. Things that make me shiver in disgust now that my mind is no longer clouded by primal instincts.
I blame her.
She masturbated right in front of me and hotboxed my basement with her scent and pheromones. Is it any wonder why my animal instincts were kicking in?
I washed that seat cushion three times now and almost choked to death on the air freshener clouding the basement.
Pinkamena is sending signals, that much was obvious. You don't masturbate in front of somepony for a lark. I just need to...
With another deep breath, I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. I felt so much better. Awake, alert, and focused. I knew what I need to do.
Drying myself off, I pulled the cushion out of the dryer and smiled. Clean. No trace of any scent and a sign of things turning around.
A glance at the clock on the wall, I smiled. 5 a.m. The sun will be up in two hours and the day will start. The bank opens at 9 a.m. And if Pinkamena holds up to her end of the plan, she’ll be keeping Teller busy with Pinkie’s antics.
“Tonight’s the night,” I said with a wide grin. The Whisper, despite all of its moaning and belittling, was eager. “Gonna need a good breakfast for this.”
Do you know what an opportunistic carnivore is?
It’s generally a herbivorous species that will eat meat when the opportunity and need arises. Deer are known to, as well as squirrels.
Ponies are an odd bunch... Pegasi will eat fish when offered, yet will balk when asked if they’d eat red meat. Some earth ponies won’t admit it, but I know a few who’ve eaten things like pork and beef. But almost every pony out there has eaten eggs at some point. Especially if you like baked goods. So essentially, ponies are just like deer — opportunistic carnivores.
Me? I’m one of a hoofful of ponies in Ponyville who buys eggs just to cook and eat. In my line of work, you need all the energy you can get. And honestly, eggs are an amazing breakfast food: high protein, high energy.
And tasty.
Down the stairs and to the kitchen, I glanced at the clock after finishing up the laundry. 6 a.m. A greased pan later and some freshly whipped eggs, I started making my omelet.
“Eggs, cheese, green peppers... Mushrooms too, that’d be good,” I hummed as I tossed in ingredients. “What else?”
Bacon.
I bit my tongue at the thought. During my time studying at that griffon culinary school, I ended up eating bacon for the first time when it was broken up and served in an omelet.
Apparently, my peers expected me to vomit and throw a fit over it. But after the reveal and tasting it?
My word, what I wouldn’t give to be a griffon, just to be able to eat stuff like that as the norm.
“Mmm... What’chya cooking?” A still sleepy Scootaloo said suddenly. “...Are those eggs?”
“Why yes, they are. I was making an omelet for myself,” I said cheerily. “You don’t have an issue with that, do you?”
She cocked her head to the side for a moment before making an ‘O’ with her mouth and gasping. “Oh my gosh, I remember! Rainbow Dash was talking with her friends and said how she liked to have an omelet on training days! She said protein is good when exercising.”
I nodded slowly. “Yes it is, but it’s an acquired taste.”
“Can I try it?”
“How about I throw in another egg and let you try just a bit? Just in case you don’t like it.”
Scootaloo nodded quickly and I set to work on the omelet again, smiling as I cooked.
I was always in a good mood when getting ready for the kill.
I had enough circumstantial evidence against Teller that in a court of law, he’d be convicted but I wasn't lying when I told Pinkamena why I wanted to find smoking gun.
I thought happily about the look on Teller’s face when he was strapped to my table and all the fun we’d have. About how his obsessive nature with Scootaloo’s mother drove him to destroy the thing he cared about and that’s why he was going to die tonight.
“Not gonna lie, that smells really good.”
I looked down at the little filly and kept on smiling.
“I know, right? Some ponies don’t like to eat eggs like this but are fine with having them in a cake or cookies. It’s almost done.”
Grabbing the pan with one hoof and a plate with the other, I skillfully slide the omelet from one to the other and brought it to the kitchen table.
Two plates, two forks, two knives. I cut off a small piece for Scootaloo and set it in front of her. My usual three-egg omelet had a fourth in it and I was definitely going to be feeling bloated if she didn’t like it.
I watched as she cut off a tiny piece, brought it to her mouth and chewed. After a bit of contemplation, she swallowed and nodded her head. “Wow, that is good. The texture’s a bit weird, but not a bad weird,” she said with a smile. “Can I have a bit more?”
“Sure thing.” Not often do I get to share something I like with another pony. Even if Scootaloo was a kid. I slid a bit more omelet onto her plate and finally got a chance to sit down and eat mine.
I saw a lot of myself in the little filly. Not just the dead parents, mind you. A bit of an outcast picked on by other children for something she has no control over, and on the fringe.
Call it the happy high I was getting from planning tonight, but I no longer was seeing a nuisance in her like I first did. She was more like... a roommate than anything else. One I could actually get along with. And give it a hoofful of years and when she’s ready, she’ll be out of my mane and out doing whatever she wants with her life.
And hopefully, not end up like me.
“So, why were you up so early?” I asked idly.
“Well... I dunno, I just kept thinking about things. School. What we talked about. Kinda want to see my friends and tell them everything that’s happened, but after... You know.”
Something hit me right then and there and I realized I had a little bit of a problem. Scootaloo will be home tonight unless I did something. Best to nip that problem in the bud.
“Well, I did talk with Diamond Tiara’s father yesterday. Things should be a bit more smoothed out, so don’t worry about that. And today’s Friday, isn’t it?”
She looked in thought for a moment and then nodded. “Yeah. Why?”
“Well, I don’t think I can handle having any of your friends over just yet, but if you wanted to see if you could spend the night with-”
I could barely get the rest of the words out before Scootaloo jolted up and smiled. “Really?!? I gotta talk with Applebloom and Sweetie Belle but I’m sure we could hang out at Rarity’s tonight!”
I smiled and nodded as I finished up the last bit of my omelet. “Just make sure everything’s okay with the adults first, okay? And if they ask, let them know you have my okay.”
Getting up, I tossed my plate in the sink and started to run the water. “I need to do some running and you can’t exactly see your friends until after school. You going to be fine by yourself for a while?”
Almost 7 AM.
Scootaloo nodded. “Yeah, I’ll work on the heavy bag a bit more and then maybe work on my homework.” The last word left her mouth and she gave a sour look. “I hate algebra. Math was already complicated; why did they need to bring letters into it?”
Scootaloo’s bemoaning of the school system fell into the background as I washed the dishes. I had a few plans to make and some tools to bring out.
Tonight’s the night...
* * *
When Pinkie Pie wants to throw a party, a party is thrown. And today’s occasion?
“Saving for the Future!”
I met her on the streets and she was so excited because she had this idea that more ponies should open savings accounts so they can better plan out the future.
It wasn’t those exact words, but the original was a jumbled mess of sugar high and bouncing.
Still, a distraction was a distraction and by the time I passed the bank, Pinkie had already set up several banners and streamers. And the bank manager, whose name escapes me, was happy to see someone attempting to drum up business.
By then, it was around 8 AM and my little excursion before meeting up with Pinkamena last night let me know what street Teller lived on. Now all I had to do is simply sit at the cafe on the corner and wait to see what house he comes out of and nurse my drink.
“Coffee, you’re the only one who truly understands me...” I said with a small grin.
“Here, here!”
I suppressed the urge to whip around and instead remained calm and turned to the voice of the mare.
Rarity. She had a penchant for showing up when I least expect it.
“Oh, Rarity. A pleasure to see you, as always. Getting ready to start the day?”
The white mare nodded. “I put in my order just now, actually. I was about to sit down and get into my book when I saw my most polite customer. Tell me, how is that apron treating you?”
I wanted to laugh. I really did. If she only knew. “It’s seen a lot of work, but I’m taking good care of it. I love the fact that it can’t stain. It was worth every bit, I must say.”
If only I could get her to do a plastic face shield... I might be able to have a bit more fun.
She let out a little laugh. “Oh thank you, it was quite fun to make something fashionable, yet ready for work.” Rarity cleared her throat and leaned forward a bit and that’s when I knew there was more going on here. “I’ve heard that you’ve been taking care of Scootaloo. How is she?”
“A hoofful, I won’t lie. She had a bit of an altercation not too long ago. You probably heard about that from Sweetie Belle,” I said with a roll of my shoulders. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement and turned just enough to see it.
And there was Teller, smiling and happy as he left his house. He was decked out in an expensive suit, levitating a cup of coffee and the morning paper in front of his face, nursing it and reading as he made his way to work. And to think, he killed a pony not too long ago.
I’ve always heard that demons are the ones you least expect.
The third house down. The green one with the white picket fence. That’s where he lived.
With a smile, I decided just to keep indulging Rarity. “I got her a heavy bag not too long ago to help her work through some of her issues. And we talk. In fact, we talked this morning about her seeing her friends and your name came up.”
Rarity blinked and she let out a long sigh. “I have a feeling Sweetie Belle is going to ask if her friends can spend the night,” she said with a tired smile. “Well, I happen to be ahead of schedule, so I can watch the little dears.”
“Would you?” I asked with another plastic smile. “That’s so nice of you, thank you. I’m so used to the bachelor lifestyle that having another pony in the house just throws everything off.”
“Hmmm... Bachelor, huh?” She asked with a coy grin. “I’ve heard from a little birdie that you and Pinkie might be a thing.”
Even that wasn’t enough to sour my mood. “It’s... an experience, to be honest. I don’t think we’re a ‘thing’ in the sense of the word, but we’re... testing the waters, so to speak.”
“Ohh well, you can’t look at it like that forever! You nee-”
“Rarity! Ice coffee for Rarity!” A stallion yelled from the counter.
“Oh just one second darling, I’ll be right back.”
As much as I wanted to stay and listen to Rarity drivel on about relationship advice, I had other plans and was eager to get to work. I downed the rest of my coffee, tossed the container in the bin, and hopped the picket fence. I was gone in an instant and if Rarity asks and wants an explanation, I’ll tell her I left the burner on.
Smooth.
I ducked down a nearby alley between Teller’s house and the neighbor’s. His neighbor seemed to have all the lights off and from the position of the flag on the mailbox. They’ve already gotten the mail and is out and about.
I had time, but I had to be quick.
I started tugging at my fannypack — don’t laugh, it’s either that or wear pants — and fished out my lockpicks.
Oh, how I enjoy breaking and entering. It's like opening a present.
At the back door and with no pony in sight, I got to work and wiggled the pick while keeping tension on the torque wrench. After less than a minute of fumbling, I felt the door click and open.
Everything was turning up Daymos today. I just wanted to skip and sing, but that’d be unbecoming. And I’m trying to keep a low profile.
Teller’s house was tidy and kept clean. What you would expect from an employee at a bank who brings clients home to get them to take out a second mortgage. A few rings on the coffee table, one near a comfortable looking chair and a number strewn about on the opposite side where the couch was pretty much confirmed the suspicion.
Now, I’ll be honest. I didn’t know what to expect when breaking in. At least he didn’t have a dog, which was nice.
Dogs really don’t like me.
With a deep breath, I started to slink through the house, walking carefully and making sure not to disturb a thing. The last thing I needed to do was tip him off that someone was on to him.
Teller is someone who files for a living. Could extend to his home life...
Nothing downstairs, just a kitchen, pantry and bathroom. Check upstairs and see if he has a desk anywhere, either in a study or his room.
The Whisper was always a good companion to dark deeds done like this. And it was right. There was a bedroom upstairs, but it was economical; bed, nightstand with nothing in it and a lamp.
But behind an ajar door was a study: single desk, chair, filing cabinet, and armoire.
The filing cabinet didn’t have a lock, which was a welcome sight. Opening it up, I was greeted to a sea of manilla envelopes, folders and papers.
Okay, okay... He wouldn’t expect anypony to be up here. Maybe he put something in here involving Honeysuckle’s bank account. And it’s all dated, beautiful. Tell me Teller, are you cocky?
I looked back to a few days before Honeysuckle’s suicide. Then a few weeks. And a few months.
Nothing. Nothing nowhere that stood out.
I was starting to get frustrated. Teller struck me as the kind of pony who would keep something like this. There was a receipt for one donut bought at SugarCube Corner, dated three years back.
There had to be something. But the filing cabinet wasn’t revealing anything anytime soon.
The desk had no drawers, no papers, and had nothing but an inkwell and a quill.
All that left was the armoire.
A glance in and I could see several things. Nick-nacks, mementos, and the like from vacations no doubt. No papers, but there was something that caught my eye.
A lockbox. About average size, something you could easily carry in a briefcase. Grabbing at the door of the armoire and pulling, I quickly found it locked and let out a long sigh. Of course, it wasn’t going to be easy.
Getting my lockpicks out again, I at least took solace in the fact that the armoire was antique and easy to pop open. The lockbox on the other hoof was quite tricky and I found myself cursing as the minutes ticked by. Finally, after a solid five minutes of fiddling with the thing, the lock yielded and I found myself smiling.
“Alright Teller, what are y...y... Oh dear Gods above.”
I’ve dug up a lot of dirty laundry over the years. Horrible things, grotesque things, and just carried on. I kept myself distant and focused on the job at hoof.
This? This involved me. At least to a certain degree. And I suddenly found myself reeling.
I was wrong. Wrong about so much.
Wrong about Teller and his motivations.
And wrong about one certain judgment call this morning and felt the claws of paranoia dig into my guts.
My stomach was doing flip flops and I quickly closed the box and started putting things back the way I found it. I needed to get out of here.
“Fucking lock.” I growled through grit teeth.
Once the box locked, was in its proper place and the armoire locked, I did everything I could not to bolt. I retraced my steps and was out the back door and locking it behind me. Once I finally hit the streets of Ponyville, I made a beeline straight for home.
My mouth was dry and my mind was flooding with all sorts of possible scenarios I was about to find myself in, none of them good.
Once I did make it home and burst through the door, my heart settled down just a tad when I made Scootaloo jump a full 2 meters in the air.
“What, what?!?” She screamed out, eyes darting everywhere before fixing on me. “What’s wrong?!?”
I stood in the doorway and tried desperately to catch my breath. “It’s... It’s uh... Nothing. Nothing at all.”
“D-Daymos?” She asked shakily. “What’s wrong? You don’t burst through the door like there’s an emergency over nothing.”
No hiding it, no lying to myself anymore. Hidden parental instincts kicked into overdrive. I had a damn panic attack. I’ve read about parents going into a panic watching their children sleep and thinking they stopped breathing. I thought that was silly. Now? I think I can understand that fear.
I took another deep breath and staggered over to the couch, taking a seat next to the filly and sighing.
“Scootaloo... Has anyone ever given you the ‘Stranger Danger’ talk?”
“Uhh, yeah. Ms. Cheerilee did in class a year back. Not everypony is nice. Don’t talk with anypony you don’t know, don’t let them in the house and get an adult if you feel something’s wrong,” she said with that same worried look. “Daymos, what’s-”
“I freaked out, okay?” I snapped. “I’m ashamed, but I freaked out thinking that something happened. Something bad, but... It’s fine. Everything’s fine.”
“...Oh,” she said flatly. “Well... I'm fine, don't worry. And I wouldn't talk with somepony I didn't know or go with them. So, don't worry okay? I'm not a foal.”
Taking another breath, I glanced at the clock. 9:30 AM. “Have you taken a shower yet today?”
Scootaloo shook her head. “No, I was napping on the couch before you barreled in.”
I nodded my head. “Alright, alright. Why don’t you take a shower, then? I need to do some shopping and I’d like you to come with me.”
She perked up at the prospect. “Ohh, okay! That’d be pretty rad. Do you think I can get a few things, too?”
I forced a smile despite my swirling emotions and nodded. “Sure, I don’t see why not. Now, get your butt in gear. Time's a-wastin'!”
And with that, the little filly was off, trotting towards the bathroom and closing the door behind her. As soon as I had a bit of respite, I let my shoulder sag and bit my lip. I needed to check on some things upstairs.
Knives.
I’m going to need lots of knives.
Rope.
Hammer.
As my checklist formed and I made my way up the stairs, I stopped by Scootaloo’s room.
The heavy bag was there and in all of an instant, all those mixed emotions settled into one.
Rage.
Teller’s face was painted all over the heavy bag and I just started grinding my teeth. You don’t do that.
YOU DON’T DO THAT.
Soon I found myself in a fighting stance and looking like a boxer about to square off. That’s when the blows started raining.
My upper lip curled in a snarl and I started beating the heavy bag hard and fast, blow after blow slamming into it and the only thing I could imagine was Teller’s face with every hit, breaking and splitting open and shattering and falling to pieces like a rotten melon.
Picturing that red blood, broken bone, and shredded meat that was his face made me smile.
I stopped just as quickly as it started and took a deep breath, focusing myself.
Tonight is the night. It has to be.
* * *
The trip to the store was rather uneventful. I didn’t need any more knives, I’ve got a few I haven’t used for a while. All that meant was a trip to the hardware store.
You don’t need to explain to the pony behind the counter why you need a sack, three meters of rope and a sledgehammer unless they ask. They tend to fill in the blanks with the most obvious answer.
‘Oh, he’s probably doing some concrete work. The sledgehammer is for breaking up concrete, the heavy-duty sack is to store it, and the rope is to drag it.’
However, you actually need to voice this when asked.
“Why do you need all this stuff, anyway?” Scootaloo asked idly as she looked into the cart.
“Well, there’s some concrete in the basement that was just put over part of the floor that’s always been there,” I said with a forced smile. “It’s an eyesore and I want to get rid of it. It’s just in the corner, but I can’t just break it off with a few good stomps. It’s there good.”
“Ohhh,” Scootaloo said with a small nod. “Gonna need any help?”
She was so eager to help or do anything after a trip to the toy-store and some ice-cream. She was practically dancing after getting that Wonderbolts doll.
I shook my head. “Sorry, concrete dust. I’ll be smashing that concrete up and it’ll be all in the air and if you breathe that in, you’re in for a world of hurt. As much as I’d like the help, I think I can handle it.”
She gave me another nod and I felt a little relief. The trick with kids is not to just say no, but explain why you said no. Otherwise, they just get more persistent.
The pony behind the counter didn’t even give me two looks when I put my items on the table and just started ringing them up.
“35 bits, will that be all?” He asked with forced joviality.
“Yes, I think that’s everything.” I hoofed him the bits and I was out of the store with my purchase. A glance at the town clock tower and I let out a bit of a smile.
2 p.m. I had plenty of time.
“Well, well, well. Good to see you again.” I tensed slightly and turned to see a rather miffed Rarity.
Oh this is the last thing I need today.
You just bought a shiny new sledgehammer. Why don’t you show her?
Don’t tempt me.
“Rarity I’m sorry, I-”
“You should be! I mean, running off like that and leaving me? You better have a good excuse.”
Oh I did, you insufferable...
“I... kinda had a bit of a panic if I’m honest,” I said bashfully. “We were talking about Scootaloo and I started thinking and then my imagination kind of went a little wild. I started walking off and by the time I was halfway home, I was sprinting.”
Rarity blinked in confusion. “I’m sorry? A... panic?”
“I was at home alone,” Scootaloo suddenly said. “I mean, I’m a big filly and can stay home fine, but Daymos like, burst through the door and asked me if got the ‘stranger talk.’”
Rarity’s eyes darted between Scootaloo and I before bringing a hoof up to her mouth. “Oh dear, I’ve made a right bother of myself. I’m sorry... I was just so miffed and let it stew.”
I know the feeling.
“It’s alright,” I said with a forced smile. “I mean, I didn’t say anything and just left you hanging. Just some miscommunication, that’s all. So tell me, has school let out yet? I’m sure Scootaloo would love to see her friends.”
Rarity nodded. “Why yes, Sweetie Belle’s at the house with my parents. They’re visiting for the afternoon and I was just about to stop by Sweet Apple Acres and see if Applejack would like me to take Applebloom off her hooves for the night.”
“Well, would you mind?” I asked, motioning my head towards Scootaloo.
“Oh, why certainly!” Rarity said with a wide smile. “It’d be nice to have the girls all together again... As long as they keep the chaos down to a minimum.”
“Thanks Daymos! For everything!” Scootaloo cried happily before tackling my leg and hugging tight. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”
I gave Scootaloo and Rarity a wave as they left and let out a sigh of relief. I could get the last preparation for tonight.
* * *
I know where every body is buried in my basement. I don’t even have to think twice about where I put the shovel.
It does seem like a bad idea to bury bodies in my basement, but I think of it like this: One, I could have put them in the Everfree. And I’ve done that a few times. But everypony in this town seems to know when someone goes in that forest and the few times I did, I had to make an excuse after excuse as to why. What do you think would happen if trips into the Everfree forest became a regular thing for me?
Second, not all kills are disposed of in the basement. I have a few places scattered across Equestria from my romps in different cities. I’d say only half my kills are in the basement. The others? Never to be found again — that I made sure of.
Finally, if I’m caught, that’s it. Game over. If say, Twilight managed to put two and two together and pointed the hoof at me with the Cherry Twins case, she would have all the evidence to say it’s me. I know it, that’s how she works. That’s how the Equestria Law works. You need 100% proof.
And the price of murder in Equestria is life in prison. It doesn’t matter how many. One body, eighteen... You’re spending the rest of your days in a 2x3 cell.
So, if I am caught... what of it? I have bodies in the basement, let them find them. Better to go out in a blaze of glory.
That being said, I don’t plan on getting caught any time soon.
Twenty-seven bodies are currently sitting in the earthen floor of the basement in holes deep enough to hide a mutilated pony and laced with chemicals so not even a sniffer dog could find them.
And I’m digging hole number 28.
Teller is going to be the 28th pony beneath my floorboards.
And I can’t wait.
* * *
11 p.m.
Two quick knocks on my basement door and down the stairs bounded Pinkamena. I was left in the basement, enjoying a cola, and reading my book. The stage was set.
“Whoa...” Pinkamena said aloud.
I had a few things ready. My table was center-stage. Leather straps ready to grab whatever pony was laid on the bare metal. Next to it were my tools. Scalpels. Knives. Power tools.
I love that reciprocating saw. It was going to see a lot of action tonight.
The newest addition, which I felt was quite just, was the sledgehammer purchased earlier today.
My little bit of happiness was back. And I was oh so eager.
“Good evening, Pinkamena. And how did things go?” I asked idly as I flipped to the next page.
“Good, good... It seems like you didn’t need a lot of time to get set. Find the ‘evidence’ you need?” She asked with a laugh.
I smiled. A cruel smile, a smile that spoke volumes. A smile that cut Pinkamena’s laugh short. “Oh, did I ever. I couldn’t take it, though. We need to grab it when we go to pick up Teller.”
“...Oh. Yeah. So, uh, what’s the plan? Are we going to lure him out or-”
I cut Pinkamena short by throwing the sack at her and retrieving a small bag. Opening it up, I showed her the contents — several hypodermic needles and vials of liquid.
“Etorphine and Diprenorphine. One to knock him out, one to bring him back.”
Pinkamena’s eyes flashed between the sack and the needles. “Fucking seriously? We’re just... gonna abduct him?”
“Worked for me in the past,” I said with a bit of jolliness in my voice. “By the time we get there and get him under, it should be around midnight. Most ponies will be asleep. It’s just a matter of getting him three streets over at that point. Which is why we take alleyways and backstreets down the market district where no pony is.”
“Well... Alright, I guess. Figure you’d just carve him up at his place or something.”
I shook my head. “Ohh, no. I have plans — wonderful plans for a pony like Teller. Come on. We’re wasting time.”
Pinkamena proceeded to tie the empty sack across her chest and I stuffed my needle bag into my fanny pack. I normally like to lure my targets out, but I’m no stranger to the in-home abduction. And knowing Teller’s house made it all the easier.
I was quiet as we slipped through the alleyways and empty streets of Ponyville. The nightlife in Ponyville was nonexistent. Every pony was a shop owner, farmer, or laborer. They needed their sleep. This, I was gracious for.
And soon, I was in Teller’s backyard again, this time with a plus one, and was ready to invite myself in again.
I took out my lockpicks and quickly began to work at the lock, remembering my past motions having it open faster than before.
Pinkamena was still silent, watching my every move and following in my footsteps, much to my surprise (and delight). She didn’t need any instruction and no prompt to close the door behind her, slowly and carefully.
Soon, we were up the stairs and much to my delight, the door was open and the light was on. Not to Teller’s bedroom, but his study.
He sat at his desk, the armoire and his filing cabinet open and I could hear the scribbling of a pen. My breath did hitch at the sight of the armoire open, but the lockbox was still in place. So he either just opened it or was going to.
Either way, it set my blood on fire just thinking about it and with a few steps, I was behind him with a syringe at the ready. Teller wasn’t doing paperwork. He was drawing. And the drawing just made everything worse.
With one hoof, I spun him around in his chair and he let out a silent gasp, staring at me in wide-eyed horror. “Wha-” was all he could choke out before I slipped the syringe into his neck, making sure to hit the right vein and injected the contents. The entire time, my gaze burned into him.
“Get his body. I need to grab some things.” I said above a whisper.
The drawing was folded in half and the strongbox set on top of it and got to work.
“Jeez, this guy weighs a ton...” Pinkamena groaned as she proceeded to heft Teller in headfirst.
“Other way,” I said firmly as I worked at the lock. “He’s unconscious and going to have all his weight on his neck. He’ll suffocate in minutes and I want him alive.”
“...Oh, right.” Pinkamena said with a bashful laugh. “I’m not used to the whole ‘keeping them alive’ thing.”
The box popped open and I bit my tongue. Anger welled up again but I pushed it down. I needed a level head for now. Tossing the drawing on top of the others, I closed the box and tucked it away.
“He all set?” I asked. I saw Teller’s head for all but a second before Pinkamena pulled the strings on the sack and closed them off. “Ready... What’s in the box?”
“Something that makes this very personal. Now come on. We have to get him back.”
Pinkamena stopped and gave me a look. “What’s in the box?” She asked, sounding more intrigued than ever.
I took a deep breath and grit my teeth. “Pinkamena, grab his fucking legs. You’ll see soon enough.”
She raised her hooves defensively. “Alright, alright! Jeez, can’t a girl be curious?”
I stayed silent and instead helped her heft Teller’s unconscious body down the stairs and out the door. The hardest part was done. He was mine.
* * *
I spent the better part of an hour setting up the scene.
Teller’s unconscious body was strapped to the table and he was breathing easily.
For now.
Pinkamena’s jibes and teasing fell silent when she started to see what was really in the box.
I ran a string from one end of the basement to the other and proceeded to hang Teller’s pictures by clothespins. All he’d have to do is strain his neck — or forced — to see them. The first was a rather detailed picture of a young Scootaloo. Probably a solid 3-4 years before I met her.
The picture would be rather impressive if it didn’t also feature a rather detailed and anatomically correct image of her genitals with notes and ‘prediction’ sketches beside it.
The next picture was a Scootaloo I didn’t recognize but could be assumed to be the artist’s rendition of her if she was a full-fledged teenager. This one had several stains (which I hoped were just drool) and more notes.
Finally, Scootaloo as a full-fledged mare. Same story.
Other contents of the lockbox included a few candid shots of Scootaloo that I could only assume were taken with a high powered camera, a few locks of hair, and a mini-calendar. The calendar had a few dates each summer circled with word “Season?” written next to them.
“This guy’s fucked up.” Pinkamena finally said. “Like seriously. Holy shit.”
“He’s a pre-sexual pedophile,” I said bluntly. “I’ve only heard of them, never met one until now. He wanted Scootaloo more than anything, but unlike a normal pedophile, he wanted to groom and raise her until she was old enough. And then...” My voice trailed off, not even wanting to think about that.
“Like I said. Fucked up.”
I nodded slowly. “Time for him to make his case.” I retrieved the needle from my bag and after a few checks and taps of the liquid, I slid it into his forehoof and injected the contents.
Diprenorphine works very quickly against the etorphine and within a few minutes, Teller was moving and coming out of his chemically induced slumber. I turned to Pinkamena and nodded for her to step back. Teller was mine. I wasn’t sharing and I made that much clear when we brought him in.
“Oh hell...” He moaned out, trying to stand up. The leather straps kept him bound and I could practically hear his heart start to hammer in his chest. “Ohh no... What... What happened? Oh, sweet Princesses above...”
The Whisper was reveling in that fear. And so was I.
“No Princesses here,” I said calmly, stepping into his view. “Just me.”
I was quite a sight. There I stood in my pure white apron, my rubber gloves on, and surgical mask around my neck. “Just. Me.”
Teller thrashed against his bonds. “Wh-what?!? What are you doing?!?” He screamed. “Let me go! Let me go! HELP! HELP!”
“Ohh, scream all you want — much louder ponies than you have tried. No one will hear you,” I said, keeping my calm. “You see Teller, you and I have to have a little talk. About Honeysuckle.”
His whole body froze up and he looked to me in horror. “I-I... What? What are you...”
“Don’t play dumb. I hate it when they play dumb,” I said with a tired sigh. “I found the letters you sent to Honeysuckle. How you wanted that second chance.”
He swallowed dryly and looked away. “I... I didn’t...I didn’t say anything.”
I rolled my eyes and pulled out one of the letters. “Ahem... ‘Two years. It’s been two years since Rivet left you alone and you haven’t even looked at me,’” I said mockingly. His eyes bugged out of his head and I could see the fear in his eyes. The real fear I was looking for. “‘You run from me even now. We will be together. I promise you that.’”
I let out a laugh and crumped up the letter and threw it as his head. “You know when Honeysuckle died? I thought it was weird. Do a little digging and I find a good chunk of change leave her account. I haven’t seen where it’s gone to, but a suspicious pony might wonder if it had anything to do with the pony pressuring her.”
I was hitting all the right buttons. Teller was sweating up a storm.
“And you know what? I don’t think Honeysuckle killed herself. Tell me, Teller... Do you know who killed her?” I asked, grinning from ear to ear.
He knew.
He knew I knew and all I had to do was wait and just keep on smiling and he’d cr-
“I-I-I... I did it. I did it... Oh, gods above, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry...” He said with a sob.
That didn’t take long, I thought, a bit disappointed. I was honestly hoping for more confrontation. More squirming.
“Ohhh I know. I know you killed her. And you’re not sorry. You’re not sorry for killing her. You’re sorry for something else, isn’t it?” I grabbed him by the mane and yanked his head up to see his pictures. “Something like this?”
I could her choke and sputter. His biggest secret revealed to the world. “NOOO!” He wailed, shutting his eyes tight. “NOO!”
“Look.”
“No!”
“LOOK AT IT!” I bellowed. He kept his eyes closed, twisting his head around and away from his shame. “OPEN YOUR EYES OR I’LL RIP YOUR EYELIDS OFF YOUR HEAD!”
With another forceful yank, I brought his head right back around, and with my threat hanging in the air, he relented.
“You don’t understaaaaand...” He sobbed aloud. “She’s... So beautiful...”
“I fucking understand you piece of shit,” I hissed out, throwing his head back against the table. “I understand you’re a sick, sick pony. Who killed another pony because she wouldn’t let you into her life because she knew what was going through your head every time you saw her daughter.”
The rage I felt earlier was starting to melt away with each pained sob of Teller. I was expecting more of a challenge. More from him. I started to reach for a knife just to end it.
“And now I’m taking care of her...” I said solemnly.
Teller’s sobs started to taper out. “That’s where she was...” He said, his sobs devolving into chuckles. “Oh, I know where I’m going when I get out of here...”
My hoof froze over the butcher’s knife. “...Out?”
He let out another laugh. “Ohh yeah. You wanted justice, but who the fuck is gonna buy any of this in a court of law?” His laughs started to get louder. It didn’t sound like he was convincing me, but himself. A part of him knew. “I-I can say this was all said under duress! You forced me to say all this!” Teller just kept on laughing and laughing and laughing. “HAHA! I WIN!”
“...Who ever said you were getting out of here?” I asked above a whisper.
Teller’s laughter slowed down as my hoof drifted from knife to the handle of the sledgehammer.
I found it again.
That rage. That anger.
Teller watched as I dragged it over slowly, his laughter dead by the time I was over him. “You’re not leaving here. Ever.”
The fear was back in full force and Teller let out a wailing plead for his life, but a hoofful of cotton stuffed in his mouth cut it short.
With a final deep breath to steady myself, I brought my other hoof onto the handle and hefted the sledgehammer above my head.
First was a muffled scream to stop.
Then came a resounding snap, like a tree being broke in two during a storm.
Finally, a wail of agony.
I set the sledgehammer down and surveyed my work. Blood trickled steadily from the Teller’s leg, most likely the back part when the femur split in two and broke through the skin.
Teller’s wailing started to steady and he looked like he was on the verge of passing out.
Pulling the cotton out of his mouth, I started slapping him upside the face as he wailed in pain. “Hey, hey, hey. Don’t pass out on me. You’ll ruin everything.”
“Y-Y-You’re a f-fucking monster!” He spat out through clenched teeth. “GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU.”
That was the pain talking. No, one pony was dying here tonight. It wasn’t me.
“GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU, GONNA FUCKING GRAB THAT LITTLE CUNT. DONE WITH FUCKING WAITING!”
Finish it. Finish it. FINISH IT.
The Whisper chanted those words again and again in my head and between it, my rage towards Teller and his false promises, it was tempting.
“Fucking faggot if you don’t see how hot that little piece of filly ass is,” Teller spit out as he trembled in pain. “Gonna fuck get outta here and fucking kill ya and fucking WRECK THAT FILLY P-”
That was as far as I got before the cotton was stuffed back into his mouth. I was done hearing him talk. My surgical mask came up and he screamed obscenities at me through the gag as I slowly circled him with the knife in hoof.
All those threats and promises seemed to die in his throat as he watched the gleaming piece of 8-inch steel. Standing at his side, I raised the knife above my head and there was a muffled scream to stop, but no. I didn’t.
The knife came down and pierced his sternum. He let out a strangled wheeze as I held the knife there. I ripped it out and brought it back down. And then again.
And again.
And again.
Somewhere around the eighth or ninth stab, I stopped as it became a mechanical motion more than anything.
That was it. Honeysuckle’s killer was dead. Scootaloo’s mother had been avenged. And she’ll never know it happened.
I took a breath and steadied myself, leaving the bloodstained knife on the table.
The Whisper wasn’t there anymore. And if anything, I feel like it approved of the brutality more than anything.
I’ve never done anything like that before.
My kills are always more mechanical than anything. A confrontation, a reveal, a death... That’s it, done and over with. This? This was personal and I let it get to me. I let the rage and anger of somepony close to me being in the sights of a monster and...
I felt so good. I felt better about this kill than any recent one.
“That was... so fucking amazing,” Pinkamena said, breaking the silence. Her cheeks were flush and she looked at me with a big, giddy smile. “The fear, the taunting, the anger... the snap of his femur, oh my gosh Daymos...”
“I try my best,” I said tiredly. I wanted a shower. I wanted to go to bed. But no, a monster’s work is never done. “We need to start work on the body, I’ll-”
That’s all I got out before a set of hooves grabbed me by the shoulders and threw me into one of the chairs.
“Wha-”
I looked down and saw Pinkamena kneeling between my legs, looking up to me with a big grin on her face. But there was something more — a hunger in her eyes and a heavy blush on her face. I tried to scoot away, but the back of the chair was against the wall and her hooves were wrapped around my legs.
“Shut up. Enjoy it. I know I will.”
“What are you-DON’T PUT YOUR MOUTH ON THAT! ST-Ahhhh...Ahhhhhhh...Ohhhhh lord...Ahahahaha...”
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Hahaha, called it. I know you too well, Pinkemena.
That's probably a bad thing.
That little twist in the case does make sense and I like the way this turned out. This was a fun chapter, every moment.
This was disturbingly delicious, good sir. Please carry on!
very personal
I've been waiting for this story to update. Was it worth the wait?
Yes.
Yes it was.
Excellent job as always, Creeper. Nice twist too!
Ho. ly. Shite. That was absolutely amazing. I'm not just saying that because I may slightly be a sadist, or any other reason connected to any mental problems I may or may not have, but because this actually was good. There are very few fanfictions which are of length that can be officially considered a novel that get me to fully read them. For the National Novel Writing Month, novels have a minimum of 50,000 words. The Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America has four categories: Short story (Under 7,500 words), Novelette (7,500-17,500 words), Novella (17,500-40,000), and finally, Novels (over 40,000). Mystery novels are generally 60,000-80,000, and thrillers are generally 100,000. I finished this in less than a day, which is rare, even for me. In other words, this is really fucking amazing.
From start to now, this is amazing. I can not wait till the next installment. I think I would have done the same if this asshole was after my own daughter. That release was real.
Keep up the awesome work, Creeper.
This... is perfect
I raise a toast to this torture!
Nice. And yeah, knew him and Pinkamena were gonna get it on at some point.
Post-murder blowjob
Sounds like a real good time
Aww...I was hoping for a far more brutal kill scene for Teller I mean seriously for a case like this it needs to be more brutal hee...hee...hee
I can see you took inspiration from Dexter. Well played man, well played.
This is better than your average fic... Such great quality for its size. I'd usually try one which I find interesting and get bored or disinterested after a couple of chapters. But this was different. Got hooked almost instantly, as if the story itself is a magnet that you'll simply itch to return to without adding any uneccessary cliffhangers or plot twists that don't make any sense in the end. The story is rich in characterization which definitely makes it something fun to read for me. Highly recommended.
This fic is what got me into the fandom in the first place. I'm not even in the fandom anymore, I don't watch the show or write fics and yet for some reason, I still find myself becoming giddy whenever I read another chapter of Daymos' adventures. This fic is what inspired me to start writing in the first, including and beyond FIM Fiction.
You truly are a master, please don't cease work on this masterpiece.
after he'd gone after a dick, his dick was gone after :)
OMNI:BOW CHIKA BOW WOW!!!