Pinkamenace II Society

by jmj

1:4 CupCakes so Sweet and Tasty

Chapter 4

Of the many businesses that had failed in Ponyville, Sugarcube Corner was among the last. The previous owners, Mr. and Mrs. Cake, had one of the best reputations in all of Ponyville. They had always done well with their confectionaries no matter the type. Cakes, Pies, pastries of all sorts, and especially cupcakes all were the epitome of sweet snacks. Everypony in Ponyville had at one time or another tasted the sweet buttery deliciousness that was the treats of Sugarcube Corner. Most ponies would frequent the establishment on a regular basis and the business had even thrived for a short time after the economy had begun to slip. For six years after the Sweet Apple Acres incident, the sweets shop on the corner had struggled to withstand crumbling government, social dilapidation, and economic crisis. For six long years, the Cakes and their assistant, Pinkie Pie, had baked fresh treats for the ponies of Ponyville, holding out hope that things would get better.

Eventually, however, the growing instability had begun to take its toll. Money was drying up and fewer and fewer customers could afford to buy the delicious treats being baked daily. Over time, with Sweets addictions becoming more and more prevalent, the legal sweets of Sugarcube Corner had begun to be thrown out rather than bought. As a result, the basic upkeep of the building had become too much for the talented bakers, who were forced to cut corners. Small repairs to the building were overlooked or patched up with homemade methods. The building did without a fresh coat of paint when the time came and leaks in the roof were ignored. The exterior had faded and here and there, a loose plank hung broken. Some hoodlum had even spray painted the words “Buck Celestia” across the back of the building in large swooping designs, which while artistic, were crude and an eyesore.

Then the crime had begun. After being open for two decades and never having had so much as an argument within its walls, the shop had been robbed thrice in half a year. With each robbery, the perpetrators had taken less money, but had stolen much more. The thieves had stolen the hopes of the bakers. It had gotten to be too much. Their happy town had changed. The ponies whom they used to serve and with whom they used to share smiles and happy conversations had become cold and bitter. They had become Sweets addicts, prostitutes, and thieves.

Despite the steady decline in business, the Cakes had attempted to weather the drought. However, their town had changed too much. They wanted to have foals, but the crime and loss in finances made that prospect less and less likely. The couple had discussed their situation and made a decision. Manehattan was still a bustling metropolis and they had the bits put back to start again. After a hard battle with slumping profits and many years of dedicated service, the shop had closed down.

The Cakes had offered Pinkie Pie the chance to come with them and to start over. They loved her. They treated her as their own daughter and they wanted her to be with them in a new town with fresh faces and pleasant ponies. To give up what they all remembered of their doomed home and try again somewhere else. To their chagrin, the pink earth pony had rejected their offer. She was bouncy and happy and remembered too well what this place used to be. If she only tried harder, if she could throw enough parties, she could turn the tides of depression and sorrow. She believed she could with all her might and, with tears in her eyes, had watched her family leave. She felt as though she were the last beacon of happiness in this sad town. A candle in the night. She would resuscitate this town’s joy and bring it back to happier times! She could do it!

In a final show of affection, the Cakes had left Sugarcube Corner to Pinkie Pie when they went away and she had happily continued to bake small batches of treats for other ponies. She made enough to survive, but meagerly. Pinkie had spent what little extra money she had on a string of parties for anyone who wanted to attend. Pinkie knew everypony in Ponyville and had made sure that they had all been invited. She couldn’t afford snacks, but the music was still blaring and the games still in full effect. To the pink pony’s dismay, the ponies who had showed up weren’t interested in games. They’d gotten drunk, used drugs, or sometimes both and fights had broken out. The first couple of parties had just been excuses to snort, shoot, or smoke illicit substances. The ponies didn’t want to see their friends. Their friends had become their enemies out of greed and crime. She had been forced to watch those she once called friends turn on each other and fight.

She had finally given up and stopped throwing parties after four ponies of the Buckers gang and six of the Kruds had pulled hoofguns, leaving three dead and several more injured. The three who died hadn’t even been in gangs. They had been unfortunate bystanders. The gang members hadn’t wasted a thought on anypony’s welfare before they started shooting and that didn’t change as the hapless ponies had laid bleeding and dying on the floor, balloons and confetti floating in the air around them.

At that moment, the weight of the world had crushed Pinkie Pie. She had realized that nopony could be safe. She had tried to bring them together for fun and games, but they had still only wanted illegal fun and murder. It was hard to see the ponies you loved kill each other for no more reason than the colors they wore. Pinkie Pie blamed herself for the deaths that night and decided she would never throw another party. Her poufy pink hair had fallen flat that night and had never recovered, just like her mood. The outgoing happy Pinkie Pie had died.

If she couldn’t make them happy anymore, Pinkie had decided that she would just live out her days where she had been happiest. She had silently returned to Sugarcube Corner to grieve for the town and all the ponies she used to know. She would stay here with them, remembering how it used to be and hoping it would return someday. She felt she had to stay. She could go to Manehattan, but this was where her friends were. This was where she was supposed to be. Maybe someday things would get better, and when they did, Pinkie would be there to show them how to smile again.

That had been four years ago. Today, Sugarcube Corner looked abandoned and uncared for. The roof was sagging and the bright colors that once adorned the building had become dull and dead. Many of the windows were boarded up and a couple showed only shards of dirty glass where a full pane once existed. All of the windows had thick iron bars on the outside. Graffiti covered the majority of the outside walls from different gangs that had claimed the territory over time. Now and again, a circular opening that could only have been caused by a bullet dotted the building.

Pinkie Pie still lived within the structure, but like the shop itself, had undergone a change for the worse. For several years, she had succumbed to the knowledge that the outside world was a ghost of its former self. Nothing could ever be the same. Her friends had changed into cruel jokes of what they had once been. Desperation had gotten the better of them and turned them into monsters. She couldn’t live in that world. She had always been bright and happy, but the sadness wouldn’t let her go. She couldn’t face the town as it was and being alone was almost worse. She gave in to the melancholy and accepted that she would never again feel joy or throw a party. She would never dance with her friends or giggle at jokes meant to lift spirits.

Slowly, the party pony had stopped pitying those ponies and, instead, had begun to hate them. They had given up on happiness in favor of vices and immorality. Alone, secluded from the others by choice, the pink earth pony had sunk into depression. Without other ponies around to cheer up and make smile, she had been unable to do so for herself. Sorrow had become depression and depression birthed dark thoughts. The once jovial pony submitted to those ideas born from grief. What had she done to deserve this? Nothing. They were the ones who had balked in a time of need, not her. She had only wanted to help them and they had turned her gleeful pastime into a blood bath.

She hated them. They had ruined her life. If she could profit from their miseries then she would. Time had not only crushed her spirit, but also warped her into that which she had been trying to fight. She had become darker, just like them. Pinkie Pie had begun studying how to create drugs from household chemicals and, over short few months, had nearly perfected it. They wouldn’t buy her cupcakes and pies, but she knew the Ponyville scum would buy her new creations.

Pinkamena, she never called herself Pinkie anymore, took a small square cake of pink powder and crushed it into a fine pile with her hoof. Excitedly she formed thin lines and snorted the pink powder into her nostrils. She felt the burn sweep through her head as if her brain was catching fire. She leaned her head back with a grimace, flat pink hair falling around her face. The powder was mixing with the wetness of her sinuses and she coughed weakly as it drained down the back of her throat, spreading the burning sensation. The heat felt good, it burnt her body to set her soul free. She didn’t quite smile, but grinned in a sickly manner. Her eyes squeezed tightly and a tear rolled down her cheek as the burning drugs rushed through her system.

The pink pony fell to her back on the dirty tile floor littered with drug- making apparatus. Her eyes remained closed as she waited patiently for the images to begin rolling through her mind. This wasn’t anything new for Pinkamena. Since she was a filly, she had seen things the other ponies didn’t. She hadn’t minded, though—they were happy, bright, and colorful things that had always made her giggle in delight. The other ponies hadn’t minded, either. They had just enjoyed the benefits—the old Pinkie’s bubbly attitude and relentless pursuit of fun. Pinkamena, however, didn’t see those images anymore unless she was high and then they were twisted versions of themselves. What had once been visions of friendship and laughter were now mutations of happiness writhing and prancing about her vision, beckoning her to join them in their twisted gyrations.

Mourning was for the weak and Pinkie would not be weak again. In many ways, the loss of those childish thoughts of friendship and loyalty had forged a stronger version of herself. Pinkamena was strong, tough, and the darkness that enveloped her life only sharpened the razor’s edge that she had become. Now, in many ways, she was like most ponies living in the ghetto. If she couldn’t make them happy, she would be like them. Miserable, deranged, dark.

The visions began to dance behind her eyelids, prompting her to open the shades that trapped them within her mind and splay them across a new theatre. Her icy blue eyes snapped open to the yellowed ceiling that hung sickly, in places, with bloated sagging swellings from years of leak neglect. A small animal darted across the ceiling. It was a sort of amalgamation of bird and rat. Hairy, but with a large beak full of sharp teeth. It scampered to and fro before opening its mouth impossibly wide and expelling its insides out to become a grinning face.

“Pinkie…you want to dance with me?” The face began to stretch until it covered the entire ceiling. Its eyes narrowed and one burst, spilling violet blood down and into its own mouth. A snake-like tongue flicked out and up into the empty socket, still grinning.

Pinkamena spoke to the image, “Yes…show me how to dance again. Show me…what I need to do.” Her mind made sense of the garbled words she had uttered in reality, “I like dancing…”

The vile image finished lapping its empty socket and began to laugh, “You already are.” Its voice was full of menace and it mocked her. The face split apart and showed Pinkamena herself pulling the trigger of a hoofgun and blasting apart shadows in the shape of ponies. They cried out in pain as they exploded. They tried to run, but Pinkamena was far too good a shot to be eluded that easily. The running shadows met their fate quickly and Pinkamena turned the gun on herself.

Pinkamena’s body grinned from the grimy floor as she watched the bullet come from the gun in slow motion and split her head apart. She watched the bullet twist into her forehead, right between her eyes. It dug in deeply and the flesh gave in, tearing a little at first and then ripping away as her skull cracked and broke apart. Suddenly, the view changed and she could see what the bullet would have seen if it had eyes.

She tore along ridges of gray matter, making them ripple and burst as she passed. An odor like burning hair stunk up the inside of her brain and she understood why she had shot herself. Her brain was rotting. She was rotting. It was a mercy.

It seemed like she ripped through her brain for hours, separating synapses and connections to deeper areas that controlled everything from speech to motions. Then, on the horizon, was a high domed wall. It was the back of her skull and she, the bullet, picked up speed preparing to collide with that wall. She braced herself for impact and met the wall head on, shattering it and sending it flying, like pieces of a broken mirror outlined with dark pink clumps of hair. She could hear laughing in the distance and…what was that? That burnt hair smell was far too overpowering now. What….the…?

“BUCK!” Pinkamena jerked from the floor violently, slapping her right ear on top of her head. The smell of burning hair was strong in the room and she rubbed at the sizzling ear. She twisted her gaze to the single coil of the portable cooking range. She had passed out right next to it and rolled her ear onto its red glowing eye. She must have forgotten to turn it off. The buzz must have been wearing off, because things were lucid enough; only specks jumped around in her vision now. Her trip was reaching its end and she felt tired from the taxation that the drug had placed on her body.

The pink pony with long, darker pink hair clicked the range off and studied the pile of tiny pink cakes wrapped in cellophane in front of her. This batch was good. It provided visual and auditory hallucinations. It was better than the last batch that she had deposited to the streets. This was a winner. Ponies would spend a lot for this stuff. Maybe she couldn’t make cakes from sugar and flour anymore, but she was proving to be truly great baker of chemicals. She would make cakes again, just a different kind. The kind that these ponies were more than willing to buy. She had always heard her baked goods were habit forming, but these were straight up addictive. She was going to be a baker again, damn it. She would make ponies feel something, even if it was only for a short time.

Pinkamena, she thought, you will be in demand once again. But now, you take a nap.

***

Something made noise in the other room and snapped Pinkamena from the sleep into which she had fallen. She had evidently been struggling in her sleep, because all of the cooking tools were pushed away in an oval around the pony. Pinkamena cocked her head, her sore ear perking up as she sat up from the makeshift drug lab on the kitchen floor. “Shy…is that you?” Pinkamena was almost certain it was. Fluttershy lived with her, after all. She had been for the last year.

The yellow-coated mare slowly entered the room, her eyes down as if she had done something wrong and expected punishment. “Oh…um, yes. Sorry if I bothered you. I...uh …wanted to talk to you.” Her voice was scared. It was always scared. It annoyed Pinkamena to no end, but Fluttershy was the only pony she allowed into her life and she would bear the minor annoyances. If it weren’t for the pegasus, Pinkamena would have gone completely mad by this point. In some ways, the pink pony knew that part of her still longed to have company and Fluttershy was it.

They had been friends in better days, but the times had made life hard for Pinkie. She had been trying to save Sugarcube Corner, while Fluttershy was afraid of what was happening in Ponyville and had secluded herself in her home as long as she could. Pinkamena recalled their meeting. It had been an accident running into the yellow pegasus mare on the streets.

Fluttershy had been having an increasingly difficult time paying her rent as times had gotten hard. She barely made the monthly payments after she bought food for her animals and herself. Over time, she began to miss payments altogether and the landlord visited her on several occasions threatening to kick her out. He would have done so without a thought if another renter would have taken the small house on the edge of Everfree forest, but few ponies were willing to live that far out. Then came the offer.

A group of ponies had offered a higher price for the house, triple the rent Fluttershy paid per month. These ponies knew how to make meth and planned to use the house for their laboratory. The landlord was a businesspony and greedy; he didn’t care about their plans for the house as long as they paid the price quoted. If they were ever caught, he could feign ignorance and rent the house again later. It was a better plan than maybe getting his rent every other month from the insipid yellow pegasus. He might even sell the place to them if they made an offer. He gleefully kicked Fluttershy out. A month later, the meth lab exploded, killing the ponies renting the place and completely destroying the house.

Fluttershy had tried staying in the Everfree forest with her animal friends, but quickly changed her mind when a band of wolves attacked her in her sleep. She had tried reasoning with them, but they only wanted her meat, not her friendship. They leapt at her before she could gain flight and Angel Bunny had sacrificed himself in order to allow her time to escape.

The confidence and bravery the small bunny possessed was a thing of legend. He had dove from his friend’s pink mane and kicked the first wolf in between the eyes, ricocheting off and planting his balled paw into the jaw of the next. The small creature then bit down into a third wolf, making it yelp loudly before the pack descended upon him.

Fluttershy had wandered the streets of Ponyville for nearly a month, hiding from nearly everypony. She ate from garbage cans and slept under cardboard boxes at night. One night, she awoke to two thugs dragging her out from under her makeshift shelter. They chattered excitedly about what they could do to her as she curled into a ball, pleading with them to leave her alone. They didn’t. One of them produced a bottle of lighter fluid and sprayed her with the reeking fluid until she was sopping from the slick liquid. She covered her eyes and cried, facing her demise. How could they be so mean? She waited to be burnt. Once they were pleased with her dampness, they struck a lighter and…

Pinkamena had been out for the biggest part of the day. At this point, she had a reputation for not taking shit. She had been assaulted a couple times and had left ponies dead because of it. She could become vicious when she needed to be. She carried a hoofgun with her whenever she was forced to leave her home for supplies. Most of the time, ponies left her alone and she, in solitude, walked the streets unabated. The cries of a mare in danger meant little to her, but for some reason, this time was different. She had turned to see what crime was playing out in the dirty alley. Usually she would have kept going, ignoring the whole scene, as it was fairly common now. That’s when she recognized the yellow pegasus mare. Some emotion streaked down Pinkamena’s body, a feeling long lost, a sudden need to defend. She stepped into the alley, silently placing her steps and moving closer to the scene, drawing her gun. She smelled lighter fluid and they were joking about fried pegasus wings. One of them had a lighter. They planned to burn her. They were going to burn Fluttershy, a mare who in her entire life had never hurt anypony. How this scum was wrong. They were going to pay. They were going to die.

A hoofgun fired twice. One of the offenders fell in a heap and the other ran as fast as he could from the scene. Fluttershy cried in the alley and waited for the flames to eat her alive. The loud blasts horrified and confused her. Was she shot? Were they just tormenting her before they lit her body on fire? She lay shivering for a long time before opening an eye to see a pink mare standing over her with a smoking gun, one of the ponies who had attacked her lying dead a few feet away. Moments passed before she recognized her one time friend. She hadn’t seen her in years, ever since Sugarcube Corner had closed. She thought she had moved away with the Cakes. She looked up with tears in her eyes, her voice pleading for help, “Pinkie…”

Fluttershy was the only one allowed to call her that name now. That name was only a reminder of who she used to be, something she could never be again. Something about Fluttershy saying it was different. Instead of the normal anger that worked its way from her gut at the utterance of her former alias, a calm sensation swept over her when Fluttershy spoke that name.

Pinkamena had taken the yellow pegasus to her home in Sugarcube Corner and cleaned the stinking liquid from her coat. Fluttershy had kept telling Pinkamena how sorry she was for being a burden to her and she kept using the name Pinkie Pie. Fluttershy kept saying she would leave and find somewhere else to go. Maybe back to Cloudsdale, even though she had hated it before. At least it would be safe and maybe she would be able to help with the weather.

Pinkamena knew better. Fluttershy, as pegasi went, was about as effective as a paper bag. She would never find a job using her wings. She was weak and lacked any sort of confidence, useless in almost every aspect but…she made Pinkamena feel something deep inside her. She felt just a hint of who she used to be. She had a pony with whom to talk. It had been so long since Pinkamena had even spoken to another pony that, when she addressed Fluttershy, the sound of her own voice was almost alien. She still didn’t laugh…at least not in joy, but she wasn’t completely alone. She did not let Fluttershy leave. She told her she would stay in Sugarcube Corner and that Pinkie…ugh…would keep her safe.

Coming back to the present time, Pinkamena rubbed her sore ear and sighed, frustrated, “Shy, you don’t have to apologize for coming into the kitchen. You have been here long enough to walk wherever you want. In some ways, if you were to wake me up by slapping me I would be happier.” Pinkamena’s tone was only slightly abrasive, but it was enough to make the yellow pegasus cringe.

“I’m sorry. Pinkie…”

Pinkamena only rolled her eyes, bringing a hoof up to cover her forehead. “Sorry, sorry, sorry. I just said you don’t have to apologize for everything you do. Just walk in here and say ‘Wake the buck up, bitch, I have something to say.’”

“Oh no, I could never say that, Pinkie, especially not to you. You’re so, umm, nice to me after all, letting me live here and everything.” Fluttershy barely worked up the courage to look into Pinkie’s eyes as she spoke.

“I don’t let you live here. I want you to live here. There’s a difference. I don’t just let ponies live here.” She stood up and stretched, looking over the mess in the floor. She would have to clean it up. She wanted to make more of the cakes soon, but everything would have to be sterilized first. One wrong chemical could end up killing ponies instead of making them see visions. Half-interested, she asked, “What were you wanting to talk about?”

Fluttershy grimaced at the drug-making equipment. She didn’t really like it, but she accepted it because it was how Pinkie had made enough bits for them to live. Recently she had found a new recipe and it had been selling well. That was the problem.

While Pinkamena napped in the kitchen, Fluttershy had been visited by one of her animal friends, a fat squirrel. Although she had long since left her happy home at the edge of Everfree, Fluttershy’s ever-loyal animal friends had kept watch over her, listening to other ponies in case they ever planned to do something to her or, now, to her protector. Fluttershy had tried to dissuade her beloved animal friends from such a vigil, but they wouldn’t heed her pleas. Although she worried about their safety, it was comforting to the timid mare to know she might have notice in case somepony planned to break in, rob, or hurt her or Pinkie. Ponyville had changed drastically and she realized that her best means of dealing with a threat was to not be there when it appeared. Although she hated the thought of one of these helpless animals being hurt trying to keep watch over her, she was able to fall asleep somewhat more easily at night because of it. Up until now, she had never heard anything scary from her voluntary network of spies, but now it seemed something had happened.

The squirrel accepted a small acorn from Fluttershy and in its squirrel ways explained what it had overheard at Sweet Apple Acres. Most ponies thought the smaller animals unintelligent because they could not speak, but this wasn’t quite true. They could understand basic ideas. This squirrel knew that Fluttershy and Pinkamena made little pink cakes and that a lot of ponies were…eating(?)…them. These ponies usually ate a powder that the orange mare in the apple orchard made. It had heard the orange mare and a red stallion discussing why their powder wasn’t being eaten as much. They seemed angry about it and determined to find out who was behind it. The squirrel had scampered into Ponyville, using its secret paths, and to Sugarcube Corner to tell its pegasus friend.

Fluttershy watched the pink earth pony pick up and place the apparatus into a sink, turning on the hot water to let them soak. She was scared. She didn’t want something bad to happen to Pinkie. Pinkie was her only pony friend and her savior. She couldn’t just let Applejack find her. Applejack, once her trusted friend, had changed drastically after Sweet Apple Acres almost went under. Fluttershy was afraid of her now because of the many rumors about what she did to ponies who crossed her. Fluttershy tried not to believe the rumors, but they were so terrifying that she had never worked up the courage to see Applejack again. She tried to form the words and stammered out a pathetic squeak.

“What?” Pinkie had turned her head to hear Fluttershy better but didn’t look around, beginning to scour the glass bowls and beakers with a scrub pad.

“I said…the cakes. They…other ponies are…” The thought of saying, “Pinkie, Applejack might come and kill you if she finds out you are cutting into her business,” was horrifying to Fluttershy. She didn’t want to say it and, when she tried, it stuck in her throat and formed a heavy ball. A tear spilled down her cheek as she thought about Applejack killing Pinkie.

Pinkamena worked a slender pipe cleaner though some tubing as she spoke, excitement in her voice, “That new batch is very potent. I think it will sell even better. I think we have the recipe to really start making some bits. If this sells as well as that last batch, we will have to find an outside source to market them. I won’t be able to do it alone. As much as I hate to deal with anypony, I’ll have to sell it to a dealer.”

Fluttershy gasped. A dealer could roll over on them if Applejack got to him! Then she would come for Pinkie. Things just got worse. Pinkie wanted to sell her cakes in larger quantities! Applejack was already noticing a loss in business; she would surely notice this if what Pinkie said was true. Better quality meant more business, more business would hurt Applejack, and then Applejack would find out who was supplying the new drug and come hurt them! “But…my squirrel friend…Applejack!”

Pinkie stopped washing the utensils and turned with a confused and concerned gaze, “Your squirrel friend, Applejack?” Her voice was deeper than it used to be, more serious. She watched Fluttershy for a moment. “I thought you didn’t do anything hard, Fluttershy? Did you try one of my cakes?” A small smirk rode on her cheek. She sort of hoped Fluttershy had begun to snort some of the cakes she made, as it might mellow her out a little. The thought crashed and burned, however, after Pinkamena recalled her last drug-induced dream. Fluttershy probably would have died of fright.

Fluttershy stomped her front hooves lightly against the tiled floor and bolstered herself to spit out the words over which she kept fumbling, “My squirrel friend heard Applejack and Big Mac talking about somepony cutting into their business. They are looking for YOU, Pinkie! They’ll kill us both if they find out!” She spoke quickly and with only a small amount of quivering. She hoped Pinkie would understand the severity of the situation.

Pinkie turned back to the dishes and grinned to herself. She liked the idea that her goods were causing Applejack to worry. That meant she would get recognition for her baking once more. Pinkamena Diane Pie’s Cakes, better than any Sweets you’ve ever had. The thought was delicious and her pupils shrank to pinholes as she swam through the dream.

“We should be Careful, Flutters. We don’t want that. I’ll think of something. Don’t worry your sweet little head over it; I am going to be back on top.” The pink pony’s mind raced with ideas. She was going to rise like dough in this pit. She would make all the ponies of Ponyville crave her cakes again...

Confection or Contraband, either was fine.

Comments

[Silent Breeze]

The organized Apple Famile vs homemade Pink Cakes. Lets see how the struggle will come out.

Very good background for Pinkie's descent. So Pinkie's the brute and mastermind all at the same time, while Fluttershy's the info gatherer. Can't wait to see how they'll continue to slip under the radar, considering how many ponies buying her stuff.