Rarity is missing... Sebastian knows that Pinkie Pie is still alive. After recieving a letter, it's no doubt that the psychopath pony is back to finish what she started. Unfortunately for Sebatian nopony believes him.
It's up to Sebatian to rescue Rarity, nay the entire kingdom of Equestria, from the clutchess of Pinkie Pie before it's too late. But will she prove to be too much for everyone's favorite biohazard bunny???
A/N: The character Sebastian is an OC. To find out more check out the descripion in the prequel to this story: Sweet Insanity.
Sweet Insanity: Hair-Trigger Madness By John Keith Bone
“Oh my God…” This wasn’t possible… It couldn’t be. Pinkie was dead! I killed her myself! But the note had her signature. The handwriting couldn’t have belonged to anyone else!! Several moments passed before I could gather my shattered thoughts, but when I did, I bolted for the police station. I had to speak to the investigator that questioned me after I got out of the hospital! He HAD to know something! The eyes of the investigator, a well-built, white-coated stallion wandered my distressed features for several moments before he stood.
“Sebastian, you need to relax.” He stated in a calm, official manner.
“Relax!? How the hell am I supposed to relax!? She’s got Rarity, man!” I roared at him, waving my arms in the air in indignation.
“Sebastian, you probably still haven’t gotten over the incident. You said you bashed her head in, how could anyone have survived that?” the officer asked.
“It doesn’t matter how she survived, she’s going to kill someone else! Look!!” I shoved the note into his hoof, which he looked over carefully, his brow cinching with each passing moment.
“This is…” he began, but I cut him off.
“Yes! It’s real! Don’t you get it!?” His eyes set in that hard manner that comes with many late, pensive nights and years of police training. He didn’t believe me… Even with the concrete evidence right in his face! After a long silence, he told me not to worry and all but shoved me out of his office. I didn’t take too well to his being so pushy, but I didn’t have much choice.
If the police won’t help me, then I need to find someone who will. But who? After several minutes of pensive walking, I found myself thinking in circles. Nobody I knew would be able to assist me on such a task…
I really wish Jinx were here right now… I thought. She’d already be on a lead… Lead… Leader… LEADER!! THE MAYOR!!! She could help me put together a force! At this thought, I bolted. Several ponies cast me odd glances as I ducked and dodged my way down the street. A quick dive beneath an oncoming cart and a hop over another coming at an adjacent angle put me squarely at the edge of the sidewalk, but I still had a lot of ground to cover. Several minutes passed before I arrived at the tall porcelain structure. The mayor’s home was a place that few frequented, but many knew well. If I hadn’t been so alarmed, I would’ve stood in awe of the amazing gothic architecture and perfectly kept lawn, but it wasn’t the time for that. Instead, I charged the door like a madman and began pounding the wooden frame. However, once my fist met the thing, it creaked open. This sobered me up enough for me to stop breathing as hard as I poked my head inside. The place was dark as night and a thin layer of dust had settled over everything. The air was stale, as though nobody had opened a door for weeks! My nose twitched as I took in a faint metallic scent. As I stepped into the hall, a familiar silence filled my ears… The silence of a tomb. This house had a heavy atmosphere of fear and calamity… With quick glances into the smoking room, and bar-like area, I began tip-toeing my way toward the common area. Nobody was in there either… A small gasp caught my attention, causing me to turn to the kitchen door. Heavy, fearful breathing sporadically sounded from within… It had to be the mayor… Still, more likely than not, it was a trap… The fire poker at the base of the fireplace in the common area became my weapon as I approached the room in question. Sure enough, it was the mayor, but there was definitely something wrong. The kitchen was decorated with that familiar, twisted, distinctly Pinkie Pie way. Blood was splayed about the floor in small pools, organs with tied to the back of chairs and the message “Welcome home, Sebastian” was inscribed on the wall in blood. The mare had a death grip on the hilt of a butcher knife and a few superficial cuts to her face as well as the look of someone who’d just seen death for the first time in their life in her dilated eyes. The necklace of unicorn horns that hung from her neck was a striking resemblance to the one Pinkie wore in our last encounter, but these seemed fresh… So fresh in fact, that the blood on the ends had just begun to coagulate. My approach was very careful, quiet and calculated. Even though I was very clearly in the poor mare’s line of sight, it was as though she didn’t see me…
“Miss Mayor? Are you alright?” I asked, coming to a crouch a few feet away from her. She was mumbling incoherent phrases, seemingly in Latin, but I couldn’t be sure. As far as I knew, the mayor was irreligious… As I reached out to her, she startled, gasping loudly as though snapping back to reality in an instant.
“Sebastian!” she exclaimed, finally tearing her gaze from the nondescript point she was staring at.
“Ma’am, listen-” The frightened mare dropped her weapon and took a hold of my collar.
“Pinkie Pie is still alive!” she cried at the top of her lungs. She knew! But how…? The mayor began frantically searching the dusty floor about her, shoving a bloodied note card in my grasp.
Dear Sebastian, Surprised, aren’t you? I have to say, you were the most fun I ever had. You actually escaped! I applaud your skill, but the sales plummeted in the since I was gone, and I want you, my bestest friend, to watch my return! I even threw you this great homecoming party! I hope you like your present! - Pinkamena Diane Pie P.S. Behind you. I dropped the note and spun around at the ready to swing the poker like a baseball bat, only to startle at what was presented to me. A rusty cage had been bolted to the wall, in which was hung a small unicorn filly with a white coat and purple mane, highlighted with a light pink. I knew her. I knew her well…
“Sweetie Belle!” I exclaimed, dropping my poker to help the unconscious pony out of her dreadful situation. The cage was unlocked, thank God, but as I reached for the little thing, her eyes snapped open. I wasn’t even able to register what happened before the broke the leather restraints that held her in place and leaped onto my face, scratching blindly and roaring like a maniac. I cried out and fell backward at the sudden weight and impact on my face, but feeling her sharpened hooves scraping into my cheeks and brow brought forth another cry and forced my arms into motion. I rolled about, grappling with my young assailant for several moments before finally managing to throw her off. She went into a phlegm-filled coughing spell as she got to her feet, glaring at me.
“Sweetie Belle, what’s the matter with you!?” I demanded, wiping the blood from the new cut over my left eyebrow. Much to my surprise, a loud thud sounded at the door. Before I could manage to turn my head, a hoard of police descended upon us. I was cuffed as well as Sweetie, but she put up one heck of a fight. The wild filly managed to do to an officer what Apple Bloom did to me and swallowed the larger part of the right side of his face. The officer was still wailing and rolling about when we were escorted out. After a short investigation of the scene and a drawn-out taking of my statement, I was released. The officer that released me told me that if I wanted to speak to Sweetie, to head to Sweet Apple Acres. The trek out to the town’s resident apple farm was one done in silence. I still hadn’t gotten over what I did to the Apple Family. Apple Jack had cast me a knowing look when the news was broken to her about Bloom’s death. She knew something was wrong with her sister, but could never explain what. The chunk of my cheek that was missing when she saw me after the incident had told her all she needed to know. She never cried, but the sadness was heavy in her eyes…
Apple Jack had met me at the door of the stables, still wearing her mourning dress and hat. The black, lacey thing spoke of a slightly gothic Lolita style, and complemented her natural curves. The hat was quite literally an exact replica of the ten-gallon she always wore, only dyed black. She looked good, even in mourning.
“Hey there, Seb.” She greeted with a smile.
“Hey, Apple Jack.”
“Here tah talk to Sweetie Belle?” I nodded solemnly, awaiting the horror that I was to be met with on the other side of the bright red door. She led me in, bringing me to a stable made of reinforced glass. The high-grade bulletproof kind that was used only in making windows for the cars and houses of government officials.
Jeez. High grade for such a small filly… Sweetie Belle had been strapped down to a table of sorts, made from several old planks that had been sanded smooth. The rough leather that held the little devil in place were obviously makeshifts from Big Macintosh’s of saddle stirrups. Her eyes fixed on me as though she could bore a hole in me with them, and beneath the muzzle, I could just make out a wicked smile.
“Sebastian.” Sweetie Belle greeted with a nod.
“Sweetie Belle.” I returned the nod.
“I know, I know, you’re really mad at me for biting you. I was just playing.” She began, but I cut her off. I was running short on time and patience.
“Where is Pinkie? Where has she taken Rarity?” My voice was gruff and my brow set in a very intense stare. If this little gremlin wouldn’t tell me, I could easily just invade her mind and take the answer and even make it an unpleasant experience for her. The blank-flank scowled and tilted her head at me.
“What’s it matter to you?” That put me just a little bit on edge.
“WHERE IS RARITY!!!?” I roared, slamming my fist against the glass. Sweetie apparently found this amusing and burst into sadistic laughter.
“You really care, don’t you!? Fine, I’ll tell you. You remember where you fought last time, don’t you?” I nodded, knowing where this was going.
“You’re going to go, aren’t you? To get her back?” she asked. I didn’t even grace her with an answer, but instead simply turned and walked out. Apple Jack stood outside, leaning against the barn door, seemingly lost in another thought.
“Apple Jack. Does your family own any guns? Any weapons of any kind?” The rancher startled and shot me a look of complete and utter shock.
“Why do you need a gun, Sebastian!?” My resolve was unwavering, and my eye intense.
“Because as soon as I lay eye on that pink bitch, I’m gonna make sure she’s not getting up again.” The blonde pony’s eyes fixed upon my own for several moments before she spoke, but when she did, her voice was hushed and rather breathy. She knew what I was about to do… It was as though she was giving me a last rite.
“Okay, Seb… Come with me.” She led me out, over the field Macintosh was plowing. It seemed that even he knew my intentions and stopped to stand and wave his hoof. His eyes were more solemn than usual.
“Workin’ hard, Big Mac?” I called to him.
“Eeyup.” he responded. “Good luck, Bunny Boy.” Once in the house itself, my dear friend lead my through many twists and turns until coming to an old, cracked, and decrepit door.
“This room was my father’s trophy room. He was a truly great hunter. I hope his spirit guides you, Sebastian…” she said, and pushed the frame open. Apple Jack did not at all over-state her father’s hunting ability. Almost any kind of game a hunter could imagine: wolves, bears, elk, tigers, lions, antelope, and even a few wild dragons were stuffed and posed all throughout this sanctuary of victory. Each one had a cartridge and gun of some kind propped near it. Jack led me to one of the dragons, taking up what appeared to be a double-barreled shotgun of some kind.
“This one gave him a real hard time, but he got him after about a week on safari. He’d want a good hunter to have it…” she handed me the rifle, which much to my surprise and delight was a Ravensdale .50 caliber double-barreled Dragon Bane. A safari rifle designed specifically to kill ultra-tough game like dragons, harpies, and hydras. I’d never actually fired one, but it wouldn’t matter. Not with what I had in mind…
“Thank you, Apple Jack…” I mumbled quietly, in awe of the weapon in my grasp.
“Wait. There’s one more, and you’re really going to like this one.” When I turned, Jack held in her hooves a large, hand-crafted box. Within its red velvet folds lay a long revolver. A Colt .44 Magnum with six custom rounds, each in their own fold... A relic… Beyond antique… The gun presented to me was probably well over three hundred years old… And she was offering it to me…
“No, Apple Jack, I can’t…” I began, but the cowfilly was insistent, pressing the box toward me.
“Please, Sebastian… As a gift. I want you to have it.” Those eyes were ones I could never say no to. Not after what I’d done to her family. I propped the rifle back against the dragon and took hold of the ivory grip. The thing was beautiful! Its still-gleaming chrome finish, perfectly embroidered barrel and sheer feel of tradition had an almost religious effect on me. It was as though God himself was bestowing the power to defeat my foes to me.
My Lord, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name… Thy kingdom come… Thy Will be done… On Earth, as it is in Heaven… Give us this, our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who’ve… Trespassed against us… For yours is the kingdom, the power and the glory, forever and ever… Amen. As I slowly loaded each round into a chamber of the cylinder, Apple Jack closed the case and set it down, wrapping her arms about my neck. Closing the weapon, I craned my head about to look her in the eyes, then embraced her. She was shivering violently and her breathing became sporadic and shallow, as though she was holding back tears.
“Apple Jack, I’ll come back. You know I will. I always do.” I whispered the promise into her ear as though I were talking to a lover. She shuddered at the intensity of the words.
“I know you will, but… Could you do this… For Apple Bloom…?” she requested without allowing me to see her face; no doubt streaming with tears. It took me several moments before I spoke, but the words finally came to me.
“It won’t bring Apple Bloom back… But if it will bring you closure… I will.” That did it. My dear friend broke into sobs against my shoulder, shuddering and shaking as though her legs had given out. We stood in that spot for several moments, embracing as I awaited the end of her sobbing spell. Once she regained her composure, Apple Jack handed me four .50 caliber rounds.
“Good luck, Sebastian.” She said, placing her hoof on my shoulder.
I took the rounds, pocketing two but loading the other two into the breach of the Dragon Bane. Before I turned to leave, I threw my arms about Apple Jacks waist and planted a hard, closing kiss heavy with finality. Her eyes fluttered for a moment but closed after a moment. Once I broke contact, my gaze fixed in hers I whispered.
“I’m sorry.” That was the moment Big Macintosh chose to burst into the room, waving his hooves about like a madstallion.
“Sweetie Belle is missing!!” he cried frantically.
“Relax, Mac. I know where she’s going.” He stopped immediately, his deep yellow eyes growing solemn.
“Think you can beat her?” he asked.
“With this,” I gestured to the rifle in my hands, “It’ll be a cinch.”
“Good. Go get ‘em.” Fifteen minutes later, I was back in my room at home, rifling through my wardrobe for something that could conceal the weapons the Apple family had so graciously given to me. After a fourth pass, I settled on my old frock coat. Within the midnight-hued stitches laid many a dark memory, as well as my finest times… It was a gift to me from none other than my dear mistress, Alice.
I should call her… The sweet sound of the youthful dormouse’s voice made me melt inside as she gave a very cheery greeting.
“Hello~!?”
“Alice.” My voice came across as more business-like as I meant, and she caught on immediately.
“You’re going to do something dangerous, aren’t you, Sebastian?” she asked, the cheer in her voice that I so loved hearing being replaced by a solemnity that didn’t suit her beautiful face at all.
“Yes, M’lady… I’m sorry… But Pinkie must be brought down. No longer can I allow her to trot about Equestria killing whomever she pleases. The royal guards are scared stiff of her, and the local police are even more useless than they are. I killed her once, Lady Alice. I just have to kill her again.” A long silence passed between us before Alice spoke again. Her voice was thick as though she was fighting back tears.
“Sebastian… Please be careful.” The request was simple, yet I knew there were millions of imperatives within it.
“I will. But Alice… If I don’t come back-”
“Don’t say that! You will come back!! I know you will!!” she was on the verge of a total breakdown, it was clear.
“I love you.” I stated as cooly as I could manage. A gasp came from my mistress followed by a long silence. Once it was clear she wouldn’t speak, I began again.
“I just thought you should know that… Would you pray with me?”
“O-oh!” she stammered. “Yes…” I bowed my head then and closed my eyes.
“God? I know I’ve been a very carnal Baptist in my time, but I need you now… You allowed me to live after Pinkie and my last encounter, and I never thanked you. I’m sorry… But this time, I’m not stumbling in blindly… I know exactly where I’m going… What I’ll see… Who I will send you to judge… What they’ve done is something I cannot bring myself to forgive… I know in your Word, it states that forgiveness is a Godly virtue, but it’s not one I posses when it comes to people such as these… But if I don’t succeed in my endeavor… I ask you to take care of Alice… And… If I come to your gates soon… Take me into Heaven… Forgive me my trespasses… Save my soul… And please keep my hand steady and my aim true…” with a shuddering breath I finished. “Amen.” Alice was the first to hang up. No doubt, she was throwing herself into the arms of Marin, a trusted servant of the Ravensdale household to sob her heart out… I looked in the mirror in search of potential hiding places for the guns, however, the dark-furred rabbit I saw looking back at me was not the one who came to Equestria. No, this was a man who’d seen too much. Who was about to do something terrible. My deep onyx fur seemed a shade darker, my hollow, silver eye filled with hate, and the scowl that was plastered on my face seemed to have been etched there my whole life. This was the Sebastian Cornelius Cooper that fought Professor Q. This was not the real me. Not that happy, floppy-eared bunny from Terra All Boys. No… This was the rabbit they called the “Biohazard Bunny”.
By the time I arrived at Sugar Cube Corner, night had fallen and I was little more than a ghost moving through the shadows. I walked down the darkened road in absolute silence. Each step that drew me closer to the bakery was one of meticulous planning and calculation. Every possible scenario, every outcome, every turn of events I considered. Once I was within a block, I began singing lowly to myself.
“Show me how to lie, you’re getting better all the time at turning all against one, it’s an art that’s hard to teach… Another clever word sets off an unsuspecting herd, and as you step back into line, a mob jumps to their feet… Now dance, sucker, dance, man, they never had a chance and no-one ever knew, it was really only you. And now you steal away… Take her out today… Nice work ya did… You’re gonna go far, kid. With a thousand lies and a good disguise, hit ‘em right between the eyes, hit ‘em right between the eyes! When you walk away; nothing more to say, see the lightning in your eyes; See ‘em runnin’ FOR THEIR LIVES…..” The Corner’s lights were still lit and three small shadows were moving about the shop. They were there. Waiting, in all probability. I shed my bandage, allowing the crimson eye and it’s inky black biohazard in place of my pupil and iris beneath to open and ready itself at the door and paused for the last time. This was it. Do or die. Reaching back into the tails of my coat, I drew and loaded the Dragon Bane.
“Heaven or Hell. LET’S ROCK!!!” I declared as if to God himself was listening.
My boot met the door with enough force to propel the thing off its hinges and to the other side of the bakery. I stepped in quickly, rifle already at my cheek, swinging around to find a mark. “Hah there, Sebas-chun.” The voice came from my right. Still keeping the stock of the rifle to my cheek, I spied Apple Bloom sitting atop a table, legs crossed in a relaxed manner, in a dress of hide emblazoned with the cutie marks of what I believed to be her past victims. She looked strikingly like Pinkie Pie… Wait a minute…
“I killed you.” I stated matter-of-factly. The yellow filly nodded and hopped down from her perch, spinning in a small circle as though to show off a new garment.
“You did. But Mistress Pinkie got that Zecora lady to bring me back.” She replied. My gaze drifted over her for a moment before my left eye registered the metal in her back.
“And Pinkie fused your back back together. I guess even Equestrian magic can’t fix all of lives troubles.” She nodded once more.
“Yer good. Now enough talk. Rarity won’t make a dress outta ‘erself, y’know.” Bloom’s eyes were intense and she was ready to pounce. I’d made the mistake of letting her in close once and it cost me dearly. This time, I wasn’t taking any chances. With a twitch of my finger, the recoil of the .50 round slammed into my shoulder. Any normal person would have been rocked backward at such an impact, but I was far from normal. It had little more effect on me than a tap on the shoulder. As the round found its mark between her eyes, Apple Bloom disappeared in a mist of red. A presence registered off to my immediate left where Sweetie Belle was charging toward me wearing a garment similar to Bloom’s. Just like the previous shot, when the massive slug of lead met its mark, my second assailant was little more than a blood stain on the wall. I was out of bullets, so I had to improvise as an orange-coated filly launched herself from the check-out counter at me. Her name was Scootaloo. She was still in school and a blank-flank just like her friends. She was the newest member of this sick little group… In a capacity different from this one, they called themselves the Cutie Mark Crusaders. Pinkie had used their drive to find who they really are to help her “make cupcakes”. All of this was revealed to me in the split-second my gaze had lingered on her. Quickly shifting my grip on the gun from stock to barrel, I swung the weapon as though it were a baseball bat. The hard, lacquered wood stock slammed into her temple, causing it to snap to the side, her neck bend at an awkward angle. Her tiny frame changed direction and flew into the wall adjacent wall, going totally limp. Once the adrenaline had settled, I looked about at the damage. Two fillies had been blown into oblivion and another lay against the wall, her neck shattered. The rifle had met Scootaloo’s head with such force that it actually bent the barrel… It would be useless to keep such a damaged piece, so I tossed it aside.
“Requiem in pace.” I hissed, giving a half-hearted sign of the cross. My focus was then turned to the trapdoor that was hidden beneath the rug behind the counter. With the yank I gave it, the entire plank system came up with a snap. Trudging down the familiar staircase, the memories of the fight with Apple Bloom raced through my mind.
“She’s gone now… Rarity’s waiting…” I assured myself quietly.
The meat locker was fresh with entries. Several new ponies, still steaming and dripping with un-drained blood were occupying the hooks. I recognized one, much to my horror, as the dear, sweet school teacher, Ms. Cheerlie. She was a spry, happy, pink-coated mare with a passion for children and living. She still had a great deal of skin and fur hanging on her. Whoever did the skinning was untrained… The Crusaders… The sight hardened my resolve. Pinkie was going to die tonight, and I -Sebastian Cornelius Cooper- would be the one to put her down. With a haphazard kick to the door leading in to what I had come to call “The Chamber”, the wood cracked and the door itself flew into the room, just like the door upstairs.
“Sebastian! Doesn’t a butler like you know barging into someone’s private space is rude!?” Pinkie huffed, crossing her hooves over her chest in a very miffed manner. As I drew the revolver, which had been tucked into a holster that had been given to me for my last birthday by my gun-enthusiast of a brother, I looked about for any sign of Rarity. Nothing…
“Alright, Pinkie,” I demanded. “Where is she?” The pink-maned pony cocked her head at me.
“Who?” Cocking the hammer back, I continued.
“Rarity! Where is Rarity!!?” Gummy, Pinkie’s toothless pet alligator, came creeping up next to her, out of some kind of depression or hole in the floor. That had to be where my white-coated mare in distress was laid to wait.
“Oh!” Pinkie confirmed. “She’s in the hole.” Once my hand came to a stop, my sights set between her eyes, Pinkie began to smile.
“Not even gonna give your bestest friend a fighting chance, huh?” she asked.
“No.” My curt reply was accompanied by my first shot. Pinkie was quick enough to evade the round and begin a zig-zag approach on me. Her movements were quick enough to evade my aim until she was within arm’s reach. At that point, the slow motion effect of my eye and adrenaline took hold. With a wild step backward, my finger pulled back once again. The shot met its mark this time. The force snapped her head back, bringing her now limp frame back with her. The poor psycho landed flat on her back, mouth agape in an eternal scream, a hole big enough to stick my thumb through voided the space between her eyes and the floor beneath her pooled with blood and grey matter… It wasn’t enough… Just one wasn’t enough…
“One…” BLAM!
“Two…” BLAM!!
“ Three...” BLAM!!!
“Four…” BLAM!!!! That was the end of Pinkamena Diane Pie. It had to be. Almost nothing remained of her head… Nobody, not even The Professor could survive such a thing…
“Rarity-” My words were cut short by the shouting by the Royal Guards charging down the staircase, armed to the teeth with everything from swords and maces to pistols and assault rifles. Their bewildered expressions told me that they had no clue what had happened. My explanation would wait for now.
“Help me get Miss Rarity out of that hole.” I demanded, crouching down to look deep into the abyss below.
“Sebastian!! Is that you!? Oh, thank Heaven! GET ME OUT OF HERE!!” Rarity’s voice was hoarse, strained and incredibly tired.
“Rarity!” I called down to her. “I’m coming down to get you!!” One of the guards came forward with a repelling harness designed to carry two and a long length of rope. Rarity was half-starved and her horn was missing. The wound was infected… Still, she launched herself into my arms sobbing like a newborn foal upon laying eyes on me.
I held her close to me for several moments before slipping the harness onto her frail frame. I gave a quick tug of the rope which was met with a slow accent up into the caring arms of the white-coated stallions. Once out of the harness and back on Mother Earth, they took down my statement. After what felt like a short eternity, the hoard went still. My gaze drifted up to see what it was about only to have my jaw hit the floor.
“Princess Celestia.” I stated in awe. Her eyes were set upon me in a way that both entranced and intimidated me. Her multicolored mane flowed beautifully behind her in her resolute stride. What was she going to do? Was I in bigger trouble than I thought? Was something- The white-coated princess suddenly embraced me. My whole body tensed up so tight, I felt as though the muscles were separating themselves from the bones. She stood there for several moments, but finally drew back. The blush that broke over my face was so fierce, it could be seen even though my fur could usually conceal it.
“The people of Equestria owe you a great debt. Is there anything at all we can do to repay you?” the princess asked genuinely. After a few moments of thought, I looked to the frail, weak, half starved pony that was Rarity.
“Rarity… Sweetie Belle-”
“I know. I know what you had to do.” She cut me off, her eyes a tad hollow from her recent experience and knowledge that her sister was more than happy to allow her to be made into a dress.
“I’m sorry…” I uttered the words almost breathlessly. Twice had I mangled a family… First of Apple Jack… Now of Rarity… I turned back to the princess, looking her directly in the eye with new resolve.
“Three things. First… Keep Rarity’s eyes shielded from what’s upstairs… Second… Don’t tell Apple Jack that her sister was alive. Third… Give me a lighter and don’t interfere…” The gorgeous pegasus-unicorn pony nodded and gestured to the guards. They all filed out with her, one stopping to hand me the lighter I’d requested. The design on the side of the Zippo he handed me was a blood-spattered biohazard on a yellow background. Fitting…
“What are you gonna do?” he asked.
“Burn it.” It wasn’t long before I had the entire basement engulfed in an inferno that started with Pinkie’s corpse and spread to the dry hides on the walls. The wooden ceiling would be next… My pace going up the stairs however was nonchalant. Careless, even. As I re-entered the bakery above, all was as I left it. The blood stains, the broken filly… All was well. The tongues of the flames below had already caught the drapes above, and the smoke was already rising. I had only gotten thirty meters from the place when the first wall collapsed. In a snap decision, I turned about to watch what I had done. The flames reached high into the night sky, lighting the clouds above. Tiny embers, the souls of those who’d lost their lives within, rose up into the endless night sky beyond the stars into the Pearly Gates.
“May you rest well.” I mumbled to them as they disappeared. My gaze lingered upon the blazing structure for several more minutes, but a shroud within the inferno caught my eye. It was small… Head at a strange angle… Scootaloo… Her mouth gaped at me and an ear-splitting, earth-shattering, dimension-rifting scream erupted from the burning figure. As a last ditch effort, a final, desperate attempt to kill me the poor filly bolted toward me, waving her arms. She was fast, even though her muscles were disintegrating right off of her. I didn’t even move, though. Not even a flinch. My face stayed perfectly blank, almost pitiful. As I expected, she flopped over only five meters from me. She curled up and shriveled beneath the flames that were working their way through her body like a dead insect. I felt sorry for the little one… Never got a chance to live…
“Requiem in pace…” I offered truthfully, giving the sign of the cross. As I turned away from the blazing structure, I began singing a low tune.
“Attend the tale of Pinkie Pie….Her mane was pink, her movement spry…….”
