Tonight's the night. Dexter in the cute and happy world of MLP. Love that pic but i couldn't find the who made it. I don't take credit for this pic, think of it as free advertising
Thanks to CarmelSwirls for editing my story.Special thanks goes out to Shodscrool. Thanks for introducing me to the fandom man. Without you this story would have never been written. Every one has read cupcakes right? if you haven't read it or go to YouTube and listen to mike the microphone read it's awesome. Description time!!! Those who kill the Innocent do not deserve to live in this world. That's where me and my dark passenger come in. My next target is a monster like I've never scene. She kills her friends and fellow ponies to put in her cupcake mix. How she was not prosecuted for her crime escapes me ,but in some ways i'm happy she's not locked. Now she will meet her end on my table. Your days are numbered Pinkie Pie. Oh yeah the characters are not mine the belong to mlp and the show Dexter. Anyone watching the new season its not a good a the other ones. Dexter not, mlp that's doing fine Anyone who has seen the show should get the pic, again not mine.
The gray stallion awoke to light spilling in through the curtains of his window like streams of pale orange. He felt a slight nudging at his feet. He looked down and saw a small gray colt with a light, brown mane, still in his baby blue pajamas, pushing his father’s hooves back and forth. It was his son, Harrison. He groggily looked at his clock where he saw the green, blocky numbers read 6:45 a.m.
He looked down at his son with a lazy smile, "Why are you up so early, Harrison?”
The three year old quickly looked up and gave silly grin. "Goo’ mornin’ daddy,” he said in that classic, toddler-like tone his father would grow to miss as Harrison grew older.
“Well, good morning to you too, buddy,” the father said in a sweet tone he used only with Harrison; however, it was still not as sweet as a normal person would use when speaking to a small child.
The father took the colt in his arms and gave him a hug, while still embracing his son he slipped off the bed and placed him on his scarred back. He then slowly trotted out of the room while his son gave his tail a few soft tugs.
He then deposited Harrison in his bedroom, which had light blue paint on the walls and the messy unmade bed of the toddler on the far wall. In the middle of the wall was a solid, blue toy-box that contained, well, toys. The tan carpet was stained by an assortment of juices and foods.
“Stay here while daddy gets ready, okay bud?” his father asked kindly, but sternly. “If you do, I’ll make you pancakes,” he called promisingly as he shut the white door.
“Yay pancakes!” was all he heard through the closed door.
He went back down the hall to his room, now looking it over. It was an undecorated room—very plane and soulless, much like him. The orange light coming in through the window lit the room nicely, giving it an inviting glow. He looked at his unmade bed—the green summer blanket was bundled and strewn about. The light, blue walls looked as if they had a green hew to them. The frame of his bed and the side table were part of a rounded, square, oak set. He went to his closet on the wall, to the right of the door. The light, tan doors folded back to give access to his clothes and other personal belongings. He opened the doors and looked over his clothes.
“What do you want to wear today, Dexter Morgan?” he asked himself in a monotone voice.
He saw one of his favorite shirts poking out of the jumble of hung shirts and jackets. It was a long-sleeved, slightly pink, button-up with two chest pockets. The sleeves were rolled a quarter of the way up for comfort. He slipped it on and left the room. He opened the door across from Harrison’s room, the bathroom. It was a small, light-green, tiled room with eggshell walls. There was a half bath, half shower on the far wall with a toilet to the left and a sink with a mirrored cabinet to the right. He examined himself in the mirror. Not only did the shirt cover his scars to avoid questions, but it also fit his lean, built features quite nicely. He grabbed his comb and brushed his short, brown mane to a swoop to the right. This kept it out of his eyes when it got to be longer.
He looked down at the mark on his right flank with his amber eyes. He hated the other term for it.
Cutie mark, that is just stupid there is nothing cute about me.
It was a small, crimson splash that was grouped with a few other, much smaller drops, forming a crescent shape. From the mark there was a short stream of crimson running down to his upper thigh.
It represented spilled blood.
This got many questions from strangers of what it was and why he had it as his mark. He always said his talent was that blood ‘spoke to him’ at his job as a blood spatter analyst for Equestrian Metro Homicide. But that was not the case at all.
He was a serial killer.
He only killed those who deserved it though. He had a code given and taught to him by his father, the person he named his son after, Harry. Never kill an innocent person, leave no evidence, and only kill if you are absolutely sure of their guilt. These are a few of the guidelines in Dexter’s bible—his code.
He called his drive to kill his dark passenger. It was like this force that willed him to kill. With the code his father gave him, he was able to channel his blood lust away from the innocent. Dexter was glad he was given the code because without it, he would probably be in jail and he wouldn't have his son.
He shut the door of the bathroom and did what was implied to do there. After that, he washed his face and went for Harrison’s door. He opened it to see toys tossed around the room and a small colt in the middle of the chaos pushing a train through a building block wall. He was making crashing and train noises.
“Choo,choo!” Harrison proclaim happily.
Dexter gave a small chuckle and chimed out, “Harrison, time for breakfast.”
The small child’s face lit up knowing he would soon get his pancakes. Harrison skipped out the room past his father and came to a stop at his chair. Dexter turned on the light and looked at the room.
The hallway emptied out into an open area that contained a wooden, square table and four matching chairs. At one end was Harrison’s high chair; soon he would no longer need it.
The wall to the right of where Dexter stood was the front door of the apartment, the only door leading to the outside. It had a round window on top to let in light. To the left was the kitchen, it had a wrap around counter-top that had empty spaces for the oven and fridge. The cabinets matched the counter as they were both a light, shiny wood. The top of the counters were a dark grey, shiny stone that Dexter had never taken the time to identify. The counter closest to Dexter stood by itself like a bar. Across from him was his simple living room and study, which contained his computer.
“Okay Harry,” a name which Dexter seldom called him, “ready for pancakes?”
“Yes,” was his answer as his father took him in his strong arms and placed him in his chair.
“Good,” Dexter said as he secured him in the chair.
He slipped behind the counter and turned on the oven. After that he put frying pan he had retrieved from the cabinet above the oven and onto the burning eye. Then, he got out a mixing bowl and quickly got out the ingredients he needed.
He poured milk into the mixture and ask, “Triangles, squares, or circles?”
“Stars!” Harrison called.
“Ah, a challenge,” Dexter murmured in mock intrigue.
As Dexter deftly shaped the batter into the classic star shape, he looked at the clock on the wall. ‘7:25’ is what is read. Until ten, he could spend the morning with his son.
Dexter had finished cooking a little more than half a dozen star-cakes, a name he thought fit them nicely, and was serving two to Harrison, as well as eating a few himself. Then his phone rang; he knew exactly who it was.
He answered, “Morgan.”
It was his department. They told him an address and a crime, “Homicide near Sweet Apple Acres.”
“I’m on my way,” Dexter lied. He couldn't leave Harrison alone. He hung up the phone.
Dexter then started to go through his phone contacts to find the number of Harrison’s sitter. He looked at the clock once again, 8:00 a.m., she wouldn't be happy about getting woken up, but he needed her.
Before Dexter could hit the call button, a knock came at the door. He walked over to the door, looked through the peephole, and smiled.
Dexter opened the door and happily said, “I was just about to call you Ditzy Doo.”
The wild-eyed gray Pegasus with a blonde mane that stood just outside his door smiled, “Really? Guess I beat you to it.”
Dexter closed his phone and slipped in into his chest pocket.
“Come on in,” Dexter held the door open for her, raising his hoof in a way a butler would do for a guest.
“Thank you,” She said rolling her eyes at the way Dexter was standing, still having a smile on her face. “Hey, Harrison, what you doin?”
The silly colt answered by raising his fork with star-cake chunk attached, dripping a little syrup on the table. He then continued to stuff his face.
Dexter walked back in the direction of his room, “Help yourself,” he said pointing to the plate of star shaped sweetness on the counter of the bar.
“Oh, thanks,” Ditzy said while inspecting the strange pancakes.
Dexter entered his room and retrieved his medium size, black overnight bag. It was his workbag and in the many zipper sealed bag were his crime scene tools. He grabbed his laminated badge that read ‘Equestrian metro Homicide’ hanging it around his neck. He also threw the bag over his head and onto his back, threading his front legs through its straps so it fit snugly on his back.
He quickly walked out the room and back into the dining area of the house and asked, “Ditzy, how did you know to be here early?” Dexter asked a doubting it was just a coincidence.
Ditzy looked up from her plate of star-cakes and swallowed.
“Oh, I got up early this morning to bake you guys some muffins,” she chirped giddily pointing to a basket on the table.
Dexter hadn’t notice them when she walked in but that didn't matter. “That’s it? That’s the only reason, muffins?” Dexter asked slightly confused.
“Oh, no. I had the news on while I was baking,” her expression grew dark and sad. “There was a story on there I knew your department would be investigating, so I stopped baking and flew over here before you called.”
“Well, thanks. I’ll be working late tonight for this case, so feel free to steal my bed,” Dexter proposed while taking Harrison’s empty plate before it found its way to the floor. He rinsed it off and left in the sink. Then he started walking for the door.
“Wait!” Ditzy said returning to her usual self. “Try this before you go,” she said trotting up to Dexter and shoving a muffin in his face.
It smelled like baked apples.
“Do I have to? I’m in a hurry here,” Dexter said impatiently glancing at the clock.
“Yes, you have no say in the matter,” She declared with faked seriousness.
“Fine,” Dexter sighed taking a quick bite.
It tasted just like it smelled, only better. The crumbly, apple goodness took control of his whole mouth as he chewed.
Ditzy saw the pleasure in his eyes
“Good, isn't it?” She bragged with pride on her face.
“It’s great. I’ll be taking this with me,” he nodded between chews.
“Thanks,” she said with a grin
Dexter jogged to the door, still holding his muffin, and opened it letting the sun stream in. “Bye Harrison. Bye Ditzy.”
Ditzy was seated again eating her star-cakes and Harrison was trying to get at them with his baby fork.
“Bye daddy,” Harrison grunted while stretching out his arm towards Ditzy’s plate.
Ditzy smile through pancake full cheeks and waved.
Dexter smiled and shut the door.
Its good I found her for Harrison. Now off to work.
Dexter stepped outside from his apartment and shut the door with solid ‘thunk’. From the walkway on the second and last floor, of his Canterlot apartment building, he could see it was going to be a beautiful day in Equestria. As he strode down the walkway towards the stairs he looked down over the onyx guard rails and saw the well-manicured lawn between the two apartment buildings. In the middle of the lawn was his favorite thing about his home—an outdoor pool with a fence around it, and on that fence there was a ‘no kids allowed’ sign he had grown to love. He took Harrison in there of course, but no one seemed to care.
He had reached the stairs of the stone colored square building, and began his descent to the soft, warm grass. Dexter began walking on a stone path that led to the streets of Canterlot. When he reached the street, he looked at the white stone buildings with winding, purple roofs that lined it. The hustle and bustle of the cliff-hanging city was something Dexter had become accustomed to, but that didn’t mean he liked it. As he weaved his way through the winding, pony filled streets, Dexter tried to focus on the sunny, blue sky. There were only a few clouds, but their flowing shapes gave him a feeling of peace as ponies stared at and stole glances of his strange mark.
I come this way almost every day, you’d think they would get used it by now. I need a trench coat
He looked up at the princess’s imposing but beautiful castle.
I wonder if she has to deal with stares like I do
Dexter took a bite of Ditzy’s creation, shutting his eyes from the bliss of the flavor. He then bumped into something, it felt hard and bumpy, causing his muffin to go flying out of his grasp. He openned his eyes quickly, looking at the dirty muffin on the ground and then to what he bumped into. It was a very large and very muscular, white Pegasus. He was much larger than Dexter but his wings were laughably minuscule. Dexter would have laughed if he was stupid, but he wasn’t.
“Sorry, I didn’t see you there. You okay?” Dexter stammered apologetically.
The imposing stranger’s answer was,” Yeeeeaah!” while raising his hoof.
The deep voiced yell kind of hurt Dexter’s ears and it got many confused looks from the surrounding ponies.
“Ooookay, have a good one,” Dexter said sliding by the muscle head and quickly continuing on his way to the train station.
He then looked back and shed an imaginary tear over his lost muffin.
I hope Harrison and Ditzy don’t eat them all
He reached the building he knew to be the train station. It was a light, lavender building with a plum roof. There were many windows, two large ones with rounded tops giving them the appearance that they were doors, stood adjacent to one another. He looked at the clock above them.
‘8:20’ He was making good time.
There was a new addition to the station, a shiny, silver train. It ran on electricity or magic, he wasn’t really sure, instead of coal. It was faster than the old one and more comfortable to boot.
He showed his badge to the ticket taker and said, “Police business.” He did this so he wouldn’t have to pay.
He then boarded the outgoing train to Ponyville. Dexter took an unoccupied seat, scooted toward window, and put his bag down next to him so no one would sit with him. He looked out the window as the train began to move. He didn’t focus on any particular thing so the landscape around him just looked like a huge, green, flowing ocean meeting with the blue sky.
He heard a colt that couldn’t be more than a year old crying.
I’m so glad Harrison doesn’t cry like that anymore
As the crying continued Dexter couldn't help but feel a little sad. He missed the days when Harrison always needed him and wasn't independent in any way.
I miss rocking him to sleep
This thought was the truth and it made him frown slightly. He didn’t turn and look at the source of the crying, it would have been a painful reminder Harrison was growing up, instead, Dexter closed his eyes and tried to doze till the train ride was over.
Dexter felt the train beginning to slow and heard ponies getting up out of their seats. He opened his eyes to see a town of stone buildings, most having thatched roofs. He had arrived at Ponyville. He got out of his seat and put his bag back on.
When Dexter hopped off the train he saw someone was waiting for him. It was a blonde mare with a long, straight, brown mane and tail. She was wearing sunglasses and a jean jacket with a golden lieutenant badge pinned on the chest pocket. She looked mad.
“Dexter, why the fuck are you late?” She growled impatiently.
“The train can only go so fast Debra,” Dexter said calmly to his fowl mouthed sister.
“Also, I couldn’t leave Harrison till his sitter got there,” he claimed matter-of-factly, knowing it was a lie.
He saw the anger leave her eyes, but her annoyance was still there. She coolly ordered, “Follow me,” then they began their way.
They left the train station and started walking through the town of Ponyville. Ponies were going about their business and most had smiles on their faces. He heard somewhere somepony was singing about Celestia knows what.
This place is too damn cheery. I feel more out of place than that muscle head back in Canterlot.
Dexter tried to push the intoxicating happiness of the place out of his mind and focus on following Deb.
After trotting quickly for a few minutes, Dexter could see Apple trees.
As they neared the Apple orchard Dexter asked, “What do we have?” in his monotone way of speaking.
Deb answer, “Body, some sick fuck almost split this mares head in half with a wood axe.”
An ax? That’s too big for my taste, too slow and they make a mess.
They walked in silence the rest of the way. The smell of apples and leaves met Dexter’s nose and reminded him of his lost muffin as the pair walked through the gate of Sweet Apple Acres. They followed a trail through the trees that led to a small tool shed surrounded by Police and yellow crime scene tape. Dexter saw a large crimson Stallion with a light gamboge mane, wearing a yoke, was being question by a police mare. He looked shaken.
Debra noticed where her brother was looking and said, “He’s the one who found the body.”
“Who is he?” Dexter asked now looking his sister in the eye.
“One of the owners, Big McIntosh.”
“How did he find her?” he questioned while showing his badge to a police stallion so he could get to the crime scene.
“He said he was just goin’ for a morning walk inspecting how the apples were coming along. Then he smelled something strange and followed it here,” she answered while going under the police tape.
“You believe him?” he asked, he didn’t look like to a killer to him.
“Believe him? I feel bad for the guy. He looks like he’s about to shit himself,” She said laughing a bit.
Dexter looked over the gruesome scene. The victim was orange with a tan mane; her mark was a maple leaf. He saw why they knew what the murder weapon was. Sticky out of her forehead was the wood axe. Dried blood covered most of the blade and a stream went down the face of the blade’s receiver. She was lying on her side, back against the shed. Her eyes were still open. Dexter put his latex gloves on, knelt down, and shut her vacant eyes.
Dexter looked up at his sister and asked, “Do we have a name?”
“Yeah, her name’s Maple Hoof. Get this, she made maple syrup,” She laughed.
This job changes ponies; they find humor when at murder scenes. They all get used to the sight of death eventually. Dexter stopped being bothered by death a long time ago. Now it comforts him. It was unavoidable and inevitable. When he had a knife in his hoof with a victim on his table, he felt in control.
“No kidding,” Dexter said with slight amusement. “I just had pancakes for breakfast. Kinda’ weird don’t you think?”
Dexter looked around, “Where’s Masuka?”
Masuka was a short, tan, pony Dexter worked with; they shared the crime lab and crime scenes. He wore glasses on his bald head. He was also very perverted and found sex jokes almost anywhere.
“Oh, the little freak called in sick. He has to be sleeping off a hangover. He’s always taking so many pills he can’t actually be sick,” Debra replied with a hint of disgust, she didn’t like him all that much.
Dexter nodded his head. She was probably right, knowing his hypochondriac friend all too well. He probably got drunk and passed out as soon as he got in the door of his home, maybe even before.
Dexter turned back to the unfortunate mare.
“What does the blood tell you?” Deb asked him
Dexter took a deep breath and began to describe the tale the blood showed him.
“This is where the attack began; see how this blood is more decade than the rest?” Dexter said pointing to an almost brown splatter on the ground four or five feet from the body. “The attacker most likely chased her here. See how there are small bruises on her knees? She tripped and that’s what sealed her fate,” Dexter said now getting caught up in the tale of death.
“The attacker first hit her with the blunt end of the ax. This spray was caused by blunt force trauma, not a cut,” he stated. “She tried to get up but was struck again then began crawling toward the shed. She was able to get back to her hooves using the shed’s wall to stand. See the bloody print?” Dexter continued adamantly. “That’s when the fatal blow happened. The killer stood on his hind legs and swung it over his head into hers. She raised her arm in hopes of deflecting the ax but it just broke it instead.” Dexter picked up her arm showing the extra bend. “Death was instant. Her body then slid down the wall where it now lies. The killer must have used all their strength to get it that deep, must be a male,” Dexter said testing how well stuck the ax was
The movement was paired with the sickening sound of coagulated blood tearing free from where the head met the dirt. One of the police Stallion’s gagged and ran off to most likely puke.
“Must be a rookie,” Dexter chuckled
Debra confirmed his hypothesis with a nod, “Poor rookie, hope he doesn’t spit up his breakfast on anything important,” she gave a short chuckle, “Is that it nothing else you can see?” Debra asked, now snapping into lieutenant mode.
“Nope, that’s it. Crazy guy got the girl in the woods. I can’t really help any more here,” Dexter said while standing up and walking over to yellow tape where his sister stood. He then added sarcastically, “Try some magic.”
“Shut the hell up, Dex you know that doesn’t hold up in court unless it’s the princess’s, and she doesn’t have time to help anyway,” Debra said rolling her eye at her brother.
“I’ll get some blood samples and take them back to the lab for testing.” He left her and went to scrape up samples from all the individual blood puddles and splatters.
A stream of crimson crept into his vision. It wasn’t coming from the crime scene. His dark passenger was beginning to thirst for a kill once again.
After I get the blood work done my hunt will begin
He left the crime scene quickly and got back on the train.
His hunt would soon begin and a needed death would follow.
Dexter had arrived back in Canterlot and was quickly trotting to Equestian Metro Homicide, his dark passenger willing him to get done with work quickly so he could start his dark process. Dexter lost interest in his surroundings, letting them fade away out of his mind.
It has to start today. I can’t wait anymore.
Dexter slowed down knowing he was getting close to his place of employment. It came into view as he rounded the corner. It was a squared concrete office building with windows spread out evenly. The building did not fit in with the beautiful, arabesque buildings around it.
It looks so out of place. They could at least paint it something other than white.
It was a good thing it didn't fit in. It was a reminder that not everything was perfect and friendly; there were criminals in the world.
”I guess it doesn't have to look nice because its serves a much needed purpose,” Dexter concluded as he walked up the steps to a pair of glass doors that read ‘Equestrian Metro Homicide’.
He opened the door, the building’s inside was just as boring as its exterior. The dirty, white tiles and the white walls made the florescent light reflect harshly off their surfaces.
Dexter began to walk towards the silver elevators on the walls to right of him. He slowed and flashed his badge to the receptionist at the front desk and got on the closest elevator. He pushed the button for his floor.
The elevator came to a stop and its doors open to an office full of cops and other law enforcement officers busy at their desks, some drinking coffee, some eating stereotypical dounuts.
Dexter was about to make his way toward his lab when, a slightly tubby, brown stallion, with a black mane and goatee, wearing a tan fedora, walked up to Dexter and kindly asked, “No donuts today Dexter?”
“Nope, sorry Batista. Deb got me working on a case before I could go by the shop,” Dexter said with a smile. Batista was his Sergeant, but they were also friends.
“Your work is getting in the way of my bear claw, make sure you get one tomorrow okay.” He had a broad smile on his face.
“Sure thing Sergeant.” Dexter left the sergeant with a grin and wave, walking towards the blood lab.
The blood lab was set aside from the rest of the work place. It was separated by a large desk and a medicine cabinet. Masuka’s meds were contained within, with other odds and ends mixed in aswell. Enlarged pictures of blood splatters from other crime scenes filled up the free space on the walls. There were papers and science equipment scattered around on the desks and inside the cabinets.
Dexter had a closed off personal office with glass windows wrapping around the outside walls. His equipment and his computer were contained within. Across from the entrance was a door that led to the splatter room, where Dexter tried to recreate blood spatter with Pony analogs and large rolls of paper that could be rolled down to cover the walls.
Dexter entered his snug work place and shut the shades on the widows. Privacy was something he had always enjoyed. He dropped his bag on the floor and retrieved the blood samples. He then started preparing them and began processing some in specialized machines, others he just placed in a slot on his door for later. He would need Masuka to look at those over for a second opinion.
He then logged on to his computer and got on the criminal database. He then typed in a name enjoying it as the name slowly crept onto the screen.
“Pinkamena Diane Pie,” he said with the evil satisfaction of his dark passenger.
He hit enter. Her record came up with the happiest mug shots Dexter had ever seen. She a broad grin and cheery eyes. She was Pink with a slightly darker shade on her mane. Her cutie mark was some party balloons. He didn't really care what they represented.
He read her crimes silently in his mind, “Pinkieamena Diane Pie a.k.a. Pinkie Pie accused of the murder and mutilation of her friend, Rainbow Dash, in the basement of Sugar Cube Corner. She stuffed her and used the rest of her to make cupcakes.” Dexter was repulsed by the thought of such mutilation, and she did this to a friend. Dexter cut up his victims after they had met his blade but that was for convenience and portability when he disposed of them. He didn’t particularly enjoy it. He kept reading.
“She escaped prosecution with no jail time from a plea of temporary insanity. Her other friends supported her and said there was no way she would hurt anyone normally; she had to be out of her right mind. She was forced to take one thousand hours of therapy.”
But Dexter knew the truth, “You don’t chop your friends up and turn them into pastries from a temporary loss of sanity. Oh no, you’re still doing this to others, and there were others before you were caught.” Blood was once again streaming through his vision. “You will die on my table. Just like the others before you.” Dexter now had an insane grin on his face.
“So, you work at Sugar Cube Corner, the same place you kill ponies that’s pretty convenient, but there is no listing for your house. I guess my hunt starts at the bakery,” Dexter thought with no emotion, logging off his computer after writing down the address.
Dexter stood and went back to his bag, unzipped one of the small side pockets, and retrieved a small syringe, filled with a clear yellow liquid. It was an animal tranquilizer; he used it to knockout his prey silently.
This may come in handy later
He then placed it in the other chest pocket of shirt.
He got out his phone and checked the time ‘3:15’ plenty of time to start his hunt.
Dexter left his station, now done for the day unless someone else died. Dexter hurried through the streets of Canterlot, for the third time that day, going back to the train station.
“Back to Ponyville,” he sighed.
Dexter was exiting the train in Ponyville when he saw something that could be very useful. It was a clothing store that had a wooden sign that said ‘Jackets Galore’ hanging above the door. It was a small, stone building with a roof made up of hardened, red, clay shingles. Dexter looked at the store with a sly grin.
Looks like I can get that trench coat I wanted.
Pushing the wooden door open, Dexter saw the walls of the shop were lined with coat racks full of an assortment of different jackets. Dexter approached one of the racks and started to rummage through it when he heard the kind voice of an older Unicorn behind him.
“Anything I can help you find?” the black unicorn with a peppered mane asked from behind a wooden counter.
“Yes, actually do you have any trench coats or dusters in here?” Dexter called with faked kindness while walking toward the counter.
“I sure do this way,” he said leaping over the counter, landing gracefully, and then started walking towards the far wall.
Surprisingly spry for an older guy.
Dexter followed him to the last coat rack in the store where he stopped and searched though it for a few moments. He withdrew a light brown duster with chocolate leather patches on the elbows. He looked it over stretching the sleeves out so he could examine their length.
“Try this on,” The graying stallion decided tossing it to Dexter.
Dexter caught is quickly and inspected it. He then tried it on checking if it covered his suspicious marks. It did, it even covered the crimson stream that went down his legs’ upper thighs.
“It’s perfect,” Dexter smiled in amazement. “How did you know exactly everything I wanted? It fits perfectly.”
“It’s a gift,” pointing at his mark it was tailor’s measuring tape. “If I do say so myself. I've never had a customer in here for more than ten minutes,” He said with pride.
“What’s your name?” Dexter asked
“Patch Work, my friends call me Patches.”
“Well Patches, you just got yourself a new customer,” Dexter guaranteed kindly, this time it wasn't fake.
Dexter then paid for his new duster and left with it on. He then looked himself over. This jacket was perfect; he didn't have to worry about the stares of strangers and the questions about his mark anymore, as long as he kept it on anyway. As he walked away from the store his expression darkened getting back on task.
Now to start my stalk.
Dexter then started on his way through the cheery town of Ponyville towards Sugar Cube Corner.
Dexter walked down the streets of Ponyville, sporting his new duster with a smile on his face. The smile wasn’t just for camouflage; he was genuinely happy about how no one was looking at his mark, that was now concealed under the long, flowing tail of his new coat.
This kill’s going to go smoothly I can feel it.
Dexter was now only minutes from the workplace of his target, Sugar Cube Corner. As the building came into view, Dexter almost laughed.
It was an odd shaped building. Its walls were made of white stone with wood planks bracing the stone, just like most of the other buildings in town. That is where the similarities ended. The bakery door and shutters where pink and on the roof were shingles that look like they belonged on a gingerbread house. They looked as though they would feel like cookies. The edges of the roof were lined with something white Dexter couldn’t identify.
That looks like icing.
His attention was then drawn to roof once more. On the roof was a small tower that looked like a two cupcakes with windows stacked on top of each other. The one on top had what looked like three burning candles. The chimney was also quite strange. It was blue and branched out like coral. There was smoke coming out of each of the four spouts on the chimney. Dexter walked up the steps to the door and opened it.
As Dexter opened the door he heard the pleasant chime of an entrance bell. The storefront of Sugar Cube Corner was a very decorated and festive. There were sweets on tables and in the glass counter. The room had blue, wood flooring with a large swirled rug in the middle of the room. Some of the wood moldings on the ceiling were painted white with candy and pastries on them for decoration. Support beams were shaped and colored like candy canes.
“This place looks like you could eat it. I’m a little surprise ponies die here,” Dexter then remembered why he was here. He then quickly looked around for where the basement could be. He then saw two staircases to the left of him, one going up the other going down. “There you are.” He knew that would lead to the basement
Taking in his surroundings only took a few seconds, he then walk to the empty counter and slapped the silver bell laying there for customers to get attention.
Pinkie Pie was in back of the bakery pulling a batch of cookies out of the oven when she heard the bell at the front counter ring.
“Oh, a customer!” she chirped with glee while quickly placing the cookies on the stovetop and closing the oven. She threw off her oven mitts and shot towards the storefront.
Within seconds, Dexter was face to face with his prey. The curly-haired, pink pony shot into the room faster than Dexter thought possible for an earth pony.
I’m definitely going to have to sneak up on her. There’s no way I could catch her with that speed.
“Hi, how may I help yo-…” Her voice trailed off for a second. She then got right in Dexter’s face and looked him over. “I don’t know you, are you new to Ponyville?” she asked with a cheery tone and smile.
Dexter was surprised, “How do you know I’m new to Ponyville?” he asked with skepticism and a very believable country accent.
“I’m friends with everypony in Ponyville. I know everyone and I don’t know you, what’s your name?” She squeaked out so quickly Dexter could barely keep up with what she said, all while shooting around Dexter and prodding him with her hooves.
Her high pitch voice was beginning to annoy Dexter as he was fighting the urge to just snap her neck and leave. “Oaker, my names Oaker stop poking me,” he lied; Dexter never told his prey his real name, well he did on occasion when they were strapped down about to meet his special form of punishment. He did this to protect himself and his family from his victims if he was found out before he killed them.
“Oaker? Like an oak tree? Personally you look more like a pine tree to me,” she babbled while bouncing a little.
“Uh huh,” was all Dexter could get while trying to understand how a killer could act like this. “Well I came here to find out if ya’ll sold dounuts,” he said trying to change the subject off of him. “So, do ya sell ’em?”
“Her act is uncanny no wonder no one thought she could be a killer.” Dexter was curious if he could learn from her to better his camouflage. Then his mind snapped to the Trinity killer. “No I can’t do that ever again,” a pain shot through Dexter’s heart
He had tried to learn from the Trinity killer a.k.a. Arthur Mitchel he was a husband, like Dexter used to be, and he had a family. Dexter’s putting off of Trinity’s death caused the loss of his wife and Harrison’s mother, Rita. Trinity learned Dexter’s true name and found her at their home, cut open her leg and bled her out in a bathtub. After Dexter had killed him and returned home, Dexter found his wife dead and his son in a pool of his mother’s blood. He left this dark state of mind when he heard Pinkie start talking again.
The party pony then snapped out of ‘new friend’ mode and realized she had a customer to attend to. “Dounuts? Yeah we make them, but only in the morning. I could make you some if you wanted me to,” she answered, still a little too cheery for Dexter’s liking.
“Oh, no, that’s alright. I don’t want to trouble you with makin’ a new batch. I’ll just come back tomorrow mornin’,” Dexter told the goofy baker with kindness.
“It wouldn’t be any trouble. I like baking,” she explained, “Why would I work here if I didn’t?”
Not to mention you bake ponies. You must get some level of enjoyment out of it.
“No. I’ll just be back tomorrow,” Dexter looked around, “Do you work here by yourself?”
“Oh, no, well, not usually anyway. The owners are just on vacation in Fillydelphia,” she told him as she started bouncing back to the kitchen.
His dark passenger informed him on its thought. “Perfect she’s here alone. Kill her before the others return.”
He pushed his dark passenger away for a moment and focused back on learning about his prey. “Hey, where you goin?”
“I gotta do some shopping, since you’re not ordering anything, I’ll just get it over with,” Pinkie replied while slipping a pair of saddle bags on her back. She then secured them, “You’ll have to leave though. I gotta lock the bakery up till I get back.”
“How long are ya gonna be gone,” Dexter asked curiously
“Two hours or so. I don’t know, sometimes I get caught up in other things,” She giggled, now that she thought about it she could get some pranks in before returning to the bakery. Business had been slow that day so she would take her time getting back to work.
Perfect, I can get this over with sooner than I thought.
“Okay see ya soon,” Dexter said while going to the door. He opened it and stopped in the doorway. “Hey?”
Pinkie stopped looking over her list of needed ingredients and other things.
“What’s your name miss?” Dexter asked even though he already knew.
“It’s Pinkie Pie,” she responded with a smile.
“Well, see you tomorrow miss Pinkie Pie. You better have those dounuts in the mornin’,” Dexter joked. He then closed the door.
Dexter then walked at a brisk pace away from the place where Pinkie would take her final breaths.
I’ve got to go get my tools and finish the kill room before she gets back.
Dexter sprinted to Ponyville’s train station and wanted to board as quickly as he could. He bumped into a few of ponies on his way there, one particularly gruff and imposing stallion tried roughly to get him apologize for Dexter’s rudeness. Dexter’s apology was quick and fell short of what the stallion wanted. Dexter threw a swift and strong kidney punch and of course the stallion fell down in pain, but Dexter didn't break his quick stride to check if the poor guy was ok he had more important things to attend too.
Dexter was now almost to the train station when he was shoved from behind causing him to jerk forward but nothing else. He turned around quickly with an animalistic fury in his eyes. The stallion he had punched regained his wits and caught up with him.
Dexter looked him over. He was bigger than Dexter but only just a little. He was grey with a black main and tail. He had an olive bandanna, his main fell out of it in a frayed braid that looked like an old rope and was not attractive. He looked mad.
“You think you can just sucker punch me and run off! Who the hell do you think you are?”
“If you don’t leave me alone you’ll find out,” Dexter hissed in his monotone voice. He didn't have time for a fight with this guy. But he didn't have a choice as soon as he finished his sentence the angry stranger lunged at him and tackled him to the ground.
Dexter let the momentum of the tackle work for him, he rolled with his petty foe and kicked him off, monkey flip style. He went flying as Dexter rolled to his hooves. He landed in a heap a few feet away. He started to fumble to his feet, but he never got up, at least not on his own.
Dexter yanked him up off the ground and followed through with an over handed hay-maker to the head. With the same hoof he then delivered another kidney punch to the same kidney and an agonizing grunt fallowed. Before the stallion hit the ground again, Dexter delivered a jaw-jacking elbow to his face knocking him out cold.
The encounter took less than few moments but Dexter knew that guy would feel it in the morning. Dexter began running to train station once again. Dexter knew he wouldn't have to worry about that guy messing with him again. This caused him to laugh.
Poor dude hope I didn't hurt him too bad.
“I have to go home get what I need, get back, and finish the kill room before she gets back,” he explained to himself as he sat on the moving train. “I’ll lose an hour from the train rides. I wish I were a Pegasus; it would make travel a lot faster.
Dexter tried to stay calm as the train ride continued, his worrying wouldn’t make it go any faster, but as the minutes went by he became more and more anxious that his kill would have to wait for another night.
His dark passenger crept into his thoughts and calmed him down with a new thought, “If she’s there when you get back we’ll just try tomorrow.”
After an antagonizing thirty minutes Dexter exited the train and took off into a full gallop, his duster’s tail flapping in the wind like a superhero’s cape, towards his house. However, he was far from a superhero, his rush was caused by his need to end the life of another.
Dexter had made it to his apartment building and was climbing the stairs when it occurred to him, “What am I going to tell Ditzy Doo?”
It wasn’t dark yet she wasn’t going to be asleep. Dexter got out his phone and checked the time as he reached the door of his apartment ‘6:05 p.m.’
“Maybe I’ll get lucky,” he thought optimistically as he opened the door of his apartment.
Harrison was right where he left him in his highchair at the table. He wasn't in his pajamas anymore; instead he was in a white shirt that said “My Dad’s A Killer” in big red letters.
Dexter had gotten that shirt for him; he thought it was quite humorous because of the truth it actually told.
Harrison turned around when he heard his father shut the door he lit up and yelled, “Daddy’s home!”
Ditzy Doo had been busying herself with something cooking on the stove, when she heard Harrison’s yelling, she turned around and saw Dexter patting his son on the head.
“Hey Dexter, you’re home earlier than I thought,” she said a little happy at the possibility she could go home soon; watching Harrison could be exhausting.
“Yeah, sorry but I’m only here to grab some stuff,” Dexter blurted out apologetically as he left his son and walked towards the hallway that led to the other rooms of the house.
Her ears drooped a little, “Oh man, really? I thought I’d be getting home before dark when you came in the door.”
As Dexter quickly entered the hallway, Ditzy saw the tail of his new light brown, duster flapping in the wind of his fast movements.
“Hey!” Ditzy called loudly so Dexter could hear her now that he was out of the room. “Where’d you get that coat?”
Dexter had already gotten to his room and was about to open his closet when he heard her. “I got it at this place called ‘Jackets Galore’ in Ponyville. You ever been?”
“I was only in there a few minutes and the owner found exactly what I wanted. That guy's good at his job,” Dexter shouted out so quickly that Ditzy could tell he was in hurry, so she didn't ask him anymore questions.
“Okay. Maybe I’ll go sometime.”
Dexter’s closet was now open and he pulled out a large, square chest. Its exterior was black leather on the back and front, two metal belts ran down the length of the sides. Dexter opened the heavy lid and pulled all the papers and keepsakes out of the box and placed them on the floor next to him in a neat pile. Dexter then noticed he hadn't shut his door. So he quickly shut and locked it.
I don’t want anyone to walk in on me when I’m doing this.
He went back to the box and reached in. He then pushed it back to reveal a concealed clasp and grabbed under the false bottom of the box. Dexter then lifted it out quietly and placed it on the other side of the chest. He reached back in and pulled out a rolled up bundle of heavy cloth.
Dexter then went over to his now made bed.
“Ditzy made my bed that was nice of her,” he noticed as he unrolled the cloth so he could see what it contained.
The cloth was lined with a set of neatly, vertically placed knives. There were ten knives in all, all of different types. Some were straight and simple, like his fillet knife and his large thick bladed kitchen knife, others were curved and threatening, like his one hunting knife that was supposed to be used to gut animals. At the end of the row of knifes was a razor sharp scalpel; these where his killing tools.
He grabbed a small, black duffle bag from his chest. He unzipped the largest pocket and checked its contents. There was enough plastic wrap to hold down even the strongest of individuals, and that was just what he was going use it for. There was also a large, black, rubber apron, it protected his clothes from spills, a lock picking kit and a small box of latex gloves.
Dexter rolled up his bundle of knives and placed them in the bag with the plastic wrap.
“That’s all I need now to change,” thought Dexter after he put the false bottom and keepsakes back in and closed the chest.
Dexter took off his Pink shirt and traded it for an army green, long-sleeved, cotton shirt. He then put on a pair black cargo pants. He then checked its left leg pocket to see if his black leather gloves were there—they were. He used these gloves so he wouldn't leave a trace when braking in to places and setting up the kill room. Dexter picked up the syringe from his other shirt and put it in his right side pocket. He then picked up his phone, checked the time, and slipped it in to his other side pocket. Lastly, he put his lock picking tools in with his syringe. Dexter then grabbed his duffle bag and made his way to the front door of the apartment.
“Be back as soon as I can,” Dexter announced flatly as he opened the door.
“Okay, bye Dex. Say bye to your dad Harry,” said Ditzy from the stove where she was cooking something, Dexter had no idea what it was he nor did he care as he was now consumed by a haze of blood lust.
Harrison looked a little pouty from the fact his dad was already leaving again, but he whined out, “Bye Daddy.”
Dexter shut the door of his home and set at a brisk pace down the concrete walkway. There was now a steady stream of crimson going through his vision. “Now to rid the world of another monster,” his dark passenger now free and excited.
Pinkie Pie had decided she had had enough fun for the day; she had pranked a few ponies before she started shopping and was making her way back to Sugar Cube Corner with her groceries on her back. It was now dark outside and Ponyville was enveloped in the silver light of a full moon. The golden light of the lamppost mixed with the lunar light and made the town almost seem to sparkle.
“Nice night for a walk,” she thought to herself, thinking she might take the scenic route home. “Oh no, I can’t gotta get this stuff to the fridge before it go’s bad,” remembering her load.
She sped up her walk to a slow, cheery trot.
She then let her thoughts go to another darker place. “I’m almost out of special ingredient for my cupcakes. I need to see who’s next on the list,” she concluded with a smile. “I hope it’s a unicorn I haven’t had unicorn in a while.”
Pinkie was only a few minutes from the bakery and she was in for a surprise once she got there.
“Really? A surprise? For me? That’s awesome narrator guy!”
Hey! No, Pinkie you can’t talk to me!
Just follow the story Pinkie it’s almost over, this is the last chapter with you in it. After that you can go.
Thank you. Sorry about that reader you know how Pinkie is. XP
Dexter was finishing the kill room in the basement of Sugar Cube Corner when he noticed a large, green box in the corner of the blood stained, concrete room.
He had been there before when he worked Pinkie’s murder case and with that fact he was a little curious.
That box wasn't there last time I was here.
The lid was air tight from what he could tell and it was locked. Dexter quickly picked the padlock keeping the box secured and opened the heavy metal lid.
Dexter’s nostrils were then bombarded by the smell of rotting and decayed flesh. The box was full of pony skulls and what looked like dried out intestines. There were a few other things but Dexter slammed the lid shut and gagged at the unexpected smell.
“You kept trophies,” wheezed Dexter, after he had gotten over most of the smell’s effects. “I see why you have the air tight box.” Personally he preferred his blood slides. They were small and they didn't come with a grotesque smell.
Dexter then was struck by a demented idea he couldn't resist. He went back over to the box and opened it this time holding his breath.
After Dexter had gotten what he wanted from the box, he covered the container and the remaining walls and floor with a clear plastic tarp he had gotten at the hardware store before leaving Canterlot and got out his syringe, “Now we wait.”
Pinkie closed the door behind her, walked to the kitchen, and flipped the light switch on but nothing happen. “Guess the light blew out. Oh well.”
Dexter had removed the lights.
Pinkie walked over to the fridge and opened it, letting its cool light shine out into the dark room. She started putting up the groceries when she felt her ears twitching violently backward.
“Pinkie sense, why?” she turned around hastily and felt a thin needle enter her neck. She saw a familiar figure at the other end of the arm holding the syringe. All she could muster to say to say was “Oaker?” weakly before the dark embrace of unconsciousness swept her away.
Pinkie slowly became aware of her surroundings and realized something that was all too familiar. She looked around frantically recognizing the room where she prepared her secret ingredient. It all looked the same other than the thin layer of plastic that covered everything. From what she could see, there were also a number of assorted pony skulls scattered on the floor around her. She tried to move but discovered she was held to the table she was laying on by plastic wrap. She laid her head back in frustration and saw a large picture of her former friend turned stuffed animal, Rainbow Dash. In the picture she looked as confident and strong as she was before the day she came up on her list.
“So you’re awake. About time. I have small colt to get home to so let’s get this over with,” came a monotone voice to her left.
Pinkie’s eyes darted to the source of the sound. There was a grey Stallion in a green shirt, black pants, and a black rubber apron. He was busying himself with something on one of her stainless steel, wheeled serving trays. She tried to say something but her all that came out was muffled and inaudible. Her mouth had been covered with duct tape.
The stallion turned around “Oh that? Yeah, don’t want you screaming till I’m ready.”
This chilled her blood. She then noticed who it was. “Why does Oaker have me tied to a table,” she thought, beginning to fear the worst. When Pinkie saw the scalpel in his hoof as he walked towards her, her eyes widened in shock.
Dexter got on his hind legs and supported himself on the table his victim was strapped to, his eyes glowing with anticipation, her eyes screaming with fear of what he planned to with it. He slowly lowered his sadistic instrument to Pinkie’s skin and cut deep enough for a steady flow of blood.
Pinkie let out a muffled squeaky groan as the scalpel moved through her cheek, but then he stopped.
Dexter quickly left her and went back to the tray. He then returned with a small transfer pipette and a blood slide. He then used it to suck up some of the blood coming from her cheek and transferred it to the small piece of glass. He then put the other side of the slide on top of the glass and pressed. The picture of pleasure was on his face as he watched the small drop spread between the pieces.
Dexter put his trophy in his pocket and roughly ripped the tape off of Pinkie’s mouth.
“Ow! You could’ve warned me before you did that. Oaker why do you have me on this table and what’s with all the weird stuff?”
“Be quite,” Dexter demanded, “Do you know why you are here?”
“No, but I’d like to find out.” Pinkie said sourly.
Dexter rolled his eyes, “You’re here because of her,” pointing up at the picture of Rainbow Dash above her, “and all the other innocents you've killed.”
“What do you mean?” Panic welled up inside her—she had been found out again.
“You cut pony’s up and turn them into cupcakes,” her captor stated in an emotionless voice.
“What that I don’t do that anymore,” she said with slight hysteria and a worried smiled.
“Yes you do,” Dexter said pointing to the plastic covered box in the corner, “some of those skulls are only a mouth or two old, hints the smell of fresh decay in that box. Oh yeah and look I picked out the ones with no flesh left on them and put them around on the floor if you haven’t notice. You can’t deny you’re not still killing.”
“What? No, you’re wrong! I went to therapy! I don’t hurt ponies anymore,” she screamed in disdain.
Dexter slammed his hooves on the table and got in Pinkie Pie’s face, losing himself in the insanity of his dark passenger. “If therapy could fix killers, you wouldn't be here on my table. This is where you killed, so I only found it fitting you die right where you caused so much pain, surrounded by your trophies.” Dexter regained his composure and went over to the tray and lifted his large, thick-bladed kitchen knife. It shined in the light. “Who knows maybe after I’m done I’ll have a taste,” he said this only to torment her.
This statement sent her over the edge and she started sobbing and yelling, “Please help! Anyone please!”
Dexter ran over to her and roughly covered her mouth with his hoof. “Quiet, no one can hear you and they’re not coming to save you. You’re going to die here on my table there is nothing you can do or say to stop it.” He took his hoof off the party pony’s mouth “Have your life end with some dignity,” Dexter raised his knife, clasped in both hooves, over her chest. “This plastic covered room is the last thing you’ll see, well that or this knife sticking out of your chest,” Dexter was now seeing the world from behind a curtain of blood.
“What about you? You’re a monster just like me,” Pinkie screamed out between sobs, trying to delay her end.
“No,” Dexter replied soullessly, lowering his knife to his side, “not like you. What I do serves a purpose.”
“Did I get to him?” she wondered, a tiny glimmer of hope shining in her mind.
“Who are you to decide who lives or dies? You…”
Dexter cut her off, “What are you trying to do? You've seen the real me. I couldn't let you live even if I didn't want to kill you,” The knife twitched in his hoof.
“Wait, we c-could work t-together or something,” Pinkie stammered out. She didn't know how to delay her death any longer until she heard something that surprised her.
“You think so? You’d want to help?”
Her heart leaped as she was going to get out of this. “Yeah! You can kill the bad guys and I could…”
A flash of silver went downward into Pinkie’s chest. She looked to see Dexter’s knife sticking out of her chest.
“Sorry, I've work with ponies before it never ends well,” A smug but evil smile was planted on Dexter’s face.
Pinkie looked up at Dexter, her eyes slowly growing weaker and weaker. “Worst surprise ever,” she then departed with the dark chilling embrace of death.
The weight of the dark passenger left Dexter once he saw the last of Pinkie’s life leave her eyes.
“That’s better. Now to clean up and go home.”
Dexter decided that he would cremate her pieces in the large, stone fireplace. As he cut her up he thought, “I hope this doesn't take too long.” He didn't want Ditzy there all night.
It was around two in the morning when Dexter got home. He slowly opened his door and saw that no one was up. He walked through the dark space to the hallway. He opened the door to Harrison’s room and slowly crept to his bedside. He stood there watching his son sleep peacefully for a while, kissed him lightly on the head, and tiptoed out of the room.
Dexter opened his door and saw that Ditzy was sleeping soundly in his bed. He shut the door quietly. “I won’t wake her. She deserves a good sleep,” Dexter concluded with a smile. “Guess I’ll sleep on the couch.”
Dexter woke up to something poking him on the head. He opened his eyes and saw it was Ditzy and she was smiling. She laughed and chimed out, “Better get up before Harrison eats your breakfast.”