Author's Note: I won't say it twice, this chapter contain graphic torture murder. Not as horrible as 'Cupcake' but still...if you can handle it.
The mood in the pub begins to lighten up, thanks to both Thunder and Pinkie take turn to tell their jokes, one after another.
"…then I said 'Oatmeal, are you crazy!?'" Pinkie finished her joke. Thunder let out a huge laugh to tear and stomping the table.
"Oh Pinkie, you are so random." He tried to complement her between his gasp for breath.
At the other end, both Crimson and Twilight just look at them in confusion: "I don't get it." Crimson whispered to Twilight.
"Don't worry; neither do I. Just go along with it." she whispered in reply.
Crimson then stood up: "Well, nature call, I'll be right back."
Once he leave, Twirelee slide right next to Twilight with almost a grin across her face: "So Twilight, do you have a certain special some pony in your mind?"
Twilight confused about the question she asked: "Um, no. What make you ask that?"
"Oh I've been watching how you keep staring at old Crimson there, just curious about it, that's all."
Twilight feel a bit awkward; the reason she stare at him because he's her suspect. 'But you got to admit, he does have a great posture and my favorite author. He's smart and ki…no, bad Twilight, get that thought out of your head' Now her memory flash back to the point of yesterday when he complement her name, that thought make her blush all over again. A light blush, but still noticeable over her lavender cheek.
"Um, should I really have to be here for this kind of talk?" Thunder asked, "I feel a bit out-of-place here."
"Now Twilight darling, it's okay to tell us. We promise we won't laugh; this is a natural thing for any one of us." Rarity said.
'Thanks a lot, Rarity, now you just make it awkward and weird at the same time.' Twilight thought to herself. "Look girl, he's a great author that I admire, that's it. I just happen to bump into him in Ponyville, and he just there to relax and get his writer-block out."
"Crim? Relax with writer-block?" Thunder chuckled and then asked, "Are you sure you're talking about the same Crimson here?"
"Um, yes. Who else would I talk about?"
"Wow, that's the first. Usually old Crim here go to the mental hospital or wander around like crazy just to get the writer-block out."
"Thunder, that wasn't nice to talk about him like that when he weren't around." Twirelee scolded at him.
"Come on, Twirelee, you know it's the truth," Thunder then turned to Twilight, who looked at him confuse: "Crimson would go crazy over one small writer-block, even do drastic thing to get inspire. One time, he went and set an abandon farmhouse on fire and stay inside, saying he want to know how it felt to be burn alive. We got to him just in time before the whole house crumble down to ashes."
All this thought now started to bring doubt to her judgment. If Crimson, her idol, would do such things because of a writer-block, 'then would he relive his dark fantasy just to get some inspiration?' she asked herself.
"Now look at what you did." Twirelee turned to Twilight, "Don't worry, Twilight, Thunder here just being an air-head. Sure Crimson resolved his writer-block in a very idiotic way, to the point make me wonder about his sanity; but that's what makes his writing so realistic. He used that experience to write about a scene in Shadow of Crimson moon."
Twilight remembered the scene all too well, she read it last week: the mare got trap inside a barn as the killer set it on fire. Crimson let out a horrible and gruesome depiction of how the mare got burn alive. Such poetic and detail, yet he describe it so well, it can make her smell the burning smoke just from his own word, literally. Later that day she realized Spike have an 'accident' in the kitchen while preparing lunch.
"Yeah Twilight, who know, your name might appear in his next book." Thunder added and got a hoof slap him on the back of his head.
"You're so not helping, Thunder." Twirelee scolded him again.
"I…don't follow." Twilight asked.
Twirelee sighed: "Crimson has a tendency to put every mare's name he knew into his story. Those who he was angry about usually ended up…as the victim in the story."
"Don't feel down, though; maybe he'll put your name as his partner or sidekick." Thunder reassured her, though he didn't even seem to try.
"Thunder, just stop helping, because you're not good at it." Twirelee face-hoof herself and shook her head, disappointed about how her friend just make Twilight even more doubtful and worry about the mental state of Crimson.
Though come to think about it; her friends aren't all normal and reasonable either when it come to stress, pressure or even doubt about silly things. This make one wonder if Ponyville have a strange magnetic pull that bring any pony with problem and low mental stability as its own population; not a single day in town can went through without a huge problem cause by something that in the end make a good letter to Princess Celestia.
The night went sort of well, if not for the big information about Crimson to Twilight and the fact that both Applejack and Rainbow Dash still out-cold from the cider, so they have to carried them back to the room. Getting back to Ponyville would be a bit over-done since they already in Cloudsdale, and since her friends are a bit out at the moment, Twilight sighed in disappointment that they can't have a night to plan out what they need to do tomorrow. Rarity insisted on getting her beauty-sleep, Pinkie finally got tire despite all her energy from that day, and Fluttershy volunteered to take care of both Rainbow Dash and Applejack, so only Twilight and Crimson are left in the planning department. Luckily Crimson got the chance to have them stay inside the inn in Cloudsdale overnight, so maybe they should at least get some rest.
Of course, Twilight still stay up late to read over the At the Crimson Tide book, looking for anyway to help her for tomorrow. She skip ahead to the second murder, having already read it few times already, she didn't need to remind herself of the first crime scene. So here she is, lighting the candle in her room and begin to read:
Another night befallen upon Cloudsdale, its citizen gets ready for the tomorrow race event. One mare decided to take a small flying run before going to bed. The night seem so calm and peaceful, she didn't think much about what could happen to her in the dead of night. This decision she made she will soon regret when she felt as if someone was following her. She didn't get even a chance to react when a cloth pull over her mouth, and everything begin to blur out before faded to black.
After what seem like hour, she woke up; her vision still blur from the effect. The only thing she saw is a big room, and she know she isn't in Cloudsdale anymore when she didn't see the room she's in made of white puffy cloud. Her limbs refuse to move as she commands them; at first believe because of the out-cold effect. But when everything slowly came to focus, she realized she can't move because she's strap on a flat surface. The cold metal surface only look worst when she noticed a saw blade right below her hooves, its sharp edge stand right between her two back hooves.
As her mind began a frantic frenzy of panic, she heard hooves-step coming out of the shadow. The figure has on him a big white coat over his body, and his face is concealed with a metal welding mask. The mask just stare at the mare, coldly and emotionless with no sympathy, frighten her with the thought of what this thing would do to her.
"Who are you? Where am I? Why am I strap on this table?" those questions pour out of her mouth; she tried not to sound scare, but her attempt prove useless as her eyes started to shed tear and her hooves shaken violently.
The figure didn't bother to answer any of her questions; he just slowly walked toward the table with a small cart. The mare can see all the surgical instrument on the cart, clean and sharp, and this cause the mare cry out even more.
"What are you going to do to me?!" she cried out.
The figure picked up a shiny hacksaw and begins to approach her right wing. She realize what he was planning to do and frantically flapping her wing like a pigeon trying to get away from a predator. The flapping work for a moment before the figure use his hoof and slam on the wing hard, sending pain up to her brain in matter of second.
"Please, whoever you are, please let me go. I promise I won't tell anyone about this!" She screamed out with all her might with her tear form a lake on the table.
Her desperation cry fall on deft ear when the figure place the saw blade on her wing and begin to move it back and forth. Each passing stroke brought more pain and blood to mix with the tear on her face. She cried out, her eyes almost turn inside out with the horrible pain. The saw begin to approach her bone, and the cracking and crunching noise sickening her stomach. Blood pour out into the table, mix with the tear from earlier and slowly drip on the ground, smearing the feather on the floor.
When the crunching noise stop after the saw pass the bone, the figure stop with the sawing and yank the wing out with such force that blood gushing out onto his white coat. The mare screamed out from the pain and slowly passed out from it; but just when she could pass into her slumber, a stabbing pain woke her up. She looked down and noticed a needle puncture her chest; she felt her heart pumping faster than before, evidently from whatever was in the needle. The figure already on the other side and begin the same process to her left wing. This time, the drug kept her awake for the whole ordeal, even when the pain proven too much for her to handle. She screamed and cried out, tear mix with the blood on her face as she begged the figure to stop.
With one final yank, the left wing coming right off, gushing more blood on the figure and the floor below. She cried with all the tears left on her eyes before she finally spoke: "P-Please, I-I…, I c-can't…"
The figure didn't pay any attention to her pleading or begging. He took out the hammer and some rusty nails from the cart and placed it at the bottom of her hoof. And even before she cried out, he stroked the nail with the hammer into her hoof, tearing the flesh and bone and sends even more excruciating pain to her mind. Her screaming echoes through the room as he continued his torture method with the other hooves.
Now, she lie in her own pool of blood and tear, with four nails on her hooves, both her wing cut off, yet she still can't pass out from the pain. Her tear blur out the vision of the figure, but she can clearly see him walked toward the control panel and turn on the saw blade she saw earlier. Finally having all his fun, the figure slowly pushed the mare deeper into the spinning saw.
"Please, somepony, anypony, help me!" She gathered her strength to scream out for help, begging the figure to stop. But he didn't stop, he didn't flinch, he didn't even pause for consideration; he just keep on pushing her in the saw blade, now make its way toward her body.
With one final sob, she looked at the figure one last time before…
The clopping outside her room snapped her out of the horrible image in her head. Twilight looked over the clock: it is almost two in the morning. 'Who would still be up at this hour?' she thought without irony. She slowly closed the book and quietly make her way toward the door. She peeked through the small opening she made and saw a black pony walked by. With the look at the crimson eyes she knew who it was.
"What is Crimson doing at this time of late?" she pondered to herself. The look on his crimson eyes frighten her even more; the same look he had when he glare at her at the library. The same cold, unfeeling glare that send chill down her neck. The Pegasus slowly make his way down stair, flapping his wings so quiet, a soft snore from down the hall can be heard by a deft pony.
Her own curiosity brought the image from the book back to her mind. Theories form in her head, most of them isn't cheerful and lovely. She decided to follow him; at least it might put her mind to rest about accusing him for being the murderer. Although with second thought, his behavior right now didn't really help.
Downstairs, she saw him make his way toward the door, open it as softly as he could, and close it the same way. Twilight then slowly followed him out the door; but once she got outside she lost sight of him. The dark night sky not only blurred her vision, but also helps blending him in the shadow, thanks to his black beauty impersonation. She looked both side, but couldn't see him anywhere; she even looked up, make sure he isn't up there and surprise her. But all side just has the same black void, if not for the white streets and buildings of Cloudsdale.
Her mind start raced back to the creepy thought from earlier: the thought of Crimson capture some mare, torturing her with his cruel and dark fantasy, and the look of his cold dead eyes frighten her. She really hoped these thoughts aren't true, but from what she learned tonight, she doesn't feel so greatly about her idolize author any longer.