CHAPTER 6

Hello again, everypony. Hope you all had a good Valentine's Day. You know you're WAY too into crime, military history and firearms when someone reminds you that it's Valentine's Day, and the first thing you think of is Tommy Guns and Al Capone. Heheh...anyway, I've finally managed to work through the intricacies of building up such a story, and gotten this chapter completed. I hope you enjoy this very psychological installment of volume twelve. If you're a new reader, please go back and read...well, at LEAST volume three, so you'll know what's going on. If you're reading this for the 'Cupcakes' content, you'll really enjoy the third volume of this series. So without further ado, I'll let you enjoy this one. Here's chapter six. Please review.

There is something about a place that has seen great tragedy or unspeakable horror that allows you to feel a degree of oppressiveness. I've felt it before during a few investigations, especially killings. I think over time, a location like a battlefield or the scene of a murder or terrible atrocity sort of develops its own personality, an indescribable something that you can feel in the air. I've heard my sister refer to it as a psychic imprint. If that is what causes a place with a dark past to have a heavy, oppressive feeling, then Sugarcube Corner was the site of a major psychic imprint. Then again, it may have only been my mind. After all, this place didn't just have a history, I had a history with this place to boot. Je ne sais pas.

I stood just inside the doorway of the dark and deserted bakery for several minutes, lantern in mouth. The feeling...the memories...I tried to shake it all off. Here I was, even after all this time, still haunted by what had happened here. Of course I was. That psychopath had almost killed Dashie. Hell, Pinkie had almost killed me too. But I got her. I saved Rainbow Dash, and I killed the murderer so she could never hunt again. I looked around what used to be the shop, with its unused tables and dusty counter. It was over. It had been over for years. So why did it feel like it wasn't?

I took a deep breath and stepped further into the building. Budder had seen somepony or something in here, and I was going to find out what. I scanned the room. There was the counter, with its display shelves. I shuddered. Back then, those shelves would be filled with baked goods...cupcakes and pastries made out of the victims of a crazed pony. I closed my eyes. I never understood that part. Why did she cook her victims into cupcakes, and then feed them to everypony else in the damned town? What the Hell kind of agenda is that, even for a fucking lunatic? Since then, I'd trailed some pretty crazy ponies. Hell, one of my best friends was a section eight teenager with a murderous bent and an urge to kill evildoers. This one had been different. She didn't just kill, she had implicated the whole town in her slayings. She'd carved up her friends and made the rest unwittingly partake in cannibalism. And now she was dead, and there was no way to ever know what made her tick, why she had done what she did. Maybe that's why I felt like I did. Maybe I needed that closure, to know why it had all happened, even if the answer was an utterly insane one.

I slowly walked to the basement door, and felt myself instinctively reach for the handle of the cavalry sabre at my side. There was the chance that some random homeless pony was squatting in the building, but my action was an involuntary one, and I stopped myself there. I felt a little silly for overreacting so much to an empty old house. I pushed open the door and slowly made my way down the flight of stairs, my lantern casting a dancing yellow light onto the narrow walls of the stairwell. I reached the bottom, and stepped into that room.

"Well Drake..." I whispered to myself. "You're back at the scene of the crime..." As I peered into the dimly-lit chamber, it all came back to me. The table was still there, complete with its restraints, and though all of the grizzly décor was long gone, there was still a creepy smiling face painted on the far wall. This would all soon be nothing but a memory. In a couple days, this whole place would be leveled. Maybe that would get it out of my mind. I turned, and walked back up the stairs.

Reaching the main floor, I continued on up the stairs to the second story of Sugarcube Corner. Upstairs was a hallway, and as I walked down the passage, I pushed open each door with my sabre and gave each room a cursory inspection. There was a large bedroom, with only a bedframe and a few boxes remaining. There was a bathroom, from which somepony had stolen the toilet. There was another smaller room with a child-like mural on one wall and a few toys, leading me to believe that it had been used as a nursery or playroom. It was a scary thought that small children were once playing so close to a serial killer.

At the end of the hall, I came to a closed door, which was decorated with stickers of hearts, stars and balloons. Was this it? Was I about to enter the nexus of the killer's daily life? I pushed open the door with the tip of my sabre and glanced around the room. My muscled were tense and my heart was pounding. If I had been on edge before, I was now at the point of expecting the legions of Hell to come barreling toward me. Instead, I was met with the stillness and silence of another empty room. I cautiously stepped inside. The room contained a bed, a dresser, a couple chairs and a small table. Inspecting my surroundings, I soon realized that was standing in Pinkie Pie's old bedroom. There were numerous photographs of the pink pony hanging on the walls, and as I examined them, they begged more questions than they answered in my mind.

Here was a mare who was always close to others. Every single picture was of her hugging a friend or in the middle of throwing a party for somepony. Next to several of the photos were remnants of some of the parties. A card here, a deflated balloon or two there. One item on the wall near the bed caught my eye. It was a photograph mounted in a heart-shaped frame. It depicted Pinkie Pie and Dashie. They had a foreleg around each other, and looked quite happy. The top of the frame read 'Best Friends Forever'. I felt myself cock my head to the side. My mind was starting to turn over all of this. I walked to the dresser, and mentally noted the stack of thank you cards stacked on one side, and the carefully arranged grooming items. A brush, with pink hair still in the bristles, a crystal perfume atomizer, a pink hoof file with red painted hearts on it.

I opened the drawers, but found nothing incriminating or out of sorts. Just the opposite. I found more photographs of Pinkie with her friends, all lovingly tucked into small boxes labeled as 'My best buds' and 'Having fun with the girls'. In the top right drawer, I found something even more strange. There was an addressed and stamped envelope sitting right on top. If I remembered correctly, it was dated about a month before I had arrived in Ponyville to investigate the disappearances. I sat my lantern on the tabletop and pulled out the letter. Written on the front in really nice hoofwriting was the following:

To: Mom, Dad, Limestone, Marble and Maud

From: Pinkie

I tore open the sealed envelope and unfolded the paper. The mystery only deepened as I read:

Dear family:

How are you, everypony? How's the rock farm? Is there going to be a good harvest this year? I miss you all sooooooo much, but don't worry. Everything here is really great. Me and the girls are having all kinds of cool adventures and saving the world and having parties and fun things like that. I get to go to Canterlot every now and then, and it's amazing. I'd love it if you guys could come sometime. They have a rock garden that Maud would just go nuts over.

I may be able to come visit in a few weeks. The Cakes said I could take off for a couple weeks, and I would really like to come home and see you all again. I don't know when it'll be, but I'll find out when it'll be, then I'll tell you, so you know I'm coming! Wouldn't that be super? Maybe I can throw a welcome home party for myself.

Well guys, I gotta go now, but don't worry about your Pinkamena. I'm having a good time in Ponyville. Love and hugs to all of you. I'll write again soon.

Love,

Pinkie

"Huh..." I mused, placing the letter back into the drawer. "That's a damned load and a half of weird..." Yes, I was talking to myself again, but the letter had thrown me off. She was planning of visiting her family a month before my involvement in the case, and seemed to be genuinely looking forward to it. There was no hint at all in the letter of mental instability or dark undertones. The Pinkie Pie who wrote the letter, the one in the photographs, that was a different pony from the one who had screamed about protecting her harvest as I ran her through with my sabre to protect Rainbow Dash.

Turning to the rest of the room, I soon spotted a strange object under one of the chairs. It was a square package, and as I got closer, I saw that it was a gift, wrapped in blue and gold paper, and topped with a rainbow-colored ribbon. A shiver shot down my spine. It had to be a gift for Dashie. I used my sword to carefully drag the present slowly out from under the chair. I stared at it a moment, wondering what it could contain. Flipping the name tag over with the tip of my sabre revealed that it was indeed meant for Rainbow Dash. I finally knelt down and gently began to tear open the wrapping paper. To be honest, I was half-expecting to find a heart or something else as macabre, but once the gift was open, it only revealed a book, with a small card on top.

I picked up the card, which read 'Happy Birthday' on the cover, and opened it. It was obviously an early-bought birthday card and gift for Dashie from Pinkie. The book itself was a Daring do book, and the card expressed Pinkie's hope that dash would just love the book and have the happiest birthday ever. This made things worse in my analytical mind. Why had Pinkie bought Dash a birthday gift if she were planning on killing her friend before she could receive it? None of it made sense, and I shoved the present back under the chair. Maybe I was just overthinking it, not out of the realm of possibility for me. Maybe Pinkie was just batshit crazy, and in her disordered and unbalanced mind, all of this made perfect sense. Insanity is the creation of an alternate reality, after all...

I sighed and gave the room a final inspection. There was nopony in this house. Whatever my sister and Scootaloo had seen was probably something with a rational explanation. Maybe there had been some workers in here, going over the structure in preparation for the building's demise. Maybe it was just a curtain blowing in the breeze. Whatever it was, there was nopony here now. Nor was there any clue here, just more twisted and bizarre facts to compile with all the other unsavory facts of the case. On the bed was a small card, and just before I left the room, I picked it up. The cover read "You're Invited to a Party!' What was it with that pony and parties? There were clowns less festive than she was. I opened the card. It was blank inside, except for a bit of hoofwriting. Whether the card was intentionally unsettling or just an unfinished party invite, what was written did not put me at ease. On the inside of the card was written:

"Because there's always time for ONE MORE PARTY!"

So ends chapter six. What did you all think? This one was dark and deeply psychological, and for the first time in a while, we got to see Drake in this kind of situation without Dash or Budder by his side. Maybe this was a little glimpse of the old Drake from the first three volumes? I can't describe how exciting it was to write this chapter, and I'm looking forward to your reaction. As for the next chapter, maybe tomorrow night, maybe this weekend. Depends on how much inspiration strikes me, and if I rage quit Call of Duty tonight and write. That reminds me, if any of you ever play COD Black Ops (the first one), I'm on just about every week night. My name is Lieutenant Drake, and my Clan Name is LUNA. If you bump into me, send me an invite. I'm not a really good player by any standard, and I admittedly like to camp and snipe, but if there's any experienced players out there that wanna team up with me and keep me from sucking at COD, I'd appreciate it. Well, until the next chapter, thanks for reading, everypony. -Drake