A/N: This will probably make a lot more sense if you're familiar with Bellum Civille's story "The Pinkie-Verse," in which everypony is Pinkie Pie. If you haven't read that, then I honestly don't know what to tell you.

"THE GAMES WE PLAY"

ALTERNATE ENDING #7

Guest Submission from Bellum_Civille

Pinkie Pie dashed from rooftop to rooftop, chasing after the mare that had haunted her waking life for the past months. She hopped nimbly from each precipice, timing each jump so as to strike a pose in midair. She had a special talent for jumping- it was a wonder it wasn’t her cutie mark.

When she thought about it, though, all her friends seemed to be able to jump very well. Even Pinkie, who was probably the least fit of the six of them could jump a good ten feet if needed. Or if she felt like it. All depended on the weather.

She looked at the hopping pony in front of her, the same speed and height achieved. She was even doing poses! Was she some sort of imposter? Or, if her theory that this Mare-Do-Well really was one of friends, it could’ve been any of them! Every time she tried narrowing it down, her scope got even wider! She even had suspicions about Pinks, that pegasus who liked baking!

She couldn’t give up now, not after chasing her for so long. She upped the pace, imagining there were some pastries of a pink variety on her prey’s back. She pushed herself harder than she ever had before, forgetting to pose and instead focusing on speed. She was close now, she could feel it- but then her leg kicked back. And her head started shaking.

My Pinkie-Sense! she thought. It’s tingling!

She knew this combo from before- somepony was about to fall off a building and crash into a dumpster! She skidded to halt by the edge of the next building, but Mare-Do-Well jumped for it.

Pinkie watched Mare-Do-Well plummet to the ground, crash landing in the dumpster.

If only I could fly, she thought, but my wings have been messed up ever since that pink criminal lobbed a frying pan at me! And that was her fault! Why do I want to help her?

She must be going crazy. True, some ponies found her crazy already, but everypony was crazy these days. It came with the times. Even Princess Pie sometimes pranked the populace by turning the sun into a giant cookie, or working with her younger sister Pinkamena to lace the guards’ food with hot sauce.

She was getting off track again. Right now, for whatever reason, she had to save Mare-Do-Well. Whoever it was under that mask, dying in a dumpster was not the best way to go. She leapt down to an awning, but she slipped off the side, landing hard against an abandoned hot muffin stand. She rolled off the top, landing in the freezing snow. She rolled for a bit, the cold seeping into her pink fur. Now her hooves and wings hurt, and once again, it was all Mare-Do-Well’s fault.

She finally got to her hooves, steadying herself against the wave of dizziness that assaulted her upon standing. She could see cupcakes in the corners of her eyes, so she closed them for a bit. It was so that she didn’t see Mare-Do-Well fall out of the dumpster, but rather heard her smack against the side of the dumpster and thump into the frozen water below.

Pinkie’s eyes opened. She looked down at the pony beneath her. She looked so fragile, shivering and paralyzed by the pain. Yet the pony made no noise, no crying or grunts. She was as emotionless as the mask that covered her real face. Pinkie was putting a stop to this madness, putting a stop to it before any more ponies got hurt.  She didn’t like to see hurt ponies, even ones that messed with her head.

She stumbled over to the sprawled out figure, leaning against the dumpster for support as she surveyed her defeated opponent. It looked like she had won. Now she could take off that mask, and show this mystery pony what for.

She kneeled down to the prone figure, her mane draped across her face from her impact in the snow. It would be poofed soon enough; it was of no worry to Pinkie. She was only worried of how to approach this, the right way. Should she just rip off the mask? Or was it like tape, and you had to do it slowly?

In the end, Mare-Do-Well made the decision for her. She grabbed the pink pony by the head, while her other hoof raised the bottom of her mask. Pinkie couldn’t see the mouth that was pressed against hers, but it tasted like sugar. Pure, delicious sugar. She didn’t want to pull away, and that disgusted her- for so long, she had rejected this pony’s advances, lived with knowing one of her friends wanted to hold her close and never let go.

But now she didn’t want to let go either.

Their mouths left each other, but Pinkie kept her eyes closed.

“Take your mask off. Please. I can’t take it anymore.”

Silence.

“Ok.”

It was a quiet whisper, but in the cold and soundless confines of the alley it sounded like the toll of a bell, ringing her salvation from this crazy whirlwind of chase scenes and sleepless nights. She could finally, finally figure out who Mare-Do-Well was, and maybe, just maybe, make out one more time.

She had waited long enough. She opened her eyes and looked at the pony below. She met a pink mane, blue eyes, and a hopeful smile.

“Surprised?”

Pinkie’s mouth dropped open, landing on the other pony’s chin. This couldn’t be possible. It shouldn’t.

“But… how could it be you, Pinkie? I saw you outside at that party you threw!”

“I jumped out the window and came around the side. There’s a fire escape by my bedroom.”

Pinkie pondered it. It made sense. But… Pinkie? She had always thought she had a thing for Pinkie, not her. It was shocking, but the more she thought about it, the more it made sense.

She had stopped throwing parties, and avoided her like a baked bad. She hadn’t seen her at the party, and they had barely spoken on the ride in. Pinkie had eyed her, and winked at her that one time at Pinkamena’s birthday, and had tried to eat her mane when she suggested it was actually made of cotton candy. But, any of her friends would’ve done that!

Right?

She didn’t know what to do. She was breathing heavy, laying on top of Pinkie, who was looking more and more worried by the minute.

“Pinkie, if you need to talk-“

“Pinkie? Pinkie? What are you doing out here? And why is Pinkie dressed like Mare-DO-Well? Is this a costume party you guys didn’t invite me to again? But Pinkie isn’t wearing a costume… unless Pinkie is just trying to pretend to be Pinkie and Pinkie is pretending to be Mare-Do-Well! Of course!”

Pinkie looked at Pinkie, and they both looked at Pinkie who stood by the entrance of the alley.

“Let’s just go back to the castle. I could do with a chocolate bath… and some alone time.”

Pinkie nodded in agreement. They stood up, brushed each other off, and set off into the moonlight, Pinkie behind them bouncing around suggesting new and better ideas for costumes if they wanted to have another, ‘Alleyway Costume Party at Night’ party. For the time being, they didn’t know what the future would hold. But with enough chocolate, anything was possible.

End Next Chapter: Alternate Ending: The Shaggy Dog (Guest submission from Dashie222) Estimated time remaining: 3 Hours, 37 Minutes