“Why are ponies such … jerks?”

“I don’t know,” the pegasus answered humbly.

They were in the surprisingly well-lit basement of Sugarcube Corner; surprising, because if it he’d ever stopped to imagine what it would be like to be taken prisoner by a deranged serial killer, he would’ve expected to wake up somewhere dank and cramped. Instead he was somewhere spacious and tidy. Somepony had obviously gone to great pains to keep this room in order.  

He was in some sort of elaborate torture device, the machinations of which he couldn’t even begin to understand. A complicated system of taut leather straps and braces around his chest and limbs held him firmly in place, his legs held splayed wide apart by the manacles around his hooves. Even his wings were fastened. They restraints were so tight that he wondered if they themselves constituted as a viable torture, but the enormous hooks, spikes, and spears aimed at him simultaneously from the machine made him suspect that his captor intended otherwise.

He couldn’t struggle; he could barely move at all. But even if he could, his pride would have had him stay unmoving and resigned despite the immediate danger he was in. After all, he was a member of Princess Celestia’s royal guard and was nothing if not stoic. It was his duty to stay firm at all times, despite the waves of panic that he would never admit were washing over him at the moment.

He was alone with a maniac. All he could do was remain calm and try his very best to reason with her.

The pony sitting in front of him certainly didn’t look like a killer, but appearances could obviously be deceiving. How else could you explain his imprisonment in this machine? Why did she even have something like this if she didn’t fully intend to use it?

And then there was the drain, poised directly beneath him to collect the blood that was sure to flow.

All he could do was play along.

She sat on her haunches before him, eyeing him thoughtfully. Even though she was presumably sitting still, she almost appeared to be bouncing slightly, like she was trembling from the pure energy contained within her being. It was unnerving, but then, so was everything else about her. She seemed so innocent, with such a lovely shade of pink for her coat and mane and such huge, happy blue eyes. Everything about her seemed so childish and naïve, even her cutie mark. A bunch of cheerful balloons.

But although she was smiling at him, her smile seemed off. It didn’t completely reach her eyes.

Like she didn’t fully understand the implications of what she was doing. Like she knew it was bad and she was a bad pony for doing it, but didn’t really know how bad.

She was either utterly insane or an idiot. Either was a very real possibility.

While the pegasus, who was indeed a royal guard in the service of the princess herself, surveyed his captor, Pinkie Pie was thinking only of the cupcake she was eating. She’d made them earlier in the day in celebration of getting a chance to collect more blood, and this was the last of the batch. Gummy sat beside her, graciously allowing her to affectionately stroke his rough scales while he stared ahead with an empty look in his eyes.

When she finished eating, she licked her hooves greedily to get the last few dabs of frosting before wiping them off on the frilly white apron she wore.  It was traditional of her to wear this apron before collecting blood; for some reason, it never got splattered. It seemed lucky.

“Seriously!”Pinkie continued. “It’s really hard to care about anything else that’s going on when I don’t even have the answers to some really important questions, y’know? I need to know! I mean, the world’s full of silly ponies doing silly things and not thinking about how it makes anypony else feel. They don’t even care.”

“That’s a very general statement.” The guard replied evenly, taking great care to avoid looking at any of the enormous spikes that were primed to gorge him any second now. “Not all ponies are the way you describe them to be.”

“Well, I guess so, but you should know that I’m totally cuckoo!” Pinkie laughed. Her giggling was sharp and hysterical, nothing like the infectious laughter that normally touched her voice. Her eyes seemed to grow even wider with her mania. “And would a totally cuckoo, loco in the coco pony even know she was a crackup? Oooh, maybe she just sees things nopony else sees and knows things nopony else knows! The world that everypony else sees is secretly all twisty, topsy-turvy and upside-downy, and she’s the only one who even notices! Isn’t that cool?”

“Yes.” The pegasus said. “Yes it is.” He winced. The strain of speaking with the bands around his chest was painful, as it was difficult to take very deep breaths. “But I don’t suppose that your current reality would allow you to let me go, would it?”

“Hmmm … ” Pinkie tapped her chin with a hoof, pouting adorably in an elaborate pantomime of consideration. “Nope!”

“I see.” He winced again before continuing gruffly. “Well, could you at least loosen these restraints a bit? This hurts quite a lot. Very painful.”

“Oh, nononononono!” Pinkie cried, quickly shaking her head and sending her masses of curls whipping around her face. “If it hurts, it means you’re still alive, since you can still feel! I could never take that away from you like some kinda big ol’ meanie-pants!”

“That’s very nice of you. But could you tell me what it was, exactly, that I did to you? Until I woke up here, I’d never even met you.”

“Um, you didn’t do anything, really. I’m just a Grouchy Pinkie today 'cuz I heard somepony say I was crazy and I hate that. And you are a pony, and I can’t say I like that very much. Ponies are why it’s so hard for me to just smile all the time, y’know?”

She almost shrugged, giving him an apologetic smile as if to say you understand, don’t you?

And then a change fell over her. Her eyes narrowed, and her smile became a smirk.

“You get to be the effigy I burn, infused with all the traits of those detestable little goblins that infect this world.” She spat, grinning. "But you won’t really burn, of course,” she was quick to correct herself. “Torn to shreds is more accurate.”

That final remark was delivered with frightening lucidity, as if she suddenly knew exactly what she was doing.

“But you’re a pony,” he ventured. “Why don’t you kill yourself?”

“Oh, I tried!” she answered immediately in a merry, singsong way. “I’ve tried a lot, actually, but it never really works for some reason. But whatcha gonna do, right?”

“But what if I’m not one of those goblins?” he pressed. He could see from the way her brow furrowed that she was at least considering his words. “You just randomly picked me out of a crowd when you could’ve taken somepony more deserving, like those annoying DJ PON-3 groupies with their incessant shrieking and obsessive fanbrat behavior.”

“Well, I thought of that,” Pinkie said slowly, not seeming to notice how Gummy had latched onto her tail with his toothless jaws. “But I wasn’t in the mood to go look for one. I just wanted to get home and eat cupcakes so that I could finish up before the Cakes came back. But I probably could’ve done better, since you seem very nice. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you. That’s very kind. My name is West, by the way; a soldier in the service of Her Royal Highness Princess Celestia.”

“Yay! It’s sooooo nice to meet you!” Pinkie cried, hopping even closer and beaming. “I love making new friends! If I wasn’t gonna kill you I’d totally throw a party for you! Maybe I can throw a party for you afterwards? Oh well. Anyway, my name’s Pinkamena Diane Pie, but you can call me Pinkie!”

“Pinkie?” he repeated with a small smile. “How … apt.”

Pinkie giggled yet again. “I know, right? It’s such a coinkidink, being a Pinkie that’s pinkie!”

“Well, then!” West cried with finality, struggling to ignore the pain. He could practically taste his freedom. “Does that mean I can go now? Because, and I mean no offense by this, I would like to go.”

“Oh.”

Pinkie almost seemed to deflate, hair going limp and ears flopping down.

“Oh, no, I’m still going to kill you, though you are my bestest, bestest friend in the room right now. But I kind of have to kill you because I don’t have time to find anypony else and I really need more blood.”

“Blood?” West cried in shock. Maybe he should’ve guessed from the drain, but he’d never thought that the killer would actually have an aim as specific as that. “You need my blood?!”

“Well, not yours specifically,” Pinkie amended, eyeing the drain as well. “But yeah, I kind of really need blood right now. Not for myself, though. Blood's icky, so I avoid it if I can. But … there’s the Wall.”

Her eyes took on a faraway look.

“The Wall?”

“The Wall.” Pinkie Pie repeated. “A Wall that nopony else sees. At least, I don’t think so. But it’s there, it’s definitely there. I can’t really tell you where it is, because it’s … it’s hard to describe. But it’s everywhere, all the time.”

She swept a hoof around the room in an all-encompassing gesture, indicating their surroundings.

“The Cakes don’t know about any of these underground rooms, and they don’t know about my hobbies either, 'cuz I usually only get blood down here. I found the rooms by accident one night. They were just there. Hundreds and hundreds of levels of rooms like this, going miles underground and full of machines like the one you’re in. I don’t know where they came from, but I need them, so I use them."

She paused.

“I don’t know why, but the Wall needs blood. And if I don’t keep it painted, it starts to go soft and the Things from the other side start to … push through. These things … I don’t know what they are, exactly, but they’re horrible and disgusting and evil, and they’re always, always watching us, every single thing everypony does! And since I’m the only one that can see it,  I’m the only one that can keep it safe. The only way I can protect our world from the Things on the other side is if I keep the Wall painted.”

When her eyes found his again, they were filled with such incredible despair that West felt a pang in spite of himself. A tiny part of him actually felt sorry for her and the inexpressible sadness behind those blue eyes.

“I ask you, once again, to please reconsider,” he quietly demanded. “You can let me go, and I … ”

“NO!” Pinkie screamed, suddenly doubling over and grabbing her head with her hooves, gritting her teeth and rocking fiercely as though to hold back some tremendous wail of anguish. “NO! NO! NO! STOP IT! JUST SHUT UP! I HAVE NO CHOICE! SAVE YOUR NOISE FOR LATER!”

“I see.”

A silence fell over the two of them Pinkie continued rocking ferociously, and West made his decision.

“You know,” she finally spoke up, voice cracking slightly. It was like she was trying to hold back tears. “You’re not exactly acting like most ponies do when I bring them down here. Usually they get really scared and start screaming and telling me I’m c-crazy.”

“I’d rather not die.” West said firmly, with new resolve. “But I don’t seem to have much say in the matter. But I’m also not like you. I’m not clouded. I have no family, no friends, nothing but my duty to the princess, and I've spent many long years in her service, so I see that I have fulfilled that duty; and I have faith that I will be rewarded for my loyalty in the afterlife. So buck fear.”

He closed his eyes.

“I have nothing to fear.”

Pinkie watched him as West took a deep, steadying breath, preparing himself for what was about to come, and the expression on her face was one of confusion.

She'd never before met a pony who didn’t fear her. Even her friends, the ones she strived so hard to keep safe from what she needed to do to keep the Wall secure, occasionally seemed to be afraid of her. Total strangers avoided her. Those closest to her questioned her sanity.

Never before had she met somepony, let alone somepony she needed the blood of, who remained strong in the face of imminent death.

He was right, Celestia would almost certainly see that he was rewarded for his loyalty upon his death. But what was waiting for her?

“I envy your conviction,” she finally whispered.

And Pinkie Pie bucked the lever that worked the machine. With a small click, it kicked into gear.

There was a sound like a cat going through a paper shredder.

West did not scream, even though a part of Pinkie had hoped he would, retreating instead into silent acceptance even as he was torn apart, ripped to strips by the blades of the device. Whatever it was.

Blood poured like rain, spraying everywhere and coating everything except for her lucky apron, pooling on the floor and running into the drain like it was meant to.

She had her blood. She could paint the Wall. But usually, Pinkie Pie at least got a tiny bit of enjoyment from killing the ponies she took the blood of. She tended to avoid outright killing if she could, and even if she had to, Pinkie tended to kill ponies she didn’t know or didn’t like. As a result, she often actually got a tiny bit of pleasure from the act, using it as a way to vent the frustrations or anger she usually hid deep inside.

But now she just felt numb.

She waited for a moment to see if it would wear off, but it didn't. She just felt empty.

“Well, that did nothing for me.” Pinkie muttered.

She left the room.