“Special ingredient?” Dash was now breathing
heavily and starting to panic. “What special ingredient?”Pinkie giggled and
responded “You, silly!”
I may have been mistaken about this not having to do with the Slaughterhouse Nine.
Dash’s eyes widened, and her face contorted in fear. Then she started to
laugh and said, in a voice bordering on hysteria, “Woo, you really got me
there, Pinkie Pie. I mean, tricking me into thinking I’m gonna get made into a
cupcake? I gotta tell you, this the best prank yet. You win, you’re the best.”
Oh yeah, the pranking!
…that’s not what’s going on here, though, is it.
Pinkie only giggled even more. “Aw, thanks Dash.
But I haven’t done any pranks today, so I can’t accept your praise.”Dash was struggling again.
“Pinkie, come on, this isn’t funny.”
Yeeeah, Dash, might be time to drop the denial and officially freak out. Your friend appears to be the newest Slaughterhouse Nine member (apparently not all of them are in Brockton Bay at the moment), or at least a psycho of some other variety.
“Then why were you laughing?” Before Dash could answer, Pinkie grabbed
the cloth and whipped it off the cart. On the cart was a tray containing
various sharp medical tools and knives, carefully organized and wickedly sharp,
as well as a large medical bag.
Those looks suitably deadly.
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