Log Entry #1, 2-25-11
"Bonsoir, détective."
[A brief pause]
"Excuse my Prench, I am well out of practice. Is this on?"
[Recorder is shuffled around, then another pause]
"Well I suppose an introduction is in order. My name is Burnham, or at least that's what you will refer to me as. I have started recording these log entries in the event that I am caught, which is unlikely to happen anytime soon. Plus, recording my progress will help keep me organized."
[The clanging of metal tools can be heard nearby]
"Anyways, I am taken aback by the lack of effort displayed by the Manehattan police force. While lack of crime within cities has caused officers to grow rather sluggish, you would think missing pony case files would be of high priority!"
"Now I know what you are thinking, how are they managing to stay anonymous? Well I'd really hate to tease you, but my motives and methods of killing shall be revealed at a later date. Wouldn't want to reveal everything at once would we?"
"Oh who am I kidding, I love to torture you, in both a literal and figurative sense! I'll leave you with this though; I have 18 kills to my name as of now, soon to be 19."
[The sound of a mare groaning in pain can be heard in the background, then the recording ends]
Letter to Detective Cold Trace, 3-2-11
Good afternoon Detective Cold Trace. Just like you had suspected, another missing pony report came in and sure enough, it was within the 2 week mark again.
The victim was known as Apricot Dasher, a young mare at the age of 24. She was a street vendor that sold apricots imported from elsewhere and was most likely captured at night while she was asleep.
This report was filed on the 28th of February after her mother came to visit her and she wasn't there. While we assured the mother of Apricot that we would do our best to find her daughter, I am not so hopeful about the situation.
Once again, there were no eye witnesses at the scene of the crime and no signs of altercations between Apricot Dasher and the pony in question. Sorry, but that's all I have for you. I hope that I have some more interesting news for you tomorrow.
Sincerely,
Law Bluecoat, Chief of Manehattan Police.
[T]
Detective Cold Trace unlocked the door to his apartment and slammed it behind him, another day with no results. He wasn't in a good mood, and his environment wasn't helping. His apartment was borderline shanty to say the least. The crime rate in Equestria was so low that there was little need for detectives, which tanked his pay-grade in response.
Oh, but if he could manage to catch this foalnapper, he would be financially set for a long time. Trace sighed heavily as he bent down and snagged the envelope that was in the hallway. He hung his fedora and jacket on the coat rack near the door and leaned back in his office chair, slightly nodding off.
With one swift motion, he swiped the envelope across the top with his teeth and pulled out the letter inside. Quickly scanning through it, he rolled his eyes in realization that it was the same news as last time. This had been going on for weeks now. Bluecoat would send him letters going in detail about the latest foalnapping, however, there was never any evidence for them to go on.
He sighed once more as he laid across his bed. He would have looked through all of the missing pony records again, however, he was tired beyond belief and simply didn't have enough motivation tonight. And with that, Trace was asleep.
[K]
Burnham was staring intently at his knife as he sharpened it. He was excited about his latest victim, though his expression remained mutual, probably in an attempt to scare her, it seemed like it worked quite well.
Apricot Dasher was buckled down in and uncomfortable chair, the bindings that held her in place burned her skin as she tugged on them, crying out for help while doing so.
"Oh Celestia, somepony please help me!" she screamed.
A sinister voice replied to her cry, "Sorry dear, the walls are sound-proof down here. Shouting like that is only going to tear away at your vocal chords, which is my job."
That comment made the situation even more dire for Apricot as her screaming was reduced to shear desperation, "Please, please let me go" she pleaded, whimpering as she struggled at the binds once more.
Burnham lifted her chin up and looked into her brown eyes, smiling like a Cheshire cat, "Sweetheart, we both know that won't happen." She started to hyperventilate, she knew deep down that she wasn't escaping alive.
"Let's ease the tension shall we? My name is Burnham, what about you?"
She looked back at him fearfully, "Are you going to rape me?"
He scoffed at this, "Oh please, what type of stallion do you think I am?"
"Not a stallion at all, a monster" she replied, her voice still shaky.
He glared at her, then pulled a set of pliers out of his toolbox, "What did you call me?"
She gulped, "A psychopath, a monster!"
He quickly pulled open her mouth and ripped out one of her teeth, crushing it in between his pliers in the process. She shrieked in response as a burning sensation spread through the roof of her mouth. He smiled as he looked at the broken shards of a tooth that were now on the floor, "Whoops, looks like I ripped out a canine!"
"Goh tu Tartarus" she mumbled as her mouth filled with blood. He placed the bloody pliers back on the workshop table as he inspected her muzzle, which now had a mix of blood and tears on it.
"What was that? Can you repeat that? It sounded like you had something in your mouth" he said mockingly.
In that instant , she spat blood across his face, "I said go to bucking hell!"
To her horror, he licked some of the blood off his face. He immediately grabbed a pocket knife from a drawer in front of her and stabbed her in the collarbone. She screeched in pain as he twisted the knife around, ripping it out violently. She immediately started panting from the extreme pain she was experiencing.
"Why do you insist on insulting me, when you know it will only bring you pain?" Burnham asked curiously, clearly frustrated with her.
She stopped panting for a moment and looked up at him, "My mother told me to fight until the very end, so you bet your flank that I will fight tooth and nail to stay alive" she said in a threatening tone.
He cackled in response, which made her blood run cold, "Well, I guess I'll have to try harder then won't I?". He walked over to the lab table to the right of her and pulled out a bottle of clear liquid, the label read "Concentrated Citric Acid".
She immediately began struggling again, he grinned as she resisted him, "I wouldn't worry, it isn't strong enough to melt flesh, I have another concoction for that."
She wailed in agony as he poured the contents of the vial down her open stab wound. She was choking now, a mix a saliva and blood clogged up her throat as she struggled to scream. Slap! He had struck her.
"For Celestia's sake! Take the pain!" Burnham said in exasperation. Her head hung low, she could tell he was grabbing something but at this point she hadn't cared to look, she had failed her mother, she wanted to die.
He pulled her chin back up, forcing her to look up at him once more. To her horror, he was wielding a blow torch. He didn't even hesitate, he jammed the blow torch inside her open wound and pulled the trigger.
She screeched once more as she felt her flesh melt and her bone char near her collarbone. "I suppose you want to die now?" Burnham asked, his tone reminded her of her mother when she would get in trouble, the sound of pure disappointment.
She weakly nodded as she bawled and shook. "Give me a second" Burnham said as he walked over to the cabinets that held the knives. For a few seconds she was relieved, hoping that this nightmare would end. To her confusion, he pulled out a large empty glass bottle.
He walked back towards her and jammed the bottle down her throat, she tried to gag but the glass prevented her from retching. She had no choice but to breath through her nose. In those final moments, Burnham hit the underside of her jaw with a hammer.
She tried to scream but her mouth was filled with shattered glass, blood, bone and saliva. Before she felt herself fade into unconsciousness, Burnham bashed her snout in, cutting off the last sliver of oxygen circulation she had left.
"Goodnight, my sweet."
Letter from Princess Twilight Sparkle to Princess Celestia, 3-1-11
Hello again Princess Celestia! Forgive me for not writing to you in a while, I have been a bit tied up with my studies.
How have you been lately? I know it must not be easy carrying out your duties with all the ponies that have been reported missing recently.
To be quite frank, my primary reason for writing this letter is to explain the strange occurrences involving Manehattan, for some reason me and the other girls keep feeling drawn towards Manehattan, like there is something waiting for us.
I have done my research, as I usually do, and I have found that ponies within Manehattan are starting to distrust one another. Friendships and bonds are beginning to break.
It has come to my attention that it is my duty as the Princess of friendship and magic to repair these severed bonds that are starting to form, the only reason I ask for your opinion is that I am not sure if it is such a wise decision.
I fear that there is something far more dangerous than we have ever encountered before that is lurking within Manehattan, something evil. Can I have your word that it will not be as bad as I make it out to be?
At the very least, I am sorry for troubling you with this information right now. I'm sure you have received plenty of complaints regarding the missing ponies of Manehattan. Anyways, take care!
Your faithful student, Twilight Sparkle.
