It was getting dark out, making it slightly difficult to make out the winding path up the mountain trail to Mount Sunshine, a facility built to house the mentally insane. A self-employed investigative journalist by the name of Written Gospel marched towards the front gates of the asylum, her mane being tossed about in the wind. The moon was hidden behind dark clouds.

The unicorn mare, Written Gospel, used her magic to float a camera in front of her, the night vision on as she spoke to it,

"This is Written Gospel. Self-employed investigative journalist. Unlike your ordinary journalist, I risk my life by digging deeper into the secrets that no other journalist would ever dare do. A few days ago, I was tipped off about the illegal activity happening at Mount Sunshine by an unknown pony.

Mount Sunshine was originally built in 1905 and was the home of a wealthy family. After a small epidemic of Small Pox had wiped out most of the family and the other members moved, it was purchased by the Sunnyday Psychiatric Corporation to be used as an asylum and has been in their unlawful hooves since then.

I've heard about them before. They disguise themselves as charity to make a profit, but that was always on foreign soil. Now've they come to Equestria hoping to do the same song and dance all over again. I'm determined to uncover all their dirty little secrets and expose them for the dirty little pigs they really are. No offense to all the pigs who are watching this later."

Written Gospel put her camera in her bag as she pushed open the cast-iron gate and stepped onto the cobblestone path. The security booths on either side of the large walls surrounding the entrance were empty. Between them were turnstiles. Written Gospel approached one.

The metal turnstile was cool to the touch, chilled by the autumn winds. Stepping through it brought her closer to uncovering the secrets Sunnyday kept tucked away inside. She paused and took off her backpack. Inside were a few batteries, a camera with night vision, a cell phone, a notebook, pencil, pencil sharpener, eraser, and a folder to hold incriminating documents.

Inside the folder was one document already. Written Gospel took it out. She had read it five times already on her way up the mountain but feel the need to read it once more.

"November 8th, 2018

From: 294793784652@Snailmail.net

To: writtengospel22@Hoofmail.net

Subject: TIP/Illegal Activity @ Sunnyday Psychiatric Corporation

Hi, there. You don't know me, but I know you. You're the journalist who investigated that murder up in Vanhoover. I have to make this quick, though, so let's get right to the point.

I've done 10 weeks of software consult here at Sunnyday Psychiatric Corporation's facility, Mount Sunshine. There are all sorts of NDA's. I don't know even if half the ponies working here are sane themselves. At this point, I really want to go home to my wife and kids, but I can't. No matter how hard I would've tried, it would've been futile. I fucking hate these ponies.

For a place called Mount Sunshine and owned by a business named Sunnyday, the things happening here are anything but sunshine and rainbows. Terrible things are happening, don't really understand it much nor do I believe half of the things I've seen working here. I've always had a passion for helping those in need and taking care of those who can't care for themselves, so I came to Sunnyday looking for a job aiding those taking care of mentally sick ponies here. But this isn't what I wanted, not even close to it. And if I had known about Sunnyday and the awful shit they do, I wouldn't have even considered accepting a job here.

The shit some of the personnel talk about sound like pure insanity. Some are talking about dream therapy going far too deep, finding something that had been apparently waiting for them up here in the mountain. Ponies are being hurt, and much worse, and Sunnyday is making money. I don't know what would be worse, experimenting on ponies for the sake of experimentation, or doing it for profit.

To go into further detail of how I know you --Shit, they're calling for me, I have to wrap this up-- I did a bit of research on you. Oh, and other journalists willing to dig up these kinds of secrets. I sent tips to them too, but you seemed more capable of getting the job done. I'd say feel proud or be honored or some shit like that, but I'm pretty sure, if you accept this tip, I've given you a death sentence, wish, whatever it's called. I'm sorry, but this needs to be exposed, so see what you can do. If either of us ever makes it out alive, I'll be sure to personally thank you, and even pay you, for exposing the corrupted assholes that work here, and everypony they associate with. I don't even get paid properly to stare at a goddamn screen at any rate."

Written Gospel chuckled a bit at the last statement written in the letter. She was looking forward to meeting whoever sent it, presuming they weren't already dead. She pulled out her notebook and pencil and wrote down her thoughts before she went any further:

"I haven't stepped hoof into the building, hell I haven't even made it passed the second gate, but yet I start feeling sick to my stomach just looking at the place. My cell phone reception was cut off about a mile out, more like a fucking jammer than a lost signal. Looks like they don't want folks who wander nearby to people to call for help or report them.

From what I've read, the Sunnyday Corporation has one hell of a track record for disguising profit as charity. But never once was any of it on Equestrian soil. Whatever it was they fucking thought they get out of a place like this HAS to be big. Could finally be the story that breaks the God forsaken bastards."

Another gate blocked Gospel's path, but she knew trying to open it would prove useless, considering a large change intertwined between the bars of the two doors and the large padlock that kept them locked together. However, there happened to be a side gate to the east. Stepping through it allowed Written Gospel access to the front grounds of the asylum. She trotted across the yard until she reached the front doors of the Asylum. Written Gospel tried opening them, but had no such luck, as they were locked, and the power to the door buzzer seemed to be out. Maybe there's a way in around the side of the building somewhere?, she thought to herself.

Written Gospel trotted around the east side of the building, only to find both gates were padlocked, like the previous one she had come across. The walls were too high for her to try to climb, and she hadn't taken the time to learn a teleportation spell. She was regretting that now, as she only knew telekinesis. Sighing, Written Gospel made her way toward the west side of the building, pulling her camera out as she did so.

There was a big enough hole on the bottom of the padlocked gate for Written Gospel to crawl through. It looked like it had been blasted open by some unknown force. Before going through the hole, Gospel looked back and took one good, possibly the last, look at the outside of the asylum and filmed it.

The first entrance to the facility was a large cast-iron gate with an intricate design connected to brick walls about two Celestia's tall and about thirty Celestia's long from the tip of her mane to the tip of her tail. There were even spaces raised in the walls with lamps screwed into the brick foundation. Between the first gate and the second and side gate were the two security booths and turnstiles. The walls continued on either side in a blocky top hat-esque shape and stopped about half way past the wall the doors of the building itself were located. Two gates were located on each side of the wall, one near where the wall itself stopped and the other midway through the long wall.

From what Gospel had seen, the building itself looked like a medieval brick castle with many windows rather than an asylum. The asylum courtyard was circular shaped with many flowers and bushes, even a tree or two, and plus sign shape cut out for the sidewalk with a few lamp posts and benches placed near the center.

That was all there was to see so far, so Written Gospel continued her exploration and dropped to the ground and crawled through the conveniently placed hole in the gate. The west side of the building had a fountain and some benches, as well as a side door. Renovations of sorts must have been going on as there were construction supports and a ladder hugging part of the building on the west side, which stopped next to the side door.

Written Gospel trotted over to the side door, eager to get inside and dig up the secrets Sunnyday probably paid a ludicrous amount of bits to keep hidden. Sadly, she found the door locked. Written Gospel turned and examined the construction supports to find another way. At the top, there happened to be a broken window. Written Gospel made her way to the ladder bolted to the construction supports, her camera out and recording her progress.

With some difficulty, Written Gospel managed to make it up the ladder and continue along the first level of supports. There was a medium sized gap where a wooden plank probably fell or was removed from the already shady construction supports. Gospel took a few steps back, then trotted and leaped over the gap. Upon landing, the wooden planks beneath her groaned and bent inwards, which made Gospel feel uneasy about going further. No ladder was provided to get to the higher level of the construction supports, forcing Written Gospel to lean on her back hooves and attempt to jump up to grab the edges of the higher level and pull herself up. As fit as Written Gospel was, her first attempt did not work out so well for her, as she fell flat on her back, causing her to bang her head hard against the wood below.

With a slight headache, Written Gospel stood up and made a second attempt at getting up to the higher level. Thankfully, this attempt worked and she continued on her way to uncover the secrets that lay inside. Written Gospel explored around on the supports until she reached the broken window. She stepped carefully around the shards of glass as she approached the window, as she had neglected to wear shoes on this trip. Glass jutted out of the window frame in different places and looked eager to pierce and tear Gospel's flesh in a minor bloody mess. She didn't get queasy or squeamish at the thought of or seeing a little bit of blood, or even smelling it, but Written Gospel was glad she wore a brown leather jacket and a white t-shirt beneath that, as well as a pair of decently thick jeans.

Written Gospel carefully climbed in through the window as the lights inside flickered off. Using the night vision her camera was capable of, Written Gospel looked about the room. The room was a mess. Couches, armchairs, and tables were all tangled in the middle of the room. A mess of blood and broken glass stained the floor near the window. A few pieces of furniture were tossed into the corners of the room.

What in Celestia's name happened here?, she wondered, carefully avoiding the obstacles hiding in the dark. Near the door, a potted plant was overturned, it's soil spilling out onto the hardwood floors. The door was cracked opened, allowing a small sliver of light to seep into the room. Written Gospel pulled it open and stepped out into the hallway.

The hallway light still worked properly, so there was no need for night vision. Using her magic, Written Gospel pressed the button to turn it off. She filmed her surroundings as she entered the room across from the one she had entered via the window. The door was broken down, saving Written Gospel the trouble of opening it. The next room appeared to be a leisure room. It had a few bookshelves lining the blue wallpapered wall, and a few potted plants here and there. There were a few couches on top of a plain rug, and table between them, as well as flat screen television which had been mantled onto the wall and was turned off. Gospel walked over to the table and picked up a book that laid on atop it. The book had no title that she could see, just a fancy little design of sorts on the front cover.

The television turned on with a sudden loud screech that caused Written Gospel to jump and let out a small scream. Her ears perked up as she quickly looked around, her gaze finally settling on the television. Muttering a few curse words beneath her breath, Gospel made her way to the door and continued on. Gospel half hoped the camera hadn't still been recording when she had screamed, as re-showing it to whoever would probably be embarrassing. Looking at the timestamp, the camera had still been rolling.

Files were strewn about the hallway floor, but none of them looked like anything important. Somepony clearly wanted to keep somepony out, as the hallway to get to the window leading outside was blocked off, though one could simply just travel through the leisure room and so on to leave. Farther down the hallway was a partially blocked section that had a big enough gap that she could shimmy through.

Her backpack and camera dangled in the crease of her foreleg as she shimmied through the gap. Written Gospel wasn't exactly fond of tight spaces, but nevertheless, she continued on. She had a gut feeling that by the time she exited the asylum, her and tight spaces would become the best of friends. After exiting the gap, she readjusted her bag onto her back and used her telekinesis to hold up her camera.

Further up the hallway, blood stained the floor and the walls. Written Gospel gained an uneasy feeling as she wandered into a nearby office. Written Gospel trotted into the rather small office and looked around. There was nothing noteworthy about the room. It seemed to be just your standard office with standard office equipment. However, upon further examination, Gospel found a spare battery for the taking. Written Gospel walked out of the office and walked down the hallway, the lights above flickering but never going out.

There was another office just down the hall. Upon exploring it, Gospel found nothing interesting other than a potentially incriminating file. Before putting it up, she decided to read it:

"Sunnyday Psychiatric Corporation

Project Black Phantom

Mount Sunshine Co

Case Number: 182

Patient: Apple Grey

Consultation Dated: 2018.21.09

Patient Age: 22

Gender: Male

Observing Physician: Dr. Anastasia Heartgroove

Therapy Status:

My patient seems to believe that he has progressed to self-directed lucid dream state statuses. Morphocodec Engine activity observed at highly unprecedented scales. Gladly continuing stage 3 hormone schedule.

Diagnostics:

Spirometry showed no signs of bronchial accumulation whatsoever.

Once more, hematocrit centrifuge failed to separate erythrocytes. This should be considered highly worrisome to us all, but is more so to me. I don't need another one dying on me. I'll have to talk to Dr. Ravenfield about this as soon as he returns.

MRI revealed an unfortunate arrhythmic REM/NREM cycle. Very disturbed laughter in NREM state.

Interview Notes:

Apple Grey asked again about the status of his aunt's lawsuit against Sunnyday and Mount Sunshine. Unfortunately, you know this means there is an unacceptable breach in security, despite his claims that he gained this knowledge in "the gore dreams of Dr. Sawbones." (Note: The only "Sawbones" in company records were a Mr. Hardy Smiles, an executive from S.R.D. who liked to collect bone samples of patients and had a fondness for watching some of the doctors saw open patients.)

I suggest you question any and all orderlies and security personnel and have video security drastically improved to also include analytical biometrics. I've gotten too deep in your load of bull, and I don't want us getting caught now. It'll ruin my reputation. Celestia knows I wasn't aware of what I signed up for before it was too late. Besides, without a tighter security, and surveillance, I can't know what happens Silver Dusk*.

[*See file on Silver Dusk]

Sunnyday Psychiatric Corporation Project Black Phantom

Mount Sunshine Co."

As juicy as it sounded, it wasn't enough to fully cripple and or end the company, so Written Gospel continued her search. From what she gathered, the Dr. Anastasia mentioned in the document worked closely on the project mentioned in the file. Finding her or her office would prove useful later on, or so Written Gospel assumed.

Written Gospel continued down the hallway. To her left was a bathroom with a unisex sign drilled into the wall. The door was half open, but upon getting closer, it closed suddenly. More than likely, a patient was in there, doing whatever it was he or she wanted. Gospel wasn't much of a fighter, so she left the bathroom alone and continued her quest.

Across from the bathroom was a break room. Upon entering, she looked around. She could see to her left a fridge, a countertop with a sink and a cabinet above it. Behind the sink was a "Please Wash Your Hooves Sign", and beside it to the right was a broken radio. To the left near the edge was a tray with what looked an intestine and an empty soda can. Eugh, somepony was having a pleasant intestine and soda lunch today, Written Gospel thought, feeling a tad queasy. She turned and walked away to find a trashcan beside two soda machines. Beside the second soda machine was a puddle of blood that stopped near a potted plant and the machine itself. Every so often, the blood puddle rippled, like blood was dripping from the ceiling. Gospel looked up and wonder what could be above to cause the ceiling to be somewhat soaked and dripping with blood. Rethinking it, she probably didn't want to know.

There was no other way to go other than the way she came, but in case she had missed something, Written Gospel wandered around a bit. After walking back into the break room, she looked around more closely. Her eyes eventually settled on the ventilation shaft above. She didn't know where the vent would lead her, but it would take her hopefully deeper into the facility. Written Gospel jumped up and grabbed the edge, then pulled herself up into the vent. The inside of the shaft was nearly pitch black. To help her navigate, Written Gospel pulled out her camera, turned on the night vision and wriggled her way through.

Written Gospel dropped down onto her front hooves and flopped over with a small grunt. It wasn't as a much as a graceful landing than she was hoping for, but she was thankful her camera didn't break. Gospel stood and straightened her jacket and backpack, then tucked a few strands of her light blue mane behind her ear.

To her right, she could see the downstairs area through the dirty windows. Looking around, she saw that the hall was blocked off yet again, though there was a door to the left that would hopefully lead around the blockage. Written Gospel walked to the door and pushed it open. A dead body, soaked in blood and other body fluids, swung towards her and then away before falling onto the floor with a thump. Gospel let out a shriek and stumbled away. She trotted to the other side of the wall and leaned against it. Written Gospel held her chest as she collected herself and her thoughts. Once she thought she had fully collected herself, Gospel stepped back into the dark room, using her camera's night vision to see the horrors that awaited further inside.

The room was a mess of guts plastered to the floor and ceiling and hung on tilted and fallen bookshelves. Heads and other body parts were scattered about. A few dead bodies hung from the ceiling like headless pinatas. Some were even missing different appendages. The stench of blood, other bodily fluids and rotting meat flooded Written Gospel's nostrils. She dropped her camera and began heaving the contents of her stomach onto the floor. Gospel recovered a few moments later and picked her camera with her magic, then hurried to the other exit, trying her best not to step on dead bodies or in pools of blood, though it was nearly impossible. Near the door, a stallion dressed in full body armor was stuck to the ceiling like a pinata as well, beneath him a mishmash of guts and other organs, blood and bodily fluids. Written Gospel bolted out of the room before the smell could overwhelm her yet again.

Outside the room, another stallion in full body armor had been pinned to the wall with a pole, another pile of guts and rotting flesh beneath him. Gospel couldn't take much more in the way of smelling their deaths, otherwise, she would puke again, so she walked passed the soldier as fast as she could.

"Wait! Don't go! I have something impo-important to tell you!" A voice wheezed. It sounded like it was in pain, dying even. The voice was rough and scratchy, like sandpaper.

Written Gospel turned and looked at the soldier, who was apparently still alive. The poor stallion wriggled and squirmed, trying his best to get free, although his death was inevitable, whether he got free or not. Gospel didn't speak a word to him as he continued on.

"They..." He paused to catch his breath "they got out and attacked us, the patients."

Gospel looked at the name tag on his chest. His name was Officer Steele.

"Thought me and my..." He trailed off and was still for a moment. Written Gospel started to step away, thinking he had died.

"Buddy escaped." Officer Steele spoke suddenly, making Gospel jump as she walked back to him. Officer Steele paused again.

"He showed up, got us." He spoke again, pushing himself up a bit before slipping right back to where he was.

"Miss, you ca-can't fight them, you have to..." Once again, Officer Steele trailed off and was still. This time, Written Gospel stayed in case he hadn't died yet.

"Hide," Steele spoke, almost if one cue. The dying officer gasped for air as he pushed himself up again.

"Can unlock the main doors from..." Officer Steele cut himself off as he slipped back to his previous position with a shriek of pain.

"Security control." He panted out, grabbing at the pole "you have to get out. Not safe. Ple-" Officer Steele died before he could finish his sentence, pinned to the wall like a foal's pinata at their birthday. Only there was no prize inside other than guts and bodily fluids. Written Gospel stared at him a few minutes.

Feeling sympathetic, and a tad guilty for not attempting to help, no matter how useless it may have been, she closed his eyelids with her hoof and whispered a small prayer under her breath for the dead officer. She took out her notebook and scribbled down her sympathetic feelings towards the soldier and the unknowns that had caused her to puke, then put it up and continued wandering around.

Written Gospel came across another gap between desks and bookshelves down the hall. With her bag and camera hanging in the crease of her foreleg again, Written Gospel wriggled her way into the gap and began shimmying through. Before she could get halfway, something forcefully yanked her back by her ponytail, grabbed ahold of her throat and slammed her into the ground, then against the wall, then against the window. Written Gospel squeezed her eyes shut as she heard the glass behind her cracking. She opened them again to see her attacker; a brute of a stallion. He looked grotesque, bloated and disfigured. A walking nightmare. He was fat and partially caked in blood. Metal clamps forced his mouth open, making the stallion look like he was giving Written Gospel a bloody, rotten grin. His flesh was all veiny and looked like it had been experimented upon. Gospel tried to scream for help, but was unable to do so. There was nopony around to help her anyways. Officer Steele was currently dead and pinned to a wall. He couldn't help her, nor could the other dead soldier. If they couldn't take him down together, there was no helping her.

Written Gospel wriggled in his grasp and gasped for air.

"Die, whore," The brute grumbled as he threw her through the window. The glass shattered, a few shards stuck into Gospel's jacket and pants. She crashed down onto the floor below. The impact winded her, and caused her to began to lose consciousness. Moments later, everything went black. Minutes later, however, she woke up, unable to move. She could move her eyes, however, and looked around. There was a nun-looking mare to her left, humming and holding her camera in her dirt and blood covered hooves. The nun noticed that she was awake, and asked Written Gospel who she was. However, Written Gospel was already slipping back into unconsciousness again and couldn't answer.

When Gospel awoke again moments later, the nun was still there and seemed to be going over the footage stored in the camera. Noticing Gospel was awake again, the nun said to Gospel:
"Our merciful goddess has sent you to me as an apostle. Guard your life, my dear daughter, your duty is far from over."

Before Written Gospel could speak, she had fell back into unconscious once more.

Author's Note

Some of the names in the story may sound more human-like than pony-like, so I apologize for that. Sometimes I have a hard time for coming up with names for ponies.