Outiko

by Mr Ignorable

Rating: mature
Tags: Dark, Alternate Universe
Length: 1599

Wendigo

It is the voice on the high wind. The old one. The devourer who starves even as it gorges.

And know this, for if your name is called, then there is no hope for you.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2012-09-04 01:54:02 UTC

The letter

Chapter 1: The hunt begins

Five weeks earlier

Twilight Sparkle

It is my regret to inform you that your seven week vacation must come to a close. I have just received alarming reports from the small fringe town of ponyville. There has been a recent rash of strange murders and suicides. As per usual, you will receive your reward upon the completion of the case.

But be warned.

These reports are alarming for a reason. And I am not a mare to scare so easily. These cases are gruesome. Victims have been discovered with their eyelids peeled off. Their eyes and faces missing. Large holes in their abdomen where their hearts have been removed, and more.

Be wary Miss Sparkle, for what you hunt, I fear, may also hunt you.

Sincerely, The Princess.

~~~~

She found herself reading and re-reading that last time. "Hunt me? How preposterous." She snorted derisively, taking a puff from her Calabash pipe. The smoke filtering up through the windows as it blew backwards due to the train's rushing.

"Oy'd rather not say that miss." Her assistant pipped. "You remember the Surgeon of Birkenau don't you?" She added. Twilight let loose an involuntary shudder as she closed her eyes.

"Ms. Pie, I would kindly suggest you refrain from mentioning that name. Ever again." Pinkie merely rolled her eyes and poured herself some tea. Sprinkling the ground up leaves and twirling it with a spoon before adding copious amounts of tea.

"Ooooh. Earl gray with a hint of Rogut. Very nice. Very very nice." She exaggerated before downing the whole thing in one go.

"Roight then Ms. Clops! You've yet to inform me where we be going." Stated Pinkie, causally throwing the silverware out of the window. Twilight sighed.

"A small village two hours due east from New Mane City if you cross via the Manehattan Bridge." Twilight got up and began pacing. "Funded by the Princess herself, a group of ten families, all with between five to eleven ponies per family, decided to take a small tract of land between the High Sh'ruk Mountains bordering the Everfree forest and the Great Plains, a vast expanse of Prairie land stretching a good seven hundred acres. Needless to say, they were alone. Cut off from civilization, they started a farming community, a small Anglo-saxon esque village. That was back in 1598. Now, it is a moderate sized town with an average of between seven hundred and eight hundred and fifty residents." Twilight stopped her pacing.

"From the very outset, the villagers had been sending telegrams and letters back to their relatives in the civilized world. Some of them were love letters, others were reports from the frontier. And others still" She stopped again to take a long draft from her pipe.

"Were stories." Finished Pinkie. Twilight smiled and took the pipe out, motioning in the pink mare's direction.

"Very good. Now, throughout most of these stories, there is a consistent pattern of fear. Most if not all have been hastily scrawled, and those that were sent were barely legible. Some, if not most, sported some kind of watermark. Be it dried blood, traces of salt from tears, or" she paused once more "one of the more....vial bodily fluids."

"Urine?" Finished Pinkie yet again, this time to Twilight's annoyed sigh.

"Yes. Urine. And most, again, if not all these letters, excreted some sort of effluvia. Eyewitness reports suggest that they smelled something along the lines of rotting corpse." She finished dryly.

"Not only that, witness reports dating back as far as the town's conception suggest some sort of supernatural presence. Something the natives called Outiko. Though, it goes by many names." She took another puff. "I think you might know it as The Wendigo". This time Pinkie laughed. A wholehearted guffaw shaking her body.

"Wendigo? Something as horrible as what you've described and they call it The Wendigo?! HAH! My pet crocodile, Celestia rest his soul, was scarier than that!" She slapped her knees in sheer joy. Twilight snorted and took a seat. "And speaking of 'The Wendigo', I never took the Princess to be a supernaturalist." Twilight let out a single noise of amusement.

"I assure you, she fears the gods as much as the next pony. But she is by no means influenced by the occult. And I fear that the rather gruesome reports have begun to sway her." Twilight paused yet again, a habit Pinkie found quite annoying. "Which is where you come in."

This time, Pinkie's smile was not one of mirth. It was a cold, sardonic smile. Her eyes became small cerulean stones in her head.

"My best guess would be that the murders are being carried out by either a complete loon. Or a cult. And the suicides are being orchestrated by the same individual and or group. Therefore, oh how does the saying go? To solve a crime, one must think like a criminal." Twilight finished and opened her eyes, giving Pinkie an expectant stare.

"Aaaah. So to understand the workings of a loon. You hired one."

"Born on the year of our Queen 1868 under the name of Pinkamena Diane Pie and the surname of 'Pinkie Pie', a young Earthen Foal was birthed by Miranda Pie and fathered by Clyde Pie, you grew up on the rocky outskirts of the budding town of Ponyville. Living with two sisters and farming parents, you lived a secluded life of rock farming. The practice of caring and churning rocks in hopes of growing copper, diamonds, gold, and other precious metals and minerals. And if you ask me, a scientifically impossible one at that." To this, Pinkie snorted derisively, but did not comment. "And living in seclusion drove you a bit....." Twilight struggled for words.

"Mad." Finished Pinkie, her sardonic grin growing into a savage smile. Coughing politely, Twilight continued. A bit unnerved by the unswerving stare that Pinkie now gave her.

".....In 1872, the bodies of Clyde Pie, Miranda Pie, Inkamena and Blinkamena were found in the south fields of your farm. Badly decomposed and left seemingly undisturbed, they were found...sitting....at the dining room table. Almost as if somepony had dragged their bodies into an upright position. Various Necropsies reveal severe damage to the pancreas, liver, and stomach were found on all three bodies. Also noted, was the absence of their Cutie marks, almost as if somepony had sliced them off. The third daughter, one Pinkamena Diane Pie was not found on the grounds at the time of discovery." Twilight paused to return Pinkie's stare.

"Around the year of 1888, various murders began popping up all around New Canterlot. The only common tie between the victims was the fact that they all had severe damage done to their livers, stomachs, and pancreas. Within the rest of their vital organs and tissue, around the initial incisions were found to be infected by Clostridium tetan. Or to put it simply, the bacterium for the Tetanus virus. Leading me, to believe that somepony had cut these poor ponies with a rusty knife."

"Ah, old Sheila and I. What a pair we were. Thick as thieves too!" She interjected happily.

"Forensic evidence found near the crime scenes and on the bodies of the victims concluded that this was done by a pink maned, and or pink coated mare. Around the height of 4'11 with a very slim and springy physique." Twilight stopped to tap her pipe rhythmically against the arm rest, still eyeing her assistant.

"Do you want to know how we caught you Ms. Pie?" She asked snidely.

"Oh I don't know, I take it you'll enlighten me?" She fired back, batting her eyelashes for extra emphasis.

"No. You kept your murder to a centralized area; Whitechapel. That is how we found you."

"Yes yes yes. That's all very well and good. But what does that have to do with me?" Asked the Pink mare, her hair deflating slightly as she too tapped her hoof against the arm rest.

"Eyes and hearts taken out, bodies found in blood drying contraptions in a false door under your Cellar. Decapitated mares with their heads cradled in their cold dead hooves. Newborn foals speared and strung through like Hearth's Warming Day decorations. Stallions found babbling with their manhoods chopped off and horribly infected. Residents claiming to have Kuru Disease, or better yet known as 'The Shakes'. All of them having eaten a pastry or confectionary from the local baker's store. And to top it off, horrific torture devices not seen in Equestria since the Dark Ages?" Twilight paused on that note.

"Why, Pinkie my dear, you were perfect for the job." Twilight smiled loathingly.

"And do remind me Miss Clops, what is the job?" She retorted, agitation barely concealed.

"To capture, or if need be, kill the person, or persons responsible for the gruesome eighteen deaths within the last six weeks. "

To this, Pinkie chuckled cruelly as she stood and took a bow.

"Very well Ms. Clops, The Rusty Ripper of Whitechapel is at your service." She stated formally, taking a very low bow.

Twilight merely turned to the window. "Venatu Incipit. I do not know which is more deadly at the moment. The killer we chase, or the killer aiding me in the hunt."

Pinkie merely chuckled as she stalked off, most likely in search of food. "Whichever one gets to you first my dear. Whichever one is first."