Author's Note

Hello guys, sorry that I haven’t been posting any chapters for a while. I have been busy with school and work which has caused me to slow down my writing. But now that my schedule has been “complete” I have found the time to write and publish. Since it was October, I decided to write a horror story.

Now; be aware, that I usually do not write horror stories as that’s not my area of expertise but I still wanted to try it out so I decided to make a crossover with Outlast. I picked Pinkie Pie since, in my opinion; the one who smiles the most has experienced the most trauma/sorrow and I decided to explore that idea in this story.

Yes, I know that female ‘patients’ and workers were taken away from the Asylum because of the pregnancy illusion from the Morphogenic Engine. Still, there will be an explanation by the end of the story.

Keyword; story. The final chapter.

Anyways, this story won’t be as gory as the game because even I had trouble keeping my stomach from throwing up. So, I will only give a ‘tip of the iceberg description but not the full thing, if you want to see the full thing, then watch a playthrough from YouTube.

Without interrupting further, I will allow you guys to read the first chapter.

Chapter 1

She didn’t know why she was doing it.

She didn’t know why she felt like she had some weird obligation to make her way over to the one place she had been doing everything in her power to avoid. She had to give herself credit; in many ways, she had succeeded in that particular task.

She had erased her entire existence from the government. Her birth certificate, the schools, she went to, the degrees she holds, everything was gone. It had taken her a lot of work to get it done.

The meetings she had to endure and the money she had to pay to make sure she could never be found again were excessive. She had gone to many people and done a lot of questionable work to get by the next morning.

‘Only the strong will survive,’ echoed in her head like a chant in a ritual.

That was the kind of mindset she had in every situation thanks to the place she was returning to. The questionable job she took was a hitman kind of work where she kills people for money. People that had not bothered her in any way, shape or form. Yet, she took such jobs for easy money.

The adrenaline rush was amazing every time she pulled the trigger or pressed the knife close to the throat. It excited her beyond understanding. It was like when a kid was getting more candy than allowed by their parents.

Only… this wasn’t candy. This was a human being’s life that was being taken away by a person who was paid to do it.

She should probably be disgusted by her behaviour, and frown on the things she does for a living. But she isn’t. She genuinely does not understand why people get so angry or sad over losing someone they ‘love’ despite not having been on speaking terms for years.

‘Why do they get so angry?’ she would ask herself when she returns to the scene of the crime. It’s like they suddenly realised how important that person was to them. She couldn't help but laugh at the thought. They get angry at her for killing their loved ones, after they realise how important that person was.

It didn’t make sense to her.

If they didn’t care before, why would they suddenly do so?

All she was doing was earning a living by not-so-legal means, but why is she the villain for it? She never hears complaints when the police or military do it. The police may not intentionally kill, but most of them, not all, at one point have had to do something horrible to protect the city or people depending on the situation.

The military may not kill for money, but they technically are hitmen. The higher-ups send them information about a dangerous person and are tasked to kill that person. Isn’t that what hitmen do? They get information about different people and kill them, then get paid for it.

For those reasons, she didn’t understand why she was considered the villain.

She gripped the steering wheel of her car tightly as she thought over the many things she heard from other people over the years.

The police never found out it was her, in fact, she doubted they even knew where to start looking, but whenever she was in a café or something and heard people talk about her kills, she couldn’t help but feel angry that they spoke of her as if she was the villain creating problems when it was the opposite!

They were the ones giving her problems by acting as if she was the only one doing it. She didn’t hear them complain about other “criminals” committing crimes… like the place she was going to!

She grits her teeth so hard, that it hurt. Her eyes were filled with pure rage that was infecting her mind like a swarm of bees. They had taken so much from her. They’d humiliated her so many times she had lost count.

Humility, though, wasn’t the worst thing they had stolen from her. The worst thing they stole from her was her innocence. She’d do anything to get that back. She knew it was impossible, but it was a nice thought; something that comforted her at night.

She passed a sign that read; Mount Massive Asylum.

She did everything in her power to not drive at maximum speed to destroy as much property as possible. The thought made her happy. Forcing them to pay for repairs for something she did. A light giggle escaped her mouth.

It was a funny thought, one she wouldn’t mind doing. The idea wasn’t bad, but she had a better idea. A much better idea. Something that she knew would hurt the Asylum so bad, that the world would demand something be done.

When she turned her car to the right following the path, she saw the one place she had prayed and hoped she’d never return to. But life likes to play with people.

She slowed down the car until she parked it close to the checkpoint where the security guards would make sure personnel actually were who they claimed to be. But… there was no one there.

Strange…

She parked the car and turned off the engine. Looking to the passenger seat, she saw the camcorder she had bought for this particular mission of hers. Grabbing it and a battery, she opened the camcorder to see if it worked.

This camcorder wasn’t a normal one either; it had night vision. Usually, cameras didn’t have that, they had a plain old recorder that could record what was happening in life. The camcorder had that program in it, so it’s not something she could avoid.

Not that she would complain. From the looks of the Asylum, it was pitch black in some rooms. It probably would save her life tonight.

She got out of the car, camcorder in her hand and recording. Her mind became sharper than a knife, something she hadn’t needed in a long time.

Whenever she did the act, she just did it; she didn’t need a mind sharp as steel or something. She would watch as the one she killed would try to ask for her help, stretching out their hand as if she was God, the one who could heal them.

But she couldn’t. So their last few moments, they would see her stand there weapon in hand.

Never in those moments, did she need a sharp mind.

But… this place, this hellhole… this was the only place where she needed such a line of thinking. Using her free hand, she felt the inner pockets of her jacket and found the large army knife she had brought with her.

She grabbed it and let out a sigh before she made her way toward the fence door and kicked it open, her camcorder recording everything in her path. But she found herself surprised when she saw two military-like vehicles parked weirdly.

Normally, she wouldn’t question someone’s parking skills, but it looked as though whoever drove those vehicles was in a rush.

Stopping dead in her tracks, she glanced at the Asylum and then changed her look to the vehicles and a few questions arose from her. Why would the army or whoever, come in a rush to this place? They didn’t listen to lunatics who demanded to be released after being experimented on, so why would they suddenly come?

Unless…

Did the personnel that work there contact them?

Well, she wouldn’t be surprised if she would be honest. The workers weren’t as strong as the prisoners as she would call them because that is what she was; a prisoner when she sat in that filthy cell, being tortured in many different forms not just physical but also mental.

The longer she stared at the Asylum, the more she wanted to rush inside so she could hurt them the same way they’d hurt her. She grabbed her knife so hard that she hurt her hand. It would feel nice to feel their blood rush down because of her. Changing the colour of the floor to something more fitting…

Turning her head away from the front doors, she made her way to the other side to see if she could get in from there. She doubted that she could just waltz in from the front doors. Especially considering that she was by their rules still a ‘patient’ who needed ‘treatment’ from what? Only God knows.

That, and the fact that she had assaulted one of the workers that had treated her like dirt.

But damn, had it been worth it.

She didn’t smile or giggle as she remembered how she had attacked the worker with a sharp pen and stabbed her in the back of the neck.

Despite the stab wound, the worker, to her knowledge, was alive and well.

So by all means, she was alive but was probably bitter and wanted to find her so she could get payback for whatever it cost to treat her neck.

The pink girl couldn’t stop herself from grinning sadistically. The thought made her want to meet the woman. She would always remember her name.

Twilight Sparkle.

That was the name of the woman who had tortured her in so many horrific ways possible. She had conducted experiments on her when she was researching for the disgusting company that held her prisoner.

Murkoff.

It was a company that had been accused many times before of doing horrific things, but they were quickly silenced by many different means. The normal one? Execution.

Every time she tried to find someone who tried to report the company they all showed that they had “accidental” deaths of different kinds that she knew weren’t accidental. Just by reading how the text was written and checking the photos, it was clear to anyone with half a brain that something was amiss.

So, it wasn’t out of the question for Pinkie to believe that Sparkle could torture her and get away with it. Hell, she could do whatever she wanted as long as she remained loyal to Murkoff. She doubted that she was the only victim of Sparkle.

Pinkie suddenly jerked and looked around and realised that she was still outside of the Asylum. Shaking her head furiously as if to clear it, she made her way to the other side of the building and saw that one of the fence doors had an opening in the lower left.

Crouching down, she moved through it with ease.

She wasn’t skinny, but she was far from fat. She could never eat too much because she didn’t have a big appetite. It was non-existant to her. She only ate what she needed to eat and that was it.

Standing on her two legs, she saw that there were several layers of what she assumed were construction work. There weren’t heavy machines or anything, but she assumed that they were polishing the stones to make sure that the building remained strong.

With a blank look, she made her way towards one of the layers and put the camcorder and knife away and climbed up.

Pulling up her body with ease, she grabbed her knife and looked around her, even checking behind her to see if anyone was watching her. She found it strange how quiet it was. Usually, several security guards walk around at all times.

When she escaped, the guards were all over the damn place, she barely managed to get away because of how many guards there were.

Albeit, the alarms were ringing, so she doesn’t know how many guards there are normally outside.

She shrugged her shoulders. Bringing out her camcorder and knife she made her way upward so she could break inside the building and wanted to see if she could get some top-secret projects that could make the company fall or something big enough to cause serious scandal.

Admittingly, she didn’t know where exactly she could find such papers. But she was certain she would be able to find them somewhere. They definitively had written forms. That she was certain of.

When she had made her way over to climb up, she had seen an open window and was hoping she could jump up to it and get inside. She didn’t know who was stupid enough to open the window, but she guessed it was her lucky night.

Making her way over to where she had seen the open window, she glanced around, trying to see if she could see any guards but found none. It was weird, what was going on?

Her mind was telling her something was extremely wrong but she didn’t stop making her way over to the window. When she saw the window, she jumped up and pulled herself up and stood on her two feet.

When she glanced inside the room, the light in the room exploded, allowing the darkness to take the room under its wings. She would be lying if she said that her heart didn’t beat faster than it should. She turned on night vision so she could see inside the darkness with her camcorder.

“What the fuck?” Pinkie let out when she saw a few bookshelves pushed over with books, broken glass and a pile of blood in the middle of it all.

It surprised her that it was this messy. It wasn’t unusual for her to see blood because the security guard would sometimes beat up the prisoners to let out some pent-up rage, but this was extreme even for them.

Looking around, she realised she wasn’t in the holding prison area…

She was in an… office? An office of sorts…

Why was this kind of violence conducted in an office? That was one thing she knew the guards never did. They only did such things in specific areas, not nice offices. Or, had they gotten a taste for nice offices now?

Slowly, Pinkie made her way towards the door on the other side of the room.

But if the guards beat someone in here, why were there broken glass and overturned bookshelves? It looked as though someone was trying to escape or something akin to it.

Had someone tried to escape?

Pinkie frowned as she thought about it. She knew of a few who would probably try to escape, but to her knowledge, they didn’t have the right ‘equipment’ to be able to do so. Which is funny, not much was required to escape.

All she used was a sharp pen and her two legs to get away.

But then again, she hadn’t seen or heard from them in several years.

Opening the door from her room, she glanced first to the left and saw the narrow hallway. She frowned deeply as she saw that there was blood on the walls.

The blood didn’t bother her, but it made her confused. Why was there blood on the walls? Pinkie slowly made her way down the hallway but stopped in front of a door and kicked it open, her camera and knife ready.

She looked around like a soldier on a mission. But all she saw was a small office. That was it. A desk, chair, computer and some papers. Making her way around the desk she checked the different layers to try and find batteries or something she could use.

Luckily for her, she found a battery so she grabbed it without hesitation and made her way out the door and continued down the hallway.

Through all of this, she had recorded almost every second. While she doubted that Murkoff would fall because of blood on the walls, Pinkie was getting the feeling that something more was going on.

Glancing the walls, she saw that the portraits were turned slightly to one side, with some blood splatter. Up ahead of her, was a restroom she suspected but getting closer, someone closed the door.

Her heart raced when she saw and heard it. Slowly, she made her way to the other room where the door was completely open, revealing a cafeteria of sorts. Pinkie made her way inside and kept glancing back to the door.

Pinkie may not feel the same kind of fear as a normal civilian, but she didn’t know who her enemy was in this situation. She didn’t know the person’s strength so she didn’t know if she could defeat such a foe.

Noticing the door being wide open she walked up to it and slowly closed it and walked over to the counter where there was a sink. She noticed a metal, shining tray that held something…

Pinkie’s face hardened with a dark aura that would terrify armies. On the small tray was a piece of someone's spine.

She looked away and saw that there was a ventilation system and blood on the roof, dripping down to the floor. Any normal person would grimace at the sight, but Pinkie didn’t. She had seen and done things that made her be seen as ‘abnormal’ in every sense of the word.

Instead, she grinned at the thought of any of the guards being the one who bled this.

Looking to the side, she saw there was a way for her to climb up so she made her way over to it. Climbing into the ventilation system she saw how dirty it was. There was filth, cobwebs, and even blood.

Making her way towards the light where there was an opening, she glanced down where she had been and saw that there was a man in the uniform that made her remember the past. He was bald and barefoot. He glanced to the left and right before he ran out and closed the door behind him.

“Tch, I could have taken him on.” Pinkie mumbled to herself, feeling herself becoming bloodthirsty.

While she didn’t want to hurt any of the other prisoners, she couldn’t help but want to feel blood rush out of their bodies because of her. She began smiling sadistically until she realised what it was she was thinking.

“Stop thinking that!” Pinkie ordered herself, getting out of the ventilation system with a huff.

She was in a kind of lobby of sorts with blurry windows. Looking across to the other side, her heart sank when she saw who was on the other side.

A tall man with what looked to be grey skin dragged his feet across the floor with sounds of clanking. He had blood that covered his body as if it was a tattoo that described his battles with whatever was going on inside of the Asylum.

“Chris Walker,” Pinkie let out quietly as if seeing an old friend.

The only thing she knew was that he was a veteran that had two tours to Afghanistan. But just like every soldier once in their life; he suffered from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

“What the hell happened to him?!” Pinkie furiously asked herself and was going to walk over to him, but noticed that books were blocking her way. Bookshelves were turned over as if trying to stop whoever was chasing the person. “Asshole,”

With no other choice, she opened the door.