Fifteen now lay dead in the ground. Ten ponies, four zebras, and a gryphon were now dead by the hands of Kamati di Malsvir. He knew because each and every one of them were now marred into his flesh. As much as Malsvir attempted to beat it out of him, deep down the ashen gray assassin was still revolted by the act of killing. And this was to be his penance for his crimes until he was either free, or caught. Every morning he woke up and counted the number of tally marks etched into his right hoof. Gazing at each one he remembered the faces of his victims individually.
Number Three: pony stallion, deep tanned color, purple mane, blue eyes, bandages as his cutie mark, located in Manehatten. A quick stab to the heart had been his ultimate demise.
Number Seven: zebra stallion, standard zebra stripe pattern, brown eyes, some arcane symbol as his cutie mark, located in Las Pegasus. A poisoned drink at the bar was what put him outside, vomiting in the alley next to the bar. A dagger from behind was what had put him out of his misery.
He always paused on the twelfth scar on his foreleg for an extra moment. He had dug the knife in so deep he’d felt as if he were going to touch bone. Number Twelve: female gryphon, three scars on her back right leg, magenta eyes. He’d had to shatter her wing bones before he’d cut her throat from behind. Gryphons were a rare species in Equestria. The War of Sorrows had wiped out over a quarter of them. And he had killed one more.
To be fair she had been hard to track down in the first place. He’d had to wait for her to touch down on the ground before he’d made his move. That had slowed him down by three days and his master had punished him for the wasted time. He’d never seen feathers covered in blood before. Even during the War the number of pegasus casualties had been few and far between compared to earth ponies. And none of them from his own squadron.
He looked at his marks because he had to remember their faces. He had to remember what his life had truly dissolved into. Pain. Unending pain and death. He’d contemplated taking his own life several times, but in the end he knew that Malsvir would just drag him back, and the merciless cycle would begin again.
He had to remember, because these weren’t supposed to just be faces. But for every fresh cut marred into his body that’s what they were becoming.
And he was afraid.
Every minute he wasn’t eating, sleeping, or counting his sins he was looking at the door. Waiting for his next mission. Waiting for the opportunity to walk back out into the real world, and escape this nightmarish box he was trapped in. But even stepping outside granted him little solace, because he knew that once he returned he would be carving another victim’s memory into his flesh. And carrying the weight of their soul upon his own.
The doors’ metal hinges screeched open and he reflexively stood, clenching his cloak between sharpened teeth and pulling it over his head. Although he considered himself ready for whatever horrid task Malsvir sent him on next, it still caught him by surprise when the shadowy dragon opened the portal and entered with another pony by his side.
He was a unicorn, and walked next to Malsvir blindfolded, with a brown satchel swung over his shoulder, and there was a peculiar lurch in his step. “Glad to see you so eager for your next kill, Kamati.” Malsvir said calmly, nudging the mystery pony forward, “And you shall soon have your fun, but before that I have brought a guest to our humble little abode.” He used a claw and cut the cloth from the pony’s eyes.
“This is Doctor Redlove, a renowned physician and surgeon of your kind. He is here to make you more…efficient in your techniques.”
“And how’s he gonna do that?” Kamati asked, he didn’t like the distant look in the doctor’s eyes. They were unfocused; as if he was staring into the oblivion of space. “Is he even safe to do something like that?”
“What, you mean this?” Malsvir chuckled maliciously, taping the top of Redlove’s head, “Worry not, Kamati. It’s just a little potion I brewed to put him at ease. He knows not where he stands, but he should be able to perform well enough; even if it is on reflex alone. And have you ever heard the old adage that a weapon is merely an extension of the body? Well, servant, your body shall soon become the weapon itself.” He gestured towards the metal chair that always stood in the center of the room, “Now be seated, the good doctor will see you now.”
Kamati stepped over to the familiar seat and took his place, feeling the restraints fall into place to bind him. Except this time his right foreleg was allowed to freely move. The entranced doctor walked over to his patient and inspected his leg with his distant stare. Shrugging the satchel off of his shoulder he unlatched the flap and rummaged through its contents; the sounds of metal instruments clinking against one another filled the quiet air of Kamati’s prison and he patiently waited for Doctor Redlove to begin.
He maintained his calm as the doctor pulled a freshly sharpened scalpel from his bag and moved to place the blade against his skin. “This may pinch a little…” the dark green pony said, his voice slurred and his eyes staring unblinkingly at the flesh he was going to carve in to. Kamati clenched his teeth as the scalpel touched his skin and began to dig deeply into it.
Starting from midway up his leg the medical instrument cut into his gray fur and skin, drawing long lines of blood along its path. But these weren’t the same kind of jagged cuts and slashes that Kamati had been inflicting upon his victims for the previous month; these lines were intricate and precise; a work of art, rather than an act of butchery. He envied them even as the marred his body. There had been an initial spray of red once his skin had been opened, but a glowing white aura began to quickly follow the silver knife that staunched the flow, coagulating the blood as it flowed from his skin.
He leaned back and closed his eyes as the entranced doctor went to work on him. The assassin clenched his teeth and fought not to cry out in pain as layers of skin and muscle were peeled away from his leg to expose bloodied bone. It may still not have been worse than his lessons in pain and endurance, but that didn’t stop it from hurting nonetheless. He could feel his blood oozing viscously down onto the armrest, and could hear it steadily dripping onto the floor.
A shrill whir cut across his eardrums, but before he could open his eyes he felt something begin to pierce a wide hole into the very bone that was revealed. Despite all of his training Kamati screamed out in agony. The sound was distant and unfamiliar to his ears. He had not made a sound in over a month and now he was hollering with furious intensity. He could feel shreds of thick bone peel from his body as the metal tip drilled just over half an inch into his leg. The pain was excruciating, and it took all of his concentrated effort to not lash out and smash the doctor’s face in with his other hoof.
He could hear Malsvir chucking at his misery as the drill continued to whir with electric life, and slowly dug another hole into his exposed limb. The process repeated itself again and again until there were four gaping holes burning all of Kamati’s senses away from him; except for excruciating anguish. He had lost all sense of time in the darkness of his closed eyes. He could only gasp for air as a metal plate was placed over the bone and thick bolts were tightened into the fresh holes. Sweat dripped from his forehead and his neck muscles clenched and unclenched repeatedly.
Then, it seemed as if the pain had suddenly stopped. There was no more burning, drilling, or tightening. Kamati slowly opened his eyes and let out a long and shaky breath. Looking out his window the shadows of the trees had deepen immensely since he had first sat down in the chair. He brought his stare down to look at his right leg.
The gray fur was still thickly stained with his blood, but there was not a single scratch to be found where the cuts had been previously laid.
He lifted the appendage and grimaced. His arm now felt like it weighed an extra fifteen pounds. The metal plate felt awkward and heavy beneath his skin, and he wanted nothing more than to bite into it until he had pried it free from his body.
“Stand, Kamati. Stand and feel your new weapon.”
Kamati watched the binding around his bottom legs and left front leg release him and he stood up. His right leg landed on the thick wooden planks with a ‘thud’, and he stretched it in an effort to get used to the new weight on his body.
The second time he brought the leg down there was a faint ‘snick’ sound, and he jumped in surprise as Sepa Virlym slid from the front of his hoof and pressed its tip into the floor. Raising his hoof Kamati inspected the blade closely. There was a small slit in his leg, just above the hoof where the blade jutted out, that was invisible unless you were looking for it. He tapped his hoof hard against the floor and the blade slipped noiselessly back into its new sheath.
He was now a living weapon. All purpose taken from him, but to kill.
“Do you like it, slave?” Malsvir grinned his toothy grin, “Now the blood of your targets shall be one with you after every kill.” The dragon shaman turned to leave the cell, “Put your new weapon to good practice now, Kamati. Mr. Redlove is your target for today. He knows far too much now. You must leave him somewhere that others will find him.”
Kamati looked over at the green unicorn, whose eyes were still gazing distantly into some unseen space. Tapping his hoof heavily on the floor, the blade jumped from its hidden purchase, and he stepped menacingly towards the blissfully unaware doctor.
There was a dark rage burning in his chest. This pony, whether he was conscious of it or not, had helped Malsvir to strip away his humanity even further. Turning him into even more of a machine designed only to kill. His thoughts in that moment were only to kill the doctor. To remove his life from him, just as Redlove had helped to remove Kamati’s life. And what sweeter form of poetic justice was there than for the monster to kill the very pony that had created him.
As the soul stealer smashed through Doctor Redlove’s chest plate, Kamati relished in the feeling. In the back of his mind, the part that was still that farm pony from Ponyville, he knew that he should be sickened by the feeling. But the rest of his thoughts were so consumed in rage and bloodlust that he did not feel it. All he could think about was garnering some kind of revenge against his tormentor. And since he could not kill Malsvir he put every hated moment of the last month and a half into every single stab and slash he inflicted.
There was fury that his life had been torn away from him. Contempt for Malsvir, Redlove, himself, and even Celestia for engaging in a war that had stolen fifteen years from him. Unbearable sadness that he would never see Applejack, Apple Bloom, or his lovely Fluttershy ever again. Impassioned rage that everything that could make him feel normal was being taken from him little by little.
He stood panting over the mangled corpse of his victim, blood matted against him, and dripping from his blade. Though the body for the recently deceased Doctor Redlove was almost beyond recognizable and messy, it was still in one whole piece. Standing over the body he fully realized the monster that he had become in such a short period of time.
And all monsters needed to be put down.
He needed to be free. Even if it meant he had to be caught and executed to do so. But Kamati could never risk simply turning himself in. Malsvir would know and inflict greater pains than even the ones he had just endured. He had to be subtle about it.
An idea struck him, and he turned over the doctor’s body, looking for the least scarred portion of his body. Finding a small area on his side that was untouched Kamati dug the tip of his blade into the skin and began to write.
***
Princess Twilight Sparkle sat in her study. Her hooves pressed firmly against her temples. Her normally perfectly straightened hair was frazzled and stuck out in odd places. Books, and papers covered in coffee stains surrounded her as she looked over her notes for the hundredth time in the past hour. She’s been awake for three days now, pouring over the images strewn in front of her.
There had to be some kind of pattern that she wasn’t seeing. Over 30 killings had occurred in the past two months, all with what seemed to be the same weapon, across several cities. She couldn’t find any kind of solid relationship between all of the deceased, other than that they had all served in the War of Sorrows. But even then they were in different battalions, with separate commanding officers, and in differing sections across Equestria.
She sighed and levitated the first message that had been sent to them up to her face. There hadn’t been a serial killer in Equestria in over 2,000 years, and in the beginning the Princesses had allowed the police and detective ponies to deal with this on their own. But it was once the notes started coming in along with the bodies that Twilight had been brought in on the investigation. It was a large regret on the royalty’s part, because if they had become involved sooner, they may have caught him early enough to avoid this needless massacre.
The first marked body had been identified as a surgeon from Manehatten named ‘Doctor Redlove’, he’d been an expert in his field and had saved near countless lives on the battlefield with his medical precision. He had no known enemies, and a long list of high profile friends. The body had been discovered in a ditch on the outskirts of Manehatten by a pegasus patrolling for garbage.
Though the body had been a mess of cuts and gashes there had been a message carved into the body that caught the coroner’s eye when doing the autopsy. On the picture hovering in front Princess Twilight’s face was a green canvas with dark lines scrawled across it. ‘Amazing Grace. There is no sound more profound. But can such a wretched soul as mine be saved?’
She stared at the words, dissected the letters within them. She couldn’t find an anagram, a hidden message, or even a trace of a double entendre. Even lining it up with the other messages that came with further bodies after it.
‘I am lost on the lesser road. Please find me and take me home. Can you find me at all?”
‘The pain is unending. The hatred that has been bred is undying. Those who are dead have earned their fate, but I know not why.”
‘Their blood is unwashed from my body. But it brings me some memory of who I was before. I hate it, but I need it to find myself once more.’
Twilight Sparkle groaned and let the photo fall to the table to be scattered amongst the other papers and pictures. She couldn’t tell if these riddles were taunts, cries for help, or just the random ramblings of a madpony. The alicorn princess swigged down the remains of another cup of coffee and stood up, stretching her legs and wings.
This was a challenge she was determined to face and defeat. There wasn’t a riddle in all of Equestria that she couldn’t find the answer to given the time. Saving any more ponies who would be the target of this depraved beings rampage was the top priority, but slowly this was becoming a personal issue to her.
Staring out the window she looked in the direction of her old home of Ponyville. Over there were ponies that she knew and loved like sisters. Some of them still hurting from the past fifteen years of misery inflicted upon the lands. Some of them with lost husbands and brothers. She wished she was able to go and see them. But for the time being she was stuck decoding messages carved in flesh and blood. And so long as they were at risk as well she couldn’t stop working.
Sitting back down at her desk she flipped on her coffee maker and put her head back in her hooves. She was going to have a long afternoon set before her.