//------------------------------//
// The Undead Revolution, Part 2 
// Story: Doctor Whooves; Series 1 
// by Tiedye3000 
//------------------------------//

PREVIOUSLY:
"Are those zombie ponies?"
"Not infected! Not infected!"
"Were you trying to negotiate with those brainless things?"
"Such concentration. She doesn't seem to need to blink as much as others do, I haven't noticed her blink once."
"Your daughter has been subjected to a disease known as the Insertion."
"I-Is there a- a cure?"
"Not here there isn't, but Brittleton was known for having extreme remedies."
"You! You ran from me!"
"You're not from this time period, detective. And I'm afraid there's more than one of me if you were able to get outside of your timezone."
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"Ditzy is missing, I have no leads, but there's only one place on this world where those things could've come from. Only one person - or pony - that I know of could've messed this timeline up. Only one, the one I hate to remember."
The Doctor said this aloud to himself as the whirring of the TARDIS echoed throughout the control room; they had just taken off for Great Brittleton. He had taken Tracer back to the TARDIS on his own, which meant fighting through an enormous group of flesh-rotten Inserted. He managed it in the end, of course, nothing he couldn't handle.
Tracer had been unconscious the entire time, he had taken such a huge blow from the news he received. The Doctor could hardly imagine what other ponies had been pulled out of their time and into a different one, but who ever it was, they weren't stopping. He knew for a fact that it wasn't the Weeping Angels, because the touch of an Angel merely zapped someone into the past without any idea how they got there. Tracer had thought he'd lived here his entire life. It would be nearly impossible to find any other ponies who are out of date.
The rumbling of the TARDIS was probably what awoke Tracer. As he stirred, he rubbed his eyes, trying to adjust them to the bright light that poured into them. When his eyes finally focused again, he looked around the interior and nearly fainted a second time; his eyes rolled back, he groaned, and the back of his head smacked the floor with a thud.
"It's too much," he grumbled, "It's just too much."
"Welcome inside the TARDIS, my friend," the Doctor said, still working the controls.
"TARDIS," Tracer repeated, "Where have I heard that name before?"
"We're going to Great Brittleton, to answer your earlier question," the Doctor spoke, not listening to the detective, "I have a feeling that's where Ditzy is. I have a feeling that's where the Inserted came from in the first place."
"What makes you say that?"
"Haven't you noticed? It's always Brittleton for some reason."
Tracer chuckled, "Yeah, it's pretty crazy over there. Slumplort is a terrible ruler."
"Slumplort?" The Doctor asked, suddenly turning and looking down at him, "Who's... ohhh, that's right."
"Slumplort III," Tracer said, then he scoffed, "What an idiot. I'm glad I moved out of Brittleton when I..."
His voiced trailed off, remembering that that part of his life was a lie.
"We'll get your real memories back," the Doctor promised, "Trust me on that."
Tracer grinned, and he got to his hoofs and walked over to the control panel.
"So what is this thing?" He asked curiously.
"The Time And Relative Dimensions In Space," the Doctor said proudly, "Or 'TARDIS' for short. I sometimes just call it the telephone box, the police box, even Sexy at times."
"Why do you call it that?"
"Do you remember that blue box that appeared out of nowhere at the fort?"
"Yeah, but that was just a small blue box... are you saying that we're in the box right now?"
"Indeed."
For a third time, Tracer nearly fainted, but he caught his balance this time and merely stumbled.
"But that means it's... it's..."
The Doctor braced himself for his favorite part of making new companions.
"...It's smaller on the outside!"
"Exactl- wait, what?" The Doctor was a bit startled, no one ever put it that way before.
"The outside is smaller than the inside!" Tracer said exasperatedly, "The inside's bigger than the outside! It's bigger on the inside!"
"There it is!" the Doctor said loudly, and triumphantly.
"But what is it?" Tracer asked, still mesmerized and looking around at the flashing buttons and glowing lights, "I know it's some sort of time machine, but how does it do the whole... thing?"
"Timelord Science. In other words, it's another dimension."
"And what's a 'Police Box', anyway?"
"Well," the Doctor prepared for a very long explanation, "The TARDIS isn't really a police box, think of it more as a spaceman's UFO. But the police box comes from the year 1963, where they were used as quick-access imprisonment for crooks until they were sent to prison. But this particular type of police box was used for making short-term phone calls if no others were nearby when someone got injured, mugged, shot, killed, yadda-yadda-yadda.
"Now, the TARDIS had this function called a Cameleon Circuit, which enabled the TARDIS to have the ability to change it's appearance. A disguise, if you would. When landing in a certain place and timezone, the TARDIS analyzes its' surroundings from a 1,000 mile radius and during the first fraction of a second, camouflages itself as the thing it thinks will blend in the best."
"And then it disguises itself as a police box from 1963?"
The Doctor blinked at Tracer, the fact that he was catching on so quickly was extraordinary, "Precisely. And I just had the weirdest sense of Deja Vu right now..."
A series of electric whooshing emitted from the TARDIS, indicating that it was landing.
"Now is the time we go," the Doctor said, a bit reluctant for once, "Allons-y, I suppose."
He trotted over to the TARDIS door, not even caring he just rhymed again. But he merely stood there, staring at the handle in what seemed to be determined concentration.
"Erm..." Tracer said awkwardly, "Are we going or not?"
"Yeah, we're going," the Doctor said, not taking his eyes off the handle, "Just as soon as I figure out how to open this damned thing."
Tracer gave the Doctor a funny look, and turned the door handle as if it were as easy as chewing gum.
"Thanks," the Doctor said, and stepped outside the TARDIS.
Great Brittleton didn't look at all different from Equestria; the clouds were the same brownish-red, the same moaning sound from the undead ponies, the same burning buildings. But there was one building that stood out from the rest: A large castle stood right in front of them, and swirling around it was a green mist; it sounded as though millions of ponies were crying out all at once.
"What in the name of Great Apollo is that?" Tracer gasped, staring blankly up at the castle.
"By your words, that's the royal palace of King Slumplort III," the Doctor answered in a casual tone, "And the green mist is all the souls of the ponies."
"By God," Tracer sighed, still stunned at the sight, "Is there any way to help them?"
"Of course," the Doctor answered, "Right in the source of it: The Castle."
"The- inside the- HOLD ON A MOMENT!" Tracer suddenly shouted, "I've always wanted a little adventure in my life, but dammit, Doctor! This is too much! I figured it would be easier than this! "
"What kind of adventure is easy?" the Doctor said, still in his casual tone.
Tracer made to retort back, but his words tangled up with his tongue.
"I- what- you- kind of- Who told you that?"
"I told me that," the Doctor stated happily, "Now let's ride!"
With that, he began a fast but cautious trot toward the castle. Tracer groaned loudly and followed in suit.
As they trotted up the path toward the castle, Tracer admitted to himself that this seemed a bit too easy, as if the zombies wanted them to get inside. This feeling made him a bit more reluctant to follow the Doctor, but if it meant finding out who he, Tracer, truly was, then by golly it's worth it.
They were now at the foot of the castle, and the screaming was now drilling itself into Tracer's ears. How much he wanted to block out the sound, even he wasn't sure, but as they walked through the entrance and shut the door behind them, all sound and vision was cut off. They were left in total darkness.
"Doctor, you there?" Tracer's voice echoed.
"Right next to you. Hold on..."
"GAH!!!"
"Whoops! Sorry, didn't mean to nudge you like that.... ah, there she is."
An electric buzzing filled the hall, and a sudden burst of green light caused temporary blindness for Tracer. When his eyes adjusted to the light again, he was greeted by an alarming display; pony skeletons were hanging from the walls, blinking eyes were staring at them from the ceiling, and at the top of a staircase in front of them stood the shadow of a tall pony.
"You were not summoned," a royal voice rang throughout the room, "Nopony may enter King Slumplort III's castle unless summoned!"
"You've summoned me in the worst way possible, Slumplort!" The Doctor yelled in an angry tone, "Through my anger!"
"You address your King as 'Your Majesty!'" Slumplort shouted, and the shadow waved a hoof. Immediately, the skeletons hanging from the walls sprang to life, jumped off the walls, and surrounded them. This did nothing whatsoever, as the Doctor merely hit each of them with a blast of his Sonic Screwdriver. Each fell to the ground in a heap of bones.
"You are not my King!" He shouted, "I demand Parley with the High Esteemed Ruler!"
"You are speaking to him!" Slumplort's voice called.
"Not ruler of Brittleton."
Slumplort let out a scream of rage and the shadow waved both hoofs. The eyes on the ceiling began to slowly descend, their pupils growing larger and larger.
"Don't look into them!" The Doctor shouted, covering his face with his hoof. It was Tracer's turn to act, but searching around the room he couldn't find anything that could help them, all that was in there was a dinner table and a book shelf. Then he remembered: Slumplort loved to eat chicken! And what does chicken always taste better with? He raced toward the table, grabbed a salt shaker, and hurtled it at the large cluster of eyes.
A large, ear-piercing wail emitted from the eyes, and they started crying and shriveling up. One by one they dropped off the ceiling, all landing around the Doctor, who opened his eyes again and laughed in triumph.
"What's the matter?" The Doctor shouted to the shadow, "Got something in your eye? No, all joking aside, you're seriously doing terrible."
Slumplort shouted in rage once more, and a voice unlike his rang throughout the hall. A cold voice, that practically froze the entire hall and made even the Doctor shudder.
"Please, Lord," it hissed, "Let me feed upon their souls!"
"Well, well, well," the Doctor said as if he knew this voice quite well, "If it isn't the famed Lord Necromancer."
"Lord Doctor," the voice hissed, "It's been too long. I've always anticipated this moment, when I finally pluck the very soul of Gallifrey's finest Timelord, to take it for my own!"
"Have you, now?" The Doctor said in a surprisingly amused voice, "I'm flattered!"
"You do not take me seriously. I have ways to change your mind."
The shadow flicked his hoof, and in it appeared a glowing green soul. In the center were a pair of eyes, each facing the opposite way.
"NO!"
The Doctor ran forward and up the staircase to where the shadow stood. They now stood face-to-face, but the Doctor was staring at the soul with grief on his face. He then fell to his knees in a defeated way.
"Ditzy..." he cried, "I'm so sorry..."
"Where's my body?" The soul of Ditzy Doo asked, "Where's my body?"
"Let me refresh your memory of what I can do with my powers," the shadow laughed, "I can open portals leading to the Abyss-" he waved his other hoof, and in the middle of the hall a large green and black hole opened, and Tracer nearly fell into it; he caught the ledge just in time- "I can summon souls from the Abyss-" a sudden burst of air sent Tracer soaring through the air as souls came flowing up through the portal, and he landed flat on his back at the top of the staircase, knocking the wind out of him-"and I can put souls into the Abyss."
As Tracer stood up again, the shadow turned to him and lowered its' hood, and the Doctor shouted again; glowing green eyes now stared deeply into Tracer's, and no matter how hard he tried to look away, he found it impossible. A sudden pulling feeling issued from his chest, and it steadily became more and more painful. Finally, when Tracer had started screaming in pain, and a greenish glow began to pop out of his chest, his body went limp, and his soul burst free of its' body. Tracer then fell to the ground, his body still as stone.
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The Necromancer chuckled evilly to himself as he now had the souls of two of the Doctor's friends in his hoofs. The Doctor starred furiously at the back of his enemy's head, trying desperately to hold back the temptation to bash his head into the stone floor. No, he needed the Necromancer alive if there was any hope of retrieving his friends' souls back. He quickly transformed the fury into misery, and he fell to his knees as the Necromancer turned to face him again.
"Both gone," his voice hissed, "Both soulless. You've weakened, my Lord Doctor, I remember the times where you were so assertive."
"Why?" The Doctor asked, his voice trembling, "Why are you doing this? Plenty of souls are meant to be taken, but not those of the living! You're ending the lives of so many before they can ever truly live! They have dreams, we all do, and you're preventing them from achieving them! You need to limit yourself, Necromancer. If you continue abusing your powers in this fashion-"
"What will happen to me? You have no one to call. Back in your universe, maybe, but none in this one. No Rose, Martha, or Donna to help you, only these ridiculous ponies. The only thing they're good for is their delicious souls!"
A slapping sound echoed through the hall as the Necromancer smacked his lips.
"The only thing anyone is good for is life!" The Doctor cried desperately, "Leave the darkness behind you, Necromancer, there's nothing there for you but misery and doubt. Come back to the light!"
As the Doctor said this, the clouds covering the sky above them began to fade, and very little sunlight began to shine through the glass ceiling. One of these streaks hit the Necromancer on his shoulder, and shriek escaped his shadowed lips as a hole was burned through his cloak. A bare patch of his skin was now showing, a deep blue color. He pulled his shoulder back as he let out one more shout before glaring furiously at him.
The Doctor, on the contrary, was now looking from the light to his foe with utter astonishment on his face.
"Seriously?" He asked at last, "That was your weather code? 'Light'?"
The clouds began clearing faster, and the Necromancer backed away rapidly, sticking to the remaining shadows as they all started to vanish.
"Stop it!" He shrieked as he backed against the wall, "The sun will kill me if it has to!"
"And what does that mean?" The Doctor asked, hardly caring as his foe coward on the wall, "You sound as though the sun hates you."
"You foal, it does hate me!" The Necromancer hissed with anger and fear, "I'm dark, it's bright! Darkness never prevails in that sort of fight!"
"That was another rhyme!" The Doctor said happily before turning serious again, "I'm glad you finally learned that lesson, Necro. It must've taken you, what, a thousand years?"
"If I die, you'll never get your friends souls back!"
"Actually, that's not how it works. I would explain it, but time is of the essence. So I'll just rap this up with a phrase I've heard personally: LET THERE BE LIGHT!"
The clouds dispersed, shining in light that ponies made hadn't seen in ages. Several beams of light struck the Necromancer, who almost instantly caught fire. He screeched a terrible shriek, slapping at the flames engulfing around his body as his cape burnt away. He raced towards the portal in the ground, jump in, and was gone. All the spirits he had stolen flew back to their original owners. In a distant place, a mare and her brother rejoiced as her daughter regained the ability to talk.
The Doctor watched as several souls sailed through the roof of the castle, going off to find their bodies, knowing that Ditzy was one of them. Behind him, Tracer stepped up to watch in wonder at this peculiar sight.
"Now I've seen everything," he muttered.
"Would you like to see more?" The Doctor asked him.
Tracer looked at him in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"Ditzy Doo is still out there. We need to find her, and since you're a detective, I think you'd be very useful."
"I'm not much of an inter-galactic space detective, if that's what you'd call me."
"You don't have to be. You just have to be good enough to help me find her. You do believe you're good enough, right?"
Tracer pondered these words carefully. Going through time and space, seeing what no other pony has seen before... well, except the Doctor, anyways.
"Yes," he finally answered, "I believe I can help."
"Fantastic," the Doctor smiled, "So, what comes first?"
"You're asking me?" Tracer exclaimed, surprised at the genius asking for help first, "Where did you last see her?"
"I was carrying her outside that little bunker when I first arrived her, remember?" The Doctor explained.
"Can you give me any details as to where you were exactly?" Tracer questioned, taking out a notebook and a pen.
"Well, not really, I suppose about thirty hundred or so steps south and- HOW ARE YOU DOING THAT!?" The Doctor suddenly demanded.
Tracer leaped back in shock and almost dropped his pen, which he had been using to write down information in his notebook. "What?" He asked.
"You were writing with hooves!" The Doctor spoke loudly, "HOOVES! How do you ponies do this?"
"You're a pony yourself, you know," Tracer reminded him.
"I'm... oh, that's right," the Doctor said as he calmed down, "I haven't told you that yet, have I?"
"What?"
"Let's go to the TARDIS. I'll tell you once we find Ditzy Doo."
Tracer, suspicious about the secret he knew the Doctor was hiding, followed him down out of the castle and into the front gates, where ponies were walking around again, talking merrily to each other and ignoring the big blue box in the front of the castle.
"Well, onwards and upwards we go," the Doctor said, opening the door to the TARDIS (not without Tracer's reluctant help) and  entering the TARDIS. Many passers-by gaped in amazement as the blue box dematerialized and vanished out of nowhere, leaving a blank spot in the front of the castle.
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After the Revolution between Equestria and Great Brittleton raged on until 1783, when the Brittlish surrendered at the battle of Porktown. King Slumptlort III never forgot what happened with the evil spirits, and what the ponies did to over throw his most powerful adversary. To his death, he swore that he would get revenge. But that did not come. At least, not for a while...