//------------------------------// // Article 1: Dead Mare Walking // Story: Fallout: Equestria – Wasted Miracles // by MuseoSansPony //------------------------------// Death. Death is the one thing in the wasteland that you can’t outrun. It is inevitable. Even the abominations of the wastes all end up dead eventually. Death is often feared, it can be sudden or drawn out. End up unlucky and your number is up. Alternatively, one can choose when they die in a whole manner of ways. This was something I had made peace with. I had chosen to die. The moment I shot Coriander point blank in the Junction City market I knew my fate was sealed. The trial was open and shut. The number of witnesses and my candid confession of my actions made the NCR have no choice but to sentence me to death. I felt no remorse over killing Coriander. She was a corrupt, backstabbing, vile pony. She had wronged me. I just couldn’t prove it in the NCR court of law. Any evidence was burned to ash along with my daughter, Noted Script, when Coriander’s goons burnt down my home to silence me. I guess I should explain. My name is Jibbly Jot, though if you call me Jibbly I’ll break every bone in your body before you can utter a sorry, so I advise you just call me Jot.  Trust me, I’ve spent several nights in jail over assault charges because of it. I was an investigative journalist for the Junction City Tribune. I was on the verge of the biggest story since the Lightbringer brought back the sun.  Something so shocking it would break the NCR government down to its very core. It all started when a series of explosions destroyed some government buildings in town. It was assumed to be a terrorist attack by the Anti-NCR group, United Equestria. Bread Crumbs, from the police task force, was leaking me his findings. The explosion uncovered evidence that could prove the corrupt dealings of Congresswoman Coriander. He and his team had almost nailed her. Then a month into the investigation the task force was disbanded without explanation. Officially the congress said that they had a 3rd party investigate and found a faulty gas stove was the reason for the explosion, but neither Bread nor I bought that explanation. We kept digging. Without warning, Bread Crumbs dropped off the map. I was lucky that I had insisted on keeping a copy of any evidence in the study at my house or it all would have been gone along with Bread. I knew Bread would want me to finish the story, so I kept digging on my own for about another week. While I was out chasing a lead at R7, one of the many city taverns, my house was burned to the ground. Noted Script and my evidence along with it. I knew, deep down I knew, it was Coriander’s doing. She had taken everything from me. Bread Crumbs, Noted Script, my home. Nothing was left but my freedom and my reputation. I wanted her to pay with her life. So I went to the market the next day and shot her. She was dead in an instant, but it didn’t bring back my daughter or dull the pain in my heart. At least the vile pony was dead. I could be sentenced to death in peace knowing that she couldn’t hurt any more ponies. ***  ***  *** “Jibbly Jot!” the guard called out, banging a hoof loudly on the bars of my cell. I stirred awake, mentally I cringed at being referred to by my full name. Why my adoptive parents chose such an off putting name was beyond me. I choked down the urge to attack the guard for not knowing I just go by Jot. I was going to be dead in a few minutes, so it hardly mattered. “Finally. I thought you were never gonna kill me,” I replied as I pushed myself to my hooves and waited for him to unlock the cell. The guard was a handsome, brown, unicorn, stallion with a jet black mane and orange eyes. His cutie mark was a rusted police badge.  For some reason he seemed familiar. He levitated the keys from his utility belt and unlocked the cell. Before he opened the door however, a set of magic hoofcuffs appeared on my legs.  They were a perfect match to go with my other accessory: The magic dampening ring on my horn. “it is almost as if you think I’m dangerous or something,” I mocked as he finally opened the door. “You're a convicted murderer,” he spat with so much malice I could almost taste it. I didn’t know what radroach crawled up his ass, but he really hated me. I had gunned down the most well loved – and corrupt – pony this side of the wastes, but this was more than a passing hatred for the killer of a public official. This guard gave off the aura that he loathed me to my very soul. Though I didn’t really care, I’d be dead in the next five minutes. “Coriander was a good mare. She had so many plans to help this city, to help the NCR, and you gunned her down with no remorse,” he ranted, tears forming in his eyes. It was then that I recognized him from the trial. He was one of the witnesses. He had also been with Coriander when I’d killed her. His name was Abide and he was Coriander’s fiancé. He was also the chief of police for Junction City. Bread Crumbs had worked under him. Now I knew why he hated me so much. In the back of my mind I noted the revelation that Abide’s closeness to Coriander was the likely reason the police investigation was concluded. Were I not about to die and he not armed, I’d have interrogated him about his connection in a vain attempt to revive my final news article. “Coriander was responsible for the death of my daughter,” I spat, my sarcastic merth giving way to anger. If I was going to die, I was going to go out with her fiancé knowing of her heinous deeds. “What kind of ‘good mare’ burns a filly alive to destroy evidence of corruption?” “She would never do that!” Abide seethed. “Move along, we are already late for your execution” The conversation ended there. I trotted out of my cell the best I could in the hoofcuffs and began to trot down the hall to the execution. Abide following closely behind. ***  ***  *** “Any final words, Miss Jot?” Congresswoman Gramgaw, and elderly griffon with a scar across her left eye, asked as I was hooked into a set of restraints. At least she hadn’t called me Jibbly. I turned my head up and looked her straight in the eyes, “I do: You're Welcome. Coriander was corrupt. You are all better off without her.’” My words were met with a series of boos from the fairly large crowd who had gathered to watch my execution. The executioner raised his rifle and aimed it at my head. “On behalf of the NCR, I sentence you, Jibbly Jot, to death for the murder of Congresswoman Coriander,” Gramgaw stated and with a nod of her beak the executioner pulled the trigger. Time slowed to a crawl as the bullet sped towards me. It was like how pipbuck users describe things when the Stable-Tec Arcane Targeting Spell is activated, but I had no pipbuck. Chained up, I was defenceless to avoid it. Not that I wanted to. The bullet hit me square in the forehead, right below my horn. All at once time resumed its normal pace and I felt searing pain for an instant. After that I fell over dead. My execution had been completed. I was plunged into darkness. The pain of the bullet to the head washed away and I felt calm and relaxed. So this is what dying feels like, I thought letting out a sigh, Not too bad I guess. As suddenly as I was in the darkness I was dropped into a stone room. It reminded me of pictures of the Castle of the Two Ponies Sisters from a time before the war I’d found once. It consisted of cool, bluish black stone and there was an ornate red rug in the center. The room lacked a roof. All there was above me was the black void I had likely just been in. The only window in the room gave way to the same void.  The air – if you could call it that – was dry, still and smelled fresh.  The musty, dank, or dusty taste of the wasteland was not present in this place.  If you ask me, it was a major improvement. Chained to the wall with green chains was the skeleton of a unicorn in a torn black cloak.  His bones were stark white showing no signs of age.  The cloak looked almost as if it were made of shadows.  It appeared to waft slowly in a non-existent breeze. My forehead suddenly began to sting dully. Tentatively I reached up and poked the spot the sensation was coming from. Pain shot through my head and I called out. Immediately I removed my hoof to find a bloody piece of my skull stuck to it. What in equestria? I was executed? I’m dead! Where the fuck am I? I tried to keep whatever counted as my lunch in the afterlife down as my stomach lurched from the sight. I shouldn’t feel pain here, right? “Y-you?” a voice rasped, startling me. I glanced around the room again.  There were just four walls, the floor, the rug, me, a window and a lifeless skeleton. Who had talked? Wait, was the skeleton talking to me? “No you shouldn’t be here!” the voice came again, this time I saw the jaw of the skeleton move. A skeleton was talking to me.  Well, this is the afterlife, right? “He can’t get us both! He can’t!” he went on, at least I assumed he was a he based on the voice and the general makeup of his bones.  The pinpricks of light that constituted his eyes widened in abject horror. “Who can’t have me?” I asked back. Instead of responding, his horn lit up in a crimson glow. His magic reached out to my horn and it too lit up. Strange words began to echo in my head: ‘vita sine morte.’ “Vita sine morte.” we said as one over and over until everything faded to white. ***  ***  *** With a loud gasp I opened my eyes. The dull pain below my horn returned and my chest ached uncomfortably, but other than that I was alive and well. WAIT? I’m alive? I looked up at the horrified mortician. It was a rather uncommon occurrence for her patients to wake up mid autopsy. I was on my back under a very bright light. Looking about I figured out why my chest ached. A Y-shaped cut had been carved in my underside. The skin was pulled back and a rusty clamp held open my ribs – cut in half along the center. “Mwindth sthewing mweh byack ulp.” I slurred, my mouth not wanting to work correctly. The shocked mare did not comply. Instead her face went from blue to stark white, dropping the scalpel in her telekinesis and bolting from the morgue. It took effort, but I pushed myself up to a sitting position. It should have hurt, but didn’t. Then again, I was supposed to be dead. Maybe that is why the pain was severely dulled. The movement also shook off the rusted clamps keeping my ribs apart. I struggled to push them closed, followed by the flayed skin. I need to find some way to keep this closed. I scanned the morgue. It had been a morgue before the wasteland. It was in the part of the congress building that was once an old Equestrian prison. ‘Shittier Hoof’ or something like that. I don’t know, I write current events not history books. In the years since Junction’s founding it had been cleaned and even maintained. The walls looked dingy, but clean. Though there were signs of rust on the far metal wall that contained other dead ponies. Next to the autopsy table was a small, rusting table with several tools. Some were typical of an operating table. Others were wasteland recreations if the old world tools could not be found. Among them was a thick needle and some twine. Good enough I suppose. Focusing I activated my magic. At first it was difficult, I figured if magic was tied to life force and I was dead, it stood to reason I would no longer have any, but then it activated. A crimson red glow formed around the needle and twine. Funny, hadn’t my magic been yellow? Ignoring the thought I began to sew up my chest. Well, first I had to remove the scalpel from where it had landed in the center of my heart. I tried not to think about the lack of any other organs. Standing, I made my way to the door the mortician had left from. I had to find out how they managed to botch my execution. Had they botched it? Or had I defied death like a canterlot ghoul? My muscles were very stiff, so making my way out of the morgue was harder than it rightly should have been. It took me 15 minutes to get out the door and down the hall, then another 10 min to ascend the steps. Once back into the main section of the old prison I finally met resistance. Abide, and five other police ponies had quickly assembled to face the resurrecting murderer.  Guns shook in mouths and magic.  They might have been used to ghouls and even Canterlot ghouls, but I was an honest to goodness zombie by all pre-war definitions, short of eating brains.  I simply stood there dumbly as a thick stream of coagulated blood began to drip from a gap in my poorly done sutures from the stab wound in my heart. “Halt.” Abide ordered, but fear was evident in his voice. “Abwide,” I slurred, moving my mouth and tongue to loosen the tight muscles, “I was just looking for you. Can I get a redo on my execution? Didn’t seem to stick.” ***  ***  *** Footnotes: Jibbly Jot – ERROR DATA NOT FOUND Traits: Wild Wasteland – Wild Wasteland unleashes the most bizarre and silly elements of post-apocalyptic Equestria. Not for the faint of heart or the seriousness of temperament. Quest Perk added: No Death Glitch – Umm...you’re supposed to be dead, but you're not. You have no SPECIAL. You have no HP. As long as you have an intact body you can live. You also gain negative levels starting at your next level. Quests Started: Beyond the End – Figure out why no pony can die. One Spicy Story – Find a new lead for the Coriander Corruption Story Prove that Coriander killed your daughter ERROR – ERROR ERROR ERROR