“Hmm, Miss Jot, I didn’t think I’d see you again until your body was cremated.” Congresswoman Gramgaw droned in my general direction, not actually looking at me. I’d given myself up to the five police ponies and Abide. The hoofcuffs were put back on along with the matching magic dampening ring. I was hoping they’d just kill me again. Maybe I’d die if they chopped off my head or disintegrated me with a magical energy gun. Unfortunately, I was not so lucky. “However, I suppose I have the displeasure,” she continued, finally making eye contact. She recoiled at the sight of my wound and the still idly dripping y-cut.
“So back to her cell?” Abide asked, a bit too eagerly, “We can try to execute her again tomorrow.”
“Not exactly, Chief Abide,” she sighed, running a frustrated claw down her beak, “I’ve been going over our constitution. Gawd was quite clear. There is a clause preventing cruel and unusual punishments. Killing a pony in response to having been convicted of murder, justice.” Please just get to the part where you kill me again, I don’t need a lecture on the law. “Killing a pony again after surviving a wound that would kill anyone else, even a Canterlot ghoul, cruel. Keeping a pony detained beyond their sentence, unusual.”
“What?” Abide and I shouted in near unison.
“Congresswoman, you can’t be serious?” Abide shouted, “She is a convicted killer! My fiancé is dead because of her! She could kill again!”
“And if she kills again in the bounds of the NCR, we can try to execute her again.” Gramgaw stated, “Until then she is to be released. Her sentence has technically been carried out.”
“As much as I hate to agree with Abide, I should be killed.” I chimed in, “You only tried once. If at first you don't succeed, try, try again, right? You mentioned cremation?” That's the way Noted went, might as well go the same way. “We could try that. I’m game!”
“I’m sorry Miss Jot and Chief Abide, but the congress has decided. Even President Regina agrees with our decision, if hesitantly. Miss Jot was a unique case and we did not make the decision lightly.” Gramgaw decreed, silencing further discussion. “Chief Abide, remove her cuffs and magic dampening ring. Miss Jot, you are free to go. Though having been clinically dead and not ghoulified….your citizenship in the NCR has been revoked. You are free to reapply if you’d like.”
“This is a serious miscarriage of justice,” Abide muttered, filling the request, “She kills again it’s on you; on the whole damned congress.”
*** *** ***
I’d been let go. It was something I had a very mixed feeling about, but what was I to do? The congress rarely went back on a decision unless the President thought otherwise. Unfortunately, even Regina had let me go. So, since I had nothing better to do, I decided to return to work at the paper. I couldn’t wait to run my new story by Extra Extra Extra, the Tribune’s editor and chief.
Triple E, along with Bread, was one of the only ponies who had seen all the evidence on Coriander. At my trial she was a character witness in my defense, trying to lesson my sentence. Even after I told her I wanted to die. Somehow, supporting a convicted murder had not hurt sales of the paper.
Triple E was a pretty, young, pegasus mare with a yellow coat and red mane. Her eyes matched her mane and her cutie mark was a printing press. I’ve known her for years, ever since my quill and paper cutie mark appeared.
“So Jib, what was it like being on the other side?” Triple E asked in her usual inquisitive manner.
“I was in a stone room and there was a skeleton in chains. He/It didn’t want me there,” I explained, “Then I woke up.”
“Ooo,” she gawked, “So, are you ready to get back to work?”
“Yeah and I have a doozy of a story.” I beamed.
It was at this moment Abide decided to interject himself into the conversation. He had insisted that I have an escort while in the city so I couldn't 'go on a murder spree.' “You can’t do any work for her anymore, you're not an NCR citizen.”
His statement caught me off guard. I hadn’t thought having my citizenship revoked would affect my job. I've known many creatures who work in the NCR whom do not hold citizenship, but they're likely not convicted of a capital crime. I really hoped Triple E would have a way to keep me employed. At least until I found out why I was still alive and how I can go about dying for real.
“Hmmm….Then I’ll buy your next story as a freelancer.” Triple E thought out loud, to my delight and Abide's chagrin, “Rate will be less. About 350 caps or 230 NCR dollars less, but I think I have something to make up for it.”
“You can’t hire convicted criminals!” Abide snapped.
“Feh, I can hire whomever I please. It isn’t against the law.” E took pleasure in explaining the law to the lawbringer, “I have several bounty hunters and even a few thieves on my freelance payroll. Only way to compete with that damned DJ’s network.”
“But…” Abide protested.
“So how are you making up for the pay cut?” I asked, ignoring Abide.
“With my wife’s anniversary gift.” Triple E replied, “She sent me a pipbuck. I didn't want to tell her I had no need for it, but I couldn't just sell it either. You might get paid 350 caps less, but this is worth 10 times that.” She produced a finely decorated wooden box stamped with the Stable-Tec logo. Opening it she revealed a navy blue pipbuck accented with black lines and buttons, set in a plush, purple interior. “I don't mind if you sell it. However, I hear it is invaluable in combat.”
“It is a bit garish.” I said in mock disgust. In truth I had seen nothing more beautiful. I’d wanted one for years, but no pony was ever selling them at a reasonable price. This one in particular was unusually colored compared to the ones I'd read about and that peeked my interest. So I held out my front, left hoof to have it put on.
She lifted a matching key from a smaller slot in the box with her wing and unlocked the device. Using her hooves she slipped it on my forehoof, locking it again. It immediately came to life and attempted to scan my vitals. It simply confirmed that I was indeed deceased. Though unlike other pipbucks I’d seen, it had an image of the Goddess Luna in place of the usual pony icon. The words 'Welcome Princess Luna' scrolled across my vision, confirming who the intended recipient of this device was supposed to be. Where had Compass Rose found this?
I toggled to the inventory and was shocked to find I had one item on my person: ‘The Heart of Muertas’. Why does my heart have a name? Why is it counted as an item? It also had no cap value, which from my limited knowledge of pipbucks seemed rather unusual. Not that I knew how the wartime tech calculated things in modern cap or NCR dollar values, but it should at least have said some cost, right? Perhaps an equine heart was too beyond the pale for Stable-Tec to program it a price? I switched over to the radio and the voice of Triple E’s news rival began to fill the room. I enjoyed the eye twitch from E as I did so. I suspected this was part of the reason she didn’t want the device.
“-not a single pony has died in the wasteland today. Now you might be thinking I’m using hyperbole, but I assure you I’m not.” the voice of the most popular news network in the wastes belted.
So it isn’t just me?
E lunged for the device, hoping to silence it, but I quickly trotted away towards my desk. I wanted to hear the rest of the report.
“No matter the gravity of the wound, even those shot in the head have been gifted with the inability to die. Most waking up buried alive or in town morgues. Everywhere on Equis seems to be death free; even the Zebra Homelands if reports from Z-TV are correct.” The DJ went on.
“Please turn that off?” Triple E begged, covering her ears.
“I will when he’s done.” I nickered, taking a key from a coffee mug on the desk and unlocking it.
“Though this news is a double edged sword. Raiders take more to go down, if at all, and even then they will not be dead. You just have to disarm them and get out of there. Same goes with the wasteland’s most interesting monsters. Canterlot ghouls will not go down with a beheading. Disintegration is the only option. If you think I’m lying, ask the convicted murderer from the NCR, Jibbly. She was recently-”
I switched off the radio when he mentioned me by name. Not only did he use my first name, but he also lacked my side of the story. Anywhere else in the wasteland what I did would be hailed as justice. I’d accepted my death at the time mere hours before, but having lived through it, I began to hate how I was being portrayed posthumously. If I ever meet the DJ I will be sure to set him straight. Or better yet, publish it in the Tribune once I find new evidence. For now, I had to run the newest story by Triple E.
“Please tell me you have a story to make giving you that worth it?” E seethed, not liking the DJ for more than just his slander of my name.
“Yeah, I’m gonna find out why no pony is dying.” I beamed, “And give the exclusive story to the Tribune.”
“Yes, It will finally put me on top of that damned DJ!” she shouted gleefully and I stifled a laugh, “Not in that way.” she fumed, “Just don’t tell Compass I gave you that. She was so happy to find something so valuable in her travels.”
“Based on the reactions from Abide and the others, I’m the only undead in Junction City.” I mused, trying to find a lead to chase down, “I have an old friend in the Lunar Commonwealth. They are very spiritual. Might provide insight in the lack of death.”
“Excellent! Keep me posted.” Triple E said, heading back into her office.
I packed my saddlebag with what I had stored in my desk, since it was no longer mine. Some paper, a few quills, ink, some books, a box of fancy buck cakes, 2 sparkle colas, a canteen of water, a stuffed unicorn plushie, 1500 caps, and 32 NCR dollars went into the bags. Everything else I owned burned in the fire. I had a 10mm pistol, but that was still in police custody as far as I knew. It looked like I’d have to use my savings to buy a new weapon when I got to the next non-NCR settlement.
“If you're going,” Abide spoke up again, his voice bitter, “I’m going too.”
“The LC is out of your jurisdiction.” I deadpanned.
“Doesn't matter, you’re a criminal. It is going to look bad on the NCR if you kill again. I’m going to make sure you don’t.” He spat, and suddenly I had the feeling I wouldn’t be buying that new gun anytime soon. “That and I tendered my resignation when they let you go.”
Why couldn’t I just have died like I was supposed to? I complained internally as I levitated my red, wool jacket and saddlebags onto my torso and my black fedora onto my head. I was sure to pull the hat down to cover the missing parts of my forehead. Unfortunately, my horn ripped the brim down the middle, but at least less ponies would stare.
*** *** ***
“Please let me have a gun?” I begged.
I’d been reduced to begging. I, a hard as nails, wasteland wise, muckracking journalist, was begging. I started simply asking, but over the course of the day and a half I’d become more and more whiney until I began to beg.
“For the 5000th time, Jibbly, No.” Abide deadpanned.
“You’ve never left the damned city!” I continued, “You’re no better than a stable pony.” I paused as I realized he once again used my first name and finally chose to correct him, “And my name is Jot. I’ll geld you if you call me that again.”
“With what?” Abide shot back. With my teeth if I have to, you prick! “Besides, I’d just shoot you before you got the chance.”
I just raised an eyebrow and levitated off my hat, “Would be as ineffective as my execution.”
“The answer is still no,” He spat, “I will not give you a weapon of any kind. No chance for you to kill again.”
“What if I need to defend myself?” I asked.
He sighed begrudgingly, “Then I will defend you to the best of my ability.”
“Ever face a feral ghoul? A raider? Perhaps a hellhound?” I pressed, “They aren’t like the usual criminals you're used to.”
We neared a downed skychariot as our argument continued. Had I not been arguing, I would have insisted on another route. I’ve learned from experience that raiders liked to use carts and wagons like that for ambushes.
“I’ve read the guard operations manual and several martial arts books at the Follower's library. I think I can handle myself.” he scoffed.
“How about the Wasteland Survival Guide?” I challenged.
He faltered, his body language saying he had not read the very useful book. “I...I skimmed the first edition.” he admitted sheepishly, “Never thought I’d need it.”
“You’re lucky I ghost wrote parts of the Sunshine and Rainbows editions of the regular and Hoofington versions.” I bragged, and at his look I went on, “Ditzy was busy with her shop and I needed the caps. I got signed copies of all four books. Never go anywhere outside the city without them.”
“Ok, will you let me see them?” he asked, naively glad I’d stopped asking for a gun.
“For a price:” I smirked, levitating the S & R edition from my bag, “A gun.”
He facehoofed just as an anti-material round tore through my prized book. The spine gave way and papers began to fall. I caught them quickly in my magic and shoved them into my saddlebag before they blew away.
Fuck! Raiders! Out of habit, I went for my gun – the gun I didn’t have anymore. Abide fumbled to get his gun from its holster and loaded. In the process ,He dropped a box of 10 mm rounds on the ground as more bullets impacted around us. Has he even shot a gun before? Why in Equestria was it not loaded already?
Realizing my own stupidity, I got behind cover and turned on my Eyes Forward Sparkle. A helpful feature of pipbucks and power armor that somehow knows if a pony is a friend or a foe. The cool, blue interface appeared on the perifirals of my vision. A message about a tutorial flashed, temporarily blocking my sight. I clicked 'Y' to clear it, only to have other messages pop up showing where the compass/EFS, active quest marker, HP – which just showed a sideways 8 – ammo – none – and clock were located. I grunted in frustration as I acknowledged the pop-ups. My vision finally clear, I glanced at the EFS. We were outnumbered seven to two.
Abide saw me get behind cover and attempted to find some of his own. Once there he finally got the gun loaded – my gun I noted – and fired it blindly at the skychariot in the direction of the gunshots.
“Kill the frumpy one, too old to get a good price. The buck is a better catch.” a mare called to her subordinates.
Slavers! Not raiders, but just as bad. Fuck, I really need a gun! My mind only then catching what the mare had referred to me as, “Hey!" I shouted, stepping out of cover indignantly, "I’m not frump–”
An AM round tore through the top of my hat and worsened the missing part of the back of my head. The dull pain that had been present since waking up in the morgue flared and I dropped to the cracked pavement. I tried to move, but the shot had retold my body that it was supposed to be dead and so all I could do was watch as the seven slavers closed in and took down Abide.
Why did I care? I asked myself as my vision faded to black, Without him, I can finally get a gun.
*** *** ***
Footnotes:
Jibbly Jot: NO STATUS CHANGES
New Equipment: Princess Luna's Pipbuck 3000 – You have gained a unique pipbuck once intended for Princess Luna. What secrets does it hold beyond that of the normal pipbuck? You'll just have to find out for yourself.
Quests Started:
Royally Bucked – Unlock the mysteries of Princess Luna's Pipbuck 3000.
New Companion: Abide – Level 3
Strength - 8
Perception - 7
Endurance - 7
Charisma - 6
Intelligence - 6
Agility - 4
Luck - 2
Traits:
Lawbringer – You are a lawpony with a deep sense of right and wrong. Speech checks with morally good ponies are 20% easier to pass. You deal 15% more damage to morally bad ponies and ignore 10% of their armor’s DT.