//------------------------------//
// Chapter 2: Painful, Mysterious Aftermath 
// Story: The Midland Experiment 
// by ScarFox9700 
//------------------------------//

Following my horrific burns, I was rushed to the Ponyville General Hospital thanks to the valiant efforts of the Ponyville Ambulance Company, and upon my arrival, I was rushed to the Burn Ward, where my wounds were cleaned, and the damage assessed. It was pretty bad. The left 1/3 of my face, the left side of my neck, almost my entire left arm, my left hand, and part of my chest had been severely burned, and the chest burns were bad enough to cause my breathing to become ragged, as seen in the scrapyard. 

Over the next several days, I was in excruciating pain when not zonked out on drugs, and had undergone a number of surgeries, the first of which had been to remove my burned shirt sleeve and glove from my left arm and hand. My left eye was safe, since I'd been wearing a pair of protective goggles when I got burned (which I later ripped off of my face just before I stumbled out of the shed), but I still felt a stinging sensation in it for a few days. During periods of rest in between surgeries, I was questioned at length by the Police, and it was during this time that the full truth of what I'd been doing came out. 

I had been extremely distraught that the Equestrian Railroad had been withdrawing steam locomotives from service, and scrapping them in favor of diesel locomotives, so I began to look into creating a brand-new type of engine, one that could haul more freight, in less time, and using less fuel than a diesel locomotive, yet was also easy to maintain. That was when I remembered the 2-10-4 Texas-Type steam locomotives that had been built by the Baldwin Locomotive Works back on Earth, particularly "Madam Queen", aka AT&SF 5000, which had been in service from 1930-1957, and was revolutionary for its time. Equestria had no engines like this, with their two largest types being the equivalent of a 2-8-2 Mikado locomotive, and a 4-8-4 Niagara locomotive, so I knew that if I was going to do this, I was going to have to build one from scratch, and I was in the perfect position, and location to do so. 

For weeks leading up to this day, I was jotting things in my notebook; things like engine sketches, lists of parts I was going to need, lists of tools and supplies I was going to need, where I was going to be building this engine, and various progress reports from my efforts. I decided to use Shed #17 for this, as it was disused, out of the way, and no one ever really went in there anymore, and I got all of the parts I needed for my engine from the scrapyard itself. Because steam locomotives were being cut up for scrap here all the time, I was able to scrounge up all the spare parts I could ever want. And thanks to the poor record-keeping at the scrapyard, no one really noticed any of the parts, even large parts such as boiler components, cab pieces, wheels, pistons, and tender parts going missing, save for the select few who had seen me dragging/carrying parts away from scrapped engines, but hadn't followed up on it. And during my breaks while I was working, on some of my days off, and on the nights when I was supposedly working late, I was at the scrapyard, scrounging up more parts for my project, and of course, putting it together. 

"That was the hardest part." I said quietly, using a device that the Detective was holding to translate my thoughts into words, as I was unable to speak at the time. "I was building this massive engine from scratch, by myself, using only hand tools, an arc-welder, a cutting torch, and an old overhead gantry crane inside the shed. And this was where I began to run into trouble. I had some skills for this, but the parts didn't want to fit properly, as they came from different engines with little similarities to what I wanted to build. This is where I had to start cutting pieces apart, and then welding them together with other parts; either to create a longer part, such as I did with the boiler, chassis, and driving rods, or to craft the pieces into a specific shape, such as the case with the cab and tender. 

And even then, it wasn't perfect, as you saw. I knew that this project was going to end up looking a bit wonky, as it was meant to be a prototype, made from so many scrap parts, and despite my being an engineer, my skills could be a bit....lacking at times, especially if I was tired, which happened frequently. But despite these setbacks, and often running out of welding wire, my creation slowly but surely began to take shape, until at last, it was done, at least enough to finally test it." 

"And I'm assuming that this was when things went wrong?" One of the detectives asked. "And how were you able to steal an entire scrap engine without anypony noticing?"

"Yes. And answering your second question first, that engine was where most of the boiler and chassis parts, as well as wheels I needed came from. I was able to move it from the siding it was in using one of the shunting-engines, and quickly moved it to Shed #17 when no one was looking, before putting the shunting-engine back where I found it, and quickly cutting up the scrap-engine to get what I needed from it. This was a huge boon to my work, but this was also around the same time that I realized that I was going to have to cut up the boiler and chassis, and add in parts from other engines in order to make them longer. There's a reason I called this the 'Chop n' Weld Era' of the construction process.

And to answer your second question, I was in the process of test-firing the locomotive for the first time, and at first, everything seemed to be going well; the fire was burning brightly, the boiler was holding steam pressure just fine, and the gauges in the cab began to move. I was so excited.....and then I heard something start hissing, and before I could figure out what it was, the glass tube water gauge suddenly burst, spraying me with boiling water, and scalding steam. I screamed out in agony, reached around blindly in the cab, and ripped off my goggles, before climbing down, and stumbling outside of the shed, still screaming, and I think you know the rest."

"Ok, but why did the engine start moving on its own? And how was it able to whistle?" 

"I must have accidentally released the brakes, because soon after I left the shed, the engine rolled out, and the world feasted its eyes upon my creation.....and some rude idiot started screaming. I mean yes, the engine looks like a Frankenstein, but it's a steam locomotive, not a living, breathing creature. The rest is kind of a blur, and I don't know about the whistle. Maybe the cord snagged on something, or I didn't hook it up properly." 

I eventually learned that my scrap-engine had been rolled onto a siding, pending further investigation, and in addition to my severe burns, I was also potentially facing charges of theft, trespassing, and misuse of company resources, not to mention my likely termination from the scrapyard. I sighed. I'd only wanted to help, but in the end, I only made things worse for myself. 





While I was in the hospital, I kept wondering if Applejack was going to visit me. He did, but he often just stood near my bed, staring at me coldly. I could see the pain in his eyes, but I couldn't tell if the pain was from what he was feeling, of if he was pained for me. I didn't know, because he never said anything; he just looked at me.

"S-say....something. Please." I finally croaked out, still in severe pain over my most recent neck surgery. 

"What's there to say, Ash? You lied to me. You lied, to the Element of Honesty." 

"L-lied......by omission. Lied.....about work. I.....was...faithful to you. I just.....w-wanted.....to....s-save mainline.....steam from....." I couldn't finish, as the pain was too great. 

The left side of my face, neck, and my entire left arm and hand were covered in bandages, as was part of my chest, and my outlook didn't look good. I had many more painful surgeries ahead, and when it was all said and done, I wouldn't be able to use my left hand for much anymore, my left arm would be very stiff, my face and neck would have a number of horrible burn scars, and my breathing would forever be a bit raspy in my left lung. 

Applejack looked at me. "What....did you do to that engine, Ash? How was it able to whistle on its own like that? And why was it screamin'?" 

"S-scream...ing?" I asked weakly. My memory of what happened after I was burned was still blurry, aside from telling Applejack to stay away from the engine, because of that burst water gauge, hearing it whistle, and asking what I had done. "I...d-don't know." 

"Stop lyin' to me, Ash!" Applejack almost yelled in frustration. 

I looked him dead in the eyes. "I....swear on my....Grandma's grave....that...I'm not....lying, AJ. I built...the engine....out of scrap, nothing......more. I used.....no Magic.......no tricks.....n-nothing. Nothing but.....my own two hands......some tools.......and my arc-welder. All.....from spare parts. I did nothing else!" I forced myself to say, in spite of the excruciating pain from doing so. 

Applejack could see that I was telling him the truth. He'd been talking with his friends, and while they were divided on this topic, they agreed on a few things. While I was guilty of lying, and taking parts I shouldn't have, it wasn't technically stealing, since the parts never left the scrapyard, and like what others had said, what I had done was build a steam locomotive. Yes, it looked like a Frankenstein because of how I had to build it, but that's all it was; a machine. It wasn't a living, breathing creature I had cut up, and sewn back together. The only one who got hurt physically was myself, and I hadn't been cheating on Applejack, just building my steam locomotive in secret to try and solve a problem that the Equestrian Railroad had, using methods that weren't quite above-board. So I was guilty of a few things, but nothing too serious, though the circumstances surrounding it were why the Mane 6 were so divided. 

Some thought that I should be punished for breaking the rules/laws, while others thought that my injuries were punishment enough. And they were also divided on the scrap-engine itself. While they agreed that it was a steam locomotive, they were divided on what it really was. Some, including Applejack thought that there was something deeper going on, based on the fact that it whistled by itself, and that while it was cooling down, the engine was screaming. 

"Steam engines don't scream, Girls, and this one was. It sounded like it was screamin' in pain!" 

"Are you sure it wasn't just a burst steam pipe, or something along those lines, Applejack?" Twilight asked, trying to be rational. "Remember, Ashton built this locomotive from scrap parts, so there is a chance that some of his welding seams were faulty." 

"I would agree with ya, Twilight, but the screams weren't constant. If it was somethin' leaking, then it would be constant 'til the engine was cooled down, but they weren't. There were pauses, almost like it was takin' a breath before screamin' again. And I swear that in between its screams, I could hear the engine mutterin'. I couldn't quite make out the words, but I swear it was mutterin'." 

"But are you sure it was coming from the engine, and not somepony else nearby?" Rainbow Dash asked. "Plus, you were hysterical over Ash being burned, so maybe you imagined it?" 

Applejack wasn't sure what to say. "I know what I heard, Girls. Ash was moanin' in pain, and mutterin', but the mutterin' I was referrin' to was different; more high-pitched, almost whispery. Maybe it was in my head, but I don't think it was." 

He and the Girls continued to talk about it, and they still couldn't agree on it fully. Back in the present moment, Applejack was still with me in my hospital room, looking at me. Just like how he and the rest of the Mane 6 were town about the scrap-engine, he too was torn with what to do about me. Yes, I had been lying to him about what I was doing, but that was it. I was still faithful to him, and still working at the scrapyard like I said I was. So I was guilty of lying, and taking parts, but that was about it. 

"So, do you Girls think I should forgive him?" Applejack asked them during their previous discussion. 

"That's entirely up to you, AJ." Twilight. "You're the Element of Honesty, so it's your decision."

"I think you should." Fluttershy told him. 

Pinkie agreed, and then Applejack went home to think about it all.





Meanwhile, back out at the scrapyard, detectives were looking around the yard for the scrap-engine, but they couldn't find it anywhere. They went back to the siding where the engine had been shunted, only to find it gone. 

"Where did it go?" They asked the various people and Ponies in charge of driving the shunting-engines used to move the heavy locomotives and rolling stock around the scrapyard, and over to the Cutting Floor. 

All of them either shook their heads, or shrugged. None of them seemingly had any idea, and they all swore that they hadn't moved it, as the Scrapyard Foreman had given them very strict instructions that it wasn't to be touched, as it was part of an active investigation. 

"Well it was placed on a dead-end siding, ending in a set of buffers, with the points set against it, so it obviously didn't just roll off by itself! Somepony must have moved it!" 

The shunter-drivers, and a few other scrapyard workers all shared glances. All of them felt that there was something wrong with the engine, and a few of them had seen it move on its own, at least a little bit. These incidents, coupled with the publicity the scrapyard was getting was why the engine was taken away to be quickly and quietly scrapped. However, none of them said anything, out of fear of getting in trouble for tampering with the police investigation. 





Over the coming weeks, I'd undergone still more surgeries. I was able to speak more clearly now, and with less pain, but my face, neck, left arm, and chest were still badly scarred, as was my left hand. I was able to move my arm a bit better, but it was still very stiff. I still cursed at myself for not having tested the water gauge better before installing it, not having been able to locate the source of the hissing steam soon, or even getting out of the cab moments before it burst, but what was done was done.

I was also having nightmares. Night after night, I kept having a nightmare where I was back at the scrapyard. It was nighttime, and a low mist covered everything. I was walking among rows of scrap piles, when I would hear a strange creaking-groaning sound, like an old scrap-engine was being moved. Then I would look down one of the transfer-tracks, and I would see it, my patchwork Texas-type locomotive. On the front of its smokebox door was a simple face, crudely painted in white paint, but the face was smiling with a sinister grin. The engine would then whistle eerily, and start moving towards me, all while making frightening noises. It sounded like someone was gasping for air, and mixed in were whispers and mutterings, but I was unable to make them out. I would try to run, but my way would be blocked by mountains of scrap metal, and then the last thing I would hear would be the engine's whistle, before I would wake up in a cold sweat. 

Applejack was also having nightmares, and his too centered around the scrap-engine, but he was reliving me stumbling out of Shed #17 screaming, and covered in burns, and then the engine screaming, and making other horrifying noises as it cooled down. We told each other about our dreams, not quite knowing what to say about them. 

"Ash, when you were building that engine, did anything.....weird happen?" 

I sighed. "Yes, but at the time, I just chalked it up to sleep-deprivation. I'd be working, and I'd swear I heard a voice whispering, but I couldn't make out what it was saying. I thought it was either the wind, my sleep-deprivation, or even just me being paranoid, since I was working on this in secret. This didn't happen all the time though, which was why I dismissed it so easily." 

"But what if....what if it wasn't just your imagination, Ash? What if....by creatin' such an engine, you released somethin' that should have been kept sleepin'?"

I opened my mouth, but closed it again soon after. I knew he was referring to how the scrap-engine was still missing, despite an extensive search, and no one claimed any responsibility for it. Everyone seemed to think I'd either stolen it myself, or hired someone to do it, and I was pretty sure that the scrapyard had scrapped it themselves one night to try and get rid of the publicity that having the engine around was causing. 

"I'm telling you, AJ, they scrapped it just to be rid of it, and blamed me to cover their tracks, since I created it to begin with. But yet, that doesn't explain what my old coworkers have told me." 

"What'd they tell you?" Applejack asked. 

I looked at him, a bit of fear in my eyes. "They told me that during the night, they've heard, or seen (or both), the scrap-engine moving around the scrapyard, creaking, groaning, seemingly gasping for air, and like you said you saw in your nightmare, and seemingly heard the day I tried to fire it up, whispering. However, they said that they thought they could hear it say 'I....am dead'. 'I....*inaudible*.....rest.' And there were more things whispered, but they were completely inaudible. Granted, I'm not sure of the authenticity of any of this, but these are seasoned scrappers, and I don't know why they'd lie about it." 

"Yeah.....that's really weird." Applejack agreed. "I wish that there was a way for us to finally put this to rest, and move on, as the nightmares are gettin' really drainin'." 

I sighed. "In a way, there is, but it involves a bit of risk." 

"And what's that?" 

"Well, my access to the scrapyard was never fully revoked, so I could get us in, and we can both talk to my coworkers, and confront the management about the fate of the engine. If it was scrapped? Then fine, the issue is closed. But if not, then we find it, and finally figure out what's going on." 

Applejack reluctantly agreed, though we would have to wait a few more days until I was discharged from the hospital.





When the time  came, we were at home getting ready. I was still in some pain, but I'd already come to terms with the fact that it would be like this for the rest of my life. I wore part of a mask to hide the burned left side of my face, special bandages over neck and my left arm, and my left hand was covered in a glove. I could move my hand a bit, but my fingers were all but frozen in place from the tendons being severely damaged. Once I was ready, and the sun had gone down, Applejack drove us to the scrapyard. When we arrived, he parked, and we both got out, and approached the gatehouse. 

"Can I help you?" Blue Run asked as we approached. 

"Yes. I need you to let us in." 

"Certainly. But only if you have what it takes to enter. Are you an employee here?"

I sighed. "You know who I am, Blue." 

"Do I?" He then looked closer at me, and his eyes widened when he realized who I was. "Ashton. You're......you're not supposed to be here. Your employment was terminated." 

"Oh really? Then why do I still have my employee ID card?" I then held it up, and swiped it through the slider on the employee door. Sure enough, it blinked green, and the door opened. 

"You can enter, Ashton, but he can't." Blue Run pointed to Applejack. "He was given a ban for trespassing." 

I looked at Applejack, and then back at Blue Run. "What're you talking about? There's no one else here but you and me, Blue." I said as I handed him a few large banknotes. 

He looked at the notes, and then at me. We both knew that this was only going to work because I was an employee here, and had been such a benefit to the Midland Scrapyard while I'd worked here. 

"Well, everything looks ok to me." He said as he took the notes. "You're good to go." 

He then went back into the gatehouse, and Applejack and I entered through the employee door. Once we were inside, I went to the employee locker room, and after opening my locker, I grabbed a pair of coveralls, gloves, and a hard hat, and I handed Applejack a spare set of overalls, and a second hard hat and of gloves, and after he put them on, I grabbed a flashlight, and led the way into the scrapyard. 

Once we were outside, a bit of a mist hung in the air, and we began walking near one of the tracks that led through the scrapyard. 

"Where're we goin', Ash?" Applejack asked.

"We're going to Shed #17 first, just to check it. Then we're going to go see if we can find anyone in the office to talk to about the scrap-engine, and then see if we can find any of the guys I know on the night shift to talk to." 

He agreed, and we first went to Shed #17. When we arrived, yellow Police Tape was still around it, and the doors were locked up tight, but I was able to peer in through a window to confirm that the shed was empty. After this, we headed to the scrapyard's main office. Once we were inside, and I unintentionally gave the office staff a scare with my mask, they were eventually able to calm down enough to let us look through the records of the scrap engines. I wasn't sure what I was looking for, since my scrap-engine had been an anomaly, so I checked the "Miscellaneous" section of the records. 

"Hey, I found it." I then pulled out a file, and began to read it. "'Scrap-Engine No.98462. Experimental unit built by Aston Casey. A Failure from the start, this engine was scrapped on......' Damn, it's all smudged up. I think it says....'10/17(?)/....' but no year is listed, but obviously that would be this year, '.....following a police investigation into the engine's freakish origins'." 

"So according to the records, it was scrapped." 

"Yeah, I guess so. And 'freakish origins'?? That's a pretty unprofessional thing to write in a report." 

After we were done in the office, we then went to go see if we could find anyone I knew from the night shift to talk to.





After talking to a few of the shunter-drivers, and the guys I knew on the Cutting Floor, and the Smelters Shed, I was left baffled by their responses. The shunter-drivers said that the engine was removed from its siding, and shunted over to the Smelters Shed, but due to its massive size, they first had to send it over to the Cutting Floor to be chopped up. They started scrapping the engine, when management told them to stop, as the engine was still part of the police investigation, so it was moved to another siding, and then back to the Cutting Floor later, and then it was moved out again to make room for an incoming scrap-train, and then back to the Smelters Shed, and then it was gone. 

"What do you mean, 'it was gone'?" I asked.

"Just what I said, Man. It was gone. It was the center of the biggest game of 'Hot Potato' I've ever seen, and then it was just gone. I went to go drag it back to the Cutting Floor, and it was just gone. I assumed that they just melted it down to be rid of it. You really caused quite a fuss with your creation, Ash."

I sighed. "Yeah, I know that now." I replied, gesturing to my burns. "And the records in the office show that it was scrapped too, but then there's the stories to contend with." 

"You mean you've heard about what some of the guys have seen?" 

I nodded. "Yeah, or at least, what they've supposedly seen. Is there any truth to it?" 

The shunter-driver nodded. "I've seen it, Ash. It was rolling through the sidings, hissing steam, groaning, and creaking." 

"You mean.....like that?!" Applejack suddenly piped up, pointing at something. 

The shunter-driver and I turned to look at what he was pointing at, and I saw the back of a large tender disappear behind a pile of scrap a few yards away from us. 

"I.....don't know. Let's go see." Applejack and I then ran over towards the scrap pile. 

When we arrived, we looked around, and there were a few scrap-engines sitting nearby, one of which had a tender. 

"Hmm. Is that what you saw, AJ?" I asked, pointing to the engine with the tender. 

"I'm....I'm not sure. It was dark, so it was hard to see." 

I was just about to say something, but I never got the chance to. Just as I was opening my mouth, we both suddenly heard a loud, eerie whistle, as well as the unmistakable sound of a steam engine puffing, but it sounded.....off. This was followed by the hissing of steam, and the creaking and groaning of an old engine in motion.


"That.......doesn't sound normal." I finally managed to say. But before I could say anything else, those sounds were followed by a large, dark shape looming in the dim lighting in that part of the scrapyard further down the tracks. I shined my flashlight towards the shape, but it was too far away. It wouldn't be for long though. 

The large black shape, which I was soon able to tell was an engine, began slowly, loudly, puffing towards where Applejack and I were standing. I could hear steam hissing from the engine, but I couldn't see any coming out, and nor was there any smoke coming from the engine's funnel. As it got closer, I saw that the engine was a mixture of black and gray, and when I saw its wheel arrangement, I knew immediately that it was my scrap-engine. I was happy at first, joyful even, that my creation, that I had labored so long to create was seemingly still in existence, despite claims to the contrary, but my joy was not to last. 

As it drew closer still, and I was about to start walking towards it, the engine suddenly loud out a loud, pained scream, followed by sounds of something gasping desperately for air in a strained, pained manner. On the front of the engine's smokebox door, I saw that the engine's headlamp was missing, and in its place were 2 large black masses that looked like eyes, and a 3rd black mass that looked like a mouth, but it was in an open gasp of pain and suffering. The engine continued to scream, gasp, and cry out in pain as it puffed closer, and then the whispering began. 

"I....am....dead." 

"My rest.....disturbed." 

"I want to.....die....." 

"Why......why am I....here?" 

"Please......kill me." 

"I want to.......rest." 

"I am......*painful gasping for air*" 

What made this even more terrifying was that each whisper was a different and distinct voice. Applejack and I were frozen to the spot, our faces dead white from sheer terror at what we were witnessing. When the engine puffed by Applejack and I, I clearly saw its dozens, if not hundreds of welding joints, and I also saw no fire burning in its firebox, nor any coal in its tender, and for the briefest of moments, I saw the burst water gauge in the cab. It was clear by now that what I was seeing wasn't the engine I created, but something far worse; this was something supernatural. I had disturbed something when I'd taken all of those scrap parts to create this engine, or rather, multiple somethings, and now they were all trapped inside of this.....this....amalgamation of parts that I called my "Midland Experiment". Or had they always been there? And were they still trapped even after the engine had been scrapped? Once the engine was past us, we saw its red tail-lamp on its tender glowing brightly as it disappeared around a bend, and into the darkness.

".....My god. What.....what have I done?" The full weight of what my actions had caused hit me squarely in the face, as did the realization that I was the cause of....whatever those things were, suffering. They were roaming the scrapyard, crying out for their end to come so that they could find peace, but now I had disturbed that. I'd made them a part of my scrap-engine, and now this was the result. 

Applejack was unable to say anything at all. He was holding me tightly, still frozen in fear. 

I then began to scream. I screamed out in terror, out of the guilt of what I had done, and I screamed for the pain of my creation. I was the cause of their suffering, and could do nothing to alleviate it. I knew that I was going to suffer because of what I had done, and I was right. 

Eventually, the scrapyard workers found us, and we were given medical attention, but after that night, neither Applejack nor I were ever the same again. Applejack was forever haunted by the memories of me being burned, the scrap engine rolling out of the shed, the screams and whispers he heard from it, and of the night he saw it again. These memories plagued him, both in his dreams, and in the waking world, and he sank into a deep depression, and started drinking heavily. 

And as for me? I in addition to my horrible scars, I was plagued by nightmares; nightmares of my scrap-engine, and whatever was trapped inside of it. Almost every night I had nightmares about it, and the night Applejack and I saw it, and I too sank into a pained depression. One night though, some years later, I suddenly disappeared. No one knew where I went, and an investigation was opened, but I was never seen again. A short time later, Applejack was found comatose at home, having nearly drank himself to death over my disappearance. He would eventually recover physically, and some hoped that both of us were finally able to find peace in the aftermath of the horrors we experienced, but others weren't so sure. 

Sometimes in the night, Applebloom, Big Mac, and even Granny Smith would hear the sounds of quiet sobbing coming from the orchards at Sweet Apple Acres, and other times, they heard the sounds of a stallion crying out in the night, begging for someone to come back to them, and asking them where they were. The Apple Family knew this to be the restless, mentally-broken Applejack, desperately looking for Ash, as he was unable to cope with living without his Beloved. And where was Ash? Some workers on the night shift at the scrapyard had an answer for that. 

Many times during the night, they heard the sound of someone running through the scrapyard, breathing heavily, and occasionally crying out in frustration, seemingly lost among the piles of scrap, and lines of scrap-engines and rolling stock. And occasionally, some would even report seeing a dark figure darting through the scrapyard, but they would always disappear into the night, seemingly unaware of their presence. These movements of this figure were accompanied by the continued presence of the "Midlands Experiment", which continued to be spotted moving around the yards, puffing, whistling, screaming, gasping for air, whispering, and now even growling. It seemed to be hunting for something, or someone. Many of the workers believed that the scrap-engine was hunting for Ash, as he was the one responsible for disturbing the rest of whatever supernatural entities now controlled the train. Which if true, meant that Ash was doomed to forever run through the scrapyard, never able to find his way out, and always on the run from his frightening creation.

It was so cruel, but yet, it was retribution for disturbing something that should have been left alone, and Applejack had the unfortunate mischance of being caught in the crossfire. But, was Ash really dead, or was he in some kind of hellish limbo? No one knew, and none were brave enough to try and find out, out of fear of the "Midlands Experiment". 



THE END?