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

King Slumplort III, the ruler of Great Brittleton, was sitting on his throne in his palace, enjoying some refreshments brought from the royal butchers. He was sick and tired of the colonial battle he and his country were fighting in, the colonies could all die as far as he cared. If they wouldn't listen to his reasoning, why should he listen to theirs? In the middle of his thoughts, a pegasus pony burst into the palace, racing towards him and panting furiously. He stopped at the foot of Slumplort's throne and bowed.
"What do you want?" Slumplort grunted, "I did not summon you."
"Your Majesty," the pony said, "the message has been delivered and will reach the Colonies by midnight tomorrow."
"Very good," Slumplort praised carelessly, going back to his food, "You are a speedy messenger, are you not?"
"Fastest alive, sire, " the pegasus said proudly.
"Then why will it take all day and night?" Slumplort demanded angrily.
"But- I- there's," the pegasus stammered, "A storm is- is coming rather unexpectedly, Your Majesty."
"And you expect me to do something about it?" Slumplort had gotten off his throne and was marching directly to the pegasus, who cowered down, terrified, "You are a pegasus! You can out maneuver anything! You could even stop the storm from happening! Just move the clouds out of the way, you foal!"
"But sire," the pegasus squeaked, "That would take even longer!"
"Are you going against orders?" Slumplort bellowed.
"No, sire!"
"Are you planning a mutiny!?"
"No, I assure you, sire!"
"Necromancer!" Slumplort called down the palace hall.
"No!" The pegasus cried, "I'm sorry, Your Majesty, I'm sorry!"
"Necromancer!" Slumplort continued to call, "Necromancer, I summon you!"
All the lights in the hall went out one by one, except one, which turned a green color. Everything was still and quiet. Then, the green flame stretched out and floated toward the pegasus, who tried to back away, but merely ran into Slumplort's legs. The green flame shot forward and went up the pegasus's nose, in his ears, and down his throat. He screamed a horrible, squelching shriek that echoed throughout the room, and the pegasus fell to the floor, motionless.
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"Coming in on 1776.5!" The Doctor said as he worked on the landing the TARDIS, "We're going to be in the date of July 4th, the day the Declaration of Independence was signed. As your last trip, Ditzy, I wanted to give you a special date in which to land in."
"Doctor, this'll be fantastic!" Ditzy exclaimed excitedly, "A good farewell present! Exactly what I wanted! I can't wait to see President Scription!"
"President Scription?" Asked the Doctor, who was very interested in the ponies version of the past, "Which president was that?"
"Well," Ditzy began, "President Scription was the second president of Equestia, but he wasn't entirely in rule, due to the fact that Princess Celestia was still ruler. He just took orders from her directly and carried the message to the rest of Equestria, whether it was an attack preparation, or a special announcement. And now I get to meet him in person!"
"It sounds as though you are saying," said the Doctor, "that this is the pony version of Thomas Jefferson."
"Who?" Ditzy asked.
"Thomas Jefferson wasn't president in 1776," explained the Doctor, "In fact, there weren't any presidents back then. Or now, to be precise. And he was the second president of the United States, after George Washington, who was the first."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Ditzy said, shaking her head, "But we have an entirely new time zone outside the TARDIS door! I say we go outside and explore."
"Hey!" The Doctor laughed as Ditzy opened the door, "That rhymed! I've alway tried to make a rhyme, but I'm always busy at the time... Oh! There's one!"
"Come on, Doctor!" Ditzy laughed as she ran out the door, but she almost immediately ran back in. "Nevermind." She said as she closed the door, looking terrified. "I think 1812 would be much better, now that I think about it."
"What are you talking about?" The Doctor asked as he trotted out the door, "What could possibly-?"
He stopped in mid-sentence as he gazed in sudden shock at his surrounding. They had certainly landed in the right year, but something was happening that didn't last time. The sky had deep red colored clouds covering it, and smoke was rising from one of the dozens of cottages surrounding the town they had landed within. Red coats and rebels alike were taking offensive position behind a barricade that isolated a bridge from the town, and they were firing their guns not at each other, but at one opponent, who seemed to be crawling toward them. About twelve dozen others were headed in the same direction, all crawling, and all being shot at.
"What in the name of time and space is going on here?" The Doctor said, aghast at the peculiar sight, "The reds and blues fighting side-by-side?"
"Are those...?" Ditzy stammered, looking at the crawling soldiers, "Are those zombie ponies?"
"Oh yes," the Doctor said, drawing his attention from the living to the dead, "Well, they probably are, but that's not the strange sight here."
"What?" Ditzy gasped, "Undead ponies coming back from the great beyond isn't a surprise to you?"
"All in the life of a Timelord," the Doctor winked, clicking his tongue, "Allons-y!"
"wait- DOCTOR!" Ditzy shouted as he raced into the on coming battle, heading directly toward the barricade.
"Oi!" Called an northern voice, "We got a live one!"
"Cease fire!" Called another voice as the Doctor ran to the front of the barricade, jumping over an undead red coat as he did so, "Let me see your skin!"
"Not infected!" The Doctor shouted as he held out each hoof, "Not infected! They haven't bit me, if that's how this works!"
"He's clean! Open the gate!"
A door opened just directly in front of the Doctor, and red coated ponies were ushering him in, but he was staring at how the gate had been in front of his face the entire time, and he never even noticed.
"That's oddly convenient," he said at last, and he ran inside, just as the red coats were shutting the gates.
"What the hay were you doing out there?" A rebel with a grey braided mane asked, "Were you trying to negotiate with those brainless things?"
"Actually, I was trying to run away from them," the Doctor said in an obvious tone, "My name is John Smith, by the way, I'm the director of the... um... Body Search and Rescue Squad, or the B.S.R.S., for short." He flashed the rebel his physic paper, and the rebel took it in his hoofs and stared at it for a while.
"What sort of name is John Smith?" He asked after about a minute, handing the Doctor his paper back, "Where are you from?"
"What sort of name is... ohhh," the Doctor said, suddenly remembering he was a pony now, "That's right, that's not gonna work here. My name is... er... Old Timer. I'm from Fillydelphia."
"So who's John Smith?" The rebel continued.
"Well," the Doctor said, "Forgive me for answering a question with a question, but who's asking?"
"Detective Tracer, P.V.P.D.," he answered showing him his badge, "And I can't say I've ever seen your face around there. Where've you been?"
"Out for my health," the Doctor improved, "Fresh air, and, well, a bit of vacation suited for these times. They have police departments in this year? That isn't right, the Bill of Rights wasn't written until 1791."
"Ramble all you like," Tracer said carelessly, "You're not off the hook, but I'm keeping an eye on you, buster."
"Please," the Doctor said, taking the hoof of the detective and shaking it firmly, "Call me the Doctor. Say, have you seen a grey pony around here? Lazy eyes? Bubble-"
A crash sounded a few feet away from them, and a cannon ball rolled between the Doctor and the detective. An "Ouch!" was heard not too long later.
"Never mind," said the Doctor, and he turned and trotted toward a grey pony, who was laying on the ground and had just knocked over a barrel of gun powder on her landing.
"Doing alright, Ditzy?" The Doctor asked as he helped the dizzy Ditzy Doo up from the ground.
"You deserted me!" Ditzy exclaimed angrily, "I can't fight zombies on my own, you know!"
"Yes, yes, I shouldn't have ran off so quickly," the Doctor admitted hurriedly, "But there's an even bigger issue going on. I just spoke with a detective, Ditzy. A detective, in the year 1776. Something's not right here."
A large explosion sounded, and the Doctor, caught unawares, stumbled to the ground covering his ears in pain. Ditzy was next to him, mimicking his movements as she rolled on the ground in agony. When the pain lessened, the Doctor looked up to see that the soldiers had rolled out cannons to defend against the enemy.
"You're supposed to shout when you fire a cannon, you twits!" The voice of Tracer shouted, "I can't afford new ears, you know!"
The Doctor crawled to Ditzy, who was still covering her ears. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her mouth sagging open in silent pain. He covered her body with his own, shielding her from the cannons as another went off unexpectedly. The Doctor's ear drums were popping out of his head, and he knew he had to get them out of there. He picked up Ditzy in his arms and stumbled out of the bunker, leaving the sound of the cannons and the zombie's groans far away from them. When the noise became distant, he collapsed to the ground once again, and let his body fade away from consciousness.
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"I think he's awakening!"
"He's moving, all right."
"Go and get the other patient."
Several frantic voices were speaking very urgently, as if someone was late for an important occasion. The Doctor stirred as he regained consciousness, and groaned as a bright light burned through his eyes. He shielded them with his hoof, and he realized he was in a bed in an old cottage. He was placed by a window, and through it he could see that the sky had not changed since his fall. But something did change about the structure. It was no longer burning, there were no zombies, and most peculiar of all, no soldiers were anywhere to be seen.
A door opened, and the Doctor looked to see a very young filly enter the room. She couldn't have been more than eight. She walked over to a chair next to the bed and sat down, but did nothing other than stare at him. He looked back at her purple eyes without blinking, and nothing moved until the door opened a second time.
"Driva," a old pony scolded, "Leave the stallion alone."
"Oh, don't worry," the Doctor waved his hoof, still not taking his eyes not the filly, "the stallion doesn't mind."
The little filly and the Doctor continued to stare at each other as if their eyes were glued. Still not taking his eyes of the filly, the Doctor rose from his bed and slowly approached her. He waved his hoof between them, but she did not blink.
"Such concentration," the Doctor said, very interested in this little wonder gazing at him, "She doesn't seem to need to blink as much as others do, I haven't noticed her blink once. What's her name?" He asked the mare in the doorway.
"Driva," she answered, "Driva Ford. I would've suggested to not look into her eyes, because once you've started-"
"You can't look away," the Doctor finished her sentence, "I've known for about three minutes now. Don't worry, though, there's a way out."
The Doctor started making funny noises with his mouth. He stuck his tongue out and made an obscene noise, and the filly began to grin. He put his hoofs on his cheeks and moved them simultaneously and made a high pitched groaning sound. The filly began to giggle. Finally, he flared his nostrils and puffed his cheeks, and the filly burst into childish laughter, finally breaking eye contact and falling to the floor, her hoofs on her sides.
"Easy peasy, such a breezy," the Doctor said happily, now able to look around the room freely again. He got up and made his way to the mare at the door, whose eyes were darting from the filly, to the Doctor, and then the filly again.
"How did... no pony..." she was stammering, trying to make out the event that had just took place, "Sir, explain yourself."
"Explain myself?" The Doctor repeated, stopping just in front of her, "Well, I enjoy long walks on the beach, I hate pears, I'm a enlarging genius-"
"I mean how did you break eye contact with Driva?" The mare asked.
"Simple," the Doctor began, "Doctors, like myself, always say that laughter is the best medicine. In this case, the laughter of a small female pony, or a filly, stopped the process in which we exchanged visual sightings."
"Then why-"
"Now, now," the Doctor interrupted, "We all have questions, but I have a more urgent one. Could you refresh my memory and tell me where I am?"
"You're in my house," she answered quickly, "We found you and your friend out in the field outside town. What were you doing out there? Don't you know about the zombies?"
"Ditzy's here?" The Doctor asked, ignoring her questions and squeezing himself through the door into a large room, "Marvelous!"
As soon as the Doctor entered the new room, he was immediately reminded of "Bigger on the Inside". The room looked as though it belonged inside a cathedral instead of a small house, and yet there was still hardly any room to move around. Beds and couches were scattered throughout the entire premises, each filled with a different pony, Pegasi, Unicorns and Earth ponies alike.
"You call this a small room?" The Doctor asked incredulously, "Looks like there's enough room in here to swing a hundred cats!"
"Well, maybe it was a bit of an understatement," she said uncertainly, "But how did you know what to do about my daughter?"
"Your daughter?" The Doctor asked. He sighed, and a sad look spread over his face. "Your daughter has been subjected to a disease known as the Insertion Disease. It's caused by eye-contact with an individual who looks as though they've died years ago. Somepony whose flesh rots as if they've been decomposing for months. Do you know what I'm talking about?"
"The zombies?" She gasped.
"The zombies," the Doctor repeated, "She, your daughter, has at some point looked into the eyes of an Inserted. When did this happen?"
"Just a few hours ago," she answered, looking as though she'd burst into tears any second, "when we found you and your friend. About a dozen of them were closing in around you, so we shot them down. I think one might've still been alive, though, because Driva looked into it's open eyes and hasn't said a word sense. Oh, God, I'm so worried now!"
She had given up on holding back her tears, and she was fully crying now.
"She will get better," the Doctor reassured her as she wept, "She's only had it for a few hours, it takes 24 hours to take full effect."
"I-Is there a- a cure?" She asked through her tears.
"Not here there isn't," he answered sadly, "But Brittleton was known for having extreme remedies. I don't doubt for less than a minute they'd have something."
She continued to sob, and it was a good five minutes before she could talk again, which the Doctor used to search for Ditzy in the crowd of sleepers.
"I don't see her anywhere," he said aloud, "Where is she? I thought you said she was here?"
"She is," the mare answered, her voice heavy, but the tears had ceased, "She's in a special room. You were both in a right state when we brought you in."
"Now she tells me," the Doctor muttered to himself angrily, "What room is she in?"
The mare pointed to a door on the other side of the room, past at least ninety sleepers.
"Right, it's never easy, is it?"
"Just don't try to wake any of them."
"And one more question," the Doctor said, "I heard voices when I was awakening, one of them saying, 'Go wake the other patient'. But Ditzy isn't up! Who were they talking about?"
"That was my brother," she answered, her voice starting to return to its' normal, motherly voice, "He went to go find your friend."
"My friend is Ditzy Doo," the Doctor said seriously, "Her nickname is Derpy Hooves, she's extremely clumsy, she's really sweet, her eyes cross, and she's grey with a bubble cutie mark. Where is she?"
"We didn't find anyone like that with you. We only found a male pony with a blue coat a few inches away from you. He looked like-"
"A blue rebel with a grey braided mane," the Doctor finished her sentence. Everything made sense now, and as he talked, a door at the end of a hall opened up, and out clopped Detective Tracer, the pony who had interviewed him from earlier. He was no longer wearing his rebel outfit, but a grey tuxedo with a red tie.
"You!" Tracer shouted, stomping threw the hall and disregarding the sleeping ponies, "You ran from me! I wasn't done with you!"
The Doctor only stared at him for a few seconds, then turned to face the mare, speaking in a very surprised tone. "You thought he was a girl?"
"I'll be asking the questions this time!" Tracer yelled roughly, "And one of them would be about these clothes, considering I didn't put them on me, but I don't think you would know that. But nonetheless, why did you run? Do you have something to hide?
"I had to find my friend," the Doctor answered, his voice leveled as Tracer reached him, glaring him in the eye.
" 'You had to find your friend'! Tracer mocked, "Right, and did you?"
"As a matter of fact, yes, I did."
"Really, now?"
"Yes."
"Then where is this friend?"
"I don't know."
Tracer continued to glare at him, and then he turned and marched down the hall a few paces; the Doctor noticed that some of the ponies had awaken and were watching the fireworks.
"So you don't know?" Tracer asked, "But you found her?"
"That's right," the Doctor said, turning around and walking out the front door, "And now I need to find her again."
He never thanked the mare for housing him as he regained his strength, or for the fact that she saved his life. he never found out her name, either. He just gathered his belongings and headed out the front door with the impossible Detective Tracer rammering questions in his ear every second he could, some of them he repeated.
"Why do you keep running? Do you have something to hide? Whose house was I just in? WHO THE HAY ARE YOU!?"
Eventually, after half an hour of walking, the Doctor finally cracked under the stress and grabbed Tracer by the collar of his suit and pulled him closer to his face.
"I'm the Doctor," he said angrily through gritted teeth, "I'm a Timelord. I'm of an alien species from the planet Gallifrey in the Constellation of Kasterborous, and I'm not the man who will be healing you when someone finally bucks you in the chin."
He let the shocked detective go and continued walking. Tracer was so shocked it took him a while to realize the Doctor had released him, and he trotted back up to keep up with him.
"Care to tell me where we're going?"
A threatening glare from the Doctor told him to shut up, which he did.
Hours passed as they continued to walk, and the Doctor began to wonder if they were going the right way. It should've opened by now...
"I've answered plenty of questions for you, 'Detective'," the Doctor finally said, "Now it's your turn to answer some of mine: Where are you from, what year were you born, and where did you get those clothes?"
"I suppose it's only fair," Tracer agreed, "I was born in Brittleton, raised in Brittleton, lived in Equestria. That's where I developed my Equestrian accent, but I never truly got rid of the Brittlish side of it. Every now and then I still say "Con't" instead of "Can't", and, oh, how I've been bullied because of that."
"I don't believe you," the Doctor said, which surprised Tracer immensely.
"Why not? That's my life, at least what I can remember of it."
"Where did you get that suit?"
Tracer's surprise changed to confusion, "Is it important?"
The Doctor shrugged, "Meh, I suppose not. What year were you born in?"
"1758."
"Of course, of course. I like your hat, by the way."
"Doctor, what are you playing at?"
The Doctor stopped and looked at Tracer, a very reluctant look on his face, as if there was something he needed to say but didn't want to say it. He up a hoof on Tracer's shoulder, and said seriously, "You're not from this time period, detective. The fact that you ARE a detective gives it away completely, the police themselves weren't around until 1830."
Tracer stared at the Doctor, surveying his eyes, looking for some sign that said that this was a joke. But the Doctor would have to be a very good actor if he wasn't telling the truth.
"How do you know this?"
"I told you, I'm a Timelord."
"You're an alien that travels in time?"
"Yes," the Doctor said, "And I'm afraid there's more than one of me if you were able to get outside of your timezone."
The Doctor released Tracer, but immediately found this to be a mistake as the detective toppled over face-first into the ground. He had fainted.