> PoniU
>  by AlphaParticles
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> The Rabbit Hole
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	In the city of Canterlot, everything was dark.
A murder of crows flapped their wings and took to the sky as a lone earth pony trotted through the deserted and ruined streets. He was practically invisible in the jet-black shadows of night, thanks to his dark-gray mane and tail. His cutie mark, that of a shovel, was barely visible on his light-gray coat. His hair was cut short, with his tail almost down to a stump to avoid somepony - or something - grabbing hold of it.
The earth pony silently turned the corner into a dark alley. His black eyes glinted in the moonlight as he turned to face a pile of assorted detritus. He cantered over to the garbage, rifling through it with his front hooves. He found nothing useful. As the stallion turned to leave, his back hoof knocked over a tin can, which clattered loudly into the street. He winced at the sound, hoping to Celestia that none had heard. Unfortunately, the monsters had good hearing. They began to shuffle from down the street, moaning and gargling.
The zomponies had found him.
Thinking quickly, he darted out of the alley and looked for an opening in the rapidly-increasing crowd of undead approaching him. He saw a path down the road devoid of the trotters and galloped in that direction. Some of the zomponies quickened their pace, cantering rather lopsidedly after him, but he was faster and better coordinated. It was just a matter of not getting cornered, no matter what. The earth pony made a left, passing by several abandoned storefronts in his search for higher ground.
A zompony lunged at him from behind a wall, rotting and bloody teeth bared for the kill. He ducked under it, narrowly avoiding a lethal bite. He kicked at the creature with his hind legs, knocking it over; before it could get back up, he charged off and turned the corner. To his dismay, he was greeted by a dead end. All that was in front of him was an old building. But something about it was off. Or rather, on. There were lights shining brightly inside the building! He rushed over, pounding on the heavy wooden door. Please let there be somebody there...
The door became surrounded in a corona of purple magical energy and swung open by itself. All of a sudden, he heard a voice. "Get inside the safehouse. And shut the door behind you!" It was the voice of an older mare, one that sounded experienced with this sort of situation. Obeying the voice, he ran inside, closing the door as he did so.
The inside of the building wasn't much prettier than the outside. There were yellowing papers spilled all over the floor, as well as knocked-over tables barricading the hallway in front of him. Eager to put the biters behind him, he vaulted over the barricade and headed down the hallway. "That's it," the voice told him. "Keep going. Whatever you do, don't stop moving until I say so. It still isn't safe."
Eventually, the stallion came to a rusty metal door. He opened it. Within was an old and rather rusty laundry chute. He tried to catch a glimpse below, but it was too dark. "It's all right," the mare's voice eased. "Just slide down. My bunker's down there." Still, he couldn't help but wonder if he was going crazy. Was his subconscious trying to make him kick the bucket? He hoped not.
A sharp, undead growl far behind him made him flinch, and he lost his balance. He tumbled down the chute haphazardly, hitting his head on the metal siding on the way down. He felt dizzy and disoriented as he fell down the small vent, which seemed to go on forever. Then, without warning, the chute spat him out several dozen feet underground. He slid on the concrete floor below him, his head pounding from the impact. His vision darkened, and he abruptly lost consciousness.

"Psst! Wake up!" The voice was there again. The stallion groaned and clambered to his hooves, surveying the room he had landed in. It was about the size of a bathroom, made from floor to ceiling out of concrete. A door lay shut in front of him. A strange reflective orb was affixed to the top corner of one of the walls. There were some scattered posters on the floor as well. A rather torn one had a picture of the Wonderbolts in uniform and read, "See them in action at Canterlot's Mane Square!" The date had long-since faded away.
"Thank goodness you're okay," the voice said. "For a minute, I thought I'd lost another one. Can you walk?"
How did this pony know what was happening to him if she couldn't see him, anyway? Was he being spied on? Or was it some sort of unicorn magic? He nodded in response to her question, testing if she could see it.
"Good. Head through that door. The safehouse is right through there."
The stallion opened the door quietly, listening for the sound of zomponies, but heard none. He walked through, closing the door behind him. This next room was vast, and appeared to have a railroad. What kind of city had a railroad this far underneath it? It was almost like a subterranean way to travel. Not that the trains were running anymore, though. He scoped out the rest of the room and discovered that there were other paths, albeit gated off. Everything was awfully quiet.
One of the doors in the subway had a light shining under the cracks. That must be where the mare wanted him to go, he assumed. He cantered over, swinging the door open and looking inside. He was amazed to see some of the most advanced magic technology in Equestria hooked up in the room. Arcane-circuit television (or ACTV) input was overlaid on a collection of glass boxes, basically creating half a dozen separate screens to view. They all showed displays of the inside of the safehouse, including the room  he'd found himself in after falling down the chute.
The earth pony remembered the mirror-like orb in that room. Perhaps that acted as the eye, magically relaying an image back! But how can anyone keep such an advanced system powered for so long?
"What do you think of the setup?" the voice asked again, making him focus again. "This is where you can sleep. There's a haystack on the other end of the room that's pretty comfortable. But you have to help me out with something in exchange: You saw those ACTV orbs I linked to? The ones you're viewing on the screen?"
He nodded.
"There's more of them, all over Canterlot. If you can find three more of them for me, then you can stay here for a while longer. Deal?"
He nodded again.
"Great. On the table behind you is a cricket bat and an invention of mine. Take them. They'll help you out." He looked at the table. Indeed, there was a cricket bat, for some reason. The other object was an apple-shaped arcane tablet, blue screen glowing softly in the badly-lit bunker. He was wondering how to pick up the device when it levitated to his side. "That's the Ponypad," the voice commented. "You can use it for almost anything; managing your saddlebags, blacklight, or magical hacking. It will even follow you around, so you don't have to worry about carrying it. You're going to need that if you want to survive long here."
He looked at the device. Pretty high-tech. She must have been pretty prepared for this if she could build an entire survival pad. He wondered for the umpteenth time who this mysterious mare was.
"One last thing. On the other side of the bunker is a zompony with a buck-out bag. She was the last pony who left without taking the Ponypad. You need to get the bag from her. It's got medical supplies and a pistol in it. Follow the map on your Ponypad there."
The stallion took the cricket bat in his teeth, looking down at the pad to make sure he was going in the right direction. He headed through a door, turned left and trotted for a distance, always glancing up to avoid a deadly surprise. He neared the waypoint, which was right through the next door. He swung the door open, bat at the ready.
A blue unicorn mare, horribly pale and rotting, was stuck between the counter of the ticket stand and the window, as if somepony had slammed it down on her torso. The buck-out bag, still intact, was slung over her shoulder. The monster made a few half-hearted attempts to bat her hoof at him, but it was pretty much harmless.
"Don't hesitate. It's kill or be killed," the voice said. With that, he brought the cricket bat down on the zompony's head. There was a loud crack, and the creature lay still. The stallion grabbed the bag and put it on his back, searching through the contents. First aid kit, a small mouth-grip pistol and a dozen bullets. He took the gun and loaded the magazine in.
"That's it," the mare said. "Preparation is key. Better to have it loaded now than worry about it when you're surrounded by a horde. By the way, you can call me the Scholar. I don't think I caught your name. Who are you?"
The earth pony hesitated, then finally spoke. "Call me Grave Digger."