Article 1: Dead Mare Walking

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

Article 2: A Grave Injustice

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“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.

Article 3: An Unlikely Hero

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I don’t know how long I was out, but when I woke up I was staring at a pair of dark blue hooves. They weren’t that of a dark blue coat. They were painted metal from a very familiar suit of power armor.

“Well, lookie who we have here.” a disguised, robotic voice said down to me.

“Mysterious Mare-do-well?” I asked groggily.

“Jibwee Jot, such fun.” Mare-do-well stated, “Long time no chat. What brings you out here?”

I pushed myself to my hooves. My muscles had annoyingly gone stiff again, so it wasn't easy. I wonder if ghouls have to deal with the same thing when they wake up? I turned to regard the strange mare. Ok I wasn’t sure of Mare-do-well’s gender through the odd purple and blue power armor she wore, but the voice sounded somewhat feminine. She never corrected me, so I was pretty sure I guessed right way back when we met.

Mare-do-well was one of my most reliable sources. I’ve lost count how many stories she has helped me on or how many times she has rescued me from a sticky situation. Appearing from seemingly nowhere and vanishing just as quickly, but always causing huge breaks in my stories. Sure I’d be a horrible journalist if I didn’t confirm the documents and rumors she brought to me, but always they were solid leads. The last time we’d talked was shortly before Bread Crumbs dropped off the map.

“How did you find me?” I asked, “How do you always find me?”

“That is for me to know and you to endlessly wonder about.” She chuckled, “So you gonna answer my question?”

I sighed, “Figuring out why no one in the wastes can die.”

The mare rocked back and forth on her hooves, “Wouldn’t that land you dead?”

“Right where I’d rather be,” I sighed, “with Noted. I thought the execution would end it all.”

I levitated the hat off to reveal the missing back half of my head. Mare-do-well looked away at the sight. I imagined she was making a disgusted face beyond the hatted helmet of her armor. A moment later she inquisitively poked the wound with a hoof. Pain shot through my body, almost causing me to fall to the ground again. Noticing my look, she pulled her hoof away, a small bit of my brain stuck to the bottom of it. I put my torn hat back on my head as she wiped my brain chunk off her hoof with a piece of rubble.

“And what of the buck you were with?” She asked.

“Wha-what?” I stammered, the question catching me off guard. “He was captured by slavers.”

“I saw.” she said, as if my statement had only confirmed it. And you didn’t help? “Are you gonna save him?” she continued.

“I,” I began, “I don’t know. Abide was more or less my guard.”

“Ah, thought he looked familiar.” She mused, “Heh, big bad police chief not letting you off so easily even after your execution.” I simply glared at my contact. “Their camp is three miles that way.” Mare-do-well told me, pointing a hoof northwest, “You gonna save him?”

“Ex-chief. He resigned.” I corrected her, “Why would I do that? He wouldn't let me have a gun. If I’d had one, he wouldn’t have gotten captured. He is no better than a stable pony. He can die for all I care.”

“Will he?” she replied, “Did you?”

I hadn’t. The whole wasteland had ceased dying. “No matter the gravity of the wound, even those shot in the head have been gifted with the inability to die.” DJ Pon-3 had said.

“Then he can become undead like me. I could care less about him.” I answered.

“Having a friend is sometimes better than a weapon out there in the wastes.” Mare-do-well quoted the ‘Companions and Comrades’ chapter of the Wasteland Survival Guide, “No need to travel a lonely road.”

"Its not fair to quote the WSG to me." I spat, "You know my history with Ditzy."

"Funny thing words, they alter meaning depending on the order." Mare-do-well explained, "Take 'I could care less', that means you do care, at least a little." With that she trotted off and vanished behind a collapsed building.

I glanced at my pipbuck’s map, found New Appleoosa and started trotting. I checked my inventory as I walked, thankfully the slavers hadn’t bothered to loot my ‘dead’ body. New Appleloosa was on the fringe edge of NCR territory, but the application to be part of the NCR has been in limbo for years. It was also the home of the esteemed Wasteland Survival Guide author, Ditzy Doo. I hoped to get a new copy of the S & R edition to replace the one that was shot. She might even sign it – Though she had been bashful about signing them the first time.

That slaver camp is dangerously close to New Appleloosa. I thought looking at the fact I was heading roughly the direction Mare-do-well had pointed. The act of slaving was outlawed in the NCR, but still desperate ponies did it. This far out they weren't going to be stopped by an NCR patrol. They could take out New Appleloosa and the NCR couldn’t mobilize troops fast enough to help, not that they would since they weren’t NCR controlled yet. I stopped at the thought. There are likely more than seven back at their camp. I smacked my face with my hoof. Not my problem. Not. My. Proble–

“Dammit Abide!!” I shouted out loud to myself.

*** *** ***

15. There were 15 ponies at the camp. Well, a mix of ponies and a griffon from what I could see in the blue light of twilight. There were cages with another 10 or so ponies in them arranged around a fire pit. This was all confirmed by the friendly and hostile markers on my EFS. There were also two large, green tents on the side of the fire closest to my vantage point. I couldn’t see Abide, but chances were good he was there – unless Mare-do-well lied to me, and based on experiences she was not lying.

I was unarmed, unarmored – my wool coat wasn't good for stopping bullets – and outnumbered. Oh and I was also a walking corpse, not like a ghoul, but like a dead body that shouldn’t be alive by any means magic or otherwise. A shot to the head and I’d be dead weight...literally. This was not gonna be easy.

On my way to the camp I looted several ammo crates from a downed military transport. I found it odd they hadn’t been looted in the last 235 years of the wasteland. Maybe it was because they were locked, but I read that the Lightbringer and a companion of Security were skilled lock pickers. The area around New Appleloosa was vast, so maybe those ponies and others capable of lock picking had not found the crates to unlock them. Unfortunately, there were no long range weapons. There were just two matrix disruption grenades – one a rare, overcharged matrix disruption grenade – three frag grenades, a mine, and loads of ammo for guns I didn’t have. So allow me to correct myself, I was lightly armed, unarmored, and outnumbered.

I waited for one of the slavers to leave the camp to use the bathroom. The buck was wearing heavy, leather barding. I couldn't make out his coat or mane in the dwindling light. He began to relieve himself and I threw one of the matrix disruption grenades. Under normal circumstances they would be ineffective against flesh and blood ponies. Depending on the voltage, they might knock a pony out. This one was the overcharged voltage type, capable of at least stunning a pony – as long as you got them in contact with water first. It let out a burst of static, startling the peeing pony. Before he could react properly, the sparks climbed the stream and he splashed in the puddle of his own pee.

Wrinkling my nose I picked over the unconscious slaver. I left his armor. I had no need or want to smell like slaver piss, but I did take his very beat up and unkept shotgun, all the 20 gauge shots he had, and his combat knife. To be safe I slit his throat. A dead slaver is better than leaving him unconscious. One down, 14 to go.

From the buck I moved silently into the camp. This was not my first rodeo. An undercover investigation into the new occupants of Old Appleloosa a year back revealed it was still a slaver town. I’d gotten in, got my evidence, and gotten out without anypony noticing. With my proof, and the article printed in the Tribune, the NCR troopers returned to set the town straight. I didn’t have NCR troopers this time. I had to be even sneakier, but I could harm or kill them this time and free the slaves before they were sold.

I slipped into the first tent. There were no slavers in there, just a few bedrolls. Two slavers entered the other end of the tent. A buck and a mare. They were both purple with blond manes. They were likely siblings, which made what they were doing very confusing. They were making out with lustful fervor. Both were very drunk from the smell of whiskey on them. If they knew they were related, they didn’t care. Good thing they were so into each other that they didn’t see me gawking. BANG! BANG! Two more slavers dropped. Unfortunately, the double barrel shotgun was not quiet.

I threw the mine on the ground in the center of the tent and exited the way I came. Four slavers entered the tent to see who was attacking. BWOOM! I looked at my EFS, 1 blip still remained. The unicorn mare exited the tent. Shrapnel blinding one of her eyes. Blood dripped on her brown coat. She still had enough concentration to hold her 10mm pistol. I activated the Stable-Tec Arcane Targeting Spell and time slowed to a crawl.

"Welcome Princess to the Stable-Tec Arcane Targeting Spell tutorial." a mare's voice filled my ears.

Hold on, what?

"Welcome Princess to the Stable-Tec Arcane Targeting Spell, also called SATS, tutorial." the voice said again, before continuing, "A helpful spell used to assist in combat encounters."

Ok, um will you let me use the spell?

"To activate the spell, simply tense up during a combat encounter." the voice went on.

Yeah, I know that. It's how I got here. I really do not have time for this!

"Once the spell is active, simply select the the target area of the attacker." The voice droned, unaware of my frustrated protests. "Each target area will display a percent. This percent is the calculated chance of hitting the target with the selected weapon."

Finally, the rest of the spell activated. The slaver's body became outlined in blue. Each section of her body was highlighted with a percent chance to hit. Finally! I toggled a bullet to her head, but the pipbuck informed me that the shotgun would not fire. Damn.

"Broken weapon equipped." The voice replied, "Do you wish to change weapon, Princess?"

Yes.

"While in SATS. If the weapon is damaged beyond use or you simply wish to change weapon, think 'innovatory' to access the organization spell." The voice explained. I complied.

A blue window opened in my vision displaying the contents of my bag. I toggled with my mind to my weapons. Aside from the shotgun, I had the frag grenades, the normal voltage matrix disruption grenade, and the combat knife. The grenades wouldn't be helpful in close combat, so I selected the knife. The rusted blade appeared in my frozen telekinesis. Did it teleport it from my bag? I targeted her head, 56% chance to hit. The spell released and she shot her gun. The bullet grazed my ear as I moved in SATS assisted accuracy to slit her throat. She flopped to the ground gargling on her blood. A moment later she stopped breathing.

I turned as another bullet impacted the tent. Four more slavers were coming up behind me. I picked up the mare’s discarded pistol. I frowned as I saw there were only three bullets in the chamber. I activated SATS. Thankfully the tutorial appeared to be over, but the spell hadn't recharged fully. I was only able to cue in two bullets. I selected the first slaver – an earth pony buck – and targeted the head. I moved to select the head of the pegasus mare hovering just above the buck as well. Time resumed and the spell had me pull the trigger. BANG! A bullet hole that mirrored the one on my forehead appeared on the buck – ok it was smaller than mine, but it was in roughly the same place. The second shot missed and the pegasus tackled me to the ground. I shoved the combat knife into her stomach and twisted. Her face contorted into an agonizing, wordless scream as her body stilled.

Pushing the mare off me, I faced my next attacker. SATS was still recharging, but I didn’t need it to stab the griffon as he pounced at me. My red magic thrust the blood coated knife in the back of his head as his pounce over shot my form. He landed dead in the tent behind me knocking it over. That made 10 down, 5 more to go. If they keep attacking one by one or in small groups, I’ll be fine.

In the moment it took me to mentally tally the remaining slavers, the fourth of the newest group tackled me. At first I thought it was an earth pony, but as the glow of the fire flickered I saw stripes. This was a zebra. No wonder they were unarmed. If I didn’t think quickly I’d at the very least be facing a broken bone or two. At worst I’d die, again, but I guessed it would likely not be permanent. The zebra mare used her momentum to roll back to her hooves, me in tow, and snapped my rear, left leg. Had I been completely alive, I’d be in a lot of pain. It hurt, but only dully like the execution shot in my head.

I pushed away and balanced on three hooves. I panted out of habit. My lungs were back in the Junction City morgue. The mare popped a yellow pill into her mouth before her next attack. Fuck! Doombunny Style. The mare charged, the foamy froth on her lips denoting Buck was the drug of choice. Her hoof attack was aimed at my stomach. Twine gave way and her hoof got caught in my chest cavity. This was something she had not expected. To be fair, no pony until myself pranced around without internal organs and lived. I smiled, she grimaced.

“What are you?” she asked.

I answered her by grabbing her neck and twisting. With all my strength I pulled until her neck snapped and she fell limp. That made 11.

I glanced around the camp for my next attacker. None came. Had I miscounted? Did the others flee? I felt a small rumble beneath my hooves. A new blip appeared in my EFS and it clicked. There were 16 slavers: 15 ponies, zebras and griffons, and one hellhound. I jumped out of the way and fell onto my side as I tried to stand on my broken leg. How do I kill a hellhound?!

I stood and faced him, it was too late to just leave and go to New Appleloosa. He fired a shot with his magic energy weapon. It went wide and struck my fedora. It glowed pink and disintegrated. Damn him to tartarus, I liked that hat! To the hellhound’s credit, he looked shocked to see the bullet hole in my head.

I took the moment to attack and cued up SATS, as it had finally recharged. I knew from my encyclopedic knowledge of the WSG that hellhounds were tough foes. Instead of targeting his hide I targeted his gun. “If you ever have to take on a hellhound, keep your distance. Their claws are one of their most deadly features, but only in close combat. Their hides are also very tough, only magic energy seems to cause any significant damage. The one weak point is their choice of weapons. The magical energy weapons they use are highly augmented and very unstable. A lucky shot to their gun might cause it to explode.”

The spell resolved and I moved in for a single strike to the gun, before dancing nimbly out of the way of his claw swipe. A few cut strands of amber mane fell from my head as I backed away. He growled and tried to fire his weapon again, only to have it explode in his face. When the after image faded, the hellhound lay in a gory heap. 12 down, 4 to go.

Before I got attacked again, I looted the dead slavers. The hellhound and zebra had little, but the rest had some badly damaged weapons, a few shots of ammo – one more 20 gauge shell, and seven 10mm – a healing potion, a bottle of wonder glue, and 28 caps.

By my estimate there were four more slavers still in the camp. I moved to the cages. The remaining four slavers were guards. Two earth ponies and two unicorns. Two grenades got rid of three of them, maiming the fourth. I looked at the cages, there were 13 ponies. In the back, looking very shook up, was Abide. I stabbed my knife in the head of the last slaver and picked the keys off his belt. The second I unlocked the cages all, but Abide scrambled to leave. Not a single ‘thank you’? I was relieved that these slavers didn’t use bomb collars. Finally Abide trotted up to me.

“You...you came for me?” he asked, confused, “You could have left me.”

“Yeah, but this slaver camp was too close to New Appleloosa for comfort.” I replied.

“And they’re still not NCR.” He added, looking at the ground, “Just convenient I was here then?”

“Pretty much.” I said, before sighing, “You are only ‘escorting’ me because of what I did. It would look bad on me if I let you get sold into slavery.”

With a series of thuds I hoofed over all the weapons I’d acquired from the slavers: A few guns and a blood coated combat knife.

“Here,” I said, “If you don't want me to have any weapons, you can carry them all. Hope you hit the gym, lawboy.”

Abide just stared blankly at me, “You still have that Survival Guide?”

I nodded and levitated out the S & R edition of the Hoofington Guide, since we were heading to the Lunar Commonwealth. At that, Abide grabbed a saddlebag from one of the fallen slavers to use as his own. He pocketed the book and the weapons before moving to loot the rest of the camp.

While he did, I dug out the healing potion and chugged it. It flowed out the seam in my chest due to the lack of a stomach, healing nothing. Figures since I’m dead, and you can’t heal dead.

Sighing I dug out the bottle of wonder glue and put a dab on the bone sticking out the side of my leg. Grunting, I forced it back into my body. I winced at the pain as the bone set. I hoped it would hold. I stood and hopped up and down. Looks like it will hold. That set, I fished out some twine I’d kept from when I awoke and a needle to resew the y-cut on my belly. When I was finished, Abide returned with his original set of saddlebags in addition to the ones he’d taken.

“Are we sure they’re dead?” I asked.

“I checked the pulse of the ones by the tent. The Hellhound is missing his right side and there is pony mush by the cages.” He reported in a very matter-of-fact tone, like talking to a foal.

“Yeah? You thought I was dead too.” I countered, “And now I’m trotting around with a hole in my head and no internal organs.” Well, except for my heart, but logistics… “How long before I came back?”

Abide put a hoof to his chin and thought for a moment before speaking, “About 9-10 hours, give or take. But even if these folks came back, they are more maimed than you were and without weapons.”

“We should still warn New Appleoosa.” I suggested and he simply nodded in agreement.

*** *** ***

Footnotes:

Jibbly Jot: Level Up! Level -1

New Perk Added:

Slasher – You are more likely to strike a fatal blow with a bladed weapon like a knife, saw or axe. +5% critical chance.

Abide: NO STATUS CHANGES

Quest Started:

No Rest for the Wicked – √ (Optional) Eliminate the Slavers
√ (Optional) Free the slaves
√ (Optional) Rescue Abide
Warn New Appleoosa about the slavers.

Article 4: Shame & Regret

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It was well past dusk by the time we got to New Appleloosa. I trotted up to the gate and cleared my throat, “Hey, Snaggletooth, that you?” I called up to the guard.

“Huh?” the guard called back, having been woken up while sleeping on the job. Typical Snaggletooth. “Who?” The sniper rifle moved to get a look at Abide and I, “Jot? Arn't y'all ayy convicted murderuurr aw somethin'?”

Snag was at one point my assistant. E had taken pity on him and offered him a job. Well after he applied specifically to be my assistant over 347 times. Yes, you are correct in assuming he wanted to get close to me. This was before he realized I had a kid and he "Don't care faw younguns." Somehow he had missed that about me even though he was 'my biggest fan'. So during my tenure as ghost writer for Ditzy, he became involved with a mare in town and opted to stay when I left back to Junction City. We’d stayed in touch. Ironically, he was now the expecting father of twins.

“Convicted and executed.” I boasted, before casting a glance at Abide. Abide was still not happy about me cheating death. His eyes burned with hatred, but the intensity of the flames had waned, “Didn’t stick.” I finished.

“Whel then,” Snaggletooth called back, “Welcome bak ta New Appleloosa! Try nahwt ta kill naw pony.”

The gate squealed and began to open. Before it swung completely open I darted in, much to Abide’s chagrin. I just had to see Ditzy. Not only to get a new S & R edition, but to say hi and catch up. It had been a little over three years since we had time to talk. The newly undead slavers wouldn't wake back up for a few hours, I had time.

I made a beeline for Absolutely Everything. For those not in the know, Absolutely Everything is the best trading outpost in the wastes. Even compared to bigger trade centers like Megamart or Tenpony Tower. Though my admiration for the author of the Wasteland Survival Guide might make me a bit biased.

I burst through the door startling a New Appleloosian mare and her colt; more from my obvious fatal wound than my sudden appearance. She quickly ushered her colt out of the shop abandoning the box of sugar apple bombs and box of buckshot they were thinking of purchasing. I scanned the train engine, but didn’t see any sign of the ghoul pegasus. I did see a lavender mare with a silver mane, the adoptive daughter of Ditzy, Silver Bell.

I slumped. It looked like Ditzy was out either making deliveries or getting irradiated water for ghouls or something. I admit the reason escapes me at the moment. The lavender mare noticed me and trotted over. A chime of bells rang as her horn lit in excitement. Behind me the door opened and a heavily panting Abide entered. What did he think I was gonna go on a killing spree with my bare hooves? I mean I could, but I hardly had a reason to.

“Jib-Jot!” She greeted, and I bristled at the nickname. At least she didn’t call me Jibbly. “What brings you to Absolutely Everything today?”

“I,” I hesitated, if I could still blush, I would have been bright red, “I was hoping to see Ditzy.”

“She’ll be back tomorrow.” She replied, before she smirked, “Fixing to be rejected again?”

“I, um, no. That’s not it.” I stammered.

“I miss something?” Abide asked in confusion from behind me.

“Ooooh, who's this?” Silver asked cheerily, addressing the new pony.

“Abide,” Abide provided, “former Junction City Police Chief.”

“Ah, ok. Your friend here,” Silver explained, motioning to me, “has a huge crush on my mom, Ditzy.”

I slumped to the floor and buried my face in my hooves. It was true, I DID have a crush on Ditzy Doo. I’m no fillyfooler, but there was something about the ghoul author I couldn’t help but love. Too bad she was very, very taken. A Canterlot ghoul, named Lionheart, who has a tendency to yell a lot. He was part of the reason I hadn’t seen Ditzy in three years. I’d grown more infatuated with her while I helped write the new guides. I’d stupidly asked if they’d be open to a threesome after a night of drinking to celebrate completing the books. Ditzy let me down easily saying – well writing – ‘We’re just friends.’ Lionheart had nearly busted my eardrums in his anger. To that end I’d mostly interacted with Silver since then.

“HAD!” I shouted, poorly hiding my embarrassment even if I couldn’t blush, “I had a crush on her. I don’t anymore.”

“Sure you don’t.” Silver purred, trying not to look at my fatal wound, “So the DJ wasn’t lying.”

Glad for the change of subject, I got back to my hooves. My glued leg creaked as I did. Silver levitated over an old black fedora with a red stripe on it. There was even a faded white press badge tucked beneath the cloth of the stripe.

“On the house.” Silver said, embodying the generosity of her adoptive mother, as she dropped the hat on my head. My horn slipping through a hole purposely cut in the front of the hat. The bullet hole in my forehead covered without ripping the hat brim again.

A bit tacky, but I suppose it will do. “Thank you.” I muttered, pointing to Abide, “He has some things to trade, I’ll secure us a room.”

At that I grabbed a new S & R edition from the display and left – don’t worry all Guides are free. I didn’t want to have Silver Belle bring up my crush again...at least while I was in the shop.

*** *** ***

30 minutes later I was sitting in the saloon staring into a half empty apple whisky. The other half soaked my jacket or was on the floor in a pathetic puddle. Not having guts sucked because I couldn’t get drunk anymore. It may have been because I was clinically dead, but I preferred to blame my lack of internal organs.

A pony trotted up behind me. I didn’t look, I knew it was Abide. He dropped a combat knife on the counter knocking over the rest of my drink. Based on the beat up handle I could tell it was the same combat knife I’d picked off that slaver. Though it was in a surprisingly clean camo sheath able to be strapped to a leg. I lifted it in my magic and removed it from the sheath. It had also been cleaned and sharpened.

“I still don’t trust you with guns.” he stated, “But you saved my life when you didn’t have to and most knife wounds aren't fatal.”

“Unless I slit your throat.” I joked, but I heard him take a tentative step back. I turned to face him and re-sheathed the knife, “I’m not going to, though. Thank you. Been meaning to work on my close combat skills.”

“It is also the payment for borrowing your book.” He added.

I laughed, “Didn’t think you’d actually pay the toll.”

“Well I did.” he sighed, “If we are going to keep traveling together, I’ll need to give you a little trust.”

I sighed and levitated the bottle of apple whiskey to my lips and sipped the last few drops to mask my smile. Abide wasn’t that bad once you got to know him. I didn't consider him a friend yet, but at most he was a contact. On the same level as Mare-do-well without the history she and I shared.

*** *** ***

I frowned and looked at the ceiling. I wasn't able to sleep. I'd been unable to sleep for the past few days of travel, but felt in unimportant to bring up. The only rest I’d gotten recently was the night before my execution, the period of time following my execution – if you could call the afterlife sleep – and the unknown amount of time after being re-killed by those slavers. Whomever coined the phrase ‘I’ll sleep when I’m dead’ clearly hadn't died before! Next to me in the other bed was Abide, snoring like a ripper. That was another reason I wasn't able to sleep.

Curious of my unwanted companion, I levitated over his saddlebags. Unlike the past few nights, he was not protectively using them as a pillow. Locked? So much for trust. I fished out a bobby pin and screwdriver from my own supplies to pick the easy lock. Free of any hinderance I sifted through the contents with my pipbuck, ignoring the tutiorial about innovatory management. Among his possessions was a memory orb. Odd? Why would he have a memory orb?

I pulled it out, careful to wrap around it with my magic and not focus on it directly. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t unique for a memory orb. Where most memory orbs glow a soft white, few glow different colors. If the story of Security is true, honestly some parts are very far fetched – Really going to the moon? As if! – Then there are some memory orbs out there that glow yellow to signify the memories of a pony named Goldenbleed or something else straight out of an old Equestrian nobility naming book. The memory orb in Abide's bag was glowing red. The soft crimson matching the color of my magic making it look like a glowing ball of blood.

Only one way to find out why he has it, might be a good way to pass the time. So I reached out with my new crimson magic and made contact with the orb. The rickety old boxcar converted to an inn faded away.

~~ooOO~~OOoo~~

I was…..me? This was one of my own memories? I was wearing what I always wore: my trusty wool jacket. I brushed my mane with an old brush that was only slightly bent before exiting my bathroom, levitating my fedora onto my head as I did. I trotted through my bedroom, out the door, and down the stairs.

Boy is it odd being on a ride like this as myself. I moved into the den. A forest green alicorn with a blue and purple mane was entertaining my daughter with an old toy sky chariot. I recognized the mare as Triple E’s wife, Compass Rose. She writes the travel section of the Tribune.

“Thank you for watching Noted, Compass.” I felt myself say.

“It isn’t a bother.” she replied in my mind, a process that still weirds me out even as a memory, but Compass isn't comfortable using her vocal cords as she didn't for many years under that Goddess thing. “I love children, so I don’t mind watching her.”

“Still, thank you.” I replied, kneeling to kiss Noted on the forehead.

“Mom!” she squealed, “gross!”

“I’ve been so worried since Bread’s disappearance.” I continued, “I feel more comfortable going out with an alicorn watching her.”

“I will protect her with my life.” she answered in my mind.

“And make sure nopony gets into the study.” I felt myself say, feeling the paranoia I’d felt back then, as my eyes darted around nervously. She simply nodded and went back to entertaining Noted.

There were no more words as I left my small Junction City home for the last time. I knew where I was going: R7. I knew what I was doing: chasing down a lead. There was a growing feeling of dread as I watched, I knew what was going to happen next. I regretted viewing the orb. Curse my curiosity! I lived this memory first hoof and I did not want to see it again, but there is no abort button while watching a memory. I was going to live through the worst day of my life, again, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

I was powerless as the memory blurred. So this was an edited memory orb? The memory re-coalesced at R7. My lead had not panned out and I was getting drunk. Either the contact had panicked and didn’t show or Coriander had gotten to them first. The realization hit me like a bag of bricks. Something I’d only have realized reviewing the memory as an outsider. There was no contact, Coriander had set me up. Get me out of the house so she could burn it down.

The memory blurred as I got up to leave. Why didn’t it show more of the bar? Or the others I stopped in after? I'm a drunk, sue me. It reformed as I was nearing my house. I was pleasantly drunk and humming a song to myself. The me of the memory sniffed the air. I smelled smoke. The smell snapped me out of my drunken stupor. Memories in memory orbs didn’t record thoughts, but I knew what I was thinking: Noted!

I ran as fast and as coordinated as I could. I mentally ran along with myself. I wished I didn’t have to see what happened next. I got to my house and saw it and the house on either side ablaze. The feeble Junction City firefighters were trying to fight the fire. They had managed to stop it from spreading to anymore houses, but mine was a lost cause.

I saw Compass. She had burns all down her left side and was being fed a healing potion. But her coughing spilled more than half onto the dirt. I watched my past self run up to her.

“Compass! What happened?” I panted, slightly slurred, “Where’s Noted?”

“Jot, I’m so sorry.” she sobbed in actual spoken words, before breaking into a coughing fit, “I tried. I couldn’t stop them.”

I seized her in my magic, “Where. Is. Noted?!”

She pointed to the blaze with a wing and my heart stopped. I dropped her to the dirt and made my way towards the blaze.

“I tried. I’m so sorry.” Compass Rose called at me as I left her there in a crying, coughing heap.

A stallion stopped me a few feet from the fire. I could feel the intense heat from where I stood.

“Miss stay back!” he called as I kicked and bucked at him, tears forming in my eyes, “It's not safe.”

I honed my magic and teleported into the flames burning the remains of my living room. I had never been able to teleport before, but never underestimate what a mother is capable of when her child was in danger. The fact that the teleport singed my mane and tail was mute as the fire licked at them catching them on fire.

“Noted!” I screamed, coughing as I inhaled smoke, “Noted! Are you in here?”

I made it as far as the stairs, the smoke was slowly choking me. My hide burned. Finally I collapsed. The corners of my vision were going dark. That’s when I heard it. At the time I may have been too busy dying, but as an outsider I heard what sounded like voices on the second floor. A mare and a stallion. They were arguing, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. I wanted to strain my ears to try to hear, but I was pulled out by the red magic of one of the firefighters. He barked something about how unsafe I was acting. Water was splash on me to put out the flames on my mane and tail as I was force fed a healing potion. Another odd thing, there were no unicorn firefighters near me once I'd been pulled from the flames. Who used magic to pull me out? The memory blurred again.

It coalesced during the day at the Junction City market. I felt my furrowed brow and my sore throat from smoke inhalation. My coat still smelled faintly of smoke. Tucked under the collar was my 10mm revolver. I saw Coriander and Abide shopping. Without hesitation I moved close to them.

“Ah, Miss Jot. What can–” Coriander began, but she cut off abruptly as I pulled out the gun and fired.

In moments the crowd reacted. I think somepony screamed. I felt a sharp, cold pain in my side. Lethargy hit my past self and they began to pass out. The last thing I saw was the hurt face of Abide, brain matter smeared in his mane. At that, the edited memory orb finally ended.

~~ooOO~~OOoo~~

When I came to, I saw the first few rays of the sun peaking over the horizon. Abide was still snoring, undisturbed by my insomnia and snooping. I didn’t have tears in my eyes even though I felt like I could cry for days. I guessed either I had run out of tears to cry over the loss of my daughter or being dead, no more tears formed. Either way in the absence of tears I got angry and threw the orb against the wall. It made a soft thud against the metal before rolling under Abide’s bed.

I was about to get up to retrieve it when another thud hit the wall. This time it was accompanied by an explosion that knocked the train car room off the one it was welded too. The bed fell atop me and Abide was startled awake by the fall. I heard the other sounds of fighting outside in the town. New Appleloosa was under attack.

Abide and I grabbed our things and scrambled out the window, since the door was blocked by the ground. Who was attacking the town? As I jumped out the window I got my answer: A hellhound who was oozing gore from his right side, a zebra with her head facing backwards, and a bunch of other ponies who looked like they should be dead were facing off with the ill-prepared town guard.

“No matter the gravity of the wound, even those shot in the head have been gifted with the inability to die. 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.” The DJ had said.

I’d been so caught up with my crush on Ditzy I never told Snaggletooth my warning!

A hard smack to my head from Abide, that flared up the pain in my head wound, snapped my thoughts back to the attack at hoof. “Jot!” He shouted, “Snap out of it!”

I shook my head, ignoring the pain as it returned to its ever present dull sting. “Right, right...” I trailed off still in shock, I barely noticed he called me by the correct name.

I reached for my combat knife, removing it from its sheath, and focused on my EFS. There were about 18 attackers in range of my EFS. I noticed there were more than just the ones I’d killed at the camp. In my direct vision I saw the half-a-hellhound, the back necked zebra, and a minotaur that looked as if he’d been crushed to death wielding a missile launcher.

The crushed minotaur readied his next shot. I tackled Abide as the missile fired. It impacted the ground where we had been standing sending dirt, mud, heat and shrapnel in its wake. We rolled for a bit and landed in the lobby of the Railroad Inn we’d been staying in.

“Th-thanks.” Abide muttered, getting up and dusting himself off.

He retrieved a semi-automatic assault rifle from his bag, shooting me a glare at the picked lock. I shrugged and he pointed it out the door, firing at the hellhound. I rolled my eyes. He clearly knew nothing about dealing with hellhounds.

“Aim for the missing side, moron. If you hit the injury that killed them, they go down as if dead for a while.” I informed him.

“Are you sure?” He asked, shifting his aim.

“Trust me.” I pleaded.

Abide looked over at me, contemplating my request. His eyes told me he did not trust me. “I suppose you have the most experience on the matter.” he relented, opening fire.

Goddesses, he is worse with semi-automatic guns than he was with my former pistol. I thought as his shots went wide, but it provided enough of a distraction for me to get in close with my knife. Sticking the freshly sharpened blade where the hellhound’s right hip had been and cut up towards his shoulder. I did get a claw swipe to my side and more than a few bullets from Abide for my efforts, but as predicted the hellhound fell still. For good measure, I stuck the blood red knife into his remaining eye and twisted. Living beyond death is one thing, but you still need eyes to see.

“Is he dead?” Abide asked in the silence that followed.

“For now.” I answered flatly, “No telling how quick they come back subsequent times.”

I turned back to Abide. This was the second time in as many days, I’d seen Abide visibly shaken. Comparing him to a stable pony was apt. Junction City is one of the safest settlements in the NCR – quite possibly the whole of the Equestrian Wasteland. It has a police force simply to take the role away from the NCR military. The most it has to deal with is petty theft, maybe a B&E. It is the reason my blatant murder of Congresswoman Coriander was so shocking. Not that other murders haven’t happened, but nothing as public as mine was. So if seeing his lover’s brains blown out in front of him wasn’t his wakeup call to the horrors of the wasteland, getting captured by slavers and being attacked by zombie-like bodies a day later has definitely done that. Now it was my turn to slap him.

SLAP! “Buck up lawboy! This ain’t Ghoul Street, Junction City.” I shouted, trying to break his shell shock, “This is the Wasteland. Wake up, inaction gets you or others killed.”

“I–I know,” he stammered.

“You are pretty shit with a gun all things considered, so stay low and try to get ponies out of the line of fire.” I ordered, before relaxing my expression, “And don’t die. Unlife ain't all it's cracked up to be.”

“I think I can do that, same,” he said, slinging the semi-automatic over his shoulder and running out the door.

I wanted to comment on how I was already dead, but the moment had past and I had undead slavers to re-kill.

*** *** ***

When I got to Absolutely Everything, it was on fire. While the metal engine was not good kindling, the merchandise sold at the trading post – most notably the copious copies of the Wasteland Survival Guide – were far more flammable.

My reason for heading to the store was in pursuit of the Back Headed Zebra. When I had re-killed the hellhound, the zebra was nearby. The Minotaur was a bigger threat, but he had moved on to destroy another section of town by the time I'd taken down the hellhound. The zebra recognized me and fled. I lost them in the chase, but upon seeing the shop ablaze my objective changed to making sure Silver Belle was ok. I could never face Ditzy if she ended up like me.

Instinctively, I held my breath and shook off flashbacks to the last fire I’d run headlong into. I peered through the thick, back smoke, relying on my EFS to search for my – Acquaintance? Contact? Pony I know? Let's go with Contact. I was relying on my EFS to find my contact. I was only reading two life forms. One blue, one red.

“Come out lass, ya can’t hide fawevuurr.” A very rough voice called out somewhere in the back room. I figured he must be a ghoul, but they could also have been killed by something that damaged the voice box. I did drop one of the slavers last night by slitting their throat.

Following the sound I bucked down the door to the back room. Turning to the sound I looked into the eyes of the pony I’d electrocuted while he was peeing. Yep, death by slit throat. He was so surprised by my entrance I was able to turn the slit on his throat from single line to an ‘X’ before he could bring his double barrel shotgun to bear. True to form, he dropped again. His body was reminded of the first killing blow I’d inflicted. To be sure, I pushed his limp corpse into the burning pantry. The already singed fur quickly catching alight. If he did get back up after that, a crispy critter is much easier to take down.

“Silver Belle!” I shouted, “Where are you? It is safe to come out!”

“Jib-Jot?” She called horsely, and I scanned the smoke filled room with my EFS. Her blip was under the bed. good she still has an EFS marker.

I worried when she didn't say more, but after what felt like ages she inched out, coughing heavily from smoke inhalation. Seeing her I rushed to her aid, putting my knife away, and using my magic to assist in walking her out of the fire.

“You are not dying on my watch.” I told her, as we left the shop the way I'd entered and right into the backwards head Zebra. Fuck! She had been leading me into a trap!

“Time for our rematch. One damned soul to another.” She challenged.

I took a step back towards the inferno of Absolutely Everything. With Silver using me as support, I couldn’t fight the zebra. I had no way of knowing how having a backwards head affected her combat skills. How the fuck do I re-kill her? I got lucky last time snapping her neck!

My thoughts were interrupted as a sniper’s bullet turned the zebra’s head to red jelly. Thank the goddess for Snaggletooth.

I looked up at the unicorn stallion as he slid down a firepony pole from his home perched on the wall of New Appaloosa. His aqua mane flowed in the wind as he landed in the dirt, adding more filth to his muddled green coat. Without missing a beat he galloped over to me and offered a healing potion. At my 'really?' look, he sheepishly helped feed it to Silver Belle.

“Ay were a-tryin' ta hit that there damned griff, when ay done saw that there zeeb out in the open.” He beamed.

“Snag, you're taken and I’m not interested.” I joked, “Thank you, though.”

“Nothin' ta it, Jot.” he grinned.

I grimaced at his set of summer teeth – you know, some are green, some are black, some are missing? Ok, ok, Snag can slap me for that one later.

“You should get back to the fight, I’ll be fine from here.” I told him, helping Silver back to her hooves. The potion had helped her, but she was still weak. Out in the open we were sitting ducks.

“Raheet-o,” Snag began as I saw a disintegration bolt strike him in the flank. I was frozen in horror as his body glowed pink. His goofy grin frozen in time as he began to fall away to a pile of dust. Snag!

All attempts to help Silver were abandoned as I collapsed to the ground. I used an empty sparkle cola bottle to try to scoop up his remains before they blew away. At that moment, I would have done anything to bring back my friend. Yes, I know I dance around it normally, but lecherousness aside, while he was my assistant, we’d gotten pretty close. Outside of Triple E and Compass Rose, he was one of few ponies I'd call a true friend. I think he was even gonna name me the godmother of his foals. Oh Goddesses! His foals will never know their father!

I was so consumed with collecting his ashes, that I didn’t notice the griffon land inches from where Snag had just been standing.

“Well, if it isn't ze bitch who ended my life lahst night.” The griffon growled in an accent I couldn't quite place, “I should zank you foah ziss new condition I'm inflicted wiss. I know you cahn't die, but I could teeuh you to pieces. Foahtunahtely foah you, ze boss wants you intahct. come quietly, ahnd ze rest of ze New Ahppleloosaihns cahn go in peace.”

Hold on, this attack was all to find me? It's not just random, undead slavers taking in new merchandise? What in the wild world of Equestria is going on here? I’m not important, I’m just a journalist and convicted/executed murderer from Junction City. I didn’t encounter these slavers until last night. They even originally left me for dead. What the fuck does their boss want with me?

*** *** ***

Footnotes:

Jibbly Jot: Level Up! Level -2

New Perk Added:

Cutter – (perquisite Slasher Perk) You are even more likely to strike a fatal blow with a bladed weapon like a knife, saw or axe. +10% critical chance.

Abide: Level Up! Level 4

New Perk Added:

Spray and Prey – Even if you do not hit your target, the act of you shooting in their general direction has a chance of stunning them, allowing for your allies to get close to them mostly unharmed. -15 to Stun DT to all foes in your line of sight while you are holding an automatic or semi-automatic gun, but -10% critical chance. Though you have a 5% chance to hit allies in your line of sight.

Quest Perk Added:

Wakeup Call – You have finally woken up to the dangers of the wasteland. +13 speech (when talking to other wasteland newbees). You have unique dialogue options with select individuals.

Quests Updated:

No Rest for the Wicked – Save New Appleoosa from the undead, slaver threat.

Article 5: Dealing with the Past

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“Hold on.” I spat, attaching a bottle cap to the bottle full of Snaggletooth’s ashes with my magic. I tilted my head and looked the griffon in the eyes. As I did, I noticed the glint of metal reflecting the light of the sunrise in the sky behind him. “You left me for dead and now you suddenly want me?”

“Suah Shot did mention a frumpy maeh she killed...hmmm,” The griffon mused, “Well zeah hahs been a rahthah ahbrupt chahnge in leadehship. Ze new boss wants you, I don't ahsk questions. So, come along quietly.”

“And who is this leader?” I barked, not moving a muscle.

“You'll find out soon enough. No moah questions!” He spat back at me.

I had clearly struck a nerve. I smirked and chanced asking one more question, “Let me guess, you were the boss until...well I killed you? Right?”

“Bitch, I said no moah-” He began, but was cut off as a ball of rotting flesh and purple gothic armor slammed into him.

“HALT THY ATTACK AT ONCE!” Lionheart bellowed, his anger not hidden in the slightest.

I’d been the recipient of that anger before. I’d feel sorry for this griffon had he not just killed a friend of mine. Slipping Snag’s ashes into my saddlebag I scanned the sky again. Sure enough there was Ditzy Doo and her trusty skycart. She swooped overhead preparing for a landing, but some of the undead slavers – though I wasn’t quite sure they were still slavers under this ‘new boss’ – had realized the tide of the battle had changed, and tried to shoot her down. This caused her to swerve abruptly to the left to avoid being hit. The maneuver spilling some of her cart’s passengers: three power armor clad ponies.

They fell unceremoniously into the blood soaked dirt of the center plaza, the suits they wore absorbing the brunt of the fall damage. I had to make a double take at the image on their flanks. Any wasteland wise pony knows there are three primary groups of ponies who sport power armor: The Enclave – stuck up pegasi who got their flanks given to them many years ago – The Steel Rangers – Tech loving, raider, asshats – and the Applejack’s Rangers – slightly less asshattish spinoffs of the steelpricks that actually help the wasteland.

These ponies were none of those groups. Their flanks sported a stylized picture of a Flaming Hoofprint and the words 'FHB - Semper Flagrans'. A recent fourth group to sport power armor out in the wastes: The Flaming Hoof Brigade. They started as a NCR military squad – and on paper they still are. They were the first squad outfitted with newly minted power armor. What started as ill-equipped ponies in mini-tanks grew into its own under the leadership of General Blaze. Now they are elite members of the military. Unlike most squads they are allowed to take on mercenary work. More often than not, they act as NCR enforcers strong hoofing settlements into wanting to join the NCR – you know ‘for protection’. Oh and of course NCR top brass would never admit to this use of the FHB, but I know and so now you do.

What the fuck is Blaze’s boys doing here? They never help non-NCR settlements. How did they even know New Appleloosa was under attack? I was shaken from my thoughts as one of the FHB members stood and pointed his very intimidating grenade machine gun at me. Right, if they are here to ‘kill’ ponies and others who look dead, I fit the bill.

“I, um,” I gulped, trying to compose myself. That griffon had been right, I couldn’t die at the moment, but I was not sure how I’d fair blown to smithereens. Knowing the FHB, I'd be tiny flaming chunks thanks to incendiary grenades – what did you think the ‘Flaming’ part of their name was just to sound cool?

“Char Broil! No!” Abide shouted, popping in from out of nowhere to stand between me and the flaming death pony, Where did he come from? “Jot is not one of them! She is on our side.” He hesitated before adding, “At the moment.”

“Oh I know.” The armor intoned, “I was just getting revenge for what her article did to General Blaze. Step aside, bro.”

Did I forget to mention I’d written an article about General Blaze? Because I did and it might have gotten General Blaze put on an ‘unpaid extended leave of absence from the military.’ Mind you it had nothing to do with the aforementioned accusations, it had to do with a scandal involving a hooker or two on the Dise strip and a lot of illicit drugs.

Hold on, did he say ‘bro’?

“Abide, you're related to this hot head?” I asked.

“Bro, you friends with this filth?” Char Broil added.

“Yes, by marriage.” Abide answered me, “It's complicated.” He said to his step-brother.

“Well this trash columnist’s slander got Gen. Blaze fired.” Char spat.

“Technically, if it's written it's libel.” I snarked, “but my story was 100% factual.”

“Every soldier deserves to let loose and relax from time to time!” Char yelled, the effect amplified by his armor’s speaker, “Though she is convicted of murder. She killed your fiancé, Bro. She–”

“Was executed.” Abide finished for him, “Or have you not been listening to the news? She was killed, her sentence carried out. Just somehow she and everypony who has died since has come back.” Abide scowled as he was reminded about me cheating death, “You are here to help the town. We’ll talk later.”

Char Broil seemed to accept the situation and charged off to ‘kill’ some monstrous slavers, leaving Abide and me in the blood spattered streets.

*** *** ***

Before noon the remaining invaders had been ‘killed’ or chased off. New Appleloosa had survived to live another day. Though it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, 17 of the residents had perished in the fight including Snag and five other town guard members. The FHB members were more than happy to take my suggestion to burn the dead attackers – at least any not already burnt to a crisp or splattered to bloody chunks.

They were less enthusiastic about doing the same to the dead residents. Abide had to convince them and the town that in ten or so hours they would rise again. It would only cause more pain for those still alive. When all was said and done, I knew this was the last time I would set hoof in New Appleloosa. Even if no pony openly blamed me, I was the only undead left to point a hoof at and I had suggested the desecration of the town’s dead. What was a few more haters. In my line of work, they are a badge of honor. The only loss would be never seeing Ditzy’s hot flanks – I mean lovely spirit – again. Well, at least in New Appleloosa. I suppose I could try to catch her out on the road…

The mystery as to how Sargent Char Broil – yep that douche was a Sargent – found out about the impending attack was quickly solved. While I had been attempting to drown my sorrows in apple whiskey – stupid lack of guts! I miss alcohol! – Abide had been far more proactive. Apparently Ditzy has a shortwave radio Lionheart uses to notify Silver of when they were getting into town. It has a pretty long range, capable of being picked up as far as the Canterlot hoofhills.

Ditzy had been in the settlement of Recurrence at the time – A Canterlot ghoul settlement in the ruins of Zebratown. Conveniently, Asshat Char Spoiled was negotiating with Mayor Sundae to join the NCR. He figured he could kill two raiders with one flamethrower – his words, not mine – by securing Recurrence for the NCR and cement New Appleloosa's official NCR status on his way back to Junction City. Ditzy offered him a ride.

“This will probably earn me another metal.” Char boasted, as the dead burned in large pyres around us. Out of his armor he was far less threatening. He had a black coat and ash grey mane with piercing blue eyes. Though the left side of his face had a grizzly burn scar and I could have sworn the eye on that side was cybernetic. “So, I suppose I won’t end you...today.”

Gee, I feel honored. “I’d just pop back up in an hour, anyways.” I retorted, “What do you want?”

“True enough,” He relented, “I did want to thank you for not letting my step-bro get sold into slavery.”

“Contrary to my stellar reputation, I’m not a bad pony.” I huffed. I hate his stupid grin. “I take down slavers, not contribute to their craft. It was like Old Appleloosa, but with fewer civilian casualties.”

“Shit! That was you?” He asked in what might have been genuine shock.

My article was not mentioned in the official NCR report on the retaking of Old Appleloosa, but E told me the evidence was compelling enough to convince them to act.

“I don’t always write about corrupt, high ranking, military ponies.” I deadpanned, “Sometimes I take out trash everypony can agree is trash.” I paused and scowled, “I repeat: what do you want?”

“Am I that obvious?” He asked, sporting a very punchable grin.

“Noooo, you drop from the sky and aim grenades at me while accusing me of slander, and now you are shooting the shit with me like we're old pals.” I said, not hiding the sarcasm, “You either want to fuck me, or you want me to do something for you. I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last buck in Equestria, so you must want something from me. Spit it out!”

“Abide says you are heading east. I need you to deliver a letter to the CO over at Camp Forlorn Hope.” He explained, “Since you have to stop there anyways you can–”

“If you say that stupid flamethrower line again, I’ll toss you in the fire.” I spat.

“Fine, deliver the letter. The CO should pay you. Deal?” He asked.

“It doesn’t say ‘shoot the pony delivering this letter’, does it?” I asked flatly, levitating off my fedora. I took a small amount of glee in seeing him puke in his mouth at the sight of my bullet hole, “Because, been there, done that, didn't get a t-shirt.”

“If you must know, it is about securing Recurrence and New Appleloosa.” He said, taking out a cigarette and lighting it with a flip lighter, “We were supposed to report in, but ya know Slavers were attacking.”

“If you're gonna pawn your work off on me, at least give me a light?” I said.

He chuckled and offered me a cigarette. Feeling like showing off, I lit it with my magic. I floated the cancer stick to my lips and took a breath. It was at that moment I remembered I didn’t have any lungs. Celestia dammit!

*** *** ***

I had my eyes closed and was trying to catch some Z’s I knew would never come as we flew over the wasteland. Ditzy had offered to fly us to Forlorn Hope as she was set to make a delivery there and to Tenpony Tower. I’d always found flying relaxing. Abide on the other hoof had his head in a provided puke bucket since we first took off. Ralphing Lawboy was not the worst white noise I’d tried to fall asleep to. That would be Lawboy Snoring.

I sighed and opened my eyes, “Try picturing your happy place.” I suggested.

“My happy place is on the ground!” Abide said between gags.

“This saves us days of trotting.” I explained, “If any of those slavers are still after us, this will give us a very large lead.” I paused as I thought back to tallying the ‘dead’ back in New Appleloosa, there was no griffon body. We would encounter that guy again, I just knew it, “Try not to think about it.”

“I can’t!” he yelled, “Play something on your pipbuck to distract me.”

How about you try adding a ‘please’? I thought, but turned it on anyway. I wanted to know what was going on in the wasteland too. At the very least the music will cover up Abide’s puke symphony.

“–ime for the segment that rhymes with shoes and gives you the blues, that’s right 'The Cashews'. Just kidding, it's time for the news. In light of the lack of death out there in the wastes, renowned ghoul hating, hoity toity, Tenpony Tower has kicked out any resident over the age of 65. Forcing the elderly, former residents to live out with the rest of us in the wastes. It is believed that this was to cut down on undead if ponies were to die of old age. If only other settlements in the NCR and the Lunar Commonwealth could have such trivial worries about ponies dying from long lives.” DJ Pon3 explained bitterly.

I had never heard the DJ sound this bitter before, granted I never had such easy access to his broadcasts. I was pretty sure he broadcasted from the very tower he was disparaging. If he didn’t watch his mouth, he might get kicked out too. I laughed to myself at the thought. Would definitely help E with her business if DJ Pon3 was deposed.

“The Twilight Society declined to comment on the matter. In other news, there appears to be a growing group of individuals calling themselves the ‘Undeaded’ attacking settlements across central Equestria. They all appear to be of the recently deceased, the attacks used to add to their numbers.” he went on.

So that’s who those guys were. ‘Undeaded’ is such a stupid name. Guess it makes it easy to hate.

“I think that was the group that attacked New Appleloosa.” Abide pointed out the conclusion I had already made. I was about to tell him I'd made the same connection when he burst into a new bout of vomiting.

“NCR troops have been deployed to fight the problem, but if I were you, I’d keep a gun at hoof’s reach and the chamber loaded. However, its best to aim to injure and not kill. No word on how the Lunar Commonwealth is handling this new threat, but when I know, so too will you. That’s all I have for you right now, here is a fan favorite song by Velvet Remedy.” He finished, I barely noticed the sigh he made before the music faded in.

As the music filled the skycart, we began to dip downward towards our destination. The shift of supplies sent me falling face first into Abide’s bucket of vomit. Lovely, as if this couldn’t get worse.

Once we were on the ground, I opened a bottle of Aqua Cura to wash the vomit from my coat, the irradiated water causing my pipbuck to click. I was unconcerned about the ‘dry clean only’ tag that was on my wool coat when I found it. Only places like Tenpony had a business like that and I’m banned from that settlement – long story.

“Ok, we just need to find the CO and then we can head into–” I began, but looked to where Abide had just been to find an empty pile of crates. Where did– I looked around and saw the idiot literally kissing the ground. He thought that ride was bad, try clinging to the back of an alicorn during a blizzard – another long story. I exited the wagon and began again, “We just need to find the CO and then–”

“Well, if it isn’t Jibbly Jot.” a gruff sounding voice interrupted.

I bristled at the use of my full name, but followed the sound of the voice to a ghoul I never thought I’d see this far north of the Caldonian border. His flayed looking face with blotches of red and grey was unmistakable. As the wind blew the last strand of his mane, it could be no other pony. Just my luck. “General Lucky?”

Lucky was a ghoul that has been around since long before the founding of the NCR. He was part of another group that spawned from the Caldonian Military – Equestria’s neighboring non-zebra empire country. When the group he was a part of joined the NCR. I’d grown curious about the legendary Major – which had been his rank when he became a ghoul – and opted to write a piece about him. I called into question how a supposed Major could have the acting powers of or equal to a general. Somepony in NCR command must have agreed with me because he now officially held the rank he had pretty much held for 200 years. Now, Lucky was not mad at me – at least openly – in fact he tried to poach me from the Tribune to be his personal publicist. When I declined, he offered me an all expense paid trip to Dise to try to butter me up. I took the free trip, but never took his offer. I liked working for the Tribune. That isn’t the only reason, but I’d rather keep my other reasons off the record.

“In the rottin’ flesh.” he said, giving me a long, hard look, “You look like shit.”

“Eh, I don’t get by on my looks.” I called back, ignoring the vomit that still matted my coat, “I’m guessing you’re the CO of this camp?”

“Interim, but yeah.” he answered, “Let’s talk in my tent.”

At that, Abide and I left Ditzy to do her delivery. We were led through the ramshackle ‘settlement’ of Camp Forlorn Hope. It was actually a military encampment that marked the border between NCR controlled land and land controlled by Tenpony Tower, called The Sovereign Twilight Society Zone. It was separated by a ‘free’ series of city blocks, known as Freeside.

Many years ago when some big shot, slaver, cyborg was taken down, Tenpony had been instrumental. Though in the process they revealed that they had a Megaspell in the tower – something that utilizes the power of the sun. At first, they were part of the NCR. It was like that for years, but after the NCR merged with the ponies from Caldonia, tensions got strained. The group Lucky was from had their biggest territory in a place called Eye Glow. It was the center of a Megaspell detonation meaning it had a large population of ghouls. Any wastelander would know Tenpony has a strict no ghouls policy. So when the NCR insisted on letting their ghoulified citizens into the tower, relations collapsed. It almost came to an all out war, but the Twilight Society threatened to use their Megaspell. It's been a stalemate ever since. It's also a pain in the butt to go through customs every time one travels into the inner Manehattan ruins.

The Camp was built into one of the many ruins on the Manehatten outskirts. The tents were either pushed against secure walls of collapsed buildings or reinforced by metal scrap and rubble chunks. Lucky’s tent was situated on the remains of some kind of garage. I only knew this due to the half burned sign leaning on some cleared rubble near the tent flap. It read 'Sunshine Garage.' I was unsure if the garage had been destroyed in the Megaspell that ended the old world or some forgotten tragedy of the wasteland. Though I suppose it didn’t matter, it still ended up a ruin repurposed as the Camp leader’s housing.

“Didn’t think I’d ever see you this far north.” I said, as we settled into the tent.

“If it were up to me, I wouldn’t be.” Lucky complained, levitating a bottle of Aqua Cura and taking a sip before muttering, “Friggen Gardens, I miss the ambient rads.”

“Why not ask for a transfer?” Abide asked stupidly.

“Jot, I would like the followin’ conversation to be off the record.” He replied flatly, ignoring Abide’s question.

“I'm not an employee of the Tribune anymore,” I lied – I mean it is technically true, freelance is different than being an employee, “Everything’s off the record.”

“But didn’t E–mmmmmh!” Abide began, before I subtly kicked him in the leg.

“Good.” Lucky replied, if he knew I was lying, he didn’t show it, “Major Lily went AWOL a few days ago. I happened to be headin’ to a settlement known as Recurrence, but was ordered to take control of this camp until a new pony can be sent. With this new 'Undeaded' group suddenly causing problems, the replacement could take months to get here.”

“And you don’t want to wait?” I inferred.

“Intuitive as always.” Lucky chuckled, “They were last seen at a Freeside settlement called Fair Flats. It's in some old apartment building. You can start there.”

I gave the ghoul a flat look of my own, “I never said I was gonna take the job.”

“Besides, she can’t.” Abide piped up, “she lost her NCR citizenship and she’s a convicted criminal.”

Lucky just laughed at his outburst. “I know, I listen to the news. I’m hirin’ her for a personal job. It won’t carry that technical citizenship crap an official NCA job would. The NCA has denied my request to look for her in any official capacity.”

“How many caps is finding her worth to you?” I asked.

“480 Caps.” He offered.

“560 Caps.” I countered, “You want back to Caldonia, you're desperate.”

“500 caps and supplies for your trip.” Lucky answered.

“550 caps, supplies for the trip, and we don’t need to get searched by the customs agents going into Freeside and returning.” I said.

“530 caps, supplies, and no customs search. Final offer.” Lucky huffed.

“Deal.” I said, putting out a hoof and we shook on it.

“I’ll let the quartermaster know you're coming.” He said, as we stood to leave, “Oh and if you're looking for more work, my offer still stands.”

“You know she was convicted of murder, right?” Abide deadpanned.

“That means she has killer instincts.” Lucky nickered.

I left, not even acknowledging his offer. If I accepted it, it would mean going to Caldonia and I really didn’t want to go there. It brought up bad memories.

*** *** ***

The sun was beginning to set as we arrived at Fair Flats. ‘A Fair sized apartment, at a Flat rate’ proclaimed a billboard that hung precariously over the edge of the roof. It was accompanied by the picture of a yellow stallion with a red and white striped mane. He had a really punchable face, too bad he was likely long dead. The rest of the building was nothing to write home about. The brick facade was crumbling in places, a rusted fire escape barely clung to the side, ending two floors too early, and not a single solid window in sight – all shattered and boarded up. Though I swore I could see one near the top that may have had no boards over it.

“What are you doing?” Abide asked, as I craned my neck to see the top most floor.

I ignored the question and entered the lobby. In the corner of my vision I saw a notification that said ‘Veil Anomaly Detected’. I was about to check my pipbuck to see what the popup meant, when I heard yelling. Well no so much heard with my ears, but directly into my brain.

“Are my caps not good here or something?” a voice shouted again in my head. I recognized the voice as Triple E’s wife Compass Rose. When she gets flustered or angry, her thought speaking is beamed into the brains of everypony in the room.

“I told you all our rentable rooms are full.” A ghoul rasped back. His coat and mane were all gone leaving the pink skin that was missing sections revealing the muscles beneath.

“The other guy said he'd reserve me a room!” She countered.

“Sorry, miss, but we don’t reserve our rented rooms.” The ghoul explained, “First come, first serve.”

“My good sir,” I said trotting over, “Do you know who this is?”

“Should I?” He asked dryly.

“Jot? What are you doing here?” Compass asked, shocked to see me, "How are you alive?"

“This is Compass Rose, esteemed travel writer for The Junction City Tribune.” I went on, ignoring Compass's questions, “If you let her stay the night, she might write a glowing review of your little town in the paper. It could turn your little settlement into the next Tenpony Tower.”

The ghoul looked more confused than anything else at what I was saying, but after a moment sighed. “Look I really don’t have any rooms to rent, but there is a room on the 5th floor we can’t get open. The locks must have been changed right at the end of the war, as we had no key for it when we found this place. You get it open. The room is yours to own,” he rasped.

I smirked, “That'll do.”

*** *** ***

Room 543’s lock was one of the most difficult locks I have ever had to pick. I was on my 10th bobby pin – thank you NCR military for the resupply – when I was ready to give up and find another way into the room. I’d even considered breaking down the door, but if I was to own this apartment, I didn’t want to have to fix the door. I took out an 11th bobby pin and put it into the lock.

“How are you?” Compass asked in my mind, the sudden intrusion causing me to break the bobby pin, “You know considering...”

“What?” I asked, taking out another pin. Lucky number 12, I suppose. “Being undead?”

“No, since the death of Noted?” She asked bluntly.

The question made me break the 12th bobby pin. I’d been avoiding thinking about her since it happened. Only being forced to relive the day of her death when I’d watched Abide’s memory orb.

“I’m getting by.” I answered emotionlessly.

“I’m sorry I let you down.” She replied, sniffling. Looking at her, I saw she was crying, “I said I’d protect her with my life, but they caught me by surprise with an anesthetic spell. When I came to, the home was on fire and I was being dragged out.” she paused to sniffle again, “I couldn't protect her..”

“It's not your fault, you couldn’t have known.” I comforted, hugging her with my pipbucked hoof.

“When I found out, I–” she began, but stopped suddenly.

Taking it as a cue to stop the sappy moment, I took out lucky bobby pin number 13. I looked back at the lock and sighed. I brought up my pipbuck’s inventory to find the magazine on locks the ghoul in the lobby had given me.

I originally thought the magazine was useless, I’ve picked plenty of locks in my life. I’d taken it to sell for caps later. I knew The Followers of the Apocalypse have a standing reward for books and magazines. Their closest chapter was in Friendship City in the STSZ. However, it was the 345th edition of Locksmith Reader. If the publish date was correct it was one of the last published before the old world ended. The ghoul had said the lock was likely replaced near the end of the war, so it might have included info on the lock in question. For the record it was a Maredeco V12 Lock.

As I found it in my bags and pulled it out I felt Compass’s eyes boring into me. I’m not sure how to explain it, but Compass’s eyes can let you know she is looking at you. Probably some side effect of the psychic talking she prefers to use. I looked up to see what she wanted.

“Did you want–” I began, my question lost as her intense gaze was fixed on the device attached to my hoof. Shit, this was Compass’s anniversary gift to Triple E. I was told not to tell her I now had it. “Right...E gave it to me to make up for the freelance pay cut.” Best to tell the truth, she's already seen I have the device.

“Figures.” She said solemnly, “I’d planned on giving it to you for your birthday, but I’d forgotten a gift for E and my anniversary. You were in jail, so I gave it to E. I could tell she didn’t like it.”

Glancing at the arcanotech on my hoof a question came to the forefront of my mind, “Where did you find it anyways?”

She put her hoof to her chin and thought for a moment before answering, “A ministry hub in the Arimaspi. Why?”

“I’m pretty sure it was meant for Princess Luna.” I replied.

“Odd, Luna never wore a pipbuck.” She said, “As a true goddess of her time, I don't thinks he would have ever worn one." She paused and changed the subject, "Want me to see if there is another way in?”

I shook my head as I leafed through the magazine. Turns out it had a few tricks I’d not thought of before. Putting the 13th bobby pin into the lock I turned it along with the screwdriver the door finally clicked open.

Smiling, I entered and looked around. It became clear that no pony had entered the apartment since the megaspells destroyed the old world. A thick layer of dust coated the myriad of glass shards that littered the moldy carpet. The air smelled of decay. Propped up on a couch was the skeleton of the last occupant, the skull glancing out the window in the direction of the Manehatten megaspell crater. On the floor next to the couch was a collapse box and a pile of empty dash inhalers. Whomever this pony was he died high as a kite.

Next to the living room was a small kitchen, equally unused since the megaspells fell. The last meal’s plates were still soaking in murky water. Down the hall, off the living room was a bathroom, master bedroom, and a guest room. Based on my experience staying at Fair Flat’s before, this apartment was far bigger than many of the other apartments in the settlement. As a cool night breeze wafted in the window, I realized it was the one I’d noticed with no boards on it at street level. I facehoofed. I could have saved 12 bobby pins had I known there was another way in!

“I’ll take the couch.” I said flatly, moving the skeleton aside.

“Wouldn’t you want the master bedroom?” Abide asked, appearing behind me. He had gone to the market on the third floor while I was busy breaking into Apartment 543. I'd almost forgotten he was my forced travel companion.

“No.” I said with a sigh, “bad memories.”

“Bad memories?” Abide asked dumbly.

I rounded on him, “It's where Noted was found.” I shouted, the anger of the ordeal coming back. “She went to my room because she felt safe in there. Her body was found in my bed.”

“Oh…” was Abide's only response, as he headed off to the guest bed room without another word.

Had I not been reminded of his relation to my daughter’s killer, I may have gone after him to apologize. I didn’t care. Why did I ever consider him worthy of a contact? Fuck Abide and his stupid feelings!

“I’ll, um, leave you be.” Compass piped up awkwardly, before heading to the master bedroom, the larger bed more fitting of her larger frame.

Finally alone, I slammed the front door and out came my combat knife. In the absence of an outlet for sadness, I had once again taken to anger. The couch was my target as I tore it to pieces.

“Is this a bad time?” a familiar voice asked, interrupting my temper tantrum.

Turning to the voice I beheld the skeleton I’d met in the Afterlife, his shadow cloak shifting and swaying, and suddenly my anger had an outlet.

“You!” I seethed, “You sent me back to the goddesses damned wastes instead of letting me be at peace with my daughter!”

“I did,” he said flatly, “I had my reasons. This is bigger than you know.”

*** *** ***

Footnotes:

Jibbly Jot: Level Up! Level -3

New Perk Added:

Your Mother Was a Hamster! – Through some great insult or rude gesture, you draw an enemy’s attention to you. Once per turn, you may make a CHA test to force a single enemy to attack you instead of another party member. May only be done on [CHA/2] enemies per combat and only against ‘intelligent’ enemies.

Abide: Level Up! Level 5

New Perk Added:

Rule One: Cardio – Gain +1 to all movement speed.

New Companion: Compass Rose - Level 6

Strength - 7

Perception - 7

Endurance - 7

Charisma - 5

Intelligence - 6

Agility - 6

Luck - 2

Traits:

Alicorn, Dipped – You are a Goddess Alicorn, made in the image of the Royal Pony Sisters. You get +15 Arcane Magic, +15 Academics & Lore, +15 Unarmed, +5 Negotiation & Seduction, +5 Bluff & Intimidation, and -5 to ALL other skills.

Mute – You cannot talk and must communicate by other means. (in this case talking in ponies minds)

Quests Started:

Burn After Reading – Deliver Char Broil’s letter to the CO of Camp Forlorn Hope

Lily Livered – Ask around Fair Flats for the whereabouts of Major Lily.

Home, Sweet Home – √ Find a way into Room 543 in Fair Flats.
(optional) Locate the Key to Room 543.
(optional) Find alternative way into Room 543

Quests Completed:

No Rest for the Wicked

Home, Sweet Home

Fallout: Equestria – Wasted Miracles

by MuseoSansPony

Letter to the Editor

Article 1: Dead Mare Walking

Article 2: A Grave Injustice

Article 3: An Unlikely Hero

Article 4: Shame & Regret

Article 5: Dealing with the Past