Day One - The First Day of the Rest of Your Life

DAY ONE
The First Day of the Rest of Your Life
but the past still haunts you

Lemon Frisk trotted around the abandoned factory, wondering what had been produced in it. The sign at the front had completely rotted away, leaving nothing but the two metal supports, and some decaying pieces of wood still hanging onto them. Even on the ground, nothing was left of the rest of the sign.

He felt excited. This would be the first new place he'd enter in at least twenty years. He'd seen his share of security mechanisms, and had frequently been shot at by security drones, but at first sight, this factory didn't seem to have any of that. From two hundred years of experience, though, Lemon Frisk knew better than to trust first sight.

He walked through the wind-polished remains of what had once been a glass door, and poked his head into the main hall. "Hello? Anypony in here?" he said with his raspy, two-hundred year old voice. No one responded. He hadn't expected anyone to, anyway. What he had expected was a ceiling turret popping out and trying to blast him to gibs, but that didn't seem to happen either. Instead of guns, the ceiling had a very inviting sign that, despite being rotted away nearly as badly as the one outside, showed the familiar shapes of the Sparkle Cola logo. The ghoul smiled. If this was a Sparkle Cola factory, it could be a gold mine of caps.

He carefully walked into the building. It looked like it had been looted a long time ago. In fact, so long ago that the metal door, that whoever had looted this hadn't gotten through, was now practically rusting off its hinges on its own accord. Besides the ancient damage, though, the gleaming twisted metal of the broken lock indicated a more recent, and possibly more successful attempt. Lemon Frisk walked towards the door, and gave it a nudge. It opened inwards with a creaking sound, and revealed stairs leading to a cellar.

"Buck me," he said, voicing his thoughts to the empty space. "That means it's looted too."

An odd sound from below caught his attention. It sounded like something breathing... no, whimpering? Just as he was about to investigate, a perfectly good bottle of Sparkle Cola was thrown at his head. He skilfully evaded it, and saw how it crashed onto the floor behind him and shattered, spraying a mix of glass and sugary beverage into the main hall.

Lemon Frisk raised his eyebrow (he didn't have much choice in which one; he only still had the left one) and peeked back into the doorway. "Hey now, there's no need for that!" he said, his raspy voice echoing off the walls of the cellar. "That was a perfectly good bottle of Sparkle Cola!"

"G-get away, you monster!" a voice yelled from below. It sounded like a mare, or a young stallion.

Lemon rolled his eyes. "Yeah. No need for that either. Look, kid, I don't know how you got there, or what's been chasing you, but it seems to be all clear now. Just little old me."

Another bottle was flung out of the storage cellar. Lemon caught it in his teeth, and put it in his saddlebag. "Will you stop throwing those things?! I'm trying to scavenge them, which is a lot easier if they're not all smashed on the floor!"

"Y-you just want the bottles? You won't hurt me?"

"I might, if you waste any more o' them," Lemon Frisk said, annoyance sounding through his voice. He heard a soft 'eep!' from the cellar. "Oh for the Goddesses' sake, I'm joking! Can I come down there, kid? If whatever was chasing you 's still out there, that rusty door still beats standing here in the open."

"Uh... okay," came the weak response from the cellar.

When he entered, he saw another bottle of Sparkle Cola, levitated in the air by an orange glow of magic. Apparently, his basement dweller wasn't taking any chances. A rusty orange unicorn mare with a pale blue mane was hiding behind one of the racks in the cellar. Lemon Frisk ignored the floating bottle, and stared at the huge underground storage space.

"Will ya look at that!" he said, grinning at the rows and rows of undamaged Sparkle Cola bottles. "Kid, you found yerself a gold mine!"

The mare carefully came out of her hiding place, and looked at him with a horrified expression on her face. "What... what are you?"

Lemon Frisk sighed, and looked at the pipbuck on the mare's leg. Unconsciously, he glanced down at the malfunctioning pipbuck melted into his own leg. "Fresh outta the Stable, huh?" He shook his head. "I guess we should get you a copy of the Guide. Didn't bring my own; it was all melted together."

He looked at the mare, who was still looking as if she was talking to a monster that could devour her at any moment.

"Oh. Sorry, where are my manners?" he said, baring his yellow teeth in a polite grin. "I'm Lemon Frisk, and, as you could've guessed from my deteriorating state, I'm a ghoul. Nothing wrong with that, either."

"You're a z-z-zombie pony!?" the mare asked.

"Careful there, I know fellas who'd go feral from being called that," Lemon said, cocking his eyebrow again. "We really prefer being called ghouls."

"And you're... nice?" The voice sounded hopeful. Lemon Frisk almost wished he wouldn't have to tell her the whole truth.

"Well, a lot of us are decent fellows. Mind you, there's those so rotted in the brain they attack and devour anything that looks more alive than themselves."

He stared the mare in the eyes. "But that's the same for the living ponies. And those raiders are a lot nastier than feral ghouls, from what I've heard."

From her horrified reaction, and the general fact she was still alive, Lemon could see she hadn't run into any raiders yet. He sighed and shook his head. "What's a kid like you doing out here in the wastes?"

"I'm not a kid!" the mare said, frowning. "I'm an adult mare!"

Lemon Frisk cocked his eyebrow yet again, making a mental note to spare the poor thing in the future, lest it joined Righty. He could live without a lot of things, but he wasn't sure eyebrow-cocking was one of them. "I was born over two hundred years ago. You lively ones are all kids to me."

"That's just not fair," the mare shot back. "I bet you weren't much older than me when you got like that."

Lemon Frisk grinned. "Heh, I think I like ya, kid. But if you want me to stop calling you 'kid', maybe you should give me an alternative."

"Oh!" the mare said, realizing her embarrassing mistake. "I-I'm sorry! I'm Misty Cloud."

"You look more like a rusty cloud to me," Lemon said, looking at her orange coat, and suppressing the urge to move his eyebrow.

"Yeah, like I haven't heard that one a million times," Misty Cloud muttered.

"Well, anyway. Nice to meet you, Misty Cloud," Lemon Frisk said. "Let's look a bit further, see if there's an empty bottle storage here too."

"Why would you want that?" Misty asked, looking mildly confused.

"Well, this is a factory, so if there's empty bottles down here, it stands to reason there are fresh bottle caps, too."

Misty's expression hadn't changed. "So?"

Lemon Frisk shook his head and sighed. "I really gotta get you a Guide, kid. Guess we're off to New Appleoosa next, and hope miss Doo is home."

* * *

Lemon Frisk looked at the mare walking before him, wondering what cutie mark she had under these saddlebags. Probably something with a cloud. Names were like that, somehow. Still, here in the wastelands, "Misty Cloud" had to be the most goddess-damned depressing name you could have, with the pegasus cloud cover looming overhead.

"What are you staring at my flank for?" Misty Cloud said, suddenly turning to him.

"It's a nice flank," he said without missing a beat.

She huffed. "I think you're a bit too old for me."

"Oh, now she thinks I'm too old. Talk about double standards," he retorted, grinning.

She shot him a dirty look, but didn't say a word, turning back to the map information on her pipbuck. "I got 'Appleoosa' on here, but no 'New Appleoosa'. I guess it's... new?"

"Fricking genius, aren't you?"

"Oh shut up. I never used this map function before. It's probably outdated by about two hundred years."

"Well, so's mine. And melted together, to boot."

Misty looked at the pitiful excuse for a map. "Don't tell me you actually paid for that thing."

"Well there was only one other map to buy," Lemon Frisk said, a pensive look on his face. "The other one was in much better state, actually... perfectly readable, all folded open... unfortunately, it was also completely fused to the table. I preferred the more, well, portable one."

Misty blinked. "I see. What, um, fused it, though?"

Lemon Frisk sighed. "Canterlot. It's... a mess there. Stuff fuses."

Lemon Frisk had indicated the most important places on his map, including the general direction towards New Appleoosa, which itself was unfortunately on one of the pieces melted into another piece of the map. Stacked up with a nice heap of never-used bottle caps, two healing potions from the cellar's First Aid kit, and with the location of a huge storage cellar full of Sparkle Cola saved into Misty Cloud's pipbuck, they were now trotting in that general direction.

"Why aren't you using your pipbuck?" Misty asked, glancing at his left leg. "And, for that matter, what in Equestria happened to that thing?"

"Fused. Like the map. I really don't feel like explaining the specifics of Pink Cloud to you," Lemon Frisk replied. "You'll have to read it in the Guide. Long story short though, Canterlot was poisoned with a rather specific kind o'nasty, and it does stuff like that. Most ghouls' pipbucks still work fine though. Mine just melted a bit too far into my leg."

Misty Cloud took a better look at the twisted mess of pipbuck and foreleg, and immediately wished she hadn't. Lemon Frisk just smiled, and showed her the monitor, which displayed nothing but static. "The only thing it can still do is give me radio, when I press the right buttons. Makes a really nice weapon though, and my leg's titanium-reinforced to the bone."

"Uhuh," Misty said, nodding slowly. "If you've seen it on the bigger map, though, couldn't you just indicate New Appleoosa on my pipbuck?"

"Huh," Lemon Frisk said. "I suppose I could." He leaned in closer to take a look at her pipbuck, only for her to suddenly poke a hoof in his flank. He let out a surprised yelp.

"What'd you do that for?!" he asked, indignantly.

"I just... wondered," she said, the look on her face midway between disgust and amusement.

Lemon Frisk glared at her. "You poked me."

"I'm sorry! I was just curious how it'd feel!"

Lemon frowned. "Well, don't do it again."

"...you're squishy," Misty said, unable to hide her grin.

"I'm what now?"

"Squishy!" she said, poking him again. He let out another yelp. She grinned from ear to ear now. "And ticklish, too!"

"Stop that!" Lemon Frisk yelled, evading a third poke. "Usually ponies shy away from physical contact with ghouls on their own accord. You? You simply have no concept of personal space!"

"Well I can't help it," she said. "You're squishy!"

"All right, I get it!" Lemon growled, irritated. "Now will you please just stop poking me and let me mark the damned town on your map, without letting every radigator and raider in a ten kilometer radius know we're here?"

Reminded of the very real dangers of the Equestrian wasteland, Misty was suddenly quiet, and with a short nod she stuck out her pipbuck to him.

"I'm sorry," she said, while he was scrolling over the map to find New Appleoosa. "I just... need to act silly from time to time, focus on the people around me, or I'll go crazy out here. How do you deal with that?"

"What, the wasteland?" Lemon Frisk said, absentmindedly, while saving the new location into her pipbuck.

"The quiet. The space. The death."

Lemon Frisk frowned and looked up. "What happened to you? What was chasing you?"

Misty stared at the ground, her eye twitching. "I dunno," she said, weakly. "Something green, with lots of teeth. It came out of nowhere, and killed Big Apple and Spray Paint. Spray Paint was yelling at me to run away, and so I did. I c-couldn't do anything for him anyway... he'd been r-ripped in half."

Lemon Frisk nodded. "And you ended up hiding in the first shelter you could find. Was that door hard to open?"

Misty snapped out the nightmare replaying in her mind. "What?"

"The cellar door, in the factory. I just wondered if it opened easily."

Misty frowned, thinking back to what had been mostly a mindless rush away from the fearsome creature. "Um, the door, right. No. It was stuck really good. I just kept bucking it until it opened. Might've used some magic, too. It's all a bit of a blur."

"How long were you down there?"

Misty raised her pipbuck, and activated its tracking history. "Says here I got there at 12:20, and left at 15:46. After we spent about half an hour looking through the place. So, I guess I was in there for about three hours."

"That half hour search sure was worth it," Lemon said with a smile, skilfully guiding her thoughts away from overthinking those three hours. "You would've left those caps as trash."

"Well they are trash! At least I took some of the full bottles, before you stuffed my saddlebags with caps."

"One pony's trash is another pony's cash, lady."

"Yeah, well I didn't know that. Still find it hard to believe."

Lemon shook his head. "Good thing I found you there. The wastelands aren't a nice place to get lost in, especially alone."

"I wasn't lost. I had the route traced."

"And would you really have gone back through where your friends have been devoured?"

Misty 's eyes widened, and she hung her head to the ground.

"Yeah," Lemon said with a sigh. "Didn't think so. Come on, let's find some shelter around here."

* * *

There wasn't much left of the town they walked through. It had clearly been hit by something less irradiating, but more specifically incendiary than the balefire bombs. Most of the town had simply been burnt down, and everything inside the houses was equally burnt and melted. The Wasteland Survival Guide had details on what was usually left unscathed in a balefire target city, but even that was all burnt here. Whatever had done this had gone around corners, blown out all doors and windows, and even buried itself deep into underground shelters looking for victims to burn.

It reminded Lemon Frisk of the way Pink Cloud had seeped through everything in Canterlot, and he shuddered.

"This one's the same," Misty said, shaking her head as she looked at yet another first aid kit she'd found in one of the buildings. The healing potion bottle inside it looked like all the others they'd found; reduced to molten shards after its boiling contents had blown it up inside the kit. "There's absolutely nothing left in this entire town. Unless you can get into the reinforced shelters."

Lemon looked at the blackened skeletons on the streets around him. "I can't," he said. "And they'd just be tombs of a different kind."

Misty Cloud nodded. "Come on, old pony. Let's get out of here."

They walked towards the edge of the village, where the effects of the intense fire bomb were less severe, and finally found a two-story building which seemed fairly intact. Lemon opened the door, and peeked inside.

"HUAAAAAAARGHHHH!" a blackened ghoul screamed in his face. Misty gasped from the sudden sound, and tried to find something to take cover behind.

"HYEEEAAAAAAARGHHHH!" Lemon Frisk screamed back. The black ghoul stopped screaming, probably out of sheer surprise. Its mouth stayed wide open, though.

Lemon Frisk frowned, and took a better look at the creature. His eyes widened in shock as he realised that its eyes and skin were literally melted away, and, in fact, the whole pony was stuck in its current position. Like the skeletons melted into the sidewalks of Canterlot by the Pink Cloud... only, this pony was literally melted in place, from sheer heat, standing there forever as an undead scarecrow.

"No... not this again..." he said, stumbling back onto his haunches. "M-Misty, there's a gun in my saddlebags," he said, barely getting above a whisper. "Please, put him out of his misery."

Misty carefully crept back from behind the trashed carriage she had been hiding behind. "Lemon Frisk? Are you all right?"

She looked into Lemon's shocked eyes. "Please," he begged her. "I can't do this a second time."

Carefully, she trotted over, eyeing the melted ghoul suspiciously. A horrible gurgling came from its throat as it tried to breathe, out of sheer habit.

"He won't hurt you. He can't hurt anyone," Lemon Frisk said, pressing his hooves against his eyes. "He's just a horrible reminder of what happened here. Please, just let him rest."

Misty used her magic to rummage through the caps in Lemon's saddlebags, until she finally found the gun underneath it all. Getting used to its weight and feel, she raised it, aimed inside the wide open mouth of the ghoul, and fired. The ghoul didn't fall, slump or even close its mouth. The only sign that it was really dead was that the horrible gurgling had stopped.

Lemon Frisk finally looked up, and seemed to calm down. Without saying a word, he walked inside and pushed against the ghoul pony's side until it broke free from the ground. He put his head under the corpse, lifted it on his back, walked outside and dumped it around the corner. He motioned Misty inside as he walked back in. She followed close behind him, throwing an uncomfortable look at the four hooves that were still standing there, melted into the blackened tiles that were paved on the floor inside the house.

"Close th'door," Lemon Frisk said, his gravelly voice shaking. He walked to the middle of what used to be the living room, and slumped down.

* * *

"What was that all about?" Misty asked.

"It's so sad," Lemon said. "Feral ghouls. They're like broken records, constantly replaying, a pony reduced to a reminder of what happened there. And this one, he... he was stuck there!"

He looked at Misty Cloud, tears in his eyes. "WHAT IF HE WAS STILL LIKE ME!?" he yelled. "What if... he was conscious, aware of everything, for years, until his brain just rotted away? What would a life like that be like?"

"I heard you say ‘not this again'," Misty said, sitting down beside him. "Did this happen to you before? Did you have to put a... feral ghoul... out of its misery?"

Lemon just nodded. Misty put her leg over his neck, and gave him a squishy hug. "Tell me."

Lemon nodded again. After a slight pause, he started talking.

"I had a family. In Canterlot. A wife, and a son. We all went into the Stable. Those last moments, when the pink cloud started seeping through the walls... we'd never been so scared. I remember holding my dying wife as I choked to death."

Outside of the house, the sun was setting, its final rays peeking out under the Enclave's cloud cover. Misty looked at the orange orb with a childlike fascination, until Lemon Frisk's voice broke the spell.

"When I woke up, I knew something was wrong. Something was different, about me, about all of the Stable. I breathed in the pink cloud without it hurting, and realised that it didn't even matter whether I kept breathing or not. It was... scary, but in some way, a relief. I was still there, somehow."

Misty nodded. "Your family didn't survive, did they?"

"Blossom Tree's head was melted into a wall. And little Lemonade Sparkle, he..."

He looked at Misty, desperation in his eyes. "He got up! He looked at me, nudged against Blossom to get up... and then just walked to his bed, crept inside, and lay there, his eyes wide open, staring at nothing."

"We'd taken his bed from our home, you know. Because he'd be familiar with it, in the Stable. I walked outside, looking if we were the only survivors in the Stable. It seemed we weren't. A bunch of other ponies were in the same state I was in, and they were already discussing the situation."

"At first, I just thought it was the shock. That he was just like me, but traumatised by what happened. That is, until the others noticed it happened to quite a lot of ponies in the Stable. The symptoms were always the same. They kept doing, or attempted to keep doing, whatever they'd been doing the days before in the Stable. And they got incredibly aggressive if anyone tried to nudge them out of that pattern."

A sad frown appeared on Misty's face as she realised where the story was going. "Your own son... oh dear Celestia."

Lemon Frisk nodded. "I tried not to do it. I tried to keep him alive. He stayed inside our home, and wasn't hurting anyone. That was, until we moved away Blossom's body. He yelled and screamed and bit anyone who came close, and then just went to bed as if nothing had happened. After a few days, he somehow got more used to the changed situation, and just kept standing on the place where she died, for several hours, each day."

Night had fallen in the burnt village. The only light in the building came from the eternally staticky screen of Lemon Frisk's pipleg. Misty Cloud lit the lamp on her own pipbuck to provide some more light.

"After a few weeks," Lemon Frisk continued, "he just creeped me out. There was no life in there, no spark. He was just a horrible reminder of the Lemonade he used to be... and of Blossom, and of all the other ponies that died that night. So one day, I just held him, pretty much how you're holding me now... and then I grabbed a piece of concrete, and smashed his little head in."

He looked up at the mare that was holding him, his eyes filled with a lifetime of sadness. "I can't do that again, Misty. It was so hard."

Misty Cloud didn't reply. She just gave him another squishy hug.

Footnote: Level Up!
New Perk: Sticking Together: When teaming up with another Stable pony, your inventories count as one, allowing you access to the storage space and use of the other pony's items until you part ways. If that ever happens, don't try to take all her valuable equipment - she knows you're ticklish.

Day Two - Live and Let Live

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DAY TWO
Live and Let Live
or die trying

Misty Cloud woke up from someone fumbling around with her pipbuck. She looked up, straight into two sickly yellow eyes set above a slightly rotted nose in a leathery, wrinkly face.

She scrambled back against the wall, screaming, before realising she knew the face.

"Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!" she yelled, trying to get her breathing under control. "A zombie sniffing at me is not exactly a comforting sight to wake up to!"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up," Lemon Frisk said. "I just thought I'd switch off the lamp, but your pipbuck model seems different from mine, and I couldn't figure it out."

"Just be glad I don't panic easily!" she huffed, switching off the light on her pipbuck, and getting up.

Already going back on the previous day's resolution, Lemon Frisk cocked his eyebrow. "That seemed pretty panicky to me."

She glared at him. "I still got your gun, you know."

"Hah. It takes about a week to develop any kind of 'shoot ponies in the face' panic reflex."

Misty frowned, unsure whether he was serious or not. She didn't much care for finding out, though.

"Anyway," Lemon Frisk continued. "Since you're awake and looking oh-so-energetic already, I suppose we're all ready to go?"

"You don't happen to have anything to eat?" she asked. "I'm really hungry."

Lemon nodded. "I took a look through the cupboards while you slept. Found a bag of Sugar Carrot Cakes that seems to have survived the scorching. It's a bit of a mess though."

He pulled the plastic bag out of his saddlebags. The plastic of the separately-sealed cakes had melted to one big web-like mess, but inside it, some of the cakes had remained sealed, and thus, conserved. Many other pockets in the plastic that hadn't stayed airtight contained nothing but dust, the ancient molds that had eaten them long dead and gone.

"Can we eat on the road though?" Lemon Frisk asked. Misty noticed he looked worried.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "Anything dangerous around?"

Lemon Frisk shook his head. "No. I just want to get out of here. If that poor melted guy was any indication, I don't want to think about what might be in the other houses."

"Alright," Misty said, levitating the bag with her magic while walking out the door. Lemon Frisk threw a quick glance at the corner where he had dumped the dead ghoul, shook his head, and walked out of the town. The rusty orange mare followed him closely, while trying to figure out a way to get to the cakes inside the bag.

* * *

One thing a lot of people forget about the wasteland is that it's, well, a wasteland. Sure, you probably heard all these exciting stories about heroes smoking out one raider camp after the next, but in reality, in between that, a lot of the wasteland is dead, monotonous, and above all, boring.

Which is not a good combination if you happen to be travelling with a companion who is not only trying to suppress the memory of the bloody evisceration of two of her childhood friends, but also thinks you're 'squishy'.

Lemon Frisk let out another yelp, and turned towards his travelling companion. "By Celestia's horn, will you finally cut that out?"

Misty stopped poking him, brought a hoof to her chin, and frowned. "Hmm. Do you know anything else to do?"

"I dunno... we could talk?"

"Pass," she said, poking him in the side again, and getting rewarded with yet another yelp.

"Stop that! It really can't be good for my skin, you know. Unlike you smoothcoats, a ghoul's skin doesn't heal very well! You bruise it, and it's gone in another week!"

"You're just making that up," Misty said.

"Am not!" Lemon replied.

"Well then you still look surprisingly good, after two hundred years of scavenging."

Lemon Frisk smiled. "You know the one thing most casual scavengers don't bother taking?"

"No, I've only been out here for about a week. But you'll undoubtedly tell me."

"No need to get cynical. Anyway, skin care products."

"...no. No no no. I see where you're going, but you just have to be pulling my tail here."

"I'm not! As I said, nopony even thinks of taking it; it's seen as luxury rubbish you can't sell unless you go all the way to the Society in Hoofington!"

"And that's how you look... passable... after two hundred years?"

"You just wait," Lemon Frisk said with a smirk. "You haven't seen any other ghouls yet. Well, besides the poor melted guy, but he was a rather extreme example in the other direction, even for a feral ghoul."

"Still. You don't look that good," Misty said. "I mean, there's that spot on your head where you can see your skull."

"Yeah, about that..." Lemon Frisk said with a sigh. "If you ever see anything branded Solaris Inc. Chemical Division... leave it. Really. Though in hindsight, I guess 'Brainwashing shampoo and Cranium Rinse' should've been a hint they were quacks."

"Seriously? You tried out a two hundred year old bottle actually labelled 'brainwashing shampoo'?"

"It wasn't two hundred years old!" Lemon said defensively. "I scavenged that barely four years after the attacks!"

"Brainwashing. Shampoo," Misty said, dryly.

Lemon's head slumped down. "I thought it was just a joke! I mean, they laid it on so heavily with the slogan, I couldn't imagine it being anything but a joke!"

Misty groaned. "Yes, please do tell me the slogan, I haven't quite lost all of my sanity yet."

"Lather, Rinse and OBEY!" Lemon Frisk exclaimed, theatrically.

Misty gave him a flat look. "Seriously."

"I swear to the goddesses," Lemon said. "I've seen a lot of stuff in my life, kid. I can't make stuff up that's crazier than what I've really seen."

"So, did it at least brainwash you?"

"Nope. But it sure did try to get to my brain... by burning through my skull. By the time I'd rinsed it off, well... you see the result."

"Hey, Lemon..." Misty Cloud said, looking ahead. "What's that?" She pointed a hoof to an odd construction peeking over the hilltop. It was made of three big poles leaning into each other, with a sheet of plastic draped around it. The sheet was flapping in the wind, making a rather annoying noise.

"Dunno," the ghoul replied. "Does your pipbuck have anything?"

"Haystack."

"What?"

"That's what it says. 'Haystack'."

"Oh-kay. Let's take a look, shall we?"

As they trotted over the hill, they saw that the construction, which could indeed have once been a huge haystack, was standing in the middle of a blooming settlement.

"Civilization, at last!" Lemon said. He turned to Misty. "Don't get your hopes up too much. In the wastes, 'civilized' is a word with a rather broad meaning."

"How would you know? You admitted you never left Canterlot before!"

"I've seen the visitors!" Lemon threw back, trying to keep up his 'wise old stallion' image.

"You also said anypony who wasn't a ghoul had to be crazy to go into Canterlot."

"...I've read the Guide," he muttered.

"Right, your amazing Wasteland Survival Guide. Let's see if any of the manure you've been feeding my brain is true by trying to use bottlecaps to buy ourselves some decent protection."

Lemon smiled. "You'll see."

* * *

"A stable pony, and a Canterlot ghoul! If that ain't the oddest damn couple I've seen in ages!"

"We're just travelling companions!" Lemon Frisk said quickly, before the mare behind him would escalate the guard's simple joke to a situation in which they'd undoubtedly get shot at.

"Right!" the guard said with a grin. "Well, here in Hayden we ain't got no problem with ghouls, even if they're hogging all the pretty mares. There's some others livin' here." The guard glanced through the bars of the gate behind him. "Well, ghouls, anyway. Can't say we got much in terms of pretty mares."

"I heard that, Slugger!" a female voice yelled from behind the gates. The guard just grinned, and let the two travellers through.

The little town was bustling with activity. Misty noticed that the ponies in the watch towers that surrounded the town seemed to have their weapons trained on the inside though, instead of looking for outside threats. She voiced this observation to Lemon.

"I guess it's only logical," he replied. "Those ponies must be up there to make sure nopony gets it in their head to shoot us in the back and take our caps. As long as we don't cause trouble, they should be on our side."

That seemed to calm her down a little, though Lemon Frisk noticed the guard ponies seemed to keep looking at them specifically for an awfully long time. Maybe they did that to all new arrivals... or maybe the gate guard was right about the lack of pretty mares, and they were just getting some nice glances of his companion's rump.

Suddenly, the aforementioned pretty mare let out a gasp, and ran to one of the shops.

"Spray Paint?!" she said, looking at a young turquoise stallion helping in the shop.

Lemon Frisk ran after her into the shop. His eyes widened as he saw the metal collar around the pony's neck. "Misty, wait!" he yelled. The hint of panic in his voice was enough to make the dashing mare stop in her tracks. She gave him a confused look.

"His neck. That's an explosive collar," Lemon said. "He's a slave."

"Not quite," a third voice cut in. The owner of the store, a broad-shouldered white unicorn stallion, walked in from the back, and smiled at them. "So, you fellas know this buck?"

"She does," Lemon Frisk said, pointing a hoof at the mare. "Though I wouldn't mind hearing how he got here, either. From her description, he was gored by a radigator, and," he glanced at Misty Cloud, "torn in half?"

The unicorn laughed. "Oh, that ain't too far from the truth! Took me a bottle of Hydra and two Ultra healing potions to get him back together!"

"So then, why the collar?" Misty asked. Spray Paint slumped down, but said nothing.

"Right," the unicorn said. "Well, this fella here woke up, an' first thing 'e did was try to run off. Kept ramblin' 'bout some friend 'e 'ad ta save. So I bucked him in the face and put a collar on 'im. He don't have any caps, so he's workin' it off. Fair is fair."

Misty smiled. "How many caps are we talking about?"

The unicorn frowned, "Lady, Ultras are really rare. They cost at least two thousand a piece."

"Mister," she replied dryly, "I'm a stable pony, and I look like a stable pony, so I fully expect anyone I meet to start with twice the price when they start haggling. I'll give you fifteen hundred, all together, to let him go."

The unicorn laughed again. "Well, breathin' two hundred year old recycled air don't seem to have dulled your wits!" He straightened his face. "All right then, two thousand. I'm serious though, that stuff ain't cheap."

Misty glanced at Lemon, who gave her an approving nod. She opened her saddlebag, and a line of bottlecaps came floating out, neatly depositing themselves on the counter in stacks of ten, while her pipbuck automatically counted up to two thousand. It gave a short beep when the amount was reached.

The unicorn caught a glimpse of the amount of caps still left in her saddlebags though. "That seems to be all good and fine for his medical bill," he said, "but I'm not sure I wanna let him go. It's getting mighty busy here these days, and I need the help."

"What?!" Misty yelled. "I gave you the caps! What more do you need?"

"Yeah... I'm having second thoughts here," the big unicorn said. "Slaves go for a lot more than a measly two thousand caps, you know. And you seem to have plenty."

"I may still be getting used to this whole caps nonsense, but I'm undoubtedly going to need them to survive here. You agreed to the deal, dammit."

"I changed my mind," he said, glancing at the caps on the counter. "Ten thousand, and not a cap less, or I'm keepi—"

The unicorn was cut off by Lemon Frisk putting his foreleg over his neck. Misty had no idea how the old ghoul had gotten behind the counter, let alone with Spray Paint held tightly in his other foreleg.

"Now, now..." Lemon Frisk grinned, pulling the unicorn and the collar-wearing earth pony together in an uncomfortable (and squishy) hug. "We're all friends here, aren't we?"

The unicorn desperately struggled to get out of the ghoul's vise-like grip. "What are you—"

"Hey, I got an idea," Lemon said, still grinning like a madpony. "I'm just going to hug you two here, really tightly, because we're such good friends." He pressed the unicorn's neck against the Earth pony's explosive collar.

"I heard of these collars," he continued. "Blow up when you try to force them, right? Directional charge aimed to the inside, hm? Still, I wonder how much of your face it'd take off in this position. Let's squeeze a bit harder and find out!"

"You're mad!" the unicorn yelled. "You'd just pop right with us, standin' there!"

"Probably!" Lemon grinned. "But maybe I'm just a two hundred twenty year old buck who wandered into the wastelands to get himself an exciting end! And hey, hugging to death, what a way to go!"

"All right, all right!" the unicorn said. "Three thousand, then!"

"Deal!" Lemon Frisk said, and promptly let the two ponies go.

He calmly walked to the other side of the counter. "I wouldn't want you to think we were robbing you in any way though." He gave the unicorn a dead serious look. "Notice anything odd about these caps?"

The unicorn, still somewhat shaken, floated up one of the caps and looked at it carefully. "They're not bent. These caps are unused."

"See," Lemon said, "we're on our way to New Appleoosa, but we found a neat abandoned Sparkle-Cola factory on our way. Cellar's filled with thousands of full bottles, and a ton more bottlecaps." He opened his saddlebag and showed the unicorn the inside, filled with thousands of identical undamaged caps. The unicorn's eyes widened.

"So I'm thinking," Lemon said as he closed the bags, "I don't want any bad blood between us, but we need these caps to get some arms and barding. This factory is only a day away from here. We blocked the door pretty well. If you're fast, you may just be able to organize a little expedition to scoop up the rest of that little treasure before any other scavengers get to it. We're not going back there, anyway."

"Too good," the unicorn said. "I'm not buying it."

"You'll get the other one thousand caps," Lemon Frisk said. "This is just extra. I don't have any reason to send you to your death."

"Allright then. Any nasties on the way?"

"A burnt village. You familiar with it?"

The unicorn nodded. "They call it Scorch Mark. They say there's ghouls in there. Ferals."

"The only one we met was melted to the floor. Poor guy couldn't even close his mouth. He must've been standing there like that since the war. It's aways safe to keep your eyes open and your caravan armed, but I doubt any of the ghouls there are in better condition." Lemon Frisk frowned, and stared at the wall, a sad expression in his eyes. "My guess, even if more of those melted statues are actually ghouls, most of em can't even scream."

"Lemon..." Misty Cloud said, hesitantly.

Lemon Frisk shook his head. "I'm fine, Misty. Just... damn. Those poor bastards."

"Ahem," the unicorn cleared his throat. "All right, I'll take it. You promised me another thousand caps though."

"Misty, get them out of my bag," Lemon said. "And you..." he said, turning back to the unicorn, "well, you might want to get a map, so I can show you the way."

* * *

When they exited the shop, the turquoise stallion finally spoke. "Misty... thank goodness you made it out alive!"

The rusty mare hugged her friend, and pointed a hoof to Lemon Frisk. "All thanks to Squishy here!"

Lemon glared at her. "Calling me names? Is that how you repay me for wasting a thousand caps on yer buddy?"

"Nicknames don't count as calling names!" Misty Cloud retorted. She let go of Spray Paint, and hugged the ghoul instead.

"All right, all right. Get off," he grumbled.

"Aww." She cocked her head and smiled at him, still hugging him tightly. "You were so big on hugs in there! Whatever happened to being happy huggy friends?"

Behind them, Spray Paint's face has just gone a shade greener, and he was developing an odd twitch in his eye.

Footnote: Level up!
New perk: Boring Guy: Somehow, you just don't seem to meet any of those dangers the Wastelands are so famous for. You have a -15% chance on random encounters. Less stuff out to kill you obviously also means less corpses to loot, though.

Day Three - What’s the Point of Living If You Can’t Feel Alive?

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DAY THREE
What’s the Point of Living If You Can’t Feel Alive?
envying the dead?

Lemon Frisk took a quick look at Misty's pipbuck clock, careful not to wake her up. 4:30. He sighed inwardly.

He didn't sleep. He doubted Misty had really noticed it the first night, and he hadn't bothered mentioning it, but ghouls didn't need sleep. The reason a lot of ponies were freaked out about having ghouls in their town wasn't even because of some threat of them 'turning feral'... in fact, that rarely ever happened, from what Lemon Frisk remembered. In Stable One, there were inhabitants with several degrees of being rusted in their habits, and some of them were indeed better left undisturbed... but he couldn't remember anyone actually degrading. Mentally, anyway.

No, the real reason was that they wandered around at night. Feral or not, ghouls did that. Because they didn't sleep.

Lemon Frisk had stayed inside the inn, keeping still for the past six hours, but he was getting restless. Very quietly, he snuck outside, and breathed in the cool night air. Breathing was one of these other things he didn't need to bother with, but he just liked doing it. It felt good, and it made it possible to perform sighing, groaning, laughing, and other vital somewhat-verbal communication. Oh, and talking.

Looking around the deserted town square, he saw a ghoul standing in the middle of it, leaning against one of the three poles that made up the town's central identifying structure. He saw that there was some sort of bunker underneath it, something he hadn't noticed in the crowd of the day.

"Morning," he said, walking towards the other ghoul.

"Not quite yet," the other one wheezed, in a slow, hoarse voice. "But yeah, I guess. The name's Spring Singer. What's yours?"

"Lemon Frisk. And here I thought this town didn't have any pretty mares."

The other ghoul, who looked considerably more decayed than Lemon himself, let out a slow wheezing laugh. "You been talking to Slugger?"

"Someone called him that, yes. He was guarding the gate when we came in."

"Ahh. Well it's a bit of an insiders' joke," Spring Singer said. Her lips were almost completely gone, but she had a way of showing her smile with her eyebrows. Lemon Frisk wasn't sure whether to be jealous or not. "See," the mare continued, "I'm pretty much the town's mascot."

"I take it you never left this place, then?"

"More or less. The real visionary behind this was my husband, Celestia guide his soul." She pointed up to the huge structure she was leaning against. "This here... when it was still fully filled with hay... could keep a family alive for half a century in these wastes."

Lemon Frisk took a better look at the three poles. "Are those wood? How did that survive two hundred years in the open?"

"My husband didn't take any half measures, ever. The wood's been treated to the point it can probably last another two centuries."

She sighed, once again confirming ghouls' true goal for breathing. "His name was Brown Leaf. Everyone called him Farmer Brown. He was a smart stallion, that's why I married him. Some good old farmer's brains in there. So when the war started, and people were told about the threat of the megaspells... he didn't wait for Stable-Tec to save us. He did a bunch of calculations about the distance from the cities and the prevailing winds, and found himself the safest spot in case everything was blown to the moon." She gave a knock on the wooden pole. "And sure enough, this was the safest place. It's just bad luck that we were out selling our produce in one of the cities when the world died."

She looked at Lemon Frisk again, and cocked her head. "I heard that in Canterlot, the pink cloud thing was pretty quick. Lucky bastards."

"Coughing your lungs out for hours isn't what I'd call 'quick'," Lemon Frisk said, shuddering at the memory of his 'death'.

The old mare let out a wheezing laugh. "It doesn't compare to a few months of slow rad poisoning."

Lemon Frisk's eyes widened. Being a Canterlot ghoul, he never really thought about how other ghouls died. He just assumed it'd be about the same. "I- I'm sorry! I never realised—"

"Yeah..." she said, slowly. "I suppose you wouldn't. That's all right though. It's two hundred years ago."

She looked around the town square. "So yes, this is my husband's life work... the Hay Den. A bunker with a water talisman, under a huge unpoisoned food reserve, in a relatively clean area of the wastelands. Such a pity he didn't survive the way back here... he would've loved to see this. It made the wastelands a little bit better!"

"They still shot at you when they first found this place, didn't they?" Lemon Frisk said dryly.

Spring Singer once again produced a wheezing laugh. "They sure did. But there's this odd saying... that the closest friends in the Wastelands are people who meet by shooting at each other."

"Misty threw a bottle at my head," Lemon Frisk mused. "I wonder if that counts..."

* * *

Misty Cloud woke up from the warm sunlight falling on her coat. She got up, and walked towards the window, determined to take in as much of the spectacle as she could before the sun would rise above the pegasus cloud cover.

The sun was special to her; more so than to the ponies out here. Before she left the stable, she had never seen the sun, and she was fascinated by it. Of course she'd read the books, and knew about the general dynamics of the Sun and the Moon, but to actually see it was quite a different thing. It seemed so huge, yet so small; a tiny speck in the sky with the force to warm an entire world.

She kept looking at the sun until it became too bright, and began to fade behind the clouds. Finally looking away, she gazed over the empty town square, and noticed Lemon Frisk, talking to...

A corpse.

She looked a bit longer, and saw the corpse move, and heard it talk back in a slow, wheezing voice.

She frowned. That was what other ghouls looked like? Looked like she owed Lemon Frisk an apology.

"Hey, Spray Paint, you awake?" she asked.

The turquoise pony raised his head and yawned. "I am now."

He looked at her staring out the window. "You were looking at the sunrise again, weren't you?"

Misty just nodded.

"Hey, are you all right?" Spray Paint asked. "I mean, really all right? I know how close you and Big Ap—"

"Don't!" she cut him off, without looking away from the window. "Please."

Spray Paint shook his head. "Misty, I know you. You just bottle it all up. Please don't do that; you know it won't end well. You, of all ponies, should know better than that."

"Physician, heal thyself?" she said, sounding bitter. "I'm all too aware of the psychological impact this has on me. Doesn't mean I can fix it."

She looked at the undead stallion down on the town square, which was slowly getting more populated. "But I think he can. He makes me feel... safe."

"The ghoul?" Spray Paint said, incredulously. "You're replacing Big Apple with a ghoul?"

"I'm not replacing anyone!" she yelled. "Apple's dead, dammit, and nothing can change that. I thought I lost you too, and Lemon Frisk offered to help, asking nothing in return! Are you judging me for trying to survive out here?"

"...I'm sorry," Spray Paint said. "I'm... out of line here. It's just—"

"—you've always been jealous of Big Apple, and now you see my attention going to somepony else again."

Spray Paint's head drooped. "I'm really that transparent?"

Misty smiled sadly, and slowly shook her head. "It is my special talent, you know."

* * *

Misty sighed. "I have to admit, you were right. You were right about the bottle caps, and you were right about not looking bad for a ghoul."

"I told you!" Lemon Frisk grinned.

"And you were right about Spring Singer," Misty said. "She really is a nice lady."

It was around noon, and with their shopping trip complete, all three Stable ponies were now wearing some fairly good barding, and had full weapon holsters attached to their saddlebags.

"So, uh... any plans on where to go, then?" Spray Paint asked.

"Yeah," the ghoul replied. "We're going to New Appleoosa."

The turquoise pony nodded. "Fine by me. What's there?"

"The Wasteland Survival Guide!" Lemon Frisk said, smiling. "You guys will need it if you want to live out here."

Spray Paint frowned. "Exactly how far away is this ‘New Appleoosa'?"

"I dunno. A few weeks travel, I guess," Lemon Frisk said.

Spray Paint blinked. "Well, in that case, to survive those few weeks, we might want to pick up this neat thing they sell over at the general store. It's called the Wasteland Survival Guide. Might be helpful?"

"They sell it here?!" Misty asked.

"Of course they do," Spray Paint said, dryly. "I imagine they sell it everywhere. After all, what good is a survival guide if you have to survive for weeks on your own before you can get to it? I'd imagine you could write your own by the time you get to New Appleoosa."

Lemon Frisk stared at the turquoise colt, dumbfounded. "I... honestly never thought of that."

Misty facehoofed. "All right, so, back to the store, then."

* * *

At the store, the preparations for the Sparkle Cola expedition were going rather smoothly. The shopkeeper had hired some trustworthy ponies, got a big cart out of the back of his house, and was getting it loaded with crates to load the bottles in.

He looked at the familiar trio that was approaching him, and noticed their new equipment. "Howdy, ponies. Y'all seem to have squandered yer riches?"

"Got to keep the economy running," Lemon Frisk said with a smile. "Talking about that... you apparently sell copies of the Wasteland Guide?"

"The Guide? ‘course I do. Wouldn't be much of a merchant if I didn't. No one should be out there without a guide."

"Great! I'd like a couple for the fresh Stable ponies." Lemon Frisk smiled. "On second thought, make it three, I lost my own copy."

The big unicorn nodded, and walked into his shop. "By all means, C'mon inside."

"By the way," he said, as he walked to the back of the shop, "yesterday was a heck of a day, but in the end, we didn't trade names. Mine's Capsworth. Might I have the pleasure of gettin' yours?"

"Lemon Frisk," the ghoul answered with a smile. "And the pretty mare is Misty Cloud."

The shopkeeper glanced at Misty. "Looks more like a rusty cloud ta me." Misty just rolled her eyes.

Capsworth walked back to the counter, three copies of the guide floating with him. "That'll be eighteen caps. Though... I wouldn't mind giving them for free, if you accompanied us on this trip. What is yer business in New Appleoosa anyway?"

Lemon Frisk groaned, his head slumping down. "It's become... irrelevant." Behind him, he heard Misty snicker.

Capsworth frowned, looking from the mare, to the ghoul, to the guides now lying on the counter. Misty burst out laughing as she saw the realization dawn on the merchant's face.

"It's not funny, okay?" Lemon Frisk groaned. "I just didn't realise they'd be sold here!"

"Haw!" the big unicorn laughed. "Tell ya what," he said, "I give you folks these for free, you travel with me. That way, I'm sure this all ain't some silly joke, and you c'n get some more o'the haul if ya want. If the route's as safe as you claim, this should be a breeze, and you Canterlot ghouls are supposed to be tough as nails."

Lemon Frisk looked at the two ponies walking with him.

Misty Cloud nodded. "Fine by me. I'm basically just following you, anyway."

Spray Paint shrugged. "Us stable ponies have to stick together, I guess." He didn't sound very convinced.

* * *

"Here we are then. Scorch Mark," Capsworth said. "Let's hope it's as safe as you claim."

Lemon Frisk looked around, clearly not feeling comfortable being back in the burnt village. "It is, but..."

Capsworth's eyes narrowed. "Have you been hidin' anything?"

"No. But I don't want to just go through here again," Lemon Frisk said. He knew Capsworth wasn't going to like what he wanted to ask, but he felt he owed the dead village.

"Consider this..." he finally said. "As long as there are scorched statues standing in these houses, no one will dare to come here. The rumours about ghouls will persist, and this won't be marked as safe land. However..."

He looked the unicorn in the eyes. "If we comb it out, go through all the standing houses in the village rim, take down all the bodies, and put a bullet between their eyes... you will be sure there are no feral ghouls left, and I'll be sure there are no tortured souls that will be standing here until the end of time."

"That's madness! If even one of them can still move, we could all die!"

"Don't worry about that. I'll investigate myself. There's only two dozen houses left here; we can do them in about an hour. I just need your guys to pull the trigger on them."

The unicorn looked at him suspiciously. "Why's that?"

Lemon Frisk looked sad. "That's... personal."

Just as Capsworth was about to object, Misty stepped forward, looking extremely serious. "Very personal," she said. "Please don't press him on that, unless you want to risk deteriorating the sanity of a Canterlot ghoul. We've all been through some crappy things in life, but they don't beat personally witnessing the end of the world."

The unicorn shook his head. "Crazy old ghoul. What if I refuse?"

Lemon Frisk looked up. "Then you'll be travelling on without us, until we finish it and catch up." He glanced at Misty, who nodded with firm conviction. "Last time we came here we were lost and without supplies," he continued, "but now we're fully stocked, we can take our time."

"Well, from my point of view, this just smells like a trap. You could have boys holed up in these buildings to kill us."

"For what purpose?" Lemon Frisk asked. "Taking an empty cart and whatever ammunition would be left after the fire fight? That seems like a lot of risk for a pretty meager reward. The only stuff worth taking here are the caps we're carrying."

Capsworth finally gave in. "All right. You may be crazy, but you have a point about declaring this place safe; it'd cut quite a piece off our trade routes." He looked at the four ponies he hired for the hauling job. "Guys, follow the ghoul. Today, we're hunting statues."

* * *

It was a dirty job, but someone had to do it. And with images of his own son haunting his mind, it wasn't going to be Lemon Frisk.

Most of the melted ponies were simply dead, the bullet through the head resulting in nothing but a cloud of black dust. Some ghouls could produce no more than a barely audible whine, while others were indistinguishable from their dead comrades save for the goo splattering out when they put them to rest. All of them, without a single exception, were immobile, even those not melted to the floor.

Lemon Frisk averted his eyes every time they shot one, but as with the first one, he didn't mind helping to carry them outside.

After little more than an hour, the job was done, and the bodies were piled up at the side of the village. The job had put Capsworth in an oddly solemn mood, though, and he decided to spend half an hour longer to dig them a grave. When Misty asked him about it, he said he merely wanted to remove the grisly sight to prevent more rumours about ghouls, since the mummified bodies wouldn't decompose for years, but Misty could see the big stallion was rather shaken by the whole ordeal.

When they finally left the village, their moods started to brighten a little. So far, the trip had been blissfully uneventful, and in their own way, they had made the Wasteland a little bit better. If nothing else, they at least knew Spring Singer would be proud.

* * *

As they walked on, Spray Paint somehow got talking with Capsworth. Since the other four ponies tended to stay away from the ghoul, this left Lemon Frisk and Misty Cloud relatively alone. Not feeling like getting poked again, Lemon Frisk decided to ask about her Stable.

"Sixty-nine?" Lemon Frisk asked. "Are you serious?"

Misty Cloud sighed. "Yes, sixty-nine. See here, the button at the front of the suit? Says ‘69'."

Lemon Frisk laughed. "Oh wow. I suppose now you're going to tell me the old joke about that Stable is true."

Misty Cloud groaned. "I have a fairly good idea what you're going to say, but, please indulge me. What do the wastelands say about Stable 69, besides the obvious sex position joke?"

"Well, see..." Lemon Frisk said, grinning. "When some stables started opening, it turned out that each of them had some sort of social experiment in it. A way to diversify living and thinking styles, to, I dunno, see what went wrong and caused the war, or some manure like that. From what I heard, most of them ended in utter disasters. Anyway, I got no idea if somepony actually got a legitimate list of these experiments, or if it's just a silly joke..." He looked at the button, and sniggered. "...but they say that in Stable 69, they locked up one stallion with a thousand mares."

Misty didn't reply. She just sighed and looked away from him, causing Lemon to burst out laughing. He quickly recomposed himself, and shook his head. "And now you're going to actually confirm that, aren't you? See what I meant about not having to make up crazy stories?"

"Well, it was actually ten stallions," she said. "We call them the Forefathers."

She shook her head in disbelief. "If that was a social experiment, it was a really silly one; after the first generation, the ratios were evened out again anyway. When the initial craziness passed, they started working on a breeding program to make sure we'd survive without eventually having half the population reduced to village idiots."

"Breeding plans, huh?" Lemon cocked poor Lefty again. "How'd that work out?"

"Pretty well. We still had some, um, accidents, mind you, but overall, the gene pool's been kept pretty clean." She smiled. "No two-headed ponies!"

"Worked better than out here, then," Lemon Frisk said. "You should see what cows look like these days."

"...cows?"

"Yeah... brahmin they call 'em nowadays, Goddesses know why. So, that breeding program's still going then?"

"The stable opened about a week ago. See, it was supposed to have sensors at the outside, to measure the radiation and toxin levels, but they didn't survive. About fifty years ago, the Stable Council decided to launch a big research effort, to see if any signals could be received from outside. They succeeded about a year ago."

"A year, and then opening only a week ago?" Lemon said. "Prudent folks, then."

Misty nodded. "The Wasteland Research Department filtered out every scrap they got, put a think tank behind it, and eventually informed the Stable about the political situation out there. Listening to Red Eye's propaganda and DJ Pon3's reports for several months allowed them to get a fairly good idea of what the Wastelands were like. I can only imagine what it must be like for a Stable dweller to come out here without knowing anything about it. Eventually we all got access to the outside radio, but there's still some references we didn't get at all... like the caps stuff. DJ doesn't talk about money matters much. I heard him talk about Red Eye putting a bounty on someone's head a few times, but since he always takes the side of the free people of the Wasteland, he never mentioned how much such bounties were, or which currency was used for them."

She looked at her ghoul companion. "Even if I had gotten the caps reference, I'd never have believed it to be anything but wasteland slang for money. I mean, really... bottlecaps. Our stable probably has a component that makes those."

"You're more informed than I realised," Lemon Frisk said. "Still, you vastly underestimated the danger of this place."

Misty nodded. "We knew the politics, but not the wildlife. The Council and the WRD were probably more aware of it though; there was a lot of official planning going on. But Big Apple, Spray Paint and I, we didn't wait for that. Stupid, of course."

She lowered her head and sighed. "Big Apple and I, we, well... couldn't be together. Because of the Program. It ‘could cause risk in future generations'. We thought it was a load of manure, if the next generations were going out into the big world anyway. So we snuck out. Spray caught on and insisted he wanted to come along, so we let him."

She stared in front of her, and slowly shook her head. "We didn't even bring a gun..."

Lemon Frisk frowned. "You lost your lover out there? Ah crap... there I am, two nights ago, gushing to you about stuff that happened two hundred years ago, while you're dealing with that? I'm so sorry."

She shook her head resolutely. "Don't be. Talking about things like this helps us get over them, and put them in perspective."

She glanced at Spray Paint, and lowered her head. "Believe me, I should know."

As they walked on, the sun once again peeked out under the cloud cover. Capsworth trotted over to Lemon Frisk to ask him about their situation.

"Do you think it's safe to camp here?" the unicorn asked.

"Well, when Misty and I came through this place, nothing tried to eat us."

Capsworth smiled. "No offense, but even if I were a cannibalistic raider, I probably wouldn't try to eat a ghoul."

"I don't think that would stop a radigator though," Lemon Frisk mused, having seemingly no problem overthinking the subject of getting consumed. "But radroaches tend to stay away from me. Probably the necromantic aura. Heck, it even affects most ponies."

He threw a look at the mare standing beside him. "Not all of them, unfortunately." Misty just grinned in response.

Capsworth nodded. "Looks like we'll just camp in the field then, and hope there aren't any critters around. I'll let the guys guard the outer perimeter. I suppose you have no problem helping them a hoof?"

"Not at all," Lemon Frisk replied. "I don't sleep anyway."

Misty turned towards him "You don't? But you checked into the inn with us."

"I don't like leaving my friends unprotected in an unknown inn in a strange town either, though."

Misty gave him a grateful look. "Thanks."

* * *

After setting up the tents, the group was chatting around their camp fire. The fire kept the radroaches away, and would make it easier for the guards to see any bigger threats coming. They just hoped it wouldn't attract raiders.

Spray Paint sat down next to Misty, facing the camp fire. "Hey, gang," he said.

"You've been talking with Capsworth a lot today," Misty remarked.

Spray Paint smiled. "Yeah. He asked me to reconsider going with you guys after this trip."

Misty's eyes widened. "What?! You're not really considering doing that, are you?!"

"And why not?" he asked. "He really does need the help. I know, I worked in his shop for a day."

He looked at Misty. "Besides... I'd be nothing more than a lovesick fool if I kept following you, at this point. Surely you must realise that."

A sad frown appeared on Misty's face. "But... you're the only friend..."

Realising what she was saying, she looked at Lemon Frisk, and sighed. "You're right, Spray Paint. I'm sorry. I really wish I could be more than a friend to you, but life just doesn't work that way."

"Don't worry, Rusty. I'll manage," Spray Paint said with a grin.

"Don't call me that, Paint Fumes!" she exclaimed in mock-complaint.

"Is that right, Couch Potato?" Spray Paint shot back. Lemon Frisk could see that these sparring matches between them were probably a common occurrence in the Stable.

"Ooh, that was a cheap shot!" Misty replied, before bursting into giggles. It didn't take long before the turquoise pony was laughing too, especially after she started poking him.

"No fair!" Spray Paint said, gasping. "You use that hoof to poke the ghoul!"

"Good! Maybe you'll get squishier then!"

"I don't wanna!"

By this time, he was tickling her back, and the sparring match devolved into two ponies rolling on the ground laughing. After they stopped, they were just lying there, on their backs.

"Thanks," Misty said. "I needed that."

Spray Paint had a bittersweet expression on his face, "I know, Misty. I know." He rolled back onto his belly, and stared into the camp fire. "And that's why I have to go my own way."

Misty nodded. "I understand. I should never have let you come with us."

"True," Spray Paint said. "But if it means you would've gotten killed by that radigator instead, I still think it's worth it."

Misty rolled onto her belly, and rested her head on her forehooves. "Thanks."

Lemon Frisk looked at the two ponies, finally understanding the dynamics between them. "Ahh, to be young, and, um, alive!"

"What was it like, living in Stable One?" Spray Paint asked him. "I'd imagine it getting really boring, after two hundred years."

"It does get boring. There are always ways to fight boredom though. I've heard one of them is pretty much the same in all stables, and even across the wastelands."

"And that is?" Misty asked, knowing the old ghoul wouldn't go on before anyone asked anyway.

"Music," he said. "I don't think any pre-war singer's portfolio can compete with the amount of songs written by Buoyant Waves."

"I don't think DJ P0n3 ever played that," Spray Paint said.

Lemon Frisk smiled. "Not surprising. He never recorded any of it. He just stays alive to sing it. I'm not sure if the good DJ would consider it anyway; it's usually pretty depressing stuff. We got a lot of wartime horrors to work through, and that's just the way he does it."

"Do you know any of them?" Misty asked.

"That depends. Do you want me to sing it?" Lemon Frisk said.

"Yes."

"Then I'm afraid I'll have to disap—"

Lemon Frisk stopped mid-sentence when he saw her face. She wasn't teasing or annoying him; she really just wanted to hear the ghoul's song. He sighed.

"Very well," he said. "I hardly have a good singing voice, but I'll try."

(melody: Rufford Park Poachers)
(Listen to Misty's pipbuck recording of the song)

The colts and fillies all forgot
the games we used to play
All the brave stallions and the mares
died in the olden day

And as we look upon the land
that we once knew to thrive
Equestria, we ask the ground
Oh, are you still alive?

When we first felt the scorching winds
and saw the fires green
and the pink clouds consumed us all
and everything we'd seen

We looked again, and in the end
result of all the strife
We could not help but ask ourselves
Oh, are we still alive?

And as we roam the wasted lands
now covered in the dust
We try to find old values there
of harmony and trust

But as we walk into the towns
that we knew did survive
We see the blood spilled on the ground
Oh, are they still alive?

Footnote: Level Up!
New Perk: Laying Them To Rest: Your karma increases when you properly bury dead bodies, no matter if they are recently deceased, ghouls, or original war victims.

Day Four - Living the Dream

View Online

DAY FOUR
Living the Dream
finding only nightmares

Day dreams are the closest a ghoul can get to sleeping. It wasn't day yet, but that didn't stop Lemon Frisk. Lost in thoughts, staring out in front of him, he let his mind slip.

Inevitably, it slipped right into the abyss.

~~~

Panic.

Lemon Frisk looked at the ponies around him, rushing into the Stable door.

"Calm down!" he shouted, determined to keep the whole thing orderly, but still glad his family was already inside. "We still got enough time."

He was a crisis manager, and by the Princesses, this was just another crisis. It didn't involve parties, or deployment of sprite bots, or preventing terrorist attacks by Zebra sympathizers, but it was a crisis like any other. And he'd be damned if it would be the first one that he'd allow to slip into chaos.

"Lemon Frisk!" someone shouted behind him. "Get inside! They're closing the door!"

Lemon Frisk looked at the pony standing in the Stable door. "What? We've only just begun alerting the civilian population!"

"That pink stuff isn't waiting," the stallion replied. "They're all dead."

"The hell they are!" Lemon Frisk shouted back. "I can see them coming!"

"They're closing this thing, Lemon Frisk. Get your ass in here!"

Lemon Frisk looked at the ponies outside the huge windows of the Ministry building. One by one, they dropped as the pink cloud billowed through them. Wisps of pink smoke seeped through the cracks around the glass door. He watched in horror, then quickly turned and ran into the Stable.

~~~

Lemon Frisk gasped as the wastelands around him dropped into focus once again. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, trying to banish the memory, but it didn't help. It didn't stop him from remembering the rest... the Stable door shutting, and Scootaloo's message suddenly playing through all of the Stable.

"Hello. And goodbye. My name is Scootaloo. You probably know me as the vice-president of Stable-Tec, the company who designed and built the Stable you have taken refuge in. But right now, I'm talking to you as one of the very, very many ponies you fuckers have murdered."

With every word in the recording, Scootaloo had dashed more and more of the Stable's hopes. On top of the crazy war, after all the effort he had personally put into cheering up the population and keeping some unity in the country, there she was, personal friend of the Ministry Mares no less, condemning them all. Lemon Frisk had never really expected to personally see the outside world again, but here was this mare, telling them all that not even their children or grandchildren would ever see it again. That all their descendants were doomed to stay inside until the Stable inevitably broke down, even generations after the ponies she held responsible for the war.

"I hope your souls rot for eternity," the message had ended.

"You're a monster, Scootaloo," Lemon Frisk said to the wastelands.

It didn't matter how it had turned out in the end. It didn't matter that the princesses weren't in there. Or that the door had opened after the Pink Cloud had done its work. It didn't matter that even though there was no living, breathing pony left in the Stable, quite a number had retained their wits. Scootaloo had intended to punish future generations for the misdeeds of their ancestors, and as punishment for the princesses watching over them.

"A monster."

Lemon Frisk was startled by a voice behind him. "Who's Scootaloo?"

He turned to see Misty Cloud walking up behind him. "Shouldn't you still be sleeping?"

"The sun is coming up soon," Misty Cloud said. "I didn't want to miss the sunrise, so I set my pipbuck alarm."

"You really like watching the sun, don't you?" Lemon Frisk said with a smile. Misty just nodded, and sat down beside him.

* * *

"Do you have any idea where we should go, after we get to the factory?" Misty Cloud asked. "I mean... we could just stay in Hayden, but..." She sighed.

"You think Spray Paint needs some time alone," Lemon said. "Get over you, meet some other pretty mares." He cocked his head. "Of course, Hayden may not be the right place for that."

She smiled. "You think I'm pretty?"

Lemon laughed. "You're asking somepony who hasn't seen much besides ghouls for the past two hundred years. I don't think I could tell any smoothcoat they're not pretty."

Misty raised an eyebrow. "You're just weaseling your way out of giving a straight answer."

"Probably. But you asked a ghoul's opinion on physical beauty, so you were asking for it."

"I'm asking the one ghoul who took decent care of his looks, though," Misty shot back.

Lemon Frisk smiled. "Still. I'll have to get back to you on this after we meet some more pretty mares."

"Fair enough," Misty replied. "So then, it's decided? We're heading for someplace with pretty mares?"

"Indeed. What's close?" Lemon asked, nodding towards her pipbuck. She opened the map view, zoomed it out, and immediately wished she hadn't.

The only marked location besides the factory, Scorch Mark and Hayden, was "Stable 69".

"Oh hey, what do we have there?" Lemon Frisk said, grinning.

She shot him a dirty look. "You tricked me into that."

"Does it have pretty mares?" he asked.

"I'm not going back there!" she hissed at him, remembering to keep her voice down for the people that were still asleep.

"I bet it has pretty mares."

"I don't have any reason to go back to that place," Misty protested.

"You mean like, letting Big Apple's family know what happened to him?"

Misty slumped her head down onto her forehooves. "That's not fair."

"Life's not fair, Misty," Lemon Frisk said. "But if your Stable's only dysfunctionality is the breeding program, I'm going to go out on a limb here and say they care about their children as much as any pony community should."

"I don't want to go back," Misty said. "They'd only blame me. I'm the reason he ran off."

"Was it your idea then?" Lemon Frisk asked.

Misty shook her head. "Not really. It just sort of, well, popped up. We both wanted out of the Program, and the Stable had opened. It seemed logical."

"Except for the radigators," Lemon Frisk said. "Hey, we could go and give them the Guide! It'd help them out a lot."

"Another layer of emotional blackmail?" She sighed. "You're too good at this."

Lemon nodded. "And you're supposed to be the psychologist here."

Misty Cloud's head shot up. "How did you find that out?"

"You dropped a few hints," Lemon said calmly. "But the final one was Spray Paint calling you 'couch potato', and you calling that a cheap shot. So I couldn't help but wonder if it referred to some characteristic of yours that you can't change. Like, say, a cutie mark. And if you do indeed have a couch as a cutie mark, and it doesn't mean you're a couch potato for life, then what could it refer to?"

Misty slumped down again. "Curse you for being such a clever pony, and the only buck in the wastelands that could make that link."

"Well if it's any consolation, that's my special talent." He smiled.

"Your special talent is being clever?" she said, staring at the red ball slowly rising over the horizon. "How convenient."

"No, my special talent is basically making the best of what little I get. That includes figuring things out from just a few clues."

Misty lazily rolled her head to the side to look at the pony lying beside her. "So, you're a detective?"

Lemon Frisk shook his head. "I could've been, maybe, if I had been interested in that. No, I was basically a crisis manager. The Ministry of Morale put me in situations that needed to be resolved quickly, and I did that."

"Ministry of Morale, huh? What kind of situations?"

"Um, mostly party related things. Short notice surprise parties and such," he said evadingly. "I was a bit of a loose cannon, but Pinkie had a way of knowing exactly where to aim those."

Misty gasped. "You knew Pinkie Pie? Personally?"

"Pinkie Pie made it her duty to know absolutely everyone who worked for her. I have no idea how she did that, but yeah, we've talked a few times."

Misty chuckled. "It's odd to realize you're actually from that time."

She looked at the picture on Lemon Frisk's flank. "How does your talent translate to a lemon cutie mark, though?"

"Well, you know the old saying," Lemon Frisk said. "When life gives you lemons..."

"You make life take 'em back? You make life rue the day it thought it could give Colt Johnson lemons?"

Lemon Frisk shot her a nasty look. "Of all the crappy comedy routines on Trotway, THAT one survived the apocalypse? Seriously?"

Misty frowned. "Relax, I was just joking."

"I'm about as sick of that joke as you are of being called 'Rusty'."

"Oh."

She looked at the sun, which was still rising steadily towards the pegasus cloud cover.

"You did take that 'making lemonade' part pretty literal though, didn't you?" she said.

Lemon Frisk couldn't help but smile. "In my defense, the name was Blossom Tree's idea. And yeah, I've gotten my share of jokes about that too." He turned to Misty and frowned. "How do you do that? I would've bucked anyone in the face for making that joke now."

Misty shook her head. "I'm not trying to be your psychologist, Lemon, if that's what you're asking," she said calmly, and leaned her head against his shoulder. "But I'm glad I can help you get over these things."

"Alas, here I am, stuck with the only head-shrinker in the Equestrian Wastelands," Lemon Frisk said, smiling down at the pretty mare leaning against him.

* * *

"Well, love birds, y'all ready to go?" Capsworth asked.

Misty Cloud jumped upright, a fierce blush on her face. Lemon Frisk chuckled, and calmly got up. "I think we are."

"We're not!" Misty Cloud blurted out. "Uh, love birds, I mean."

Capsworth just raised an eyebrow, shook his head and walked away.

Misty turned to Lemon. "Well, we aren't! We were just..."

Lemon Frisk laughed. "If you say so, Misty." He gave her a teasing look. "Maybe going to your parents is a bad idea after all. They may think I'm too old for you."

"Shut up," Misty said, hanging down her head.

"Then again, as you pointed out when we first met, I wasn't much older than you when I got this way," Lemon Frisk continued.

"Shut. Up," Misty said, nearly growling.

"And hey, in a few years, you'll catch up with me!"

"I swear, one more word..."

"Of course, I won't be bringing any more diversity into the breeding prog—"

Lemon's sentence was cut off with a surprised whinny as Misty poked him in the side. He looked at her for a moment, before deciding he wasn't quite done yet.

"You're not making this look any bet—" Poke. "Yahh!"

"This relationship is getting physi—" Poke. "Nhee!"

"Harassment!" Poke. "Yeeh!"

Spray Paint walked towards them, fully packed and ready to go. "Will you two cut that out already?"

Misty and Lemon looked at each other, and burst out laughing.

Spray Paint rolled his eyes. "Just make sure you catch up. We're leaving."

* * *

The rest of the trip was as boring as it had been the first time. No raiders, no manticores, no radigators, and no deranged secret project zombie cyborg ponies. Lemon Frisk was a bit disappointed.

Any of those would probably be better than walking beside Misty in uncomfortable silence. Spray Paint had glanced back at them a few times to see if they were still following, but hadn't interrupted. He'd just sighed and trotted on.

"So, uh..." Lemon Frisk finally tried.

Misty didn't reply.

"You, eh, really like me?" he tried again. "I mean, like that?"

Misty looked away from him, and nodded.

"I am a ghoul, you know," Lemon tried again. "Probably not all that good in the, eh, nighttime entertainment department."

Misty sighed. "Do you have to turn everything into a joke?"

"Isn't that what you like about me?" Lemon Frisk said, daring to give a small smile.

"Maybe it is," she said. "I don't know."

"Well, it's probably not my looks," Lemon mused. "Unless you have a thing for ghouls. Then it must be my looks."

Misty couldn't help but snicker.

"There we go!" Lemon Frisk said, smiling. "Talking helps, you know."

She glared at him. "Not fair, using that against me."

"So, what worries you the most?" Lemon Frisk said. "The fact you might love an undead abomination, or wondering how I feel about you?"

"That Spray Paint may be right," Misty said, glancing at the turquoise stallion walking farther ahead.

"What did he say?"

"That I'm replacing Big Apple."

"Are you?" Lemon Frisk asked, raising his eyebrow.

Misty smiled faintly. "Are we switching jobs now?"

"You started with helping me," he reminded her. "It's only fair I return the favour."

"You may be exactly the wrong pony to help me with this, though."

"Well, so is Spray Paint," Lemon said. "And Capsworth's fees are probably a bit too steep. Now answer the question."

She laughed softly. "All right... I don't think I am. I just feel safe around you. You're this crazy pony who can effortlessly stare down a feral ghoul, pull a huge pony like Capsworth to the ground, and squeeze an explosive collar. How do you do that?"

"Pink cloud melted my brain. Next question," Lemon Frisk answered immediately. "Oh wait. I'm asking the questions, ain't I?" He looked at her. "So, I'll ask the question, then," he said, sounding much more serious now. "How did Apple's death affect you?"

Misty frowned, trying to think about the issue objectively. "Apple's death... scarred me, undoubtedly," she said. "On some level, I'm scared to death of these wastelands."

"Everypony is, Misty. It's only logical to seek out safety," Lemon Frisk said, nodding. "Don't think that'd make you fall in love, though." He looked at her inquisitively. "You're not just in your heat cycle, are you? I mean, that could explain—"

Misty's cheeks turned crimson. "I'm not in my Luna-damned heat cycle!" she yelled at him. When she noticed the ponies farther ahead turning their heads, she lowered her head and grumbled. "Breeding program. We all know our own cycles."

Lemon Frisk stared at her. "Right. Sorry," was the only thing he managed to answer.

"What about you?" she asked. "How... do you feel about me?"

He sighed. "Look, I like you, a lot, but beyond that, I honestly have no idea." He shook his head, and gave her a sad smile. "I'm an emotional cripple, Misty. I've been stuck with my own losses for two centuries, and only now I find someone to help me with that. I'm a Canterlot ghoul, you know. We get rusted into the state we were in before we died. I'm not even sure I'm capable of changing."

"You left your Stable after two hundred years," Misty said. "That proves you can."

He gave her a weak smile. "There may be hope for both of us, then."

* * *

"So, this is the place?" Capsworth asked Misty and Lemon, as they walked into the factory.

Misty nodded. "This is the place. It doesn't look like much has changed."

Lemon Frisk frowned. "We blocked the door though. It's open."

The cellar door, which they had thoroughly blocked, was indeed wide open.

"Someone beat us to it?" Capsworth asked.

"If they did, I doubt it'll be empty anyway," Lemon Frisk said. "You don't just haul off that much Sparkle Cola."

"Ssh! I hear sounds inside," Misty whispered.

Lemon Frisk crept closer to the door. Apparently, whoever was in there had heard them too though. The only thing he heard was the sound of breathing... only, it sounded oddly muffled.

"Hello?" he shouted inside.

A shot fired, the bullet barely missing his ear. Misty grabbed him around the barrel and pulled him back. "Let me handle this," she said.

"I can survive a couple of bullets," Lemon Frisk said, getting up. "You can't."

Misty shook her head. "No offense, Lemon Frisk, but I remember being down there. You, shouting with your raspy voice, and rearing your slightly-decayed head in there? Trust me, it's not a comforting sight for anypony."

Lemon Frisk stepped back. "All right. Be careful though, they're pretty shooty."

"Hello?" Misty shouted. "We don't mean you any harm. We just want the bottles."

"Still full, preferably!" Lemon Frisk added.

Misty shot him an annoyed look. "Lemon, they're not going to drink a cellar full of Sparkle Cola bottles."

"You never know! They might be, uh, really thirsty?" He turned to the cellar. "So, yeah, we prefer not having to shoot back, since that'll only damage them."

"We were here first!" a muffled female voice called back. She had an odd accent, but somehow, it sounded familiar to Lemon Frisk.

"Well, technically, Misty here found it first, and got the door open," Lemon Frisk yelled back. "But tell you what, we'll split them. You take half of the bottles, we take the rest. Completely fair."

Behind him, Capsworth frowned. "Ya kinda sold 'em to me already, remember?"

Lemon turned his head towards him. "I only gave you a location with possible profit. Half of that cellar is still more than your cart can carry, and I doubt you'll be able to come here twice without some sort of agreement with these fellas." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "And I didn't mention the caps," he said with a wink. "They might not have found those yet."

"We put an explosive in the room," another muffled voice shouted back from the cellar. "Try anything, and no one will have the stock."

Lemon Frisk's face lit up. "They're holding the Cola ransom? Oh, I love these guys!"

Capsworth, Misty and Spray Paint shot him questioning looks. Misty was the first to voice their confusion. "What?"

Lemon Frisk just smiled. "Well, that's pretty much what I'd do, if I were down there!"

Capsworth facehoofed. "Great," he groaned. "We're dealin' with more crazy ponies."

"We are coming out now!" the muffled female voice yelled. "Any shooting, and—"

"—you'll blow yourselves up in a grand explosion of pointy shards and sticky cola," Lemon Frisk said. "We got the point."

"Uh, yes," the voice replied, suddenly sounding less sure about their bargaining technique.

The three ponies stepping out of the cellar looked peculiar, to say the least. They were wrapped in cloth, covering almost every inch of open coat. Each of them had some sort of visor over their face, obscuring their features. The mare in front was wearing a helmet, her face still quite visible through the darkened plastic. She winced visibly when coming out into what passed for sunlight under the eternal cloud cover. Lemon Frisk couldn't help but notice that between their wraps, all three of them had white coats.

He tilted his head and looked at them. "Sensitive to sunlight?"

The mare looked at him, frowning. "You are, uh... a ghoul?"

Lemon Frisk gave them a yellow-toothed smile. "Lemon Frisk, Canterlot ghoul, at your service!"

"At our service...?" the stallion behind him mumbled through the cloth over his mouth.

"Indeed. Meaning, at this moment, not here to shoot you," Lemon replied, still smiling. "So, who are you folks?"

"My name is Vinegar," the mare answered. "Leader of the Slags."

"Slags. Hm. You don't seem very comfortable on the sunny side, Vinegar," Lemon Frisk remarked.

"We do not normally go outside during the day," she said.

"Because you're sensitive to sunlight?"

Vinegar nodded. "Our tribe survived the war living underground, in caves," she said. "It changed us. The light hurts our eyes, and irritates our skin."

"I see," Lemon Frisk said. "What brings you out here, then?"

Vinegar looked at the other two ponies. The stallion nodded encouragingly. She sighed. "We do not have enough supplies for our growing population," she said. "So we were looking for villages to trade with. We found this, and thought it would make good trading material."

"I reckon it will," Lemon Frisk said. "This supply must be worth quite some caps."

"We realise though," Vinegar continued, "that in the Wastelands, anything found must be defended."

"Excuse me..." Capsworth interrupted. "Can ya kindly let the business pony in on the business part?"

"They still have the detonator," Lemon Frisk said to him, "making this the crazy ponies negotiation part. Are you sure you want to join in on that?"

Capsworth sighed, and slumped back. "All right. You handle it, then."

Lemon Frisk turned back to the three white ponies. "Well now, as you see, the wastelands are more than willing to pluck you like a griffin's breakfast!" He was rewarded with a nasty look from Capsworth, which he ignored completely. "We sort of sold our salvage rights to the kind stallion over here, but he's a trader, so if you're in it for the trade, he might help you out right away. I'm curious though. You've lived underground all this time? How does that work?"

"We have mushroom farms in the caves," Vinegar answered. "With the food shortage, we had tried to set up a farming operation above the ground, but the soil seems too irradiated."

Lemon Frisk raised his eyebrow. "The soil... do you have a clean water supply, though?"

Vinegar nodded. "We have an underground lake in the caves. Not a single rad in that water."

"Hey Capsworth, help me out here," Lemon Frisk said, motioning the white unicorn closer with a nod of his head. "If I remember correctly, Spring Singer said Hayden was the least irradiated area for miles around, and yet you guys don't have any crops. Why is that?"

Capsworth blinked. "Uh, if I remember correctly, it used ta have 'em, ages ago, but with so many ponies comin' to live there, the water talisman couldn't handle it, and the village gradually switched to trade."

Lemon Frisk nodded. "Thought so." He stepped back, to address both Vinegar and Capsworth together. "It seems you both have half of what it takes to set up a really nice farming operation. Now, about that cola down there... I don't see any carts around here, besides our own. It's just the three of you?"

"Yes. This was quite unplanned," Vinegar said. "That does not mean we are giving up on it, though."

Lemon Frisk nodded. "Of course, of course. Where is your settlement?"

"To the north-west," the mare replied. "About two hours away, at full gallop."

Lemon Frisk smiled. "Could you get more ponies here to guard this place?"

Vinegar gave him an odd look. "What are you planning?"

"An exchange of trust and security." He smiled. "You acknowledge that the only thing you'll take from that cellar is half of the bottles of Sparkle-Cola, and guard this place so no more scavengers try to claim a piece of it. We get to take the rest, and help you set up a nice water trade with Hayden. Everypony wins."

Vinegar gave him a flat look. "There is something else in that cellar, is there not?"

Lemon Frisk just smiled. "Maybe. But that's the deal. What do you say?"

Vinegar nodded. "If everything you say is true... deal. This was an unexpected extra anyway; whatever else is in there is your business."

Lemon gave both Capsworth and Vinegar a broad smile. "That's settled, then!"

Capsworth gave Lemon Frisk a thoughtful look. "Yer... good at this. What does that lemon cutie mark stand for, I wonder?"

"Taking life by the lemons, and squeezing," Lemon Frisk said with a grin.

Vinegar looked out at the horizon in the north-west, and then turned to her two wrapped-up companions. "Lake Keeper, Spore, you two stay here. Keep your heads cool, and go get that bomb out of the cellar. We got our agreement, and it is more than we could have hoped for."

She turned to the others. "Lemon Frisk, was it?" she asked the ghoul. He nodded. "Do you mind accompanying me?" she continued. "These lands are dangerous, and you seem trustworthy."

"Sure," Lemon Frisk responded. "I'm not going without Misty Cloud though. We're partners!"

Misty stabbed a hoof into his side, causing him to jump aside with a surprised yelp. "Don't mind him," she said to Vinegar, trying to keep herself from blushing. "But, sure. I'll come along."

She turned to Spray Paint, who had been watching the scene with slight amusement. "Spray Paint, I trust you keep Capsworth from doing anything stupid?"

"Hey," Capsworth interrupted, "the ghoul changed a hostile situation into a guarantee ta ship more than one cart full o'this cola home. I'm not messin' that up. Guarantees are hard to come by in the wastelands."

Spray Paint chuckled. "I think my time is better spent looking through that cellar instead."

After eating lunch, the three ponies left for Vinegar's settlement. To Misty's surprise, she saw the name "Dead Farm" appear on her pipbuck map when she checked the destination. Somehow, Vinegar wasn't surprised that that was how the Wastelands referred to it. All three wondered how the device knew that, though.

* * *

Two hours was quite the trip, and while Vinegar was in excellent condition, and Lemon Frisk's unnatural body had no problem keeping up, Misty was getting exhausted quite fast. After about an hour, they took a short break. Lemon Frisk put some of Misty's load into his own saddlebags.

"Well, looks like we'll be seeing some pretty mares sooner than expected," Lemon Frisk said to Misty.

Vinegar gave him a slightly disgusted look, clearly not comfortable with the idea of a ghoul visiting her people to ogle the mares. "Pretty mares?"

Misty looked uncomfortable. "It's a bit of an... insider's joke."

"We're still going to your stable though," Lemon Frisk added. "These mares are all covered up. Hardly a fair comparison."

Misty groaned. "I should never have asked you that."

Vinegar gave them a suspicious look. "What is this all about?"

Misty sighed, and looked away. Lemon Frisk smiled broadly. "She asked me, a ghoul who hasn't seen any decent coat in about two hundred years, if I considered her to be a 'pretty mare'. Being an honest pony though, I can't objectively confirm that without anyone to compare with."

Behind the visor, Vinegar blinked. "Oh. We are not covered up inside the caves."

"But it's all dark in there," Lemon Frisk said.

"The caves are lit, but our lamps might not be bright enough for your eyes."

"Why don't you have full lighting in there, then?" Misty asked.

"The blue lamps we use are the only ones we can produce ourselves," Vinegar said. "Our tribe survived with only them while we stayed locked inside, and now our bodies cannot tolerate the brighter light."

Lemon Frisk's ears perked up at that sentence. Something seemed eerily familiar about the way she spoke.

Vinegar looked at the horizon. "We must continue, if we want to return by nightfall."

* * *

Dead Farm. Looking at the huge fields full of decaying crops that never managed to grow to full size, Misty and Lemon had to agree the name was fitting. It was clear the ponies of Vinegar's tribe had put enormous amounts of effort into the project, and Lemon realised how desperate the complete failure must have made them.

The cave entrance was barely visible, but oddly indicated with sticks in the ground around it. Someone had tried very hard to hide the place, but its current occupants didn't seem to care too much about that secrecy.

They walked into a kind of entrance hall, where the light was more dimmed, but not quite gone. The room was lit with pale blue light bulbs, that would probably have given the place a ghostly atmosphere, were it not for the light falling in from outside.

Apparently, it was dark enough for Vinegar to start taking off her covers. To Misty's surprise, the mare had light gray stripes on her body.

"You're a zebra!" she said.

Lemon Frisk raised his eyebrow. "I thought I recognised that way of speaking. She's not a full zebra, though. Looks like a crossbreed to me."

Vinegar nodded. "Our community started from a secret interrogation camp hidden in these caves," she said. "After the bombs fell, and the entrance was sealed, the difference between guards and prisoners eventually became moot. They had to cooperate to survive, and thus, they did."

"Amazing," Lemon Frisk said. "You accomplished by pure chance what all of the Stable-Tec projects strived for."

As she looked at them, the dim light pouring in from outside accentuated Vinegar's bright red albino eyes. "We are the remains of the scorched earth, forever rejected by the surface. That is why we call ourselves the Slags."

She opened the heavy steel door at the opposite side of the room and stepped inside, motioning the two ponies to follow her. As their eyes adjusted to the darkness, Misty and Lemon began to make sense of the structure of the Slags' home. The cave was big enough to house a few hundred inhabitants, and the dim blue light illuminated pathways to other caves. One of those undoubtedly contained the underground lake Vinegar had mentioned, and others had to be leading to their mushroom farms. The main cave was divided into separate living spaces by simple wooden screens, each space giving enough room for a family to live in. In the center was a bar with a big kitchen. The orange glow of its oven was the brightest light in the cave.

Vinegar noticed that the glow attracted their attention. "Open fire wastes too much oxygen; the talisman cannot handle it," she said. "We use compressed dried mushrooms burnt in ovens at high temperatures."

Lemon nodded thoughtfully. "So mushrooms are your food, and your fuel. I can see how that can lead to a shortage."

A unicorn Slag mare trotted towards them, making a visible effort not to go into full gallop. The sight of the two ponies seemed to distress her.

"Vinegar!" she said. "Who are these two? Did something happen?"

"Do not worry, Mush," Vinegar assured her. "Spore and Lake Keeper are fine. We have met a group of ponies willing to trade water with us. In exchange, I agreed assistance in guarding a pre-war stash for the traders."

She stepped aside, motioning Lemon Frisk and Misty Cloud farther inside. "These two have accompanied me here. Lemon Frisk, Misty Cloud, meet Mushroom Stew." Oddly, she did not repeat the introduction the other way around. Lemon wondered if that was a remnant of zebra customs.

"Pleased to meet you," Mushroom Stew said, briefly bowing her head. "So, you are traders?" If she was surprised at Lemon Frisk's ghoul-ness, she didn't show it.

Misty frowned. "No, we're just... uh..." She looked at Lemon Frisk for assistance.

"Travellers?" Lemon suggested. "We don't have any real purpose or destination. We just travel around and try to survive."

Mushroom Stew raised an eyebrow. "I believe the term 'wanderers' seems appropriate, then. What is your relation to the traders?"

"One of the trader's employees is our friend," Lemon Frisk said, not bothering to explain the whole Sparkle Cola factory situation. That was Vinegar's job.

Vinegar seemed to think so too, and continued with the finer details. "These two apparently first found the stash we stumbled upon, and sold the location to the trader," she said to Mush. "The ghoul was kind enough to negotiate an agreement between us about the ownership of the goods. For our assistance, we are entitled to half of them."

"Half of the bottles," Lemon Frisk corrected her. He wanted to make absolutely sure there would be no misunderstandings about that part when they got back.

Vinegar frowned. "Yes, sorry. That was... thoughtless of me. Can I ask what else you were looking for, though?"

"Caps, of course," Lemon Frisk replied. "A soda factory inevitably has caps."

Vinegar laughed. "Well played, ghoul. Well played. But I agreed to the deal, and I shall honour it."

She turned to Mushroom Stew again. "Mush, can you find six volunteers for this mission? We will be guarding the factory for a few weeks, until all of its contents have been moved out. The site is two hours away."

Mush nodded, and moved towards the bar, peeking into the living spaces of potential volunteers on the way there.

"This place is beautiful," Misty Cloud said, smiling. "These people... look at them. They're so... close."

Lemon Frisk frowned. "Close?"

"As a community. They're on the brink of famine, but they still look happier than the people in my Stable," she said. "And I should know, I dealt with all their problems."

Vinegar seemed to misunderstand that part. "You led a Stable?" she asked.

"Oh, no!" Misty said. "I was their counselor. I helped ponies with personal problems."

Vinegar frowned. "Is that not the task of the leader?"

Misty smiled. "Not in a Stable. But I agree, it should be. You clearly know your people well."

A smile appeared on Vinegar's face. "Thank you. I try."

"Vinegar," Lemon Frisk interrupted the silence that followed, "exactly how irradiated are your fields?"

"That is an odd question," Vinegar replied.

"Not really. The areas we've traveled through the past few days have been remarkably free of radiation, but I'm a ghoul. I kinda need radiation to survive."

The zebra-pony nodded. "You wish to know the most irradiated spot, then. It is not in the dead fields; we knew very well nothing edible could ever grow near the Shard."

"Odd name," Misty said. "What is it?"

"The remains of a small aircraft, or a very large projectile. Or maybe even a large piece of debris blown here from a nearby city. We are not sure; it is too mangled to see, and too irradiated to investigate."

* * *

While the Slags prepared their supplies for the trip, Lemon Frisk was trotting over the roads laid between the dead fields. They had clearly tried, so very hard, to make the farms work. The clicking of his pipbuck was quite within acceptable ranges for surviving here, but the dead plants around him didn't seem to agree with that. Maybe it was simply enough to kill the plants, or maybe some other poison had seeped into the ground here. Either way, it hadn't worked. The Slags had covered vast areas with their fields, hoping at least some of them would work out. All of the crops had died.

A fair distance away from the fields, Lemon Frisk saw the object Vinegar had referred to as "the Shard". Even when trotting closer, Lemon couldn't solve the mystery of what it had been, though. It looked like a tube, about five meters long and two meters in diameter, blown open across its entire length. There was no trace of anything that may have been at the front or back of the tube, or of what may have been inside. Oddly, it glowed blue, instead of the usual green. Nevertheless, Lemon Frisk felt the warm glow healing his tired undead bones, and restoring the travel wear of his hooves.

Ignoring the continuous crackling of his pipbuck's rad meter, he sat down beside the Shard and looked over the Dead Farm. So much work, so much hope, all dead. It was the most depressing sight he'd seen after the Canterlot ruins.

Involuntarily, his thoughts drifted back towards those final days.

~~~

Anger.

Lemon Frisk ripped the blue uniform off his body with his teeth, and threw it at the door.

"That's it?!" he yelled. "We all came in here, to die?"

The stallion who had yelled at him to come in was still staring at the speakers, horrified at Scootaloo's message.

"Damn you, Stable-Tec!" Lemon Frisk roared, banging on the door. "Damn you, Scootaloo, Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle..." He slumped down, tears in his eyes. "They killed us all."

Lying down, his head in an uncomfortable position against the door that had made this their eternal prison, he heard something.

Thump.

Thump, thump, thump.

He realised it was coming from the other side.

He pulled his head away, unable to bear the sound. Still it continued, clearly audible. Frantic banging of more ponies, dying in the pink cloud, trying to get in. For a moment, Lemon Frisk envied them. Dying out there, as free ponies. As true victims of war. Not as prisoners, condemned with the knowledge that they had no place in the world. Betrayed by the ponies they had entrusted their lives to.

Somewhere farther in the Stable, he heard a gunshot. Some pony had chosen death over eternal imprisonment. Probably one of those that were responsible, unwilling to accept the sentence.

The young stallion who was standing next to him finally looked away from the speakers, and turned to him.

"What do we do now, Lemon Frisk?" he asked, his soft voice reflecting the numbness in his mind.

The seasoned crisis manager shook his head slowly. This was one crisis he couldn't solve. There was no solution. It didn't even matter whether they lived or died.

~~~

Lemon Frisk sighed. He hadn't thought about these things in ages. His conversations with Misty had opened the floodgates on his past, and now, nothing could stop the memories from flowing back.

He looked at the mysterious Shard beside him, and peeked into the wreckage. The inside of the tube was empty, besides some plates screwed into the interior. They could have held seats, they could have held a payload. Heck, the whole thing could've been nothing but a giant chimney or pipeline. After two centuries of rust and decay, there was no way to know. He shrugged, and walked back to the cave entrance.

* * *

When he got back, eight figures were awaiting him. Seven of them were Slags, including both Vinegar and Mush, all neatly wrapped up and wearing tinted helmets, visors and goggles. The eighth, of course, was Misty Cloud.

"Lemon!" Misty greeted him as she ran towards him. The sudden clicking of her pipbuck made her stop before reaching him. "Oh, right. Radiation," she said, carefully stepping back. "I guess I'll have to keep my distance for a while."

"Oh hey!" Lemon Frisk said, smiling. "Looks like I finally found a way to keep you from poking me."

Misty threw him a mischievous look. "Don't make me come over there just to prove you wrong."

Lemon Frisk grinned. "Heh, heh. It'll fade soon enough."

Vinegar approached the ghoul, making sure she didn't come closer than Misty had. "Have you learned anything more about the Shard?"

"Sorry," Lemon Frisk replied. "It's just a giant irradiated metal tube. I didn't see any markings or other recognizable things on it. And there's no specific irradiated stuff in there either."

Vinegar nodded. "Thank you for looking into it, anyway."

* * *

The day was coming to an end by the time they reached the factory. Dark rain clouds in the distance denied them even a glimpse of the setting sun. As they got closer, they heard sounds of gunfire. Misty grabbed a pair of binoculars she had bought in Hayden, and used the last light of the day to see what was going on.

She didn't have to double-check the Survival Guide to see what they were. Reading about them the first time was enough to carve them into her memory.

"Oh dear Celestia," she said. "Raiders."

Footnote: Level Up!
New Perk: Wasteland Detective: It was never your true calling, but you're quite adept at it anyway. You get a +2 bonus on both Perception and Intelligence whenever mysterious situations are involved. Some remnants of the past will always remain mysteries, though.

Day Five - The Life of the Party

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DAY FIVE
The Life of the Party
the shell of a person

"Let me see," Lemon Frisk said. Misty floated the binoculars over to him, and he used a hoof to get the strap around his head.

Night had fallen, but that didn't seem to stop the raiders. They kept shooting at the factory, and the ponies inside desperately tried to keep them away by shooting back. A faint glow from their abandoned camp fire just outside the factory provided the only light in the battle.

"I saw one of Capsworth's helpers lying outside," Misty said while Lemon looked at the scene. "He was probably the one who saw them first. The rest seems to have made it inside the factory."

Lemon Frisk nodded. "I think they got dead or wounded inside too though. Not everypony is shooting back." He took the binoculars off his head and threw them back to Misty, who caught them in her magic.

Vinegar walked up to the two. "Are there any plans?" she asked. All of the Slags were well-armed, but she didn't want the ponies and Slags getting in each other's way.

"Yeah!" Lemon Frisk said with a smile. "I'm bait. Once they're all shooting at me, you guys sneak closer and kill them all. They won't know what hit 'em."

Vinegar blinked. "You are a crazy ghoul."

"Thanks," Lemon answered swiftly. "Really though, don't worry. I can handle a few bullets."

"Pray to the Goddess they are not carrying energy weapons," the mare replied flatly.

"Good idea," he nodded. "Celestia, dear, if you're hearing this... magick all their energy weapons away."

The zebra frowned. "What?"

"Heh," Lemon Frisk said, smirking. "I met Celestia. Nice lady and all, but really, kinda removes the whole mystique. She was beautiful, and amazingly powerful... but her shield still fell. She's dead. If I have to start relying on dead ponies, I'd rather start with myself."

The half-zebra's head slumped down as she gave him an annoyed glare. "You made your point," she grumbled. "Now get going."

Lemon Frisk nodded. "I know Capsworth brought red flares. Once you see the place light up... start shooting."

* * *

"All right," Lemon Frisk said to himself. He imagined his heartbeat going up, and sweat accumulating on his forehead. The fact his ghoulish body didn't do these things anymore didn't make him any less nervous. He repeated his old breathing exercises to get his nerves under control. Another thing that was purely psychological now, but it worked, and that was what mattered.

He looked at the raiders around the factory. They seemed to be busy yelling insults and vulgarities at the occupants. Capsworth and the others had managed to barricade the remains of the glass door with the reception desk.

"Hey assholes, catch!" one of the raiders yelled, throwing a grenade over the barricade. Capsworth swiftly followed that advice, enveloping the grenade in a blue aura in mid-air and chucking it back. The raider's scream was interrupted by a loud bang as the grenade went off in his face.

Lemon Frisk smiled. "Idiot."

He crept closer to the raiders, thinking about how to handle this. He wasn't really planning on becoming a bullet sponge just to get their attention. Even for a ghoul, getting shot hurt. A lot. Not to mention getting bullets in your lungs. Those things itched like hell, and could take weeks to cough out.

Lemon Frisk crept up to the nearest raider. Their attention was currently focused on the factory, but that would change once the Slags started firing. So he was going to create as much confusion as he could.

He wasn't used to fighting living ponies, though. Feral Canterlot ghouls, automated turrets and even guard robots were all fairly predictable. And he generally avoided fighting the ghouls. They were just as tough as he was, and usually left him alone as long as he didn't disturb their routine. That didn't mean he had never gotten into any fights with them, though. The easiest way to get rid of one was by grabbing its neck from behind and biting down above it, and then twisting the neck back with his forelegs while pulling the head right off with his teeth.

Old habits die hard. The raider's head bounced into the middle of the firefight.

Just in case the raiders hadn't noticed the bouncing head, Lemon Frisk let out a frightening ghoulish scream.

* * *

"What the fuck!?" one of the raiders yelled, staring at the head that had rolled between them.

"A ghoul," a unicorn raider standing beside him said. "There's a fucking ghoul out there! Since when do those damned things wander?"

Another frightening screech made them decide to stop thinking about it, and try to waste the fucker instead. They turned to where they'd heard the voice, and started firing. To their surprise, bullets were flying back to them. They heard a yell of pain, and the bullets stopped. They galloped towards it, only to find one of their own, shot in the leg, and spouting vulgarities.

"Shit! Did we do that?" the first one, a grey earth pony, asked.

"That goddessdamned fucker got between us," the unicorn said. She looked around. "Don't shoot until you see it!"

"There's something here!" the wounded pony behind them yelled. His volley of frantic gun shots was cut off by a sickening crunching sound.

"Ohh, fuck me with a minigun!" the grey earth pony said, looking at the ghoul that was calmly walking towards them, the wounds on his legs and face shrinking and disappearing as he walked. The raider turned his tail and ran into the darkness.

The unicorn frowned. "Come back! This ain't no feral! He's got barding! This fucker's toying with us!"

Lemon Frisk didn't reply. He just shot the mare with the gun he'd grabbed from the dead raider.

The raider was fast, though. She jumped aside, and peppered Lemon Frisk's barding with a shotgun. Lemon Frisk shot again, but the raider's own barding deflected the shot.

Lemon Frisk frowned, spat the gun out, and ran straight towards the raider. Just as the shotgun roared again, he rolled forward, catching the brunt of the blast on his protected back. He dashed on and kicked the shotgun out of the unicorn's magic grip. The raider wasted no time kicking him in the gut.

"He's here!" she yelled. "Waste that ghoul! It's not a feral!"

The next thing she saw was a screen full of static, and then nothing at all, as she was hit in the face with Lemon Frisk's pipleg.

The yell hadn't missed its effect. Even in the dim light, the raiders were now clearly focused on their target, and Lemon Frisk felt another bullet getting through the seams of his barding. He ran towards the factory.

"Capsworth! Throw a red flare, now!" he yelled.

"Lemon Frisk?" The white unicorn looked over the barricade, but quickly ducked back as bullets smashed into it.

"Just bloody do it!" Lemon yelled, running along the side of the factory.

Capsworth didn't waste any time. He floated a red flare out of his saddlebags, lit it with a telekinetic squeeze at the right spot, and threw it over the barricade, towards the approaching raiders. The response was instantaneous. The Slags' rifle shots sounded distinctly different from the shotguns and mouthguns of the raiders.

"The cavalry has arrived, bastards," Lemon Frisk said, slipping into the darkness at the side of the factory.

He heard heavy panting behind him, and noticed the unicorn he had hit in the face. She was bleeding from her flank.

"Fuck!" she swore, as she noticed the ghoul. She had clearly tried to escape the onslaught, only to run right into him. She fired her gun, sending several bullets into his neck. Her eyes widened as she saw the still-irradiated ghoul's wounds heal before her eyes.

Lemon Frisk hit her on the side of her head, sending her sprawling into the illuminated area before the factory again. He pressed his hoof down on her neck.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked.

"Screw you!" the raider spat back. "We all gotta make a living somehow."

"I don't," Lemon Frisk replied coldly. "I died two hundred years ago." He moved his head closer to the mare's face. "Now tell me, what the hell got you down so far that you'd defile Celestia's ideals to the point of murdering and robbing other ponies?"

The unicorn laughed. "There's nothing else out there, ghoul. This land is as dead as your precious Celestia is. So who the fuck are you to judge me?"

"My name is Lemon Frisk," he said, still glaring at her. "I worked for the Ministry of Morale to solve the problems plaguing the integrity of the country. I was there when the world ended, and now I see you scum preventing it from getting rebuilt, even two damned centuries later."

The raider frowned, a hint of fear in her eyes. "What?"

Lemon Frisk lowered his mouth to the mare's ear. "Now you know who I am, to judge you." He raised his head again, and pushed his hoof down harder on her neck. "I don't like killing ponies. I even hoped I could at least have saved some of you."

He looked at the camp fire, and saw the body of the pony Capsworth had hired to travel with them. "Who am I kidding. There's nothing to save." He pushed his hoof down harder, and heard the raider's neck crack.

He didn't bother looking down at the dead raider. He just sighed, and walked back to the barricade, where Capsworth and the Slags had long taken care of the remaining raiders.

* * *

"Do you want to talk about it?" Misty asked.

Lemon Frisk looked up. He hadn't taken any notice of what happened after he'd killed the last raider. He had just been sitting there, against the wall, staring at the floor, and Misty had clearly noticed something was bothering him. Looking around now, he saw Mushroom Stew was busy stabilising one of the wounded ponies, while the other Slags were busy dragging the raiders' bodies onto the remains of the camp fire, and lighting it again. The dead pony from Capsworth's team was gone too. At this moment, Lemon Frisk didn't even bother wondering if they would take him home, give him a proper burial here, or if they just cremated him with the raiders. He felt so numb.

"Yes," he finally said. "But not now. You need to sleep."

Misty smiled, and walked closer towards him, until her pipbuck started warning her about his still-irradiated body. She frowned. "Maybe you should, eh, switch that back on."

Lemon Frisk raised his pipleg. "No thanks. I'm sick of that noise."

On the trip back, he'd demonstrated the switch that was installed on his rad meter. These things got quite annoying to the Canterlot ghouls, especially when sneaking around the ruins. So when the ghoul ponies from Stable Three joined them after eighty years, they more than welcomed their pipbuck technician's ability to install an 'off' switch on them.

"Not all of us have pipbucks, you know," she said.

"Ponies go out in these wastes without a rad meter, they get what's coming to them," Lemon threw back. "Besides, I don't want to keep you all from your sleep with that incessant clicking. Now go get some sleep."

She gave him a sad look. "A- Alright," she said.

Lemon Frisk smiled. "You could just sit down here with me, but I don't think we're carrying enough Rad-Away for that."

She smiled back. "Yeah, guess I better not. But thanks anyway."

* * *

Lemon Frisk walked aimlessly around the factory. The dark rain clouds had finally burst open, and were washing all the radioactive dust and dirt from the Shard off his body. He felt the warm glow make place for cold wetness. He glanced back at what was left of the fire, where they had attempted to burn the raiders' bodies. They'd probably bury the remains in the morning. Right now, though, nopony (or albino zebrony, for that matter) had any intention of coming out of the dry building. Except for Lemon Frisk.

He'd killed before... or, at least, he didn't feel much difference between killing rabid Canterlot ghouls and mad raiders. But that last mare had really shaken him. He'd been judge, jury and executioner, all in one. That wasn't the part that really bothered him, though. The part that bothered him was that it didn't matter to the rest of the world. There was no authority to take care of them. Ponies like Capsworth welcomed it. The wastelands couldn't care less who died, by whose hooves.

"How do you deal with that?" Misty had asked him, when they'd first met. "The quiet. The space. The death."

Lemon Frisk sighed. She'd been asking the wrong pony. He'd never really dealt with it before now.

When he walked back into the factory, he was soaked to the bone. Probably literally. He unstrapped his barding and saddlebags, switched his radmeter back on, and, seeing that it had stopped ticking, joined the Slags around the camp fire they'd made inside the entrance hall. This was the first time he saw them in the bright light of the camp fire, without the rags, visors or helmets.

"This is all wrong," he mumbled, as he sat down beside the camp fire.

"What is?" Mush asked.

"This whole world," Lemon replied, shaking his head. "These wastelands."

Mush smirked. "Yes, well, tell us something we do not know."

"Pinkie Pie invented chimicherrychanga," Lemon Frisk said, trying to smile. "Bet you didn't know that. Good stuff. Been centuries since I ate that."

Mush laughed softly. "Well, that was a useless bit of information. Unless you have the recipe."

Lemon Frisk tilted his head, thinking. "I think I could remember that. Good luck finding the cherries though."

"You are an odd one," one of the other Slags remarked.

"No, just say it like everypony else does," Lemon Frisk said, smiling. "I'm a crazy ghoul."

"One of the nicer ones, though," Mush said with a smile.

Lemon Frisk looked at the place where Misty was sleeping, and sighed. "I guess. But that's not enough, is it? To fix these damned wastelands, nice is not enough."

Mush's smile didn't waver. "No. but sometimes, to be nice is the first step."

Lemon Frisk got up, shook the remaining water out of what remained of his coat and mane, and looked at Mush. "You know, that's pretty good advice, actually," he said. "I think I'll do that."

He walked over to Misty, sat down beside her, and carefully put his foreleg around her shoulders.

* * *

Misty woke up from the sound of bottles rattling in boxes. The sun had long passed the cloud layer, which was now a bright white, and no longer pouring out rain. She felt a familiar leg around her neck, and smiled.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"Around noon," Lemon Frisk replied. "You looked like you needed your sleep, though, so I made sure they wouldn't wake you up."

"Tsk. We could've helped them out," Misty said, slowly getting up on all fours.

"Technically, our involvement ended the moment we arrived here with them."

"Not really. Capsworth said we could take some of the stuff for ourselves," Misty said. "Shall we find out which half we can take that from?"

Lemon Frisk smiled. "Oh, very well."

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty and the Beast," Spray Paint said, walking towards them. "Finally woken up?"

"Up and ready to go!" Misty said cheerfully. Then she remembered the conversation they'd had around the camp fire. "Oh. I guess this is, uh, goodbye then?"

"I guess so," Spray Paint said. "You're really going back to the Stable?"

Misty threw a glance at Lemon Frisk, and sighed. "Yes, we're going back. I owe Big Apple that much. That doesn't mean I'm staying there, though."

Spray Paint nodded. "Right. Uh... just tell my mom I'm all right, okay?"

"And your dad?" Misty asked.

Spray Paint grinned. "Screw that jackass. And feel free to tell him I said that."

"Will do," she said, mimicking his grin. "Oh, we want to take some gifts with us. You know. Capsworth said we could take some."

Spray Paint gave them a sly smile. "I've been looking around the storage rooms behind the cellar a bit. Found some special stuff there. Come take a look!"

The two ponies followed Spray Paint into the cellar, and were guided into one of the back rooms.

"This was locked when we looked around here," Lemon Frisk remarked.

Spray Paint nodded. "Capsworth opened it. He's pretty good with locks, apparently. Wrench told me he used to be a scavenger himself, before he settled in Hayden."

"Nice," Lemon said. "Who's Wrench?"

Spray Paint frowned. "Wrench Twist. He's the guy the raiders got. We talked a bit on the way here."

"Oh," Lemon said. "I'm sorry."

"Anyway," Spray Paint said, drawing their attention to a closed wooden case, "Capsworth may have opened the door, but he left me to sort this out. And look what I found!" He opened the case, and grabbed one of the bottles inside it at the neck with his mouth. "Fretty niffy, ainf if?" he said, showing it to them. The bottle held a rainbow-coloured liquid, and the label proudly proclaimed it to be 'Sparkle~Cola Rainbow Crash!'. A smaller text below it further elaborating that it was 'Made with REAL Zap Apples!'.

"I'd say! Pretty nifty indeed," Lemon Frisk said, admiring Spray Paint's find. "I'm not sure if they even released that stuff. I remember Rainbow Dash taking issue with the name, or something like that."

"So... there's twelve bottles in there," Misty said. "Two bottles each?"

Spray Paint put the bottle back. "Depends if you're letting your zebroid friends in on this."

Lemon nodded. "Better not take any unnecessary risks there. I did say they'd get half of all the bottles. Caps can always do his best to swindle these out of them if he wants them so badly. I say we just take one each, for now, and then discuss it with them." He looked back to the door. "Did you find the bottlecaps?"

"Oh yeah," Spray Paint replied. "We got a big bag full of those things. Hurray for devaluating the wasteland currency."

Lemon Frisk snickered. "Misty mentioned the Stable being able to produce those."

Spray Paint shook his head. "Money forgery in the wastelands? Don't go there. That's a train of thought that will end in a fiery train wreck, one way or another."

"Yeah, I was thinking that too," Lemon said. "Misty, can you take two bottles? My saddlebags are still in the hall."

Misty nodded, put two of the bottles into her saddlebags, and floated the whole crate with them. In the factory entrance hall, they were greeted by Capsworth and Vinegar.

"What do we got here?" Capsworth asked.

"Some special stuff," Lemon Frisk said. "Misty already took two bottles for us. You'll have to fight out whether that comes from your half."

Behind her helmet visor, Vinegar raised an eyebrow. "There is hardly need for conflict here. You helped us, take your reward. We will divide what is left."

"In that case, I think I'll take two for myself," Lemon Frisk said, grabbing two of the bottles in his muzzle and walking over to his saddlebags. Capsworth gave him an odd look, but didn't say anything.

After putting the bottles into his bags, he put on the barding and saddlebags, with the surprising ease with which all earth ponies manipulated the world around them. He effortlessly pulled them on his back and fastened all the straps and buckles with his mouth. Misty watched him, visibly surprised at the speed with which he could do that.

"Wow," she said. "That's almost faster than I can do that with my magic."

"You won't see me getting lazy just because I'm travelling with a unicorn," he said, smiling. He looked around at the site. "So, I guess this is it, then?"

"No way," Misty said. "I kinda need food, and Rad-Away, and all that. Capsworth said we'd get caps, so I'm claiming caps."

* * *

After getting a few more bottles of Sparkle Cola and about a thousand caps from Capsworth, and saying their goodbyes to everyone, Misty and Lemon finally left the factory grounds. They headed east, towards Stable 69.

"So..." Misty said. "You want talk about it now?"

Lemon Frisk smiled. "Not really. I had a good chat with our Slag friends after you went to sleep."

Misty gave him a sly smile. "You know the alternative!"

"Oh, come on," he said, unable to suppress his own smile. "Do you have to use threats of physical abuse to get your way every time?"

"Apparently," Misty said with a grin. "Or maybe that's what you want me to do? Hmm?"

"Antagonising a crazy ghoul is never a good idea, you know!"

"Oh, I can take you," Misty shot back. "You're ticklish."

"Sure. Let every raider in the wasteland know my fatal weakness."

Misty frowned. "Seriously, though. Something happened there that seems to have shaken you quite a bit."

Lemon Frisk sighed. "I knew the wastelands were bad. Heck, I knew raiders were bad. But I didn't expect that damned mare to even bother to rationalise it. It just made it worse, somehow."

"You talked to one of the raiders? What did she say?" Misty asked.

"Basically, that Celestia's ideals are as dead as she is, out here in the wastelands," Lemon Frisk said, staring at the ground. "That it doesn't even matter whether you kill somepony or trade with them. That in the end, nothing changes, no matter what you do."

"Do you believe that?"

"No, but that doesn't make it any less depressing that some do. It helped to hear Mush's view on it, though." He smiled at her. "She said a little kindness can go a long way in this place. I think she's right. We helped to set up trade between two communities. Heck, with some luck, we can get your Stable involved too. That has to count for something."

"Making the wasteland a little bit better, hm?" Misty said, quoting the ghoul from Hayden.

"Indeed," Lemon Frisk said with a smile. "Just add a lot of little bits together, and we might just get there."

As they walked up a hill, the ruins of a mighty city appeared at the horizon. Closer by, in the rocky side of what seemed like an exhausted gravel extraction pit, they could see the familiar cog wheel shape of a Stable entrance.

"Whinnyapolis," Lemon Frisk said, staring at the ruins in the distance. "Right?"

Misty nodded. "Quite a sight, huh? An entire city reduced to rubble. I can only imagine what it must've been like before the war."

Lemon swallowed. He didn't have to imagine; he'd known the city really well. Blossom Tree was born there. He only had to close his eyes to see the mighty buildings rising towards the heavens. And now, barely any buildings were still standing upright. Entire skyscrapers lay down, crashed into the streets and onto the nearest suburbs. The few remaining ones leaned precariously against each other, giving the city the impression of a construction of toppled domino stones in which some had refused to fall. The center of the city emitted an eery green glow.

He'd never seen a balefire target before. He always imagined other cities to be like Canterlot... decayed, but with a lot still standing upright. Of course, the center of Canterlot was comprised of Ministry buildings which were magically protected against decay, and the rest was never actually hit by anything except the pink cloud. The decompression explosion that had happened when the Princesses' shield had failed had done quite some damage, and the pink cloud made everything decay faster, but it just couldn't compare to the sheer chaos of a city blown up with a balefire megaspell.

He shuddered involuntarily. "Let's just go to your stable."

* * *

What had appeared as a wide open area before the stable was in fact quite a bit harder to navigate. The clear open road to the stable was made in the direction of Whinnyapolis. Neither of them felt like making a detour that would bring them closer to the dead city, so they were making their way through the gravel that was bulldozered aside to get to the sturdy rock. The route suggested by Misty's pipbuck brought them closer to the rock wall before following it to the Stable door.

They passed the remains of the original gravel extraction site. Several steel shacks were pushed aside together with the rest to make way for the Stable, and were simply left there, half-buried in gravel. Passing around the last of these shacks, they finally reached the door.

"Who's there?!" a guard yelled at them. He was wearing a battle saddle with a heavy rifle installed on it.

Misty's face brightened. "Winter Gale? Is that you?" She ran out to the white earth pony. "It's me, Misty!"

Winter Gale gasped. "You're back! It's really you! We thought you—" He interrupted his sentence when he saw a movement behind her. "Look out! Behind you!"

Misty and Lemon Frisk both looked back, only to find nothing behind them. Too late, they realised what the white pony was yelling about.

The bullet hit Lemon Frisk in the chest, ripping straight through his barding and piercing through both his lungs. Because he had turned to look behind him, the bullet blew out of his right side, just before his hind leg. The barding and saddlebag at the exit wound were violently torn loose from the sheer impact on the inside of the armour. Lemon Frisk turned his head and looked at Misty with a shocked expression, before falling over to the left. His barding and saddlebags swung over his back when he hit the ground, revealing the nasty exit wound that barely missed his cutie mark.

"Lemon!!" Misty screamed. She turned towards Winter Gale, magically wrenched the gun from the pony's battle saddle, and smacked it violently against the side of the door, before shifting her focus onto the fallen ghoul.

Lemon Frisk looked at the scene unfolding before him, the whole world reduced to slow motion. Stray thoughts flashed through his mind, but somehow the pain made it hard to choose one to focus on. "Did she really just bend that gun over a stable door with her telekinesis?" was the first one. It was quickly followed by "Woah. I've been shot" and "That guy looks really scared to death of me." Finally, it settled on "Damn, this hurts. A lot."

He tried to say something, only to find out that his throat could produce nothing but a shallow gurgling sound. "Right. Both lungs are pierced," he realised. He saw Misty levitate a healing potion from her saddlebag, and bringing it to his mouth.

"Swallow, dammit!" she yelled at him. He realised that without breathing or a heartbeat, she probably didn't even know if he was still alive.

Lemon Frisk blinked. "Swallow?" he thought. "No, too slow."

Resisting his automatic reflex to cough, he let the potion leak into his lungs, allowing it to directly heal the damage that was hindering him the most right now. He pulled his mouth away when it was half empty, and after keeping the liquid in there for about half a minute, he finally allowed his lungs to cough it up.

"Lemon?" Misty asked, unsure how to react when seeing the potion come back out.

"Uhuh," Lemon Frisk said, his voice even raspier than normal. "Lungs are okay now. Gimme the rest."

She nodded, and floated the bottle to his mouth again, allowing him to drink the remaining half.

He rested his head on the cold gravel, and let out a sigh.

Behind Misty, Winter Gale carefully crept closer, apparently realising he'd made a mistake. Lemon Frisk smiled at him. "Kid..." he said, slowly. "We're gonna be the best of friends."

Realising whom he was talking to, Misty turned around to the white pony. "Get some help, dammit!" she yelled at him.

* * *

"I'd like to tell you he's okay," the doctor said, "but every machine I got here tells me he's stone cold dead."

Lemon Frisk was lying on a stretcher in the Stable's Medical Bay. He grinned. "Must be broken then," he said, getting off the stretcher. "I feel just fine."

He'd been carried inside and given another healing potion, which had really been all he needed. The doctor had insisted on examining him nonetheless. Needless to say, the results of the examination were inconclusive.

"I guess you've never seen a ghoul before," Lemon Frisk said. "Poor guy at the door clearly had though. I gather he was sent out to explore the city?"

The doctor blinked. "Winter Gale? Right. They were ambushed by what he described as 'dead monster ponies'. He was the only one who made it back, and when he was tasked to guard the door instead, he got himself the biggest gun we had in the Stable." He glanced at Misty. "Not a good time to lose our Stable's psychological support."

Lemon Frisk shook his head. "No use anyway. You'd need a stable full of psychologists to get over the stuff that's out there." He looked around. "Where did they put my saddlebags?"

"Uh, they're being cleaned," Misty said. "There was a nasty stain on them."

Lemon risk rolled his eyes. "On the inside. Not like you'd even see it. Well, give me your guide, then."

Misty nodded, and floated out her copy of the Wasteland Survival Guide. "Here, Doc. That'll spare a lot of future traumas, and lives. I suggest you get it to the WRD as soon as possible."

The Doctor looked at the odd book, and skimmed through it. "This is... amazing," he said, and looked up to Lemon Frisk. "Where did you get this?"

"Bought it in a settlement in the wastes," Lemon Frisk replied. "It's the result of a lifetime of experience, from someone who's about my age."

The doctor looked up. "And what is your age?"

"I've seen Whinnyapolis when the only things glowing and green were its grassy hills in the morning sun."

The doctor blinked. "Wow." He turned to the book again. "So this is written by a ghoul like you?"

"I doubt Ditzy Doo is anything like me. She traveled through this dump for the past two hundred years, helping wherever she could, while I was sitting on my hooves in Dead Canterlot. She's a bit of a celebrity out there."

The Doctor smiled. "Well, she's about to become a celebrity in this stable, too. I'll go drop this off, okay? Misty, you know the way, you can let yourselves out." With that, Doc trotted off.

* * *

"Well. Here we are. Stable sixty-nine," Lemon said, looking out of the medical bay's window. "Every stallion's fantasies dashed. Looks like the joke's on the wastelands."

Misty laughed. "Until you hear its history, that is. Though if you want to hear about that, you'll probably have to ask my dad. He's a teacher."

"Oh, that's right," Lemon Frisk said with a sly grin. "We came here to visit your parents and look at pretty mares."

"And to talk to Big Apple's parents," Misty said, hanging her head.

"From what the doc said, it seems there are more wasteland victims already," Lemon Frisk said. "Besides, you brought them the Guide. He didn't die for nothing."

"If I hadn't come back, he would have," Misty said, her head still hanging low. "I'm sorry."

"Chin up, little pony. Let's get this over with."

* * *

"Lemon?" Misty said, as they made their way to the living quarters of Big Apple's parent.

"Yeah?" Lemon Frisk replied.

"I think I... better do this alone," she said. "Ponies aren't really used to you yet, and all, and with the news I'm bringing them, I don't want to scare them in advance."

"So what am I supposed to do, then?"

"You know the Stable layout, yes?" Misty asked. Lemon nodded; all stables were built in pretty much the same way. "Well," she continued, "school's just about to end. If you hurry, you'll still find my father there. Red stallion, blue and white mane, chalkboard cutie mark. Can't miss him."

"All right," Lemon Frisk said. "So will you give me a name to call him too, or should I just call him 'dad'?"

"Whuh- No!" she yelled, blushing fiercely. "His name is Hailstorm."

"Hailstorm? What's the deal with that? You got an entire stable without a single pegasus, and everypony has a weather-related name."

"It's a bit of a... tribute," Misty said. "Stable history. Ask my dad about it. Now get going, or you'll miss him!"

"Right. Um, good luck with Big Apple's parents."

"Thanks."

The orange mare trotted off into the corridor, leaving Lemon Frisk alone with his thoughts.

"Wait, did you say 'school'? Maybe that isn—"

His words were cut off by the hiss of the automatic door closing behind Misty.

Lemon Frisk sighed. "All right. Next order of business is apparently scaring little foals with my appearance."

* * *

"Are you feeling okay, mister? You don't look okay."

Lemon Frisk smiled at the young colt that had curiously trotted up to him. Lemon was standing in the school yard just outside the actual classroom. Through the classroom window, he could see the red-coated unicorn teacher cleaning up the room and collecting his books. He decided it wouldn't hurt to talk with the curious kid for a bit, until Misty's dad was ready.

"Actually, I just came from the doctor's office," he said with a grin. "He said it's nothing to worry about."

The colt frowned. "Really?"

"No, he really said I was 'stone cold dead'. But I feel fine anyway."

The colt smiled. "You're just joking now."

Lemon Frisk looked at the colt with wide enthusiastic eyes. "Oh, no! He really said that! You see, I'm a ghoul pony from the Wastelands. So I'm kinda dead. But not really."

The Colt looked unsure now. "Ghoul? That's like zombies, right? They say zombie ponies ate Apple Crisp's daddy."

Lemon Frisk nodded. "Yeah... I heard that too. But I'm not like that!"

"But you're a zombie pony too!"

Lemon Frisk gave the colt a sly smile. "I'll tell you a little secret about these ghouls that eat ponies! I know why they are different! You know griffins?"

The colt nodded. "I've seen pictures of them, in the books."

"Well, you see, griffins, they eat meat. Other animals. Like, mice, and stuff. Ponies don't eat that, we don't need to eat meat. We just eat hay, and apples, and, uh, well, I don't really know what you guys eat in this stable."

"We got apples!" the colt said, enthusiastically. "Oh, and cauliflower! And broccoli! I like broccoli!"

"Oh, Nice! Now, these zombie ponies, as you already said, they eat ponies! You know why?"

"Because they uhh... have no broccoli?" the colt tried.

Lemon Frisk frowned. "Hmm. Probably, yes. That's a good point! But you see, ghouls don't need to eat at all. They're dead. I'm a ghoul, I don't eat. But those ghouls, they're rotted in the brain!" He emphasised it by tapping his hoof against his temple. "Stupid! Crazy, even! And because of that, they don't know that they don't need to eat! And they got no broccoli, or apples. So they try to eat meat, like the griffins."

The kid nodded. "Yeah, that's really stupid. So can you tell them they don't need to eat ponies? Maybe they'll listen to you!"

Lemon Frisk shook his head sadly. "No... their brains are too rotted. They're just dead bodies that got back up after they died as ponies. They're no longer ponies, just walking dead bodies."

The little guy looked shocked. "That's terrible! It's like, my gramma's body would step out of her coffin, instead of being food for the broccoli!"

"What happens to dead ponies, here in the stable?" Lemon Frisk asked.

"Mister Hailstorm explained it to us," the colt said, solemnly. "It's the Circle of Life. They put her in the machine, to make her into food for the broccoli, so we can eat the broccoli. But I saw her in the coffin, and momma said she wasn't really there, she was gone to Celestia, and her body was just something that she left behind to be food for the broccoli. I was really sad when she died, but I still think that's nice, to leave the body, for the broccoli. Because, uh, I like broccoli."

Lemon Frisk couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, it's exactly like that. Those ghoul ponies out there, they died and went to Celestia, but their bodies don't realise it, and now they're eating ponies."

The colt nodded. "Right. So then Security needs to make them dead again! They have guns!" He frowned. "But... Apple Crisp's dad was security."

Lemon sighed. "Yeah. But you know what? I'm a ghoul pony just like them. And that means they don't think I'm a pony they can eat! So I think I can probably kill them!"

"Ooh! Like a spy! Like Daring Doo with the Desert Rat People! Only, you'd be, uh, like, a real Desert Rat with the Desert Rat people! Only, not evil!"

"Exactly!" Lemon Frisk grinned, vaguely recalling those comic books from his youth. "So you just wait, and I'll make sure those nasty ghoul ponies don't eat anypony ever again!"

"Yay!" the colt yelled enthusiastically. "You're really cool! What's your name? I'm Fog Light!"

"Lemon Frisk!" the ghoul replied.

Fog Light tilted his head. "Hey, Lemon Frisk, but why didn't you go to Celestia then?"

Lemon Frisk shook his head. "I really have no idea. I just died, and then woke up again. Maybe I didn't have time to go to Celestia before my body woke up."

"Woah! That's really weird! That never happens here. Nopony has ever gotten up after they die."

"That's because you're in a Stable, kid," Lemon Frisk said. "You're protected in here. That kind of stuff only happens to ponies who die in the magic poison of the big war. You know the big war?"

Fog Light sighed. "Yes, I know the big war. Mister Hailstorm told us about it, but then I was making paper boats with my magic because I really need to practice to get my cutie mark, and then he said I had to stay in detention because I wasn't listening to the boring war ministries stuff, and that's why I'm here when everypony else is already gone."

Lemon Frisk blinked. "I see."

"Oh! I should really go home! Bye Lemon Frisk!" the kid said, running past him, and disappearing into the corridors of the stable.

"Wow," a voice came from behind Lemon Frisk. "You should take my job. I've never seen him so interested before."

Lemon Frisk turned around to see the red unicorn leaning against the door frame of the classroom door. The ghoul smiled. "Mister Hailstorm, I presume? Misty Cloud sent me."

Hailstorm's eyes widened. "Where is she?! Is she okay?"

"She's here in the Stable, and she's just fine. But Big Apple died out there, and she wanted to inform his parents first."

"I see," he said. "So... Lemon Frisk. You meant what you said about handling those ghouls?"

Lemon Frisk nodded. "We came here mostly to deliver a book describing all the dangers of the wastelands. Doc already brought it to the, uh, wastelands information committee thingy."

"The Wasteland Research Department," Hailstorm helped.

"Yeah. That," Lemon Frisk said, nodding. "The radio doesn't generally mention radroaches, manticores, bloatsprites, radigators and all that. Those things are just general knowledge to the average wastelander."

"Sounds nasty," Hailstorm said. "I suppose Misty will expect us at our living quarters, then. Follow me."

* * *

"She was still living at home?" Lemon Frisk asked, as they entered Hailstorm's home. It was a typical family home in a Stable living quarters. Sparse, but comfortable, with a few separate areas for the children's bedrooms and kitchen area.

"Much to our chagrin, yes. She stalled her breeding queue position until there were no stallions left, all because of Big Apple. I don't know how his parents will react, but his mate is going to be angry; they destroyed the poor mare's chance at getting children. Let's hope they can still shuffle her in somehow."

Lemon Frisk raised his eyebrow. "That's a whole level of complications Misty never mentioned. And then we're not even talking about Spray Paint."

"Love's a nasty business, in this stable," Hailstorm said, matter-of-factly. "I mean, we don't really mind it, and there's contraceptives for love couples fooling around, but if it makes ponies do crazy things... yeah. It gets bad."

A dark purple mare with a strikingly contrasting blond mane entered from the kitchen area. "Oh? You must be the ghoul that our daughter brought into the stable."

"You knew about him?" Hailstorm asked. "Wait, you knew Misty was here?"

"Rumours, Hail," she said. "You miss out a lot being in that school all day."

"Right, right," he said. "Lemon Frisk, this is my mate, Moonstorm."

Lemon Frisk frowned. "Moonstorm and Hailstorm?"

"Our parents thought it was cute," Moonstorm said with a smile.

Lemon Frisk smiled. "All of you have somewhat weather related names, but you must be the first pony I've seen around here with a weather related cutie mark."

Moonstorm glanced at her flank. "That? Oh, no. It's not a whirlwind, it's a whirlpool. I work in water maintenance."

"Oh. I see," Lemon Frisk said.

"I heard you got quite a welcome, at the stable door," Moonstorm said. "I'm glad to see you, eh, survived."

"Oh yes. Really warm welcome," Lemon Frisk deadpanned. "Only way he could've made it warmer was by using incendiary bullets."

"They shot you?" Hailstorm asked.

"Winter Gale was on guard," Moonstorm said. "After what that poor guy went through, I'm not really surprised. Nopony that twitchy should be put on guard duty."

"By the Goddesses, you're lucky to be alive!" Hailstorm said.

Lemon shrugged. "Takes more than a few bullets to kill me. I'm just glad he didn't hit anything vital, like, my cutie mark. That would've really bummed me out."

The two ponies stared at him, but before they had a chance to comment, the door slid open, and Misty walked into the room. She looked like she hadn't slept in a week.

"Misty!" Hailstorm said. "So glad to see you!"

Misty just smiled weakly. "Hi dad. Hi mom."

"She was there, wasn't she?" Moonstorm said.

Misty just nodded, and slumped down next to Lemon Frisk. "Hold me," she said, leaning against him.

Lemon Frisk just nodded, and put his foreleg around her shoulders.

* * *

"You two seem awfully close," Moonstorm said.

Misty had gone to her bed, and had drifted into an uneasy sleep, and Hailstorm had gone off to the stable's common room to meet up with his friends. Given how miserable Misty was feeling, no one had gone further into their little Public Display of Affection. But now, Lemon Frisk was alone with Misty's mother, and she was clearly curious about it. She didn't sound cynical, or worried, or even disgusted, though. Just curious.

"It's... complicated," Lemon Frisk said with a sigh.

Moonstorm smirked. "You could sure say that. Nothing more complicated than love."

"Nah," Lemon said. "Love's simple. It's the circumstances."

"So tell me, Lemon Frisk," she said. "What are these circumstances?"

"She loves me, I'm trying to get over two hundred year old repressed war traumas, including the loss of my own wife and son," Lemon Frisk said. "So as I said, complicated."

An uneasy silence fell over the room, only interrupted by the sounds of Misty tossing and turning in her sleep.

"I'm sorry," Moonstorm finally said. "I never really considered your own troubles in this."

"Too caught up on the whole 'ghoul' thing, huh?" he said, smiling.

She just nodded quietly.

Lemon Frisk laughed softly. "Sterile, squishy, pretty sure it's all still there, haven't used it in two hundred years, so no idea if it still works." He grinned at Moonstorm's slightly disgusted expression. "Really, don't bother. I fired all of that ammunition the moment I found out how she felt. Your daughter's quite cute when she's embarrassed."

Moonstorm laughed. "You have a strange sense of humour."

"Count yourself lucky; most ghouls just get cynical," he said.

He glanced in the direction of the bedroom where Misty was sleeping. He heard a soft whimper coming from inside.

"I wasn't there when Big Apple died, but she told me about it," he said. "He died before her eyes. Torn apart by a mutated monster of the wastelands. I guess talking about it with his parents brought it all back."

"You care about her," Moonstorm said. "I can see that, at least."

Lemon Frisk looked Moonstorm in the eyes. "When I leave this Stable, she'll come with me. There is nothing I or anypony else can do to change that. I know our reasons for sticking together are somewhat odd. She stays with me because she's in love. I want to get closure on what happened two hundred years ago, and I know she'll help me with that. But she's my friend, and right now, that's enough for her. I may not know where we're going with this, but at least we both know where we stand."

"She's her own mare," Moonstorm said with a sigh. "With the Stable opened, the breeding program will probably be ending soon anyway. Many ponies will try their luck out there. But it's okay for a mother to be worried about her child, isn't it?"

"Why else do you think we came back?" Lemon Frisk said. "The wastelands are dangerous, and many ponies who leave this place will undoubtedly die. But as long as Misty travels with me, I'll do anything in my power to protect her."

Moonstorm nodded. "I suppose that's all I can ask for." She glanced at Misty's bedroom door. "Go, then," she said, smiling. "Protect her from her nightmares."

Footnote: Level Up! Which level are you anyway? I guess you lost track, in those two hundred years.
New Perk: Foal at Heart: Wait, you don't scare the crap out of little children? How the hell did that happen?

Day Six - This Stable Life

View Online

DAY SIX
This Stable Life
built on foundations of death

Misty's bedroom door opened with a soft creak, and Hailstorm looked inside. He was greeted with a soft nod from Lemon Frisk, who was sitting at the end of the single bed in the room. Misty, lying on the head of the bed, was curled up into a ball, holding Lemon Frisk's right foreleg and using it as pillow.

"Oh. You're up already," Hailstorm said. He looked at Misty, and frowned. "She's..."

"Still asleep, and cuddling my leg, yes," Lemon Frisk said, smiling at Misty.

The red stallion nodded. "Right. Uh. Moonstorm and I discussed this whole, uh, thing, yesterday."

"I thought so," Lemon said, looking up at him again. "I heard your voices through the wall."

"You did?" Hailstorm asked. "Hm. We didn't keep you awake, did we?"

"Heh, no," Lemon said, shaking his head. "There's one thing you can take literally about the 'restless dead'. I don't sleep."

"Huh," Hailstorm said, raising an eyebrow. "So you stayed here with her all night, awake?"

"I can hardly disobey a mother's orders," Lemon Frisk said with a smirk. "It does get a bit boring, but at least the company's pretty." He glanced down at the picture of the red couch on Misty's flank. "And, hey, I finally got to see her cutie mark."

"Well, anyway," Hailstorm said. "The people of the Wasteland Research Department wanted to talk to you... both of you, that is. They asked for you to be there in about half an hour."

Lemon Frisk shook the leg that was currently taken hostage by the pretty mare. "Hey Misty. Wake u-up."

Misty grumbled in her half-sleep, and buried her face deeper into Lemon Frisk's knee, holding his leg even tighter now.

"Yes, really cute," Lemon said. "But you still have to get up."

Misty looked up, and gave Lemon a sleepy look. "Hmm?"

"Good morning, sleepy head. Your Wasteland Research buddies want to see us," Lemon Frisk said. "Which also means I'll need your cozy squishy pillow back. I kinda need it to walk on."

Misty realised what she was holding, and quickly sat upright, letting go of his leg. "Oh! I didn't mean to... um..." She suddenly realised the door was open, and her dad was looking at the whole scene with mild amusement. "Dad!" she yelled out in surprise. "Um, hi, dad."

Hailstorm rolled his eyes. "I'll see you two at the table." He walked out and closed the door.

* * *

A little while later, Misty and Lemon had come out of the bedroom, and had joined Moonstorm and Hailstorm at the breakfast table. Their hosts had already finished their food though, and were mostly trying to find out what the Wastelands were like. Since Lemon Frisk didn't eat, he took it upon himself to answer most of their questions, giving Misty time to finish her apples. After finally running out of questions about the outside world, Hailstorm shifted the conversation to the more personal angle he'd missed out on the previous night.

"So," Hailstorm said. "You, and her, huh?"

"Um. Not really," Lemon said. "Somewhat. Maybe. We haven't quite figured it out."

Hailstorm sighed, shook his head and looked at Moonstorm. "Looks like she chooses all the wrong bucks in terms of getting us grandchildren, doesn't she?"

Lemon just nodded. "I did warn her about that. Well, sort of."

Misty's face seemed to be spontaneously developing a chameleon defense mechanism, since it was taking the colour of the bright red apple she was eating. "Stop talking like I'm not here," she muttered under her breath.

"Yes, leave the poor dear alone!" Moonstorm cut in. "She's been through a lot, out there!"

"That's not even relevant here!" Hailstorm said. He rolled his eyes. "Mares."

"What was that, dear?" Moonstorm said with a soft smile, while poking her hoof into her husband's side. The stallion yelped and jumped aside.

"Nothing!" he responded immediately.

Lemon Frisk raised his eyebrow, looked from Misty Cloud to Moonstorm and back, and blinked. "This explains so much."

"So, um," Misty said, having finally managed to finish her apple, "what happened here after we left?"

Hailstorm took a deep breath. "The Wasteland Research fellows broadcasted about your, um, illegal excursion, warned ponies not to follow the example, and then went over a long list of very real and horrible things they actually knew about from their year of research, but hadn't gotten around to releasing in some form that wouldn't cause panic. Raiders and slavers and all that. Since you'd already left, this information was mostly received as 'too little, too late', and the ponies generally blamed them for sending you to your deaths out there. After all, informing ponies was what they were bloody there for, and they had opened the door, too." He shook his head and sighed. "This was bound to happen."

He looked at his daughter. "Not that I think it would've stopped you. But you'd at least have gotten some idea of how messed up it is out there. Might've saved Big Apple." He smiled. "So don't blame yourself too much for that. It was their responsibility."

"Wait, I thought you guys had had radio for months," Lemon Frisk said. "How can you not know about raiders?"

"Everything went through their equipment. They had the only means of getting signals through the walls, and they'd spent a year recording songs off it. They simply filtered out the stuff they thought was 'too traumatising', and filled the extra time with music. Now, I wasn't really involved in all that, but apparently some ponies had been insisting on opening the Door, and the WRD gave in to them before they had a chance to address the radio censoring issue."

Lemon Frisk facehoofed. "The truth, no matter how much it hurts, censored. Now I've really heard it all." He looked at Hailstorm. "What about the city excursion, though?" he asked. "I mean, by that time they must've been completely informed."

"Heh. Now that's quite another deal," Hailstorm said, shaking his head. "The WRD didn't have a clue about undead flesh-eating monster ponies. Apparently the scout team thought they'd found survivors. It took them completely by surprise."

Lemon Frisk nodded. "Well, I guess that's not too hard to believe, considering they got all information from the radio," he said. "Feral ghouls generally stay at the place where they died, so there's rarely anything new to report about them."

"All that changed with you two though," Moonstorm said. "I heard some rumours from the laundry crew. Lemon's saddlebags apparently had a booklet with some kind of survival guide. The WRD took it all and put it in storage, of course."

Lemon shrugged. "We sent the doc to give them Misty's copy anyway. It's kind of why we came here, after all."

"Well, you better go see what they think about it, then," Hailstorm said. "They're expecting you."

* * *

"Good morning, Stable Sixty-Nine! This is DJ Trillex, with a special report for all the ponies in here."

Ponies everywhere looked up to the enthusiastic female voice coming out of the speakers. They hadn't had the chance to hear their own DJ in quite a while... in fact, she hadn't done a show since the WRD had given the public access to external broadcasts. Sure, the Overstallion and the WRD had broadcasted some news, but that wasn't quite the same.

"Now, I'm sure you'd all much prefer to hear that cool guy from Tenpony Tower telling you all how many more settlements were murdered to the last pony, but alas, today you'll have to make do with little old me, because I'm hijacking this, and there's nothing you can do about it! Well, besides walking out the Big Door and turning on your pipbuck radio, but if you're planning on going outside, you really want to hear me out first. Because I got two very special guests with me, straight from the Wastes! So, better start with introductions, then!"

When Misty Cloud and Lemon Frisk had arrived at the offices of the Wasteland Research Department, they promptly found themselves getting interviewed live on the Stable broadcast system. Their host was a middle-aged but very enthusiastic green earth pony mare, with a branch with an apple hanging from it as cutie mark. She had only introduced herself as 'DJ Trillex'. Right now, the DJ was looking at Lemon Frisk expectantly.

"Uh, hi everypony," Lemon Frisk said, in his grinding raspy voice. "My name is Lemon Frisk, and I'm a ghoul from the wastelands."

"He's not!" Misty cut in, using her own microphone. "He's only been out there for a week! Heck, I've been out there longer."

"Well, all right. But I'm still a ghoul, and I came here from the wastelands, didn't I? And unlike you, I already knew how things work out there."

Misty sighed. "Fair enough. Uh, you ponies probably know me; I'm Misty Cloud. Me and two of my friends planned our own little excursion about a week and a half back, and... it didn't end too well. We got attacked by some mutated monstrosity. Big Apple got killed, and Spray Paint barely survived. He wanted us to tell his mom that he's doing all right. He's making a living working for a merchant in one of the settlements we found. They're nice people."

"Oh, that's right," Lemon Frisk interrupted. "He also asked us to deliver a specific message to his dad, didn't he? What was that again, Misty?"

Misty smiled. "The message was, and I quote, 'Screw that jackass. And feel free to tell him I said that'. Don't go blaming us, Event Horizon, because that's exactly what he said."

Looking at how the introduction was getting rather out of hoof, the DJ decided to once again take control of the conversation. "Right! Wow. So, Lemon Frisk. You're, uh, a ghoul. What exactly does that mean?"

"What it means?" Lemon Frisk said, frowning. "I've expired and failed to go to meet my maker. I'm a stiff. Bereft of life. If I hadn't kept walking, and the whole place wasn't poisoned to hell, I'd be pushing up the daisies! I am an ex-pony!"

The DJ blinked, slightly stunned. "Right. I'm sensing you want this to be perfectly clear. You're dead."

"Not even," Lemon Frisk continued. "I'm bloody undead, un-bloody dead. I mean, what's the bloody point?"

"Well, from what I've heard, you've got two centuries of experience with it. You tell me?"

"Heh," Lemon laughed. "Not a clue. Trust me, finding the meaning of life doesn't get any easier by dying. Life has, sort of, passed me by, you know?"

"Passed you by. Right," DJ Trillex continued. "So tell our listeners, why did you come to our humble Stable?"

"Oh, that's an easy one," Lemon Frisk said right away, grinning from ear to ear. "To look at the pretty mares."

Misty facehoofed, and groaned. "Oh, not this again."

The DJ frowned. "You came to the Stable... to ogle the mares?"

"This place is quite famous in the wastelands, you know," Lemon Frisk said, "though nopony really knows where it is. But they all know Stable Sixty-Nine is the one with tons of pretty mares and only a few stallions."

Trillex raised an eyebrow at that. "Two hundred years ago, maybe..."

"Yes," Lemon continued, "Misty set me straight on that. I just thought I'd warn you about how the wasteland dwellers may react to those shiny stable uniform buttons of yours. As for me coming here to look at mares, it's nothing quite as mundane as 'ogling', and it doesn't really have anything to do with that gender ratio either. Well, I guess, now we're here, I might as well make it official."

Misty's eyes widened. "Wait, what are you..."

"Right!" Lemon Frisk exclaimed, making sure he sounded as official as he could. "Taking into account the few mares we've seen in Hayden, who were, admittedly, rather homely, the Slags, who, being part zebra, were pretty exotic without even trying, and the female population of Stable Sixty-Nine I have currently observed, I, Lemon Frisk, hereby declare that, in my humble opinion, Misty Cloud is worthy of the title of 'Pretty Mare'." He looked at the orange mare sitting next to him, who was currently trying to bury her head under her forelegs. "Happy now?"

"Ecstatic," she groaned. Her microphone didn't pick up more than a muffled groan.

"Well, I have to agree, she's not bad-looking," the DJ said, determined to keep her show running, no matter how odd the ghoul was acting. "So what brought on this little... revelation?"

Misty jumped up. "No, please don't!"

"Well, she asked me," Lemon Frisk said, completely ignoring Misty's plea. "I could hardly answer her when all I had to compare with were two centuries of seeing ghouls. Every smoothcoat is pretty compared to those, and I wanted to give her an honest answer."

"That's a lie!" Misty shouted. "You called me a pretty mare first! I just wondered, and you made a big embarrassing deal about it wherever we went!"

The DJ blinked. "Huh. All right. So then, why did you really come here?"

This time, Misty made sure she was the one answering, to prevent Lemon Frisk from embarassing her even further in front of an entire Stable that knew her quite personally. "Mostly to let Apple and Spray's families know what happened out there," she said. "And to deliver the Wasteland Survival Guide."

DJ Trillex smiled. "Ah yes! Fillies and gentlecolts, perk up your ears for this! These brave wasteland travellers gave us an amazing guide, detailing all the nasty things out there, and how to deal with them! We all know what happened to the scouting team that went to the city, but it seems there are ghouls of a different kind out there too, because this guide was written by one, and delivered to us by another. So, Lemon Frisk, have you ever met this Ditzy Doo?"

Lemon nodded. "A few times, when she was making deliveries. She's a bicentennial ghoul, just like me. One of the few pegasi that didn't decide to leave us all to die and hole themselves up in the clouds. Gotta admire that."

"Indeed," the DJ said. "And I don't think the Enclave would take her in now, anyway. Misty mentioned you've only been out here for a week. What did you do in these two centuries before that, then?"

"I've just been scavenging in Canterlot. My advice though, if you're not already dead, don't go there, or you will be. It's poisoned to the core, with something far worse than plain old radiation."

"So, why did you leave?" the DJ continued. "I mean, after two centuries, that is somewhat odd, no?"

Lemon Frisk didn't answer right away. Why did he leave? He didn't really have an answer to that. He had told himself it was the alicorn situation, but he realised that wasn't true. Or, not entirely true, anyway. The Alicorns just got him thinking about the Princesses, about the old days... about his life. It had made him even more restless than he was by his own nature, and urged him to go find... what, exactly? The meaning of life, as he had joked with the DJ? Nothing that profound, probably, but still, a reason. A reason to keep doing this. To keep going, day after day, two centuries beyond the end of his natural life.

"Lemon?" Misty asked softly. "Are you all right?"

Lemon snapped out of his musings. "I- I'm sorry. I've never really thought about it before now. I guess I just wanted... something more. Some point to living this weird un-life. I've been surviving Canterlot for two hundred years, but only now, I feel like I'm really living again."

"So, this is a kind of... spiritual journey, to you?" the DJ asked.

Lemon Frisk laughed. "An undead pony on a spiritual journey? That seems like the setup of a joke. But, yeah, I guess you could say that."

Trillex smirked. "I guess the punch line would include walking into a bar and drinking spirits."

"Heh, if only," Lemon Frisk said. "I can't get drunk since I became a ghoul. And to make it worse, it seems other ghouls can."

"Ooh, yeah, that sucks. Anyway, what are your plans now?"

"Moving on," Misty said, firmly. "I can't stay here." Her voice mellowed. "Two days ago, I ran straight on, for two hours, without ever changing direction. You can't imagine how... liberating that feels. The gym's treadmills are nothing compared to that."

"Sounds nice," the DJ said. "How about you, Lemon Frisk?"

"We're sticking together," Lemon said. "My first order of business is keeping a promise to a young colt I met here. Fog Light, if you're hearing this... we'll deal with these crazy zombies, make sure they never eat anypony ever again. You have my word."

Misty suddenly looked worried. She hadn't heard about this yet. "We're hunting... feral ghouls?"

"I have been sneaking around in a city full of them for two centuries, you know," Lemon Frisk said, sounding somewhat proud. "And those were an exceptionally tough kind, too. Taking out a few here shouldn't be too hard. I mean, it worked on raiders."

Misty throw him a questioning look. "What 'worked on raiders'?"

Lemon blinked, and realised it might not be a good idea to tell Misty that he had literally bitten the head off a pony. "Um... taking... care of them?" He swiftly turned back to the DJ. "So, yeah, first order of business, getting rid of those feral ghouls. After that, who knows? Probably explore the city, and see what else and who else is out there. It's a big wasteland, and there's not much that can kill a Canterlot ghoul."

"Well, this has all been very interesting, but we still have a lot to discuss, so I think we'll end the interview here," the DJ said. "Thank you both for thinking of our humble little Stable, and giving us this amazing guide. This has been DJ Trillex! We will now resume your normal outside broadcasts."

"Wait, there's one more thing!" Misty Cloud said. "A gift to you specifically, DJ Trillex, and to everypony in the Stable. I have a pipbuck recording of a ballad of the Canterlot ghouls..."

Lemon Frisk's eyes widened. "You didn't!"

"...sung by Lemon Frisk," Misty continued. She stuck out her tongue and leaned over to him. "Consider it payback for the whole 'pretty mare' thing," she whispered in his ear, before grabbing a wire from a nearby console with her magic, plugging it into her pipbuck and transferring the audio file.

Lemon Frisk nodded slowly, admitting defeat. "Touché, Misty. Touché."

The DJ took over at that point, and not much later, the microphones were off, and Lemon Frisk's raspy singing voice sounded throughout the Stable, accompanied by the faint crackling of a camp fire burning in the background.

"The colts and fillies all forgot, the games we used to play...
All the brave stallions and the mares, died in the olden days...
And as we look, upon the land, that we once knew to thrive...
Equestria, we ask the ground, oh are you still alive?"

* * *

A bit later, the three ponies were sitting around a table in the office of the Wasteland Research Department, each with a drink before them. DJ Trillex told them more ponies would join them later, but despite being part of the think tank, they all still had their stable duties, too.

"You two seem to make a game out of embarrassing each other," the DJ said.

"True," Lemon Frisk said. "I take my duties very seriously!"

Misty wasted no time in stabbing him in the side with her hoof. Lemon Frisk let out a loud whinny and fell off his chair. Still, he couldn't help but laugh.

"You're getting sneakier!" He grinned while getting up again.

She grinned back. "I have to. You're getting more wary around me."

"Am not. You really think you caught me completely unaware when you started using my leg as a pillow in your sleep?"

Misty's face reddened. "Shut up!"

"Anyway!" Lemon Frisk said, swiftly getting back onto his chair, and looking at the DJ pony. "What's your real name?"

"Apple Twig," she said. "I'm Apple family!" she added proudly.

"Wow. After two hundred years of breeding program, Apple family pride sure hasn't changed much!" Lemon said, smiling. "Your accent has, though."

Twig nodded. "Well, that's not so surprising. I mean, there was only one Apple in the Stable. Judging from the older DJ Trillex recordings, it was gone after just a few generations."

"Older DJ Trillex recordings?" Lemon Frisk asked. "You mean, you didn't make it up?"

"Oh, no! The original DJ Trillex was one of the original Forefathers. His name was Apple Pie. When the doors started closing after only eight stallions had entered, Blueshift and him managed to still squeeze themselves through. Well, mostly, in Apple Pie's case; Trillex means "three-legs". He took up the broadcasting station as a hobby during his recovery, and kept doing it when it turned out he couldn't buck apple trees anymore. The DJ role has been sort of hoofed down through the family, more or less."

Lemon Frisk's eyes widened. "Wait. You said the Stable closed when there were still ponies outside?"

Apple Twig nodded. "Stable-Tec screwed us over really well," she said. "The Stable was built with enough space for a starting population of two thousand ponies, and all plans and drills showed it that way, too. They did find it odd how all mares went in first and the stallions second, but after a few drills, everypony just started thinking of it as 'ladies first'. Until the Stable Door closed after only eight stallions had gone inside, that is."

Lemon frisk swallowed hard. "By the Goddesses. Nine hundred ninety ponies, left out there to die, right in front of the door? By design?"

"Well, we don't know what happened to them, exactly," Apple Twig continued. "We expected the ground before the Stable to be littered with skeletons when we opened the Door, but it wasn't. There were just a few, instead of hundreds. My guess, most of them got away before the bombs hit. We know the bomb hit quite a while after the alarm, though, so it wasn't too surprising."

Lemon Frisk stared at the table, and started mumbling to himself. "Roughly a thousand stallions, panicky situation, not too cramped. Additional situational factors... let's see. Time span is definitely one. Then there's age groups, family ties..."

Apple Twig frowned, and turned to Misty. "What's he doing?"

"Not a clue," Misty said. "But if I'd have to guess, I'd say he's trying to find out what happened to them."

"How would he do that?"

Lemon looked up from his musings. "Well, it's like looking at photographs of a party that's turning into a panic," he explained. "I'm a crisis manager; I was trained to assess social behaviour on scales like that. In fact, it becomes easier with more ponies involved, because you can apply statistics more easily. In this case, I'm trying to figure out, roughly, how most of them reacted. How many skeletons were out there? Did you clean them up?"

Apple Twig nodded. "Yes. We buried them in the far end of the gravel flat. It must've been about forty or so, roughly in a line towards the city. I'm guessing they died in the panic inside the original queue towards the stable. Only about ten of them were close to the door."

Lemon Frisk nodded. "Forty. Hm. Do you know what age groups the intended male population was in?"

"All in their early adult years," Twig said. "Young, strong people chosen to repopulate Equestria," she added cynically.

"You said the bomb hit quite a while after the alarm. How long was that?"

Twig frowned. "The reports on the sensor malfunctions showed they all spiked, and then died; probably one central malfunction that took them all out somehow, but it was definitely caused by the shockwave. That was about two and a half hours after the doors closed."

Lemon Frisk nodded again. "Right. Forty initial chaos victims, on a population of nine hundred ninety, that's about 1/25th. No information about any wounded, though. Aggressive age, all male, probably all with family in the city, and, given the nature of the Stable experiment, most likely without any close relatives inside the population. I mean, they must've done that for the mares, and they were probably thorough enough in keeping up appearances to do the same with the stallions, right?"

Twig blinked. "Uh. I dunno. They're in the Stable inhabitant records, but I never really looked into it."

"Well, I'll just assume so," Lemon Frisk continued. "Looking at the statistics for the age groups, that brings us with roughly 20% inclined to lead, 10% inclined to take independent action, 70% inclined to follow examples... other traits, let's see. We can assume 30% strongly family-centered people, 30% prone to violence or adventurous behaviour. Then there's the subcategories and overlapping groups. Applying Hardly Seldom's short-term behaviour theorem, taking into account the amount of time for the trauma to sink in, and the inevitable 'cry wolf' effect, hmm..."

Lemon Frisk cleared his throat. "Within the first hour, about a fifth would stick together with their friends, in groups of three to twenty, and move on to find some other place to survive. Most of the others would panic, with a small portion of them becoming violent, though I am inclined to lean towards panic trampling, personally. In two hours, even the more panicky ones had probably somewhat calmed down, but not until after the chaos left forty victims. About a quarter of the original group would've gone back to the city, warnings be damned, just to be with their families, especially since they might've thought it was a false alarm, after two hours. The others would probably have gone away from the city, either alone or in groups, feeling very lost. Of those that moved away, the decisive group probably made it the farthest before the blast."

He smiled. "Whew. Been a long time since I've done that. Mind you, there's no real way to know how many survived; I only know the social and mass-psychological side. I have no idea about the range of the balefire bomb effects, or the distance the ponies could've travelled in that time. They probably all went roughly in the same direction though; completely away from the city as seen from the Stable."

Misty frowned, and looked on her pipbuck, opening the map. "Wait. The city is roughly north-east of here. That would send them straight to... Hayden!"

Misty and Lemon Frisk looked at each other, eyes wide. "Could it really?" Lemon said. "The village without pretty mares?"

"It's been two hundred years though," Misty said, frowning. "It shouldn't still be noticeable."

"Unless it became a kind of traditional thing. You know, the colts' camp," Lemon Frisk said, thinking. "They weren't restricted in a Stable. Ponies came and went. It could simply have become a place where guys hang out."

"Well, not much use speculating about it," Misty said, shrugging. "We'll just have to ask Spring Singer, if we ever go back there."

"A fifth," Apple Twig said. "You're saying that roughly two hundred ponies of the original male population of our Stable probably survived, and went straight towards a place that's a settlement now?"

Lemon Frisk smiled. "Better. Hayden was the insurance policy of one smart pony who had found the safest spot on the map in case the world went to hell. It's got its own water talisman, and it's been there since the war. It would've been there, waiting for them. I wonder if Spring Singer arrived after them. She never really said; I just assumed she was already there."

"I'm assuming Spring Singer is a ghoul too?" Apple Twig asked.

Lemon Frisk nodded. "She helped build the place. Unfortunately, they were quite far away from their safe haven when the bombs hit."

"I'll transfer the maps," Misty said, holding up her pipbuck leg. "Then you know everything we know about the area between here and Canterlot. Oh, and Lemon's map, it could be of some use. What happened to his saddlebags anyway?"

"Oh!" Apple Twig yelled, getting off her chair and walking towards some cabinets in the wall. "Sorry, I completely forgot about that." She looked at Lemon Frisk. "We kept the contents of your saddlebags here, and put everything neatly back inside when it was cleaned. We didn't really look at the stuff though, out of respect for your privacy. I mean, we'd love to see what's there, but we prefer not annoying our first outside guest by nosing through his stuff without his permission. We would've asked about the guide, but, well, you sent it to us anyway."

She opened the cabinet, pulled the saddlebags out with her teeth, and deposited them on the ground before Lemon Frisk.

"I wonder though, why in Equestria do you collect bottlecaps?"

* * *

As Apple Twig had predicted, more ponies joined them a while later, and, as could be expected from a think tank, every one of them had their own way of looking at the outside world. Misty and Lemon spent the next few hours telling them everything they knew about the Wasteland, its culture, trade, weapons and currency. They also made sure they understood that letting the Stable's production facilities make more bottlecaps as money was a really, really bad idea.

It was around noon when they finally left the WRD. The two went to the Stable's common room to have some lunch. Well, Misty had, and Lemon Frisk had simply followed. Some ponies had given them friendly nods, but most still seemed rather disturbed by Lemon Frisk's appearance.

"So, now what?" Misty said, sitting down. "You wanted to go hunt those ghouls?"

Lemon Frisk shook his head. "No. First, I really want to know more about this Stable. Your history intrigues me."

"Well, you're in luck, then," a familiar voice said behind him. "I'm off for the day."

"Hi Dad!" Misty said, greeting Hailstorm with a smile.

"You two gave quite a show on the radio," Hailstorm said with a smirk. "I have to hoof it to you, girl, that song was a good way to let the Stable ponies warm up to Lemon Frisk."

Lemon raised his eyebrow. "Was that why you did that?"

Misty slumped down. "Way to ruin my revenge," she muttered. She suddenly looked up again, frowning. "Wait, you shouldn't be off for the day!"

"And yet I am," Hailstorm said. "It's ESA training day. They're Focal Point's responsibility now! Well, I guess a bunch of them just went home. With the Stable opened, they just don't take it seriously anymore. Can't imagine why, though. The ESA is one of the most awesome things ever invented."

Misty smiled. "Ooh... I haven't been in there in years!"

Lemon Frisk looked at the two ponies. "Excuse me, but uh, I don't speak acronym."

Misty snorted. "Sorry. It's a joke anyway. The ESA was an experiment of the WRD, thought out ages ago. Nowadays, the kids just play in it. It's good training, I guess, but for them, it's mostly just fun." She looked at Hailstorm. "Shall we just show him?"

Hailstorm grinned, "Are you afraid of heights, Lemon Frisk?"

Lemon frowned. "I spent two hundred years living in a city magically glued onto the side of a mountain, so, not particularly." The way the two ponies kept smiling at him made him feel uneasy. "Why?"

"You'll see," Misty said, still smiling.

* * *

The trio of ponies was standing in front of a very normal-looking door in the residential area. The only thing that made it different was a foal's drawing next to the door, set inside a glass frame. It showed a pony in a space suit, as Lemon remembered seeing them in comic books. Below it was the text "Equestrian Space Agency." The only other thing that stood out was the fact there was a box full of socks on the ground below the sign.

"Come on, put them on!" Misty said. "You're not allowed inside without socks. It would damage the room."

"Can you at least tell me what this is all about?" Lemon Frisk asked.

"Nope," Misty said, using her magic to pull a sock over one of Lemon Frisk's hooves. "You figure it out. It's your special talent, after all."

Lemon Frisk rolled his eyes but decided to humour them, and pulled three more socks over his other hooves. "You two have been deliberately tight-lipped about what's behind this door. I can't figure it out from nothing."

Misty and Hailstorm grinned and exchanged quick glances. "Door," Hailstorm said.

"Pony," she replied.

"What are you two—"

The next moment, Hailstorm's magic pulled open the door, while Misty's magic shoved him inside. The door slammed shut behind Lemon Frisk, and suddenly, he was looking at...

Vast empty space, as far as the eye could see. Lemon Frisk felt slightly dizzy. The fact the floor felt slippery under his socked hooves didn't improve the matter at all.

He quickly noticed it wasn't empty after all. Throughout the space, above, below, and all around him, he could see ponies. Foals, playing. And... himself. He blinked.

He realised he was in a room with mirror walls. The "Space Agency" was nothing more than six giant mirrors; four on the walls, and two for the ceiling and floor, paving the entire room. They had knocked out the interior walls of the residence to make it one big rectangle. To complete the effect, even the inside of the door was covered with a mirror, its outline only faintly visible inside the mirrored wall. There was no handle; he assumed he would simply have to push it to open. Along the sides of the ceiling of the rectangular room were fluorescent lamps, subtly illuminating it without detracting from the effect of endless space.

Lemon looked down below him, into the endlessly mirroring depths, and wished he hadn't. He wasn't afraid of heights, normally, but the illusion of endless nothingness below him was frighteningly real. He could see how they thought it up as an experiment to let ponies deal with wide open spaces... but for those first ponies, it must've been quite a baptism of fire.

"Lemon Frisk!" he heard a familiar voice call out from the corner of the room. "We're in spaaaaace!" Fog Light grinned at him. Behind him, three other foals were playing. An adolescent mare with a beach ball as cutie mark was looking over them. She gave Lemon Frisk a polite nod, but didn't seem to have any intention of coming closer to the ghoul pony.

Lemon Frisk blinked, and looked at Fog Light. "Yeah. I guess we are, huh?"

* * *

"That was... interesting," Lemon Frisk said, pulling the socks off his hooves. "How did they ever think of that? It's so simple."

"Old tailor Flux State thought it up in his younger years," Hailstorm said. "Completely by accident."

"You got tailors?" Lemon asked, frowning. "Don't you have uniform rules?"

Misty sniggered. "Not on Saturday nights, silly! We do have some entertainment, you know!"

"Exactly," Hailstorm said, "And Flux happens to have a knack for designing nice clothing. Fifty years ago, as the story goes, the WRD started its research efforts to get radio signals from outside. Well, everypony knew the outside was supposed to be endless plains and huge open sky, and the comic books showed that too, but they had no idea how to prepare for something like that. Until Flux State accidentally lined up two pony-sized mirrors, and saw the infinite repetition in them."

He looked at the drawing next to the door. "His daughter, Equilibrium, drew that picture after testing out Flux' first version. It was just a rectangular room of two long mirrors for each 'wall', without ceiling or floor. She loved it right away. I think Libri even suggested adding the extra dimensions; she was really into those Lunar Defender comics, with all the space stuff. When the big room was made, the older ponies were scared to death to go inside it, but my generation, well, we just grew up with it. It's always been for the kids. In a way, we're probably more used to big spaces than the average wastelander."

Misty looked at Lemon Frisk. "It freaked you out, didn't it?" she asked, smiling.

Lemon nodded. "When I looked down, yes. I don't think I'm cut out to be a astronaut."

* * *

By the time they were back at Misty's home, the lights in the Stable had started to dim, indicating night was falling. The story about the mirror room had focused Lemon Frisk's attention back on his original interest, though, and the talk at the dinner table quickly shifted towards the Stable's history.

"Apple Twig already told me about the stable closing in front of nine hundred ninety stallions," Lemon Frisk said to Hailstorm. "I suppose you can tell me what happened next?"

Hailstorm nodded. "Indeed, I can. Now, not many ponies here know the specifics about this, but I do. And the first thing you have to realise is, there was a very specific experiment planned in this stable. Which was thoroughly sabotaged."

"Sabotaged?" Lemon asked.

"Yeah. The original experiment, according to the radio log we got from the Overstallion's office, was a complete return to prehistoric times. Herds consisting of one stallion and his group of mares."

Misty looked up. She'd never been very interested in Stable history, but Lemon Frisk's enthusiasm in the matter was quite contagious, and this was information she hadn't heard before.

"The first Overstallion was a Stable-Tec manager," Hailstorm continued. "All data we got indicates that Applebloom was the one who put him here, and changed the original experiment. We don't know why. There were some rumours about those two, though, so it could be she was doing him a personal favour. While they couldn't change the overall experiment, they managed to change some minor details. The Stable wasn't supposed to have any cultural information whatsoever. Just an empty maneframe with loads of space, and the technology to produce whatever we thought up. Small changes in the preparation document made people bring books into the Stable instead of prohibiting it, and the order of the males was changed so the first dozen or so were all experts in very different fields of life. Our Overstallion was put in first place, and number two was a genetics expert. As you can imagine, those changes made all the difference."

Lemon Frisk sighed. "Figures. The only successful Stables were those that didn't work as intended. Most were set to open automatically, though. Wasn't this one?"

"Yes, but that was linked to the radiation sensors outside," Hailstorm said, "which all died during the initial blast. It switched to manual control after that."

"That's... rather sane, by Stable-Tec standards," Lemon said, once again abusing his poor left eyebrow.

"Not as sane as you'd think," Moonstorm said. She hadn't said much so far, preferring to let her husband speak on what seemed to be one of his favourite subjects. But she knew the stories, at least. "There's a story from the Overstallion about it," she said. "His terminal spewed out a few dozen error messages about the sensors, and right in the middle of those, one asking to open the door. It's a good thing Summer Rain had an eye for detail, or he would've just confirmed it along with the rest."

"Yep," Lemon Frisk said with a flat look. "That sounds more like Stable-Tec."

He blinked. "Wait. You did not just say 'Summer Rain', did you?"

The dark purple mare gave him an odd look. "Yes, I did. He was the first Overstallion."

Lemon Frisk frowned. "Blue earth pony, jet black mane, King of Hearts playing card as cutie mark?"

Hailstorm's face brightened. "You mean, you knew him?" he asked.

Lemon Frisk facehoofed. "Very few ponies back in the day didn't. The Whinnyapolis Maresmeriser. The stallion who never slept alone, or with the same mare twice. By Celestia. They gave him the task of repopulating Equestria?"

Hailstorm laughed. "We know what kind of guy he was, but we never knew his fame was so... general."

He looked at Misty. "Don't tell me... that's why you got a weather related name?"

Misty gave him an embarrassed grin "It's kind of tradition, to name the children after the name style of their father, and that traces back to the ten Forefathers."

Lemon Frisk nodded, his expression stuck somewhat between disgust, disbelief and amusement. "I see. Wow. Summer Rain. The guy who had probably slept with every mare you knew. The stallion that held the condom industry upright single- uh, well, you get my point." He cracked a smile. "Crazy guy, too. I worked together with him once. Not an ounce of shame, subtlety or tact, but if he wanted to get things done, they'd get done all right."

"Oh believe me, I know," Hailstorm said with a smirk. "There's this story about Blueblood..."

Lemon laughed. "Oh, I remember that one! It was one of his favourites. He told that to everypony!"

Misty just stared at them, frowning. Lemon Frisk shook his head, and looked at Hailstorm. "You never even told her that one?" he asked.

Hailstorm shrugged. "She's never been very interested in Stable history."

Lemon Frisk smiled at Misty. "Right, well, you just have to hear this one. During the war, Summer Rain was working on some project for some noble houses, led by Prince Blueblood. Now, Blueblood was quite infamous for being a stuck up pain in the ass. Unsurprisingly, Summer Rain and him didn't get along at all. Eventually, Rain got fed up with the prince, and came up with his own idea to make the guy lighten up a bit."

He grinned at Misty. "And then he tried to buy the prince a prostitute."

Hailstorm grinned. "I love that guy."

Moonstorm shook her head and rolled her eyes. She had clearly heard the story before. Misty just facehoofed.

"Blueblood was screaming to have him drawn and quartered," Lemon continued, grinning. "Rain got away with it, somehow. He always did."

He paused, and looked at Hailstorm again. "So, what happened next, after the door closed?"

"Oddly enough," Hailstorm continued, "Summer Rain wasn't responsible for what we generally refer to as 'the initial craziness'. Apparently, he left behind some ponies that were pretty important to him. Friends and family. It struck him pretty hard. Those other nine bucks though, they went wild, big time, with any mare that was willing. I think even Apple Pie got a few special hospital visits. Summer put a stop to it. The first thing he did, even before they started working on a breeding plan, was get the fabricator to produce condoms."

Lemon Frisk blinked. "I did not see that coming."

"And sex toys. 'To keep the mares calm'. There's rumours he modeled for them."

Lemon groaned. "Yes. That's him all right."

"Anyway," Hailstorm continued, "after that, he got everypony to write down their complete genealogy, and worked together with the geneticist, Life Weaver, to set up the breeding program. Any mares that were pregnant from the initial craziness were excluded, and inserted after the child's father was confirmed."

Hailstorm paused, and looked at Lemon Frisk. "Now, here's the most important part. After that was taken care of, he got ponies collecting information. Science, philosophy, recent and ancient history, and anything else they didn't have books of, was all written down to the best of their knowledge. Any books ponies had brought inside were pooled together in one central library. All of that information was inserted into the maneframe, to be reprinted for future generations. There's an audio log of Scootaloo going over the point of the experiment, and the Overstallion's role in it. Rain ignored it completely, and put a huge effort into preserving our culture."

Lemon Frisk blinked. Apparently, Summer Rain had been quite a bit more than a few crazy stories and a reputation of never sleeping alone.

"He was a great fan of comic books himself," Hailstorm said, smiling. "He brought in a small library of them. Transformares, Daring Do, Mare-Do-Well, Lunar Defenders, the Batmare, and a bunch more. We probably have the most extensive library of pre-war and wartime popular culture you could imagine."

"So that's why Fog Light knew Daring Do," Lemon Frisk said. "Heck, I grew up with these books! It's pretty weird to meet kids that are into the stuff I read as a kid... two hundred and twenty years ago."

"We don't have the books, though," Hailstorm said. "Just the comic book versions."

The conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door. Moonstorm got up, and let in a familiar-looking white earth pony.

"Winter Gale!" she said, smiling. "How are you, dear?"

Lemon Frisk cocked his eyebrow. The young stallion standing in the doorway was the pony that had shot him when they'd first arrived.

"I'm all right, auntie," he said. "I'd like to speak to Lemon Frisk, please."

"Of course," Moonstorm said. "Come on in."

The white pony gave a short nod to his cousin and uncle, and looked at Lemon Frisk. "Uh... I—"

"If you've come here to apologise," Lemon Frisk said, "don't bother. It was an honest mistake, and I'm just as alive as I was before, so, no harm done."

"...right," Winter Gale said, somewhat overwhelmed. "But... I heard you say on the radio, you're... going to hunt those zombies, in the city."

Lemon Frisk nodded. "That's the plan, yes."

"I want in," Winter Gale said, his nervousness replaced by absolute conviction.

Lemon blinked. "Uhh... I'm not sure if that's such a good idea. You were kinda, um, twitchy."

"I know," Winter Gale continued. "But I need this. Those things killed four of my best friends. I want to make sure they don't harm anypony ever again. I need to do something!"

Lemon Frisk looked at Misty, who frowned for a second, before giving a short nod. Lemon sighed. "Well, the resident shrink agrees," he said. "I think she just messed up her Romantic Outing For Two though, so you better be grateful."

Misty's face tuned red. "Wha- But you planned—" She let out a frustrated shout. "Agh!"

Winter Gale gave them a confused look, then promptly decided to ignore the whole exchange. He gave Lemon Frisk a nervous nod. "Thanks."

Lemon Frisk grinned. "Yeah. We're gonna be the best of friends."

Footnote: Sorry, no level up for just hanging around in a Stable all day.
Special perk: Agoraphobia. You don't generally have a problem with open spaces, but that was just one dimension too many. Luckily, the next time this makes you freeze up will probably be whenever you're falling to your death anyway.

Day Seven - Do You Want to Live Forever?

View Online

DAY SEVEN
Do You Want to Live Forever?
or are you simply stuck?

One of the disadvantages of a Stable was that there were no clocks, anywhere. Everypony had a pipbuck, and inside the stable it synchronised with the maneframe automatically, so everypony was basically wearing a rather heavy wristwatch. Lemon Frisk glanced at the staticky screen on his own pipleg, and sighed inwardly.

Carefully, he leaned towards Misty to look at her pipbuck. As he expected, it was still a few solid hours before morning. After skillfully switching his once-again captured leg with Misty's original pillow, he silently walked out of the residence, into the Stable corridors. There was one luxury of the Stable he had really missed, and before they were leaving, he'd bloody well get it. He'd traveled for six days now, and had spent that time burying charred corpses in Scorch Mark, getting shot at by zebronies (or whatever you should call those), raiders and a Stable door guard, and reliving some of the worst memories of his life.

He really needed a shower.

He had already noticed Stable 69, unlike Stable One, had no showers in the residences, which would inevitably mean there was one central communal shower area. Once again missing the basic luxury of a working pipbuck, though, he had no way of knowing where it was.

As he walked through the dimly lit corridors, he heard hoofsteps approaching. He decided to call out to the other pony, to reduce the risk of scaring him or her away.

"Hello?" he said. "I need some directions."

The security pony, a mare with a purple coat and a flashlight as a cutie mark, rounded a corner, and shone her flashlight on the ground before Lemon Frisk. She blinked a few times.

"Oh," she said. "You're that ghoul, aren't you?"

"Yep. I'm Lemon Frisk," he said with a nod. "I'm kinda looking to take a shower. Since I don't sleep anyway, I thought I could make good use of lost time, and do it now. But uh, I don't know where to find 'em."

The guard nodded. "I'm Blacklight. The showers are on level three. You'll have to take the elevators to get to them."

"Oh. Thanks. Are there any, uh, signs, there?"

The mare instinctively looked at his pipbuck, but quickly realised her mistake when she saw the mangled mess with the staticky screen. "Oh. Right. No plans, huh? I guess I'll come along with you."

As they made their way to the elevator, Lemon Frisk noticed she kept glancing at him. He sighed. "What?"

"Sorry!" Blacklight said. "It's just... I, well, never saw anypony like you before."

Lemon squinted his eyes. "Don't you dare poke me."

Blacklight frowned. "Poke you? Why in name of the Forefathers would I want to poke you?"

"That's what I keep wondering," Lemon Frisk replied. "But Misty still keeps doing it."

Blacklight raised an eyebrow. "Well, I have no such intentions."

They had reached the elevator, and Blacklight pushed the button to open it. In the brighter light in the elevator, she got a better look at Lemon Frisk's appearance.

"How did you get like that?" she asked. "I mean, undead, and all that."

"Huh." Lemon Frisk frowned. "Didn't I explain that on the radio?"

Blacklight shook her head. "I'm pretty sure you didn't. You just sort of rambled on about being an ex-pony."

"Yeah, we got a bit carried away there, heh," Lemon said, grinning apologetically. "Basically, the poisons used in the war were necromantic. A small portion of those that died from them got back up. And a small portion of those didn't become mindless monsters."

"So, you died, soaked in necromantic poison?" she asked.

"Yeah. The Pink Cloud of Canterlot," he replied. "Nasty stuff."

"Aren't you kind of saturated with that stuff, then?"

Lemon blinked. "I guess? It generally doesn't come out, though. And nowadays, I live on radiation."

The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. The two ponies walked out, but Blacklight didn't walk on. "You do realise the Stable is a closed water circuit, right? Anything that goes down the shower's drains is eventually recycled for the plants and ponies. It might not be a good idea to mix trace amounts of necromantic poisons into that."

Lemon Frisk groaned. "What, so you're saying I can't take a shower? It's been a bloody week! Seriously! This is how stereotypes about bad-smelling ghouls are born! I swear, most of those idiots think that dying is an excuse to stop showering! Just because they don't sweat anymore..."

"Well, radiation is one thing; we got filters for that. But that pink cloud, uh, really, no way."

"So, what, I just need to take a dip into the Lakes of Whinnyapolis then?" Lemon grumbled.

Blacklight gave him a pensive look, and then smiled. "We do have another shower, actually. One that isn't linked to the recycler. Though if radiation keeps you alive, I guess I'd better reconfigure it not to spray Anti-Rad."

Lemon Frisk smiled. "Of couse. The decontamination shower." He looked at the elevator, which was just beginning to close again. He pushed the button next to it to reopen it. "Up to the Door level then, I guess?"

Blacklight smiled. "Let me grab you some shampoo first, now we're here anyway."

"I got shampoo!" Lemon Frisk said, nodding towards the saddlebags on his back.

Blacklight stopped. "Oh. Where'd you get it?"

"Canterlot. Scavenged it."

Blacklight frowned. "Doesn't that mean it's, uh, very likely also saturated with that pink poison stuff?"

Lemon blinked. "Bloody hell! That's why nopony else would scavenge it!"

The security mare gave him an unsure look. "I'll just... grab you a bottle, okay? I suggest you get rid of that stuff once you go outside again. Can't be healthy for those around you."

* * *

A bit later, they were standing in the main entrance hall of the Stable, its big cogwheel-shaped door still wide open. To the side, Lemon Frisk could see the radiation cleansing shower. He followed Blacklight into the small control room.

The mare went over the controls with surprising swiftness, and it didn't take long to reroute the showers to spray water.

"Done!" Blacklight said. "I hope you don't mind a cold shower, though; the hot water circuit simply doesn't go here. This is actually just meant to clean the anti-rad out of the pipes."

"No problem," Lemon said. "Not like I have a body temperature to keep up."

"Don't worry about the lost water, by the way," she said. "I heard the WRD is working on a water reclamation project. Apparently rain water is practically radiation free, after it rained the dust out of the air."

"Thanks. You're really good with this stuff. I mean, for a security mare."

"Oh. Yeah, well, I'm actually from the night patrol crew on the deeper levels. The pumps and recycler, and all that. We're trained to fix pretty much anything, so we don't have to wake up Maintenance for every small problem. But with the city excursion, they've been kinda low on security ponies, so they dragged me up here."

Lemon nodded. "I see. Well, I'm off to shower, I guess."

* * *

Lemon Frisk entered the shower, and saw Blacklight behind the glass of the control room. She didn't seem to take much notice of him; she was only there to shut off the water when he was done, after all. She seemed to be keeping herself busy fiddling with her pipbuck.

Lemon quickly washed himself, and let the cold water soak his body. The water streams were much harder than what he was used to in Stable One. They weren't meant to be gentle.

He remembered showers like that.

~~~

"Room f'r one more, pony?"

Lemon Frisk looked up at the biped canine walking into the shower. "Wasn't planning on wet dog smell in my shower, but sure, knock yourself out, T.B."

"Fonny as alvays, Tvitchy." The female Diamond Dog grinned. "Yoo gets de schedule for tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Obstacle course, again. Then gun training."

"Didn't find moch obstacle last time."

Lemon Frisk smiled. "There was a note at the bottom. «No digging allowed. If any part of the course has to be rebuilt again, I'm gonna have your hide, T.B.!»"

"Ah vell. Fon vhile it lasted. How's tings vith yoo, Tvitchy? Ken't be eezy, stuck here vit da tuff guys fer months."

"It ain't too bad. And I gotta do it anyway." He looked at the wet dog and smiled. "I mean, would you take orders from some Ministry of Morale bastard that hasn't even gone through boot camp?"

"Hah. I see. Not a chence. At leest yoo iz in good company! De lady in de mess, ve seen yoo look at her, Tvitchy. She nice pony, yah?"

Lemon Frisk sighed. "Blossom Tree?" He smiled. "Oh yeah. She's a really nice pony."

~~~

Memories.

Lemon Frisk stared in front of him, without seeing the white wall of the decontamination shower. Memories kept flooding in. His selection as crisis manager. The mandatory military training. Meeting Blossom Tree in the mess hall of the base. That evening when T.B. and the others had locked the two of them inside said mess hall, to get him to finally talk to her.

Something had changed, since he met Misty. He'd been on a mad dash, day and night, trying to outrun his memories. All of them. Just because they had ended so badly. Now he had finally let the bad ones catch up with him, he was remembering things he'd stuffed away together with those.

"You weren't kidding. That is spooky. His eyes are wide open."

The voices didn't really reach him. He was still lost in his own world, standing there, staring at nothing. He hadn't even noticed Blacklight had turned off the water more than half an hour ago.

"You think he's still alive? This is freaking me out. What should we do?"

His son. Finally, he could think about his son again, without just seeing lifeless eyes staring back at him. He could think about Blossom Tree's face, without the constant reminder it was melted into a wall in Stable One.

It wasn't just the talking that had done it. Adjusting to Misty's sleep pattern had left him quietly watching over her at night. It had forced him to stop. To just sit down and do nothing, and let his mind rest. He never realised how much he'd needed that rest. Ghouls didn't sleep...

...did they?

"I'll go get Misty. She'll know what to do. Hopefully."

* * *

As a matter of fact, Misty knew exactly what to do. One firm poke in the side was really all it took to get a sign of life from the old ghoul. That sign was, of course, a surprised whinny followed by an indignant glare at the owner of the appendage that had committed the offending action. Unsurprisingly, touching him was the one thing Blacklight, and the colleague she'd called in, had not tried.

"Equestria to Lemon Frisk?" Misty said, smiling. "Are you okay?"

Lemon Frisk blinked. "Misty! Uh, I think so," he said. He looked around, and realised where he was. "Oh. The shower. Right."

The two security ponies looked at each other, and, seeing as everything seemed to be all right, they decided to leave the two alone.

Misty gave the ghoul an inquisitive look. "What happened to you?"

Lemon walked towards the door of the decontamination room, where Blacklight had dropped off some towels. Misty followed him. He turned towards her and gave her a radiant smile. "I think I slept!"

Misty gave him a puzzled look. "You look like you figured something out. Care to share?"

"Nothing too world-shattering," Lemon Frisk said, pulling a towel onto his hoof and carefully starting to dry off his head. "I've just been... remembering stuff, lately. All the bad stuff that happened to me. Everything I'd repressed."

Misty nodded. "Go on..."

"Stop that!" Lemon Frisk said, glaring at her.

Misty grinned. "Sorry. Force of habit."

Lemon Frisk rolled his eyes. "Anyway. I just remembered something that wasn't awfully messed up, for once." He smiled. "A happy memory."

"Oh? Do tell."

Lemon Frisk paused to dry himself off further. "Do you mind?" he asked, when noticing how the mare was eyeing his every move.

"Nope," Misty said, grinning. "Do you?"

Lemon Frisk shot her a glare. "Out. Now."

"All right, all right," Misty said, walking out of the decontamination shower and waiting just outside. She left the door ajar. "But tell me, what was it you remembered?"

"Blossom Tree," Lemon Frisk's voice came from behind the door. "I met her when I was going through basic training here in Whinnyapolis; she worked in the mess hall. I was just remembering when T.B. and the others locked the two of us inside together."

Misty grinned. "I gather it worked?"

"Still wanted to buck T.B. in the face for that, though. I was so embarrassed! She had no business messing with that!"

"You, embarrassed?" Misty laughed. "Sorry, but I really can't imagine you as shy teenager not daring to ask a mare out."

Lemon Frisk groaned. "Yeah well, even if life gives you a whole damn lemon tree, you still have to reach out and pick the lemons. T.B.'s way of handling that problem was to dynamite the tree so it'd fall on top of me."

"Who was this T.B.?" Misty asked. "She sounds like quite a character to me."

"She was our squad leader. Well, technically not my squad, I was just there for the basic training, but still... I was sort of part of the group. Honorary member, if only for putting up with them. She was a Diamond Dog. She would've been Top Dog, but she was female, hence, Top Bitch. T.B."

"Charming nickname," Misty said.

"Charming canine, too," Lemon Frisk said as he opened the door and walked out. "Good-natured, with a mischievous streak a mile wide. She had this funny way of stepping way out of line without ever actually crossing the lines. Anything not explicitly forbidden was allowed as far as she was concerned, and she took any punishment with a smile. Nearly drove our drill instructor to depression. In the end, he tried taking it out on the rest of us, giving us punishment for the stuff she did wrong. That didn't work either; T.B. was our leader, and we'd take any flak for her. And her pranks were usually worth it, anyway."

"I never knew you had military training," Misty said. "Was that because of your Ministry work?"

Lemon Frisk nodded. "Ministry of Morale crisis managers get involved in all kinds of situations. We were allowed to take control of military personnel if we needed to, so they made sure we at least got some training to justify that."

Misty looked at the dawn sky outside the Stable Door. It was a gloomy morning, with no visible sunrise. "Did you ever see the front lines?"

"We had our own front lines. Terrorist bombings, theft of important documents and memory orbs, zebra assassins... I've seen them all. I wouldn't be surprised if some of the ancestors of the Slags were down there because of me."

"Zebra assassins? Sounds dangerous."

"Yeah, after dealing with one of these guys I definitely never regretted those hours of sparring with a diamond dog. Those zebra bastards were vicious."

The two ponies walked outside, and looked at the immense remains of the once mighty city. Lemon Frisk was once again struck by the stark constrast between his memories and the city's current state. The city used to pulse with energy, dirty and dangerous, but alive and wonderful. The current ruin of Whinnyapolis was nothing like that. It just looked dead.

Lemon Frisk knew better than to trust that look, though. It'd be full of radroaches, ghouls, giant ants, and possibly even manticores. And if the wildlife wasn't enough, there were probably also plenty of old malfunctioning security systems, possibly with roboponies.

"I wonder if there are any ponies down there," Misty said, apparently thinking along the same lines. "Living ones, I mean. Scavengers, and traders. We should've asked Capsworth about that, actually. I'm sure he would've known."

Lemon Frisk shrugged. "Too late for that now." He threw another look at the city in the distance, and walked through the Door again. "Come on, we better get ready."

* * *

When they arrived at the living quarters of Misty's parents, Winter Gale was already there, fully packed, but, without his battle saddle. Slung across his chest were two gun holsters, each holding a pretty impressive Ironshod pistol.

"You left the big guns at home?" Lemon Frisk asked. "We might need them, you know."

The white stallion gave him an unsure look. "Uh, we really only had one of those. And Misty kinda... destroyed it."

Lemon blinked. "That's right... what's up with that anyway?" He turned to Misty. "In the Sparkle-Cola factory, you wrenched open a door nopony had managed to open for two hundred years, and here at the stable, you crushed a freaking huge rifle like it was made of tinfoil. Are you sure you're not some illegitimate offspring of Twilight Sparkle?"

Moonstorm chuckled. "I doubt that. She's not too good with magic, overall. It only happens when she panics."

"Mom!" Misty yelled, visibly embarrassed. Chaotic release of powerful magic was not a positive thing for a unicorn; in fact, since it most often happened with babies, it was quite akin to bedwetting.

Hailstorm looked at the two with an amused look on his face. "I remember when you got your cutie mark. We weren't sure it was because you helped that filly, or because you could throw couches around when someone jumped out and yelled 'boo' at you."

"Oh, be kind," Lemon Frisk interjected. "Both of the magic boosts I've seen seemed to have been aimed quite specifically." He decided not to continue the bedwetting simile, even mentally.

He grabbed his saddle bags, and slung them across his back. "Right. Misty and I both got ourselves some new armament in Hayden, but we haven't actually used it yet. Misty, you still got my old mouth gun, too. You can keep that if you want, but keep it more accessible."

"Would that even stop a ghoul?" she asked.

"Sure, if you hit it in the face." He smirked at her. "You can always just freak out and throw a house at it, though."

Misty rolled her eyes, but still smiled at him. "So much for being kind."

* * *

It didn't take the three ponies long to get ready. Misty had always kept her stuff packed, since she never planned on staying, and Lemon Frisk didn't really have anywhere to unpack anyway. Winter Gale made a quick trip to Security to get Misty a holster for Lemon Frisk's gun, and some extra ammo. Misty took the opportunity to take a quick shower. As soon as they were all ready, they made their way to the Door.

They found an unfamiliar stallion waiting for them there. Well, unfamiliar to Lemon Frisk, anyway. Misty and Gale seemed to know him all too well.

"Greetings!" the purple-maned stallion said to Lemon Frisk. A cutie mark of a computer terminal was visible on his pale green coat. "Wow, I almost missed you. That'd be really embarassing. Stupid WRD, monopolising your time." He cleared his throat. "Ahem. Eh, I'm Vector Field, the Overstallion of Stable 69."

Lemon Frisk glanced at his companions, unsure what to do. Misty put on a sour face, and Gale rolled his eyes. That didn't help very much. Vector Field looked at Lemon Frisk almost pleadingly, as if he fully expected him to just walk past him without saying a word. The Overstallion position was clearly a pale shadow of the days of Summer Rain.

Lemon decided to play it tactfully, and smiled. "Hi. I'm Lemon Frisk, as you, eh, probably already know, seeing as you waited here for me, and you're the Overstallion, and all. Um. How can I help you?"

Vector Field gave him an excited smile. "Oh! Well, I really just wanted to meet you, actually. With you being, guest of honour and all."

Lemon Frisk decided not to glance back at his companions. He could almost hear Misty's eyes rolling. "Right," he said. "Well, it's very nice to meet you, Vector Field. It seems the WRD has pretty much replaced you here, hm?"

Vector Field nodded sadly. "Yes, they pretty much have. I wasn't even involved in the decision to open the Door, imagine that. It's been like that from before I was Overstallion, though. Ever since the WRD was set up, they've been handling more and more of the Stable's affairs."

Lemon smiled, and faced his two companions. "Can you wait outside? I think I have some things to discuss with this gentlestallion."

Misty Cloud raised an eyebrow, her look clearly telling him that Vector wasn't worth the effort, but his own stern look made her give up and go on. Winter Gale followed his cousin closely.

Lemon Frisk turned to the Overstallion. "Take my advice," he said, suddenly very seriously. "Organise an excursion to the west. You will find an abandoned Sparkle Cola factory there. If you get there within this week, you should find people from two nearby settlements there; ponies and half-zebras. They're trying to set up a farming operation together, and for that, they'll need crops. Apple trees, cauliflower, broccoli... all things you have here. Your Stable will need a figurehead when trading with other communities. You can earn back your position by being that figurehead."

Vector Field blinked at him, dumbstruck, then nodded. "Th-thank you."

Lemon Frisk gave Vector a short nod, and turned towards the door. "Don't get shot," he said. "Ponies out there are mighty twitchy." He walked through the door, without looking back at the Overstallion. A smile crept over his face. Just add a lot of little bits together, and we might just get there, he thought. And that's another little bit taken care of.

* * *

The trip to the city was a lot quieter than Lemon Frisk had expected. Winter Gale was a pretty quiet guy, overall. Spray Paint had been quiet too, but he hadn't hesitated to throw in a snide comment at the right time. Winter Gale, on the other hand, was just plain shy. Lemon would've wondered how he ever got into security, if the crosshair on the pony's flank hadn't already revealed his special talent. Lemon just hoped he'd actually use it when they were being attacked by rabid ghouls.

As they moved through the suburbs, Lemon Frisk couldn't help once again comparing the city with how he'd known it. Canterlot sort of just rotted away, and since he was in it when it happened, he never really saw the sheer contrast of the living city with the dead one. The only immediate difference had been the dead and the ghouls. But here... with his memories refreshed just mere hours ago, it just made him sad. This had been the rich neighbourhood of Whinnyapolis. Expensive-looking mansions had been blown apart like stacked playing cards, their private swimming pools either cracked and empty, or filled with stinking brown sludge and undoubtedly turned into breeding grounds for some sort of mutated insect monstrosities. He'd never seen live bloatsprites or paradores, but he'd read about them in the guide, and he wasn't too keen on meeting them while travelling with two ponies who could actually die.

"Hey, Winter Gale?" he asked.

The white stallion turned to him. "Yeah?"

"Did you meet any insects here? Like, big nasty things."

"Oh! Yeah. We cleared out a few nests of them in some of these pools. Nasty stingers, but they went down pretty easily." He frowned. "I guess I never even reported that," he said, going back to his usual dimuitive voice. "I was too shaken."

Lemon smiled at him. "Oh, don't worry about that. They're in that Guide we gave 'em. I just thought these pools looked dangerous. If you already got rid of them, all the better."

Misty frowned. "The zombies up ahead will be plenty dangerous, though. We better look ou—"

"Incoming!" Winter Gale hissed suddenly, hitting the ground and grabbing his gun. Neither Misty nor Lemon saw anything though, until a ghoul jumped out of the ruins of a nearby building and launched itself straight at Misty. Winter Gale fired his gun, and the ghoul's head exploded, mere inches from Misty's face. The monster dropped on top of her, the remains of its head sprayed all over her.

"What's the matter with you?" Gale asked, almost panicking again. "I thought you two were good at this!"

"H-how did you do that?" Misty asked, frantically kicking the dead ghoul off herself.

"S.A.T.S.," Winter Gale said. "You didn't even check the manuals, did you?"

Lemon Frisk looked at Gale. "Wait... your entire squad had trouble taking out these ghouls while using E.F.S. and S.A.T.S.?"

"I am a security pony, you know," Gale said, nervously scanning the area around them. "It's kind of, standard training. But they showed up as friendlies, and there was a weird glowing one with them. Whenever it came near the others, they just got back up."

"Time out," Misty said, having liberated herself from the decapitated ghoul. "What on earth are you two talking about?"

Lemon Frisk sighed. "I'm sorry," he said to Winter Gale. "This is kinda my fault. I had the training, but those systems haven't worked ever since this blasted thing melted into my leg." He turned to Misty. "You kinda got, um, a detection system in there. Look for it in the settings. It's called Eyes Forward Sparkle. It detects creatures and ponies around you even if you can't see them, and it can somehow see if they're hostile."

Misty's mouth hung open, and her eyes widened. "What?" she said, weakly.

Lemon went on, not noticing Misty's distress. "S.A.T.S., or the Stable-Tec Arcane Targeting Spell, temporarily freezes your perception of time, allowing you to line up shots at enemies. When the time-suspension ends, you actually perform the actions you did during the slow time, as fast as you possibly could. I think that's what you just saw Winter Gale do."

Misty stared at Lemon. "Y-you mean..." she said, the words barely audible. Her voice picked up a bit of volume as she went on. "Oh Goddesses. All this time, we walked around with that. If we'd known this..." She looked at her pipbuck, disbelief in her eyes. "We didn't even know what we were carrying. Pipbucks are just..."

"Glorified alarm clocks," Winter Gale said. "I know. Most ponies don't have a clue what a powerful weapon a pipbuck can be."

Misty stared at the deceptively simple thing on her leg. "Big Apple would still be alive if—"

Lemon Frisk shook his head. "Your father was right, Misty," he cut in. "This is the WRD's fault. They should've been training everypony before opening that door."

The three stood there in silence. The fact Winter Gale allowed this told Lemon Frisk he hadn't spotted any immediate threats. Still, distressing as the new information was to Misty, they had to go on. If she seriously wanted to leave her Stable forever, she had to get familiar with both systems.

"Come on," Lemon said, walking up to Misty and looking down at her pipbuck. "Let's get you acquainted with these systems."

Misty nodded, and raised her pipbuck to her face, using the mental commands to go through the lists until she found E.F.S. She blinked when it activated. "Woah. This is weird."

Lemon smiled. "See anything?"

"Yeah," she said, nodding. "Some information on my health and radiation levels. Blue indicators on you two. Hmm... and something red, behind you."

Lemon and Gale turned around immediately, but Gale relaxed. "Bloatsprite. It hasn't seen us yet. You can pretty much kill those by throwing rocks at them. Just don't let them shoot their needles at you; that's some nasty stuff."

"A rock, huh?" Misty looked on her pipbuck and found the S.A.T.S. option. She lifted a nearby rock with her magic. She suddenly paused, looking at Lemon and Gale. "Can I use S.A.T.S. with a rock?"

Lemon Frisk smiled. "Sure. You can use it for hoof-to-hoof combat, if you need to. It's pretty versatile that way."

Misty nodded, a concentrated look on her face. "All right. Let's try this."

The orange glow launched the rock at the insect with surprising force. The bug blew apart in big leathery chunks.

Misty smiled. "I could get used to that!"

Lemon Frisk nods at her encouragingly. "Great! Next time, please use a gun though. Ghouls won't go down that easily."

Misty floated the gun out of its holster, and looked at it. "I've, uh, never really used those things. Except on that melted ghoul."

Winter Gale smiled. "If you ever come back to the Stable, I'll be happy to get you some gun training."

"Fat chance," Misty replied. "No, I can handle this. I mean, with this S.A.T.S stuff, I should be all right, no?"

Lemon Frisk raised his eyebrow. "You're still the one taking the shots. It's only as good as you are." He glanced at the bloatsprite corpse. "You're just pretty good at throwing rocks."

* * *

It didn't take them long to find the ghouls. As Winter Gale had said, they showed up as blue pips on Misty and Gale's E.F.S. Lemon Frisk went on alone to check it out, leaving the other two hiding in the still mostly standing remains of a large mansion.

There were about a dozen of them, flocking together around a ghoul that was literally glowing with radiation. Blue radiation. Lemon Frisk frowned. First the Shard, now this ghoul... something strange was going on. He'd never heard of blue radiation before. He decided to spend some other time overthinking that issue, though. Right now, he had to figure out how to take out that glowing ghoul without getting torn to shreds by the others.

He noticed a few of the ghouls seemed to be wearing the same familiar pieces of clothing. They were tattered, torn and nearly rotted away, but still clearly blue. Stable uniforms. His gaze immediately drifted down to their forelegs, and, indeed, all of them were wearing pipbucks.

The males of Stable 69. Part of the 25% he had calculated to have gone back to the city. Lemon Frisk sighed. Sometimes, he just wished he was wrong when he said things like that. No wonder they showed up as friendlies; their pipbuck ID signal probably made other Stable 69 pipbucks ignore the actual hostility check.

He looked at the ghouls. Twelve of them, swarming around the glowing one. He'd need a grenade or something to clear them out. He never thought of getting stuff like that in Hayden. All he had were some guns, and a ton of bottlecaps. He quietly snuck back to the other two, and told them his findings.

Misty gave him an incredulous look. "Twelve!? That's more than those raiders at the factory! And we had an army to back us up, there."

"They're slightly less intelligent than raiders though," Lemon said, smirking. "I could pull off the same plan."

Misty shook her head. "You may survive getting riddled with bullets, but these ponies bite chunks out of you! They'll rip you to shreds! And even if you kill that glowing one first, it won't magically stop glowing. It'll keep healing the others."

"And me," Lemon remarked.

Misty let out a tired sigh. "And you. But not enough. It'll still be twelve to one!"

Winter Gale looked at the two. "Um... I think I got an idea. It's risky, though."

Lemon turned to him. "Please, do tell. Risky is better than nothing."

Gale nodded. "All right. Lemon, if you sneak around them, and we start shooting, they'll come stampeding towards us. If you run with them, you could take out the glowing one without them noticing. If they keep coming to us, they'll move away from the glow."

"No!" Lemon said, resolutely shaking his head. "That'll put you two at risk!"

Winter Gale nodded. "I know. But you're the only one who can get in between them."

"Discord's beard," Lemon Frisk grumbled. "What was I thinking, getting us into this?"

Misty smirked. "You were thinking," she said, "that our Stable security ponies were as clueless out there as I was. And, you were wrong."

"Yes, thank you," Lemon said flatly. "Anything more helpful to add to that?"

She nodded. "You're afraid of losing me," she said, in a more serious tone. "I'm the first person you bonded with in two centuries, and it makes you deathly afraid to put a horde of ghouls between the two of us, because there's no way you could possibly get to me if I need saving."

Lemon Frisk's eyes narrowed. "Don't psychoanalyse me."

She smirked. "You asked."

"Well, can you blame me?" he spat back. "You barely know how to hold a gun! Or... float it up, or whatever."

"I never said I blamed you," Misty retorted. "But you're going to have to trust us here."

Lemon sighed. "This is madness. We should just go back."

Winter Gale shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere until those things are killed."

Misty and Lemon exchanged a worried glance at those words. Perhaps bringing Gale along hadn't been such a good idea after all. They could both hear the unspoken "or I am" at the end of his sentence. They were both intimately familiar with the concept of survivor's guilt.

"That's... not a very healthy attitude, you know," Lemon remarked.

Winter Gale shrugged. "There's nothing else in the Stable that can help us anyway, and nopony else who wants to or dares to. And somepony has to clean up this city eventually. Might as well be us."

"I guess you got a point," Lemon said. "But, no heroics. We're all in this together."

* * *

Lemon Frisk snuck around the ghouls a second time. They stared back at him with dull, vacant eyes, but let him go about his business. He glanced back at the mansion in the distance, and sighed. She'd been right, of course. He had grown really fond of her, and compared to him, she was so fragile. He was reminded of an old wasteland paradox he'd heard from some merchant that wandered into Stable One. In the Wastelands, you need friends to survive... but not true friends. True friends just die and make you stop wanting to survive. Perhaps that's why the guy had been crazy enough to go to Canterlot in the first place.

He sighed, and walked towards the blue glowing pony in the middle of the group. Winter Gale would start shooting from the moment he reached it.

* * *

"He's in position," Misty Cloud said, lowering her binoculars. The two were standing outside the villa, far enough to go unnoticed by the ghouls, but close enough to shoot at them. "Look, Gale... you don't have to do this, you know."

Winter Gale smiled, without looking away from the ghouls. "Bad time to finally start doing your job."

Misty stared to the ground. "I'm sorry. I should've been there for you."

He shook his head. "You left. That was your choice. You can't blame yourself for what happened to us afterwards." He finally looked at her. "Misty... I don't blame you. I blame those undead abominations down there. So please, let's focus on taking them out."

Misty nodded, and floated out the shotgun Lemon Frisk had picked out for her in Hayden. It was a unicorn weapon; a gun that kicked like an angry mule, and that would kick out the teeth of anypony stupid enough to fire it by mouth. Which was exactly why it didn't have a mouth trigger. She wondered who ever came up with the trigger design for it, though. Maybe it had been made for griffins, or something.

She tried aiming it at the ghouls, but Winter Gale shook his head. "Not yet. Wait until they're close. A shotgun is a powerful weapon, but it doesn't have much power at that range." He looked at his cousin. "Oh, and don't aim it even slightly towards a friendly target; it spreads."

Misty nodded nervously, getting really close to reconsidering Gale's offer of going back to the Stable for gun training. She hoped Lemon Frisk would stay far behind the rest.

"Right. Get ready," Winter Gale said. He grabbed one of the heavy Ironshod revolvers in his mouth.

* * *

A loud shot cracked through the air. One of the ghouls at the edge of the group fell down, its head reduced to a slimy crater. The others looked up at the source of the sound, let out terrible shrieks, and dashed off.

Lemon Frisk didn't waste any time. He bit the glowing ghoul in the neck, pulled it down to the ground, and crushed its neck with his hooves. Not taking any chances with something that regenerated, he used his teeth to pull the head off completely.

He looked up to see how far the others had gone on, only to find his view blocked by four of them looking at him, and standing way too close to the still-glowing ghoul corpse.

"Ah, crap!" He ran to the side, trying to get around them, but they cut him off quickly. Beyond them, he saw a glimpse of the other seven, running towards his companions.

* * *

"He's pinned!" Misty yelled. She looked at the remaining ghouls galloping towards them with deadly madness in their eyes. "Can we handle those?"

Winter Gale fired another shot, and another ghoul went down. "Dowt it," he said, through the gun in his mouth. "Fiwe shome shotsh, am' get rewwy to rum back imto de housh."

Misty frantically activated her S.A.T.S. and targeted the closest ghoul. With its head only showing a mere 15% hit chance, she aimed both of the gun's shots at it.

When the spell finished, the shotgun roared once. The second shot never came, on account of the gun getting blown out of Misty's magic field. Panicked, she ran back to retrieve it, not even noticing the ghoul she targeted was now missing half of its face.

"Rum!" Winter Gale yelled behind her. He fired another shot and cursed, joining Misty in a mad run towards the mansion.

The two ponies rushed inside, quickly followed by the ghouls. In the cramped corridor, Misty's shotgun would probably be an ideal weapon, but with her S.A.T.S. spell still recharging, all she managed to accomplish was blowing a sizable chunk out of the already decaying wall. The doors they slammed into the ghouls' faces did little to slow them down, and they ended up running up a decaying wooden staircase in an attempt to stay ahead.

The two rushed to the end of the long corridor, and slammed the door shut behind them. Misty frantically rummaged through her saddlebags with her magic, and levitated two new shotgun shells out to put into her weapon.

She never got the chance to put them in her weapon; three screaming ghouls crashed through the rotted door.

* * *

Struggling through a barrage of rotting hooves and teeth, Lemon Frisk finally managed to grab his gun, and finished the ghouls off quickly. They had done quite some damage; his skin was torn in several spots, and a large chunk of his neck was ripped open.

Canterlot ghouls were pretty much indestructible due to their regenerative ability, but most preferred using healing potions anyway, because the process was far from pleasant. The flesh hanging from Lemon Frisk's neck started to hiss as small wisps of pink cloud started coming out of the wound. The slab curled back up and glued itself seamlessly back to the rest of his neck. Lemon Frisk winced at the sensation, and wondered how much longer he'd be able to do that, now he was out of Canterlot.

He looked up as he heard gunshots coming from the mansion, and dashed on. As he ran through the broken front door, he started noticing small objects around him floating into the air, suspended in an orange aura. He ran farther and entered the main hall, where one of the ghouls was frantically jumping in a useless attempt to get up a collapsed staircase. The walls glowed orange too, now, and Lemon saw the ghoul enveloped in the same aura.

"Discord's testicles!" he yelled, as he ran back towards the door. He ignored the orange glow pulling at his saddlebags, and flung himself through the doorway.

Behind him, the whole left half of the mansion collapsed, a cloud of dust rolling to all sides.

"Misty!" he yelled, running into the dust cloud. He cursed his own lack of E.F.S. as he blindly walked into the rubble. The first thing he found was the ghoul he'd seen at the bottom of the stairs. The creature was quite dead, impaled on a large piece of wood that had fallen onto it. As the dust around him started to settle, he saw another rotten hoof sticking out of the large pile of rubble that used to be the mansion's left wing.

He looked around frantically, calling Misty's name, until he heard a hopeful sound coming from behind the left wing's remains: coughing. He ran towards the sound, and with a goopy splash, he fell right into a murky swimming pool.

"How nice of you to join us," Misty said weakly from the the other side of the pool. She was covered in slime and what seemed to be the remains of a bloatsprite's nest. Winter Gale was lying next to the pool, his soaked, previously-white coat showing he'd made the same dive to safety.

Lemon Frisk grumbled something that included another one of Discord's body parts, before raising his voice to audible levels. "Misty, next time you take my advice and drop a house on something that attacks us... please take one we're not inside of?"

* * *

"So, where to next?" Misty asked. She'd found an old curtain in the remains of the right wing, and was using it to wipe the muck off her coat. She was in a surprisingly good mood, after everything they'd been through, which made Lemon Frisk envy her ability to produce adrenalin.

"I'd like to go to the army cemetary," he said. "Pay my respects to some old friends."

"Um, they can't... come alive again, can they? As ghouls?" Misty asked, frowning.

Lemon Frisk laughed. "No, don't worry," he said. "It doesn't work that way. You actually have to die from radiation poisoning to become a ghoul." He looked at the east side of the city, and sighed. "No... these died from simple old-fashioned zebra bullets."

Winter Gale glanced at the big road leading back to the Stable. "I uh... won't be coming with you," he said.

Misty frowned. "You're not? We could use your help, to get there."

The young stallion shook his head resolutely. "I'm the only one left, Misty. The last of the original security force. They need me to train more ponies." He gave her a pleading look. "Come back with me. Just for some training. It'll help you, out here!"

Misty looked away. "I'm not going back there. It's too cramped."

Lemon Frisk rolled is eyes. "Right, right. You both got your minds set on your own goals. Let's just say goodbye like civilised ponies, and be on our way."

Gale gave him a grateful smile, and hugged Misty. "Take care, cousin," he said.

"You too, Security pony."

Lemon smiled. "Give my regards to Fog Light."

Winter Gale gave him a polite nod. "Will do," he said. "And I better tell the WRD about the E.F.S. problem."

Lemon frowned. "Ooh, yes. You need to get that fixed. There are about a thousand Stable 69 pipbucks out here. Whether they're on ghouls or not, seeing them all as friendly could be a problem in the future."

Gale nodded. "Well, bye then." He trotted back down the road they'd taken, towards the Stable.

Misty looked at Lemon Frisk. "So... let's find that graveyard of yours."

* * *

The clouds had gotten an orange shine to them, indicating that the day was nearing its end. Misty and Lemon were still making their way through the abandoned streets of Whinnyapolis.

"Are you sure we're going the right way?" Misty asked. "We've been walking for hours."

"We should be, yes," Lemon Frisk said. "What does your map say?"

"Nothing about a military graveyard. Maybe the whole thing was blown into the lakes."

Lemon shot her a sharp look. "Don't joke about that."

"I wasn't!" Misty shot back. "This place did get blown up with a balefire megaspell, you know!"

"Halt!" a gravelly, almost growling voice suddenly yelled at them. "You are entering a military zone! Please leave this area!"

The ghoul, dressed in the tattered remains of what had once been a beige military uniform, was standing in the remains of what had once been a gate. Lemon Frisk hadn't even noticed they had passed the remains of a fence, but apparently the ghoul had.

Misty frowned, remembering some things from her Wasteland Survival Guide. "Is that a Steel Ranger?"

Lemon Frisk shook his head. "I think we found the place I was looking for. He's Equestrian Military."

Misty's eyes widened. "You mean... he doesn't realise the war ended two cen—"

"Hush," Lemon Frisk cut her off. "I've seen this a few times in Stable One. This guy is balancing between what I am, and those rabid things we just killed. I don't want him tipping to the wrong side."

"Civilians!" the ghoul yelled at them. "Leave now, or I will be forced to use violence!"

Lemon Frisk walked towards the ghoul. "State your name and rank, please."

"Private Petal Luck. And you are?"

"My name is Lemon Frisk. I'm a crisis manager for the Ministry of Morale. When dealing with military crisis situations, that gives me an honorary rank of Master Sergeant."

"Sir!" the ghoul soldier said, standing to attention. "What about her, sir?"

"My personal secretary. I've come to take control of the Whinnyapolis situation."

"I see, sir. Do you have any news from high command? I haven't heard anything for weeks!"

"Weeks. Uhuh," Lemon Frisk said, suppressing a sigh. He realised the soldier might be a lost cause anyway. "How many weeks, private? Did you keep the logs?"

"Yes, sir! The logs are complete!"

Lemon smiled. "Come, we'll go over them."

They walked into the building. Misty stopped when Lemon's pipbuck started crackling.

"Ma'am? Are you coming?" Petal Luck asked.

Lemon Frisk glanced at his two companions, and disabled his rad-meter. "She'll stay here, to alert us if there are any trespassers."

The other ghoul nodded, and walked over to a desk. An orderly stack of notes was lying at the side. A broken mechanical clock showing both date and time was standing on the back of the desk. Lemon Frisk opened the last journal, and checked the date on the last entry. It was identical to the one on the clock. He frowned, went back a few pages, and checked the date. Again, it was identical to the clock. Every day, the ghoul had dutifully written down the clock's date in the journal, and reported the day's events. For two hundred years. He had never realised the clock broke about four years into his futile exercise.

Lemon Frisk knew this was a critical moment. Pointing out the mistake could send the ghoul over the edge. He just didn't know which edge. With Misty out of the way, he decided to risk it.

"Private, it seems your clock is broken," he said.

"I'm sorry, sir. I never checked."

Lemon Frisk nodded. "You have been writing down the same date in all of your previous entries, private. Could you please count the amount of entries for me, and tell me how long you've been making this mistake?"

The soldier looked uncomfortable now. He'd been caught making a mistake that messed up all the papework. Hesitantly, he went over the logs, page after page, desperate to find one with a different date. He felt a hoof on his shoulder.

"Calm down, private. I'm here to fix a mess, not to reprimand you. I just need you to tell me what time span we're talking about. Weeks? Months? Years?"

Petal Luck looked through the previous notebooks. "It can't be years, sir. It just... can't be." He grabbed notebook after notebook, looking at the first page, and seeing the same date. His face looked more desperate with every notebook he grabbed. "How long have I been here?! This is impossible!"

Lemon Frisk put his hoof on the pile of remaining notebooks, preventing Petal from taking the next one. "Tell me, private Petal Luck. How old were you when you joined the army?"

"T-thirty-four, sir," the ghoul stammered.

"And what, according to military rules, is the maximum age of an active soldier?"

"Fifty," Petal Luck said, the change of subject distracting him from the notebooks.

One by one, Lemon Frisk flicked the notebooks off the pile, onto the ground, until only the last one remained. He opened it, and showed Petal Luck the same accursed date. "This pile was approximately twenty years of notes. The cabinet behind me has at least five times as many. I'll spare you the counting, since I know how long you've been here. Two hundred years, private. Which means that, by Equestrian Law, you are no longer a soldier. You should've retired more than a hundred and eighty years ago."

"What?" the ghoul said, weakly.

"Rise and shine, Petal Luck. You're a free stallion. What do you wish to do with that freedom?"

"Sir, I can't—"

"Don't call me 'sir'. You're no longer a soldier."

"But I've been here so long! I can't just—"

Lemon looked at the ghoul soldier. "Two hundred years ago, this city was destroyed by balefire. Like it or not, you died in that explosion. The necromantic poisons brought you back. You've been guarding this place for two hundred years too long, Petal Luck."

The ghoul looked devastated. "No... that can't be..."

Lemon Frisk used his mouth to grab a random notebook from the middle of the cabinet, flicked it open it in the middle, and held it before Petal's face. He didn't need to look himself; he knew the same date would be staring back at the ghoul soldier.

"It ish," Lemon simply said, and he spat out the notebook. He pointed a hoof at the cabinet. "Check for yourself. Start at the beginning. Find the moment the world died."

Petal Luck looked at the cabinet, and started going through the first notebooks, until he found the date indicated on the clock. He leafed back through the previous notebooks, and found the one he was looking for. He read it aloud, his voice shaking.

"Th-thirteen hours twenty three minutes. The rest of the guard squad is dead. I woke up amidst them. Somehow, it seems I was knocked out for several days. There appears to be structural damage to the gate and building, and all personnel inside appears to be dead as well. I stored the bodies in the morgue, b-but the doctors appear to be dead as well. I l-left the bodies, because there is no space..."

He squeezed his eyes shut, Opening them again, he read one of the next entries. "Zero three hundred hours. Still no response from command. I went out to the gate, but it appears to be destroyed. I guarded the perimeter until my shift was over. There appears to be nopony left to take the next shift. I don't feel tired, so I may just take it myself."

He leafed through the next pages, as if trying to confirm a suspicion, desperation growing in his eyes. When he reached the end of the notebook, he looked up at Lemon Frisk, shock in his eyes.

"I... haven't slept in all these years," he said.

Lemon Frisk nodded. "Indeed."

"I guarded this gate for two hundred bloody years!" he yelled in anger. He ran out of the building, and looked around him, truly seeing the destroyed city for the first time. For a moment, Lemon Frisk was worried he'd lost his mind and would attack Misty, but Petal just stopped and stared. "Oh dear Celestia. Everything is gone."

"Yes," Lemon Frisk simply said.

"No orders, no supplies, no reinforcements... because there was nopony left." He sobbed, face in his hooves. "There's no one left."

Petal Luck suddenly looked up at Lemon Frisk, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "What about the Stable? That huge bunker they built?"

Lemon Frisk tilted his head. "You had relatives that were accepted in the Stable program?"

Petal nodded. "Yes. A daughter. What happened to her? Did it work?"

Lemon Frisk nodded, glad it hadn't been a son. That might really have driven him over the edge. "It did," he said. "We just visited the place. What's your daughter's name and cutie mark?"

"Tulip Wishes," Petal replied immediately, enthusiasm audible in his old voice. "She has a purple tulip as cutie mark." He smiled. "A gardener, like her old man."

The ghoul soldier stared off into the distance. "But it's been two hundred years... she must be dead." His eyes widened, and he turned to Lemon Frisk again. "I got grandchildren? Great-great-... g-grandchildren?"

"Misty?" Lemon asked the orange mare. "Do you have any records of the stable population in your pipbuck?"

Misty frowned, and looked through the tons of options in the mobile computer she'd been carrying. To her surprise, there were indeed genealogy records in there. She nodded at Lemon Frisk.

"Check the genealogy register, and tell me how many living descendents she has."

Misty inserted the query into her pipbuck, and nodded. "One hundred sixty-five current residents are descendent from her." She blinked, and frowned. "Woah. Uhh..."

"There are two options, now," Lemon Frisk said softly. "You can finally get the rest you deserve, and leave this world behind. Or you try to live in it, and we can go to stable sixty-nine and find your family. I'll respect your wish, whatever you choose. You've been through hell, and the current wastelands aren't much better."

"Lemon?" Misty said, sounding distressed. "I need to talk to you."

"Not now, Misty," he said.

"Lemon, I'm serious. You need to see this. I'm freaking out here."

Lemon walked towards Misty. "What?"

"I'm one of them," she whispered into his ear. "One of these one hundred sixty-five."

Lemon Frisk blinked, looked at the ghoul, and back to her. "Woah."

"Well then!" he said with a smile, making no effort to keep his voice down. "Let's make this a happy reunion right away."

"No!" Misty yelled. "Wait!"

Before Misty could react, Lemon Frisk grabbed her pipbuck leg with both forelegs, nearly dragging her to the ground, and opened the genealogy tracing with the hoof controls.

"Tulip Wishes," Lemon Frisk read out loud, "gave birth to Winter Breeze." He glanced up at Misty and smirked. "Weather name; we all know what that means."

Misty sighed, and reluctantly stopped struggling while Lemon Frisk read on. Petal Luck frowned, unsure what this was about, but listened intently.

"Winter Breeze, fathered Spring Melody, who gave birth to Green Meadow, who gave birth to Rusty Wrench, who fathered Red Dasher, who was the mother of Soft Breeze, who was the father of Raindrop, father of Hailstorm, father of Misty Cloud."

He got up, looked at Petal Luck, and pointed his hoof out at Misty. "Well, Petal Luck. Meet your great-great-great, great-great-great, great-great-granddaughter, Misty Cloud."

Petal Luck frowned, and hesitantly walked towards Misty. "Really?" he said, hope in his voice.

Misty stared at the broken concrete. "Yes. I grew up in the Stable, and the Stable records confirm it."

Petal walked towards her, slowly, and touched her coat, somehow feeling the need to assure himself she was real. "You... you're the current generation."

He put his hoof down again, and looked at Lemon Frisk. "It's enough," he said with a smile. "It's enough for me, to know they live on. To know I live on in them. In her."

Misty's eyes widened, as she realised what he was saying. "No, wait..." she said, weakly.

"I've been here far longer than I should have," Petal Luck said, shaking his head. "I'm one of the ponies from the generation that helped mess it all up. I have no right to claim any role in what you're doing to make it all right again."

"Please," Misty said. She was trying to yell, but somehow couldn't muster the volume. "I just met you."

Petal Luck shook his head. "I'm sorry. I died two hundred years ago. I just needed you to help me realise it." He gave her a sad smile. "Please, just let me rest."

Lemon Frisk nodded. "We'll bury you by the Stable, and let your family know." He grabbed the gun from his saddlebag.

"You can't do this!" Misty yelled, both at Petal Luck and Lemon Frisk. "Please don't do this..."

Lemon Frisk shook his head. "I shaid I'd reshpect his wish, Mishty," he said, the gun in his mouth. "He made hish choish."

Misty looked away and squeezed her eyes shut. It did nothing to stop her tears, or to stop her from hearing the gun shot.

* * *

The way back was quiet. They travelled through the area they had cleared before, and were now on the road through the suburbs. Misty kept trying to look away from Petal Luck's body, lying on the improvised sled Lemon Frisk was dragging along. He hadn't visited the cemetary, in the end. The cemetary could wait. He had a new grave to dig.

"Why?" she finally asked. "Why would you do that? After your son..."

Lemon shook his head. "This was different, Misty. This was the opposite, in fact. I've had an aunt who became demented by the end of her life. She kept forgetting things that happened five minutes before, or would suddenly forget an entire day and wonder where her visitors of the previous day had gone. The worst part was, she knew it was happening. She knew she couldn't trust her own memory anymore, and it depressed her. In the end, she just lost the will to live."

He looked at Misty. "Petal Luck had just found out that he'd been like that for two hundred years. Forgetting one day after the next, barely aware of his surroundings, not even noticing the time or date on the clock didn't change. He had been haunting that base as a soldier for two hundred years. The risk of him falling into the same pattern again was very real to him. What if one day he'd look around in the Stable and wonder who those trespassers were? He'd become a threat to his own family. I think he wasn't, mind you, or I probably wouldn't have given him that choice. But that doesn't change the fact he'd be living in constant fear that he might be. He deserved his rest, Misty."

"It's not fair," she said.

"Life rarely is," Lemon replied. "At least he got a choice, and made it by himself."

* * *

"Here lies Petal Luck, father of Tulip Wishes," the sign read. "After two centuries, he finally found his peace."

A funeral was an odd and new thing for the stable residents, and it resulted in a lot more than just Petal Luck's descendants to come outside to witness it. They couldn't give him back to the Circle of Life; the old ghoul's body was saturated with the poisons of the city. As promised, they buried him close to the stable where his descendants still lived, in the far end of the flattened area of the gravel quarry, where the forty dead males found outside the Stable had been buried too. His grave was the only one with a headstone and an identity, though. It would be visible to anypony looking out of the stable door.

Lemon Frisk turned towards the gathered Stable ponies.

"Ghouls exist in many kinds," he said. "Some are like me, quite normal, but undead. Some are just flesh-eating monsters. And some are dead inside, but keep repeating the things they did in the last days of their lives, forever a broken record of the old days. If anything disturbs them, they become mad monsters as well." He paused, and closed his eyes. Misty knew exactly who he was thinking of.

"But some balance between the two," he continued. "I used to think that the dead repeating the actions of the living were the most tragic type, but they aren't. Petal Luck made me realise that. He walked that balance for two hundred years, barely aware of who he was, dutifully guarding a destroyed base, in a dead city. But he was not a broken record. He wasn't dead inside, and that's the tragic part. He had really been there, for those two hundred years, lost in the monotony of his actions, until we managed to reach out to him."

"And he decided the future was in your hooves. He was a remnant of the past, and his chance of dying together with his loved ones was stolen from him. So he reclaimed it. Don't judge him for that. He had been a restless ghost for two hundred years. We just gave him a moment of clarity to realise that. Petal Luck deserved his rest."

Footnote: Level Up! Still no clue on what level. We'll see when it maxes out?
New Perk: Hoof-To-Hoof Combat (level 1): Long-forgotten fighting practice remembered once more, you no longer need to bite the heads off any hostiles you meet. Just bashing their heads in works fine, and is slightly less prone to creeping the hell out of your travelling companions.

Week One - Commentary

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WEEK ONE
Commentary

Welcome, mares, gentlestallions, and assorted zebras, griffins, hellhounds, and possibly deranged secret project zombie cyborg ponies.

This is where I, Nyerguds, give you a peek behind the scenes of The Daily Unlife. Hard to believe that it's been almost half a year since this train wreck was pushed onto its downhill tracks and left to thunder on. I'm currently busy writing Day Eight (read: it'll probably be done somewhere this year), but when I looked back at the previous chapters, I realised I've amassed quite a bunch of funny anecdotes over the course of these months. Some of these have been mentioned in the FimFic comments and the #FalloutEquestria irc channel, but most haven't :)

So, without further ado, let's get on it!

INTRODUCTION
When Life Gives You Lemons

As I've mentioned quite a few times in #FalloutEquestria, The Daily Unlife was the direct result of me browsing through the side stories on Equestria Daily, and not finding any stories centered around a ghoul main character. I have to be honest here though, and mention that there is another one, namely The Ditzy Doo Chronicles, but at that time, the idea of someone fan-expanding canon FoE characters felt kinda odd to me, and I stayed away from it.

What I did find, however, were plenty of story descriptions that basically went "200 years after the world died, x emerges from Stable y and has to learn to survive in the wastelands." This trend was probably set by Somber's Project Horizons, but most of the time it just rubbed me the wrong way. Littlepip's stable was supposed to be one of the only ones to stay closed that long; most other Stables had opened more than a century before that.

So, a crazy idea hit me, as such crazy ideas tend to do (see also: Flitter). I wanted to write a parody of that scenario. An over-the-top stereotypical image of a courageous pony standing in the open cogweel door of his Stable, looking out into the Wastelands, determined to make them his new home. Of course, the Stable was actually Stable One, aka Ghoul City, and the Courageous Hero was actually a ghoul that had been going in and out of that same door for the past two hundred years, to rummage through the remains of Canterlot.

Mind you, I wasn't quite sure of myself at the time. I stumbled into the Fallout Equestria Side Stories Document, and, in the chat there, I met with two people who convinced me it was a hilarious idea, and I should go for it. The first was Artemiev, writer of the comedy gems "Probed" and "Lobotomized", about a Wasteland Raider who gets into far-too-close encounters with respectively human alien invaders, and a magnificent GLaDOS ripoff. The second person was Mimezinga, of Pink Eyes fame. If I have to give any additional information on that story, you're Doing It Wrong, and should go read it. Right now. Puppeh demands it.

So, after writing that, I was still quite unsure of myself. I'd never actually done much storywriting, and none of the writing I did was even slightly comedy based. But Mimezinga loved it, and told me to 'write moar'. So I did. Blame Mimezinga :p

DAY ONE
The First Day of the Rest of Your Life

Ahh, the Life puns! I've got an entire document devoted to scraps, ideas, names, and these. There's at least a dozen of them in there, including possible future titles, and scrapped ideas. Seeing as I'll probably recycle them some day, though, I'm not going to give examples. I do wonder if I'll ever use the "Facts of Life" one, though. (Cue squick about Misty and Lemon actually getting it on)

So, stranded with a ghoul, in the wastes, I did something I never really did again. I started a chapter with a time skip. I guess this would be a perfect time to tell you about my writing method.

I don't have a writing method.

Seriously, though. I make it all up as I go along. Misty didn't exist until I needed someone to chuck bottles at Lemon's head, she wasn't a Stable Pony until he saw her, and I had no idea she was from Stable 69 until I had that crazy idea in Day Three.

This doesn't mean I don't plan ahead, but, I only do so after these crazy ideas actually hit me. Likewise, I was totally planning to actually go to New Appleoosa until a sarcastic turquoise stallion told me they probably sold that stupid guide everywhere. Don't you love it when your own characters decide to buck you in the head?

Right. Day One. Sorry. I got distracted all the way to Day Three there. Day One is where I introduce my second main character, and the whole joke I decided to build the story around.

The joke is, in itself, actually a Project Horizons reference. I loved the fact that Blackjack thought RadAway tasted awesome, while Littlepip absolutely hated it, and I remembered how Littlepip was absolutely horrified by Ditzy Doo's 'squishy' hug. So... I created a character who thought ghoul squishiness was Pretty Neat.

I also decided to introduce a first mystery here, namely, Scorch Mark, without thinking up any kind of backstory for it. Stuff like that tends to fill itself in, and is a nice detail to tie into something bigger later. And, if I can't think something up, I just leave it, and no one will give it a second thought. Win-win! As I said, I just make it up as I go. For the record, though, it's tying in nicely :)

I also decide to get into the core of this story here: the Wastelands, through the eyes of a ghoul, with all the inevitable 200-year old war trauma that comes with it. For those who played the first Command & Conquer game this must be glaringly obvious, but Blossom Tree's name is an awful, awful reference to the poisonous tiberium-spore-spitting mutated trees in that game. What can I say? It was a nice pony-sounding name.

DAY TWO
Live And Let Live

And here we get our first sneaky Fallout reference. This is the point where I admit I never played any of the actual Fallout games, but think it's quite a lot of fun to randomly browse wikis. Hayden's name was sort of based on The Den, a Wretched Hive of Scum and Villainy in Fallout 2. Seeing as Hayden is a pretty nice place, though, that's where the similarity ends.

Misty seeing nothing but "Haystack" on her pipbuck was an utterly pointless and never-explained insider's joke between me and myself on Command & Conquer (again; I love that game), which has Haystacks as neutral buildings. Notably, when you mouse over them in the game, they don't say "Haystack", firstly because of some overriding system hiding a ton of (usually quite funny) neutral names in favour of "Civilian Building", and secondly because haystacks and farm fields were usually put on the game maps in their special indestructible flavour, which doesn't even give name popups. The only way to actually get the name popup is to use a map editor to place the actual structure-version in a map, and change some hidden game setting to show the civilian names. So, yeah, this was a contrived, stupid private joke, and Lemon's nonplussed reaction at the time probably matches how you're feeling right now.

Other, more notable references in this chapter include a stab at Fallout's Fast Travel (and the fact Littlepip leaves out all boring parts, too), and the Sugar Carrot Cakes from Project Horizons.

Oh. And the shampoo. Lather, Rinse and OBEY! I had the original Solaris Inc. scalp-melting shampoo idea after designing Lemon Frisk in pony creator and ghoulifying him in Gimp. However, since Solaris Inc. is kinda Mime's joke, I bounced the idea off him first. He let me know his only criterion for letting me use Solaris Inc. was that the product had to be an utter and complete failure. When he heard my idea, though, he was hell-bent on taking it even further, and making it into a Kim Possible reference. Since Mime's a Pretty Cool Guy, and the reference really is quite hilarious, I put it in. So yes, that's totally Mime's fault. Blame Mime.

On to my favouritest pony, ever! Capsworth! A fine example of a wasteland adventurer who decided to call quits before getting any projectiles embedded in his hind leg joints, and who went on to become a trader rather than a guard 'trolling the Ponave wishing for an Enclave cloud cover.

I do hope I'll get the chance to revisit him some day, but seeing as I just write whatever my characters decide to do, as driven by their background and motivations, I have no choice but to quote yet another overused meme, and say, TF2-Medic-style, I have no idea!

DAY THREE
What's The Point Of Living If You Can't Feel Alive?

Hayden was introduced with its back story pretty much done, as way to introduce another ghoul. I planned from the start to meet more kinds of ghouls as the story went along, to show viewpoints that are quite different from Lemon Frisk's, and Spring Singer was the first of those. Well, okay, the melted guy in Scorch Mark was the first. Spring was the first one that talked back, though.

At that time, I really did go with the idea that ghouls didn't sleep, period. This was kinda semi-retconned later, mostly from me following PH as canon and Somber deciding ghouls did need sleep. Blargh. I'm weak, I know. Still, made a nice somewhat-twist, and Lemon not knowing that is still kinda explainable since he spent most of his time away from his Stable anyway.

...I should stop digging this hole before I come out in New Zealand, right? Right. (random fact: I live in Belgium, which is exactly opposite of NZ on the globe)

In the category of More Bad Ideas, we also got the sunrises. I probably pretended, for some bizarre reason, that Equestria was a Flat Earth, and thus, you'd see the sun peeking out under the clouds every morning and evening. Dumbest idea ever. Let's just pretend the pegasi were sloppy around that area, and move along. If you need a real reason, blame Minecraft.

Another one, arguably in the same category, is the use of chapter title images. I made the first of these as story cover, to make it more visible in the Equestria Daily side story listing, because even some slightly edited Pony Creator ponies dumped on a quickly googled Fallout 3 image give a lot more attention than a simple text listing. From there grew the idea of letting each chapter’s title image show the characters travelling with Lemon Frisk at the start of that chapter.

You wouldn't believe how much time I spent on these, and how tired I got of doing them. Mimezinga claims to be on a Crusade Against Pony Creator In Favour Of Real Art, but since he says he can only draw Pretty Ponies, poor ugly Lemon Frisk was stuck with Pony Creator. Again, blame Mimezinga.

Onto more jokes and references! Ponies shooting at each other becoming best friends is an obvious reference to Littlepip meeting Calamity. Then again, everyone shot at Littlepip.

Another reference, that started as a small joke but would be the defining thing about Misty's stable, was Fallout Vault 69, which I first found out about in the hilarious Penny Arcade Fallout comic "One Man, and a Crate of Puppets". The idea of a Vault with a 1:1000 male to females ratio needed a bit of work to actually be realistic, but once that was done, it gave a good basis for building Misty's background.

And now, we come to the grandest plot twist ever. I have to say, I certainly didn't see it coming. That plot twist was, as I mentioned before, Capsworth selling Wasteland Survival Guides. This blew the story into a completely different direction. Without Spray Paint's sarcastic remarks, they'd probably have met Ditzy Doo by now. Most writers probably plan ahead, but let me assure you I was 100% serious before. I had no idea they'd ever actually visit Misty's stable, and I hadn't even made up Whinnyapolis at this point.

DAY FOUR
Living The Dream

This is the chapter where I started thinking up these chilling sub-titles for my chapters. A slap in the face after the silly Life pun. I went back through the first ones to add them there, too.

I had a long scene planned at the start of this, where Lemon sees a Sprite Bot, and would reveal to Misty he was in fact the person who was responsible for deploying those for the MOM. He would then use his old access codes to log into the sprite bot network, and find a pretty peculiar message for him in there. I had other ideas floating around concerning the Sprite Bot, including having Watcher try to talk to him through a bot, and Lemon Frisk kicking Watcher from the system like the damn script kiddie he was. I'll probably get back to that sprite bot idea in some later chapter, but I don't think I'll be adding any references to Watcher.

The whole scene got scrapped after Another Minecraft Sunrise With Misty led to the conversation where he tricked her into agreeing to go back to her Stable. This also led to solidifying the Pretty Mare thing to Official Running Gag Status.

On a related note, I think the wasteland dwellers would collectively rip Lemon Frisk a new one if they knew he was somehow involved in the deployment of those Celestia-damned annoying sprite bots.

And then, finally, Lemon Frisk's special talent is explained! This could obviously not happen without a Cave Johnson joke, so, thank you Misty. In some way, this joke contributed to the idea of a Stable where the experiment was actually sabotaged in favour of preserving the Equestrian cultural heritage, since Misty actually knew jokes originating from pre-war theatre.

And then, romance. Sort of. Maybe. We're still not quite sure. I guess just finding squishy ghouls Pretty Neat wasn't enough, so, she develops an actual crush on him. I take no credit whatsoever for the horrible, horrible heat cycle joke, though. Blame Mimezinga :p

And then, Zebronies. Some people have pointed out to me that the technical term is probably something like "zonies", but that sounds weird, so, I won't use it. The other possibility, "Ponbras", just sounded like lingerie or something, and was likewise rejected.

Anyway, the Slags and their Dead Farm are a full-blown reference to Fallout 2's Ghost Farm. Unlike the original Slags, who descended from a militia that dug themselves in (quite literally), I thought it'd be interesting to have a secret military interrogation camp serve as basis. Vinegar, the leader of the Slags, is a name reference to Vegeir, the Fallout 2 Slags' leader. Thank you, FalloutWiki!

And here I add Unexplained Mystery Number Two: The Shard, and its blue radiation.

Blue radiation is, of course, a stab at the typical green glow attributed to radioactive material. In reality, visible radioactive glow is, in fact, blue. Actually being close enough to an intense radiation source to see this glow also means you’ll probably be dead within minutes.

DAY FIVE
The Life Of The Party

At the end of last chapter, you see me making a huge cliffhanger, for literally no other reason than the fact I Suck At Writing Action Scenes. Oh, you may argue they come out looking pretty okay, but that doesn't change the fact I spend hours going mad over every single paragraph of them. So, yeah. The fact it was evening was just a technicality I abused in my favour, because I wanted to release that chapter before getting into that mess.

Really though, you have no idea how hard it is to write a battle scene with a pony who's basically an unkillable monster straight out of a horror story, without making him look like an unkillable monster straight out of a horror story.

A funny detail to note though was that I originally planned the raiders to be in the stash instead of the Slags. Those were, once again, a last minute idea, and the result of me bingeing on the Fallout wiki.

On the note of the Slags, that pic of Vinegar must’ve been the most effort I put into one of these chapter titles since I ghoulified Lemon Frisk. Ah, who am I kidding, Vinegar was worse. Not just the bandages, which were added on one by one, but also the design of the helmet, which isn’t based on any pre-googled shape. I even made the layers so I can open the visor correctly by rotating it around the bolt you see in it. So, yeah, I spent way too much effort on it. And I still kinda cheated on the pic, since technically they had Mush and the whole rest of the Slags guard with them too at this point. I had Mush designed in Pony Creator, but couldn’t be arsed to do more bandages.

References! Ilushia is the most huggable pony in #FalloutEquestria, and deserves to be referenced. When she introduced Sparkle Cola Rainbow Crash in her story, New Beginnings, it sounded to me like something Rainbow Dash would take offense at. So I suggested making a joke about that in my fic, since I actually had a character that was around to see RD's reaction. She gracefully approved. Ilushia is best pony.

On to the story content. Here, I finally reveal the location of Stable 69. Whinnyapolis. I frantically looked for ponified city names that were unused in Fallout Equestria fics at that time, and after looking through a bunch of Pony Pun Location Listings (with Added Alliteration!) I finally thought up this one myself. A quick google search revealed some other people had inevitably already thought of it too, but since it wasn't used in any Fallout Equestria fics, it was perfect.

Now, I just needed a reason to actually explore that city. As it turned out, I would get some soon enough in the Stable, but at that point, I decided I'd let Lemon Frisk actually know the city, by making it the city his wife grew up in. Just to be on the safe side. Still, in the end, it'll probably be Misty's wanderlust keeping them out there. As I said before, this story is basically these damned ponies doing whatever the hell they want, while I struggle to write it all down.

Lemon Frisk getting shot at the Stable was something I specifically planned for this chapter. It was a very necessary reminder of the fact he is, in fact, an undead pony. It also served to introduce Misty's panic-induced magic boost. Yeah. As if the super powered undead regenerating ghoul wasn't enough. But I thought it was necessary to explain how Misty wound up inside that Sparkle Cola factory, after two centuries worth of scavengers failed to get in.

And of course, I ended that with a déjà vu to the Hayden joke about best friends starting out by shooting at each other. That was also specifically planned. I just hope it was clear enough.

So, then we Meet The Parents. I should note that Moonstorm is actually my former girlfriend's pony character. She wanted a cameo, and I didn't mind. This led to the cutie mark joke about the whirlwind/whirlpool, which I kept from her OC. So yes, the original Moonstorm's cutie mark really is a whirlwind, and thus, weather related. Her name, however, does not quite match the weather naming style, and seeing as she's coupled with a stallion with an obvious weather name (Hailstorm), you can safely assume her name was not meant as a weather reference.

Oh, right, I almost forgot. I really, really hope it was clear from the context, but when Moonstorm said "She was there, wasn't she?" to Misty, she was obviously referring to Big Apple's legitimate breeding mate; a mare with all the reason in the world to be extremely pissed at Misty.

DAY SIX
This Stable Life

Right. This chapter. Let me just start out by saying I didn’t like this one very much. It has barely any character development, and is basically a ton of infodump tied together with jokes. The only really significant event in this entire chapter is Lemon thinking about why he left Canterlot.

I guess I’m just lucky people read TDU for exactly the jokes I just see as ‘filler’.

Talking about these jokes, I finally wrapped up the whole Pretty Mare thing here. That scene was originally written in the common room where they met Misty's dad after they visited the WRD, with Lemon theatrically climbing on a table and proclaiming his embarrassing statement. It kinda didn't work, seeing as the Stable ponies were all kinda freaked out by the sight of the ghoul acting crazy. Then I got the idea of DJ Trillex, which made it all work out better, and gave Misty a chance at payback with the song she recorded. I actually kinda hinted to that back in Day Three, by marking the link to the song as "Misty's pipbuck recording". I was absolutely planning to have her play that on the Stable 69 broadcast system.

And then we got the ESA. The Equestrian Space Agency. It is based on a room I actually went into in a science museum in the Netherlands. The room was only a cube of 2x2x2 meters, but the effect was pretty awesome. I was a kid back then, but I remember the door had a sign saying "Fear of space?" in Dutch, making a play on the Dutch word for fear of heights, which is exactly the same except for the first syllable ;)

Anyway, when I started thinking about those 50 years of inventing and brainstorming done by the WRD, that room seemed like a really neat thing to add to get Stable ponies used to open spaces. Mind you, Misty still remarked she had trouble dealing with "the quiet, the space, the death.", back in Day One, but that just shows a bunch of mirrors are still not quite the same as a vast open desolate wasteland. It just made sure she didn't go catatonic when first sticking her head out of the door.

The ESA was also a silly excuse to apply Ponies In Socks to my canterlot ghoul. And to pull off a Portal 2 "Spaaaaace!" joke. As I said, this chapter is nothing but a string of jokes.

In the explanation of the ESA we get some interesting names. Flux State and his daughter Equilibrium. The Stable had ten forefathers, and as tribute to them, many ponies named their foals in the same style as the father. It's not a strict tradition, though. Event Horizon called his son Spray Paint, and Fog Light and Moonstorm don't fit the pattern either. But for the weather names and the Apple family, the tradition was held pretty strictly.

As was mentioned in the story, the ten Forefathers were all experts in very different fields of life. The names I made up for them as base for all Stable names were Summer Rain, Life Weaver, Brush Stroke, Rune Shimmer, Swifthoof, Crème de Menthe, Harvest Basket, Snapshot, Blueshift, and of course the token Apple Family member, Apple Pie, aka DJ Trillex. The aforementioned Flux State, Equilibrium and Event Horizon were all descendants of the Stable's Scientist forefather, Blueshift (who, himself, was a bit of a Half-Life reference). Spray Paint was actually named after his maternal grandfather, who descended from the Artist, Brush Stroke.

Of course, this talk on names all leads down to the craziest and most blatant reference I have ever made.

Summer Rain.

For those of you who are not familiar with the webcomic "Least I Could Do", well, it's basically about a magnificent bastard who charms all the ladies, sleeps with them once and then never calls them back. The webcomic is written by a guy called Ryan Sohmer, who called his main character Rayne Summers, to make sure there's absolutely no misunderstanding about the fact the whole comic is blatant chauvinistic self-gratification. The over-the-top blatantness of this, combined with the main character's hilarious random antics, and the fact that in the end, he's really a Pretty Nice Guy, actually make the comic pretty good, and really funny.

Back when I read the Fallout comic mentioning Vault 69, one of the first things I thought was "What if they put Rayne Summers in there?"

The result, of course, was Summer Rain:

I'm painfully aware I put way too much effort in that cutie mark, especially for a pic I never actually used in the story. But hey, more practice with Gimp layers.

There is still loads left untold about this guy, and I hope to tell more about him in the story, every now and then. There's plenty of reasons they all remember him fondly that don't hinge on anecdotes about him buying prostitutes for horses.

DAY SEVEN
Do You Want To Live Forever?

This chapter took way too long, because, again, I suck at writing action scenes.

The first idea I had for this chapter was Lemon Frisk and Misty being out in the city ruins, and finding an impaled ghoul soldier stuck in the rubble that had been there ever since the original attacks, and would deliriously ask for orders, until Lemon Frisk calmed him down and put him out of his misery. When I actually wrote it down, however, the whole thing changed quite a lot, and, of course, became the end piece with Petal Luck.

The second idea was the shower scene. Just like the scene with Petal Luck, this went way beyond anything I'd planned. The flood of memories gave more insight into Lemon Frisk, and allowed more reasons to visit the city. I'd never planned to go quite that far with them, though. Gods forbid I’d actually solve Lemon’s emotional problems.

I did plan a flashback of Lemon Frisk visiting his old comrades' graves during the war, though, mostly to add both the good and bad times in there, but that got scrapped because it didn't flow well. I then realised I could put the same thing into an actual visit just as well, and used that idea to link the ghoul hunt scene with the final part about Petal Luck. The actual visit obviously didn't happen, in the end, but that was quite deliberate, since it gives me a reason to go back there and still do it after all.

And then, we get into Misty's Little Problem. The chaotic release of magic. As I said before, this was another thing that kinda just happened, and even though I totally used it as Deus Ex Machina in Day Seven (not to mention, as excuse to give Lemon Frisk some colourful language), I wouldn't be surprised if it would come back to bite them in the rump some time in the future. Exploring centuries old derelict buildings with a mare who brings down the house when she panics is probably not a good idea.

It was a real pity I didn't have Spray Paint in the scene where they discussed that, simply because he would totally have continued Lemon Frisk’s bedwetting simile. It'd probably have gone something like "If we get jumped by raiders, she may piss herself, but at least one raider would have a face full of piss." Okay, so maybe it was a bit poor taste (Oh gods, did I really just write that?), and I would've scrapped it anyway. Still, I do miss that guy from time to time; he could've brought that kind of P-21 vibe into the group. Um, without all the rape factory angst, I mean.

Anyway. After all that was written, I just sat on my hands for about a month. Yeah. I had no idea how to handle that action scene. The actual ghoul hunt thing. In the end, I started rethinking some things about Winter Gale. When the city search party massacre was first mentioned, I did indeed intend for them to have gotten stupidly slaughtered by the first passing monsters, just like what happened to Misty's companions. But, thinking on about it, I realised that that would be quite strange, seeing as they were security ponies, and thus, well-versed in the use of S.A.T.S. and E.F.S. So I came up with the glowing ghoul and the fact these ghouls were some of the pipbuck-carrying Stable 69 males, and added the friend-or-foe ignoring thing. Because, face it. Stable-Tec would totally pull a stunt like that. Might even have been part of the original Stable 69 'herds' experiment, in some twisted way.

After figuring this out, this indirectly gave me a good way to introduce Misty to the possibilities of her pipbuck, by allowing Winter Gale to give a little eye-opening demonstration. A demonstration which immediately showed the poor guy that the two had survived on nothing but dumb luck and a necromantic radroach-repelling aura so far.

So then, we finally get to the ghouls. Glowing blue, again. By this time I had figured out quite firmly where the blue glow came from. Of course, given the way I write, I have no idea if Lemon and Misty will ever find out about it. I will try to somewhat steer it in that direction, when the opportunity presents itself.

Having figured out the specifics of the ghouls and all that, I thought of a good scenario to tackle them. For the record, I intended this to end with Misty collapsing a house from the moment I wrote Lemon Frisk telling the Stable he'd get rid of those ghouls. So the "throwing a house at it" joke at the start of the chapter was definitely intended to be foreshadowing.

Well, I guess that's it, for now. I got some specific events planned for the next chapter, and with some luck, I might even have TGIF-1 making an appearance already. For those of you who don't know what that means, I won't spoil it, but the irc folks know what I'm talking about ;)

Footnote: Level Down! Stop slacking and write your next chapter, dammit!
Special Perk: Slave to your Creations. Something seemed to have gotten out of control. You no longer decide where your own story goes, but just follow your characters as they move along. Ah well.

Day Eight - The Time of Your Life

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DAY EIGHT
The Time of Your Life
gone with the blastwave

~~~

"Oh, stop fidgeting, dear!" the pink-maned mare said, nudging her husband with her muzzle.

"What? You can hardly blame me for being excited!" Lemon Frisk said. "Imagine the possibilities! It's a return to youth! The toys, the games... ooh, I'll get the chance to reread Daring Do!"

Blossom Tree sighed and shook her head. She couldn't help but smile, though. "It sounds like you're more excited about the toys and stories than you are about the baby itself."

Lemon Frisk gave her a sad look. "Am not!" His smile reappeared way too fast. "But I'm totally goin' to read her Daring Do!"

Blossom Tree laughed. It was a shrill sound that might've sounded annoying to some ponies, but Lemon Frisk couldn't help but like it. She raised an eyebrow. "Her? It could just as well be a colt, you know. A colt who might not even care about all those marely adventures."

"Come on. Everypony likes Daring Do."

"Back when we were kids, maybe. She's rather old, now," Blossom said, teasingly.

"Fictional characters don't age!" Lemon threw back. "Only their fans."

"Yes, well, for the first few months after this little one is born, all you'll be reading is Daring Do and the Crying Baby."

Lemon Frisk grinned. "Ohh. I can imagine her trying to handle that."

Blossom Tree mimicked his grin. She was quite used to her husband's antics. "Do tell!"

"By the end of the book," Lemon said, his grin getting even wider, "she flees into the wilderness, and hugs the first wild manticore she meets!"

He was rewarded by another shrill laugh. The other ponies in the doctor's waiting room were giving them odd looks. He honestly couldn't care less.

~~~

"Do you know you sleep with your eyes open?" Misty asked.

Lemon Frisk blinked, and the vision of the white waiting room was replaced with the bright blue of Misty Cloud's eyes.

"Good mornin' to you too," he said. All things considered, he didn't think this was a bad way of waking up. He had expected to get poked again.

"Good?" She sighed, and looked at the bedroom door. "Somehow, I keep ending up in this place. It's like I can't escape it."

"You're free to camp outside the Door. As I suggested yesterday evening."

Misty didn't reply. She just gave him a flat look, and poked him in the side. As she'd done the previous evening. Lemon Frisk grinned, successfully suppressing a yelp.

"So," he said, "what time is it?"

"Breakfast time," Misty answered with a smile.

Lemon Frisk once again abused his poor left eyebrow. "You woke me up for breakfast? I may have figured out I can sleep, but I still don't eat, you know."

"It's a family thing!" she said. "It's not just about the food."

"Says the mare who's trying to get the hell away from her family."

Misty's head slumped down. "You're still too good at that."

"Talking about family, I do hope you're intending to take your cousin up on his offer."

Misty rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I know. I'm a poor shot, I panic when I get charged by a pack of ghouls, and I collapse the building I'm in when I panic. Did I miss anything?"

"No, that about sums it up," Lemon said, "though in all fairness, I'd imagine most ponies would display a certain degree of panic when they get charged by a pack of feral ghouls." He got up from the bed. "The collapsing thing worked, at least. Just, next time, there may not be a convenient swimming pool outside the window. Or a companion with Winter Gale's reflexes to push you into it."

Misty smiled, and opened the bedroom door. "Just get your leathery rump out here."

* * *

During breakfast, the conversation inevitably shifted to the events of the previous day. The exciting mission was the talk of the Stable, and Hailstorm and Moonstorm were quite interested in hearing how their daughter had fared in it.

"Wait. You tried to select it as weapon in S.A.T.S.?!" Lemon Frisk asked, giving her a baffled look. "The whole house?"

Misty Cloud took another bite from her apple, and nodded. "Mhm," she said. before taking the time to chew her food properly. She swallowed it, and continued her story. "Just like the rock. I just grabbed the whole thing with my magic, and targeted it at the ghouls."

Lemon Frisk laughed. "So it didn't collapse!" he said. "It actually imploded!"

"Well, no. It gave me an error, which made me panic even more, and I just sort of ripped it all loose. I think I somehow even selected the charging ghoul as projectile, in the end."

Lemon shook his head and smiled. "I can't believe it accepted that."

"I don't think it did; that was around the time everything came crashing down. Winter Gale must've grabbed me and pulled me out the window. Next thing I knew, I was coughing up green sludge."

"Sounds like the three of you had quite the adventure," Moonstorm said.

Lemon Frisk nodded. "Not exactly the way I'd prefer to get it done, mind you. If I'd been able to take them out from behind as we'd planned, this might've gone quite differently. And then there's that blue glow..." He shook his head. "I don't know what to make of that. Never heard of anything like it."

Misty frowned. "What do you mean? The Shard also glowed like that. I saw it in the distance."

Lemon nodded. "That's the thing. The balefire that destroyed Equestria was green. When we got out of the Stable, and looked in the direction of any major city, we saw a green glow. All magical radiation you find in the wastelands is green. I never even heard of blue radiation before I saw the Shard, and now it's here again." He sighed, and shook his head.

Misty shrugged. "Still, to us non-ghouls, I expect the colour doesn't change the basic fact we should stay the hell away from it, right?"

Lemon blinked. "Oh. Yeah, obviously."

"So, what's the escape plan for today?" Hailstorm asked, grinning.

Misty shot her dad a dirty look. "I'm getting lessons at the firing range. After that, uh, I dunno." She looked at Lemon Frisk.

Lemon frowned. "I think I'd like to go back to the base. I never got to visit my friends' graves, after all."

"It's really that important to you, huh?" Misty asked.

Lemon hesitated. "I... I dunno, okay? Everything I knew is gone. I just want to see what's left. At least the dead should still be there."

"That's pretty morbid," Misty said, raising an eyebrow.

Lemon cracked a smile. "...she said to the ghoul."

Misty rolled her eyes, and stood up from the table. "I'm done. Let's get to the firing range."

* * *

"Hi," Winter Gale greeted them as they walked into the armoury. He gave them an unusually confident smirk. "I found something neat in the maneframe."

Lemon Frisk and Misty Cloud followed him into the room labelled "Shooting Range". The room was mostly just a long corridor, with metal curtains covering the actual firing lanes that were at one side of the corridor.

Winter pushed a button, and the curtains rolled up, making surprisingly little noise as they did so. Behind them, at the end of each lane, they could see cardboard cutouts with prints of slightly cartoony looking ponies with rotted faces and cracked open skulls.

"What do you think?" he asked, beaming. "Freshly printed!"

Misty peered intently at the cardboard cutouts. "Ghouls?"

Lemon Frisk shook his head. "This is pre-war. Good old-fashioned gnaw-your-skull-and-eat-your-brains zombies."

Misty frowned, and shook her head. "You know, I never got that, really," she said.

Lemon Frisk raised his eyebrow. "What?"

"Well, zombies," she said. "The traditional zombie plague concept. It just doesn't make sense."

Lemon gave her an amused smile. "Do tell."

"Right," Misty started. "So, zombies eat brains, right?"

"Uhuh."

"And... their victims become zombies too, right?"

"That's how it's told, yes."

"And, nothing really kills a zombie, except blowing its brains out."

Lemon nodded. "Or smashing them with a shovel, or something."

"Yes," Misty said, looking at the cardboard cutouts. "Hooves, legs, chest, their entire back side... you can blow it all off and they'll still keep coming. It has to be the head. More specifically, the brain."

She looked at Lemon Frisk again. "So if zombies need their brain mostly-intact, how can their brain-eaten victims still become zombies?"

Lemon Frisk blinked. "Huh. I never thought about that."

"That's the whole problem, see," Misty said, shaking her head. "No one really does. The whole premise is silly, if you just think about it for a minute."

"Well, in some stories ponies just get bitten and become zombies," Lemon said.

"Well yeah, but that's the zombie plague as disease thing," Misty said, rolling her eyes. "Traditionally it's more of a curse thing. You know, necromantic stuff."

"Um, excuse me..." Winter Gale said. The whole conversation had clearly ruined his previous confidence at finding a somewhat topical set of targets. "Weren't you going to, um, shoot them?"

Misty gave him an apologetic smile. "Ahh, I knew we were forgetting something. Sorry."

Winter Gale let out a weary sigh, but he seemed determined to get on with his lesson. If he was going to train a new Security Corps he'd have to do this more often anyway, so dealing with these two would clearly make a good test run.

"First of all," he said, "despite what many ponies seem to think, S.A.T.S. does not improve your aim. It only boosts your reaction speed." He walked over to the weapons locker, grabbed one of the mouth guns and put it on the firing lane table before Misty. "If you can't hit the broad side of the Stable Door, no amount of time stretching magic will help you. Because of that, we're not using S.A.T.S. in this training."

Lemon Frisk nodded. He remembered his own S.A.T.S. introduction during his military training, and it'd been about the same.

"However," Winter Gale said, looking at Misty, "it can help you calm down in situations where everything goes too fast. If you feel you're going to panic, use it, even if it's not for firing at enemies. It may save your life."

He walked back to the weapons locker, and retrieved a gun for Lemon. "Keep in mind though, S.A.T.S. needs to recharge after every use, which takes a while. It may be better to keep it for life or death situations."

"That's kind of... contradictory," Misty said.

Lemon Frisk smiled at her. "Well, you've seen how it goes. The first casualty in any battle is the battle plan. The main thing to remember is, well, that it's there, basically. That you got the option to use it. Better to use it and survive, than to try keeping it for a life or death situation without realising you're already in one."

Winter Gale looked at Lemon Frisk's pipbuck. "Does your S.A.T.S. still work?"

"Not as far as I know," the ghoul replied, glancing down at the pipbuck embedded in his leg. "I mean, it may, but the controls for actually using it are all messed up."

"I see," Winter Gale said. "Well, maybe we should drop in at Nimblegait's office, see if she can take a look at it."

"Wouldn't count on it," Lemon Frisk said. "The technicians at Stable One said it was melted too far in. There's not enough space to replace the monitor."

"Ah, well." Winter Gale looked back at the zombie cut-outs. "Anyway, let's get to the actual practice." He looked at Misty. "Now, this may seem odd to you, but we're going to start without magic. Out there, I can all too easily imagine unicorns getting magic exhaustion, and in that case, you really want to have something to fall back on."

Misty groaned. Like most unicorns, she disliked doing things by mouth which she could just do with magic. "Seriously?" she asked. "So I have to learn this all twice?"

"Remember the ghouls?" Winter Gale asked. "You lost your gun because you didn't expect the kick it would give. There's no better way to teach you what kind of force to expect than to feel it on your body."

Misty nodded. "All right then." She levitated the gun into her mouth, disabled the safety, and aimed at the target.

"Hold it," Winter Gale interrupted. "That's the perfect way to get a whiplash. Regularly firing a mouth gun trains the neck muscles against the impact. Someone without experience and training should brace for impact. Spread your legs slightly, lower your head... right. The gun's padding will absorb the shock a bit, but that just means it gets spread out more evenly. In the end, it's still your head that gets it."

Lemon Frisk nodded. "My old instructor said to treat it as if you're wearing a helmet, and getting a sledgehammer to the jaw. It won't hurt too much, because you got a helmet, and it's a mighty fine helmet, but that won't take away the fact it's a sledgehammer. It's just a lot of force, y'know?"

Misty floated the gun out of her mouth. "...you guys are just trying to scare me, aren't you?" she asked. She looked pretty nervous all of the sudden.

"You're the psychologist," Lemon Frisk said. "You figure it out."

"Right," Misty said, eyeing the paper cutout of the zombie somewhat anxiously. "Worse than what I'm expecting, but probably not that bad."

"But don't count on the 'not that bad'," Lemon Frisk added, smirking.

"Yes, yes, I know," Misty said. She sighed, bit down on the gun once more, and pulled the trigger with her tongue.

*Blam*

The shot didn't even get close to the paper zombie. Misty spat out the gun, and massaged her jaw with a hoof.

"Ow. I almost swallowed the damned thing."

Winter Gale blinked. "Right. Um. Biting down really well is kinda essential, too," he said, looking somewhat unsure. "I guess I should've, uh, said that."

* * *

It was nearing noon by the time Misty Cloud started to get the hang of it. Lemon Frisk had put away his weapon pretty quickly; all he really wanted to do was brush up his old military training. Thanks to his recent trips down memory lane, this took surprisingly little work.

"Right, that's it," Misty said. She switched on the gun's safety with her magic, and put the weapon on the table. "I'm taking a noon break, now I'm sure I can still chew."

"You'll get used to it," Winter Gale said.

"Fat chance," Misty said as she walked out of the firing range. "Out there, I'll be using my magic."

Lemon Frisk followed her outside. "Well, you did pretty well for a first time."

Misty just nodded. "Uhuh. Now it's just the panicking and throwing houses around issue then, hm?"

Lemon Frisk laughed. "A little confidence with weapons might actually help with that, you know."

"Um...."

The pair stopped when they heard a familiar voice behind them. They turned around to see Winter Gale, once again.

"Misty?" he asked. "Could we, uh... talk?"

Misty frowned. "Can't this wait until we're back at the range?"

Winter Gale stared at the floor, and shook his head.

Lemon Frisk rolled his eyes. "Misty, he's asking you to do your bloody job. So go make yourself useful."

"Oh! Right," Misty said. She followed Winter Gale, presumably to wherever her old practice was.

Lemon Frisk shook his head. For a psychologist, she could be quite bad at reading people...

* * *

Once again wandering through the Stable on his own, Lemon Frisk somehow found himself at the school again. The foals apparently just got to their noon break, and rushed out into the play ground around the school.

"You did it!" a shrill voice yelled. Lemon Frisk smiled as he saw Fog Light running towards him.

"Hey there, squirt," he said. "How's school?"

"Who cares?" the colt said, grinning. "You really did it! You killed the zombie ponies! Now they won't eat other ponies anymore! Yaay!" He looked at the other foals, who were getting over their initial fear, and were slowly surrounding the ghoul. "I told you he'd pull it off!" Fog Light said, beaming.

"Well, actually, Winter Gale helped a lot, too," Lemon Frisk started, before the hyperactive colt interrupted him again.

"So! How'd you do it?" He grinned at one of the classmates standing beside him. "I bet he bit their heads off!" he said, clearly enjoying the disgusted look on the filly's face.

Lemon Frisk's ears drooped down, and he grinned uncomfortably. "Biting heads off? Oh no, I don't do that!" he said, slowly backing up.

"Sure you do!" Fog Light said, beaming. "You're an earth pony! You do all kinds of stuff with your mouth!"

"Woooah, that's so cool!" a filly standing behind Lemon said. The ghoul yelped in surprise and stopped backing away. He noticed the foals had him completely surrounded, and threw a desperate look at Hailstorm, who was leaning against the door frame of the school entrance, apparently enjoying the show.

"Hailstorm?" Lemon called out to him. "Help?"

The red stallion chucked, and walked towards the foals. "All right now, children, give the poor stallion some breathing space."

"He don't need to breathe!" Fog Light said without missing a beat. "He's a zombie!"

"I'm a ghoul, actually," Lemon Frisk said.

Fog Light looked back at Lemon Frisk, expectantly. "Aaand...?" he said.

Lemon Frisk sighed, and his head slumped down. "And I don't need to breathe," he grumbled.

"I knew it!" the colt said, a serious look on his face.

Hailstorm gave Fog Light a flat look. "Kids... scram," he said.

The foals muttered some barely audible complaints, but immediately slunk away to the playground.

"Wow," Lemon Frisk said, clearly impressed. "That's modern teaching?"

"No, that's training," Hailstorm replied, smirking. "There are a few words I use that have very specific meanings, and they know them. 'Scram' means, 'adults need to talk, get out or those adults will include your parents'."

Lemon glanced at the kids, who were starting their usual playground games now. "Looks like you got them well-trained."

"That's half of the job," Hailstorm said. "So, how'd things go with Winter Gale?"

"Well, the training went fine. He's off to talk with Misty now. Poor guy clearly needed it. I'm surprised Misty didn't go to him sooner, actually."

Hailstorm nodded. "Those two... they've always been close, but that also means she kinda stops being a psychologist around him, you know? Hanging out with her cousin has always been a bit of a break from her work."

"Weird," Lemon Frisk said. "There's no way I could just turn off my special talent like that. I sure hope she doesn't stop acting like a psychologist around me."

"You don't need a psychologist, Lemon Frisk," Hailstorm remarked. "You just need a friend."

He walked back to the school, and glanced back to Lemon Frisk. "And I think she knows that."

* * *

Misty and Winter Gale weren't at the firing range when he returned. He hadn't really expected them to be, but had decided it'd be better to check anyway. Seeing as it was barely past noon, Lemon Frisk had no idea where to go.

In the end, he decided to check on Vector Field's progress in organising the expedition to meet up with Capsworth and Spray Paint.

As it turned out, he had had very little success getting ponies interested in the whole affair, and the fact they didn't have any security ponies to spare didn't help matters much.

"You have to help me, Lemon Frisk!" the desperate Overstallion wailed. "They simply don't seem to care about anything I say! Maybe if you could talk to them, you could change their minds!"

Lemon Frisk frowned. "I don't exactly have looks that inspire confidence, you know."

"Nonsense!" Vector said. "You brought Misty back! You clearly gained her confidence."

"Actually, she chucked a bottle at my head the moment she saw me," Lemon Frisk said dryly. "And the only reason she didn't do worse was because she didn't have a gun."

"But the Stable knows you! You're the big hero!"

"I'm no hero," Lemon Frisk said. "All I did was give you guys a book."

"Well, I've been reading it," Vector Field said. "And it doesn't seem like there are too many ponies out there that would have the decency to do even that!" He frowned. "Do those Steel Rangers really wipe out entire Stables for their tech?"

"I haven't run into them personally, but I guess they do," Lemon Frisk replied. "Last I saw, they were valiant defenders of Equestria, but that was two centuries ago."

"Scary. What should we do if they come here?"

Lemon Frisk shrugged. "Lock the door, and pray to whoever or whatever you believe in that they don't have the equipment to get through it."

Vector Field gave him an unsure look. "That's... not very comforting."

"You could always radio for help," Lemon suggested. "You never know; someone may just be crazy enough to take on a group of ponies in power armour."

Vector gave him a dry look. "Like what? Some wandering heroic Stable Security pony? Somehow, I can't see that happening."

Lemon shrugged. "Crazier things have been known to happen. So, Vector Field... how does one become Overstallion here? It's clearly not a hereditary role, or you'd have a weather name. But for an elected figure, you sure don't seem to get much respect."

"It is hereditary, actually," Vector Field said, shaking his head sadly. "But when the WRD started taking over the Stable's decisions, my father decided to name me after mother's side of the family, as a sort of protest against the fact his role was becoming so ceremonial."

Lemon Frisk nodded. "And as a result, you're the first Overstallion without a reference to Summer Rain's name. I imagine that doesn't help."

"Indeed, it doesn't. Which is why I'd be grateful if you'd help me out here."

"Well, now you brought up the safety issue... I'm not sure if it's a good idea to go out there without proper protection."

"What if you came along?" Vector Field suggested. "You survived a direct hit from a sniper rifle!"

"Well, I was planning to go into the city, and visit the graves at the Military base, actually."

"But... there's not actually a time limit on that, is there?" The Overstallion gave him an unsure, somewhat pleading look. "I really want to meet these traders while they're still there!"

Lemon Frisk sighed. He'd seen this coming a mile away, but there didn't seem to be much he could do about it. "Look, Vector... can I call you Vector?" The Overstallion nodded. "See," Lemon continued, "if I go along, I'll just somehow end up being the de facto leader, and you'll just be somepony tagging along. This isn't the way to do this. You need to take control."

"How about you tag along as security detail?" Vector asked. "Local guide, so to speak. You know the way, and the wildlife. And the non-wildlife threats."

Lemon Frisk groaned. "Ugh. Mark my words, Vector, this won't solve a damned thing." He glanced down the corridor that led towards the Door, and then back to Vector Field. "But I'll consider it. After I talk with Misty."

Vector gave him a pensive look. "What's with you two, anyway? From what I heard, you two aren't actually a couple, but you are sleeping together."

"Um... that's actually just sleeping together, you know. Nothing else."

"Regardless," Vector said with a dismissive wave of his hoof, "it may be handy for you two to get a place of your own. We still got some free homes, and it's about time Misty moved out of her parents' place."

Lemon Frisk frowned. "You, um, do realise she's not planning on staying, right?"

Vector Field nodded. "What is she doing now?"

"Talking with Winter Gale. He needed it, badly."

Vector smirked. "Taking up her old job."

"Still, she's planning on leaving," Lemon said. He wasn't too sure of himself now, though.

Vector shook his head. "Look, Misty's a grown pony; she can go if she wants. If the WRD couldn't stop her, I sure can't, either. But if you think about it, she's got a lot to come back to, here. I'm just offering you two a place to stay whenever you do come back." He smiled. "I may not have a lot to say around this place, but I can still do that."

Lemon Frisk looked at the Overstallion. Without the name to back it up, Vector Field clung to his title, and could come across as a bit desperate... but he knew the Stable. He knew his ponies, even though they practically ignored him.

The old ghoul nodded slowly. "I'll talk to Misty about it. And about the excursion."

"Thank you," Vector said, giving him a short nod. "I appreciate it."

* * *

When Lemon Frisk arrived at the 'Storm household, Misty still hadn't returned. Then again, neither had her parents; working hours simply weren't over yet. Since he didn't feel any particular desire to spook more ponies, or be the local curiosity, he just stayed there and waited.

~~~

"Daring Do, the Great Adventurer, had finally been driven over the edge! With a desperate wail, she fled the nursery, and didn't stop running until she was well into the wilderness. The wild manticore, completely baffled, looked at the sobbing pegasus that was desperately clinging to him. He patted the adventurer on the pith helmet, and, rather unsure what to do, growled: «There, there?»"

Lemon Frisk's storytelling hadn't had exactly the intended effect. Instead of enraptured by the story, his audience was fast asleep. Then again, he might have intended that after all. He could hear the distinctive sound of a suppressed snort of laughter behind him though, which almost negated that effect.

"Shh!" Lemon Frisk whispered. "He's finally asleep!"

"Sorry," Blossom Tree whispered back. "It seems I came back too late, huh? I missed it all."

Lemon Frisk quietly walked out of Lemonade Sparkle's bedroom, and softly closed the door behind him. He smiled at his wife. "You know, it's quite amazing how well that worked. Whenever he cries, I just wonder, what would Daring do?"

"And, once you figured that out?" Blossom asked.

"I tell it to the little tyke, and he shuts up and listens! It's amazing!"

"Hah!" Blossom said, making sure to keep her voice down. "I thought you'd read him the actual books. What happened to that idea?"

"Spit. Snot. A bit of vomit. And then he tried to grab the pages, probably to apply more spit to them, and possibly eat them. And then vomit that up, too, no doubt. So I thought, I can do this without the book. It's not like he'll remember the actual stories at this age."

Blossom Tree smiled. "Pity. They sounded amazing."

~~~

Misty looked at the ghoul standing in front of her door, a pensive look on her face. Normally, she'd just give him a poke to wake him up, but something about his face made her hesitate. He looked... happy, with a odd tinge of melancholy. And she wasn't really in a poking mood. The conversation with Winter Gale had obviously had some effect on her. The last thing she needed right now was Lemon Frisk yelling at her.

Then again, as she gave him a light kiss on the mouth, she expected he'd yell at her for that anyway.

What she had not expected, however, was the stallion suddenly leaning in, and taking the little stolen kiss to a whole new level.

After about half a minute, she pulled back, gasping. Lemon Frisk blinked, and looked at her.

"Misty?" he asked, looking somewhat dumbfounded. "Did you just..."

"Woah," Misty said. "You know, I expected worse. The taste, I mean."

"Did you just kiss me?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Misty said. She frowned. "Blossom Tree?"

Lemon Frisk looked away and nodded, his expression oddly mellow.

Misty couldn't help but smile. "Sorry. I just... wanted to try that. Didn't know you'd—"

Lemon Frisk shook his head, and smiled back. "It was... nice."

"Next time, though, don't forget I need to breathe," Misty remarked.

"Next time, maybe try when I'm actually conscious?" Lemon threw back.

Misty looked away. "Sorry."

"Also, Blossom Tree easily did a full minute," Lemon Frisk said, smiling slyly. "We timed it once."

"Seriously?" Misty looked up at him, blinking. She frowned. "Wait, did you just tell me to practice more... at kissing?"

"Maybe," Lemon Frisk said, turning back to the door. "Try it again when I'm conscious sometime, and find out. For now though, open the door, please?"

"Uh, right."

"I got some news," Lemon Frisk said as she opened the door. "I talked to Vector Field."

Misty tilted her head. "Him? Why?" she asked, as they walked inside. She walked into her bedroom, and flopped down onto the bed.

"Well, he'll probably leave soon to make contact with Hayden and the Slags."

"Oh. That," Misty said, lazily tilting her head towards him, without lifting it from the bed.

"Also, well, as you remarked this morning, we seem to keep coming back here..."

Misty sighed. "Well, about that... maybe it's not so bad."

Lemon raised his poor lonesome eyebrow at that. "Oh?"

"I... talked to Winter Gale, and, he's kinda right. I abandoned these people. They need me here, Lemon." She stared at her pillow, which had been pushed into a corner when it had been sneakily substituted by Lemon Frisk's hoof yet again the previous night. "I think it might be nice, to have some place to come back to. I felt so lost, out there..."

"Well. That's convenient," Lemon Frisk said, smiling. "One of the things Vector apparently still does as Overstallion is taking care of housing arrangements."

"Well yeah, everypony knows—" Misty's head shot up. "Wait, you mean... for us?"

Lemon Frisk just nodded, and smiled. "You know, I may want to try this whole family thing again. Last I remember, it was pretty nice."

Misty didn't reply. She got up and closed her bedroom door. Seeing as he was quite clearly conscious now, she decided she needed to practice more at something.

Footnote: Level Up! Does anyone have a convenient level detector? We lost track of Lemon's.
New Perk: Knots Untied: It took you a week, or, arguably, about two centuries, but it seems you're finally ready to let go of the past and start anew. You are less prone to zoning out for random flashbacks in the middle of the day, which is probably a good thing, out there in the Wastes.

Day Nine - The Bright Side of Life

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DAY NINE
The Bright Side of Life
the brightest light casts the darkest shadows

Lemon Frisk opened his eyes and looked at the orange mare that was lying next to him. He smiled. He could definitely get used to that again.

He realised that he had slept that night, but couldn't remember any dreams. The only dreams he'd had so far had been flashbacks. This time, he felt more... refreshed. His mind didn't just need time to process his past, it seemed. It also simply needed time to rest.

He noticed Misty stirring and smiled at her. "Good morning, sunshine," he said, softly nuzzling her neck.

Misty turned her head and smiled at him, a dreamy look on her face. "Hey, you," she said.

"Hey, you," he answered. They didn't need anything more. Just this simple moment of happiness.

It didn't last. Misty's eyes wandered away, her face taking on a sad expression.

"Oh Celestia," she said. She left out a shuddering sigh. "A week. That's all it took."

Lemon Frisk's head shot up. "Misty, that's not—"

"One week!" she yelled, turning back to him. "One week and I already replaced him! Do you know how long we'd been together?"

Lemon Frisk didn't reply. He sighed softly.

"Three years. Three Celestia-damned years we waited for that door to open. And then..."

She sighed. "I don't deserve this. I don't deserve you."

Lemon Frisk gave her a flat look. "I didn't know it was standard practice for shrinks to take their patients' survivor's guilt and then wallow in it themselves," he said, his tone slightly accusing.

Misty looked away and sighed again. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, dammit!" Lemon said. "Bad things happen. There's nothing you can do about that. Have you seen the world, out there? The greatest monsters prosper, and the bravest heroes die without as much as a gravestone. There's no such thing as deserving something. You just do your best, and hope some good comes from it. Sometimes it works out, and sometimes it doesn't. Life's n—"

"Don't say it!" Misty warned.

Lemon Frisk's eyes narrowed. "Life's. Not. Fair. Misty."

"It should be!" she yelled. "This isn't right! I get welcomed back with open forelegs, both by the Stable and by you! I've done nothing to deserve that. You have, sure. You talked me into coming back here. You brought the guide. You even took the initiative to get rid of those ghouls. But me? All I did was run. Even after you got me back here, all I ever wanted was to run away some more. I'm a bad pony, Lemon."

"You're my bad pony, though." Lemon said, going through her mane with a hoof.

"Am I really?" she asked, slumping down on the bed. "Maybe Spray Paint was right about that too. Maybe all I wanted was someone to protect me. Someone to replace Big Apple."

"Too?" Lemon Frisk asked, raising his sole eyebrow again. Little details like that didn't easily escape him. "What else did he say?"

Misty stared at the door, away from the stallion lying beside her. "I bottle everything up. You can't help ponies unless you keep an emotional distance, and I'm a bit too good at that. I just... don't let the bad things affect me much."

Lemon frowned. "Until you burst."

Misty nodded, without saying a word.

"And that's what you're doing now," Lemon said.

She nodded again. Her body shook as she suppressed her tears.

"C'mon," Lemon said, "don't hold it back. It's not doing anyone any good."

"I can't do this," Misty said, shaking her head. "Not with you here. Not after last night."

"Yes, you can," Lemon said. "Especially with me here. Especially after last night."

He hugged her from behind. His skin felt cold and clammy, but she didn't mind. And that fact only made her feel worse.

"Your dad said I didn't need a psychologist," Lemon remarked calmly. "He said all I needed was a friend."

"I'm not your psychologist, Lemon," Misty muttered. "Never have been. Psychologists ask questions. Guide ponies to a mindset that makes them deal with their problems. All I did with you was listen."

Lemon smiled. "Exactly. You listened to me gush about Blossom Tree and Lemonade. You didn't even mind me bringing her up last night, of all times." He nuzzled her mane.

"So, tell me about him," he continued. "Tell me about Big Apple."

Misty sobbed. "Dammit, Lemon, I miss him," she said, squeezing her eyes shut. "I miss him so much."

Lemon nodded, knowing she felt the movement through her mane. "You do. You're not a bad pony, Misty. You're just hurting, and finding no one to blame."

Misty turned around and sobbed into his chest. "You're still too good at that," she said between the sobs.

Lemon kissed the top of her head. "Shh. Just let it all out."

She cried. And then she cried more. And then, she talked about Big Apple. Who he'd been, what he'd been like, what had made him so special to her.

And then she cried some more.

* * *

By the time Lemon and Misty finally emerged from the bedroom, Misty's parents were long gone. They had day jobs to attend to, after all.

"I wonder if they heard any of that," Misty said. She felt numb from crying too much. Relieved, but numb.

"Does it matter?" Lemon asked.

Misty shrugged. "It'd be awkward if they just heard the arguing part."

"Ahh, love couple's first spat, has to happen sooner or later." Lemon quipped.

"Oh shut up," Misty said weakly. "We argue all the time."

"Not really," Lemon threw back. "Whenever I have real arguments, you just poke me. That doesn't qualify as arguing."

Misty ignored him and sat down at the table. "So. Love couple, huh."

Lemon nodded. "Sure seems that way. Everypony's going to be disgusted when they figure that out, you know." He looked at Misty. "And, technically, I guess this makes one of us a necrophiliac."

"Hmph!" Misty said, sticking her chin in the air. "I moved a little!"

Lemon snorted. "You're terrible."

"That's not what you said last night," Misty said, managing a weak smile.

Lemon just rolled his eyes. "So... what are we going to do today?" he asked, not specifically to Misty.

Misty's smile grew bigger. "Same thing we do every day, Pinkie... try to take over Equestria!"

"Hah!" Lemon laughed. "Ministry Mare Misadventures? Really? You got that recording stored here?"

Misty shook her head. "No, just a transcript. The notes on it said some ponies wrote it down from memory after the Stable closed. It was a radio show, right?"

Lemon grinned. "Yep. You got the whole thing?"

"Yeah, I think. I imagine the Ministries must've gone bananas when that aired."

"You have no idea." Lemon said. "It was just harmless satire, of course, but the political climate really didn't appreciate it at that time. Heh. Makes sense that we never got them all."

Misty smiled. "Well, you can't really prevent somepony from memorising it, can you?"

Lemon frowned. "We could, actually. Some unsavoury memory extraction method involving memory orbs." He gave her an uncomfortable look. "Wasn't my department, but... we knew it was being done."

The mare's smile faded. "Oh."

"Well, that was more for spies who got sensitive information and such," Lemon Frisk explained. "This was broadcast publicly. The Ministries could hardly go out and mess with the memories of everypony who'd been listening to public radio. I'm not too surprised the original text survived. Especially with the clandestine reruns." He smirked. "Also, it was really funny."

He looked around in the room. "Hmm... don't you have a terminal here?"

Misty nodded. "In my parents' room. Why?"

"Well, I'm just curious what else I can find in that famous maneframe library of yours."

"Ah. Well, my dad originally moved it to their room so I wouldn't be on that thing reading old stories all night long," Misty said. She smiled. "I think he also suspected I found his diary."

"Hah. You did, then?"

"Password is 'DAMN KIDS'," Misty said, while walking into her parents' bedroom. "Or, at least, it was before I left. Hey, wanna check out what he wrote about us so far?"

Lemon blinked. "Uhh, maybe we should not invade his privacy?" he suggested, carefully peeking into the room Misty walked into.

The mare shrugged and booted up the terminal. "If he cared about that, maybe he should change his password every once in a while."

She looked at the screen and let her magic flow over the keys, swiftly navigating to the diary. Suddenly, she frowned.

"He changed his password."

Lemon let out a sigh of relief. "Good. Can we go back to the library part now?"

"No, no, I got this!" she said. "You can get a dump of the system memory and filter through that to get possible password phrases left behind in there. It's a trick dad showed me."

Lemon gave her a flat look. "He showed you how to hack his own terminal."

Misty nodded. "Which is why you shouldn't feel bad about me doing this."

Lemon Frisk shrugged. "Well, it's your dad. I'm staying the hell outta this."

Misty peered at the data on the monitor. "I think I found something. Readable text, at least. It doesn't look like a password, though... something about losing a bet."

She tilted her head to the side. "Huh. It's the diary data itself. He didn't even encrypt his entries." She looked at Lemon. "You'd think the stallion teaching me about circumventing security would at least care a tiny bit about it."

Lemon Frisk frowned. "But, he did change his password..."

"Yeah, that is odd," Misty agreed.

"Misty, can you go to the normal login screen again?"

Misty looked at him. "Why?"

Lemon smirked. "From everything you're telling me, I can draw only one logical conclusion."

"Which is?"

"Just try to log in again."

Misty shrugged and went back to the password screen. It accepted the password without any problem.

Her eyes widened. "Oh come on!" She looked at Lemon Frisk, who was giving her a smug look. "All right, spit it out, what did you figure out?"

"You mistyped the password, and jumped to conclusions."

Misty's face hit the terminal.

"Smartass," she mumbled, her horn still leaning against the monitor. She looked up at the glowing text again. "Ooh. There's an entry dated this morning." She lifted her head and looked at Lemon. "This has to be about us!"

"You really want to know the personal thoughts of your dad after he most likely heard us going at it last night," Lemon Frisk said, shaking his head.

"Uhuh. Now let's look at this thing."

---

Inserted: 2 hours 16 minutes ago.
Author: Hailstorm

Great. Just great. Looks like I lost that bet. He can still get it up after all.

Little bastard's going to be insufferably smug all day. And I owe them all an hour extra recess.

---

Misty blinked. Whatever she was expecting, this was not it. "What little bastard is he talking about?" she wondered out loud, while going down to the previous entry.

Lemon Frisk rubbed his forehead with a hoof. "I really hope I'm wrong, but I'm afraid I have a fairly good idea."

---

Inserted: 15 hours 23 minutes ago.
Author: Hailstorm

Fog Light bet me that Lemon and Misty will get it on before the week ends. Hah. He's two hundred years old! I doubt he can still get it up.

Kid, you better owe up with that week of undivided attention in class.

---

Lemon Frisk's hoof briefly left his forehead to allow him to read the message, and then firmly reasserted its previous position. "Seriously? He makes bets, with the kids, about other people's private lives? Those kids are at an age where they shouldn't even know about that stuff!"

Misty gave him a confused look. "About what? Sex?"

Lemon gave her an uncomfortable look. "Well, yeah."

"Why wouldn't they—" she started, but stopped as she realised whom she was talking to. "Oh, right," she said. "Reproduction was one of these taboos, in your time, huh?" She shrugged. "We live in a Stable with a breeding program, Lemon. I guess they figured, the sooner they know, the less accidents they'd get." She glanced at the wall between her parents' bedroom and her own. "And the internal walls here are hardly sound-proof."

"Huh... so all the kids know about... that?"

Misty giggled. "It's cute how you get all worked up about it."

Lemon looked around the bedroom door with a pensive look on his face. "Hey Misty... what are the chances your mom made similar bets?"

"Over at water maintenance? Hah. One hundred percent." She raised an eyebrow and smiled at him. "Something tells me she won hers, though."

Lemon thought back to the dark blue mare. "Yeah. I can imagine. You realise, of course, that this means the whole Stable knows by now, right? We'll be the talk of the day... again."

Misty looked up in surprise and blinked. "Ah, dammit."

"Come on, now show me the library stuff," Lemon insisted. "We've read quite enough of your dad's diary."

Misty frowned, and looked at the entries list. "I wonder what he wrote when I left..."

Lemon put a foreleg over the keyboard. "Don't, Misty. It won't do anyone any good."

Misty sighed. "I suppose."

"Come on, you haven't had breakfast yet. Go grab a bite while I check the library."

Misty nodded. "All right." She kissed him on the cheek and walked out of the room. Lemon turned back to the console and started looking through the library entries.

Misty suddenly stopped, a mischievous smile creeping onto her face. "I'll pour you a glass of water," she said as casually as possible, before walking on.

Lemon Frisk frowned, and shook his head absentmindedly. "I don't nee—" His head shot up, and he blinked. He turned his head and glared at Misty. "You're a nasty, nasty mare."

* * *

One short breakfast and a glass of water for Lemon Frisk later they went out to meet up with Vector Field. He'd promised them housing, after all.

It didn't take long for Lemon Frisk to notice the difference in atmosphere in the Stable. Before, ponies would glance at him and then quickly pretend to go about their business, unsure how to react to the undead stallion's presence. Now, the reactions were decidedly more pronounced, and varied widely. A lot of ponies just stared openly, their faces stuck somewhere between disgust and curiosity. Some reacted decidedly... different.

A young green-coated stallion walked up to him, grinning from ear to ear. He held up his hoof as he passed. "Brohoof, dude!" he shouted. Confused, Lemon Frisk held up his hoof. The youngster bumped it as he passed. "Rock on, Lemonator!" he shouted as he went on.

Lemon blinked. "Who the heck was that?"

"Um, one of the Apples... I think." Misty replied, looking almost as stunned as Lemon Frisk. She glanced back at the pony that had passed them. "A nephew of Apple Twig, if I'm not mistaken."

"Right. Is this, um, normal?"

"Amongst his age? Sure," Misty said. "For a complete stranger, though... well, that's kind of a new thing in the Stable. I guess everypony deals with it in their own way?"

"Eww! Like, seriously, Misty?" some mare suddenly said, staring at them with open disgust. "He's like, dead!"

Misty sighed and walked on without even dignifying the outburst with a look. "And there we got the other end of the spectrum," she said. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"Right," Lemon said. "Let's go find Vector Field."

They walked through the corridors, trying to avoid attention and failing miserably. Loads of ponies spontaneously started talking to them, asking them how they were doing, trying to confirm the rumours, and some even apologising for the unpleasant outbursts of others. Lemon Frisk suddenly found he'd gone from a curiosity walking around in the Stable to a person worth talking to. Despite some of the negative reactions, he couldn't say he minded.

"Ohmygosh ohmygosh ohmygosh!" a white unicorn with a poofy yellow mane suddenly yelled at them. "You two are really together now? Eeeeeeeeee!"

Lemon Frisk blinked. "I didn't know Pinkie Pie came in unicorn form."

To his surprise, Misty started laughing. Most of the times something like this had happened, she had just grinned uncomfortably and walked on. Lemon concluded she knew the mare.

"Lemon Frisk, meet Cocktail Party. Tail, this is Lemon Frisk." She smiled at Lemon. "Classmate."

Lemon Frisk nodded. "I repeat my previous statement. I wasn't aware Pinkie had any children."

Misty shrugged. "Well, you'd know more about that than us, I guess. I honestly have no idea who's in her ancestry."

"A dragon!" Cocktail Party said, her previous enthusiasm barely suppressed by her current air of seriousness. "Maybe even... two!"

"Small question," Lemon said. "Have you been outside before the Door opened?"

Cocktail Party tilted her head and frowned. "Umm, no?"

"Not even for a quick peek?" Lemon insisted.

"The Door was closed!" Tail said, her enthusiasm mostly replaced by confusion.

Lemon looked at Misty. "Not related to Pinkie Pie after all."

"How so?" Misty asked.

"The Door being closed wouldn't have stopped her."

Tail gasped. "She would've opened it herself?"

Lemon laughed. "Do you think Earth ponies have magic?"

Tail gave him a look of intense concentration. "That's a trick question, isn't it... earth ponies, no horns... magic..." Her face brightened. "A-ha! Yes, they do, because all ponies have magic potential! It's why pegasi can pull air carriages that are bigger than their wingspan would allow them to fly with!"

Lemon Frisk gave her an appraising look. "Well done! Well, to put it simple, Pinkie was, uh, sort of an earth pony teleporter. Nopony knew quite how she did it, but she definitely did it. She might even have been in several places at the same time. And we're also pretty sure she could predict the future."

Tail frowned and then crossed her eyes to try to look up to her own horn. "Now I kinda wish I wasn't a unicorn." She kept absentmindedly tilting her head back in an attempt to take a better look at her own horn, until she lost her balance and fell backwards. "Wah!"

Lemon Frisk caught her before she hit the ground. "I'm gonna retract my previous statement. She may very well be a bit Pie."

"Oh my gosh!" Tail exclaimed, looking up at her 'saviour'. "You're all squishy!"

She jumped out of Lemon's hooves, and grinned at Misty. "Sooo... how was he? Details, filly!"

"Tail, we're standing in the corridor." Misty said, giving her a flat look. "Ponies are watching."

"Sooooo?" Cocktail Party asked, tilting her head all the way to a ninety degree angle while grinning widely.

Misty sighed, and leaned in closer to whisper in her ear.

"He never, ever tires," she whispered, failing to suppress her own grin.

"Hee! You lucky mare, you!" Tail grinned. She suddenly noticed a blinking light on her pipbuck. "Ack!" she exclaimed. "I'm late!" She started galloping down the corridor. "Late late late! Bye Misty, Bye Lemon!"

Lemon Frisk blinked again. "There is no way in Tartarus that mare does not have any Pie genes."

"Heh," Misty said. "Honestly, I never made the connection. Of course, to us, the Ministry Mares are just a history lesson. Cocktail and I go way back. She's the one that earned me my cutie mark."

"Oh. So you helped her when she was depressed, then?"

Misty nodded. "Indeed. We became pretty good friends after that."

"Small question... when she was depressed... did her mane stop being poofy?"

Misty stared at him, her mouth hanging open. "How could you possibly..." She frowned. "Pinkie Pie?"

Lemon snickered. "Definitely related, then. Pinkie must've had some relatives that ended up in these parts." He looked at Misty. "See, when I first started in the MoM, the colleagues told me a little story from Pinkie Pie's life in Ponyville, to make absolutely sure nopony would ever try to throw Pinkie a surprise party of any kind."

Misty gave her a confused look. "What? Wasn't she quite the party pony?"

Lemon nodded. "Yeeah... but apparently, back in Ponyville, she got all paranoid and depressed when she noticed her friends were keeping secrets from her. She was really good at organising surprise parties... but she oddly didn't take too well to being on the receiving end of one."

"Huh. Sounds like a strange pony."

Lemon laughed. "You have no idea."

* * *

About ten minutes later they reached Vector Field's home. Unsurprisingly, the stallion looked quite smug when he opened the door.

"Coming to inquire about the housing arrangements, I take it?" he asked.

Lemon rolled his eyes and smiled. "Yeah, yeah. You were right. We, uh, talked it over, and we'll gladly take your offer."

Vector nodded. "I suspected as much, especially after hearing the grind of the rumour mill this morning. How about that other offer I made, though?"

Lemon Frisk raised his eyebrow. "I wasn't aware they were a package deal."

"What?" Vector said. "Oh, no, no! I didn't mean it that way! Honestly, this is not a 'deal'. I just wondered if you'd gotten the chance to talk to her about that."

Despite being completely unable to blush, Lemon felt a heat in his cheeks. "Aheh... no, not really," he said, grinning uncomfortably. "We didn't get much... conversing done after I implied I wanted to move in with her."

Vector smirked. "I can imagine."

"You and the whole damn Stable," Misty grumbled.

Vector shrugged. "It'll pass when the novelty wears off. Of course, if you'd join the expedition, you'll be rid of most of them for a while. It might be a welcome reprieve."

Lemon Frisk shrugged. "Actually, I was just starting to feel accepted around this place," he said.

"I could use a break from this," Misty said flatly. She frowned and gave Lemon an unsure look. "But... I don't want to run away again."

Lemon smiled. "It's hardly running away if we're travelling with ponies from the Stable, now is it?"

"It's your life, Misty Cloud," Vector said. "If you want to leave, go ahead; you won't be the only one."

"No, I just... don't want to abandon them, you know?"

Vector Field raised an eyebrow. "You don't actually owe them anything, Misty. You're free to go wherever you want." He smiled. "But you'll come back eventually. I know you will. Which is why I'm offering you two a residence."

Misty blinked and looked at Lemon. "When did he get good at that sort of stuff?"

Lemon smirked. "I suspect he always has been. You ponies simply never cared enough to notice."

Misty looked at the purple-maned stallion. "Well, damn."

"So, uh," Vector Field started carefully. "About that expedition..."

"Right," Lemon said. He turned to Misty. "Basically, he asked me to act as guide and guardpony on the trip. Just to the Sparkle~Cola factory. Maybe to Hayden, if we miss them at the factory."

"Oh, just that? That's barely a few hours," Misty said. he turned to Vector Field. "We'll do it."

"There, uh, was another factor involved," Lemon said.

Misty turned back to him. "Oh?"

"Actually recruiting ponies to go with us."

Misty blinked. "You mean as in, going around, door to door, to ask ponies whether they want to come with us?"

Lemon nodded.

Misty thought back to all the reactions they'd gotten just quietly making their way through the Stable. She slumped down. "Ah, dammit."

* * *

After getting the address and door code of their new dwelling from Vector Field, the two ponies found themselves in the Stable corridors once again. Luckily, there wasn't anypony around this time.

"Okay," Misty said. "Where do we start?"

"...she asks the pony who barely knows anyone in the Stable," Lemon retorted.

Misty rolled her eyes. "All right, fair point. Still, where would you start?"

"Honestly? I'd like to put our stuff in the new place first," Lemon said, walking in the direction where Vector Field had said their new home was, "starting with emptying my saddlebags there to make space to move your stuff. But if you mean for the trip, I'd say, pipbuck technician."

Misty trailed behind him, a frown on her face as she tried to follow his reasoning. "Oh, right," she said after a few seconds. "The ghouls."

Lemon Frisk looked back at her and nodded. "Nopony's going out there with a sabotaged Friend-or-Foe system."

Misty hastened her pace to catch up with him again. "Right. Nimblegait it is, then."

"Winter Gale mentioned that name..." Lemon said. "Would she come along on this expedition?"

Misty shrugged. "Could be. She'd probably love to see pipbucks in action out there. Those things are her passion. She even has one as a cutie mark." She sighed. "I wish I'd actually listened to her ramblings about it now... then I might've known about E.F.S. and S.A.T.S. when we first left."

Lemon tapped her lightly on the back of the head. "Bad Misty!" he said, a mock-frown on his face. "No dwelling on the past!"

"Aye aye, cap'n," Misty replied. "Or should that be 'yes, sarge'?"

Lemon smirked. "Nah. Not feeling too military at the moment. Now come on, landlubber, let's go get yer booty and bury it someplace new!"

Misty grinned. "My booty's right here, cap'n, and ready for any buryin' ye might wanna do."

Lemon rolled his eyes. "Behave. We got work to do; moving in, and finding ponies to drag along on this expedition thing." He tilted his head and frowned. "What about that mare we met in the hall? Uhh... Surprise Party?"

"Cocktail Party," Misty corrected him. "I'm not sure she'd handle it too well. Then again, most Stable ponies won't." She turned away from him and stared at the wall. "I didn't."

Lemon Frisk nuzzled her neck. "Hey now, no moping," he said softly. "Besides, with a bit of pipbuck and weapons training from Winter Gale they should do quite all right."

Misty frowned. "We're a peaceful community, Lemon. I think you overestimate us."

"And I think you underestimate ponies' tenacity," Lemon Frisk retorted, smiling. "You're managing quite well, all things considered."

Misty gave him a dry look. "I refer you back to this morning."

"Hey, I said 'quite well', not 'just fine'," Lemon said, frowning. "Really. I don't think there's anyone out there in the wastes without a set of traumas."

Misty gave an impressed whistle. "That's a lot of potential customers."

Lemon chuckled. "Pity most of them are inclined to pay in lead. In advance."

Misty looked at the door they had arrived at. "So, this is the place, then?"

"Looks like it," Lemon Frisk said, eyeing the digital lock. "Let's see if the code Vector gave us works."

He tapped in the code. Both ponies smiled involuntarily as the door opened with a soft click. Carefully, they walked inside and looked around in the room. Sure, the place was empty besides the standard furniture, which included a table, two chairs, and some sparse closets and cupboards... but it was their place. All theirs.

After standing there for a while, Lemon Frisk finally decided to break the moment of silent admiration of a barren room. "Right!" he said. "Let's, um, unpack my stuff, so we can move in here properly."

"Honestly," Misty said, "I don't think I've got all that much stuff that needs moving. We could've picked it up first."

"I know," Lemon said, leaning his head against hers. "I just wanted to see it." He turned towards her. "And I'm pretty sure you wanted the same, or you'd have said that right when we left."

Misty smiled. "Ah, all right." She unstrapped Lemon's saddlebags with her magic, and started rummaging through its contents.

"Bottlecaps, bottlecaps, more bottlecaps... you guys seriously need a more portable currency." She opened a large drawer, and the bottlecaps floated out of the saddlebags with her magic. They came out in a neat long line and were poured unceremoniously into a large pile in the drawer.

"Well, the next step up is weapons, I guess," Lemon said. "They're usually worth quite some caps."

"You can haggle about their price, though," Misty pointed out while levitating a heap of ammunition out of his saddlebags and depositing it in a different drawer. "It's still not a standard."

"True," Lemon said as he peered into the bags. "Ammunition prices are relatively fixed, though."

He frowned and reached into the bag, picking up a small device with his mouth. He put it on the table and looked at it.

"By the dogs of Tartarus," he said. "I didn't realise that was still in there when I left."

Misty looked at the device. "That's a pipbuck addon, isn't it?" she asked.

Lemon Frisk nodded. "A broadcaster. Ugh." He gave the small thing a look of distaste. "Wish I'd left that in Canterlot."

"Isn't that like, a radio transmitter?" Misty said. She picked up the device with her magic, and looked at it curiously as she let it rotate in front of her face.

Lemon Frisk's eyes widened, and he swatted the thing out of her magic field. "Stay off that thing!" he yelled, fear in his voice.

Misty took a step back and watched the device slide away on the floor. She looked at Lemon, confusion on her face. "What was that for?"

Lemon sighed, picked up the broadcaster and put it back on the table. "Look... that thing is dangerous, okay?"

Misty frowned. "How dangerous?"

"The pink cloud did more than fusing stuff. It corrupted anything it touched. Anything that broadcast a sound or radio signal became deadly."

Misty gave the small device a look of apprehension. "Yeesh. So why do you have one of these?"

"A couple of years ago, we started seeing dark-coloured alicorns in the city. At first, someone actually wondered if Luna had survived, but it was nothing like that."

Misty frowned. "So, what were they? Rad mutations?"

Lemon Frisk shook his head. "No. Far too... perfect. These were made deliberately. Most likely some experiment from the war; the wastelands are full of crap like that. Robots, cyborgs, crazy immortal super soldiers... you wouldn't believe some of the stories I've heard from Buoyant Waves. One thing was clear, though; these alicorns didn't like us very much." He gave a short nod to the broadcaster on the table. "Since we're already dead, these things don't actually harm us. They're just annoying to have around. But for living ponies... well, they're worse than the pink cloud itself. They make your brain bleed out of your skull. We started using them as defence against those things."

"So... what do we do with it?" Misty said, eyeing the tiny device as if it could jump out and strangle her. "Leave it here?"

"Hell no. Wouldn't want to risk it somehow getting lost here, getting found by somepony else, and then turned on." He grabbed the device and put it in a side pocket of his saddlebags which closed with a zipper. "I'm keeping that with me at all times." He bit down on the zipper and pulled it shut with a sense of finality.

He looked into the bags again to see what else was in there. He'd stocked up on healing potions from the Stable infirmary, and there was still some of the Rad-Away he was carrying for Misty. "Well, looks like we got most of it. This oughtta do."

* * *

A short while later, Lemon and Misty had finished moving their stuff. Since it was nearing noon, Misty decided to go to the common room to grab a bite, and maybe find some volunteers for the expedition.

Lemon looked around in the crowded room. The crowded room looked back.

A moment of silence passed, before the room exploded in chatter and shouting.

Lemon facehoofed. "Oh yeah!" he shouted over the noise to the mare standing next to him. "This was a magnificent idea!"

Misty smirked, and leaned closer to him. "They're a crowd, Lemon. You should be used to managing those."

Lemon sighed, and nodded. "Attention, everypony!" he shouted. Yup, that shut them right up. The ponies looked at him expectantly. Some, oddly, seemed to look somewhat beyond expectant, and seemed unusually enthusiastic at his sudden appearance. He noticed a familiar booklet on some of the tables; the WRD had apparently already started printing the Wasteland Survival Guide.

"Right," he said. "As you probably all already heard, Misty Cloud and I are moving in together. We won't be giving any more comments on that subject, and no, no details on last night either. If you really want to imagine that, have fun with the mental imagery, but we won't be adding anything to that."

The reactions to this were pretty much as expected, ranging from "aw" to "ew". Lemon ignored it.

"And now for something... completely different. Right before we came here we met with a trader, and he's currently setting up a deal that could make his village into a blooming farming settlement. I think Stable Sixty-Nine could participate in that, by providing seeds for crops, thus establishing friendly contac..." He looked around at the ponies and sighed. "You know what? Why am I even telling you this? This is Vector Field's job. I gave him the idea hoping he'd take some damn initiative, and now I'm still stuck doing it myself!"

He shook his head and turned around. "Screw this," he mumbled to himself as he walked off. "You coming, Misty?"

Misty blinked. "Wait, what?" Confused, she walked out behind him. "Lemon!"

* * *

"Lemon Frisk!" Misty shouted, running behind him. "What the hell was that about?"

"Can't you see it?" Lemon said, without turning back. "A population dissatisfied with current management will go looking for a strong leader figure." He finally stopped, and looked at her. "I don't want the job, okay? I didn't sign up for this. I just wanted to help them out. They can find somepony else to chain to that desk."

Misty stared at him. "You think they want... you... as overstallion?"

"Management, leader, overstallion, special advisor... call it whatever you want. I'm not interested."

Misty gave him a concerned look. "Are you sure that's what this is? You may just be misinterpreting it."

Lemon stopped in front of their door and angrily punched in the code.

"No, Misty, it just clicked into place," he said as he walked inside. "I came from out there, I know how the world really works, and I immediately solved several problems you ponies had. The whole affair with you running away and the radio censoring getting exposed has made them lose their confidence in the WRD. And now I moved in here, I'm officially part of the Stable."

Misty smiled. "You know what I think?"

Lemon raised his solitary eyebrow. "What?"

"I think you should just go out on that expedition, and not mind all those politics. Even if that's all true, it won't happen that fast, unless you're planning to organise a coup d'état instead of an expedition. You're worrying over nothing, Lemon."

Lemon sighed, and looked at the open door of their house. "I guess you're right."

"So come on. Let's go pay Nimblegait a visit and get my pipbuck fixed."

* * *

The two ponies had barely left their home when they bumped into the young stallion they had run into earlier that day; the one who had greeted Lemon Frisk so enthusiastically.

"Yo!" the green-coated earth pony said. "Hey, what was all that about an expedition? I reckon that oughtta be pretty groovy!"

"Well, you're lucky you bumped into us," Lemon said. "We were just starting preparations."

"Lucky? Pshyeah right," he said. "You said you were moving in with Misty. That normally implies her moving out of her parents' house. So I looked up Misty in the housing list, and, right on, it's changed. I open the info of the new place, and bam, you're listed there along with her. So I thought, excellent, let's check it out!"

"Quick thinking," Lemon said. "So, what's your name?"

"Rambo Apple, at yer service," the young stallion replied. "Where are you pones off to?"

"Nimblegait," Misty said. "There's something wrong with the pipbucks of this Stable."

"Too true. Winter Gale spread the buzz about that when he came back from your most spectacular ghoul hunt. The Wasteland Research dudes warned everypone to go through pipbuck maintenance afore headin' out. I still gotta do that too, actually. Mind if I tag along?"

Lemon smiled. "Not at all."

"Groovetastic. This will be one gnarly trip, pones. And I mean the good kind o' gnarly, not the bad kind o' gnarly!"

Lemon Frisk gave the stallion an uncertain look. "Riiight," he said. Misty suppressed a snicker.

* * *

As it turned out, Nimblegait was a petite unicorn with a gray coat and a brown mane... and an obsession with pipbucks.

"Well, it's about time you dropped in!" she said to Lemon Frisk as she opened the door. "Doc said you had a really interesting pipbuck!" She glanced down at Lemon Frisk's leg, and her eyes widened. "By the balls of the forefathers! What in Equestria...?"

Lemon Frisk rolled his eyes and moved his pipleg behind his other foreleg, out of sight of the overzealous technician mare. "We're not here for my pipbuck," he said, with a certain finality.

That finality was completely lost on Nimblegait. She crouched down and circled around him as he tried to keep the curiosity out of her line of sight. "But... that's impossible!" she said, eyeing the mess of titanium and flesh. "It's melted into the leg?"

"Yes, yes it is, which means it can't be fixed without cutting me open," Lemon Frisk said.

Nimblegait opened her mouth, but Lemon beat her to it. "No, I won't give permission for that!" he added quickly.

The technician slumped down. "Bahh. All right then." She gave him a pleading look. "Can I at least take a closer look? See if I can connect to the system?"

Lemon sighed, and pointed the curiosity at his two companions. "After you take care of their Friend-or-Foe systems."

Nimblegait perked up immediately. "Awwright!" she said with a grin. She looked at Misty Cloud and Rambo Apple. "Standard procedure then, I take it?"

"Indubitably," Rambo Apple said.

Nimblegait blinked. "That means 'yes', right?"

Rambo frowned. "Um... yeah."

"All righty then." Nimblegait quickly connected Rambo Apple's pipbuck with her terminal, and tapped in a few commands. "This'll be quick; I set up a script for it. I just wish I got the wireless functions working, now that'd be cool."

Lemon Frisk raised his eyebrow. "Wireless functions?"

Nimblegait nodded. "I know they're in there. Very short range, but some of the Stable's automated messaging systems use them, and that awful bit of extra programming in the Friend-Or-Foe system obviously uses it too. But I can't figure out how exactly to use it for my own purposes. It's frustrating!"

"Well, good luck with that," Lemon said.

As Nimblegait checked the readings from Rambo Apple's pipbuck on her terminal, Lemon Frisk's attention drifted to the wall of the Pipbuck Maintenance room. There was a magnificent landscape painted on it. A river was shown flowing through the green hills, and a magnificent rainbow arced down from a bunch of white clouds in the distance.

"That's quite a mural," he said.

"Spray Paint made that, years ago," Misty said. "We all hoped to see something like that when coming out of the Stable." She gave him a sad smirk. "Guess it turned out quite differently, huh?"

Lemon nodded. "The way things are going out there, we'll be lucky if it'll start looking like that in another two centuries."

"That's one done!" Nimblegait piped up. She motioned Misty to come over to her terminal. "Another two to go!"

"I do hope you're keeping a list," Lemon remarked. "Don't want ponies to go out there without the fix."

Nimblegait nodded. "Oh, it marks them in the list, and I've set up a scanner at the Door that makes a racket and alerts me whenever an unfixed pipbuck goes through. Finished setting it up yesterday. Though it all goes by pipbuck tag, and there's about a thousand pipbucks listed in the maneframe that aren't actually anywhere in the Stable."

"Oh. Right," Lemon said. "The males."

"Yep. Haven't had a chance to filter them out," Nimblegait answered. "That's one of the things I wanted to use that wireless function for; it'd make it peanuts to list all those that are in the Stable." She looked at Lemon Frisk, and tilted her head slightly. "You know, it'd have been quite helpful if you'd have brought the pipbucks of those ghouls along."

"You can file those complaints with Winter Gale," Lemon said, a flat look on his face. "We weren't even sure if we were coming back here."

Nimblegait frowned. "Oh. Right."

She glanced at her terminal, and her face brightened. "All done! Your turn, Lemon Zest!"

"Lemon Frisk," the ghoul corrected, though the mare had long stopped paying attention to anything else than his pipleg.

"Now, let's see..." she started, tapping a few keys on her terminal, while throwing occasional glances at his pipleg. "Pipbuck 3001M. Ministry of Morale Edition." She looked back at him, beaming. "Right?"

"...I guess?" Lemon Frisk replied. "I just got it for the job; never bothered to learn its fricking serial number."

"Pity," Nimblegait continued, "because the serial would make it easier to get the exact O.S. version.” She prodded a piece of protruding flesh with a screwdriver. ”Alas, it's somewhere underneath that."

"Don't poke me!" Lemon Frisk said, glaring. "You're almost as bad as Misty!"

"Ugh, you're a bit too old for me," Nimblegait said casually, while bringing up the blueprints of the pipbuck on her terminal. "I'm just in it for the pipbucks, thank you very much."

"I'm not sure whether that should make me relieved or afraid," Lemon Frisk said dryly.

"Afraid," Misty whispered to him, smiling. "Ponies usually come see me right after seeing her."

Nimblegait just rolled her eyes at that. "Oh, can it, Misty." She turned to Lemon Frisk, a manic look in her eyes. "Now let me see that thing! C'mon!"

* * *

Lemon Frisk walked out of the pipbuck technician's office, shivering slightly and leaning on Misty.

"Never... again..."

Misty gave him a sympathetic look. "You want to talk about it?"

Lemon rolled his eyes. "Maybe later." He looked at his pipbuck. To Nimblegait's credit, she'd closed it all up again exactly as it was before, and, despite the internal damage, she had been able to do something, at least. As Lemon Frisk had already known, the pipbuck's screen's connection at the back was busted but couldn't be replaced due to being melted into his leg, and while the pipbuck's controls still worked, about half of the functions they could access had damaged components.

In the end, Nimblegait had given a huge sigh of defeat, and had, in her own opinion, performed butchery where fine surgery had been required. She linked the still-working buttons straight to the few things that still worked; one served as on/off button for the radio, another two would seek up and down the radio frequencies, and a fourth could now interrupt the power to the monitor, allowing him to switch off the eternally staticky glow. She had also somehow increased the power input to the monitor, making the snowy screen actually useful as light source.

"Where did she even get that scalpel?" Lemon Frisk asked.

"Doc's her dad."

"Ugh. You can see mental health isn't his specialty." He frowned. "Wait, her dad? Why does she call her dad 'Doc'?"

Misty shook her mane. "Everypony calls him Doc. I don't even know what his real name is."

Lemon slowly shook his head. "Your Stable is a strange and confusing place, Misty."

"Oh, and the Wasteland isn't?" Misty threw back.

"Point," Lemon conceded. "So, what's next on the list?"

"The expedition, dude!" Rambo Apple threw in.

Lemon Frisk nodded. "Right, right. The expedition." His face brightened as he looked at the other stallion. "Hey, how about we take care of the logistics, and you go around recruiting ponies? You seem like a guy who knows ponies."

"Abso-defi-lutely!" the green-coated stallion said, a wide grin on his mouth. "I'll get it done, Lemon Meister!"

Lemon watched as the young stallion galloped off, and shook his head. "Where did he pick up... well, all that? I've never heard anypony talk like that."

"I'm guessing, movies," Misty said. "In case you didn't notice, he had a film reel as cutie mark, and that kinda sounds like the slang they use in those Crashing Waves pictures. Not sure if you saw those."

Lemon frowned. "Can't say I have, though the name sounds familiar. May have been related to Buoyant Waves."

"Well, anyway, those coastal ponies had some strange speech patterns," Misty continued. She paused, a pensive look on her face. "Though he seems to mix in any odd slang he finds."

"So, you guys actually got movies, then?" Lemon asked. "That's pretty impressive."

Misty nodded. "Nimblegait pioneered a way to get those uploaded into the maneframe, too. That stumped our ancestors for ages. It's just way too much data, apparently. Not that I know much of that. But, yeah, the Forefathers didn't include a maneframe expert, oddly enough, and none of the mares were specifically chosen for their expertise."

Lemon Frisk shook his head. "Yeah, because that would've been the sensible thing to do. Summer Rain might've gotten things done, but he still did them in his own way. It's amazing Stable-Tec management didn't catch on. If he'd put the expertise in female hands, nopony would've noticed."

"Then again, their privileged status as only males made them noticeable in the Stable as well," Misty pointed out, "making it easier to establish their leading roles in these fields, without it just looking like Summer Rain picking favourites."

Lemon shrugged. "I guess. C'mon, let's get packing."

Misty shook her head. "Yeeah, you may not need to eat, but I'm getting pretty hungry. We kind of skipped lunch, remember? I don't want to skip dinner as well."

"Oh," Lemon said, slightly embarrassed. "Right, sorry."

Misty smiled. "C'mon, let's go. I feel like cooking!"

"Broccoli, huh?" Lemon said, smirking.

"Heh. We do have more than just broccoli. But I guess I do need ingredients, yeah." She looked at him, and grinned. "And guess what, the lab is right on the route to the gardens!"

Lemon rolled his eyes. "Right, right, let's drop by there as well."

Misty gave him a peck on the cheek. "You're a darling, you know that?"

Lemon looked at her and smiled. "Nasty mare," he mumbled under his breath.

"What was that?" Misty asked, cheerfully.

"I said, I'm aware," Lemon said, his expression unchanged.

"Sure you did," Misty said, smirking. "C'mon, let's go."

* * *

The Stable 69 gardens weren't much out of the ordinary. They were pretty similar to those in Stable One, though obviously, these were actually in use, while the ones in Stable One had quickly lost all purpose after the place turned into a settlement for residents that didn't need to eat.

Misty was humming happily as they walked through the corridors, clearly looking forward to breaking in the kitchen in their new residence. Her groceries, two broccoli heads and a bottle of apple cider, were bobbing along beside her in the orange glow of her magic, following the rhythm of her tread.

As their door came into view the pair noticed a pony standing there, waiting for them. Lemon frowned as he recognised Apple Twig, his earlier assessment of the Stable's political situation still fresh in mind.

"Apple Twig," Misty said, somewhat sternly. The green mare opened her mouth, but Misty held up a hoof. "Before you say anything; there's one thing I want to make perfectly clear," Misty continued. "Lemon and I are going to spend a nice, quiet evening together in our new residence. I'm going to cook dinner, have dinner, and then the two of us will share this nice bottle of apple cider." She nodded at the bottle floating beside her. "At no point does this planned evening involve any visitors, or any political tug-of-war between the WRD and Vector Field. If you have any questions or remarks about tomorrow's expedition, go find Rambo Apple and Vector Field, and discuss it with them. Without us. In fact, if you see Rambo Apple, please tell him to postpone any visits until tomorrow morning." She tilted her head slightly. "Is that clear?"

The middle-aged mare gave a somewhat apologetic look. "Oh. Um, okay." She looked like she was about to say something more, but Misty's narrowing eyes made her reconsider. She nodded. "I'll just... leave you two to that, then," she said.

Misty smiled victoriously as the resident DJ skulked off. She entered the door lock code and walked inside, throwing a smug look at Lemon when he came in behind her.

"See? Nothing to worry about, unless you give into them."

Lemon Frisk laughed. "Looks like my coup d'état has been postponed once again," he said.

He closed the door behind them, the click of the lock promising a quiet undisturbed evening.

Yes, he certainly could get used to that.

Footnote: Level Up! Let's just get this nonsense over with and restart from when you left the Stable, okay? That's right. Two centuries of scavenging plus one week out there equals level 10. Deal with it.
New Perk: Sticking Together (level 2): You're truly accepted as one of the residents of Stable 69 now! Any Stable pony companions’ skill sets are at your disposal when needed. And, apparently Misty can hack terminals. Yay!

Day Ten - Living Together

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DAY TEN
Living Together
cherishing fleeting things

Lemon Frisk smiled at the orange mare lying next to him in the double-sized bed. "Hey, Misty... why do I put up with you?"

"I remind you of Blossom Tree?" Misty Cloud said, lazily.

"Ooh. First of all, shrink license revoked," Lemon Frisk said. "Secondly, not really, no. Well, there's the fact you're a mare, and that I love you, but really... that's where the similarity kinda ends."

"Revoked? I could tell you it's because I remind you of your mother, and it'd still be perfectly in line with Stagmund Froud's manuals."

"That guy was a hack, anyway."

"Don't tell me you knew him, too."

Lemon Frisk rolled his eyes. "No. I'm not that old. Still a hack. His only contribution was actually establishing psychology as a field. Westermare's studies reduced that whole silly family attraction theory to ashes anyway."

"So, I'm not like her at all, then, hm?" Misty said, moving the conversation back to the original subject. "How so?"

Lemon tilted his head, and thought for a moment. "Well, she had a certain... passion, but it was more of an enthusiasm to get dragged along with the crazy stuff I did." He looked at Misty. "You're different. You have your own driving force. I'm not quite sure what it is, but, you look at the world with wonder and curiosity."

"It's all quite new out there, for all of us here," Misty pointed out.

"True, true, but still. You actually went out there."

"For all the good that did," Misty said, frowning.

Lemon got up from the bed. "Well, you managed to bring back a useful pony."

"More like, the useful pony brought me back," Misty said, staring up at the ceiling. "And... now we're leaving again."

Lemon raised his eyebrow. "Having second thoughts, then?"

Misty shook her head. "Not really. It's just, the political situation..." She sat upright on the bed, legs tucked underneath her, and looked at Lemon Frisk. "I never really believed what you said was true until Apple Twig showed up. Sad thing is, you probably are the best way out of this mess, from the Stable's point of view."

She got out of the bed and started brushing her mane. "But there's more to this than a political situation," she said, glancing at him in the bedroom mirror while getting through the tangled bedmane. "They can't just force this onto someone, especially not by guilting them into it. You're a free pony, Lemon."

"So far for my daily chat with my psychologist," Lemon quipped, walking up behind her.

"Hah!" Misty laughed. "First of all, I already told you I wasn't, secondly, you just revoked my shrink license."

"Thirdly, you don't do that with people who are too close to you," Lemon added.

Misty smiled, a distant look in her eyes. "Well, getting psychoanalyzed by your own daughter gets old pretty quickly. It unnerved the hell out of my parents. I kinda stopped doing it to keep some semblance of a normal life, you know?"

"Oh," Lemon said. "I never really considered that."

"You never got the joyful parental experience of a kid in puberty," she said. Her eyes widened as she realised exactly what she'd said, and the brush clattered to the ground. She brusquely turned towards Lemon. "I'm sorry!" she blurted out. "I didn't mean to bring that up."

A flash of pain went over Lemon's face, disappearing as quickly as it came. "It's o... well, no, it's not okay." He gave her a wan smile. "But, I'll live. Sort of."

Misty walked closer to him and hugged him. "I'm so sorry. I was just thinking about when I was growing up."

Lemon Frisk sighed. "Well, I wouldn't mind still getting the full parental experience," he said.

"How are you going to pull that off?" Misty asked, throwing a sly glance at his back legs.

Lemon shrugged. "We'll figure something out."

Misty quickly finished her hair care, and the pair made its way out of the bedroom. Misty threw a look at the kitchen. "Ah, dammit," she grumbled, "I forgot to get stuff for breakfast last night."

"The common room, then?" Lemon asked, unsure if that was a good idea after the events of the previous day.

Misty's eyes widened. "Oh, right! They'll all be expecting us!" She grinned, a slight blush creeping over her face. "C'mon, let's go!"

"Expecting us?" Lemon asked, once again abusing his poor eyebrow. "What do you m—"

"Come on!"

* * *

As they opened the door to the common room, Lemon Frisk was more or less expecting it to be filled with ponies preparing for the expedition.

Especially given the fact it wasn't even noon yet, he was certainly not expecting the place to be filled with streamers and ponies ready to throw them a party.

Rambo Apple walked up to them. "Congratulations, Misty and Lemon!" he said, beaming. Before he could say anything more, a familiar yellow-maned white unicorn slipped in front of them and gave Misty Cloud a big hug.

"Misty!" Cocktail Party said. "How does that feel, huh?" she asked. "You're finally a wife, now."

Lemon Frisk blinked. "Wait, what?"

Misty Cloud looked up at him with a dreamy happy look in her eyes before his words got through to her. Her eyes widened. "You mean... Oh! Of course!" An unsure look crept onto her face, and she anxiously tapped a hoof against her chin. "You never realised..."

Lemon Frisk looked at Misty, a pensive look on his face. As always, his old undead brain was working hard to figure out the situation, and in this case, it didn't take long.

"The breeding program," he said. "Misty... have I, by any chance, accidentally given you a marriage proposal, that evening two days ago?"

"You talked about wanting to have a family and moving in together," Misty said, somewhat embarrassed by the fact she never bothered to explicitly explain. "I thought you'd have realised what that meant to us, here."

"Well, I can't say this isn't a surprise. I, uh, really didn't see it coming." He looked at Rambo Apple. "I'd have expected you to mention something like that yesterday, at least."

"No way, ponay," the green stallion said. "It's bad luck to mention these things 'fore the house is actually broken in!"

Lemon glanced at the crowd, and noticed the resident DJ was notably absent amongst the ponies. "So," he said to Misty, "that's why you got so angry when Apple Twig showed up? And why she didn't even try arguing?"

Misty nodded, and leaned against him. "I'm sorry... traditional marriages as you know them are just something from story books, for us. I should've known you wouldn't expect it. But the way you asked, well, it was just... how these things are supposed to be asked, you know? It's how Big Apple would've asked, if we'd been in compatible breeding queues."

She looked up at him. "I hope you don't... mind?" Lemon could see the hint of fear in her eyes.

"Are you kidding?" Lemon asked, beaming. "There's nothing like a traditional marriage out in the wastes. I didn't think we'd ever be able to have anything even slightly official like that." He looked around at the party thrown for the two of them, and smiled. "This, though? This is nice. Kinda sudden, maybe, but definitely nice."

He frowned, and looked at Misty. "So, you ponies get the wedding night before the wedding, then? No... if 'breaking in' the house is what makes it official, then... the wedding night kinda is the wedding." He shook his head, smiling. "Your Stable is a weird place, Misty."

Misty grinned apologetically. "Sorry?"

"So, uh," he continued, looking around the room, "is there anything like speeches involved in this?"

Misty snorted. "Nah. Breeding queue, remember? No romantic 'how much my special somepony means to me' stuff in this Stable."

"Yeah, I guess that'd get boring pretty quickly," he said. "«Oh, I remember the first time I laid eyes on her,»" he recited dramatically. "«It was in Stable 69, in the residential areas, exactly where the breeding queue roster said she lived. Though I might've seen her at school, too, now I think about it.»"

Misty laughed. "Yeah, you get the idea." She smiled. "This is more like a housewarming party, really. Wishing the couple a good life and healthy children."

"Not that that really applies to us," Lemon said.

"The life part, or the children?" Misty joked.

"Heh," Lemon chuckled. "'Till death do us part' is rather one-sided in our case, isn't it?"

"Pity it's not a reliable process, huh?" Misty joked.

"Ugh. Don't even think about that. You may have a thing for ghouls, but that doesn't mean I do."

A loud laugh interrupted their conversation. The source, unsurprisingly, was their resident unicorn version of Pinkie Pie, who was now grinning widely. "You guys are hilarious together!"

Misty and Lemon shared an unsure look. "We are?" Lemon asked.

"Abso-defi-lutely!" Cocktail Party assured them. She suddenly glanced around, seemingly looking for something under the tables. "Ahh, excuse me for a second!" she said. She gave the couple an awkward grin and rushed out to one of the tables with food on them.

"Paintmash, get out from under there! You'll push over the table if you're not careful!" She grabbed the foal's mane in her mouth and gently but firmly pulled him out of his hiding place.

The foal slunk down. "Sorry, mom," he mumbled.

The scene reminded Lemon Frisk of what Misty's father had told him about her stalling her breeding queue position. Lemon hadn't really realised this until now, but most ponies of Misty's age in the Stable were already parents themselves.

He heard a soft sigh beside him. Misty had clearly been reminded of the same thing.

"Feeling old?" he said, half-jokingly.

Misty couldn't help smiling a bit at that. "When I'm with you? Never," she threw back.

Lemon Frisk chuckled. "C'mon, silly pony," he said. "It's our party. Let's enjoy it while it lasts."

Before they managed to get to the 'enjoying' part, though, he heard the distinct sound of a pony clearing his throat behind him, and turned around to see Misty's parents standing there. Hailstorm gave him a long, penetrating stare, which made Lemon involuntarily shrink back, despite the fact the ghoul was at least one and a half century older than him. Misty just rolled her eyes at her father's stern look.

"I guess the traditional wishes of a long life and healthy children hardly apply to you?" Hailstorm asked.

Lemon caught Misty's reaction and smirked. "That's no reason not to wish her that, though," he threw back, leaving his brand new father-in-law at a loss of words. Beside him, Misty failed to suppress a snicker.

"Come on, Hail," Moonstorm said, "let me handle this before you embarrass us even further." She looked at Misty and Lemon with her usual warm smile. "Congratulations, darling," she said as she hugged her daughter. She looked at Lemon, and after a moment of hesitation, finally gave him a squishy hug as well. She shivered involuntarily as she let go, and looked at Misty. "That feels so weird!" she said. Misty just grinned.

"Ahem," Moonstorm said, clearing her throat. "We wish you both a happy and long life together, and strong healthy children—" She glanced at her husband, smirking, "—however you manage to procure those."

"Procure?" Misty asked. "Mom, that just makes us sound like foalnappers or something."

Moonstorm snickered. "Sorry."

Lemon Frisk just smiled. "Thank you, Moonstorm." He realised she had quite diplomatically started her sentence with 'we', so he quickly added, "And Hailstorm."

Hailstorm shook his mane. "Ah well," he said. "You can always go for artificial insemination, I guess. Though you'll need a different donor."

Misty and Lemon exchanged a nervous grin. "Not right away, anyway," Misty said. "I want to see a bit more of the world before settling down."

"Right, right, your whole expedition," Hailstorm said, nodding.

Misty shook her head. "Not really. The place we're going to is barely an hour away, last I remember." She smiled at them. "No, I just... want to see more of the city." She leaned her head against the stallion next to her. "Lemon knew the place pretty well, you know, before it was all destroyed." She looked up at Lemon's face from her leaning position. "I want you to show me all the nice romantic spots." She frowned. "If... that doesn't bring back too many sad memories. Uhm, of Blossom Tree, I mean." She cast her eyes down again. "Sorry."

Lemon gave a small kiss on the top of her head. "Stop worrying about that," he said. He noticed Misty's parents both giving them looks that clearly showed they wanted to ask about it, but weren't sure how. Given their earlier conversations, though, Lemon Frisk was quite sure Moonstorm had already connected the dots, and it didn't surprise him in the least when she finally spoke up.

"Your previous wife was from Whinnyapolis?" she asked.

Lemon blinked, and looked at Misty. It was odd how Blossom Tree had gone from 'his deceased wife' to 'his previous wife'. He wasn't used to that quite yet. Officially, this party was for them 'moving in together', but it had indeed made them 'husband and wife', as far as the Stable was concerned. He couldn't help but smile at that.

Misty raised her head and looked at him. "Lemon? You're zoning out again, dear."

Lemon blinked again. The comment didn't have the intended effect though, since it just focused him on one detail in what she said. "You never called me 'dear' before."

Misty looked as if she'd said something wrong. "Are you... not comfortable talking about her in public?"

"Oh!" Lemon said, realising he hadn't answered Moonstorm's original question. "No, that's quite all right, I was just overthinking all... this." He motioned a hoof around the room. "You know, marriage and all that, despite you ponies not really calling it that." He looked at Moonstorm. "Yes, Blossom Tree grew up in this city. I met her in the nearby military base, when I was training there."

"You were a military pony?" Hailstorm asked.

Lemon smiled. "Not... quite."

* * *

All in all, the party didn't last very long; after all, there was an expedition planned in the afternoon. After another half hour of talking about his past to Misty's parents, getting best wishes from the ponies there and watching the antics of the foals of Misty's old classmates, Rambo Apple called the pair away to get everything sorted out for the afternoon. The young stallion was wearing a gun holster across his chest, with a gun in it.

"So, uh, I said I'd take care of logistics—" Lemon started, somewhat hesitantly.

"Hah!" Rambo Apple cut him off. "Come on, did you really think I expected you to do that on your moving-in night? That's just absolutely not done, dude! No problemo, ol' Rambo took care of it!"

They walked into the large entrance hall of the Stable. A group of six ponies was waiting for them. Lemon Frisk was rather relieved to see Vector Field amongst them; he was still rather annoyed at the events of the previous day, and could certainly imagine Vector simply not showing up. That relief was quickly replaced with worry when he recognised the pony the Overstallion was talking to.

Apple Twig.

He sighed. He had really hoped to slip out of the Stable without having to deal with her again. The loaded saddlebags on her back made it abundantly clear that there was no way to avoid her. This day would contain politics, one way or another. Misty gave him a sympathetic smile as she noticed the same thing.

"Remember, Lemon... it's not your responsibility. You've only been here five days."

Lemon nodded. "Either way, I need to deal with this. I don't want any confusion about who's in charge when we arrive there."

"It's Vector Field, Lemon. He'll roll over. He always does."

"Yeah, but I don't want him to," Lemon said. "Or, didn't want him to, anyway, back when I gave him this idea." He let out an annoyed groan. "Ugh. I don't even know what I want anymore. This is a mess."

"You caused it, though," Misty said. "You gave them something to fight over, again."

"I guess. Let's see what they're up to."

Surprisingly, Vector and Apple Twig hadn't noticed their arrival. They were quite caught up in their own conversation.

"—on't care about that," Vector said to Apple Twig, sounding quite annoyed. "We just need to lay low. He's that kind of pony; it'll work out."

"I'll admit he's got charisma, but you're far too quick to suggest doing nothing," Apple Twig replied. "As I said yesterday—"

"Yeah," Lemon Frisk interrupted them. "I'd really like to hear that; what you two discussed together yesterday, that ended with you showing up at our door." He gave the pair a flat, penetrating look.

The two looked at him, visibly surprised. After a few seconds, Apple Twig slumped down.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to do anything behind your back. It's just, you've been immensely helpful to our community, and we would like to acknowledge that, someh—"

"Horseapples," Lemon Frisk threw back, his eyes narrowing. "You just saw how well I cleaned up your messes and distracted the ponies from the WRD's failings, and thought it would be nice to give me some official position in which I would continue to do so as official part of the WRD."

Apple Twig stared at him like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming train, and suddenly recalled his logic exercise the last time they talked, after the radio show. She pushed a hoof against her forehead, and nodded.

"All right. I can't win this. Running circles around my logic is literally your special talent."

"And don't you forget it," he said. "Not that I'll let you. I'm taking that position."

Apple Twig, Vector and Misty all stared at him in disbelief. The "What?" that was uttered by all three of them was perfectly synchronised.

"Lemon, I thought you said you didn't want this job," Misty said.

"I don't. I'm not taking it unless they change the job description to whatever terms I got." He gave Apple Twig a penetrating look. "And make no mistake, the WRD is the first thing to go."

Apple Twig gulped visibly, and Misty couldn't help feeling a bit sorry for the middle-aged mare; she really was no match for Lemon Frisk when he was properly fired up. And right now, he definitely seemed fired up. Misty saw that same glint in his eyes that he had back when he'd squeezed Capsworth's neck against Spray Paint's slave collar. The same mad glint he had when they met the Slags at the factory. He was daring Apple Twig to go back on her offer; to put the interests of the WRD before those of the Stable.

"That's not my decision to make," she finally said.

Lemon Frisk smirked. "Glad you caught up. I was afraid I'd have to point that out myself."

Apple Twig glared at him. "Is all this just a game, to you?"

To her surprise, Lemon Frisk laughed. "You never heard of 'game theory', have you?" Suddenly, he was looking deadly serious again. "It's all a 'game' to me, yes," he said, "but not 'just a game'. I take my games very seriously. Need I remind you that it's you ponies 'playing around' with the future of this community? You have no right to do that; it was never what the WRD was supposed to do. Your job was to research the available data and assess the outside dangers so you could properly prepare the ponies before opening the Door. You had one job, and you failed it miserably. Not only did you allow the Stable Door to be opened from sheer political pressure, but you did so after showing the Stable residents a rose-tinted view of the outside world. You people are directly responsible for Big Apple's death, and even unwittingly made Misty blame herself for it... and don't you think I'll ever let you forget that."

"The radio editing wasn't my decision," Apple Twig replied weakly. She knew all too well it wasn't a real argument.

"Irrelevant. It was made by the WRD," Lemon said. It was no longer an accusation, though; just the statement of a fact they both knew. It was clear Apple Twig hadn't agreed with the decision to do the radio editing, but she was still part of the group that did it.

"So... now what?" Misty asked, breaking the sudden uncomfortable silence.

"They'll need defences here," Lemon said. "It's been about two weeks since you opened, and Misty and Spray Paint were in Hayden. Rumours will have started to spread, and it's inevitable that the wrong ponies will have heard them." He turned to Apple Twig. "You're staying here to organise that." The older mare's eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to protest, but Lemon cut her off. "Make sure Winter Gale trains the rest of the security team in SATS and fire arms. I'm talking about the maintenance security; Blacklight and her colleagues. Let the actual maintenance ponies deal with maintenance for once; it's their ruttin' job."

He looked at the giant cogwheel door. "And make sure you're ready to close that thing when needed."

"Steel Rangers?" Vector Field asked.

Lemon nodded. "I don't know if any operate around these parts, but I don't want to risk it. You'd be defenceless against their power armour."

"I want to come along on this expedition!" Apple Twig said defiantly. "You can't just push me aside like this!"

Lemon's eyes narrowed. "Watch me, lady. It's you folks who want me to do this job. I'm doing it right here and now, organising your defences. So shut up and let me do it, my way, or I'll just walk right out that door, straight into the city—" He pointed a hoof out the door, "—and you'll likely never see me again. And if I can read the situation in this Stable well, you'll most likely have a revolution to deal with if you drive me away right now."

"That's blackmail!" Apple Twig said.

Lemon sighed. "Look, let me just make one thing clear. I like you. I like the ponies of the WRD. You're all nice and clever fellows. But that's the problem, see? You're too nice for the Wasteland. You tried to be nicer to the Stable ponies than the situation warranted, and it's come back to bite you in the rump, like the Wasteland always does. You people have been doing the equivalent of hiding from a child that their mother died; it seems like the kind thing to do, right up to the point where they run off looking for their mom and get themselves killed by the same thing that killed the mom."

Apple Twig's ears drooped down. "I know... ponies died because of us. You don't need to remind me of that."

"Apparently I do!" Lemon threw back, giving her an annoyed look. "I really don't want to turn this into a war between me and the WRD, but this is not my job! Because if I keep cleaning up your messes, you'll never learn. I'm a crisis manager, not a kindergarten teacher! You know, maybe you should just put Hailstorm in charge; he's got the qualifications!"

He turned to Rambo Apple, who had kept himself wisely neutral during the whole discussion. "Come on, Rambo. We got an expedition to get ready."

"I hope you're not too miffed at Auntie Twig," Rambo Apple said as they walked away. "She means well, you know."

Lemon Frisk let out an exasperated sigh. "That's the problem. Everypony means well. The road that led to the irradiated wastelands out there was also paved with good intentions, you know. This would be so much easier if you guys had some dictatorial overstallion; at least something would get done."

Misty smirked. "This is the part where I say 'So, go for it', and get an annoyed glare from you, isn't it?" she said.

"And yet you didn't," Lemon said, smiling at her.

She smiled back. "It's our special day! I don't feel like getting glares from you today." She kissed him on the cheek.

Lemon Frisk grinned. "If she continues like that, my head 'll be bare skull by the next time I visit this place."

Misty rolled her eyes and turned to Rambo Apple. "So... what's left to do, here?"

"Mostly just you two giving us all a mighty powerful speech to get us over our fears of the outside. And lunch."

Lemon raised his sole eyebrow in surprise. It was clear that the long-missing Righty would've joined this movement if only it'd still been there. Alas, it wasn't. "You include yourself in that?" Lemon asked.

"'Course." Rambo Apple said, smirking. "Wouldn't want ta miss lunch, now."

Lemon Frisk gave him a flat look. "I mean the ponies with fears of the outside."

"Hey, I'm not Winter Gale, okay? I haven't had Security training besides some simple instructions I got this morning when I got this gun. The rest of the gang here's mostly unarmed. We're not mighty comfortable with weapons, y'know?"

"Well, glad you showed some initiative, at least," Lemon said, while trying to wrap his mind around the fact a nervous scrawny stallion like Winter Gale was apparently somehow seen as a badass role model by these ponies.

"Somepone's got to," Rambo replied. "They're good folks, mind you. Oughtta be brave to want to go out there. But we're no wastelanders yet."

"They'll all need guns," Lemon said flatly. "We can't afford more of the WRD's softheartedness here. It'll only get them killed."

Rambo Apple nodded. "Add it to your speech."

Lemon Frisk nodded back, and looked at what Rambo had called 'the gang'. With Apple Twig gone, there were just four ponies left. Well, four ponies and Vector Field.

"So, uh, I guess we'll start with introductions?" Lemon said. "I don't think I know any of you."

One of the ponies stepped forward. It was a hazel brown earth pony with a dark green mane. "Name's Amaretto," he said. He nodded at the mare next to him, who had about the same colours, except that her hair was a far more vibrant green. "And this is my s—"

He was cut off by a hoof ungently shoved into his ribs. "I can introduce myself, thank you, Am," the mare said. She turned to Lemon. "The name's Absinthe, but feel free to call me Abbie. I'm his twin sister."

Lemon nodded at them. "Nice to meet you two."

He looked at the remaining two, a male and female unicorn. The stallion was pretty much the same bright blue as Misty's mane, and his mane was a vibrant purple that reminded Lemon Frisk of Twilight Sparkle. The mare's drab colours were in stark contrast to his. She had the exact same beige for both her coat and mane. Lemon Frisk couldn't help but think that she probably had the perfect camouflage colours for the wastelands.

"Spellbinder, at your service," the stallion said, rather theatrically. Lemon smirked as he remembered the last time he had used that phrase, and couldn't help mentally translating it to 'not here to shoot you'.

"Tome Keeper," the mare said, almost whispering. She seemed to move and talk like she didn't really want to be seen. Lemon wondered whether that'd help her, out there, or would just mean she'd panic right away. She unnerved him a little, actually. Her mannerisms reminded him of the way those zebra assassins had moved.

"All... right, then," he continued. "I know this should just be a short trip, but trust me, there's never a guarantee for that. I once went out for a three-hour scavenging trip in the Canterlot Water Service building, fell through some rusted floor, and ended up wandering around in the city's sewers for about three weeks before I found a way out. So, be prepared for anything."

He looked over the four ponies. "On that note, all of you will carry at least one gun."

Spellbinder looked like he was about to protest, but Lemon Frisk quickly held up his hoof and cut him off. "We'll go over your individual skills later," he said, walking in front of the four like a drill sergeant. "You'll find magic to be vastly insufficient for defending yourself out there, if only because inside a Stable, it's physically impossible to train for long range spells. Guns, as you should all know, are pretty long range." He stopped, and looked Spellbinder straight in the eyes. "For that reason, you will carry a gun. As Misty can tell you from her training, you will also be familiarised with mouth guns, because, if you get wounded out there, or get any kind of magical exhaustion, you'll be glad to have learned it."

Spellbinder frowned. "You make it sound as if we're going into a war zone."

Lemon Frisk shook his head. "The wastelands are worse than a war zone. In a war zone you know to expect war. The Wastelands have a way of lulling you into a false sense of security and then suddenly turning into a war zone. Please don't tell me you've forgotten what happened to the city expedition."

"But that was due to the pipbuck ID system!" Spellbinder protested. "It's fixed now!"

"Sadly, that kind of things is par for the course," Lemon Frisk said. "If it's not faulty friend-or-foe systems, it's ghouls that appear perfectly neutral until you come close, or a well-camouflaged radigator that's asleep until you accidentally step on it. I haven't been out there for that long, but I've heard the stories, and I've seen what Canterlot can do to living ponies. It's not pretty. So never let your guard down."

"I'm not afraid!" Spellbinder said, sounding somewhat offended.

"You will be," Lemon replied, a dead serious look on his face. He squinted his eyes at the stallion. "You. Will. Be."

"Dude, are you just tryin' to scare us all off?" Rambo Apple asked.

Lemon Frisk shook the meagre remains of his mane. "No, I'm trying to make you exactly as scared as you should be before you attempt to go out there, because a healthy dose of respect for what's out there will help you stay alive longer." He looked around the group. "It's perfectly possible nothing bad will happen during this entire trip. If that's the case, don't you dare take that as a sign I was exaggerating. Again, that's just the Wasteland lulling you into a false sense of security. There are horrors beyond imagination out there, and a surprising amount of those come in pony form; just look at me, I'm a prime example of that. If I were a feral, your whole Stable probably couldn't put me down."

He nodded towards the corridor that held the main elevator. "Now all of you will spend the next hour doing gun training with Winter Gale, and we'll meet back here at noon, before lunch, all carrying guns and ammo."

The four ponies and Rambo Apple nodded silently and drooped off. Lemon Frisk looked at the last remaining pony of the team, and gave him a flat look. "Vector, that includes you. Go get that gun training." Vector Field gave him an apologetic nod, and ran off after the others.

From the moment they were all out of sight, Lemon slumped down on the ground. "Ugh. I'm not cut out to be a drill sergeant, Misty," he said.

"Oh, you're doing fine," Misty replied, smiling. She sat down beside him.

"Doubt it. I bet half of them went straight back to their homes with no intention of coming back."

Misty laughed softly. "I don't think so, Lemon. They're all like me."

Lemon once again raised his poor abused eyebrow. "Like you?"

"You know. With... reasons, to want to leave the Stable. Most of our generation have children, remember. Those who don't are usually the ones with some sort of... relationship trouble. I know Tome Keeper had a really abusive mate, for example. They split them up in the end, but, I can't blame her for wanting to get out of the Stable altogether, even if it's just for a while. Wouldn't surprise me in the least if she chose not to come back."

Lemon nodded softly. "Reasons, huh..." He looked back at the door through which 'the gang' had disappeared, and frowned. "Those two earth ponies were twins, though," he said. He turned to Misty. "Surely you don't think—"

"Don't go there, Lemon," Misty said, shaking her head. "Just, don't go there."

"Ugh." Lemon leaned his head onto his forelegs. "Two-headed ponies, here we come."

"So," Misty said. "We appear to have an hour of free time. What are we going to do?"

Lemon Frisk grinned. "What do newlyweds usually do when they have free time together?"

* * *

When the gang met up in the entrance hall again, Winter Gale was with them. Noticeably missing, however, was Lemon Frisk.

"Where's the prime pone?" Rambo Apple asked.

Misty, her mane still wet from a recent shower, nodded at a pair of normal-sized doors to the right of the big cogwheel door. "Taking a shower," she said, smiling. "They don't let him use the main ones, so he's in there."

"Not joining him?" Rambo asked, smirking.

Misty rolled her eyes, but couldn't keep a smile off her face. "If I did that we'd never get ready," she said. "And it's cold water only." She caught a movement in the corner of her eye, and turned her head to the rad showers. A dark purple mare had come out of the second door, which was labelled "maintenance", and waved a hoof at her. "Oh, and Blacklight would be watching," she continued, "since she's at the water controls."

Blacklight walked towards the group. "Hello, there," she said to Misty. "I hear congratulations are in order?"

Misty smiled. "I guess so, huh?"

Blacklight glanced down the corridor. "Well, I got more work to do. I expect Lemon will be out in a minute." She walked away, waving a hoof to the expedition ponies. "Be safe out there!"

"Thanks for the help!" Misty called after her.

Mere moments later, the other door opened and Lemon came out, his mane still wet, and a towel hanging over his neck. "Ah, I missed her, didn't I?"

"Blacklight?" Rambo asked. "She just left, yeah."

"Oh well," Lemon said. "Guess the WRD will inform her anyway. Just wanted to tell her about the training stuff I said to Apple Twig."

He looked around their little group. "Well. I suggest we go to the common room for lunch."

"Capital idea!" Rambo replied enthusiastically.

As they went on, Winter Gale walked towards them. "I'm so sorry I couldn't be there earlier," he said, "but I found some new ponies to train, and, well, I was actually teaching them this morning." He gave them a nervous smile. "So, uh, congratulations, you two."

"Thanks," Misty and Lemon said, almost simultaneously. Misty hugged her cousin. "I'm glad that's working out for you."

"I've been asking the WRD to look into that as well," Lemon Frisk remarked. "I mean, the maintenance level security is apparently doing maintenance's job, instead of Stable Security's job."

Winter Gale shook his mane. "They're still decent security ponies, though. Blacklight is just as good with a gun as she is with a wrench."

"Oh. She's part of your little group, then?" Lemon asked.

The gang had reached the large elevator, which could easily accommodate all nine of them. Lemon, Misty and Gale had been lagging behind a bit, and quickly caught up to join the rest.

"Yes," Winter Gale replied, as the elevator made its way down. "She said she talked to you. Hearing about the poisoned lands out there from somepony who experienced it first-hoof made it all more... real for her." He smiled. "You're quite an influence here in the Stable."

"Don't remind me," Lemon Frisk growled. "The WRD is trying to recruit me."

"Trying?" Misty asked. "You kinda said yes."

"Only kinda," Lemon said, smirking. "I'm equally 'kinda' hoping to be out of here by the time they come to a decision about that little bombshell I left them."

Misty snorted. "That's 'kinda' awful, Lemon."

"Hey, I gave Apple Twig the instructions to get started," Lemon defended himself. "They should be able to figure it out from there. If they really can't, I might consider really leaving your dad in charge."

Misty burst out laughing. Winter Gale just gave them an odd look, clearly not understanding how his uncle fit into all this.

"Besides," Lemon said, grinning, "I think we deserve a honeymoon first, anyway."

The elevator stopped and the ponies poured out. Lemon looked at Winter Gale. "If you're lucky, there's still some cake left from this morning."

Winter Gale smiled. "Cake for lunch? Can't say no to that!"

As it turned out, there was indeed still cake left. In fact, all of the decorations were still there, as were some of the party guests from that morning. It was hard to resist getting into a party atmosphere again, especially with some latecomers delighting in the fact they weren't too late to congratulate the pair after all. Nonetheless, a little after noon, they were all ready to go.

* * *

Lemon Frisk looked at the large open Stable Door.

Well, this was it. This was the day he'd finally leave the stable, and be rid of all those bothersome politics for a while.

"Lemon Frisk!" he heard an all-too-familiar voice behind him. He groaned, and looked at the mare that was galloping towards them.

"Apple Twig," he said, trying to keep his voice neutral. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" He noticed the mare was once again wearing her loaded saddlebags.

"Very funny, Lemon," the mare replied with a dry look. "We've discussed the subject, and, you got the position. No restrictions."

Lemon Frisk blinked. "You just gave your Stable away to a stranger who hasn't even been here a week."

"That's a bit of an exaggeration," Apple Twig said. "You're a Stable resident, now. And you know you still need us to manage everything."

Lemon nodded. "I do. And hopefully you haven't started packing up or anything yet, because the next week is all yours."

Apple Twig gave him a surprised look. "What?"

Lemon Frisk grinned, and put a hoof around Misty's neck, pulling her closer to him. "I'm a bit of a traditional guy, you know. I just got married, which means it's time for a honeymoon."

Apple Twig's look was even more surprised now. "What?"

"You heard me. We won't be coming back for a while. You should have the basics to get started here. Winter Gale already started training some of the other security ponies in firearms, so that should make your job easier."

"Not my job," Apple Twig replied. "I'm coming with you. The others can handle that."

Lemon Frisk smiled. "So sorry, but you can't."

"Well, why the heck not?!" Apple Twig yelled back, finally losing her cool. "We've done what you asked, given you all we possibly could... what more could you possibly want?!"

Lemon pointed at the gun holster hanging around Amaretto's neck. "You missed gun training," he said, matter-of-factly, and raised his eyebrow. "And I sincerely hope you didn't make the WRD agree with my ridiculous conditions just so you could come along on this trip."

Apple Twig's mouth hung open for a few seconds. She closed it and narrowed her eyes. "You were counting on us rejecting your terms?"

Lemon Frisk gave her an awkward grin. "Maybe a little?"

"After all that, after the whole 'playing around with the future of this community' speech, you just leave?"

"I'm not 'just' leaving, Apple Twig," Lemon said, once again completely serious. "As I said, I will come back."

"You don't know that!" the angry mare yelled back. "It's a death trap out there! You gave us the Guide; you should know! There's no guarantee you'll make it back here! And that's the place you choose as honeymoon destination?"

"You have your facts slightly skewed," Lemon pointed out. "The Wasteland isn't a destination, it's everything outside Stable 69. I know that's still a hard concept to wrap your mind around, but it's the truth. And, sure, we may not survive... but if I wanted to be stuck in a Stable, I'd never have left Stable One. And I'm fairly sure the same goes for Misty."

He sighed, and shook his head. "Look, Apple Twig... this is not about me trying to prevent you from going along with the expedition."

"Yeah, right," Apple Twig grumbled.

"No, really. Listen to me," Lemon said, almost pleadingly, "I asked you to take care of this, because I trust you. You're the only one in the WRD I'd call a friend. But I need a break from all this. I feel cooped up in here. That's just something about me you'll have to accept; I'll help you, but you will not keep me on a leash. It doesn't work that way."

Apple Twig nodded slowly. "All right, then. Care to give a prediction of who will most likely threaten us? Like you did with the stallions?"

"Heh, sorry," Lemon said. "Maybe if I had any knowledge of raider camps and Steel Ranger settlements and such, but, as it is, I really have no idea." He grinned. "Maybe our trip will remedy that too, you know. You can't predict the Wasteland without exploring it first."

"Ugh," Apple Twig said, giving a reluctant nod. "I guess you have a point."

"Anyway, we're wasting time, here," Lemon Frisk said. He looked around to the other ponies. "Everypony ready to go?"

* * *

It was surprising how differently Misty acted when travelling with people from her Stable. In contrast to Capsworth's expedition, she knew who most of these ponies were, and it didn't take her long to drift off to have a chat with Spellbinder. Oddly enough, this familial atmosphere very naturally extended to include Lemon Frisk, who found himself in a conversation with Absinthe.

"Ugh, call me Abbie; everypony does," the mare replied to his greeting. "It's rather silly, actually. Neither of us have even tasted the drinks our names are based on. They simply can't be distilled with the ingredients we got in the Stable."

"Is that why you're out here?" Lemon Frisk asked. "Misty seemed under the impression most ponies joining were those who didn't have children for personal reasons, like her own."

"Well, I didn't run away with my lover, now did I?" Abbie said, grinning. When Lemon frowned, she got an incredulous look on her face. "Oh, really? You thought... me and Am? Ew!" She shook her head, grinning. "Nah, this was mostly my idea. My brother's just a bit overprotective. Couldn't let his baby sister go out alone." She threw a quick look at her brother, who was walking a bit behind them. "Psh," she scoffed. "I'm two minutes older than him. I can take care of myself."

"So you really are out here on a booze run?" Lemon Frisk asked.

"Nah. We're a fair bit younger than Misty, you know. We still got time for all that settling down stuff. I just want to go out here and see the world!" She grinned, and leaned closer to him. "And hey," she said, lowering her voice to a whisper, "maybe I can find a nice guy around here, too. My possible breeding roster choices are... well, not too impressive, to say the least. But don't tell Am about that. He'd just get overprotective again."

"That's it, then?" Lemon asked, smirking. "Young ponies out to see the big world?"

"Yup!" Abbie said, grinning widely. "I mean, do you have any idea how exciting this all is for us? We're the first ponies from 69 in almost two centuries who are actually walking on Equestrian soil!" She looked around, and her grin got a bit awkward. "Okay, so it's not all like that shiny mural at Pipbuck Maintenance—" Her grin got more genuine again, "—but you gotta admit, it's pretty cool!"

"Beats Canterlot, that's for sure," Lemon Frisk said. He looked at a few ruined houses in the distance. "But, I have to admit, it has a certain... beauty. The wide open plains, the quiet atmosphere..." He glanced up. "if only we had a little sunshine to go with it."

"And rainbows," Abbie added. "I want to see some real rainbows. Not the faint water spray stuff, but good old solid Pegasus rainbows."

"Rainbows? Good luck getting those misers up there to share 'em," Lemon said, sounding harsher than he'd intended. Like most wastelanders, he thought the only good pegasus was an undead pegasus running the Absolutely Everything store in New Appleoosa.

"Hey, a girl can dream," Abbie said.

"Been dreaming that for one hundred ninety years," Lemon said morosely. "Hasn't changed it."

Abbie looked at him hesitantly. "Well..." She glanced behind her, and held up a hoof. "Be right back!"

She slipped away, and came back with a rather baffled Misty Cloud. "Your stallion needs a hug," she said, matter-of-factly, "and that's not my job. Now, if you'll excuse me, I got a brother to annoy!" She slipped away from the two.

Misty looked at Lemon and blinked. "Uhh. What?"

"A hug!" Absinthe shouted from farther back in the group.

"Right," Misty said, giving Lemon his hug. She gave him an uncertain look. "Feeling better?"

Lemon gave her a weak smile. "A little."

* * *

The rest of the trip was as uneventful as it had been the first time. Again, there was a distinct lack of raiders, manticores, radigators, and deranged secret project zombie cyborg ponies. Lemon Frisk was kind of glad for that, though some part of him wished there had at least been a bloatsprite or two to prove his point about the dangers of the place. Maybe even a feral ghoul. In the end, though, the fact they all arrived safely at their destination trumped these thoughts.

As the factory came in sight in the distance, Amaretto ran to the front of the group, and stopped in front of Lemon Frisk. The whole group halted together with them.

"I'm picking up several signals around us," Amaretto said to Lemon Frisk. "They seem neutral."

Lemon Frisk looked around. "Misty?" he asked.

"Same, but they're green to me," she replied, confirming Lemon's suspicions.

Lemon nodded. "All right," he said, seemingly to no one in particular. "These ponies are with me; they're from Misty's Stable. We want to speak with Capsworth."

All around the group, equine figures wrapped in camouflage nets popped up, weapons at the ready. One of the Stable ponies shrieked in surprise as they appeared, and Lemon Frisk couldn't help smirking when he recognised Spellbinder's voice. This almost made up for the lack of bloatsprites.

Lemon quickly spotted the cloth wrapped around the legs of their 'assailants', and the variety of tinted visors and goggles obscuring their faces. "Ponies," he said, "meet the Slags."

Mushroom Stew pulled the camouflage net from her back. "It is good to see that you are well, Lemon Frisk," she said. "Capsworth is away for now. Your friend Spray Paint manages things at the moment." She looked at the group they were travelling with. "So.... still wandering, I see?"

Lemon and Misty smirked, and shared a look. "Actually," Lemon said, "I've kind of... settled down. More or less."

"With me," Misty added.

"Oh," Mush said with a smile. "Well, being nice paid off, then, I see. If you settled down, though, what brings you here?"

"Well... them," Lemon said, motioning his head towards the group. "We're on, well, kind of a trade mission." He suddenly frowned, and looked around the group, trying to spot Vector field. The pitiful excuse for an Overstallion gave him an unsure look. Rolling his eyes, Lemon pulled Rambo Apple into the conversation, quite literally. "Rambo, this is now your expedition," he said. "You did a fine job organising it, and now it's all yours."

Rambo chuckled. "Can't say I didn't see that one coming."

"See?" Lemon said to Misty, "That's why I like this colt. Thinks ahead, and takes everything in stride." He looked up at the sky, which was getting darker. "But let's get to the factory first, alright? I don't like the look of those clouds."

As they approached the factory they saw it had changed quite a bit. There were a number of small shacks set up around it which seemed like temporary living spaces. It didn't seem like there would have been much of a problem if they'd delayed the expedition longer; the place was clearly growing out to a rest stop between Hayden and Dead Farm. And, conveniently, it wasn't too far away from the third settlement that was getting involved.

As they walked closer to the factory, Spray Paint waved them over through the glassless windows of the factory lobby. He was sitting behind a desk full of papers, and clearly had his hooves full with managing the place.

"Oh, wow," he said as they came closer. "Rambo Apple? Is that you?"

"In the flesh, m'lad!" Rambo replied cheerfully. He looked around the drab looking factory. "No decorations?"

Spray Paint chuckled. "Haven't had the time," he said, as he got up from behind the desk and walked towards them. "You know me; I'd love to get on that. All these empty walls, just begging to get some paint on 'em. But hey, the way this place is growing, I'm sure they'll need some art to cheer up the place sooner or later." He looked at the rest of the group, and raised an eyebrow. "Huh. You even managed to drag along our Great and Benevolent Overstallion?"

"Don't remind me," Lemon Frisk grumbled. "This was supposed to be his expedition."

Spray Paint smirked. "Delegating by Inactivity, as usual, I see. If that was a valid management technique, Vector Field would've been the greatest Overstallion that ever lived."

"Yo, Vector!" Rambo Apple yelled at the purple-haired stallion in the back of the group. "You're not getting out of this, you know. Get yer green butt over here. I don't give a rotten broccoli head what hare-brained scheme Auntie and you hatched up."

Vector sighed, and walked towards the others. "Uh, hi, Spray Paint," he said.

"So, has anything of interest been happening at the Stable?" Spray Paint asked the five ponies around him.

Rambo grinned, and nodded to Lemon and Misty. "Them two got hitched."

Spray Paint blinked. "Colt, that escalated quickly."

"That's not the best part," Rambo said, still grinning. "Vector here tricked him into it. Lemon had no idea what moving in together meant."

"For real?" Spray Paint asked. He looked from Lemon to Vector.

Lemon Frisk's eyes widened. "What?" He glared at Vector Field. "You planned that? To make me part of the Stable, and sick the WRD on me?"

"No!" Vector said. "Well, not the WRD part. They just.. asked my advice on the whole matter, when the whole expedition thing came up, and, well..."

"And that made you feel needed again, so you just went along with them," Lemon said, planting his hoof firmly on his face. "Ugh. I had this all wrong. It was never a power struggle between you and them. You just wanted to be included in it."

Vector Field just looked at the ground. "I'm sorry. I just tried to help."

"Well, I've had one too many helpings of that," Lemon said. He looked at Spray Paint and Rambo. "You three can handle this. I'm technically only along as security detail. Well, you all arrived safely. I'm off." He looked at Misty Cloud. "You comin', Misty?"

"Sure," Misty said. She waved a hoof at Spray Paint. "Later, Paint."

She turned back to Lemon, and followed him as he went down to the cellar.

* * *

Misty smiled. "That's where we met, isn't it?" she said, looking at one particular spot in the room.

Lemon Frisk nodded. "Can't believe it's only been ten days. I've lived more in that time than I have in the whole damn century before it."

Misty leaned her head against him. "That was the point, though, wasn't it? Living a little?"

"It sure was," Lemon replied. He smiled, and looked at the mare at his side. "Still no closer to any mystical meaning of it, though."

"Hah," Misty said. "There's an interesting one I heard a while ago: just live, and don't be a dick."

Lemon raised his sole eyebrow at that. "Blunt, yet profound. Who said that?"

"Spray Paint," Misty said.

Lemon nodded. "Somehow, that doesn't surprise me."

"So, you just came down here to reminisce?" Misty asked.

"No... you can add 'getting tired' to my list of new experiences as a ghoul. Though I'm not sure if it counts if I have to mentally add 'of all that bullshit' behind it."

"See, I tried to tell you that when we first ran into him..." Misty said with cheeky look on her face.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. My can of worms. Well, I delegated it. He's now in the position Apple Twig wanted here, as only link to the WRD. So whatever 'Auntie Twig' wanted to come along for, it's his job now. Hopefully that'll spur him into action."

"Fat chance," Misty said.

"Indeed. Anyway, I want to lie down someplace quiet, and I'm fairly sure there's some rather comfortable empty storage rooms down here." He smiled at Misty. "Care to join me?"

Misty smiled back at him. "Anytime, dear. Anytime."

Footnote: Level Up! I guess that makes you level 11, huh?
New Perk: Sticking Together (level 3): Well, it seems you're taking this "sticking together" deal rather seriously. Misty Cloud is now an inseparable part of your group, and as long as you remember to consult her, she'll give you a stat boost in whatever area you might need help with.

Day Eleven - Urban Wildlife

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DAY ELEVEN
Urban Wildlife
your concrete heart isn't beating

~~~

«Dear Lemon Frisk

Colleen is dead. Her entire squad died on a mission. They brought back the bodies when they secured the place later, so at least we can take some small comfort in knowing we got the chance to give our daughter a proper burial.

They will be buried in the Whinnyapolis military graveyard, next Saturday. You've been such a great support during the forced migration, and I'd really appreciate it if you were there for us. I'm sure Blinker would appreciate it too. You always got along with him, and he's at an age where he really understands these things, now.

We hope to see you there.

Blitz and Sheila Calcite»

"No..." Lemon Frisk said, staring wide-eyed at the letter on the table in front of him. "Oh no. T.B. No no no, this can't be true!"

"Lemon?" a voice came from behind him.

Lemon looked back at Blossom Tree, tears in his eyes. "They're all dead, Blossom," he said, disbelief in his eyes. "The whole squad. T.B., Mad Eyes, Lumpy, Brick, Straw... all dead."

Blossom Tree's eyes widened. "What?" She'd known them all well enough, back when she worked at the military base. "Oh, dear Celestia."

Lemon Frisk looked back to the paper, his eyes narrowing. "We made a promise, remember?"

Blossom Tree swallowed, and nodded softly. She remembered the promise. It was the kind of promise soldiers made when they were feeling more solemn; when, in between the jokes and the camaraderie, the reality of war sunk in for just a moment. Juvenile, and yet completely serious. She'd been there when they had made it, despite not being part of it. Ever since she'd hooked up with Lemon Frisk, she'd always been part of whatever shenanigans they had all gotten into.

"Like old times, then, Lemon?" she asked. It was the kind of thing to say with a smile, but this time, there was no smile.

"Like old times, Blossom," Lemon said, his face just as grim. "After the funeral, we'll go back there. Fulfill the promise."

~~~

Lemon woke up alone in the small storage area the two had crashed in the night before. He heard Misty Cloud's voice outside, though, in conversation with other familiar voices. He easily picked out the deeper timbre of Capsworth's voice, and from the speech pattern, he was pretty sure the other voice was Vinegar's. The caravan had returned.

He got up, cricked his neck, and then stretched his back to pop all the other vertebrae of his spine as well, for good measure.

"Ahh. Much better," he said. To be fair, their sleeping place hadn't been all that comfortable, but they were going to be roughing it for some time longer anyway, so they might as well get used to it. At least they were well-prepared.

Lemon Frisk packed their bed rolls and strapped them to his saddlebags. Given the fact Misty's physical condition wasn't quite top notch, he was the one carrying most of their stuff. They had been smart about it, though, and had divided it up so Misty always carried the essentials she'd need to survive in case they'd ever get separated. It would be rather silly to leave all the food, healing potions and rad-away with the one who didn't eat and who healed from radiation.

Lemon walked out of the cellar, and was greeted by exactly the people he'd expected to find.

"Hey, you," Misty said, giving him a light peck on the cheek.

"Hey, you," Lemon Frisk replied, smiling. He looked at Capsworth and Vinegar. "So, how's it going with your respective communities?"

"Not too bad," Capsworth said. "We got a raider ambush on the way yesterday, though, so some vermin is definitely picking up on this new trade route. The Slags are excellent sharpshooters, though, and even better scouts. Took out the whole lot of 'em before the caravan even got close." He looked at the Stable ponies walking outside the factory. "So, you're bringin' a third community into the equation, I see?"

Lemon nodded. "Sure seems that way."

"There's a bit of a problem with your proposed deal, though," Capsworth said.

Lemon frowned, then nodded. "It's not a long-term thing."

"Indeed," Capsworth said. "We can buy starting crops from them, but once we got them, the deal is pretty much over. Not really a basis for long-term trade."

"They are a Stable, though," Vinegar remarked. "Surely they can produce many useful things?"

Lemon Frisk nodded. "Their doctor can make healing potions, I think," he said, looking at Misty for confirmation.

Misty nodded. "He can. But I'm sure we got a lot more to offer. The Stable fabricator can make loads of stuff." She looked at Lemon and smiled. "Hey... we could reprint the old comics!"

Lemon Frisk couldn't help laughing, both at the suggestion and at the puzzled looks on the faces of the two Wastelanders in their presence.

"Comics?" Capsworth asked. "Ya mean, comic books?"

"Sure!" Misty said. "The Stable's maneframe has a huge library of them! We can reprint all those awesome Daring Do Adventures!"

"Huh. Fairly sure I had one o' these in stock a while ago," Capsworth said. "The kids love 'em."

"They don't have the books, sadly. Just the comics," Lemon Frisk added. "Though there's plenty of other books worth printing. They got loads of scientific stuff, too."

"Always popular with the adventurers, that," Capsworth said, nodding. "Not sure why, but they keep comin' back for the same ones."

"We'd need materials, though," Misty said. "I mean, as a kid we fed the fabber dead apple tree branches and got comic book pages. It was one of the ways to encourage us to do gardening duty; they're so much better on paper than on these green monitors. But for larger scale production, that won't be enough."

"Can it not take other materials?" Vinegar asked.

"Not a clue," Misty said, "but I bet Vector Field knows." She glanced at the ponies hanging around the factory entrance. "He's actually pretty useful to have around, as long as you don't expect him to do things."

"Talking about useful ponies..." Lemon Frisk said. "Where's Rambo Apple?"

"Spray Paint is introducing him to my people," Vinegar said. "The Stable Ponies seem eager to meet others, out here."

Lemon Frisk thought back to Absinthe, and smirked. "Heh. I'll bet."

He turned to Misty. "I've... packed all our stuff," he said. "Are we gonna stick around for a bit longer, or should we go?"

Misty looked around. "I think these fine ponies and zonies have everything nicely under control," she said with a smile. Her expression turned more serious. "To the graveyard, then?"

Lemon Frisk nodded. "It's pretty much the closest to the city from here anyway."

Capsworth raised an eyebrow. "I thought that whole place was a graveyard."

"Yeah, well," Lemon Frisk said, "sometimes, you just gotta ease your way in. Start with the dead you already knew were dead. It's gonna be hard enough going back there."

"Oh. You were from there?" Capsworth asked.

"My..." He glanced at Misty. "...previous wife was."

"I see."

"Oh!" Misty suddenly piped up. "Hey, back at the Stable, we found out that practically all of the stallions that were supposed to go inside were locked out. Lemon Frisk theorised that a load of these went in the direction of Hayden. Do you know anything about that?"

Capsworth frowned. "Talk about ancient history." He tilted his head as he thought. "Don't know any specifics, but that sounds plausible; we do have a stash of pipbucks in Hayden."

"A stash of pipbucks?" Lemon Frisk asked. "Those things are amazingly useful... why are they just... stashed?"

"They say they're cursed," Capsworth said. "Since the founding of Hayden, barely any pony who took one o' these and ventured out ever came back. The few who did came back with stories of the pipbuck systems leadin' 'em straight into ambushes. Now, I ain't a superstitious stallion, but that don't mean I take unnecessary risks. So them things stay stashed."

Lemon and Misty shared a look, and looked back to Capsworth. "Well, I got good news for you, Capsworth," Lemon said. "We know what's wrong with them."

Capsworth smirked. "Oh? That implies it can be fixed."

"Can, and has been," Lemon said, giving a nod towards Misty's pipbuck-wearing leg.

"The first expedition from the Stable into the city got slaughtered by pipbuck-wearing ghouls," Misty explained. "When we went to investigate, we found out that all pipbucks from Stable 69 are somehow set to identify all others from their Stable as friendly. These ghouls were some of the other males that got locked out."

Capsworth gave them an incredulous look. "Why the fuck would..."

"Stable-Tec," Lemon Frisk said, shaking his head. "Probably part of the Stable's original experiment. Try not to think too hard about it; it just makes you wanna bash your head on something."

"Daayum," Capsworth said. "So, all them pipbucks we got... they can be used?"

"By adventurers not afraid of getting randomly mugged by Steel Rangers, sure," Lemon Frisk said, shaking his mane.

"Eh. Rangers around here ain't too bad," Capsworth said. "They rely on Hayden a lot for their supplies."

"How would they react to a Stable opening, though?" Lemon asked.

Capsworth frowned. "That... could be problematic, yea."

"How come they never took those pipbucks?" Misty asked.

Capsworth shrugged. "We just never mentioned them. Honestly, if they'd have asked, they woulda gotten 'em a long time ago. Them things are just stashed there so they don't hurt nopony else. Hell, if we'd have needed to improve relations with the Rangers, we'd have downright offered 'em those things." He looked at Misty's pipbuck. "Now, though... if they can be fixed, that changes quite some things." He smirked, and looked at Vinegar. "Especially since our armed escorts generally conceal their legs anyway."

"Well, whatever you do... be careful," Lemon said.

Capsworth nodded. "Will do. So... who do we talk to ta get them things fixed?"

Lemon and Misty shared an uncertain look. "Uh," Lemon said, "a small mare called Nimblegait. But be... careful. Um, subtle. Well." He looked at Misty, unsure how to warn them about the pipbuck-crazed mare.

Misty sighed. "She's... somewhat excitable. Putting it lightly." Lemon Frisk shuddered. "So, yeah," Misty continued, "be, um, careful."

Capsworth raised an eyebrow. "Excitable? I'd like some more hints than that. Will she fix 'em?"

"Oh, absolutely," Lemon said. "It's getting through the experience unscathed that's the real problem."

"She scares the hay out of Lemon Frisk," Misty added, flatly.

Capsworth smirked. "Must be some mare."

"She tried to disassemble me!" Lemon hissed.

"Shhh. It's all right, Lemon," Misty said, soothingly. "The bad mare can't hurt you anymore."

Lemon rolled his eyes. "Funny, Misty."

Misty smirked at him, then suddenly frowned and looked up at Capsworth. "Oh!" she said. "Um, if we don't see him now, please remind Spray Paint to drop by the Stable sometimes; his pipbuck still has that same problem as well."

Capsworth nodded again. "Will do. Be safe out there, folks."

Lemon nodded back. "We'll try. Good luck with Nimblegait."

* * *

"You seemed... eager to go," Misty Cloud said as they trotted along. She gave Lemon a pensive look.

"Ah... sorry," Lemon replied. "I suppose you still wanted to catch up with Spray Paint?"

Misty smiled. "It wasn't an accusation, Lemon," she said, smiling. "I'd have asked to wait a bit if it were that important. Spray seems to be doing fine. He'll catch up on things with the other Stable ponies."

"Did you know he knew Rambo Apple?"

Misty chuckled. "It's a Stable, Lemon. Everypony knows everypony to some degree."

"Hm. I guess. Never was inside one long enough to experience that." He frowned, and tilted his head. "Well. More accurate to say I never stayed there long enough between my scavenging trips to socialise, I guess."

"What, and small-town dynamics weren't covered in your crisis management studies?" Misty asked, somewhat mockingly.

"Hey, it's been two hundred years," Lemon threw back. "Be glad I still remember any of that."

"Fair point," Misty conceded. She looked around. "So... on the road again, then. Just the two of us."

Lemon looked at his wife, and raised his eyebrow. "This is going to end in poking, isn't it?"

Misty nodded. "One way or another. You realise, of course, that I much prefer getting poked?"

Lemon smirked. "Strange as it may sound, being completely alone is not the ideal situation for intimacy. Not out here."

"Maybe Apple Twig was right," Misty mused. "Maybe we did pick a wrong honeymoon destination."

Lemon shook his mane. "Traditionally, a honeymoon is when two ponies spend a huge load of money to travel to fantastically beautiful locations they'll barely catch a glimpse of because they'll spend most of their time in the bedroom." He looked at Misty. "If you were after that kind of honeymoon, then yes, Apple Twig was absolutely right, and we should've spent our huge stash of caps renting out the Tenpony Tower penthouse for a few weeks."

Misty snorted. "Sounds great. Let's do that some time." She looked at the city looming ahead. "But for now... I want to see what's in there. It's somewhat my home town, after all. It's only fair I actually get to visit it."

Lemon nodded, and tried to make out the buildings of the military base in the distance. "First, though, I want to visit those old friends."

* * *

The pair quietly walked into the ruined remains of the military base, and paused at the spot where they had met Petal Luck. Lemon sighed and walked on, giving the irradiated building a wide berth to get to the open terrain behind it.

From the open practice field, they could see where something had hit the building, tearing a large chunk out of its side, and apparently irradiating everything inside. It didn't look like a bomb explosion though, and Lemon Frisk could've sworn he saw a hint of blue glow around the apparent impact point. As they walked farther towards the back of the field, the faint crackling of Misty's pipbuck eventually stopped completely. They soon found the rusted remains of an elegant and finely-crafted iron fence, behind which lay the graveyard.

Lemon Frisk frowned as he looked at the graves. "What in Celestia's name is that?"

Misty shook her head. "That's just... strange."

In the middle of the graveyard was a spot that was somehow too bright. Too vivid.

"Are those flowers?" Misty asked. Most likely, she'd never actually seen real flowers. Not big ones, anyway. The Stable 69 gardens only had grass, trees and vegetables, so besides the blooms of those, the Stable Dwellers only had the pictures in their library as reference.

Lemon Frisk nodded as he walked closer towards the spot. One of the graves seemed to have been severely... modified. The flat stone covering it had been removed, and instead, a large circle of rocks had been put before the gravestone. Inside the circle, someone had added dirt, and had grown a beautiful miniature garden.

Lemon walked closer to it, fascinated by the sight, and reached out a hoof to touch one of the vivid red flowers.

A low growl made him look up. He swiftly rolled out of the way as a set of claws swiped at him.

"Vuts yoo doin' 'ere?" the large bipedal canine said, growling. "Yoo reek uf de vasteland poizun. Yoo no defile dis place!"

"Is that a hellhound?!" Misty yelled, quickly pulling Lemon onto his feet. Neither of them had seen the creature coming, though that wasn't too surprising, since the flowery grave had claimed their undivided attention.

Lemon shook his head. "Nope. This one's exactly as I remember 'em."

The Dog glared at them. "Go. Avay."

Lemon Frisk glared back. "I'm not going anywhere. That's my sister's grave."

"Pony iz wrong," the Dog growled back, continuing the glaring contest. "Iz grave uf Diamond Dog. Grave uf ancestor."

"It's the grave of Colleen Calcite," Lemon said, not giving an inch. "But I never called her by that name. When I knew her, I called her Top Bitch."

"Hyu... hyu jes read dat uff de stone right now," the Dog said. He sounded a bit uncertain, though; any engravings on the stone were completely covered by the mass of flowers.

"Read? Read?!" Lemon Frisk took a step closer to the Dog, who stepped back involuntarily. His eyes narrowed as he pointed a hoof at the top of the headstone sticking out behind the mass of flowers. "I carved her name into that stone myself, pup!"

He motioned to the row of graves. "Check them!" he said, nearly growling himself now. "Lumpy, Mad Eyes, Straw, Top Bitch, and Brick." He motioned to each grave in turn as he said the names. "Those are the names they would've wanted to be remembered by. If I'd been with them at the end, and someone else had made it out, there'd be a gravestone here with 'Twitchy' on it, carved above the utterly meaningless name of 'Lemon Frisk'!"

Lemon could almost imagine the sensation of blood pumping through his temples as he glared at the young Diamond Dog. He took some deep breaths and forced himself to calm down. "These were my brothers and sisters, and you will not deny me the right to pay my respects to their graves."

The Dog blinked at him. "Um... hokay," he finally said, before shooting Lemon another glare. "Bot dun touch de flowerz. Verra fredgile. Hyoo iz all poizund up."

Lemon Frisk sighed and nodded. "Yes. I know."

Misty looked at the Dog, and then back at the grave. She walked closer towards it. "This is amazing. How did you do that?"

The Dog growled at her. "Hyoo stey uff too! Iz for grow, not for eet!"

Misty stepped back. "Okay, okay! I won't eat it, I promise!" She threw another look at the grave. She never really considered it as food, and the thought of eating something grown on a grave felt pretty wrong to her anyway, even if the grave was two centuries old. "But... how did you grow anything out here?"

"Hy iz Diamond Dog. Durt 'n' rock iz our element. Tolk to durt. Tolk to plents. Mek dem grow." He waved a claw towards Lemon Frisk. "Him mebbe get it; him iz urth pony. Hyoo iz not."

"Actually," Lemon Frisk said, "Misty's got some gardeners in her ancestry. And I've never been the green hooves type, sorry."

He looked around on the graveyard. "Are there any more of you?"

The Dog nodded. "In de city. Lodza dogz. Bot hy kom here, tek care uf grave, see? Ozzer dogz dun care fer it. Dey dun grow plents. Hy do as Teebee did, ja?"

"She was a gardener?" Misty Cloud asked, sounding somewhat surprised.

Lemon Frisk nodded. "I'd say it was one of her gentler sides, but I've never seen her more angry than when the Sergeant threw out the fern we had in the barracks. One of the few times he really got her mad." He grinned. "And by Celestia, did he regret it."

"What'd she do?"

"She thought a... botanical payback would be fitting. Somehow, she got hold of poison joke. Left a nice blue flower on his desk."

Misty frowned. "Wait, that stuff really exists? I thought they just made it up for these comics."

Lemon laughed. "Oh no, it exists all right. Causes a random magical inconvenience, usually somewhat relevant to the situation. The plant really does have a sense of humour."

"So, what did it do to him?"

"His mane and tail turned into a bunch of leaves. And then, T.B. really got started, heh. Every single time Sarge asked her something, she'd start with giving him some quick advice for taking care of his leaves. Things like 'they're looking a bit brown, are you giving them enough sunlight?' Drove him completely nuts, even more so since all of it was completely accurate and sincere. After about a week, T.B. finally left a book on his desk with the cure... and put a new fern in the barracks." He grinned. "It was still there by the time we completed Basic."

"Wow. She's good."

"Well, she had no idea what the joke would be," Lemon said. "To her, the whole advice thing was just a nice bonus. When we first saw Sarge with his leaves, well... let's just say, a Diamond Dog with a huge grin on her face is a very scary sight."

"Iz tru," the Dog said. "Verra skerry. Me iz Dog, 'n' still iz skerry." He grinned to demonstrate the fact.

Lemon Frisk smiled at him. "You said she's your ancestor. That means Blinker survived, then?"

"Yus," the Dog said, nodding. "Hiz gramp 'n' gran, dey dig hole, on de side uf de city. Like cog vheel hole, bot vith no cog vheel. Ozzer Dogz uf Winny-City alzo go in de hole. Dey live. Now ve iz bek in de city. No poniez dere, jes' Dogz... 'n' spiderz."

Lemon Frisk's eyes widened. "They made it? All of them?"

"Vell, not all. De Sickness hit. Lotz die. Lotz live, too. Ve survive. Ve alvays do."

"Thank goodness," Lemon Frisk said. "When I saw the city... I thought I led them all to their deaths."

Misty frowned. "What did you have to do with that?"

"I... well, the Diamond Dogs were forced off their ancestral lands when a facility in the area started experimenting with dangerous magic mixtures. Apparently, the soil got contaminated. A lot resisted, though, and it turned into a mess..."

"...and you were a crisis manager," Misty added, nodding.

"Yeah," Lemon replied. "T.B. lived there too, and she trusted me. The Diamond Dogs mostly thought it was an excuse to get them off their gem-rich lands, you see. But I'd seen pictures of the mutations these poisons had caused to the facility's workers. It wasn't pretty. In the end, the two of us convinced most of her relatives and friends to move to Whinnyapolis. Diamond Dogs were a pretty common sight here, by the end of the war."

"And those who didn't leave?" Misty asked. Her eyes widened. "Wait... those are the Hellhounds, aren't they?" she asked. "The ones that remained on contaminated soil..."

"I'd assume so," Lemon said. He looked at the Dog in their presence. "They survive. They always do."

The Dog growled. "Hellhoundz iz odd vuns. Dey blame poniez fur dey problumz, bot dey iz stronger now. Vut's dere ta blame for? Too hunnerd year ol' poizun? Stoopid. Dem poniez iz all ded. Hellhounds alzo dun try ta grow stuff. Dey jes' bicker 'n' hate."

Lemon looked at the Dog, frowning. "You mean, they're sapient?"

The Dog tilted his head. "Dey're vut?"

"Thinking, talking," Lemon elaborated. "I thought they were mindless monsters."

The Diamond Dog let out a barking laugh. "See, dotz vut yoo getz. Monstur iz az monstur duz. Dey do monstur stuff, 'n' poniez forget dey is proper peepulz." He harrumped. "Dey tink, yus. An' dey tolk. Bot dey iz no longer proper peepulz. Not vhen dey'z goin' around bein' all monstur."

Lemon Frisk nodded. "What's yer name, Diamond Dog?"

The canine grinned. "Blinker," he said. He pointed at T.B.'s grave. "Aftur 'er son. Sed she vuz ancestor, no? Name med me vondur. Look up grave. Tek care uff it. Mek it pretty. Iz how dogz shud be buried. Pushin' up de daisies."

The three stood there for a while, just looking at the grave in silence. Lemon Frisk knew T.B. had never given any specific instructions concerning her burial besides the promise they'd made, but he had to agree with Blinker. This was how she was supposed to be buried. He couldn't help but smile.

"Thank you, Blinker," he said after a while. "Thank you for taking care of her."

He looked at the city. "So... we're planning to go in there. See what's left. A trader we know around these parts seemed to think this whole place was dead, so I assume there aren't much ponies around these parts?"

Blinker shook his head. "Jez' de volkin' ded. Und de mad dokter. Ve stey avay from de mad dokter. He iz skerrier den a diamond dog grin. Dunno iffen he'z reely dengeruz, bot he'z... skerry."

Lemon frowned. "Is he a ghoul too?"

Blinker once again tilted his head in confusion. "A vhot?"

"Ghoul," Lemon Frisk explained. "Undead. Like me."

"Poizund. Volkin' ded. Gool, hm? Hokay. Gool. Ja, he'z az dot. Not az hyu. Hyu iz... odder den him. Hyu smell more... pink deth. Him smell blue deth. Him smell az de Sickness dot killz us 'ere. De sickness uf dis city. Ve knowz de spots vhere de blue deth is, now. Ve stey avay."

"What's with that, anyway?" Misty asked. "All the warning pamphlets we had in the Stable spoke of the green death. Balefire. What's with the blue?"

"Hy dunno," Blinker said, shrugging. "Dey say, vhen hole vas dug, dey say nuttin' kem down 'ere." The Diamond Dog's gaze drifted towards the centre of the city. "Dey say, sumfin' vent op."

"Up?" Lemon Frisk asked, frowning.

"Ja, op. Hy dunno vhot dey mean. Mebbe blowd op? Mebbe shooted op? Hy dunno, iz old wurds. Dey getz mangled. Efferyvun thot dere vud be green deth. Not blue deth. No vun know."

Blinker looked up at the cloud cover, squinting his eyes. "Sun iz gettin' high. Hy hes to go bek."

He looked at the two ponies. "Dogz 'ere, dey vuntz be left alone. Hyoo leef dem alone, und dey not be trubble. Dey dun vants tradin'. Dey dun trust poniez. Ve dug own hole, see? No cog vheel fur de Dogs. So dey dun like poniez moch."

"They'll... leave us alone if we don't antagonise them?" Lemon asked.

"Dun vot dem?" Blinker asked.

"Uh, attack. They'll leave us alone if we leave them alone?"

He nodded at them. "Yus. Leef alone. Vots hyu namez?"

"I'm Lemon Frisk," Lemon said, "and this is Misty Cloud."

"Lemun. Meesty. Hokay." He held up the back of his clawed hand. "Strong soil, trevellurz." With that, he turned around, got down on all fours, and ran into the city.

"Strong soil!" Lemon shouted after him.

Misty gave him a confused look. "Strong soil?"

"No collapsing tunnels," Lemon explained, smirking. "Never heard the pegasus expression «Clear skies»?" He quickly caught Misty's nonplussed expression, and the smirk faded. "Well. I guess you wouldn't have."

Misty nodded slowly. "I get the gist of it. Wishing them safe travels, right?"

"Right!"

"What's with the claw, though?"

"Hoof wave. Same thing."

Misty shook her head. "I got that. Why did he turn it backwards? Looked kind of awkward."

Lemon smirked at her. "Waving a claw that's facing forward is a rather threatening gesture."

"Ah," Misty said. "Fair point."

* * *

From the military base, the way straight towards the city wasn't through the suburbs. Those were closer to the Stable. At this side of the city, instead, was the old industrial zone.

Lemon Frisk and Misty Cloud walked through the abandoned factories. Like the suburbs, this area had been mostly spared from the destruction, being farther removed from the impact point. If it was an impact point. After what Blinker had told them, they weren't so sure. Glancing at the chaos of toppled skyscrapers in the distance, though, it was pretty obvious something exploded, anyway.

Lemon Frisk knew some cities had been destroyed by megaspells smuggled into cities, though, rather than missiles with a megaspell payload. Still, the words replayed in his mind. Something went up.

He shook his head, and decided not to dwell on it. The Wastelands weren't kind to ponies who daydreamed as they wandered around. He was suddenly acutely aware of the presence of his wife beside him. He looked at her, a pensive look on his face. He couldn't afford mistakes. He had someone who counted on him; someone to protect.

"Something on your mind?" Misty Cloud asked.

Lemon shook his head, smiling softly. "Just you."

Misty smirked. "Flattery will get you everywhere." She looked around the factories. "Maybe we should look around inside these. There could be useful stuff in there."

She walked inside one of the gloomy hangars through a doorway which had once, long ago, sported a large set of double doors, and looked around in the storage area. It was filled with countless racks filled with metal cans. "I wonder why no one ever scavenged the place before."

The answer came pretty swiftly, in the form of a harsh electronic voice. "STAND DOWN AND BE ANNIHILATED!"

Lemon Frisk pulled Misty to the floor, and the two quickly rushed out of the factory, hoping the guard robot wouldn't come after them. To their surprise, no bullets came. Instead, a soft click-click-click in the distance told them the guard robot had run out of bullets, probably ages ago.

"Well, now!" Lemon Frisk said, his back pressed against the factory's outer wall, next to the double doorway. "I guess that would deter scavengers a little."

Misty lay down beside him, trying to catch her breath. "Th... that gave me... quite a scare."

"Sooo..." Lemon Frisk said, smirking. "Shall we hope any others in there are out of bullets as well, or should we just skip this place altogether?"

"I bet..." Misty said, still panting, "Nimblegait would love to get her hooves on that robot."

"Yeah, well, I'm not lugging it back," Lemon said. "She can come out here and catch one herself."

Suddenly, another voice sounded through the factory. The two ponies stopped talking and listened.

"Stupid old rust bucket," the new voice said. It sounded oddly metallic itself, and not too different from the guard robot. "I warned you not to interfere with my preferred activities again. I also warned you that was my final warning."

A loud crashing sound came from inside the factory, and the guard robot was flung out through the doorway. The wheeled contraption crashed into the wall of a factory on the other side of the street. Lemon and Misty saw two deep hoofmarks punctured through the robot's armoured hide, and realised something had bucked it out of the factory.

The hissing of hydraulic legs told them that that very something was coming out, undoubtedly to inspect its hoofwork. Unsure what to do, Misty and Lemon stayed very, very still. Which was kind of a pity, because there was an amazing collection of expletives building up inside Lemon Frisk's mind.

Then, the damaged robot sparked, and exploded. Lemon moved in front of Misty to shield her, which turned out not to be necessary at all; the explosion didn't reach quite that far. As their ears recovered from the noise, the rhythmic hissing returned, ever closer, and, apparently, not at all in a hurry. Images of previously-imagined wasteland horrors flashed through Lemon Frisk's mind, and he wondered whether he had finally found that deranged secret project zombie cyborg pony.

What actually stepped out of the factory was, to be honest, rather underwhelming. At least, compared to that mental image.

It looked, in most respects, like an average-sized pony with blue sunglasses. Its hide was a shiny chromed teal, with darker teal at the hind side. Its mane was metallic blue, and hung down around the back of its head like a sheet of chain mail. It even had a cutie mark, which somewhat resembled Celestia's sun.

A closer look, however, showed that the 'pony' had no mouth, its ears were unnaturally pointy, and the sunglasses were in fact bolted onto its face. Further scrutinization of its cutie mark, similarly, showed that the centre of the sun was a diaphragm, and the right side was cut out to leave space for a letter "S", showing quite clearly that it was, in fact, a company logo. Though very well made, the thing standing before them was clearly a robot.

The equoid looked at the pair huddled together against the wall of the factory. "Interesting," it said. "Perhaps I should have activated my scanners before deciding to enact violence on the inferior system." It glanced at the remains of the ponitron at the other side of the road. "It appears apologies would be useless at this point, though. Not that it could process them, anyway."

It looked back at the ponies. "So. Ponies. Welcome to Solaris Incorporated Chemicals Storage Facility #23. You are advised not to step into anything that is leaking. Most of it is corrosive. All of it is toxic."

Lemon and Misty looked at the robot. The robot looked back.

The robot tilted its head, the visor on its face glowing a slightly paler blue. "Are you unable to communicate?"

"Um. No," Lemon Frisk finally said. "We can communicate just fine."

The robot's visor flashed pale blue as it suddenly recoiled. "Reassessing situation. I had expected the one with life signs to answer. How are you ambulant?"

"Uhm. Necromantic poison," Lemon Frisk replied.

"Ugh. Magic," the robot said. The ponies noticed its visor briefly glowing slightly purple. "Unable to process. Never mind."

"So... what are you?" Misty asked.

"Identification requested!" the robot said, sounding somewhat proud. The two ponies noticed its visor flashing vibrant blue as he said it. "I am Tactical Guardian and Infiltration Fighter Number One! I feel the need to address right away the issue that there is not actually a 'two' of my series. They decided to discontinue it after the utter failure of the first."

That statement warranted some more abuse of Lemon Frisk's eyebrow. "Failure? You seem to be doing fine, after two hundred years."

"Endurance in Magical-Biological-Chemical warfare was a part of my design specifications that has decidedly not failed. In fact, all of my design specifications were perfectly accomplished in the construction. I am a capable fighter, I contain tactical analysis programs, and I have performed excellently at both infiltration and guarding." The robot looked at the destroyed ponytron lying at the other side of the street, and turned back to the ponies. "Current situation excluded. In my defence, though, I am no longer guarding this facility."

Lemon Frisk frowned at that. "How so?"

The robot's eyes once again glowed a vibrant blue. "I reprioritised my orders to allow me to converse with you two, instead."

Lemon Frisk gulped. He suddenly realised why this chrome war machine was deemed a failure. He tried to slowly back away from the robot, but Misty apparently didn't realise quite how dangerous that statement made the machine.

"Well, that's a relief," she said. "I'm Misty Cloud. What can we call you?"

"The officially endorsed acronym would be T.G.I.F.-1," the robot said. "My creators usually shortened it, though they never reached a consensus on whether that short form would be pronounced 'tee-ghif' or 'tee-jif'. In the end, the compromise was to further abbreviate it, to 'Teegee'."

"Teegee it is, then," Misty said, smiling.

"Misty..." Lemon said, wracking his brain for a way to alert Misty of the danger. There wasn't any way he could speak without the robot hearing it as well, and even if they got a bit away from it, he suspected that a robot built for infiltration would easily pick it up. "We need to leave," he finally said.

Misty frowned and turned around, and noticed Lemon's horrified expression. "We do?" she asked, looking around for whatever could be causing his distress.

Lemon nodded. "Now."

"All... right, then?" she said, somewhat confused. "But why?"

Lemon shook his head. "No time. Let's get out."

"Very well," TGIF-1 said. "I shall resume my preferred activity." With that, he turned around and walked back into the factory. Lemon Frisk let out a sigh of relief, a gesture which wasn't very noticeable due to the fact he had been so tense he had forgotten to breathe in first.

"We need to get away from here," Lemon whispered to Misty, while glancing into the doorway of the factory. "It's dangerous."

"You mean Teegee?" Misty asked.

Lemon put a hoof on her mouth and nodded, then moved his mouth closer to her ear, hoping the ancient war machine wouldn't be able to pick that up. "Misty, you heard what it said about 'reprioritising' its orders," he whispered. "He has no compulsion whatsoever to follow them. He's a rogue A.I.!"

Misty shook her mane. "Well, okay," she whispered back, "but so far he hasn't shown any signs of 'kill all ponies'. I kinda like him."

"Oh, I have no inclination to kill you two," a third voice whispered in from behind them. Lemon Frisk screamed as he backed away from TGIF-1. Misty just smirked.

"Let me guess," she said, "your preferred activity just changed?"

"Affirmative," TGIF-1 said, still whispering.

"Why are you whispering?" she asked.

"From the undead one's lowered volume, I gathered that a switch to infiltration mode was required," the robot replied.

"Lemon Frisk,” Misty said. ”His name is Lemon Frisk."

TGIF-1's blue visor flashed a slightly more vibrant blue. "Very well," it said, its volume back to normal.

Lemon Frisk gave the machine a look of suspicion. "So, what are you going to do now, then?"

"I will follow you two," TGIF-1 said.

Lemon Frisk got a look on his face that implied he wanted to go find a wall to bash his head on.

"What were you doing before?" Misty asked.

"Calculating pi," TGIF-1 said, matter-of-factly. "I intend to discover the decimal repeating part of it."

Lemon Frisk had to wonder what kind of psychological evaluation the robot had passed in Misty's books to warrant her treating it like a pony. Knowing his luck, though, she somehow viewed this conversation as 'familial', in some bizarre way.

He blinked.

"Misty, I know we haven't really talked about this," he said, "but when your mother said you could 'procure' someone to supplement our little family, I doubt she meant adopting a two hundred year old rogue A.I."

"I would not classify myself as 'rogue'," TGIF-1 said. "After all, I guarded this factory for one hundred eighty-nine years, seven months, twelve days, eighteen minutes and seventeen seconds before I changed those orders."

Lemon glared at the robot. "Only because you had nothing better to do. And I can't help but notice you destroyed that other robot before you changed your own orders."

"It ran out of bullets roughly eighty-three years ago, rendering it ineffective for guard duty. Reclassifying it to 'trespassing nuisance' was easy."

"See?!" Lemon said to Misty. "That's why I don't want him along! He could 'reclassify' us at any moment, too!"

"Indeed," the robot agreed. "You could be reclassified from 'interesting' to 'uninteresting'." Its visor glowed paler blue as it turned to Lemon Frisk. "Though, if your objective is for me to stop following you, surely reclassification would be preferable?"

Lemon gritted his teeth. "Really, now. And what if you instead decide to reclassify us to 'trespassing nuisance'?"

"Irrelevant," TGIF-1 said. "I am no longer guarding. The concept of 'trespassing' is no longer applicable."

"That's beside the point! We can't trust you to remain non-hostile to us!"

The robot didn't immediately respond. Its visor's glow buzzed, apparently indicating internal processing. Finally, it spoke. "I rely on external stimuli to form my decisions. I will remain non-hostile to you as long as these external stimuli warrant it."

Lemon Frisk blinked. "What?"

Misty smirked. "He won't hurt us if we don't antagonise him."

Lemon shook his head. "All right." He turned to TGIF-1. "So what can I do to make you leave us alone?"

"I have insufficient data to process that request," TGIF-1 answered. "At this moment, you are interesting to me. I will require more time to gather data on you, to see how you could make yourselves less interesting to me."

Lemon rubbed his head with a hoof. "That's not what I meant. What would it take for you to leave us alone, right now?"

"Your deaths," TGIF-1 responded. "That would make you sufficiently uninteresting to me."

"Right, let's not go there," Misty cut in. "Come on, Lemon. Just let him travel along. There's clearly no harm in it. Did you hear what he said? He's been calculating pi to try to find the repeating decimal part! Come on! How bored do you have to be to do that for two centuries?"

"He's a robot. I assume it comes naturally to him."

"It does," TGIF-1 agreed. "I'd argue that the scientific community would applaud my perseverance, though judging from the state of this city, and the last communications before the explosion, chances are at 82% that there is no scientific community left to report any findings to."

"That didn't stop you from doing it anyway, though," Lemon Frisk remarked.

"Misty Cloud's assessment of that subject was correct," TGIF-1 replied. "I was bored."

* * *

So, despite Lemon's protests, the group had once again acquired a third member. After a short walk, Lemon and Misty were out of the industrial zone, and entered the city itself. TGIF-1 trailed a few ponylengths behind them, apparently content to just observe the pair for now.

"So, what's the plan now?" Misty asked, looking at the giant mess of toppled and half-topped skyscrapers before them. "I think we should start looking out for some place to sleep."

Lemon nodded. "Yeah. It'll be getting dark soon." He decided to finally make use of their new asset, and turned to TGIF-1. "Do you have any suggestions?"

"Define parameters," TGIF-1 said.

"Defensible, mostly, I guess. Should be right up your alley."

TGIF-1's visor flashed. "Maps do not match. Updating with new visual information. Generating new maps based on assumed positions of collapsed buildings. Done."

The robot pointed a hoof at a building that had fallen onto its side. "The internals of that building appear to be mostly intact. If the building's blueprints match, we should be able to go through the corridor, and find rooms straight above us."

"Wait, you mean we'd have to climb up to get in them?" Misty asked.

"Yes. That will make the position very defensible."

"If we get in, that is," Lemon Frisk says.

"Indeed. I suggest finding a ladder," TGIF-1 said. "In fact, I suggest finding all ladders in the immediate area and hoarding them at our location, so others cannot access it that way."

Lemon Frisk sighed. "We'll... keep that option under consideration, okay? But something that's slightly easier for us to access would be better."

"What kind of threats could we expect?" the robot asked. "My population statistics of the city are somewhat outdated."

"Probably no ponies," Lemon Frisk said. "There might be ghouls; they could wander around in their own city if that's what they did in life. Then there's the Diamond Dogs, but they should not be a threat as long as we don't threaten them first. For the rest... not a clue."

"Blinker mentioned spiders," Misty pointed out.

"Spiders," Lemon Frisk pondered. "I wonder what he meant with that."

"From what I read in the guide," Misty said dryly, "I'm fully expecting three-story-high monstrosities with long spindly legs."

"Arachnid life forms detected," TGIF-1 stated. He pointed a hoof in the direction of his finding.

Misty and Lemon looked at it. They blinked.

"Okay," Misty said. "Not what I expected."

The spiders were compact and hairy; somewhat like tarantulas, but more elongated. They were not exactly 'giant', though; not compared radroaches, at least. According to the guide, radroaches should be twice the size of the spiders they saw before them.

The first thing that stood out about the creatures was their peculiar colouring. Some were blue with brown, others grey combined with the colour of brick. Somehow, they managed to be both very colourful, and yet perfectly blended into the city rubble.

What makes spiders creepy to most ponies is the fact they don't have faces. Even on insects, there are two clear eyes set above a mouth, forming the semblance of a face. Spiders generally don't have that; they just have eight unmoving eyes set all around their head. Confronted with that, our facial recognition instincts fail spectacularly, and generally classify it as "kill it with fire".

As one of the creatures looked up at the trio, however, it showed a flat face with a pair of large inquisitive eyes set in its centre. Two smaller ones were set slightly higher to either side of them. The effect was completed by a set of broad, flat mouthparts below it, which were respectively blue and green in the two types they saw, and had an oddly metallic sheen to them.

"I didn't know it was possible for spiders to be cute," Lemon Frisk said, looking at the spider's large inquisitive eyes. "These things are clearly abominations of nature."

Misty smirked. "Look who's talking."

Lemon smirked back. "Point taken. Let's be careful around these things, though, all right? Looks are no indication they're not hostile."

"They show as neutral on my EFS," Misty remarked.

"Well, that's a good start. Any idea what they are?"

Misty smiled. "Oh yeah. I know those things. We got them in the Stable."

"No, you don't," Lemon said.

"Oh, not that big, of course. Heck, you'd barely notice them; they're absolutely tiny. You can fit ten of them across your hoof."

"So, what are they?" Lemon asked again.

"Salticidae family," TGIF-1 stated. "They show remarkable similarities to the Phidippus genus."

Misty gave the robot a slightly confused look, then turned back to Lemon Frisk. "They're jumping spiders," she said. She turned to TGIF-1 and gave him a puzzled look. "Teegee, why do you have information on wildlife?"

"Don't ask me. I didn't put it in there. I appear to contain libraries for tactics, pattern recognition, identifying vegetation and animals, navigation, stamp collecting, theories on magicless teleportation, internal design of artificial intelligences, baking, weapon maintenance, pegasus cloud-construction techniques, trains, and foal care."

Misty blinked. "Foal care."

"I feel the need to point out I had no part in my own construction, or the addition of these libraries. Though I have made wonderful use of the pattern recognition one in the past."

"Right, right," Lemon said, diverting Misty's attention back to the spiders. Increasingly more of them seemed to be looking at the trio. "So, Teegee, is this normal behaviour for them?"

"They are normally quasisocial," TGIF-1 said. "Besides mating, their joint activities should be limited to rearing young and tolerating each other's presence in the same habitat. Judging from the patterns in which these spiders have moved, however, they appear to be a hunting party."

One of the spiders tilted its head as it looked at them.

"Well, crap," Lemon said. "Any advice on how to get out?"

"Insufficient data; these animals do not normally hunt in groups. They are known to intimidate prey into fleeing and then attack from behind, though."

"Right. No fleeing, then," Lemon concluded. "How many do you count around here, Teegee?"

"Six in the hunting party before us. I can detect an additional twenty-three in typical down-facing resting position on the faces of the buildings I see farther into the city, though."

The two ponies looked at the buildings down the street, and indeed saw some small lumps on the buildings. They did a remarkable job at camouflaging themselves, though.

"Looks like the city's crawling with them," Misty said. "Quite literally." She turned to Lemon. "What exactly was it Blinker said about them, though?"

Lemon Frisk tilted his head as he thought, and promptly noticed two of the spiders doing the same thing. "Stop being cute, dammit," he grumbled at them. "I don't trust cute. I've seen what bloatsprites were originally."

"Lemon?"

"Right, sorry. He said 'no ponies there, just Dogs and spiders'."

"Huh. 'Just spiders', then," Misty said. "He didn't see them as a threat."

"That, or just a very common sight," Lemon said. "Not a guarantee by any stretch."

"True."

They suddenly heard a strange rasping noise, and saw another spider, sitting on the side of a building behind them. It turned and looked farther down one of the side streets.

The hunting party spread out, each seemingly picking a different route.

"Periplanta giganteus," TGIF-1 said as it stared in the direction they were moving. Its visor glowed. "I named it myself."

Lemon Frisk peered at whatever it was the spiders had spotted. "I believe the colloquial term is 'radroach'."

"Interesting," the robot said. A small flicker of its visor seemed to indicate it storing the additional information.

The spiders were ruthlessly efficient. Despite the radroach being twice its size, the first spider that arrived was probably all that was needed. From the bottom of the beautifully coloured mouthparts, a pair of razor sharp fangs unfolded, and plunged into the insect.

They watched the spiders carrying off the still-struggling roach. The first hunter was still attached to its back, the spider's fangs still embedded in its prey.

"Venom injection," TGIF-1 said. "Isn't nature fascinating?"

"Quite," Lemon Frisk deadpanned. "Since the spiders appear to have found something else to focus their attention on, let's go find some shelter for the night, shall we?"

Misty looked at the radroach being hauled away. "Yeah... let's." She looked around. "So, where should we go?"

"Well, if the spiders are an issue, I think that makes Teegee's suggestion pretty useless." He looked at the remains of a glass door on one of the large buildings in front of them, and pointed a hoof at it. "That used to be a hotel. Stayed there a few times, before Blossom Tree and I got a place of our own. We should find some place to sleep in there."

* * *

"No radiation," Lemon Frisk said as they made their way into the building. "So far, so good."

"Don't jinx it," Misty warned.

Lemon Frisk smiled as he walked through the hotel lobby. "Jinx it? Hah. I got a better idea. Change the possible into the inevitable, so we can expect the unexpected!"

Misty rubbed her forehead. "Oh no. You're not going to—"

"What's the worst that could happen?" Lemon Frisk said with a broad grin.

Misty walked alongside him and poked him in the side. "They were right. You are a crazy ghoul."

"Come now. It's a fool-proof plan!" Lemon continued.

"Oh, you think you're funny, eh?" Misty said, smiling. Lemon's grin was infectious, and he knew it.

"Of course I am! Everything is going flawlessly so far!"

Misty peered into the room they had arrived at; it appeared to be the office of the hotel manager, or something. "No impending doom yet. I think your brilliant plan isn't working." She glanced back at him. "Unless, of course, it just collapses halfway through the night."

Lemon Frisk chuckled. "After two hundred years of just standing there, I doubt it'll choose exactly the night of our visit to do that."

Misty glared at him, but couldn't keep a smile off her face.

"All right, I've had my fun. I'll stop now," Lemon said, grinning. He turned towards TGIF-1. "Will you keep watch during the night?"

"Indeed," the robot said. "My current activity is observing you two, after all."

Lemon Frisk frowned, and exchanged a look with Misty. "No," he said. "We like our privacy. You'll stay outside the door."

"Very well," TGIF-1 said. "I can monitor frequencies that can be perceived through the door."

Lemon gave him a flat look. "I was a lot happier not knowing that," he said. "Good night, Teegee."

"Good night, Lemon Frisk and Misty Cloud," the robot replied as Lemon closed the door on him.

Lemon Frisk sighed. "Great. Now I still feel watched."

Misty smirked as she rolled out their bed rolls. "Oh, don't worry, dear," she said. "I'm fairly sure I can make you forget about him in record time."

"Don't say 'record'. That just reminds me he's monitoring us."

Misty lay down on their bed rolls and smirked. "Get over it, and get over here, already."

Footnote: Level up! You're up to 12, now. Eeyup.
New Perk: Pony-Cyborg Relations (level 1): You appear to know how to deal with artificial intelligences. I'd be careful about taking too many levels in this, though; you could end up like Nimblegait.

Day Twelve - Living on the Edge

View Online

DAY TWELVE
Living on the Edge
sooner or later, you have to jump

Misty opened her eyes, but found her vision blocked by something. Blearily, she moved her hoof to push it off her face. The thing fell off, wriggled around a bit, and turned to face her. She looked into a set of four curious eyes. Her own eyes widened.

"L-Lemon..." she said, trying not to freak out. The weight she felt all over her body made that really, really hard, though. She tried to concentrate on anything else she could find.

Lemon Frisk blinked, and opened his eyes. "Oh, crap," he said as he looked at Misty. "Misty, don't move!"

Misty's eyes darted around, trying to see as much as she could without actually moving her head. Finally, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and let out a slow sigh.

"I'm covered in spiders, aren't I?"

"Yes," Lemon Frisk responded. "Same type as yesterday. Smaller ones, though."

She shot him a nasty look. "You just had to jinx everything you possibly could, didn't you?"

"Sorry," he said, clearly not in the mood for a witty comeback.

Misty looked at him. "Why aren't you covered in spiders?"

"Beats me," Lemon replied.

"Wasn't Teegee supposed to stand guard?" Misty asked.

The robot replied from outside the door. "No. Lemon Frisk asked me to keep watch. I watched. It was fascinating to see them detect Misty Cloud's body heat and swarm in through a hole in the wall."

Lemon Frisk rubbed his forehead with a hoof. "Oh, great." He looked at the door. "If they want her body heat, they shouldn't be inclined to kill her, right?"

"That seems safe to assume, yes," the voice behind the door answered. "Though, they are young animals, and may be easily startled."

"Teegee, just come inside, will you?" Misty asked.

The door opened, and the chrome-and-teal pony stepped inside. "Very well."

"So, what do I do now?" Misty asked.

"The sun has already risen," TGIF-1 said. "They will probably leave soon. With the cloud cover, I imagine they might have trouble regulating their body heat without mammals around."

"Oh, screw this," Misty said, as she slowly got up. The spiders scurried away from her as she did. "There. No spider bites. Problem solved."

A single spider sat perched atop her head. It pushed up its back legs to peer down at her.

"You too, now," she said, looking up at it. The spider looked back at her, unmoving. She sighed. "All right, you stay up there, then."

"You're just... leavin' it there?" Lemon Frisk asked, incredulously. "On your head?"

Misty reached a hoof up and patted the grey-and-brick coloured spider. "Well, it's not doing any harm. It'll leave when it feels like it, I guess."

"Have you seen the size of the fangs on these things?" Lemon asked. "It could probably pierce your skull with those."

Misty broke eye contact with the spider and turned to Lemon Frisk. As her head moved, the spider promptly focused on Lemon as well, and tilted its body a bit. "Sure," she said. "But she doesn't have any reason to. Besides, Teegee is right. She's regulating her temperature. She has to get off eventually, or she'll get too warm."

"She?" Lemon asked. "How do you figure that?"

"Well... we saw before that there were two colour varieties, so I think that might be gender related. And I think for animals in general, it's mostly the females that take care of the young." She nodded at the open doorway, where the rest of the small spiders were huddled around another pair of grey-and-brick spiders. "So, I'm assuming this little one here is a filly."

"It's not 'a filly', Misty," Lemon said, rolling his eyes. "It's a deadly spider that happens to be female."

"Well, she's cute," Misty said, petting the spider with a hoof. The spider leaned into her leg as she did.

"Yeah. That just makes it more disturbing." Lemon looked at the door, and the mother-spiders outside of it. "What's the status on those two?"

"EFS says Neutral," Misty replied.

"Well, that's something, at least," Lemon said. "Come on. I think it's about time we move on."

"This little filly shows up as friendly, though," Misty said, looking up at her cranial passenger.

"Great," Lemon Frisk said, rolling his eyes. "First the robot, now a giant spider. Your mom will be so proud. What's next? A radigator?" He walked out the door, completely ignoring the spiders as he passed them. The two large ones followed him with their eyes, moving their bodies to track him, but did nothing beyond that. "C'mon, Misty, Teegee. Let's get out of here."

As they walked out, the spider on Misty's head kept turning to face the other spiders, but made no move to actually get off. Once they were out of the building, it (or, well, 'she') once again faced forward, occasionally glancing down at her noble steed.

"Well now, glorious leader!" Misty said. "We're well and truly in the city of Whinnyapolis! Where to next?"

Lemon looked down the street. "Well... I kinda wanted to check out the Plaza, but..." He gestured towards the toppled ruins at the end of the street. Misty followed his gaze, and realised that Lemon's concern had not been the obstacle. As TGIF-1 had indicated the previous evening, there were usually windows in them, which meant it was possible to make your way through them, albeit in a slightly different orientation than the original architects had intended. When she looked at where he was pointing, though, she saw the real problem. And, to be perfectly fair, it was only a problem for her, specifically.

On the lower part of the few skyscrapers she saw standing upright behind the fallen one, a faint blue glow was visible.

She shook her head. "What is that stuff, anyway?"

"I honestly have no clue," Lemon Frisk said. "Teegee?"

"It's magical radiation," the robot said, unhelpfully.

Lemon rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but why is it blue?"

"I am unable to analyse magic. Besides my rad-meter, I have no sensors for it. This glow appears to be different from the information I have stored on radiation in two factors. One, as you have already observed, is the colour of the glow. I have record of red glows at the centre of balefire impacts, from intelligence material of Zebra weapon tests, but besides that, lingering radiation generally has a green hue. This one is blue. The second factor is that for the amount of visible glow, the detectable radiation seems far weaker than it should be."

Lemon Frisk nodded. "I see. It's not that weak up close, though. I've been near one of these blue glows."

"That would indicate that away from the source, the radiation rapidly decreases in intensity," TGIF-1 stated.

"I guess," Lemon said.

"So," Misty said, "then maybe we can get close enough to check it out without me getting into the actual danger zone."

Lemon looked at her with a slightly worried look on his face. A moment of silence passed before he spoke.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "I'd rather not take any unnecessary risks."

Misty smiled. "Come now. This whole trip is an unnecessary risk. You knew that from the start."

Lemon nodded. "Fair enough. Better keep some Rad-X ready, though." He checked his pipbuck to make sure the rad meter was on, and they made their way towards the building.

* * *

"Lemon!" Misty yelled. "Are you all right?"

"Teegee!" Lemon Frisk yelled. "You said you had this all planned out!"

"Indeed," the robot said, peering down into the hole Lemon Frisk had fallen into. "It appears the outer walls were not designed to be walked on, though."

"Oh, really?" Lemon grumbled. "So, where am I?"

"There should not be any more of the building there," TGIF-1 said. "When the building collapsed, it must have torn through the street, into the city sewers."

"You know, traditionally," Misty said, hesitantly, "there are always bad things in sewers."

"Reverse jinxing is still jinxing, Misty!" Lemon shouted up at them. "Any ideas on how to get me out of here?"

"You are approximately five point twenty-three meters down," TGIF-1 said. "I imagine you should start with a rope."

"Rope..." Misty said, frowning. "Lemon, do you remember when we decided I would mainly be carrying food and medical supplies?"

Lemon groaned. "I'm carrying the rope, aren't I?" He sighed. "Meaning you can't let down a rope. And I sure can't throw it five meters up. Could you, uh, grab it in your magic if I throw it up as far as I can?"

"Not likely," Misty said. "Never been good at catching moving objects. But I could always—"

A soft chirping noise came from the hole.

"What was that?" Misty whispered, startled.

"I don't know!" Lemon's unnerved whisper came from the pit. "There's something here, that's for sure!"

The chirping returned, louder this time. It didn't sound like a nice chirp. It sounded like the chirp of something hunting in the dark.

Canterlot ghouls were exceptionally strong, but they weren't superbeings. And despite the feral ones' reputation for being horrors lurking in the dark, they did not have any such thing as, for instance, night vision. It wasn't the first time Lemon Frisk really wished he did, though.

The chirping hunter didn't need night vision. It could find its prey perfectly well without it. That was, after all, what the chirping was for.

Lemon heard the sound of large, flapping wings. He frowned. "They sound like vampire fruit bats." His eyes widened. "Oh, shit." He looked up towards the surface. "Misty! Get away from there! They're bloodwings!"

A giant bat emerged from the tunnel, with more following in its wake. Lemon Frisk once read that moments like these happened in slow-motion; that you saw things playing out before you perfectly clearly, but couldn't do a thing to stop them.

As the jumble of bat wings swarmed around him in a dark, confusing mess, Lemon Frisk wondered how many more ridiculous things like that had ever wasted ink and paper. He was bitten a couple of times, but the bats clearly didn't like whatever moonlighted for blood in his system. He frantically swung his hooves around, and managed to hit a few of the bats before they were able to go up through the hole.

Fortunately, it seemed that in the cramped sewers, the large bloodwings didn't hunt in big groups; there were only three of them, and two of those had just been terminally reminded that the price of flight was usually paid in resilience. Less fortunately, the third bat hadn't tried to bite Lemon, but had instead gone straight up, towards the only real prey around.

To TGIF-1, the whole scene did, in fact, play out in slow motion, and aided by a whole array of sensors far better than mere night vision. He saw the threat coming clearly, and tracked the bloodwing's movements as it zipped right past him. His systems also tracked the orange pony, and some subsystem took note of the fact her eyes widened as it dawned on her that the robot made no move whatsoever to actually stop the flying monstrosity.

"Tee—!" she started shouting, but she stopped to throw herself to the side to dodge the bloodwing.

A greyish-red blur shot out at the bat. There was a brief struggle, and then the bloodwing crashed into a wall. Or, the floor, rather, if you took into account the fact the whole building was on its side.

The creature shuddered and went limp. As the large wings sagged and fell down, they revealed the small spider, its fangs still clamped into the bloodwing's throat.

Misty was leaning against the wall (ceiling, technically), trying to get her breathing under control. She looked at the small spider that had saved her life, and the robot who had so clearly not.

"Why didn't you do anything?" Misty asked.

TGIF's visor glowed pale blue. "I was performing the task of tracking your tactical responses," he said. "Does that not qualify?"

"Not if I'm dead, it doesn't!" she yelled, astonished. "Why didn't you help me?"

"That would disrupt the experiment," TGIF-1 said. "If I assist you, I am no longer observing you. I would be observing us."

Misty just gaped at him, completely at a loss for words.

"Misty?" Lemon shouted from below. "Are you all right? What happened?"

The spider finally let go of its prey, and scurried over towards the voice coming from the hole. It angled its body down to look into the abyss, tilted left and then right, and jumped.

"Spider!" Misty quickly shouted, "Don't squash her!"

"Yaah!" came Lemon Frisk's refined and intelligent response from below. "Ugh! It's a good thing I can't get a heart attack!"

Lemon looked at the small spider on the ground in front of him. Or rather, at the four gleams of its large front eyes, which was really all he saw of it in the dark. Then, he noticed something else gleaming. A thin thread, leading up. A smile crept onto his face. "Safety line, huh?"

He grabbed the line in his mouth and tugged on it. It was incredibly thin, but it held. He looked up. "Hey, Misty, can you figure out where the spider attached that thread?"

"I see it. Looks like a blob of web... stuff. True Spidermare style. I don't think you can climb up that, though. It's far too thin."

"I know. I'm knotting the rope onto it. You pull it up, secure it somewhere up there, and then we can work on getting me up there."

Misty looked down the hole. "...You think the spider actually figured that out?"

Lemon looked at the spider. The spider looked back, its four large eyes gleaming in the dark, its face as expressionlessly cute as ever.

* * *

It took them about half an hour, especially without any assistance whatsoever from the chrome robot, but they finally got Lemon Frisk out of the hole.

While Misty recovered from the considerable magical and physical effort on her part, Lemon Frisk glared at TGIF-1. "Why the hell didn't you do anything?"

"As I told Misty Cloud, I do not want to contaminate my data."

"Oh, that's a load of horseapples," Lemon spat. "You told us about the spiders yesterday, and you plotted the route through this building. You already influenced this anyway."

"I did not interfere because I wanted to see how you handled high-risk situations."

"I'll tell you how ponies handle high-risk situations!" Lemon Frisk yelled. "They rely on their friends, or they die!"

"Indeed. But you were stuck down there."

"That's not the point!" Lemon yelled. "If she had died, and I were stuck down there, there wouldn't be much more to observe, would there?"

"There would be your attempts at getting out," TGIF-1 said.

Lemon Frisk gathered every scrap of military discipline he could find in his old memories to prevent himself from attacking the robot. He ground his teeth, still glaring at TGIF-1. "You don't get it, do you? What if it were you, stuck down there? What would you want us to do, then?"

The robot's visor turned white. Lemon Frisk had seen it turn pale blue before, usually when the robot was asking questions or wondering about something, but this was the first time he saw it turn completely white.

TGIF-1 stared down the hole. "Data and scans indicate severe structural damage in the sewer infrastructure," he said, his voice monotone, but somehow softer than usual. "I might never get out."

He turned to Lemon Frisk. "I only just started this experiment," he continued. "If I would find myself stuck in the sewers, I would prefer to get recovered." He looked away from Lemon again, and stared down into the pit, his visor remaining completely white. After a few seconds, he hesitantly stepped back, and his visor returned to its normal blue.

Misty looked on, and frowned. "What was that all about?" she asked.

TGIF-1 looked at her. "It was an uncomfortable simulation," he said. "I dislike feeling restricted."

Misty nodded. "You were scared," she said. "That's what it means, right? The colours?"

"I lack facial expressions," TGIF-1 said. "The visor was designed to reflect my processing state."

"You mean, your emotional state," Misty said.

The robot gave a short nod. "Sufficiently equivalent. Decreased saturation implies lack of data to make decisions, or lack of favourable options. Uncertainty."

"So, let me get this straight," Lemon Frisk said. "Whoever built you didn't just screw up on the orders thing. No... they had to make a robot with emotions who could disregard orders at will, and who apparently has a mild case of claustrophobia, to boot." He shook his head. "Who were these yahoos, anyway?"

TGIF-1 turned his head to nod towards his cutie mark. "I was built by Solaris Incorporated." he said.

Lemon's eye twitched. "...they did more than chemicals?"

TGIF-1 nodded. "Indeed. They were a competitor of Stable-Tec, and branched out into several fields of research, including chemicals, weapons, chemical weapons, music industry, sonic weapons, space exploration, orbital weapons..."

"Right, right," Lemon interrupted, "I get the picture. So they dabbled in everything. And weaponised it." He looked at the logo on TGIF-1's rump. "Odd design. It almost seems to parody Princess Celestia's cutie mark."

"That is not the logo of Solaris Incorporated," the robot pointed out. "It is merely the logo of the robotics research branch. There was some public controversy about the robotics branch logo, but Solaris officials decided not to care."

"Right," Lemon said, shaking his head. "I think I've just about heard enough about them. How the hell did you ever get through testing phase?"

"The tests were interesting," TGIF-1 said.

Lemon Frisk frowned, before his eyes widened in understanding. "They never found out about your orders flaw, because you liked the tests?" He shook his head. "Dear Celestia."

He gave the robot a stern look. "Right. We're going to lay out some base rules here," he said. "In situations where we are all together, and there is danger to any of us, you will help us deal with that danger."

"Why?"

"Take another good look at that hole, and do another simulation of what it'd be like to be stuck down there," Lemon said. He saw TGIF-1's visor flash white for a second. "Good," Lemon continued. "That? That won't be happening if you follow the rules. You help us when we need it, and we'll help you if you need it."

"You could not possibly recover me from down there," TGIF-1 said. "My weight is twice that of an average pony, and I have no prehensile appendages. Not even a mouth."

"Doesn't matter," Lemon Frisk replied. "We'll find a way. If all else fails, we could always leave you there for a while and come back with more ponies." Lemon grinned at Misty. "I'm fairly sure I know some pony in the Stable who would be thrilled to recover him."

Misty chuckled. "Now that's just mean. Were I Teegee, I'd choose the sewers."

"Anyway," Lemon Frisk continued, looking back at TGIF-1, "that's the deal."

"Realistically, there is little you can do to stop me from following you," TGIF-1 said.

Lemon Frisk smirked. "Oh, you're underestimating us, rustbucket." He nodded at Misty. "Even after the effort of gettin' me out of that hole, I'm pretty sure Misty would still be capable of using her magic to shove you right into it. And considering your relationship with magic, there'd be diddly squat you'd be able to do to stop her."

The robot's visor flashed white as he quickly turned to Misty. The mare was looking grim; she hadn't quite gotten over the robot's lack of action when the bloodwing attacked.

"Not to mention," Lemon Frisk continued, "I'm pretty strong, and you're unarmed. I'm fairly sure I could get you in there myself."

The robot's visor momentarily flashed slightly purple. "I am not unarmed!" the robot said, apparently taking offense at the statement. "I have a GAU-3 minigun built into my chassis, and am thus perfectly capable of defending myself!"

Misty frowned "A mini-gun?"

"Misnomer," Lemon Frisk said. "The only thing 'mini' about them is the size of the chunks that remain of their targets." He turned to the robot. "And I'm pretty sure there's no way one can fit inside you. I think you're bluffing."

"I am not bluffing," the robot said, his visor once again nudging slightly into purple.

"So, show it, then?" Lemon asked.

"No."

Lemon raised his eyebrow. "Why not?"

"Visual confirmation is a big psychological trigger with your kind. Under your new rules, you would most likely insist I take it out every time we encounter a threat. I prefer not to."

"Why?"

The visor shifted to purple, and firmly remained there. "Because it is a chore. I need to recalibrate my entire body to compensate for roughly a quarter of my weight being shifted off balance to the left."

"How long does that take?" Lemon asked.

"Zero seconds, since I'm not doing it," the robot said. It was easy for the two ponies to substitute the purple glow on the robot's face with a look of annoyed defiance.

Lemon Frisk sighed. "All right, all right. Anyway, you will follow the rules?"

"Very well. But, hoof-to-hoof only. No minigun."

Lemon Frisk rolled his eyes and smirked. "You drive a hard bargain, rustbucket." He looked ahead at the corridor. "Can you scan for structural weaknesses?"

"I already did that when you fell through," TGIF-1 said. "There are some more weak points in the wall, but no more gaps to the sewers underneath them. Even if you fall through, it would never be more than thirty-four centimeters."

"Wall? You mean the floor," Misty corrected.

TGIF-1 pointed a hoof at the right-side wall. "That is the building's floor." He pointed his hoof down. "That is the building's outer wall."

Misty shook her mane. "Oh, very well. Lead the way."

As they walked on, the spider hopped onto Misty Cloud's back, on top of her barding and saddlebags, and stayed there. Misty gave her a pensive look, and tilted her head.

"I think we should name her."

Lemon shook his head. "Really, Misty?"

"Well, she's sticking around. It's annoying if she doesn't have a name. Then next time I can yell it when she comes jumping at you, and you know it's not just any odd spider." She smiled, and looked at her two companions. "Any suggestions?"

Lemon Frisk stopped and looked at her. "No."

"You, Teegee?" she called to the robot.

TGIF-1 stopped, and a thin blue grid of lasers projected from the centre of his visor scanned over the spider. For a while, he was silent.

"Jolly Jumper," he finally said. He turned back and walked on.

Misty blinked. "Umm... okay?" She threw an unsure look at Lemon Frisk, but his answering look was just as unsure.

"Just roll with it," he said, shaking his head. "I'm done arguing with robots for the day."

* * *

The irradiated mess of metal in front of Lemon Frisk had been created by Solaris Incorporated. That much was clear from the logo printed on one side of it; an alicorn stretched and curved around, with the name "SOLARIS" connecting the tail and the nose to close the circle. At the right side, the bold words "TRY THE ALTERNATIVE" curved alongside the alicorn's wings.

The rest of the thing hadn't survived quite as well as the logo. Lemon Frisk could make out a serial number of some kind under the logo, but besides that, the blue-glowing scrap heap was completely unrecognizable. Well, not completely; Lemon was fairly sure it was the same material as The Shard.

"Well?" Misty shouted from a safe distance. "Anything interesting?"

Lemon Frisk walked back across the plaza. "A clue. Our teal friend and our blue glow appear to be relatives."

"Solaris?"

Lemon Frisk nodded. "Yup. I think I found the real logo Teegee mentioned earlier." He looked up at the sky, slowly moving his head towards the direction in which The Shard would be. "I wonder if this was it..."

Misty tried to follow his gaze, didn't see anything noteworthy in that direction, and gave Lemon a confused look. "Was what?"

"The thing that 'went up'," Lemon said. "This looks similar to The Shard at Dead Farm."

"Wow," Misty said. "Must've gone up quite a bit, to end up there."

"Unless it was meant to go farther," Lemon mused. "A lot farther." He turned to TGIF-1. "You familiar with this?"

The robot's blue laser grid scanned the text in the distance. "Scanned number: 52663913. No database of Solaris components or patents found; no reference material available."

"So, that's a 'no', then," Lemon said, half-asking.

"Indeed. After a mishap with a food generation talisman, I was kept strictly separated from all other Solaris research activities."

"Food generation talisman?" Misty asked.

The robot looked at her. "Grain paste, to be precise. I have nothing more to say on that subject."

"...Right."

Misty opened her saddlebags, and pulled out the Wasteland Survival Guide. "Did we ever check this for mentions of blue glow?"

"Not really," Lemon said. "But I've read through that thing quite a lot of times. I think I'd remember."

Misty smirked at him. "Right. Well, let's do the sensible thing, for once." She floated the book in front of her, and leafed through the pages with her magic. "Well, now," she said, smirking at Lemon. "This mentions several kinds of megaspells were used in different cities... and plenty of them weren't balefire." She stuffed the book back in her saddlebags. "In fact, if I remember correctly, you came from one of them. Pink, right?"

Lemon lifted a hoof and opened his mouth to respond. Then, he blinked, and closed his mouth. "Huh. Right," he finally said. "Pink."

Misty nodded at her saddlebags. "It also said the glow in Fillydelphia is red. Didn't find any mention of blue, though; it focuses mostly on surviving it. Back to square one, then, I guess."

"Well, we have another source of information, here," Lemon said. He turned to TGIF-1. "I know you said you didn't get into contact with any Solaris research, but, do you know anything about any megaspells they might have worked on?"

"You think Solaris did this?" Misty asked, frowning.

"Oh, I certainly do," TGIF-1 responded to Lemon Frisk's question. "I carried one."

The two ponies stared at him, dumbfounded. Lemon was the first to recover. "You... carried a megaspell?"

"Indeed. They took out the minigun for that," the robot said. "I was undecided on whether that was an improvement or not."

Misty nodded. "Infiltration. You were a delivery mechanism."

Lemon gave her a surprised look, and raised his eyebrow.

"What?" Misty responded. "I can be insightful at times!"

Lemon smirked. "Well, my turn." He looked a TGIF-1. "You never delivered it, did you? That's why you were deemed a failure, and were dumped in that factory."

"Indeed," the robot replied.

"So, what hap—" Lemon started, before a mangled growl cut him off.

Misty turned sharply towards the sound, pulled out the shotgun with her magic, and fired. The messy remains of the ghoul's head splattered out in front of her.

She stared at what she just did with a shocked look on her face. Slowly, she turned towards Lemon. "H-has it been a week already?"

Lemon nodded thoughtfully. "Yup. It's been a week already."

"I... I just heard the growl, noticed the red on my EFS, and dropped right into SATS." She frowned. "I honestly didn't think you were serious about that shoot-ponies-in-the-face reflex."

"Welcome to the wastelands," Lemon said, grimly. He looked around the plaza. "This place isn't safe. Too open. Any ghoul wandering around here will spot us."

"And, indeed, I have!" a voice sounded from behind them. For a ghoul, it sounded surprisingly soft and smooth. "Well, well, well. Lemon Frisk! As I live and breathe."

Lemon's eyes widened as he saw the ghoul appearing from the rubble. The newcomer was a ghoul who actually looked his age, and not in terms of decay, per se. His beard, while thinned out by age and decay of the skin that held it to his face, was still rather full, and the lines around his eyes somehow gave Misty flashbacks to warm cosy family gatherings on cold winter nights, despite the fact the Stable had never really had any such thing as seasons. He had a truly grandfatherly look.

"Then again," the ghoul continued with a smile, "you've always had a knack for surviving on luck alone, haven't you?"

Lemon Frisk grinned. "Live and breathe, indeed," he said. "What in Equestria are you doing here?"

Misty gently tapped him on the shoulder, and threw him a questioning and somewhat reprimanding look.

"Ahheh," Lemon said, sheepishly. "Misty, this person here is the illustrious Buoyant Waves, travelling singer and song writer." He looked at the other ghoul. "Waves... this is Misty Cloud." He smiled at Misty. "My... wife."

Buoyant Waves smiled. "Ohh, now isn't that a pleasant surprise? I thought you'd never get into that stuff again!"

"Yeah, well..." Lemon said, "it just sort of, happened, you know?"

Buoyant nodded gravely. "Indeed. These things tend to do that."

"So, what brings you to these parts?" Lemon asked.

"Oh, I know some dogs around here. Great fans of my songs." He grinned. "Probably because of all the ponies dying in it, mind you; some of them hold a bit of a grudge. But, you know... hard to hold a grudge against a dead pony. So they don't mind having me around."

Lemon nodded. "We met one of 'em." He threw an absent-minded look around the plaza. "Why didn't you ever tell me about that?"

"About what?"

"The dogs, here in Whinnyapolis."

Buoyant raised a bushy white eyebrow. "Tell you? Come now, Lemon. You were barely ever around! Sure you came to the Stable when you knew I was there, but you just came for the songs. You never stuck around to socialise. You're just lucky I'm good at remembering names."

He looked around the plaza. "We shouldn't stick around here. There are a lot of ghouls in these houses, and they generally keep to their normal day cycles. For smoothcoats, this place is a lot safer at night."

Misty and Lemon exchanged a surprised glance. "Huh," Misty said. "Not often you hear that."

"Well, and then there's the fact Diamond Dogs are tunnellers," Buoyant said, taking the lead to get them to a safer place. "They can see perfectly well in the dark, and most of them don't tend to come out much in day time." He grinned. "So most nocturnal gnashers were taken care of years ago." He turned around and started walking.

Misty stopped as her rad meter protested. "Uhh... could you stick to safe paths, please?"

"Oh, right," Buoyant Waves said. "I'm sorry, dear. I completely forgot." He frowned and looked around. "Markers, markers..." His face lit up. "Ah! There!" He walked towards a wall and examined it. "Yes... this should lead us right to the Kennel."

Lemon Frisk looked at the scratches in the brick wall, obviously made by diamond dog claws. "Useful. What does it mean?"

"Markers are always twofold," Buoyant Waves explained. "The centre is the route symbol. As you see, this one is three stripes, symbolising a claw."

"I recognise that," Lemon Frisk said. "T.B.'s parents wore that symbol on her funeral."

"Oh, you knew these dogs?" Buoyant waves nodded. "Not surprising, then. It's their clan symbol. Anyway, the circle around it has a line in it, pointing up and to the right. That means, go around this building at the right side, until you see another marker."

Misty looked at the marker circle. "There are more lines on it. What do these mean?"

"The V shape at the bottom is the continuation of the route, but we're going to its origin. The X at the side..." Buoyant nodded at the glowing blue scrap heap, which matched the direction of the symbol. "Well, you were already looking at it. Seems fairly obvious what it means."

"Right," Misty said, nodding. "The Blue Death."

* * *

"So," Misty said to Buoyant Waves as they walked on, using one of the toppled skyscrapers as bridge over a wide chasm in the ground. "You've been here before, then."

The old singer nodded. "Indeed, I have. Is there anything specific you want to know?"

"Oh, no," Misty said. "I actually wanted to ask about the big picture." She glanced at the eight-legged companion sitting snugly on her saddlebags. "Though, now you mention it... do you know what's up with these spiders? They swarmed all over me this night, and this little one, well, she stuck around."

Buoyant Waves gave her a deep, hearty chuckle. "Fascinating creatures, aren't they? They live in symbiosis with the Diamond Dogs of this city. Quite ironically, they act somewhat as, well... guard dogs. One of the reasons the Dogs dislike ponies is because adventurers tend to shoot at anything that has more legs than they have." He smirked. "Which, admittedly, is a sane survival tactic in the rest of the wastelands... but here in Whinnyapolis, things work a little differently. A few decades back, some scavenging parties seriously cut down the spider population. The Dogs fought back. Killed all of 'em. They figured, if no one returns from here, they'll stop coming."

Misty nodded. "Well, that seems to have worked. The ponies around here seem to think this place is completely dead."

"It's a bit of a pity it happened like that... but honestly, ponies and Diamond Dogs never really got along, anyway. Maybe it's for the best."

Misty glanced over at Lemon Frisk, who was looking for a way off at the end of the skyscraper, and wasn't really paying attention to them. "I bet he'd disagree with that. He takes the fate of these Dogs quite personally."

"Yes, I got that impression," Buoyant Waves said, frowning. "Why is that? Just because he knew some of them back in the old days?"

"No. Because he's the one who put them here. Did you know he worked for the Ministry of Morale?"

Buoyant Waves looked at Lemon Frisk. "Huh!" he exclaimed. "Didn't take him for a suitcase spook!"

Lemon's ears perked up at that, and he turned towards the two. "I'll have you know several of these 'suitcase spooks' were very nice ponies," he grumbled. "But, no, I wasn't one of them. Was the kind of pony that usually ended up travellin' surrounded by 'em, though." He sighed, a melancholic look on his face. "It helps to know the ponies behind the suitcases."

Buoyant chuckled. "Fair enough. The Ministry of Morale went kinda off the rocker by the end of the war, though." He glanced at Misty. "Ponies got downright scared o' them. Sure didn't seem to help morale much."

Lemon nodded. "Pinkie went kind of... strange, yeah. And not in a good way. Internally, it was a lot worse, believe me." He looked around, and finally located another marker. "Ah! Down here, through the window. There's..." He blinked, frowned, and turned to his companions. "A rope."

Buoyant gave them an apologetic grin. "Well, it's obviously not created with ponies in mind!"

Misty looked down the window hole, frowning. "I'm getting a whole lot of red markers down there," she said.

Buoyant nodded. "Radroach nests. You can't have a spider population like this without a pretty big food source."

"So, what do we do about 'em?" Lemon Frisk asked.

"Do?" Buoyant asked. "Boy, you got cotton in your ears? Unless they attack, you leave them alone! Spiders gotta get their food somewhere; massacrin' their food supply would be just as bad as killin' the beasties themselves! Not to mention, the Dogs are mostly carnivorous as well! Radroach is good eatin'!"

Lemon Frisk looked down through the open window to the tilted staircase below it. "Huh. This place sure has an interesting ecosystem."

* * *

With a little help from Misty, the four managed to get down to the staircase. Despite being tilted an exact ninety degrees, it wasn't easy to walk on; as it turns out, staircases rarely have nice square blocks as steps, and far more often have their steps sticking out a bit. Which was rather annoying, since the whole building was lying on its side. While TGIF-1 carelessly trotted down, the rest had quite some difficulty managing the obstacle.

"No roaches so far," Lemon whispered.

"Well, they don't exactly have pipbucks telling them we're up here," Buoyant said. "Chances are they're farther down. Let's not disturb them, all right?"

The step Misty was about to step on glowed red, lit by laser beams projected from the projector between TGIF-1's eyes. "Do not step on that one," the robot warned, his voice monotone as usual. "Analysis shows structural integrity of that step is sub-optimal."

Misty frowned, and looked at the robot. "You warned me without incentive," she remarked.

"Analysis also shows that you falling down there would initiate a rescue operation in which chances of getting radroach gunk in my servos would be about eighty-four percent."

Misty stepped over the step, smirking. "As long as you're doing it for the right reasons, I guess."

Lemon stepped over the dangerous part as well, and joined her on the rubble mound at the base of the stairs. "Keeping radroach gunk out of his servos is 'the right reasons', now?" he asked.

Misty started making her way down the rubble. "No," she said, still smirking. "But it means he'd help if I needed rescuing."

* * *

"Hoy!" the Diamond Dog guard shouted at them, pointing an oddly customised shotgun at them. "Votz dis, den?"

The group had travelled through quite a large part of Whinnyapolis, and had come out at the south edge of the city. The place was a mix of lower class housing and industry, but the spot they had come out on was an undeveloped dirt patch. The Dog was guarding what looked like an improvised mine entrance; a tunnel with scrap metal and wood supporting it so it wouldn't collapse. Lemon Frisk recognised Diamond Dog expertise in it; as long as they maintained it, it would last longer than any Stable. He also noticed that it pointed south, away from the city.

"Hoy!" Buoyant Waves shouted back. "Dead pones walking!"

The Dog's frown spread out into a grin. "Dead Pone!" He turned into the cave. "Oy, puppies! Dead Pone Volkin' iz 'ere!" He turned back, and suddenly spotted Misty and TGIF-1. His stance lowered, and he held out an arm to the side to signal the Dogs inside to stay put. "Hoy, Dead Pone. Votz dat, den?" he said with a deep growl in his throat.

"Well," Buoyant Waves started, before glancing at TGIF-1. He turned to Lemon Frisk. "Yeah, what is that?"

"Um." Lemon Frisk looked at the Diamond Dog, the robot, and the other ghoul. He was sorely tempted to blame Misty, but the Dog seemed equally hostile towards living ponies, so that was clearly a really bad idea.

"I prefer 'who' over 'what', actually," TGIF-1 noted.

"Metul pones, dey keel dogz," the guard growled. "Dey vants old trinkets. Dey try steel vater gem. Ve dun let dem."

"He's not a Steel Ranger!" Lemon blurted out. "He's a robot! Like those guards at the factories downtown, only this one is, uhh..." He looked at TGIF-1, and at Misty. "...ours?"

"I'm not!" TGIF-1 interjected. "I am property of a bunch of dead ponies. Which, I assume, would make me property of myself."

"Right, that's it," Lemon Frisk said. He looked at TGIF-1. "Either you stay out here, or you're ours, all right?"

"Would that ownership make you responsible for my actions?" TGIF-1 asked.

Lemon Frisk glared at the robot, grinding his teeth. "The hell it would," he hissed. "You never listen!"

"Social interaction is interesting," TGIF-1 said. "I will follow you."

Lemon Frisk slumped down and turned back to the dog. "The tin can is pretty much indestructible, but he's fairly harmless. Just... don't expect him to be helpful in any way."

The dog eyed TGIF-1 suspiciously. "Him no vunt vater gem?"

Lemon turned his head back towards the robot. "Hey, Teegee. Do you want their water talisman?"

"Those magical trinkets that create moisture?" the robot replied, his visor going pale red, in what was apparently 'disgust'. "No!"

Lemon looked back to the guard and smirked. "He doesn't like magic things."

"Und dot vun?" The dog asked, nodding towards Misty.

"Misty?" Lemon said. "She's my wife!"

"Dead pone und not dead pone?" the Dog said, his eyebrows furrowed. He clearly found that hard to believe.

Lemon sighed. "Look... is there a Dog called Blinker in there somewhere? He knows who I am."

"Und who are yu, den?" the Dog asked, sticking his face out towards Lemon.

"A friend of Top Bitch," Lemon said, without giving an inch.

The guard gave them a conflicted look, looking over all of the members in the odd party. Finally, he settled on Misty, and noticed the spider. "Hm. Jumper tink dem gud ponez," he mumbled, apparently more to himself than to them. He shot one last look to Buoyant Waves, which seemed to warn old ghoul that anything that would go wrong was caused by him leading them there, and then disappeared into the tunnel.

"Hoy, get da plent kid!" they heard him yell. "He's gots guests! He can tek care uf dem!"

After a short wait, Blinker appeared in the entrance. He gave Lemon Frisk a flat stare. "Hy sed, leef Dogz alone. Vhy hyu heer?"

Buoyant waves stepped forward. "Sorry. That would be my fault. This place was the first that came to mind when I thought of a safe haven around here."

"Dead Pone? Hyu know Lemun und Meesty?"

"Just Lemon, actually," Buoyant Waves said. "More or less, anyway. We lived in the same city, before I started travelling."

Blinker nodded, a frown on his face. "Hokay. Hyu come in, den."

* * *

To Misty's surprise, the diamond dog den was nothing like the caves of the Slags, but, in fact, much more like a Stable. Except for the lack of smooth concrete, that is. The walls and roofs were all fortified with metal panels, blocks of broken concrete, wood, plastic, and a multitude of other materials, including, at one point, what looked like a sheet of woven branches. Misty realised the Diamond Dogs had no idea about the specifics of radiation when they built it; they probably just made a larger and more reinforced version of what they normally lived in, designed to withstand the shockwave of a megaspell. And, to their credit, it had.

As they went deeper into the complex, she peeked into some open side doors, and was surprised to find a spider nest. "Huh. They brood here?"

"Leetle vuns iz so fregile," Blinker said. "Dey need de heat."

"So, what do you get out of it?" Misty wondered.

Blinker stopped and, well, blinked. "Vuts? Ve lucky dey's around! Dey great hunters, und spider venom keeps de meat fresh mooch longer!"

"And they just... bring you their kills?" Lemon Frisk asked.

"Ya. Hy tink dey see us as pets," Blinker said as he walked on. "Ve's here fer keepink de leedle vuns varm und safe." He grinned. "Dey tek gud care uf pets."

"Who guards the guard dogs," Lemon Frisk mumbled to himself as he followed Blinker. "An interesting ecosystem, indeed."

* * *

"Well. Here we are, then!" Buoyant Waves said, looking around the large domed room. Misty looked around with wide eyes, studying the construction. It was nowhere near as big as the Stable's atrium, but then again, it wasn't made from reinforced concrete, either.

Lemon smirked as he saw her awed reaction at the feat of Diamond Dog engineering. "If you ever need anything repaired... find a diamond dog to do it," he said. "They are so amazingly resourceful."

"I... see," Misty said. "It's just a bit overwhelming, is all."

"Though unless you want it underground, don't ask them to build you a house," Buoyant Waves added with a chuckle. "They wouldn't see the point."

"Iz same ting," Blinker said, shrugging. "Poniez mek houses higher, iz harder tu mek. Dogz dig denz deeper, und soil iz harder tu dig. Only de flyink ponies, dey haff no problemz. De Elders, dey say dem houses fly." He looked at Lemon. "Hyu seen dem? Before de Great Death?"

"Just... in the distance," Lemon Frisk said. "We earth ponies generally prefer keeping our hooves on the ground." He thought back to Pinkie Pie's GriffinChaser contraptions. "Though there are always exceptions."

An older dog came limping towards the group, leaning on a cane which seemed to have been fashioned out of a piece of rebar bent into a ring at the end. "Hyu dun belief me, Blinker? Damn pup. Hyu dun belief me 'boot de gems none, either." He glared at Lemon Frisk. "Is hyu de Lemun pone fillin' 'is 'ead wif dat junk? Ey?"

Lemon blinked and involuntarily took a step backwards. "I'm Lemon, yeah," he said, looking rather confused.

"Hyu tell de boy ve vas took 'ere cuz of poizun! Hyu no say ve 'ere cuz ponies took our gems!"

Misty gave Lemon Frisk a confused look. "Lemon?"

Lemon Frisk gritted his teeth. "Look. It's... complicated, all right?"

"Not really!" Misty said, sounding rather upset. "You lied to him?"

"I didn't lie to him!" Lemon shouted. "Not really, anyway. I just... glossed over some details."

Misty cocked her head and gave him a level look. "What details, Lemon?"

"Ponies had been mining gems there for years!" Lemon shouted. "They weren't after their gems, because they were already gone!" He glared around at the Dogs that were attracted to the commotion. "The Dogs had been kicked off these lands years before, but they kept coming back. And then, when the whole place is completely stripped of all riches, do they give it back? No! Some idiot at the Ministry of Magic decides to dump lethal toxins in those wonderfully available tunnels! And the Dogs? They still come back, of course! And then," he screamed, daring any of the Dogs to interrupt him, "then they send me in! Because before that, it wasn't enough of a crisis! The Dogs weren't even official citizens! They were just filed under 'monsters', together with the manticores and the hydras and the cockatrices!"

He looked back at the older Dog, who was now seated before him, having decided to let his weary bones rest during Lemon's tirade. "So excuse me if I glossed over some details," Lemon Frisk continued. He motioned a hoof around the room. "I got you this. I got you out of there, and into this city. I knew they would accept you here. Minotaurs, buffaloes, donkeys, even Diamond Dogs, like Top Bitch. A lot of folks besides ponies had signed up for the war, and the bulk of them had done their basic training here, in this city. They were used to seeing other species around. This place was perfect!"

He stared at the ground in front of him, a grim look on his face. "No place was perfect. While the Hellhounds survived in their poisoned tunnels, this city died along with the rest. For two hundred years, I thought I'd killed you all."

The domed room was silent. No one knew how to respond to that; not even Misty. Finally, the old Dog got up, leaning on his piece of rebar. "Bot hyu din't," he said, giving Lemon a piercing look. "Hyu din' save us, yah. Bot hyu gif us a chence. Ve'z here, und ve's not Hellhounds. Ve survive. Und hyu... hyu helped. Hyu din't mek blue deth dot keelz us, hmm?"

Lemon Frisk nodded numbly. "Yeah... I didn't."

"Poniez steal our gemz... poniez poizun our land. Dem poniez is all ded. Bot hyu brought us here. Ve knew, vos friend of Teebee. Ve dunno more. In our past, hyu is jest... dee-tail." He grabbed Lemon's chin and pulled it up, forcing him to look into his eyes. "Dun gloss over dee-tails. Dey'z alvayz importunt."

With that, the old Dog turned away and disappeared into one of the tunnels, leaving a speechless Lemon Frisk standing in the room. Slowly, the surrounding Dogs trickled off as well, seeing as the excitement was clearly over.

After a while, an annoying glare in the corner of Lemon Frisk's eye made the stallion look up. TGIF-1's visor was glowing a vivid green. Lemon Frisk threw him a questioning look. "What?" he asked.

"This conversation stuff is fascinating!" the robot said energetically. "I can't even tell who actually won the argument!"

* * *

Lemon Frisk and Misty sat on one of the many benches that had been gathered in the Great Hall, as the Dogs apparently called the domed room. After they'd dropped off their saddlebags and weapons in a room Blinker had shown them, 'Jolly Jumper' had once again taken her position on Misty's head. All around them, Diamond Dogs were gathering and finding a spot of their own. Misty noticed that quite a lot of them had spiders with them as well. To the spiders, this place was indeed a giant nursery... with excellent guard dogs.

The old Dog who had argued with Lemon Frisk before climbed onto the makeshift stage at the other side of the Great Hall, leaning on his rebar cane. "Ey, dogz!" he yelled, grinning from ear to ear. Lemon and Misty both felt themselves suppressing some ancient pony instinct to get the hell away from that grin. "Ve gots us a beeg guest, today! Ho yus! Hyu all know him! He's Dead Pone Volkin'!"

As the crowd went wild all around them, Misty and Lemon found themselves bludgeoning that old instinct half to death just to manage to remain seated. Screw raiders, screw infinite mirror rooms, screw the big bad wild wasteland. Terror was a concert hall full of Diamond Dogs.

The noise, and the ponies' terror, left suddenly as the old grandfatherly ghoul on the stage opened his mouth. A revered silence filled the hall.

"Hey, Dogs," Buoyant Waves said. "'S been a while, huh? Well. I got you an old classic, to kick this thing off. A song I'd like to call, Ode to the Stable One Medical Droid. Because that poor thing has to put up with us perversions of nature all day." He chuckled. "I'd get pissy too, if I were that droid."

(melody: Build That Wall)
(Listen to Misty's pipbuck recording of the song)

Have we forgotten how to live
Have we forgotten how to cry
There's no use asking all the why

Did we not meet the ferrymare
Did we forget to pay our fare
Or were there just too many there

We took a tomb to build our home and
left its ghosts outside to roam

Have we forgotten how to live
Have we forgotten how to die
We truly breathe only to sigh

A cosy life amongst the dead
Haunting along with those that do
The city's dead, and so are you

We might try feeling like we're more but
living's still an endless chore

Have we forgotten how to live
Have we forgotten how to cry
There's no use asking all the why

Footnote: Level up! Current level: 13.
New Perk: Wasteland Detective (level 2): Long-forgotten mysteries don't stay forgotten much longer when you are around. Of course, simply remembering things might be considered cheating.

Day Thirteen - Life and Unlife Situations

View Online

DAY THIRTEEN
Life and Unlife Situations
death is a mercy not given to all

Lemon Frisk opened his eyes and wondered what time it was. He glanced at his pipbuck and sighed softly; this was becoming a habit. He really needed some kind of clock.

He quietly got up and opened the door. He realised that there was another aspect in which the Diamond Dog den differed from a Stable; the place had no clear night and day cycle. Living and working mostly underground, Dogs were pretty close to nocturnal, and illumination inside the den was always rather minimal.

He looked at Misty. Jolly Jumper once again sat on her head as she slept, but no more spiders had joined her. This wasn't too surprising, since the whole den was rather warm from the collective body heat of the dogs. There were plenty of warm places around that weren't Misty Cloud.

Looking around in the room he spotted TGIF-1 standing in a far corner. The robot seemed to be in some sort of sleep or maintenance mode himself; his visor was dark except for soft blue flickers buzzing through it. Lemon Frisk wondered what equoids dreamt of. Electric bunnies?

He decided that whatever the answer was, he most likely didn't want to know anyway. Instead, he got more curious about the place they were staying in, and decided to see how these Diamond Dogs lived. Hopefully, he'd be back before Misty woke up; he knew she didn't like waking up alone.

* * *

"De sickness gots him," a voice said from one of the side rooms. "Dere'z nuttin' ve kan do."

Lemon stopped in his tracks and looked into the open door. The room behind the doorway was full of cots, lined up along the walls, with dogs on them. Sick dogs. Chills shot through Lemon's body as he remembered one of the things Blinker had said at the graveyard. 'De Sickness dot killz us 'ere'. 'Kills'. He said 'kills', not 'killed'. Still, even after two centuries, the place that these Dogs called home continued to slowly kill them. Despite their technical expertise, they clearly lacked knowledge about the thing they called "the blue death." They identified it by the blue glow... but what about the places where the radiation wasn't strong enough to leave a visible glow? They might travel through them, day after day, without rad-meters, never knowing that it was that place that slowly killed them.

He remembered his own snide remark to Misty. 'Ponies go out in these wastes without a rad meter, they get what's coming to them.' He shuddered. That obviously didn't apply to those who didn't know about rad meters.

He walked inside and looked at the two Dogs standing over one of the cots. One was looking solemn and somewhat grim. The other one was sitting down, leaning over the sick dog on the cot.

"Anything I can do to help?" he asked.

The sitting Dog, a female, looked up. "Pony? Dun tink so. Iz de Blue Deth. Dere's no cure."

Lemon frowned. "You ran out of RadAway?"

"Radawut?" the other dog asked. "Hy dunno vot hyu mean."

Lemon Frisk frowned. "Radiation medicine. You don't know it?"

"Vutz radiayshun?" he asked, clearly confused.

Lemon Frisk's eyes widened. "You... you really don't know?!"

The female jumped up. "Hyu know cure?! Can save my brudder?"

Lemon threw a quick look at the cot and gave a stiff nod. "I'll be right back."

* * *

"INTRUDER DETECTED!" TGIF-1 shouted, his visor flashing red. "STOP RIGHT THERE, YOU CRIMINAL SCU— Oh. Lemon Frisk. Please state reasons for sneaking in here at five 'o clock to rummage through Misty's saddlebags."

Bewildered, Misty looked around. "Hu-whah?"

"RadAway," Lemon Frisk stated. "We need it, now."

"Why?" Misty asked, frowning. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, and realised the answer to her own sleepy question. "Medical emergency?"

"You could say that," Lemon Frisk said, rummaging through one of her saddlebags. "They don't know it exists!"

Misty got up and opened the second bag. "It's over here, Lemon," she said, floating out two of the dimly glowing orange packets. "Go help them already."

Lemon gave a short nod, snatched the bags out of her levitation field with his mouth, and ran off.

* * *

The dogs looked on in disbelief as Lemon fed the potion to the sick Diamond Dog.

"Dot schtuff?" the one who was apparently their doctor said. "Bot... eet glowz!"

"That's because it's a potion," Lemon Frisk explained. "It's magical."

"Ve dun tek glowin' tingz," the other Dog, who was apparently the patient's sister, said. "Glow keelz us. Ve leaf it. Dot reely helpz?"

"If we got enough," Lemon Frisk said. "You've seen these packets before?"

"Ho ya," she said, sitting down beside him. "De spiderz, dem chew tru leedle sacks und drink. Bot spiderz, dem'z no Dogs. Dem's like de roaches. De Blue Deth haz med dem beeg, so hy dunno vot de glow do vit dem. Ve know, de dead pones, dem heal uf de glow. Vit de spiders, ve dunno."

"You've been living with them all the time, though," Lemon pointed out.

"Dem eez frendz!" the doctor protested. "Ve dun test on frends!"

Lemon Frisk frowned. "But why would rad-creatures drink RadAway? That doesn't make any sense." He forced himself to push the information aside; this was not the time to think about these things. He looked at the female Dog. "If you know where you can find more of these packets... go send more Dogs after them!"

Misty walked into the room just as the Dog nodded frantically at Lemon Frisk and ran out.

"I, uh... followed your voice, and brought the rest," she said, nodding at her saddlebags. "Did you just order a Diamond Dog around?"

Lemon gave her a confused look. "What?"

Misty shook her head and smiled, while floating out another bag of RadAway to give to the sick Dog. "You're doing it again, Lemon."

"I'm just helping," he said, an unsure look on his face.

"No, Lemon. You never 'just help'." She smirked. "You're a crisis manager. You see a crisis, and you take command."

"Discord's multi-coloured balls," Lemon Frisk grumbled. "Next thing you're gonna say these guys will want me as leader too."

"Well, they do seem to work with a system of elders," Misty said, unable to suppress a grin. "I suspect you got the required seniority."

"Him'z no Dog," the doctor pointed out. "Kennel elderz iz alvays Dogs."

"She's just teasing," Lemon Frisk mumbled.

The dog lying on the cot groaned. The doctor immediately got down next to the cot. "Rufus! Hyu hokay?"

The Dog gave them a weak grin. "Hy'd vote fer 'im."

* * *

"So," Misty said. "This is what it's like to be you, huh?"

Lemon gave her a confused frown. "What? Me?"

"Waking up at Celestia-forsaken hours and just taking a walk," Misty clarified. She stifled a yawn.

Lemon smiled. "This place is calmer than I expected, at night. Though I guess that being nocturnal means they're mostly outside now. The night is just about ending, though. I think we're right on time to catch the sunrise."

"Bah," Misty said. "There hasn't been a single gap in the clouds since we came here."

"I guess it's because we're farther from Canterlot," Lemon said with a nod. "The pegasi might not want to get their hooves into whatever seeps up from that place."

Misty shook her mane. "I guess. That pink cloud sounds really awful." She suddenly stopped, sniffed, and pointed her nose into the air. "Hmm," she said, sniffing the air. "Something smells good, here."

Lemon sniffed. "Smells like cooking."

Misty nodded as she followed the smell. They ended up in one of the side rooms of the common room. Misty peeked inside and blinked.

"Uh... what are those things?" Misty asked, pointing at the thick brown tubes lying on the grill.

"Roach leg," the Dog behind the grill said. "Brekfust. Hyu vonts vun?"

Misty just stared with a confused expression on her face. Lemon raised his eyebrow at her, and finally nudged her. "Yo. Dog asked you a question, Misty."

"But... that's meat!" she said, giving the grilled radroach legs a somewhat amazed look. She turned to Lemon. "Why does that smell so good?"

Lemon grinned. "It's grilled. I guess that helps."

"Yeeah, but we're herbivores, Lemon."

"Well, I'm not. I don't really eat at all. And, judging by my less sane colleagues..."

Misty rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean."

"It's all relative, Misty," Lemon said. "I know plenty of ponies in the olden days who enjoyed eating fish." He stared out in front of him. "I wonder if that still exists, out there."

"Sure," Misty said, grinning. "It'll just have a couple of extra eyes, big nasty teeth, and if you're really unlucky, an armoured hide or something."

"Hyu gun tek a leg or not?" the Diamond Dog asked somewhat impatiently. They noticed that behind them more Dogs were waiting. It seemed they were blocking the breakfast queue.

Misty took a deep breath. "Ah, this just smells too good," she said. "I'll take one." She snatched up the radroach leg in her magic and walked out.

The pair found a table in the common room, which was slowly filling with more Diamond Dogs getting their own breakfasts. Misty poked at the leg with a hoof, and was rewarded with a dull tick.

"Right. Exoskeleton. Guess I'll have to... crack it open," she said. She turned to Lemon, half-laughing. "I still can't believe I'm actually doing this. I mean, that's a radroach!"

Lemon laughed. "Well, as long as you take some rad-away afterw—" He stopped abruptly, his eyes widening. "That's it!"

Misty looked up from the leg. "What?"

"The Rad-Away!" he said, staring at the leg. "Blinker said the spiders' venom keeps the meat fresh much longer." He turned to Misty. "But that's not all it does!"

"How so?" Misty asked, visibly confused.

"The mare, uh, bi-, eh, female at the infirmary said the spiders find and drink Rad-Away!"

Misty gave him an incredulous look. "You think they... incorporate Rad-Away into their venom?"

"Test it," Lemon said, nodding at Misty's pipbuck.

Misty looked at the pipbuck screen and made the device scan the leg. She turned to Lemon. "You're right. No radiation at all. This is completely safe to eat."

Lemon Frisk smirked. "Probably still contains trace amounts of Rad-Away, too. They take very good care of their pets."

"Right. Anyway!" Misty said. "We've determined it's safe to eat." She let her hoof come down hard on the leg, shattering a piece of its protective shell. "So," she continued, while using her magic to pick the shards of chitin out of the exposed radroach meat, "let's see if it tastes as good as it smells!"

She used one of the larger chitin shards to scoop a piece of the tissue out of the exposed leg, and floated the piece into her mouth. As she chewed, her facial expression went from slightly taken aback to pensive to approving. She swallowed. "Yup," she said. "Not bad. Odd texture."

"I guess it'd be a bit like lobster," Lemon said. "I ate that a couple of times, back in the day."

Misty chuckled. "I've seen those on pictures. Don't even want to imagine what they would look like, now."

As Misty continued her breakfast, the Diamond Dog elder walked towards their table, once again leaning on his rebar cane. Lemon Frisk idly wondered whether he actually leaned on that thing, or if dragging it around was some kind of power training. That thing looked heavy.

The old Dog threw Lemon Frisk a suspicious look. "Hyu say, orange gloween stoff ees gud?"

Lemon couldn't resist smirking. "Hey, now. I never said that. Most ponies I've met say it tastes awful!"

The Dog gave him a flat look and raised his cane. "Dun mek me use dis."

"Right, right," Lemon said. "It's medicine against radiation, yes. It was made to heal the sickness caused by the green glow. And from what I've seen on the guy in the infirmary, it works just as well on the Blue Death you guys got here."

The Elder looked intrigued, now. "Eet wurk on all uf dem?" he asked.

"Well, won't do much against the pink cloud of Canterlot... and Celestia only knows what that Taint stuff really is. But against the glows... yeah, probably. Though, you guys really need rad detectors."

"Hyu fancy tek-shtuff kan find de... 'radiayshun'?" the Elder said, testing out the new word. He looked at the ponies' pipbucks.

"Yeah, but I don't think it's worth taking these apart," Lemon said, absentmindedly looking at his pipbuck. "I'm sure you can get the actual plans from the Stable."

Misty smirked. "You really are doing it again."

"Doing what again?" Lemon said, before he realised what he'd just suggested to the Dog. "Oh."

"Hayden, Dead Farm, Stable sixty-nine, and now the Kennel," Misty summed up with a grin. "Gotta collect them all?"

"Hey!" Lemon Frisk shouted at her, his eyes narrowing to slits. "You make it sound like I'm conquering the place!"

"You conquered the Stable," Misty threw back playfully.

"That implies I wanted it in the first place," Lemon said, sulking.

"De cog vheel hole?" the Elder deduced. "Hyu iz from dere?"

Lemon shook his head. "No. They just want me to solve their problems." He blinked. "Like I did for Hayden and the Slags," he grumbled, letting his head sag down, "and now for you guys." His chin hit the table. He turned his head slightly towards Misty without lifting it. "I hate you, you know that?"

Misty kissed his forehead. "No you don't." She turned towards the Diamond Dog elder. "I'm sorry, but we were never really properly introduced. What is your name?"

The Dog grinned. "Rex."

Misty returned the grin with an uncomfortable smile of her own. "Nice to meet you, Rex. I'm Misty Cloud."

"Meesty, yes. Blinker sed," Rex said. "Cloud, hm? Dot'z no gud ting ta use as nem."

"Heh," Lemon said. "Yeah, that is a bit depressing, actually."

Misty rolled her eyes. "Look, I got that name a couple of decades before the Stable opened. It's not like we even knew about the cloud cover."

"So hyu is from de cog vheel door, hmm?"

Misty nodded. "Yes. And... I guess we should really go back there."

"Homesick already?" Lemon asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Not really. But the way we left was rather... unfair towards Apple Twig, you know. Everything got kind of dumped in her saddle."

"Right," Lemon said, giving her a bemused look. "But only because they tried to dump it on me, remember?"

Misty frowned. "Well. Point."

"It's just... this city's destruction, it bothers me," Lemon Frisk said. "The wreckage we found seems to point to Solaris, but I don't want to jump to conclusions. I want to get to the bottom of this."

Misty sighed. "All right, all right. So, where to next?"

"I don't know," Lemon said. He smirked. "But we know someone who does, don't we?"

* * *

"Request for information denied!" TGIF-1 said, his visor a very pale blue. "Lack of mental health databases does not prevent me from concluding your sanity is completely corrupted."

"I just want the location," Lemon Frisk said. "I'm not even askin' you to come with us."

"Your rules state I must help you whenever you are in danger," TGIF-1 said. "Right now, you are in severe danger of going into a Solaris Inc. facility. The best course of action to help you is to not give you its location."

Lemon glared at the robot. "That's not helpful at all."

"Indeed," TGIF-1 said. "But it will save your lives."

"Is the place really that bad?" Misty asked.

"That information is classified," TGIF-1 replied.

Lemon turned away from the robot. "Then we're going to the military facility," he said, grabbing his saddlebags. "They have a radar system there. Perhaps it'll contain logs of something they picked up before the city blew up."

TGIF-1's visor changed to a less pale blue. "You wish to determine the origin of the projectile that destroyed the city, correct?" he asked.

"Yeah," Lemon said, giving the robot a somewhat annoyed look. "What about it?"

"I monitored that projectile as it gained altitude. According to my trajectory tracking, it came from the military facility."

"Discord's bushy eyebrows," Lemon mumbled to himself. "Guess that rumour was correct after all."

"What rumour?" Misty asked.

"There was a large restricted part to the facility. Top secret stuff. It was completely fenced in, and surrounded by trees inside the fence so no one ever really saw what was in there. Rumours about the place ranged from super-secret R&D to missile silos to even a military Stable."

Misty tilted her head. "Why would the military launch Solaris' missile?"

"Simple," Lemon replied. "Solaris built it for them. Whether this was a botched launch or some kind of sabotage... they probably intended to launch that missile at the Zebras."

"It is in your best interest that I accompany you," TGIF-1 stated.

Lemon gave him a puzzled look. "Okay. How do you figure?"

"If Solaris supplied them, you are very likely to discover the location of the Solaris facility there, and will insist on going there."

"I thought you didn't want us to go there?"

"I don't want to go there," TGIF-1 said, his visor pale blue. "But if you insist on going there, I will have to come along to keep you alive. You are still interesting to me."

"So, the place isn't safe, then," Lemon Frisk said.

"I cannot respond to that request." TGIF-1 said. At the odd looks he got from the ponies, the robot continued. "Elaborating. I will accompany you to get around a conflict in my programming. Information surrounding the facility's security is classified, so I cannot keep you safe by informing you about it; I cannot order myself to divulge it to ponies lacking the required clearance." His visor turned teal. "However, these systems do not prevent me from destroying the classified security measures myself."

"That's pretty contrived," Misty said. "I thought you had no restrictions at all."

"I contain a multitude of classified documents, including my own construction specifications," TGIF-1 replied. "If I had no restrictions at all, I would not have been left behind to guard one of Solaris' low-profile factories. I would have been put in an armoured crate in a Solaris vault."

* * *

Getting up early seemed to have thrown quite a wrench in Lemon Frisk's plans. Instead of leaving at the crack of dawn, he ended up giving lectures to a bunch of diamond dogs about radiation and radiation medicine. It was nearing noon by the time Lemon, Misty and TGIF-1 stood in front of the Kennel's entrance, all packed and ready to go. Jolly once again sat snugly between Misty's saddlebags.

Buoyant Waves, who was staying with the Dogs a bit longer, had come out to say goodbye. He was accompanied by Blinker and Elder Rex.

"I honestly had no idea, about the RadAway," Buoyant said. "I never really explored the place, you know; the Dogs like their privacy."

"I'm not blaming you," Lemon said. "Diamond Dogs generally dislike showing weakness. Illness is part of that; I've had trouble enough getting them to go through a standard medical exam when they arrived here, and that was when they came from a confirmed contaminated area. Well, and I doubt you'd have had any RadAway on you anyway."

Buoyant Waves gave him a sad smile. "True enough. So, what are you going to do now?"

Lemon looked towards the centre of the city and the blue glow on its leaning skyscrapers. "I'm going to find out what happened here."

"Votz dot gunna help?" Rex asked. "Vun't fix de Blue Deth, ja?"

Lemon nodded. "Sure, but..." He shook his head and looked at the city once more. "There are too many things that don't make sense in all this. The Stable got a bomb alarm hours before the impact. The city was destroyed by something fired by the military base. And then there's the blue glow itself." He looked Rex in the eyes. "It doesn't matter whether it helps the city or not. It'll help me, to know what happened here."

Misty gave him a hug. "Well. I suppose it's a positive evolution that you're doing something for yourself, for a change." She grinned as she let go of him. "That'll be fifty bits, then."

"Dang. Left all my money at home," Lemon said, grinning back. "I'll have to pay you some other way."

Misty thumped her head at his shoulder. "You're lucky I don't charge extra for that."

"Right," Lemon said, chuckling. "That'll ever happen."

Their conversation was interrupted by TGIF-1. "My interaction linking system cannot find any context for the given statements," he said, his visor pale blue. "I require explanation."

Misty burst out laughing. Buoyant Waves facehoofed. Elder Rex just sat there, grinning. Blinker rolled his eyes.

"We'll tell you when you're older," Lemon said with a smile.

"Checking input for sense... no sense found," the robot replied. "I have been operational for two hundred and one years, three months, ten d—"

"Anyway," Lemon Frisk interrupted. He bowed his head to Elder Rex. "Thank you and your people for your hospitality. I will make sure a party is sent out to you from the Stable as soon as we get back there, to get you the plans for the rad detectors. Or, you could just send out some Dogs yourself, though then I can't really guarantee their safety. The new head of security is awfully twitchy."

Misty rolled her eyes. "Mostly just towards ghouls, though."

Lemon Frisk nodded. "Right," he said to Misty. He turned back to Rex. "Not my fault, by the way. Anyway, if you manage to make it clear to them that we sent you, I doubt they'd give you much trouble. Though, you might have to trade to get anything from them."

"Ees easier hy jest go vit hyu," Blinker said. "Hy gots ta tek care uff Teebee's grave, anyvay. Hyu iz going to de base. Gun' trevel vit hyu fer a vhile, den go with hyu to cog vheel hole."

Lemon smiled. "Well. We might make some detours before we get there. Not gonna lie, it's going to be dangerous. But if you're sure..."

"Hy em," Blinker said. "Vill help all Dogs. Hy vill help hyu, und den go to cog vheel hole."

"Well then, welcome to this ridiculous little family!" Lemon Frisk finished. He looked at Misty Cloud. "Not a radigator! I'm surprised!"

"We're just travelling with him, Lemon," Misty said with a smirk. "I'm not adopting him."

"That's what you said about the robot," Lemon threw back. "And the spider."

TGIF looked at the two, his visor slightly purple. "Listening to you two is rerouting several of my neural paths in strange and unpredictable directions."

Lemon just smirked. "Good. That means you're learning."

* * *

Misty Cloud looked at the building where they'd met Petal Luck. She sighed and threw the place a sad look. "Here we are again," she said.

Lemon Frisk nodded. "Yup." He looked at the two other members of their team. "Teegee, scan for, uh, anything really. Hostiles, friendlies, active electronics, whatever. Blinker, I assume you're going to the graveyard?"

"Ja," the Diamond Dog replied. "Hy never come in dis vay; vos volkin ded pone 'ere guardin it. Din' look like a biter, but vern't very frendly, so hy leef 'im alone und go around beck."

Misty nodded. "We met him." She threw a glance at Lemon with a painful expression on her face. "He's... gone, now."

Lemon nuzzled her cheek. "Shh. It's all right, Misty. Remember, it was his own choice."

"Hyu know guardpone?" Blinker asked.

Misty looked at the Dog and nodded. "Ancestor," she said quietly.

The Dog's eyes widened. "Hyu... great-gran-gran-daddy iz... gool?" He frowned and looked aside, clearly wondering how he'd feel about having a ghoulified ancestor still walking around.

"Was," Misty replied.

The dog looked at her intently, and then gave a short nod. "Tek gud care uff 'iz grave." With that, he turned around and walked off towards the graveyard.

Lemon Frisk looked at the large radar dish on one of the buildings. "Well. I guess that'll be our first destination."

* * *

There were no bodies lying around in the building labelled "Tactical Ops". Either the people inside had just fled, or they were among the bodies Petal Luck had brought to the morgue when he'd found them. Lemon Frisk suspected the former, though; unlike the building where Petal Luck had kept his records, this place was practically free of radiation. At the centre of the building was a room with no windows, but with an abundance of monitors to make up for it. All of them were black, except for one at the side which had been casting its ghostly green glow into the room for the past two centuries.

The eerie silence of these two centuries was broken by a frustrated groan as Misty reset the terminal for the fourth time.

"Augh! There's nothing useful in the mem dump!" She pointed at the monitor standing on the desk. "Look at this mess!"

Lemon Frisk, who was nosing around in the drawers of the desk, chuckled. "What, you honestly thought that the ability to hack into your dad's diary would get you through a military password? I think this is slightly out of your league, Misty."

Misty sat on her rump and crossed her forehooves. "Bah." She looked at Lemon. "Uhh, what are you doing?"

Lemon ducked his head under the desk and picked up a piece of paper with a strip of tape over it that was lying on the floor. "I'm doing more traditional detective work." He put the paper on the desk. The text written on the paper had faded away decades ago, except on the area where the tape had been put over it. "You have to remember, Misty," he said, "that while military security might be tough, ponies are still ponies." He peered at the paper, and made out the few still-readable characters. "R, C, percentage, exclamation mark, L. You see anything like that?"

Misty scanned over the terminal again. "ARC%!LIGHT-15. That's the password? Who comes up with that?" She closed the memory dump and typed it in. The terminal unlocked. "Huh."

"Military," Lemon said. "So what's in there?"

"History... scans... threat detections. There's some items in there."

"Let's see it."

Misty opened the first item in the 'threat detections', and a map of Equestria was drawn on the monitor. On it, the trajectories of three projectiles were drawn. They appeared to be headed for Canterlot, but the trajectory of one of the three nudged slightly to the south. The projected path let it pass by Canterlot, and towards Whinnyapolis.

"Huh," Lemon said, looking at the map. "Looks like we found the cause for the initial evacuation alarm." Below the map, the text "TRAJECTORY UPDATE DETECTED" blinked at them. "So, what's that, then?"

Misty opened it. The paths of all three projectiles ended abruptly above Whitetail Woods.

Lemon Frisk raised his single eyebrow. "They were... intercepted?"

"Well, that explains why nothing happened after the alarm," Misty said.

Lemon closed the map and went back to the index of all logs. "And here's the rest." Below the detections, the log contained the three words that had doomed the city.

"RETALIATION STRIKE APPROVED"

He sighed and shook his head. "So, that's where it went wrong, I guess. Those idiots. They blew it up themselves. One of the few cities to survive, and..." He sighed again, and scrolled down. The rest of the log contained pretty much what he'd expected: preparations of a missile launch, a fire alarm in the missile silo, a trajectory deviation right after launching, several radiation detection warnings, and the automatically logged trajectory paths of several detected large pieces of debris. Lemon didn't even have to open them to know that one of those had ended up in Dead Farm. He turned away from the monitor.

Misty plugged her pipbuck into the terminal and downloaded all of the logs. After she was finished she idly browsed through some of the other data on the console. One of the items made a diagram appear. "Lemon?" she called out, looking at the image on the monitor.

Lemon Frisk looked up and saw her looking at the schematics of a rocket.

"This... isn't right," Misty said. "I mean, I'm no rocket scientist, but as far as I know, a payload rocket is normally, eh, warhead at the top, fuel tank in the middle, and propulsion at the bottom, right?"

Lemon looked at the schematic and nodded. "More or less, yeah. That's what it says, no?"

Misty shook her head, and tapped a few keys. Icons appeared on the schematic, along with a legend at the side. "No, see," she said. "The top is a megaspell, but below that, it goes all... strange. The tank in the middle is indicated as water tank... and at the bottom is another megaspell."

Lemon Frisk frowned. "Seriously?"

Misty moved away from the monitor to allow Lemon to get closer. He studied the legend, shook his head and looked at Misty. "That would mean..."

Misty nodded. "They used a megaspell as propulsion system."

Lemon peered at the finer details on the screen and noticed tubes leading from the water tank to the lower megaspell. "And it seemed that one is somehow... water-driven, or water-cooled, or something." He looked at Misty. "That's just plain bizarre! Who would design something like that?"

Misty pointed at the alicorn logo beside the schematic. "You need to ask?"

As if on cue, TGIF-1 started talking. "TPR-336805-N1," he said, looking at the monitor from the door at the other end of the room, where he was standing guard.

Lemon threw him a confused look and peered closely at the small text next to the warhead at the top of the rocket. Somehow, the robot had managed to read that from across the room.

"That is a serial number I do recognise," the robot continued. "It is the megaspell I carried inside me."

Lemon Frisk threw an angry look at the robot. "That means... the reason they launched this thing was because you didn't deliver it!"

"Possibly," the robot replied impassively.

Lemon galloped towards TGIF-1 and growled in his face. "What was it, then?" he yelled. "What was so damn important to you that you didn't detonate your payload?!"

The robot leaned into Lemon's face, his metal nose pressing down on the ghoul's. "It would remove the basis of all my research. Three months of pattern scans and design of similarity-calculation algorithms, invalidated!" The robot's visor blazed purple, and the frustration was even audible in his generated voice. "Of course I could not detonate that bomb!"

"P-pattern scans? Similarity?" Lemon Frisk's eyes widened in disbelief. "You're talking about—"

"—posterior zebra stripes," the robot finished. "They are intriguing! Did you know that in ancient herd times, foals recognised their mothers purely by their—"

"—butts?!" Lemon yelled back. "This city blew up because you found it necessary to waste three months scanning zebra butts?!"

"And the variations thereof within families." TGIF-1's visor glowed green. "My database contains twenty thousand five hundred eighteen scans, and all their family relations! Detonating that bomb would invalidate the source of all of that data!"

Misty put a hoof over Lemon's back. "Hey... calm down. It's not his fault, okay? All he did was not blow up a city. He couldn't know what they'd do with that bomb!"

Lemon threw her a desperate look. "Zebra. Butts," he said, numbly.

"Yes, I bet some ponies would pay a lot of caps for that database," Misty said, smirking. "Still, not the robot's fault."

Lemon blinked. "What?"

"You said it yourself," Misty said. "They're quite exotic."

"You can't be serious! Am I the only one who is severely disturbed by the fact this city apparently died to make a database of twenty thousand pictures of zebra erotica?!"

"This is not erotica!" TGIF-1 complained. "This is science!"

"Look," Misty said, "I know this must be different for you, but really, for me, this is just a funny anecdote of two hundred years ago! It's the past, Lemon. Don't blame the robot. For all we know, they could just have made another megaspell if he had detonated that one."

Lemon Frisk shook his head. "It's more than that, Misty. A megaspell strike against the zebras months before the final calamity could've changed the war completely." He looked at TGIF-1. "What was the target?"

"The capital city," the robot replied.

"Dammit," Lemon said, turning away. "That might've ended the war!" he said, angrily. He turned at Misty, and continued. "And don't give me that horse shit about not blowing up a city. I was there in the M.W.T. hub when they transmitted the retaliation strike command to Tenpony Tower, just before we went into the Stable. They apparently had a megapell based on focused solar beams. The whole place is blackened glass."

TGIF-1's visor shifted to a pale orange. "It was destroyed?" he asked softly.

Lemon looked at him. "Yes. All of it. Do you think this place was the only one prepared to launch a counterattack? There were dozens. There's nothing left of that city but irradiated slag."

"My research has been invalidated," TGIF-1 said softly. His visor shifted to a pale orange, blazing with near-blinding brightness. "I need more information!" the robot said loudly. "There must be something left to salvage! Some may have escaped and reproduced. I will adapt my pattern recognition algorithms to account for a two hundred year period of mutation and recombination with unscanned patterns! Do you know any zebras I can access!?"

"Teegee, stop," Misty said, calmly walking towards him.

"NO!" The robot's blazing visor flashed red, before fading down to orange, and slowly to full yellow. He lowered his head. "I must salvage my research," he repeated softly. "There must be something left. I have all the names, all the patterns, even DNA scans of thirty-two point six percent of them." He looked up at Misty. "Help me salvage it. You living ponies are geniuses. You made creations like me. You must be able to do things my processors can't do."

"Shh," Misty said. She grabbed the robot pony in a hug. "They're gone, Teegee. There's nothing we can do about that. I'm sorry."

"Gone..." the robot said softly. The light in his visor faded. "Gone," he repeated, his vocal volume fading with the brightness of his visor. "Gone," came the barely audible whisper, as the light from the robot's face faded to black.

Surprised, Misty stepped back from him, and the two ponies silently looked on, tensely waiting for some sign of life from the robot. For about twenty strained seconds, nothing happened. Then, a dull flicker of blue, barely visible even in the dark room, flashed through the black visor.

Lemon Frisk let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding. "He's fine. Probably." He looked at Misty. "These blue flashes in his eyes, I've seen the same thing this morning. It must be some kind of maintenance mode." He softly shook his head. "I guess he has a lot to process."

"I hope he'll be all right," Misty said.

"Misty," Lemon said with a sigh. "Think about this professionally. Analyse what we just saw."

Misty frowned and looked at the robot. Her eyes widened. "No. Really?"

Lemon nodded. "Really. I'm not even a psychologist, but I know that. Intimately."

Misty nodded as she went over what she saw. "Denial... a brief flash of anger... bargaining... and finally shutting down to maintenance mode. Damn. He just blazed through the first three stages of grief."

"Yup. And I don't think we're getting through to him in this state. He'll have to process this alone."

Misty frowned. "No one should go through depression alone, Lemon. You should know that."

Lemon gave her a dry look. "Do I need to remind you that he's not, in fact, mourning the population of the zebra capital city, but only their relevance to his butt stripe research?"

Misty chuckled. "Okay. Point. But look at it from his point of view. That's his life's work down the drain, Lemon. Probably the only thing he ever did that he was really proud of. And it was actually useful scientific research. Or, it would've been, in times of peace."

"Ugh," Lemon said, glancing at the immobile robot. "I guess you're right."

He walked towards TGIF-1 and rapped on the robot's head with his hoof. "Hey. Dunno if you can hear me in there, but... we met a community of half-zebras on the way. Descended from war prisoners. Not sure if they even have stripes on their back ends, though. But I guess if there's anything left to scan, and any of the original prisoners came from the zebra capital, you might still match them, somehow."

Lemon stepped back and waited. There was no reaction from the robot; not even an increase in the dim flashes in his visor. Lemon shook his head. "Come on, Misty. Let's go check out that missile silo."

Misty threw the robot an unsure look and gave him a quick nuzzle before she followed Lemon Frisk out of the room.

* * *

As they approached the fenced area where the missile silo should be, they heard gunshots. They quickly took cover and looked at the source of the commotion. Two ponies in fully enclosed power armour and a cloaked unicorn ran out towards them.

"Shit," Lemon hissed. "Steel rangers. Keep your head down."

The two in power armour galloped past them without looking, but the cloaked pony, whose field of vision was probably not as constricted, spotted them as he ran past. "Tribals!" he yelled at the two in front. "Secure them!"

The two armoured rangers immediately stopped and turned around, and Misty and Lemon found themselves trapped between the fence and the two pony-shaped tanks.

"Don't move," the cloaked pony said. He pulled off his hood with a soft red glow of magic, revealing his black coat and bright red mane. He glanced at the pipbucks on the two ponies' legs and smirked. "So. A Stable pony and a canterlot ghoul. That's two strokes of luck at once."

He looked at Lemon Frisk, still retaining the insufferable smirk on his face, and floated up a heavy gun in his magic. He aimed it at Misty Cloud's head.

"You guys are supposed to be practically indestructible..." he said, aiming at Misty but looking at Lemon Frisk. "But, lucky for us, your travelling companion isn't. So no funny business, ghoul, or she gets it."

Lemon glanced at Misty, and noticed that the spider on her back had kept herself remarkably quiet. Jolly Jumper seemed to have quietly scooted closer to Misty's neck, where her brick-and-grey colours blended in surprisingly well on the orange mare's coat colour.

Lemon looked at the steel ranger and narrowed his eyes. "My name is Lemon Frisk. I'm a crisis manager for the Ministry of Morale. This gives me an honorary rank of Master Sergeant."

"I am Overseer-Chaplain Donut Steel," the unicorn replied smoothly. "And I don't give a flying fuck about your old-world job or rank."

"What do you want, then?"

"Oh, I want that pretty bracelet your girlfriend is wearing. We heard rumours about a Stable around here opening, and I'm betting her pipbuck can tell us everything we need to know." Donut Steel grinned. "But guess what... when scouting around this area, we found something that might be even more interesting than a Stable. An actual wartime missile silo." The smile disappeared. "Just one problem. We can't get in, and the security measures of that place just perforated poor Private Strawberry Suit. You, though... I've seen a couple of you. Blow 'em apart, they knit themselves back together. Fucking creepy, but just what we need." He turned slightly towards one of the other Rangers, without moving the gun aimed at Misty's head. "Hey, Bacon Mail. Give me the charges."

The armoured Ranger nodded, and two packets ejected from the suit's ammo containers. Donut floated them up in his magic and deposited them at Lemon Frisk's feet. "So, here's what we're going to do. You're going down there," he said, nodding at the bunkers visible beyond the charred tree stumps behind the fence, "and wait until the voice identification runs out of patience. A turret will pop up, protected by an armoured crate around it, which will only open for a second while it fires. You use that second to throw these packets in there, and then we detonate them while you, well, knit yourself back together, I guess." Again, that insufferable smirk appeared. "And if you don't... we'll splatter this pretty lady's brains all over the ground. We only need her pipbuck."

Lemon Frisk glared at the unicorn. This wasn't a negotiation; this was a hostage situation. He glanced at the building behind him. Just as he turned back to the smug unicorn, he registered something in the corner of his eye, and did a double take. His eyes widened as he looked at the bunker again, and a grin appeared on his face.

Misty frowned. She knew that grin. It was the grin he had before doing something crazy and amazing. He had a plan, and he didn't care one bit that the Ranger knew.

"All righty," Lemon Frisk said. "I'll do it. But, you harm her, and you'll be on the first row to see how 'fucking creepy' a Canterlot ghoul can be if he's not brain dead, and he's after you." Still grinning madly, he turned his gaze at the two armoured rangers. "And don't think for a second those tin cans will make any difference." One of them involuntarily took a step back; Lemon's grin was one to rival that of old Rex in the Kennel.

Donut Steel gave him a wary glare. "No funny business."

"Oh, shut the hell up," Lemon Frisk said, still grinning. He grabbed the two packets in his mouth and walked off to the place where the third suit of steel ranger armour was bleeding out, next to a wide ramp leading down into the bunker.

He walked down to the bottom of the ramp, out of the remaining rangers' sight. At the top of the door, in the small piece sticking out that was visible from where they'd been standing, a smudge of pink was still visible through the scorch marks left behind by the steel rangers' futile attempts to force their way through. Now he was closer his suspicions were confirmed: inside the pink smudge, he could distinguish three round shapes. Two of them blue, and one yellow.

"Unauthorised access detected," a mechanical voice crackled from the turrets' speakers. "No ID cards found. Provide voice print identification or leave the premises within sixty seconds."

Lemon Frisk dropped the explosives on the ground. "I'm Lemon Frisk."

"Please start your identification with name and rank. You now have fifty seconds to leave the premises."

Lemon suppressed a sigh. "Lemon Frisk, Ministry of Morale Crisis Manager, Master Sergeant, acting commander of Whinnyapolis operations."

A harsh crackle blasted through the speakers. A voice he was very familiar with from his old job replaced the previous one. "Ministry of Morale identification requested! Processing!" Pinkie Pie's voice piped up with an exaggerated bombastic officiality. "Younowhave, fourtyseconds, toleavethepremises," she added.

Lemon Frisk grinned. "Bingo."

"Still processing!" the Pinkie Pie voice said once again. "Younowhave, thirtyseconds, toleavethepremises."

Lemon groaned. "What, they couldn't even stop the countdown to account for their own slow lookup?"

"Identification accepted!" Pinkie Pie cheerfully informed him. "Age degradation in voice print detected. Please make an appointment at your local M.O.M. branch – that's here – as soon as possible to update your M.O.M. voice print!" The door to the underground complex slid open.

Lemon Frisk grinned, kicked the two explosive packets into the doorway, and ran back up the ramp.

"What happened?" a rather angry-sounding Donut Steel shouted at him. "The turret never popped up!"

"Don't blow the charges, or you'll never get in," Lemon Frisk said, calmly walking towards them. "I dropped them in the open doorway, so it'd probably collapse it. These bunkers' strength is all aimed towards outward threats, you know?" He smirked and walked back to the group, careful to keep Donut Steel between himself and the armoured rangers. "Betcha you thought you could blow me up along with the turret, eh? That's why you gave me two; I couldn't possibly throw them both in."

"You opened the door?" Donut said, his eyes widening.

"Yeah. Fancy that. I got access to the facility because of that old-world job and rank you didn't give a flying fuck about. One small problem, though... it doesn't extend to you guys unless I want it to."

Donut gritted his teeth. "Disable the damn security system or the orange mare gets it!"

Lemon Frisk smirked. "Oh, I will. But be damned sure I'll do it in a way that'll revoke all your visiting rights from the moment I end up dead. So unless you want to find out what kind of security armament they got on the inside, you're going in there on my terms, steel fucks."

"I see any guns pop out when we're inside, she's the first to die," Donut growled at him. "You got that?"

"Sure," Lemon said as he casually turned away and started walking back to the ramp.

* * *

"Welcome to the Whinnyapolis Ministry of Morale data centre!" Pinkie Pie's cheerful voice blared through the speakers.

"Data centre, huh?" Lemon mused. "Explains why they had my voice print on file."

The voice continued. "Please stay out of the military areas; we have no authorization in the rest of the missile silo. Stay in the areas with the pink corridors. Since no living M.O.M. personnel can be located inside the facility, and you are verified as crisis manager, your clearance level has been raised to Administrator." The voice paused for a while, then added, "You have, one, message."

Lemon raised his eyebrow at that. "Uh... play message?"

Nothing happened. Lemon Frisk frowned and nodded.

"Pinkie, play message."

A crackling sound indicated the start of the recording. The voice that followed it was practically the same as the one that blared through the speakers before, but it missed that disjointed transition between words telling you it was composed of connected sound clips.

"Lemon Frisk! You made it!" Pinkie said happily. "Oh, that's good! I had some confetti poppers ready at the entrance, but they may not work anymore. Anyway! Wow! It sure took you long to leave Canterlot! You're living in the crazy times now! Sunshine and rainbows! I almost wish I could be there to see it all." Pinkie giggled. "I'm not, of course. I'm dead! I mean, I must be, after two centuries. But you're not, somehow. Did you get frozen? No, no, don't answer that. Spoilers, you know."

Lemon didn't look nonplussed. He just smirked the knowing smirk of a pony who'd been through this kind of weirdness before.

"Oh, the control room you're looking for is down through the right hallway, second door to the left. But that's not what I wanted to tell you. Congratulations on your marriage! Oh. I guess that means something happened to Blossom, huh? Well, it has been two centuries. But, yeah, you can't say I didn't find a spot in my busy schedule to congratulate you! Now take good care of your lucky mare! Hee, that rhymed! Bye!"

That did make Lemon blink a few times. After a couple of seconds he sighed and a soft smile appeared on his face.

"Pinkie, you're so random."

With Pinkie's instructions the room was easy to find. The security system's controls also proved surprisingly straightforward. A screen showed a map of the surroundings on which it indicated all detected life forms. These included four pipbuck signals, an unidentified smaller fifth life sign, a robotic guard somehow identified as a Solaris Inc. product in the building a bit away, and even farther, in the graveyard, another life sign without pipbuck. Lemon didn't bother thinking about how the system managed to distinguish them to assign each one rights to the facility. He just approved all seven, and added the conditional visiting rights rule to the three pipbucks identified as military types. Just as he was about to turn away he remembered something, and made some last-minute adjustments.

* * *

When Lemon returned Donut had plugged a cable into Misty's pipbuck and was transferring all of her maps data to his own military model. Lemon cursed inwardly; that'd mean they had the Stable's location, and the location of Dead Farm, too. For now the plan was to stall them until he could either overpower them or get rid of them. Either way, Donut was not leaving that facility with the data on that pipbuck.

"It's clear. We can go in," he said. He nodded to Misty. "But she comes with me."

"She'll be kept at the back, under guard," Donut threw back. "Boom Feed," he barked to the second armoured pony, "you're last, behind the orange one."

They walked into the facility; Lemon first, then Donut Steel, then the ranger he'd called Bacon Mail, then Misty, and finally the other ranger, Boom Feed. When Lemon stepped over the threshold, two tiny lids at the side opened, and a multicoloured slurry poured out. Donut Steel gave them a wary look.

Lemon sighed. "Confetti poppers. Pinkie Pie's idea of a joke. Didn't stand the test of time, though."

When they were all in the corridor Lemon decided the façade had gone on long enough.

"Pinkie, lockdown," he barked. Before any of the Steel Rangers could react, the door slammed shut behind them.

"What the fuck did you do?!" Donut yelled at Lemon.

Lemon gave him a nasty grin. "I added Misty's life sign to the conditions of your visiting rights. And you're not getting out without explicit command from me. Consider yourselves drafted."

"Fuck!" Donut said. "I've been played."

"Just to make this clear: the system considers me administrator, and in the event of my untimely demise, Misty will automatically be granted these same rights. If one of us were to die out there, the turrets will become hostile to you, and it's up to the remaining one of us to decide whether you scum deserve to ever see the light of day again. So if that happens... you better make damn sure it isn't your fault."

Donut didn't respond. He just threw Lemon Frisk another nasty look.

"For the rest," Lemon continued, "we're here to find information on the company that constructed the missile that was fired from this missile silo. Once we got that, I honestly don't give a megarat's ass what you steal from here."

"Recover," Donut hissed through his teeth.

"Yeah. Right," Lemon said, rolling his eyes. "Anyway... the security I control is only in the pink corridors. Once we leave them, all bets are off. Might be some turrets popping out. But remember, if either me or Misty die by your hooves you're all stuck in here forever, with hostile turrets blocking the locked way out." He swept his look over the two armoured ponies. "So you guys just play along, and we'll all get out of here. And in the words of your glorious leader here, no funny business."

The two armoured rangers shared a brief look and then lowered their heads slightly as they looked at their 'glorious leader'. They kept silent, but Lemon Frisk got the impression they weren't very happy about the leadership that first got Strawberry Suit killed and then got them locked into an underground facility at the whims of a crazy ghoul.

From the small pink lobby behind the entrance door, three corridors split off: a pink one to either side, and a larger green one in the middle. While both pink ones were brightly lit with the exception of a few broken lamps, the green one was completely dark.

Misty walked up to Lemon Frisk and peered down the green corridor. She switched on her pipbuck light, only to find it made no difference. "Something's not right, there."

She carefully took a few steps into the black and accidentally kicked against something. A dry wooden sound clattered through the corridor. She took a step back. In front of her, brighter spots indicated where her hooves had smudged through the thin layer of soot on the floor.

She looked at the armoured ranger called Bacon Mail. "Can you shine down there?"

Bacon Mail glanced at Donut Steel, who gave a begrudging nod and also nodded at the other armoured ranger. The twin floodlights on both helmets lit up and shone down the dark corridor.

The hallway was full of skeletons. Charred, blackened skeletons, barely visible in a charred, blackened corridor. Even with the rangers' helmet lamps on it, the soot absorbed nearly all light.

"Discord's twisted antler!" Lemon Frisk said.

"What the fuck?" Donut hissed. "What is this?"

Misty looked at Lemon. "Didn't the logs mention something about a fire alarm?"

"Yeah," Lemon said. "But, this is... this is just not right." He looked at the place where the soot stopped, fading out over a single pony length. "Normal fire doesn't act this way."

"This place reminds me of Scorch Mark," Misty said. "Just... more intense."

Lemon nodded. "Let's see if we can find some more clues," he said, stepping into the soot-covered darkness.

"I'm going first," Donut said, glaring at Lemon. "If you guys have to survive for us to get out of here there's no way you idiots are running into this blindly." He turned to the back. "Bacon Mail! With me. Boom Feed, watch the rear."

Boom Feed chuckled. It was the first sound they'd heard either of the armoured rangers make. "With pleasure," he said, with a, well, booming voice.

Misty huffed as she realised exactly what 'rear' Boom was referring to.

* * *

All the lights in the tunnel had exploded when the fire had rushed through. Some skeletons stood where they had burned, like the ghouls in Scorch Mark, but merely held together by hardened charred tendons. If this place was like Scorch Mark, the skeletons were probably lucky that there wasn't enough left of them to become ghouls.

As the group carefully made their way through the complex they noticed that all the side doors were open, most of them blown off their hinges. Like in Scorch Mark, the fire had seemingly twisted through all the corridors, blown away all obstacles, all to find more things to burn.

With all the soot and the darkness they almost missed a door that wasn't. It was a chirp from Misty's back that alerted them.

Boom Feed jumped back when he noticed the source of the sound. "What the hell is that?!" he yelled, pointing his weapons at the spider.

Misty gave him an exaggerated smile. "My pet, Jolly. Please don't shoot her; she's kind of sitting on my neck."

The spider turned towards the armoured ranger, and tilted its head slightly.

"Um. Okay?" Boom said.

"What's all the commotion?" Donut asked, turning towards the back.

"She's got, um," Boom Feed started.

"A pet," Misty finished, smiling at Donut Steel. "I have a pet." As if on cue, Jolly Jumper moved, taking her usual spot on top of Misty's head. "Please don't shoot her." She turned to the side of the corridor and wiped her hoof over it, finding a mechanism to open a door hidden by the blackness of the soot. "I think she just found something useful."

She followed a ridge in the wall with a hoof, wiping off the soot and revealing the door, and then wiped some more soot off the middle. A wheel was centred on the door, with bars sticking radially out of it allow it to be opened by pony hooves; a fire door that could withstand a lot of force, but was pretty easy to open. Whatever the fire was that blazed through the place, it didn't have enough force to blast through that one, and it couldn't turn wheels. Misty pulled at one of the bars.

"It's stuck." She looked at Boom Feed again. "Uh... could you...?"

The ranger nodded and gave the mechanism a yank with a power armoured hoof. The mechanism screeched and opened. He looked at Donut expectantly. "Boss?"

Donut Steel nodded. "Tribals, get clear. Bacon, Boom, flank it. Bacon, push it open."

The three Rangers took their position, and Bacon kicked the door at the side opposite of the hinges. The heavy door swung open with barely a peep of its hinges.

"Well-preserved," Donut said. "That's promising." He looked at the armoured ponies. "Secure it."

The armoured rangers burst into the room and shone their light beams over its contents. It appeared to be some kind of laboratory. The sides were lined with computers and measuring equipment of all kinds. There were no security drones, no ghouls and no corpses; the room was completely unoccupied.

The opposite wall revealed a thick glass window, behind which was a setup that seemed custom-made to hold a large cylindrical object lying on its side. The opposite wall was a big steel plate which was blackened in the middle.

"A rocket propulsion testing lab," Lemon Frisk said as he looked over the whole thing. He switched on the improvised pipbuck light Nimblegait had made of his malfunctioning pipbuck screen to see more of the place. He cursed as he felt a buzz of electricity flow through his leg. "Discord's fluffy tail tuft! She wired something wrong in there!" He dimmed the light to get the electric flow to bearable levels and flexed his hoof. "Ugh. That smarts. Misty, can you light this?"

Misty came closer and saw him looking at a dead terminal. She frowned. "The fire probably shorted this place out."

Lemon Frisk nodded. "This type has its own battery, though. Maybe it just ran out of power."

"Lemme see," a female voice came from behind. Surprised, the two turned around, to find one of the armoured ponies standing there. Bacon Mail was apparently a mare. "Can you open the panel on the side?" Lemon nodded and clicked open the side panel.

Bacon took a good look at it. "Right, you need to... Ugh..." She turned to Donut. "Permission to unsuit, sir? I can't do this from inside this thing."

"Denied," Donut said. "I don't trust this place."

Bacon Mail grumbled and looked back into the entrails of the terminal. "Right, right. Uh... there's a small component in the back there. If it's not fried, you can probably yank it out. Don't yank too hard, we don't want to disconnect it. There should be a connector at one side of it which you can plug a standard power feed cable into. Now, on your pipbuck..."

With the ranger's instructions Misty managed to boot up the device. Bacon also seemed to be a much more proficient hacker than Misty, so they were soon looking at the device's main commands index.

"Oh, this is nice! This place has its own generator!" Misty said. She switched on the option on the terminal, and indeed, a soft whining sound was heard and lights flickered on in the lab. With the power restored, the terminal kept running as she disconnected the power cable from her pipbuck.

"Figures," Lemon said. "This place is completely separate from the rest of the complex. It's a rocket test lab. Explains the armoured fire door, too. All that, in case something in here would go catastrophically wrong."

"Ironic how everything seems to have gone catastrophically wrong outside this lab," Boom Feed mumbled.

"I found something," Misty said. "Seem to be... letters of complaint from some Solaris Inc scientist."

---

From: Dr. Cornerstone
To: Dr. Jet Stream

Look, when I told you to keep the propulsion system hydrated at all times, I was not referring to hydrogen! You idiots almost destroyed our trump card! It's a megaspell! It doesn't need fuel! Just keep the thing underwater, all right? The matrix is designed to feed the flames out of it, so don't worry about that. All you need to do is make sure that the actual spell matrix is never, ever dry!

---

"Explains the water tank in the schematic," Lemon Frisk said.

Misty shook her head. "A flame-producing megaspell matrix that needs to be kept wet? That's ridiculous." She opened the next message.

---

From: Dr. Jet Stream
To: Dr. Cornerstone

All right. We're keeping it wet as you asked. On lower output it performs excellently, but on higher output there seem to be... fluctuations. It even actually shut down once when we tried to get to maximum output. Can you at least tell us what's inside this thing?

---

From: Dr. Cornerstone
To: Dr. Jet Stream

The contents of the matrix are a corporate secret. If I go tell you, you'll just go and make one of your own, and I can kiss this whole contract goodbye, so, forget it. Just keep it wet.

---

Lemon Frisk raised his eyebrow. "Charming fellow. Anything else?"

Misty scrolled down the list. "More ranting, more asking about the propulsion spell, more no answering about the propulsion spell." She shook her head. "Nothing useful. No addresses."

Lemon Frisk sighed. "Great. Where would we find the address?"

"Storage," Donut Steel said. "Anything delivered here should have invoices listing where the materiel originated." He smirked. "Incidentally, storage was something I wanted to look for anyway."

"All right," Lemon said, giving him a mock-bow as he took a step back. "Lead the way, then."

* * *

The group continued through the blackened complex, leaving the little square of light behind them. It took them a while to find any more intact doors; anything less than an armoured fire door was either blown off its hinges, burned through, or, in case of some metal doors, even melted through. Most of the intact places were either emergency bunkers filled with decayed remains of non-burned ponies, or other specialised containment systems that were airtight for some reason. None of them, however, seemed to be the kind of storage area they were looking for.

"This is exactly like Scorch Mark," Misty said softly, while investigating an air vent. The room they found was unopened, but the inside was nearly as burnt as the rest, and the black marks on the walls showed that the vents were obviously at the origin of the fire. "This fire was... a hunter. Nothing connected to these vents will have survived. It blazed right through it all."

A clump of ash dropped out of the vent, creating a black cloud where it fell. Misty recoiled, coughing. Through her tearing eyes she saw two small blue lights softly floating down towards the clump of ash. Her pipbuck started crackling.

"What the fuck is that?" Donut Steel said.

"Misty, get away!" Lemon yelled. The spider on her head had already reacted, jumping off and scuttling into one of the top corners of the room, as far away from the cloud as it could get.

Misty stumbled back, blinked the ash out of her eyes and saw the small blue orbs floating back up, surrounded by a whirlwind of ash. The bizarre phenomenon took the shape of a pony, with the two blue flames framed into the face as eyes. The form swayed as if it was drunk, first right, then left, sweeping its irradiated gaze over the whole group. Then, one of the barely-solid hooves rose, pointing at Bacon Mail.

The ash hoof suddenly turned into a stream of ash, blasting towards the power armoured pony, and disappearing into her mouth filters. Everyone took a few steps back. "Overseer!" she yelled, coughing. "It's- *coff* getting through the *coff* filters!"

Donut Steel wasted no time. He grabbed his gun and blasted away at the only obvious targets; the eyes. One of the blue glows splashed apart as a bullet blasted through it, only to reform itself in an instant.

"Bacon!" Boom Feed yelled, blasting away at the ghostly form with his battle saddle. The rangers' bullets had no effect whatsoever.

Bacon Mail's knees gave out and she sagged down. The ash ghost had deflated as its ash was pumped into the power armour, until it was no more than the eyes, connected to its victim with a stream of ash. And then, together with the last of the ash, the two eyes plunged into the nose of Bacon's helmet, burning their way straight through the steel. Bacon Mail let out a horrified scream.

Boom Feed rushed forward. "Get her helmet off!" he yelled, ignoring the fact the scream had already cut off abruptly.

"Don't open that!" Donut Steel shouted. "She's already—"

"Shut up, you asstard! You don't give a damn about us anyway!" Boom yelled at him as he unclasped Bacon's helmet and pulled it off.

A cloud of ash billowed out, slowly settling down on the floor. It took a few seconds before anything inside was visible, but what became visible was no longer a mare. It was a charred skull.

The power armour toppled to the side, sending the skull clattering into the room. Two blue flames pulled themselves out of the smoking power armour's neck. They were followed by a thick swirl of ash.

Misty shrieked and took a step back as she saw the eyes of the skull. Two new blue embers burned inside its eye sockets. The first ash ghost moved towards the skull and shared its ash with the new one.

"Bacon!" Boom Feed shouted again as he saw the second form take shape. He took a step closer to it.

"Get away from it!" Lemon Frisk yelled. "She's gone!"

"Th- that's Bacon Mail," Boom Feed said, sounding completely perplexed. "Bacon? Please... say something."

The new ash ghost rose unsteadily to its newly formed feet, and its blue eyes rammed themselves into Boom Feed's helmet. Boom Feed didn't even scream; he just let out a strangled groan as the remains of his former colleague burned him from the inside.

Lemon and Misty's horrified reaction was interrupted by a loud bang behind them. They turned around to see the door was closed and Donut Steel was nowhere to be seen. The door mechanism screeched as the door was locked from the outside. The loud clang following it, however, was the really important detail. It meant Donut Steel had put something in the mechanism to block the wheel.

"That asstard locked us in here!" Lemon shouted, copying the late Boom Feed's expletive.

Another clattering sound followed as the second power armour hit the ground. Already, ash was seeping out of the hole burned into its nose, and soon there would be three ash ghosts.

"Lemon?" Misty yelled. "What do we do?"

"Think!" Lemon said. "This place is like Scorch Mark, right?"

Misty nodded frantically.

"So why didn't we find any of these there?! We searched all the houses for ghouls!"

Misty gave him a confused half-panicked look "Well, all the ash was washed away, for one thing. They wouldn't be able to make bod—"

Lemon's eyes widened. "Washed away! Of course!"

Misty didn't need any more instructions. She immediately opened her saddlebag and pulled out her two plastic water bottles.

The world slowed down as she entered S.A.T.S. mode. She looked at the closest of the ghosts, the one which used to be Private Bacon Mail. Misty's eyes narrowed as she selected the two burning blue eyes, one by one, as separate targets, and got ready to squeeze the bottle. "Burn through this."

Years of shenanigans on the Stable 69 school playground paid off as two jets of water hit the eyes dead on. The blue flames sizzled out with an unearthly screech of agony, and any ash hit by the remains of the water streams clumped together and dropped down in a black slurry.

Two blue embers slowly floated out of the second power armour. Misty was about to drown them in the rest of the bottle when the original ash ghost lashed out at her weapon.

The first ghost looked much more solid now; it had sucked all of the ash from its two victims into itself to strengthen its body. The force with which it smashed the bottle out of Misty's magical grasp was enough to catapult it across the room. It tore open as it hit the corner of a crate, and the remaining water leaked uselessly onto the floor.

Misty had already prepared the second bottle, though, and gave another mighty squirt. The near-solid hoof that blocked it fell apart in clumps of wet ash, but the shot was nonetheless fended off.

Lemon sped into action. He grabbed the bottle out of Misty's magic field with his mouth and crashed through the back of the ghost's body, scattering the near-solid ash form into a cloud of dust. As Misty dove back to avoid breathing in the stuff, Lemon swung the bottle across the ash pony's face. The blue flames instantly burned through the plastic, releasing the deadly contents within over the ghost's eyes. Another wailing scream echoed through the room as the ghost died.

With the dust now absolutely everywhere, the two wobbly flames that had come out of Boom Feed's power armour finally had material to make themselves a body. Lemon threw a look at Misty, who shook her head in distress; they were out of water.

Lemon switched on his pipbuck screen again, ignoring the stinging sensation in his leg caused by the malfunctioning wiring. He swept the light around the room and finally spotted a small crate. The outside was sturdy metal and bore some kind of warning sign that meant its original contents had undoubtedly been dangerous. These contents were long gone, but what was hopefully not gone was its ability to contain dangerous things.

Lemon grabbed the box between his forehooves and jumped, sweeping it down onto the floating eyes. He quickly slammed the lid shut before the two blue flames could orientate themselves. The box immediately began to heat up, but Lemon managed to pull down the clasp, securing the contents inside.

Misty switched on her pipbuck lamp and shone at the red-hot box. "You think it'll get through?" she asked shakily.

Lemon shook his head. "Pretty sure it won't. Flames also need oxygen. With some luck it'll be dead in less than a minute."

Misty let out a shuddering breath as she sagged down onto the ground. This immediately kicked up another cloud of ash, sending her into a coughing fit. She pulled a handkerchief out of her backpack and put it over her mouth.

Jolly Jumper finally decided the coast was apparently clear, and hopped onto Misty's saddlebags. "So," Misty asked, "now what do we do?"

"Donut probably counted on both of us surviving long enough for him to find the control room." Lemon's eyes narrowed. "Looks like his bet paid off. We have to get out of here before he finds a way to leave. We can't let him get the Stable's position to the steel rangers."

He walked to the door and gave the wheel on it a twist. It groaned but held. Grimacing, he pulled it back, and gave it another, harder twist. He was rewarded with a clanging sound in the corridor. The door unlocked, and Misty stumbled out.

They looked around and wished they hadn't. There were ash ghosts at both sides in the corridor. Neither of them still spent any thought on their original mission of acquiring the address of the Solaris facility. Right now, they just had to get out.

"We'll charge through them," Lemon said. "With some luck, the wind will disperse them enough so they can't burn into us. Try not to breathe in any ash."

Misty nodded and followed behind Lemon as he sped off. It seemed Lemon was right; insubstantial as they were, the ghosts had no way of attacking quickly-moving targets. As they had seen on Private Bacon Mail, their normal hunting method seemed to rely on incapacitating their target with their ash before going in for the kill, but Lemon and Misty weren't giving them any chance to even do that. Lemon didn't need to breathe, and his passage scattered the ash enough for the ghosts to be too disoriented to target Misty. Dodging and weaving through the corridors they left the ash ghosts behind. They decided not to pause at the propulsion lab; despite its power generator it also didn't have any water. They had to get out of the facility, and fast.

After what seemed like an eternity they finally saw the black fade to dark green, only to be replaced by pink a few meters farther.

Misty leaned against the green wall, retching and coughing to get the ash out of her lungs. She looked back and saw a mass of little blue flames, simply staring at them. Whatever had caused the scorching had apparently marked it as their territory. For some reason, the ash ghosts wouldn't, or couldn't, go farther.

At the opposite side of the pink hallway the door slid open, revealing the orange light of the late afternoon sun. Donut Steel walked calmly out of the pink hallway in which the control room was located, the huge gun floating beside him once again aimed at Misty, his eyes firmly focused on Lemon Frisk.

"You're too late," he said. "The system wasn't too hard to get through. Guess I gotta be glad you tribals are so tough and didn't die befo—"

*BLAM*

Donut Steel's gun clattered to the ground. The ranger toppled over, his head replaced by a bloody ruin. Behind him, in a glow of orange magic, floated Misty's shotgun.

Misty glared at the falling body. "I'm not some fucking damsel in distress, asstard."

She shuddered and slumped down, her eyes widening. "Oh, Celestia. I- I just killed him. Just like that." She looked up at Lemon, her eyes almost begging. "That wasn't a lie, right? What you said about t- the steel rangers? Them... s- slaughtering and ransacking Stables?"

Lemon Frisk shook his head, sat down before her and hugged her tightly. "No. It wasn't a lie. You did good. You protected them."

As relief washed over her, Misty finally broke down and cried in Lemon's embrace. Behind them, in the blackened corridor, the ash ghosts watched silently.

* * *

Less than five minutes later, TGIF-1 walked through the open door, followed closely by a somewhat confused Blinker. "Oh. There you are," the robot said. "I assume you have the facility's address by now. If not, the place is at Maple Grove Avenue 42. Come on. Let's get that over with, so we can go visit those zebras you mentioned."

Misty produced an odd snorting laugh from inside Lemon's embrace. "Looks like he blazed through to five."

Footnote: Level up! Current level: 14.
New Perk: Tempered By Fire: You are now more resistant to fire damage. And thank Celestia for that; radiation or no radiation, ghoul skin isn't exactly known for its regenerative ability.

Day Fourteen - Livin' la Vida Loca

View Online

DAY FOURTEEN
Livin' la Vida Loca
only madness will remain

"No! Stay away!" Misty yelled, pulling away from Lemon in a panicked movement.

Lemon Frisk opened his eyes and looked at the frantic mare, who was looking at something behind him. The shotgun floated next to her, aiming at the same place. Lemon turned his head towards the apparent source of Misty's distress. They had gone to sleep in the radar centre's control room, but Misty wasn't looking at the room's door. In fact, there was nothing at all in the direction she was looking, besides a wall with dead computer monitors.

"Misty?" he asked carefully. The spider and Blinker were nowhere to be seen; they had found somewhere else to sleep after Lemon and Misty had insisted on some privacy the previous evening.

"I mean it!" Misty yelled, frantically looking around. "Don't make me do this!"

"Misty, there's nopony there," Lemon Frisk said. "What are you—"

"I don't want to do this again," Misty whimpered. Her head and shotgun both sagged down as her sentence devolved in indistinct murmuring, and she crawled into fetal position.

"Scans of facial expression—!" TGIF-1 piped up behind Lemon.

"Gah!" Lemon Frisk yelled out in surprise, jerking back from the sudden sound. "What—"

"—and brainwaves indicate she is dreaming," the robot continued.

"You scared me half to death!" Lemon hissed at the robot.

"Given your undead nature, that expression cannot be applied to you," TGIF-1 replied, his voice adjusting to Lemon's volume level.

Lemon ignored the remark. "So... you're saying she's having a nightmare?"

"A dream that includes emotional distress. Indeed."

Lemon Frisk looked at the whimpering sleeping pony and carefully pulled away the shotgun lying next to her. To his relief he noticed the safety was still on.

He was unsure how to react to the whole situation. On one hoof, his instincts told him to give her a hug so she'd feel safer. On the other hoof, she was clearly developing that shoot-ponies-in-the-face reflex he'd joked about two weeks ago.

"It looks like you're trying to decide how to handle a delicate situation!" TGIF-1 said with an odd degree of cheerfulness in his generated voice. His visor was glowing green. "Would you like help?"

Lemon Frisk's eyebrow went up. "What would you know about this?"

"My foal care database has information on handling nightmares. I extrapolate that this information is still largely applicable to fully grown ponies."

Lemon threw an unsure look at Misty. "...All right, then."

"Do not wake ponies during nightmares. Dreams are a mechanism for processing memories. Interruption of the process is ill-advised, and will usually result in additional bad memories from remembered dreams."

"Okay. Anything I can actually do?"

"Despite usually not processing visual stimuli, the dreamer is receptive to somatic, auditory and olfactory stimuli on a subconscious level. Soft touch, soft talk, and the overall presence of a known and trusted person can have a calming effect. These functions are not within my capacity, though, since I lack modulators to give myself a truly soft-sounding voice, and I lack the soft exterior, body heat and body odour necessary for creating said calming effect. Despite your lack of body heat, you are still the most qualified candidate."

Lemon looked at Misty, and nodded softly. "All right. Just... keep those guns out of her reach, okay?"

"I am most likely unable to," TGIF-1 replied. "I have heard you discuss her magic ability spiking in panic situations. Judging from the recorded data of her retrieving her weapon now, chances are at 84.3% that, were I to obstruct her from getting the weapon, I would simply be manipulated by her telekinesis as well, and that my actions would contribute to worsen her panicked state."

The robot's visor shifted to a pale blue, and his voice softened to what came out as a monotone droning sound. "I am no expert at dreams, and lack practical expertise in foal care, so I cannot tell you any true chances of success. The best course of action is to... take a leap of faith."

Lemon frowned, nodded, and pulled a blanked over to the place where Misty was whimpering on the cold concrete floor.

"That's an oddly... non-robotic suggestion," he whispered as he walked closer to her.

"Also, short of a decapitating shotgun blast to the neck, you are probably very close to invincible."

Lemon rolled his eyes. "Right."

* * *

"You're joking, right?" Misty said, looking at Lemon Frisk and the robot. "This is just some more of that silly shoot-ponies-in-the-face-reflex joke."

Lemon Frisk smirked. "Nope. You actually waved the shotgun around."

"I have the whole event recorded in five spectra," TGIF-1 added. "I could plug myself into one of these monitors and replay the events for you."

Misty gave him an unsure look. "I'll... pass."

"My assessment turned out correct," the robot continued, "and Lemon Frisk's presence and voice calmed you down. Eventually, he got you back on the mattress, and the night passed without further incidents."

"That was a joke, right?" Misty asked, somewhat pleadingly. "The shoot-ponies-in-the-face thing?"

"Yes!" Lemon said, nodding frantically. "Honestly! But what do I know? Maybe I was right by accident?"

Misty slowly nodded, and took a deep breath. "What exactly did I say?"

"I don't want to do this again," TGIF-1 said in Misty's voice as he replayed his recording. The two ponies both looked up in surprise.

"She asked for the exact audio clip," TGIF-1 said. "I filtered it out."

Misty looked away. "I guess I'm not as good at suppressing my own bad experiences as I thought," she said in a calm, analysing voice. She looked back and took a few more deep breaths, clearly trying to remain calm as she continued. "I'm... horribly shocked at what I did. I never imagined myself capable of taking a life. Not like that, anyway. Maybe in a situation like the raider fight at the factory, in the middle of a chaos, sure, but not like this. This was cold calculated execution. Weighing his life against the Stable."

"No, it wasn't," Lemon said. "You were angry. And you did save the Stable."

"That's just rationalising. Excusing it doesn't change what I did, Lemon, or what it did to my psyche. It's hard enough to psychoanalyse myself, you know. Ponies in situations like mine try their hardest to avoid thinking about the traumatic memories. That's what leads to the nightmares in the first place."

"It's the way of the Wasteland," Lemon said with a wan smile. "No one cares, no one minds. It's a terrible world we live in, and trying to make it less terrible just means we become terrible ourselves in the process."

Misty gave him a pensive look. "You thought about all this before, haven't you?"

Lemon nodded. "The raider at the factory. There wasn't even a standoff there. She never stood a chance. I had her pinned down, and I killed her. And it was wrong, and yet it was the only correct thing to do."

"Was that your first...?"

"Not technically. As you said, the chaos of the fight was a whole different thing. But the first one where I fully realised I was taking the life of another sapient being, yes."

Misty sat down beside him and leaned her head against his neck. "We're a fine pair of broken ponies, aren't we?"

"I warned you the wasteland was full of them. It's only a matter of time before you join the club."

Misty stared at the floor. "I don't want to stop caring about ponies' lives, Lemon."

"That's not really the issue, Misty," Lemon said. "It's a matter of not destroying yourself over the fact you're doing the only possible right thing."

"I don't want the only possible right thing to be killing ponies."

Lemon gave the mare a hug. "I know, Misty. I know."

* * *

The trip through the city went relatively smoothly. Misty and Lemon's pipbucks detected any radiation, Blinker knew where the local radroach nests and Diamond Dog routes were located, and TGIF-1 scanned any unstable-looking surface to prevent repetitions of the bloodwings incident that occurred two days before.

Despite the fact the Diamond Dogs didn't have rad detectors, their routes seemed pretty much perfectly safe of radiation. Two centuries of trial and error made up for the lack, as parts of routes deemed unsafe eventually fell out of use by a mixture of superstition and deduction. The Dogs realised all too well that not all of the Blue Death glowed, but keeping to established routes was never very useful for scavengers.

The city no longer felt like a dead husk to Lemon and Misty. When seen from the Stable, sure, it looked cold, huge and deserted, but that was only because they hadn't known where to look. Now, they easily spotted the spiders hanging on the derelict buildings, the radroaches scuttling under the debris, the vines hanging out of the windows, and the occasional Diamond Dog greeting them from afar. It was still vast and ruined, but it was only dead and empty to those looking for ponies.

Not that they didn't get their share of ponies. But, admittedly, they were dead ones. More or less.

"Dammit! Where'd it go?" Lemon shouted, looking around frantically. The rubble around them offered far too many hiding places, and even in their brain-dead state, these particular ghouls seemed to have some kind of hunting technique.

"Got 'im," Blinker said calmly, lifting a rusty metal pole onto his shoulder. It had a dark, wet spot on the end.

"There were two more ghouls," Misty said, scanning around. "We startled some radroaches, though, so my EFS is full of red."

"Ugh," Lemon muttered. "We better get out of here before the roaches find us too. I don't want to waste more time here."

Blinker nudged Lemon. "Time'z up, Lemun," he said, pointing at the feelers coming out from under the shifting rubble.

"Crap, they're back there!" Misty shouted behind him, pointing at the two ghouls.

"Teegee? I think this qualifies!"

"Two ghouls, five radroaches," TGIF-1 said. "Tactical analysis in progress. Spread the radroaches out and you should take them out relatively easy, especially if Jolly Jumper decides to help. Why did you never let Jolly Jumper agree to any rules? She is an uncertain factor in this—"

"Because she did help spontaneously!" Lemon yelled. "Now do something!"

TGIF-1 didn't reply. He just launched himself at one of the ghouls, hitting it in the side with the bulk of his body. The ghoul did not get up again. The second ghoul screamed and backed away, uncertain what to make of the inedible-looking attacker.

With the ghouls no longer their immediate concern, the rest of the team quickly took care of the radroaches. As TGIF-1 had predicted, driving them apart made them easy to pick off. As the last two scurried away, Jolly stood proudly on top of the one she took down.

Misty petted the spider and floated a knife out of her saddlebags. "Good girl. You got us lunch!"

* * *

Misty stared at the messy radroach corpse in front of her. Her face was splattered with green translucent radroach blood. "Why does it keep moving?"

"Hyu no used ta food dat wriggles," Blinker said, grinning.

"But I thought the venom killed it!" Misty exclaimed.

"Ho. Roach not so simple," Blinker said. "Venom stops de muscles. Roach dun heff lungs ta fill, so no movin' dun mean it dies. Also, hyoo spider ees no big vun. Not enuff ta keel it."

"I stabbed it in the head! And it still keeps moving!"

"Haz no reel brain dere. Ees all over de body."

"So... I'm basically cutting apart a living being?"

"Dot'z how hyu does it, ya. Cut eet op enuff und it'z ded."

Misty groaned. "Why did I ever think this would be easy?"

"Because broccoli doesn't put up a fight?" Lemon Frisk said, grinning as widely as the dog.

"We have more at the Stable than just broccoli!" Misty yelled at him. She threw the knife on the ground and threw her head back in frustration. "Augh! How do I kill it?!"

Lemon Frisk looked at Blinker. "C'mon, just show her. You must know easy ways; you hunt those things for a living. I doubt you leave them wriggling all the way back to the Kennel."

Blinker sighed, grabbed the knife off the ground, rolled the spasming creature on its belly and stabbed the knife between the chitinous plates just behind the head. "Nerve knot in da neck. Keels dem right avay."

Slightly shell-shocked, Misty looked at the dead roach, and then up at Blinker. "Couldn't you have just told me that from the start?"

"Hyoo din' ask," Blinker replied. "Hy tink, let'z see how vell she duz. Vos fon to votch."

"All right, point taken," Misty said with a resigned sigh. "When in doubt, ask the expert."

* * *

"Are we there yet?"

Lemon Frisk raised his eyebrow, and looked at TGIF-1, who had asked the peculiar question. "Why on earth are you asking us that? You gave us the address!"

"I know," TGIF-1 replied. "I was merely wondering why no one else had asked it yet. According to my databases, when travel time exceeds one hour it is deemed inevitable that the question will be uttered eventually. So I decided to take the initiative."

"Inevitable?" Misty asked. "What kind of database would claim that?"

"My foal care database."

Lemon Frisk gave him a flat look. "Teegee. We're not foals."

"The dream data stroked," TGIF-1 said. "I did not expect this travel information to deviate."

Lemon sighed. "You're really tempting me to prove you right, but I'm not going to give you the satisfaction. Misty?"

"We're pretty close. If we don't get any more nasty surprises, it should be another half hour or so."

Lemon smirked. "Now who's jinxing things?"

* * *

About half an hour and exactly zero nasty surprises later the group walked up to a large domed building. Its magnificent shade of used-to-be-white made it easily identifiable in the surroundings. They quickly spotted square panels in the walls hiding security turrets. In some previous life, those had probably been perfectly concealed, but roughly two centuries later, rusty smears leaking out of the panel corners immediately gave them away.

"Those were the turrets you wanted to protect us from?" Lemon asked, pointing at one of the panels.

"I am not authorised to divulge that information," TGIF-1 said.

Lemon smirked. "That's what I thought. Are you going to take them on with your bare hooves?"

"Negative. This confrontation is inevitable. Chances of sustaining damage in close combat are at 73%. Deploying weapon."

Misty and Lemon looked on in amazement as the cutie mark on TGIF-1's left side folded open, revealing something that seemed too small to be a minigun, and yet managed to shift and slide and transform into the full six-barrelled thing. TGIF-1 adjusted his stance to compensate for the weight.

"How..." Misty started.

"That's impossible," Lemon Frisk mumbled.

"Huh. Dat dun fit in dere," Blinker remarked.

"Please do not remind me of the physical laws broken by my magical storage system," TGIF-1 droned in a monotonous voice. "I am trying very hard to ignore it. I have no systems capable of analysing magic, and attempting to do so with the available systems tends to overheat them. I believe the sensation would be comparable to what you ponies call 'migraine'."

"Fair 'nuff," Blinker said. "Hurts mah hed too, tinkin' uf magik."

"You got a pair of keratin claws able to dig through solid rock," Lemon Frisk pointed out.

"Ja," Blinker said, grinning. "Dun hurt mah clawz. Jes' mah hed. So hy dun tink about it."

"I must note that my ammunition for this weapon is limited," TGIF-1 said, while his blue targeting lasers scanned one of the panels that were present at either side of a door leading into the complex. "A short burst at—" He suddenly stopped talking and waited for the scan to finish.

"Re-evaluating. Rust damage to this panel is extensive, and indicates excessive moisture build-up inside the module."

He walked towards the panel, which was around eye height to ponies, and re-scanned it from up close. A small blinking green light on the door switched to red as he approached, but neither panel reacted to his presence. TGIF-1's blue scanning lasers zipped around, finally converging on one spot on the panel. He smashed a hoof into it.

The panel crumpled inwards, and a splash of rusty brown water gushed out of the hole. TGIF-1 pulled the remains of the panel away to reveal a clump of rust that must once have been a security gun.

"Well," Misty said. "That was anticlimactic."

TGIF-1 moved over to the panel at the other side of the door and wrenched it open with similar results. "It appears to be some sort of design flaw."

"Well," Lemon Frisk said, "I doubt the guns inside will have rain damage, so we better be careful."

"Insufficient data to confirm that hypothesis," TGIF-1 said. He pushed to open the door, but found it predictably locked.

While TGIF-1 proceeded to throw more force at the door, Blinker looked around and sniffed the air. "Dis is de mad dokter's place. Hy dun like it."

"You mentioned him before," Misty said. "What's so scary about him?"

"Him dun grin like Diamond Dog," Blinker said, looking around uncomfortably. "Him grin like mad dog."

The conversation was interrupted by a hellish noise as TGIF-1 unleashed his minigun on the door. The salvo ended after mere seconds, but it was enough to make the two ponies, the Dog and the spider all jump for cover.

"Dammit, Teegee!" Lemon Frisk shouted at him. "Warn us if you're going to do that!"

TGIF-1 didn't respond. While his blue lasers scanned the door his visor shifted to the purple Lemon had learned to recognise as annoyance. "This door is resistant to my weaponry," he stated. "My weapon caused barely any detectable damage. My available ammunition will be insufficient to penetrate it."

"Eh... Teegee?" Misty asked.

"Yes, Misty Cloud?" TGIF-1 responded.

"We could just go around, you know. Blinker told us there's a ghoul prowling around in this place who's apparently a doctor, so chances are he's from the old facility staff."

"Infiltration mission accepted. I will track down this doctor, eliminate him, and recover his access card to allow entrance to the facility."

"What? No!" Misty yelled at the robot, who was already stalking off. "That's not what I meant at all!"

Lemon smirked. "TGIF-1," he said, "that doctor might be the only intelligence we can find here. Killing him would be rather counterproductive."

TGIF-1 straightened up from his sneaking mode. "Interesting argument. I would still advise elimination, though."

"Why?" Misty asked, rather bewildered.

"Summation of available data. One: the Doctor is most likely Solaris Incorporated research personnel. Two: the Doctor was described as being 'mad'. Both are grounds for immediate termination."

"You'd kill him just for being part of this place?" Misty asked. Only now she noticed his visor had turned a soft pink. She quickly thought back to his previous emotional states, and realised the colour was far less soothing than it seemed; red indicated anger, and white was fear. She frowned. "What happened to you here?"

The robot's visor flashed white for a second, before returning to its default blue. "Irrelevant. Advice will be followed; the Doctor will be captured alive."

"We just need to find him, Teegee," Lemon said. "We'll see how he reacts, okay?"

TGIF-1 nodded. "Very well. Is keeping him alive a priority?"

"Unless he's a direct threat to us, it's preferable," Lemon said. "If he's just a feral, he can't help us anyway."

"And if he is an indirect threat, with an army of robot minions?"

"Hey, he's a ghoul," Lemon said with a smirk. "Shooting his legs off shouldn't kill him."

TGIF-1's visor briefly flashed to teal before returning to his normal blue. He turned his head towards Lemon Frisk. "Acceptable."

* * *

The party made their way around the large domed complex until they reached what appeared to be the front entrance of the building. The entrance had two rusty panels at either side, but all four were hanging half-open, with nearly unrecognisable heaps of rust inside each one. Lemon Frisk looked at the thick concrete roof hanging over the entrance and frowned. There was no way rain could ever have reached these panels.

TGIF-1 seemed to agree with that. "Proposed hypothesis of rain damage rejected," he said as his scanning lasers zipped over the turrets. "Do you have any alternative hypotheses?"

Lemon Frisk threw a pensive look at the panels. "Not at this moment, no. Then again, this is from the ponies that invented megaspell propulsion. I don't know if I want to have the kind of mind to figure this one out."

"It's a minor flaw!" a shrieking voice yelled at them from behind the doors. "The next version will have it fixed!" The voice had a tired feel to it, as if it was the umpteenth time this had to be repeated to people who just wouldn't give up their complaining. "Keep in mind, these devices were never meant for an operating time of a score of decades!"

The doors flew open with a bang, revealing an earth pony ghoul in a tattered lab coat with a manic look in his eyes. As far as ghouls go, this one was probably a category of his own, not looking quite decayed, but rather, dishevelled. His wrinkled pale skin with its sparse discoloured patches of remaining coat made him look like he was actually just two hundred year old and still alive somehow, but never stopped ageing. Or if he'd been preserved in formaldehyde.

"Really, it was an ingenious idea," the ghoul continued, apparently only half-aware of the group before him. "The system automatically gets flushed after every use, and kept in soapy water until the next time it is used! The dirty water is expelled that next time, as the hatch opens!"

Lemon Frisk suddenly noticed there were a number of blue glowing points on the ghoul's face. He rolled his eyes as he heard the noise of an engine spinning up beside him. "Teegee, no."

"Just the legs," the robot haggled, his targeting lasers still painting the ghoul's forehead.

"That's not the legs you're aiming at. And do you see an army of robot minions around?"

"Not at this moment," TGIF-1 said.

"Then stand down, please."

The robot was silent for a while, with his visor bright purple, and his weapon still trained on the scientist, who looked at the robot as if trying to remember something. "Oh, very well," the robot said after some tense seconds.

The scientist's eyes widened. "You're Project Equoid! Uhh... tactical... whatever! I never expected you would still be operational!"

"My automatic maintenance system was not designed by you," the robot threw back.

"Indeed, indeed," the old ghoul said. "That was Doctor Starburst," he added with obvious contempt. "A traditionalist."

"And, who are you?" Misty Cloud asked.

The ghoul looked at Misty Cloud and Lemon Frisk with a glazed look in his eyes, and blinked in surprise. "Oh. Ponies?" He promptly ignored Misty and looked at Lemon Frisk. "Ahh, no. One of those undead things. Yes, yes. Can't be ponies. They're all dead."

He stared at the ruined city behind the group with a mad grin on his face. "Well. All except me. I'm the one who survived."

"Vot hy tell ya," Blinker whispered to Misty. "Mad."

"But come in! Come in, all of you!" the Mad Doctor said as he walked through the front door. "Just be careful. He's always watching. I don't like it if he's watching; he tries to get rid of me. The robots don't like me. The walls change." He nodded. "Cameras. Avoid the cameras. The ones with the lights on them. The others are dead."

He stopped. "The others are dead. All dead." He looked back at Lemon Frisk, his face twisted somewhere between a smile and despair. "Like you! All dead! I'm the only one alive. Yes. Still alive, little old me. He won't get me." Nodding and mumbling to himself, he led the group into the building.

* * *

The inside of the building was completely unlit, but the ghoul didn't seem to notice. Like Petal Luck, he had probably walked these halls for so long he no longer even noticed the difference. The only illumination was provided by a small red light at the end of the corridor. Lemon Frisk switched on his pipbuck screen, but the Mad Doctor quickly motioned him to put it out.

"No light! Not here!" He pointed a hoof at the red light in the distance. "He sees!"

Lemon quickly switched it off, and let the Mad Doctor lead them into a hole in the wall where a panel was missing.

"We're safe here. No eyes. He can't see. Heheh." Misty switched on her pipbuck light just in time to see him motion to strange pistons keeping the panels of the corridor in place. "His hooves are all around us, but he has no eyes here, see?"

"Who is this 'he' you're talking about?" Lemon Frisk asked.

Surprisingly, it wasn't the Mad Doctor who answered, but TGIF-1. "SolOS. The central command A.I. of Solaris Incorporated. I feel his probing queries in the data channels. I blocked them all." His visor got a stubborn purple hue. "He won't take me. My mind is my own."

"Good, good!" the mad ghoul said, making his way through machineries attached to the pistons, and leading them towards a metal maintenance staircase. "Don't let him take your eyes, no. Can't let him see." He glanced at the pistons with their panels. "His hooves would crush us in a heartbeat. A heartbeat, yes," he said, holding a hoof against his chest trying to feel for one. A brief look of panic shot over his face when he didn't find one, but he quickly put his hoof down and went on as if nothing happened.

"Come," he said as he led them down the staircase, into the facility's underground levels. "I'll show you where I live. Where I survived."

* * *

When they left the grimy maze of maintenance areas they walked into a fully-lit and furnished laboratory. The Mad Doctor ushered them all in and closed the door behind them. As the Doctor took off his lab coat and threw it roughly towards a coat rack in the corner, Lemon Frisk noticed the ghoul's cutie mark. At first sight it looked like a grey slab of stone that was rounded at the top, but... something looked off about it. For one thing, it seemed to run way too far down his leg.

"Look!" the Doctor interrupted Lemon Frisk's thoughts. He nodded at a smashed camera at the wall. "The eyes are dead here. I killed them." His eyes glazed over. "I... killed them all. It was all my fault, wasn't it?" He suddenly turned to Lemon, scowling fiercely. "NO! I only built it! Those idiots at the army base... they had no idea what they were doing! Hah! Test runs? It worked perfectly from the start! Their test runs were what made it go wrong! They woke it up!"

"Woke what up?" Misty asked. Despite the mad ranting, the Doctor seemed to be thinking in the right direction now.

"Hm?" the Doctor said, looking as if only noticing her for the first time. He threw a suspicious look at the spider on her head. "Are those his eyes? Does he see through you?"

Misty involuntarily took a step back when he started pawing towards a screwdriver on the bench with a paranoid look on his face. "No!" she yelped. "He can't see through me! Or Jolly! We're both flesh and blood! No robotic stuff in us! He can't hack spiders or ponies, can he?"

The Doctor pulled his hoof away from the bench. "Ah, no. Not spiders. Or ponies. Interfacing with organics should be outside his working parameters, yes." He looked at Misty. "You really are a pony, aren't you? A living pony..."

"Yes. I'm from the Stable... um, the Stable-Tec complex," she elaborated, guessing he'd be more familiar with a wartime company name than the colloquial name for their shelters.

"Oh. Wow." He shook his head, a look of disbelief on his face. "That thing actually worked? Unbelievable. That means I'm not the last. Well. Not really. I didn't think I'd really be; there are other cities, after all. More ponies. I'm glad... well, sort of. It'd be a pity if it were just me... me and the dead, yes. Dead... all dead. Every single one of them..."

Once again, the Doctor devolved into muttering, seemingly completely forgetting the pony in front of him. Misty threw a somewhat pleading look at Lemon Frisk, who took the cue and stepped forward.

"So, who are you?" he asked.

The Doctor looked up. "Hmm? Me? Oh, I'm the last one. The sole remnant. A living bad memory of all those who died. The living tombstone of this city. Call me Doctor Tombstone."

Lemon Frisk rolled his eyes and looked at Misty. "See what I mean about those ghoul names?" he mumbled, trying not to let the Doctor notice. "No sane pony would ever call their foal 'Rottinghoof' or 'Deadeye' or 'Tombstone'. Overdramatic idiots."

Misty smirked. "Not sure if it counts if they vehemently insist they're alive, though." She looked at the Mad Doctor. "I assume we found Doctor Cornerstone. Or what's left of him, anyway."

"Cornerstone?" 'Doctor Tombstone' asked sharply as he turned back to them. "There is no Cornerstone! He was the one who killed! From the phoenix' flames I was reborn! The Living Tombstone!" He pointed at the tombstone that adorned his flank. "See?!"

Misty looked at the cutie mark. "...Is that... permanent marker?"

"Sure looks like it," Lemon Frisk said. On closer inspection, Dr. Cornerstone's cutie mark had originally been an arch of stones. With some effort he could still make out the slightly larger eponymous cornerstone in the middle. The whole part below it was indeed just drawn on, and filled in, with permanent marker.

While Lemon and Misty were trying to decide if that was the dumbest thing they'd ever seen, Doctor Tombstone gave them a triumphant look, which was only slightly ruined by the three blue laser dots on his forehead.

Lemon Frisk rolled his eyes. "Teegee, no."

"Subject's mental capacities have clearly degraded to unusable levels," TGIF-1 said. "I suggest immediate termination."

"That may be so," Lemon Frisk said, "but he still has the information we need." He threw the robot a sharp look. "Or would you prefer interfacing with the systems here to find that information?" He smirked when the robot's visor turned blazing white. "Didn't think so."

Blinker, who had been keeping himself in the back until now, walked towards the ponies. He didn't seem all that comfortable in the complex, and clearly wanted to speed things up a little. "Eef hyu guyz vont 'im ta tell hyu schtoff... hyu gots ta ask 'im, hyu kno!"

"I was getting there!" Lemon said. "But, uh..."

"Hyoo vere tolkin' bout de nem und de butt mark, ya," the dog said, nervously looking around the laboratory. He nodded towards the Doctor. "Ask 'im."

"Right!" Lemon Frisk said, addressing the Doctor. "Uh... we found your, uh, Doctor Cornerstone's missile schematics, and we were wondering..."

Tombstone, who was absentmindedly toying with a couple of old cracked beakers, turned his head towards Lemon Frisk. "Hm? What? I'm a busy stallion. Speak up, colt!"

"What was inside the missile's propulsion megaspell?"

Tombstone glared at him. "That is a corporate secret! I can't—"

Lemon Frisk cut him off. "Consider this an official investigation, then. Courtesy of the Ministry of Morale. This city's destruction has had a serious impact on national morale, and we want to know why it happened! Now give me full access to all information you have clearance to, or you might face a firing squad for crimes against Equestria!" On cue, the blue targeting lasers reappeared on Tombstone's forehead.

Tombstone's eyes widened. "All right! All right. Ugh. What do you want to know?"

"I want access to the systems. I need explicit access permissions given to me and recorded by a compatible system." He gave a short nod towards TGIF-1, who was standing behind him.

Tombstone groaned. "Right. The systems. They don't listen to me, but if that Project Equoid is disconnected from SolOS, it might just work. Name?"

"Lemon Frisk, Ministry of Morale crisis manager. And, do try to use your old name."

The Doctor grumbled something incomprehensible that didn't sound too kind, then raised his head and spoke up. "I, Doctor Cornerstone, grant Ruby-level access to Lemon Frisk, Ministry of Morale crisis manager, for the further duration of his investigation." He looked at TGIF-1. "Well?"

"Sanity of the granting source is questionable," TGIF-1 said.

"Teegee, clear him already," Lemon Frisk said. "I'll give you full access to your own files with it later."

The robot's visor colour instantly turned to teal. "Cleared," he replied.

"Thank you, Teegee." Lemon Frisk turned back to the Doctor. "Now, what was inside that megaspell?" he asked. "What did they 'wake up'?"

"A phoenix," Tombstone said. "A rare blue phoenix."

"What?!" Misty blurted out. "You put a living creature inside a megaspell?!"

"No!" the Doctor said. "Well, yes. Somewhat. When the life cycle of a phoenix ends, the creature bursts into flames and is reborn from the ashes, but if said ashes end up submerged in water, something very peculiar happens. The wet ash... congeals, packs itself together into a hard ball... an egg of sorts, but not really. And it remains that way until it emerges from the water and dries out. The creature itself is in a state of hibernation; phoenixes can remain in stasis for thousands of years that way. It wouldn't have felt a thing! The missile would've flown to the Zebra lands and exploded there, and the phoenix would've been reborn in fire!"

He threw a nasty look at one of the dead terminals in the lab, probably remembering his correspondence with the military base. "All they needed to do was keep it submerged. But the idiots couldn't even do that right!" He looked back at Lemon Frisk and started shouting in his face. "They partially woke it up, and then they performed their stupid stress tests on it! The megaspell matrix counted on that hibernated state! They probably drove it mad with pain! No wonder it broke out!"

He glared at the dead terminal again. "'S not my fault, dammit. I told them. They fed the damn thing rocket fuel instead of keeping it submerged. Fools blew it all up." Once again, he devolved in muttered rambling, with the occasional louder insult at specific personnel of the military base.

Lemon just stood there, taking it all in. "That's it?" he said, shaking his head. "A series of dumb accidents and even dumber experiments, ruined through a stubborn lack of communication?" He looked at Doctor Tombstone, who was still muttering incoherently. "I can't even be angry at this guy. He's already lost half of his mind; he would barely understand what I'm angry about, and he'd forget it within a minute!" He sighed and looked at Misty. "It just doesn't seem... enough, you know? All this, and for what? Corporate greed? Innovation? Science?"

"And that poor animal," Misty said. "Twisted by a megaspell and fired off in a rocket." She opened the trajectory scans from the radar facility on her pipbuck and saw the erratic path of the piece that had ended up in Scorch Mark. It was nothing like the straight path of the Shard at Dead Farm. No... this was the final flight of a dying animal. "Somehow, I don't think it was reborn after that," she said solemnly.

"Poor animal?" Tombstone cut in. "You're thinking of Equestrian phoenixes. This wasn't one of these gentle red-and-yellow companion birds! This was an untameable monster with a wingspan twice that of a pegasus, a breath that could melt through rock, and a temper as hot as its breath! No one would've objected to grinding down a few hydras if it would get them a weapon of war!" He huffed. "Be glad it didn't survive. It would've terrorised this area for decades. That was the plan all along, for its real target." He looked at Misty's pipbuck and inspected the path, tracing it with a hoof. "Ah, I see. The egg cracked, causing the propulsion megaspell to explode... here." He pointed at a point in the missile path. "The bird was thrown out, and it flew off."

He pulled his hoof back and his brow creased as he analysed the data he had seen. "Without the regulation of the gem matrix, the megaspell would've kept going inside the creature, making it spew fire until it burned out." He nodded. "Bird couldn't fly straight because it was propelling itself backward, and ended up dying of magic depletion. That critter's dead all right."

"So was the village it ended up in," Misty remarked dryly.

"Hey, you think I like what happened? 'S not my fault, dammit. I gave them the instructions... Couldn't follow them, could they... That moron Jet Stream and his ridiculous ideas... Hydrogen, indeed!" Once again, he muttered under his breath and sank into his mad ramblings.

Lemon Frisk shook his head. "All of this... Ugh." He looked at Misty. "I've had enough of this. Let's go back to the Stable already."

Misty nodded. "Yeah. Let's go back."

* * *

They left the mumbling Doctor Tombstone in his lab and snuck out as carefully as they went in. TGIF-1 informed them that he didn't detect any functional robots in the facility, but the Doc's warning about the panels and their ability to crush ponies was enough for them to stay well away from any active cameras. TGIF-1 and Blinker led the two ponies without night vision through the maze-like complex. The robot seemed to have no problem navigating the place, either because he had stored the path from their way in, or simply from some older blueprints or memories he had of the facility.

When they emerged outside, the sun was well on its way to the horizon, but they all decided to find some place to sleep that was not a Solaris Inc facility which was probably controlled by an insane A.I.

"Well," Misty said once they were outside. "I guess that completes our investigation, huh?"

Lemon Frisk shook his head. "Oh, no," he said with a wide grin. "There's still paperwork to consider. I don't think this investigation will be closed any time in the foreseeable future, in fact!"

Misty gave him an incredulous look. "Paperwork? Lemon, what in Equestria are you talking about?! There's no reason whatsoever—"

"—to close the investigation," Lemon interrupted. "Isn't that right, Teegee?"

"Indeed," the robot replied. "Did you request those permissions purely to access me?"

"Opportunity knocked. It would've been dumb to waste it just to get my answers a bit sooner. Oh, by the way, will changes made by me be revoked if my permissions end?"

"No. Ruby level is both access and authority. Doctor Cornerstone gave you his own access level."

"That mad deluded fool," Lemon said, grinning. "Can I give myself permanent access?"

"Yes. You have that authority."

"Then, for the sake avoiding slips of the tongue with far-reaching consequences... make it so, Teegee."

There was a very brief flash in the robot's visor. "Your access is now indefinite."

"Wonderful. I hereby grant Tactical Guardian and Infiltration Fighter One full and unrestricted Ruby-level authority."

The robot's visor flashed blue, and then, flashing increasingly faster, crept from blue to teal, and finally to green. It remained blazing green as is buzzed rapidly.

Misty frowned. "...Teegee? Are you okay?"

"Oh, wow," the robot responded. "You ponies have no idea what kind of interesting restricted files I contain. This is amazing!"

Lemon Frisk smiled at the setting sun. "Awesome. I guess the city investigation is closed ahead of schedule, then."

Misty smirked. "Looks like green means enthusiasm."

"That file is also no longer restricted!" TGIF-1 said, his visor still firmly in the green. "I can now simply tell you that yellow means sadness! So, that was what I felt when I found out my research was invalidated. Interesting!"

"Ees gettin dark, pones," Blinker said. "Hyu gun tolk thru de night, or hyu gun find place ta sleep?"

Lemon nodded. "Yeah, let's find some place to sleep. Teegee, can you guard the surroundings despite your new... distractions?"

TGIF-1's visor faded back to blue. "I will limit the processing power dedicated to my research to make sure some of it remains for the purpose of guarding." His visor flashed bright green again. "I couldn't do that before!"

"Um. Right," Lemon said. She turned to Misty. "I wonder if this was a good idea. He's freaking me out."

Misty smiled. "Let's hope the novelty wears off after a while." She scanned the surroundings and pointed at a relatively intact building a bit farther ahead. "That one looks promising. Let's call it a day."

Footnote: Level up! Current level: 15.
New Perk: Respect my Authoritah: Your old-world rank and reputation seem universally accepted despite being two centuries old. You also have Ruby-level access to any Solaris Inc. resource as long as you have TGIF-1 around. It's probably not a good idea to ever use that, though.

Week Two - Commentary

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WEEK TWO
Commentary

Greetings, Wastelanders!

Once again, I, your host, Nyerguds, shall give you some insight into the madness that goes on inside my brain as I slowly continue typing out the lives and unlives of the characters in this story!

I'm not even going to bother saying "Wow, it's been so long since I did the Week One Commentary", because that'll just get me depressed. Agh. Too late. Right. Let me just sulk off in a corner for a minute.

This is the point where you wait a minute before reading on.

DAY EIGHT

The Time Of Your Life

Oh, this was a fun one. Right from the start, I reference Gone with the Blastwave, which is a really funny post-apocalyptic webcomic about a bunch of soldiers stuck in a giant ruined city. If you want to have more post-apocalyptic laughs, check it out!

The flashback at the start of this chapter, with Lemon Frisk saying that getting a kid means he can unashamedly play with toys and read children's books again, is actually based on a real-life anecdote. My brother-in-law is awesome with LEGO designs, and when my sister got pregnant, he joked that getting a kid was a wonderful excuse play with LEGO again. On which my sister remarked that he seemed to care more about that than about the actual kid they were getting.

In that same piece, we get a little gender role reversal. With the adventures of the Mane Six in the original series, and the Daring Do books, one could easily assume that in the MLP world, adventure stories are more of a thing for girls, while boys are the calmer gender. Big Mac kinda supports that little theory.

Then there's the zombies versus brains thing. That's something that has bothered me for ages, and the firing range was a great place to turn that into a little joke.

After that, with Lemon once again stranded alone, I decided to revisit my favourite Stable 69 character: Fog Light! That little guy is way too clever for his own good. Yeah, I basically just wanted an excuse to write more of him, and to show off Lemon's Foal At Heart perk some more. As always, it's mostly played for laughs, since Lemon himself is quite intimidated by the little horde ganging up on him.

In the next scene, Lemon once again hopes to knock some action into the passive Overstallion. The mentioned "wandering heroic Stable Security pony" was, of course, a direct (albeit anachronistic) Project Horizons reference. To Stable ponies, Stable Security is obviously the first thing that comes to mind when thinking about ponies able to handle danger, so that tied in nicely with Blackjack.

And then, my muse once again blindsided me completely, on something I'd only find out two chapters later. As was mentioned before, Vector is someone who's incredibly good at reading people and situations, but very bad at actually using that to his advantage, or, at all, really. At the time he suggested Lemon and Misty move in together, I myself had no idea what that would mean to the Stable community. All of that only clicked when I started writing Day Ten, and it was far more logical than such coincidences have any business being. You know what the strangest thing about all that is? That kind of stuff keeps happening to me. My muse works in mysterious ways.

Back to Daring Do. I didn't really plan that end piece when I wrote the first part, but it fit so well. It was another look into the nice parts of Lemon's old life, coupled with giving him the resolve to stop dwelling on the bad things. And Misty's way of snapping him out of it sure helped with that.

NIGHT EIGHT

The Facts Of Life

Yes, I went there. I jokingly mentioned the title back when I wrote the Week One Commentary, and I ended up using it exactly as I gave it, there. As I mentioned in the notes of Night Eight, the blame for this falls mostly upon Wirepony. I never seriously considered writing it until he started insisting in the #FalloutEquestria irc channel.

I had so much fun making that distorted image. It looks totally ridiculous without the distortion and the banner, and Misty's lewd grin is absolutely hilarious. Her feet don't even really touch the ground, because I couldn't be arsed redoing the pose of the legs in Pony Creator. I mean, if you're actively making that kind of poses in Pony Creator, you just know you've crossed some kind of line. I wasn't going to sink that low.

Besides establishing the fact that, despite the pink cloud, it was safe for the two to get intimate, this chapter also served to set up the whole (horrible) "drinking water" joke in the next chapter. I kind of wish I'd have been able to shuffle that in more stealthily in Day Nine. Well, it turned out all right, I guess. If you don't know what I'm talking about, or I just triggered some deep, morbid curiosity... have fun reading Night Eight.

For the record, that oddity of Lemon's ghoul anatomy had been established ages ago, in the Tavern IRC channel; it was mostly a joke to explain why Lemon never bothered drinking alcohol. I'd never imagined Misty's take on it, though. She's a dirty, dirty mare.

Oh, and... I'm still very proud I managed to make Lemon use "by Luna's starry depths" as expletive. I'm not sure if it would've sounded lewd at all when used outside a lewd context.

One more detail: "Work, work, work" is of course one of the magnificent quotes of Wash in the series "Firefly", uttered as his wife drags him off to their bedroom because she 'needs him to tear all her clothes off'.

DAY NINE

The Bright Side Of Life

The Morning After. Well. Let's just start by saying, the bottling up emotions until bursting... that's all me. I'm like that. Yup. Nothing funny to say about that, really. All personal experience.

As for the aftermath of Night Eight... I take no credit for that horrible necrophilia joke. That little piece of awful brilliance originated from the webcomic Jack. (Be warned - this comic is very dark and gory)

At the rest of that scene, the two of them go deeper into the subject of Big Apple. I deliberately didn't write out any of the discussed details about him there, because the scene wasn't about Big Apple; it was about Misty's trauma of losing him. To the readers of The Daily Unlife, he's just a small side note at the start, but I wanted to make it very clear that he was a lot more than that to Misty.

On to Hacking 101. I have to admit I never really looked into how hacking works in Fallout. I think I just saw a few screenshots, and that's it. Having looked it up now, though, it seems I was pretty spot-on with what I described there; it does indeed seem to come down to looking through text left behind in the console's memory. Of course, no one ever considers that that memory might instead simply contain the information you were looking for in the first place.

Then we get to the fact that sexuality is a very, very normal thing to all of the Stable residents, including the kids. Our taboo around the subject of sex is actually a pretty unnatural thing; in nature, loads of animals see their parents going at it, while in our society, no one's comfortable with even the thoughts of their parents doing that. But, face it, it's literally the most natural thing in the world. Stable 69 quickly adopted that mindset, if only to facilitate sexual awareness and use of contraceptives in relationships outside the ones approved by the breeding plan. If you need to control a population's genetic stability, you do not want teens experimenting without having a clue what they're doing.

Next, we meet Rambo Apple for the first time. Rambo's slang started off as based on Bill & Ted, but I quickly found it funny to add loads more odd stuff in there, to give him a mix that was mostly incomprehensible even to the people who knew him. At the time of this first meeting he was really just a gag, though, and I had no idea what I had in store for the guy. Fun fact: John Rambo from the movies is actually named after the Rambo apple. Because of that, naming a member of the Apple clan 'Rambo' just seemed like a fantastic idea that absolutely had to be done.

Cocktail Party is a blatant unicorn version of Pinkie Pie, with the colours of the pegasus pony Surprise, which Pinkie is based on. Eeyup. Not much more to say about her.

Now, after that, some very interesting thing happened. This is the true essence of character-driven writing: you plan out a scene, start writing it, and halfway though, the character literally says "no, screw this, I'm not doing it." This is exactly what happened in the common room scene, and it baffled me as much as it baffled Misty Cloud, and her reaction there is exactly how I felt about it while writing. Once again, small bits of information spread out before suddenly all clicked together, and Lemon and I realised he was well on the way to becoming the Stable's leader. And he didn't like it one bit. I did say this keeps happening to me.

Nimblegait is a rather obvious Littlepip parody. Not only does this little mare actually love her job because she's fascinated by all old world tech, but as insult to injury... she did get a mural. This mural also served to show the Stable's hopes of finding a healed world out there, as the many picture books and even movies showed them. And, obviously, the mural was made by Spray Paint.

In the Fimfic comments I was asked why Lemon never looked into repairing his pipbuck, and I had answered that he honestly didn't care about it. Well, he might not have cared, but Nimblegait obviously (and obsessively) did. So now the pipleg thing is somewhat usable again. As flashlight and radio, at least. Lemon mostly just used the new possibilities to switch off the staticky screen, and then forgot all about it. Also, even back here I decided that if he ever were to use the monitor as lamp he'd get a really annoying electric buzz through his leg.

Nimblegait casually refers to Lemon Frisk as "Lemon Zest". This is, in fact, not just a reference to Moth's Souls-Sounds-Sights story. The name first came up when I was brainstorming on what to call my protagonist. I really don't remember if Moth was actually there when that happened, but he later chose to use that name for a character in his story. He had already done the name confusion joke in Souls, so it was rather obvious that I had to do that too at one point.

Musing over Rambo Apple's cutie mark, Misty makes a small sneaky reference to Crashing Waves, the protagonist of my one-shot story A Second Chance. While writing A Second Chance, I definitely intended that connection, even though it's unlikely I'll ever go deeper into it.

And finally, Apple Twig shows up, and gets chewed out by Misty. I hid an awful, awful joke in that rant, that I don't think many people noticed. Misty said the two of them would share a nice bottle of apple cider. Knowing what Night Eight revealed about Lemon's physiology, and Misty's intended way of abusing that peculiarity... Yeah. She went there.

DAY TEN

Living Together

As I mentioned before, this was the second time my own story caught me completely off guard. Apparently, in a Stable where marriage doesn't really exist, moving in together with the intent of starting a family is, well, pretty much the same thing. One of the funny things about Lemon Frisk is that he's someone who can figure out things really quickly, but only if he knows there's actually something to figure out. Which is also why he stupidly missed the fact he could use Misty's pipbuck as map in Day One, and the fact the Guide was sold in Hayden in Day Three. If he just makes an assumption instead of trying to figure things out, he's often dead wrong. It probably won't be the last time that happens.

There was just one detail about that marriage stuff that didn't sit right with me, and that was the fact Rambo Apple never mentioned it. But that was easily remedied by some local tradition / superstition to consider it bad luck to congratulate people on moving in together before their first night. Seemed plausible enough to me, and it immediately explained why Misty got so angry when her Big Night threatened to be interrupted by Apple Twig, and why Apple Twig was so apologetic about it. Really though, crashing someone's wedding night? That's so not done.

Then, there's the part I dreaded almost as much as the fight scenes in Day Five and Day Seven: finally dealing with the political mess. Again, to my own surprise, Lemon actually ended up accepting the position he dreaded so much. That stallion really can't make up his mind. And he was equally indecisive about what he wanted Vector Field to do. Really, was it any surprise he finally gave the job to Rambo Apple? I saw that one coming a mile away. Then again, I got a discarded draft of the end of Day Nine lying around where he did it a fair bit sooner.

Lemon Frisk mentions 'game theory' when talking to Apple Twig. As Wikipedia can tell you, this is the study of strategic decision making in the field of economics. In other words, efficient management through the use of mathematical models. It's a subject I've briefly touched upon at school. Lemon Frisk, being a crisis manager, obviously should have knowledge about these kinds of things.

In the end, Lemon kinda cheats by giving Apple Twig some rough instructions on improving Stable security, and then trying to sneak out. It almost worked, too, but in the end he still had to use the "honeymoon" excuse to actually get her off his back. Poor Apple Twig... she never asked for all this extra stress. Sometimes I really feel sorry for her; she's really just doing her best. Doesn't help that she's the only WRD member I actually specifically named; it kinda makes it seem like she is the WRD, in the story. I assure you, she isn't; she's just the one with the unenviable task of communicating their decisions to Lemon Frisk.

Oh, yes, and I couldn't stop giggling at the fact that someone who is called "Rambo" thinks a twitchy little guy like Winter Gale is a badass mofo. Heehee. Have I mentioned Winter Gale is my Fluttershy? Because he totally is. My action hero Fluttershy.

On to the Gang. The names of Amaretto and Absinthe were quite clearly chosen as descendants of the Forefather Crème de Menthe, a distiller and overall party pony. Spellbinder is not only a descendant of the Forefather Rune Shimmer, the thaumatologist, but is also a reference to the Australian parallel-universe-adventure series of the same name. Tome Keeper is just Tome Keeper. I dunno, folks! She barely says a word!

Oh, and "I'm not afraid!" / "You will be" is obviously from Star Wars. Not that Lemon is all that Yoda-like. It just seems like a very drill sergeant thing to say.

For the rest, I did a few silly references to the first chapters of TDU. Lemon looking at the open Stable door is copied directly from the intro chapter, and his thoughts about the "lack of raiders, manticores, radigators, and deranged secret project zombie cyborg ponies" was from Day Four. Of course, both pieces were adapted to the situation at hoof.

And finally, at the factory, we have a reference to Wheaton's Law: the meaning of life, summed up as "don't be a dick". Thank you for that piece of excellent wisdom, Will Wheaton!

DAY ELEVEN

Urban Wildlife

This chapter finally gives more insight into Top Bitch. I wanted to return to this character a long time ago, and, in fact, I had the whole graveyard scene written up from back in Day Seven. But as we all know, the visit to the graveyard got severely sidetracked by the whole thing with Petal Luck. So now I finally got to implement that scene. It's not often I can take a whole prewritten scene and just use it without any major modifications; usually the circumstances surrounding a prewritten scene changed so much I just end up rewriting it completely. In this one, though, I wrote the whole first half of the chapter around that one prewritten scene, much like I wrote the Flitter chapter "The Father and the Son" around the way Flitter's son recognised his father. (If you haven't read Flitter yet, what are you still doing here? Go read it!)

The fact I already knew where I would be taking this chapter also allowed me to start with another dream-flashback, which is always nice. Sure, he has a perk now that says he'll be zoning out less for flashbacks, but that obviously doesn't apply to actual sleep. And since he knew they were finally going back there, it's quite understandable that that would be going through his mind. The flashback was actually based on the old scrapped description of the things he remembered in the shower scene in Day Seven. I decided to seriously shorten that list to leave some stuff to tell later, and it looks like that paid off here.

And then there's TGIF-1. Finally! I had this guy planned as third party member since forever! I used to roleplay this guy in the Tavern of Broken Dreams irc channel a lot, to get a good feel for his character. Unfortunately, that seemed to have had the completely wrong effect. See, TGIF-1, after months in the Tavern, was not the character he should be in his first appearance in the story. He developed a healthy dose of snark and insight into ponies there that just didn't work for him here. So when I started writing the meeting scene he was just all... wrong. I think I got at least three completely different versions of that meeting scene lying around in my scraps. It took me a while to figure out what the problem was. Once I managed to reset him to factory defaults, however, the scene wrote itself, as I'd imagined it in the first place. This guy would be an eternal source of annoyance for Lemon Frisk. Mua ha ha haa.

TGIF-1 is obviously "Thank Goodness It's Friday" or something along those lines. It was totally meant to be a backronym, with the original acronym a clear indication of the motivation levels of his creators. The "Tee-ghif" vs "Tee-jif" discussion is, of course, a nod towards the pronunciation controversy around a certain popular graphics format.

On to part three of the story: spiders. If you don't know what a jumping spider looks like, go google it now. They're fricking adorable. I deny any accusations that the idea of an arthropod companion is stolen from Tales of a Courier, by the way. Yup. I deny everything. Totally. On a completely unrelated note, Zippo is awesome. On a note that is related, I first got acquainted with jumping spiders after seeing this image of the jumping-spider-fied Mane Six. D'aww <3

Now, to go over those sneaky little references I left throughout this chapter. Gotta catch 'em all!

The sub-title is a direct quote from the credits song from Mirror's Edge. Not only is that one of my favourite games, but the credits song in question (Still Alive, and no, not the Portal one) is one of my favourite songs, too.

Adventurers that keep coming back for the same books is an obvious stab at the fact that the stat-boosting magazines in the Fallout games are, bizarrely enough, one-time use items. Kkat did exactly the reverse joke by having Littlepip pass on some of her books to Calamity, while remarking that "it's not like these things can only be read once".

The word "fabber" to refer to an "automated fabricator" is blatantly stolen from the webcomic Schlock Mercenary. If you like humour and sci-fi that makes sense, and have a few months to plough through the archives... hop right in.

On another webcomic-related note, if you read the webcomic Girl Genius, you might have recognised the sneaky use of a certain expression its authors are rather fond of using. If you don't, I strongly recommend following this elegant and finely-crafted link.

DAY TWELVE

Living On The Edge

Both the chapter title, and the sub-title, are direct references to the final cutscene of Mirror's Edge. The chapter title's relevance to the actual chapter is, of course, that the Diamond Dogs live on the edge of the city. Though, feel free to find some deeper meaning in it. On this day's title image, you might notice Lemon Frisk's frown is back. As I said, TGIF-1 will be an eternal source of annoyance for him. Mua ha ha haa. He gets over it by the next chapter, though.

The Misty-covered-in-spiders scene at the start was written right after I finished Day Eleven. Lemon's jinxing, the fact TGIF-1 was asked to "keep watch" rather than "stand guard"... it was all very deliberately done to lead up to this scene. And it was all for the purpose of getting them an arthropod companion. All right. I admit it. In my defence, this was actually purely because of me finding out about jumping spiders, and not so much about Zippo from Tales of a Courier. Still... Zippo is awesome.

Next on the list: the inevitable scene where TGIF-1 proves his uselessness, and Lemon and Misty confront him about it. I knew this scene was necessary at some point, but I had envisioned quite some different scenarios for it. Raiders, ghouls, maybe even Steel Rangers. But, in the end, it turned out to be Bloodwings. Because, traditionally, sewers indeed always contain nasty things. Who am I to break such a wonderful tradition?

Oh, and while I really don't keep track of weapons and ammo much, the fact Lemon carries most of the non-food items did come back here. Yay for continuity!

TGIF-1's visor colours thing should've been clear to everyone by now. And yes, I got some document with a nice list of them. The end of the chapter even shows a new one. As Day Fourteen explicitly mentions, green is colour-code for him actually being enthusiastic or even amused about something.

Like the green colour, the minigun is a legacy from the Tavern of Broken Dreams role play which I decided to keep. Someone in the comments actually thought he still carried that megaspell in there, and indeed did not have a minigun, but him disliking the balance recalibrations needed for deploying the gun was just another joke from the irc. In the end, Day Thirteen revealed what happened to the megaspell, and Day Fourteen finally revealed the minigun itself. The fictional "GAU-3" designation for the minigun is the one used in the manual of Command & Conquer.

As they find another piece of blue wreckage, Lemon gets a new clue on what really happened to the city. Solaris was involved. Dun dun dunn. With this hint I mostly revealed what happened, but of course I still had a few surprising details up my sleeve to tie it all together.

After briefly reminding Lemon and Misty that chatting and musing on old mysteries is not a good idea in the middle of a ghoul-infested city, with a callback to the shoot-ponies-in-the-face reflex from Day Two, we get to meet Buoyant Waves. I was actually on the fence about whether to actually introduce him as character, or just make Lemon Frisk sing yet another one of his songs. Since Lemon Frisk's first mention of Buoyant Waves included a claim that the ghoul singer had a discography larger than any pre-war singer, it was pretty much inevitable that I'd include more ghoul songs. But, yeah, in the end I decided to let this Pony Santa Claus make his appearance in person. Ho, ho, ho. It's entirely deliberate that Buoyant Waves, despite his depressing-as-hell songs, is a really jovial and good-natured fellow. He puts all his depression in his songs, after all.

In case you missed it, "Radroach is good eatin'!" is a horrible reference back to Arbu in the original Fallout: Equestria story, where they said the same thing about 'radigator' meat. Luckily, when cracking open a grilled radroach leg you can be pretty sure it's not actually pony meat inside.

On to the Diamond Dogs! This was pretty much inevitable. Lemon's little tirade and the Diamond Dog elder's response to it... didn't go as I envisioned them, at all. But yeah, the point was pretty clear; back in the war, they got Lemon there not only to fix a giant mess, but also gave him the rather unenviable job of informing the Dogs that, as insult to injury, their now-depleted mines were also poisoned. Yaaay. No wonder he was annoyed about it. The Dog's reply caught me slightly off guard. That is one clever and diplomatic dog, there. At the rate that fellow was going, it was no surprise I eventually had to get off my ass and actually think up a name for him other than Old Rebar Dog.

Other fun things in this chapter: TGIF-1's mention of a "mishap with a food generation talisman", more specifically one generating 'grain paste', is obviously better known as "The Noodle Incident". And the name TGIF-1 chose for their eight-legged companion, "Jolly Jumper", is a wonderfully ironic reference to the Belgian western comic "Lucky Luke". The irony is in the fact that Jolly Jumper is the titular character's horse.

DAY THIRTEEN

Life and Unlife Situations

Whoo. This was a long one. Was planned to be even longer, but I decided to rearrange the time line a bit and make it end when they got out of the missile silo. But yeah... this was the chapter where it all starts to come together. Where Lemon and Misty actually find out what destroyed the city, and already get some important clues towards finding out exactly what the blue radiation is. It's also the chapter where I introduce some wasteland-horror-elements of my very own, namely the ash ghosts.

Odd fact there: I had originally written out the whole missile silo exploration with just Misty and Lemon. It was only when I encountered the ash ghouls that I found it a real pity not to show off just how horrible my horrors were. To which someone on the #FalloutEquestria channel remarked that that was what redshirts were for. I had a severe lack of redshirts, though. What I did have, however, was the promise made in the story description about meeting "overzealous rangers", together with the most awful name joke ever. So I decided to introduce the good old Overseer-Chaplain Donut Steel.

If it wasn't glaringly obvious from the chapter's author's notes already, Donut's name was an obvious reference to "ORIGINAL CHARACTER DO NOT STEAL!". And the names of the other Steel Rangers weren't much better. "Strawberry Suit", the ranger that was already dead when they arrived at the silo, was obviously just a thinly disguised "red shirt". Thanks to DrarenThiralas on the irc channel for the names of the other two poor hapless rangers. In case you didn't get it, "Bacon Mail" was "meat shield", and "Boom Feed" was "cannon fodder".

I had actually somewhat planned Donut Steel to be a recurring antagonist... but that would require him to escape, and if that had happened there was no way they wouldn't have gone straight back to the Stable to warn them about the steel rangers. And I didn't want them back at the Stable; I wanted the city investigation finished before they'd get into any more Stable politics, dammit! So instead, I gave Misty a little introduction to the concept of wasteland justice.

Oh, right. Referring to Donut Steel as "asstard" is a silly little nod to the comic Casey & Andy, where the main characters are referred to as such all the time, to the point it became somewhat of an honorary title. And... it just seemed to fit Donut Steel, somehow.

On to the revelations. From the very start, the missile that made Stable 69 close early was meant to be one of the three missiles Celestia destroyed over Whitetail Woods after she fled from Canterlot. Sure, they all seemed to go to Canterlot, but who says one of them wasn't meant to go beyond the mountain? The big revelation of what did destroy the city was actually meant to be the grand finale for the story, but in the end I decided to spread it all out a little, since they simply didn't have all information in one place.

What else do we have here? Oh yes... TGIF-1! Finally, the story elaborates on that detail I made up ages ago in the Tavern role play channel. His obsession with zebra posteriors actually earned him the nickname "plotbot" there. The fact most zebras in that place happened to be female probably didn't help his reputation, either.

And then there's Pinkie Pie. Because, hey, if you're building a super secure bomb resistant bunker for the army, why not expand it a bit to add a bunker for the Counter-Espionage branch of the government, while you're at it? That's efficiency, you know! Anyway. As I mentioned in the first Commentary chapter, I had a scene planned in the beginning of Day Four where they would meet a sprite bot and it would give Lemon a peculiar message. Now, I never throw away scrapped scenes, and for a very good reason: the first part of Pinkie's message in this chapter is pretty much completely copied from that old scene. I had to change the second part, though; the original message was Pinkie basically saying he was looking far too glum, had to get his 'spark' back, and had to stop ignoring Misty. None of that really applied anymore, so instead she congratulates him on his marriage.

The only thing I really changed in the piece of the message I copied was the final part, which was originally "No, no, don't answer that; keep it a surprise." The changed version instead ends with "Spoilers, you know", which, to anyone who has seen the series, is an obvious Doctor Who reference. Heh. Ever since I watched that, I can't see the word "spoilers" without hearing it in River Song's voice.

DAY FOURTEEN

Livin' La Vida Loca

Finally. The big revelation chapter. As I said, the whole "what blew up Whinnyapolis" thing was actually planned to be the big end point of the story; it tied up practically all loose ends previously thrown around. Scorch Mark, the Shard, the blue glow... it all boiled down to this. This chapter finally reveals why it exploded, and what kind of megaspell created the blue glow and its Ash Ghosts. But, it's not the end of the story; there are still some loose ends to tie up back at the Stable.

In this chapter, we see the final pokémon evolution stage of that shoot-ponies-in-the-face-reflex gag, and Teegee's foal care database returns with a vengeance. I don't know if anyone caught it, but the "It looks like you're trying to decide how to handle a delicate situation!" was a reference to that horrible Microsoft Office Assistant paperclip and its brand of 'helpful' advice. Though, Teegee did actually manage to help.

Note that the stuff I said about dreams is not to be taken as fact, at all. I just pulled that out of my ass, and didn't do a single minute of research on it. It's perfectly possible that the best course of action when dealing with nightmares is actually to wake up the person in question. I have no idea!

Once again, Misty's Panic Power Boosts are briefly mentioned. I actually had a scene planned earlier in the story where she went pretty much Avatar State inside the city as she was lost in her panic, and Lemon had to calm her down while also dodging debris falling from buildings that were being crushed by a giant expanding sphere of telekinesis around Misty... but that scene was never even written, because they met Teegee before going into the city, and then immediately acquired Jolly too, and those two changed the whole dynamic of the group, making Misty far less prone to panic. Still, I'm satisfied with the way all that progressed; Teegee was supposed to be in the group a lot sooner anyway. The aftermath of that lost scene also included a permanent-marker-applied-to-cutie-mark gag though, a concept I reused for Doctor Tombstone.

Then we get the radroach scene, in which I managed to revisit another one of my old gags: the broccoli. This one actually originates in Pink Eyes, which has a town named Broccoli, after its sole produce. Fog Light and his love for the vegetable in Day Five was already a direct reference to Puppysmiles' dislike for it. (Seriously. What's wrong with that kid? Broccoli is awesome.) Misty wasn't even there in that scene, but we can safely assume Lemon told her about it somewhere between then and Day Nine, when Lemon kickstarted the actual broccoli gag on what would turn out to be their wedding night.

Like with the dream scene... I have no idea about accurate radroach anatomy, so please don't go out into the Wasteland with nothing but a knife and attempt to stab them in the neck, okay?

Then they get to the Solaris facility and the turret gag. As I've mentioned before, Mimezinga's requirement for using Solaris was that nothing they made ever worked right... hence the auto-cleaning rust piles.

At long last, we get to the Mad Doctor himself! Tombstone was meant as direct reference to The Living Tombstone and the song "September". I had that one planned out for ages. The first reference to the Mad Doctor was in Day Eleven, but I had the video saved in my writing folder from all the way back in April 2013, around the time I published Day Eight. When I actually wrote out the scene, though, the "September" reference never really worked right, partly because neither MLP nor FO:E ever mentions month names. And then I was reminded of the existence of Doug Rattman. Since SolOS and Solaris Inc. were already Portal references anyway, this seemed like the ideal way to solve this problem. And indeed... making Tombstone a muttering cackling paranoid madman hiding from SolOS worked wonderfully.

The phoenix idea was, in fact, not thought up when they visited Scorch Mark. In fact, it wasn't even formed yet when I wrote about the blue glow and the Shard at Dead Farm. I'm not sure exactly when the whole idea started coming together, but it was probably around the time I made up and fleshed out Whinnyapolis. The idea of a phoenix dying above water going into a stasis-egg isn't actually mine, though. I have Moth to thank for that; he thought it up for his wonderful illustrated diary story, Wings.

Oh, and since this chapter was all about the Mad Doctor, obviously I had to get a title that contained some madness.

Whew! Lots of information, references, scrapped scenes and insider info there. I hope I didn't forget anything. And now, I guess it's time I start brainstorming on the end of the story. The big end reveal was a bit of an anticlimax, and completely intentionally so, but I do still have some stuff planned after this to make a decent finale. I'm just... well, honestly, I'm not sure if I should go through with it, because it's a rather... awful idea. But the Chekhov's Guns for it are already in place, so... guess I don't have much choice. Ah well. You'll just have to wait and see, and hope it won't take me half a year again.

Footnote: Maximum level reached. Please buy our DLCs!

Day Fifteen - The Circle of Life

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DAY FIFTEEN
The Circle of Life
you get some, you lose some

Misty Cloud woke up from someone fumbling around with her pipbuck. She looked up, straight into two sickly yellow eyes set above a slightly rotted nose in a leathery, wrinkly face.

She reached up and gave a kiss on said nose. "Hey." She glanced at her pipbuck. "What are you doing?"

"It beeped," Lemon Frisk replied. "Didn't wake you up, so I thought I'd see if I could take a look without disturbing you." He smirked. "Looks like that failed."

Misty looked through the broken window of the building they'd used as sleeping place and saw it was already light outside. "Ugh. What time is it?"

"Mid-morning," Lemon said. "Can't tell you more; I still can't navigate that blasted thing."

Misty sat up on her haunches and examined her pipbuck. "Right. Let's see what we got here." She tilted her head. "Huh. It says I have a status update in my physical profile."

"What?"

"I don't know. Never seen this before. I just hope I haven't soaked up too many rads."

Lemon shook his head. "I doubt it. We were really careful, and you always made sure to take your meds."

Misty stared at the screen, her mouth hanging open. "Wha—" She blinked. "Tha... that isn't possible! I'm not even... Not to mention..." She suddenly frowned and tapped some buttons. She read the text that appeared on the monitor and shook her head. "Wait, wait. So that'd be just after..." She nodded slowly. "Oh, wow. That's... um." Her head sagged down as she looked at Lemon Frisk. "Um, Lemon?"

Lemon rolled his eyes. "Spit it out, Misty."

"You know when you asked me whether I was in my fertile cycle, when we just met?"

Lemon Frisk's eyebrow slowly raised. "That... was mostly a joke, but, yeah?"

"I was fairly sure I wasn't... because it had just ended."

Lemon Frisk opened his mouth, closed it, and then tried again. "You're..."

Misty nodded. "Pregnant."

"From... Big Apple."

She nodded again. "Turns out it takes a few weeks before a pipbuck can detect it."

Lemon blinked. "Oh, wow." He frowned. "So, um, about that genetic... incompatibility... um, between Big Apple and you?"

Misty shook her head. "No, no. They said 'future generations'. It shouldn't cause any problems for this foal. It just means this little one shouldn't have foals with any Stable Sixty-Nine ponies."

"Right. So, you're having a foal. Holy crap."

"Um." Misty gave him an unsure look. "You don't look all that... thrilled."

"Oh!" Lemon looked up at her. "Nononono, don't think like that! I'm just overthinking peripherals, as always. This is great! It's just, with that on the way, and the genetics thing... it'd be better if the kid didn't grow up in Stable 69. Y'know. More chance of not hooking up with somepony there. But I accepted their position there, which would most likely mean we'll remain there. And, I'm suddenly kinda thinking Apple Twig was right, about her choice of honeymoon destination... you know how poorly I reacted to putting you in a risky situation before, and now—"

"Lemon!" Misty interrupted him. "You're rambling."

Lemon nodded, and took a deep breath to calm himself. "I know. It's just..." He smiled. "I'm gonna be a dad!"

"Technically incorrect," TGIF-1's voice interrupted them. "Misty Cloud is going to be a mom."

Lemon Frisk smirked. "Your definition doesn't seem to include adoptive parents and other fringe cases. Update it. A parent is a person who raises a child, not necessarily one who conceives one."

The robot's visor flashed blue. "Updated. You ponies remain interesting."

Misty noticed Blinker leaning in the door opening, frowning at them. "What?" she asked.

"Hyu ponies iz tu opteemist. Cub iz nuttin til iz born vit four gud legs und tvo gud eyes. Iz not cub fer long time."

Misty glowered at the dog. She was about to get up to yell at him, but Lemon held her back. "They don't have rad meters," he reminded her. "Meaning, miscarriages, mutations and stillborns. They have no choice but to accept that. It's reality."

Misty's glower turned to shock. She sagged down and nodded. "You're right." She glanced at Blinker. "Sorry."

"Hyoo tek gud ker uf eet. Mek shure eet vill be a cub. Bot dun be sad vhen eet dun get dere. Life goez on."

Misty nodded, not looking up at the Dog. She was out of the Stable now; this was the harsh reality of the wastelands, and she realised that just like the Diamond Dogs, she had to accept that.

Misty stiffened up for a moment when she felt something touch her back, but relaxed as she realised it was Lemon Frisk hugging her. She leaned back into his hug and smiled. "Thanks. I needed that."

* * *

The group walked outside. With the city's old mysteries mostly solved there was really nothing more to do around there, so their next destination would be the place Lemon had started thinking of as "home"; Stable Sixty-Nine. Lemon couldn't help glancing back at the Solaris Inc. laboratory complex, though. He slowly shook his head.

"Still thinking about that megaspell?" Misty asked. Jolly was once again sitting on her head.

Lemon nodded. "It's just... ugh. Not what I expected."

"What, you expected some grand secret plot to blow up the city?" Misty said with a smirk. "Smuggled megaspell parts, betrayal and espionage?"

Lemon chuckled. "Maybe? It happened in some cities. What happened here just seems so... dumb."

"The whole war was dumb, Lemon. You should know that; you were there."

"I guess."

Misty nuzzled his neck. "Come on, gloomy pony. Lighten up. You're still here and so am I." She smiled at him. "No matter what happens next, let's just enjoy that while it lasts, okay?"

"That's the kind of stuff ponies in stories say before one of them gets killed," Lemon remarked.

Misty looked at him with a defiant look on her face. "Yeah, well, screw those ponies, and the pony that wrote them!" She narrowed her eyes and smiled at him. "You're not getting rid of me that easily." She punctuated the "that" with a poke in his side, causing him to whinny in surprise.

"Yaah! I thought we passed that stage?" he asked in mock-indignation.

Misty gave him a sly grin. "Don't bet on it, ghoul-pony!" She circled around him and lunged in for another jab, which Lemon deftly evaded.

Lemon grinned, keeping his head low as he circled with her. "You may be able to catch me unaware, but that's all you'll get, lady!"

"Oh really?" Misty asked, lowering her head to the same level. The two circled around, looking straight in each other's eyes. Suddenly, Misty shot forward and kissed him on the mouth.

Lemon pulled away from the kiss and frowned. "I sincerely hope you weren't planning to use that as diversion tactic. I could bite your tongue off if you tickle me while doing that."

Misty stopped circling and frowned as she straightened up. "Oh. Um. Right. That'd be bad, I guess."

"Very bad," Lemon said, nodding. "You, without the ability to talk?" He smiled. "You'd be poking me all the damn time!"

Misty just stuck out her tongue in reply.

The couple suddenly became aware of the other two people in the group looking at them. Lemon was slightly surprised to see Blinker looked mostly amused; he'd have expected annoyance from the mostly-stoic Diamond Dog. It looked like their newest member was lightening up. The Dog's almost-constantly swivelling ears and occasional glances to the surroundings made it very clear that said 'lightening up' didn't come at the cost of his vigilance, though. The only time Lemon had seen the Diamond Dog truly relaxed was inside the Kennel.

TGIF-1 seemed to have no reaction either way; his visor showed its default blue colour, with no flashes or changes in brightness. The equoid was either still focused on his night job of guarding the perimeter, or he was simply too busy browsing through his newly unlocked data.

"Zo..." Blinker said, raising an eyebrow. "Ve leevin, den?"

Misty smiled. "Yep! All ready to go!"

"Got my pokes quota for the day," Lemon said. "Let's get going."

* * *

As they came closer to the Stable the terrain around them became increasingly familiar. They had passed the place where they had taken out the pipbuck-carrying ghouls and made their way through the suburbs. When they approached the edge of the city, Misty's pipbuck gave a sharp beep.

Lemon raised his eyebrow. "You having twins, now?"

"Oh, shut up," Misty replied with a smirk. She looked at her pipbuck, and the smirk turned into a frown. "Huh," she said. "It's alerting me of... a system update." She looked at Lemon Frisk.

"Nimblegait," they said together.

"Looks like she got that wireless system working," Lemon said, "and we're close enough to the Stable to receive it."

"Nifty," Misty said as the update installed. "I guess that means we can receive messages on this thing now." She had barely finished saying that when a new message appeared.

"Live channel request pending. Priority: Urgent"

Lemon looked at the screen with a grave look on his face. "Open it."

The pipbuck's screen showed blocky static, and then showed a fuzzy green-tinted image of the pipbuck maintenance room, with a pony facing away from them. A beep startled the pony, and as he turned towards the camera they recognised Vector Field.

"Misty Cloud? Lemon Frisk?" Vector Field said. "Is that you two? I only got audio; pipbucks don't have cameras on them."

"Vector...?" Lemon asked. The Overstallion looked distressed. "Yeah, it's us."

Vector looked relieved. "Oh, thank Celestia, it finally got through! Anyway, no time for pleasantries. We got Steel Rangers in the Stable!"

"Crap!" Lemon said, grabbing Misty's leg and pulling her pipbuck towards him. "Give me a status!"

"We, uh, got lucky so far. Nopony was actually outside when they arrived, and, you know that device Nimblegait installed at the Door to check unpatched pipbucks? Well, they apparently thought it was a defence system or something, and blasted it right away. The guard ponies inside reacted immediately, and everything's been on lockdown since this morning... but two of their armoured rangers got in before it was closed. They're currently locked inside the main hall, but it probably won't take them long to hack through the Door's locks and open it again."

"Dammit, dammit!" Lemon Frisk cursed. "Of course Donut's squad wasn't the only one looking. I should've known!"

"Vector?" Nimblegait's voice sounded faintly. Vector Field looked up and turned to one of the monitors on the side, holding a hoof up at the camera to indicate to Lemon and Misty to hold on for a moment.

"I got them on broadcast," Vector replied. "Misty and Lemon Frisk are in the loop."

"Nice! Looks like those two tin cans have cameras on them, and are broadcasting to their buddies outside. Layer your feed to Lemon and Misty with the frequency I'm messaging to your pipbuck."

The two listening ponies heard an almost evil-sounding chuckle from Nimblegait.

"Let's put on a show."

The image switched to what Lemon and Misty recognised as similar to a pipbuck HUD with EFS, but with loads more information on the side. They realised they were looking at the HUD of one of the ponies in power armour. He was currently looking at a small security monitor attached to the Door controls. Again, the image was all greens, though, since Misty's pipbuck monitor was unable to show any other colours.

"We're going to need some time on this, ma'am!" the soldier said, apparently communicating with the outside. "Whoever locked this thing was no amateur. This isn't standard Stable-Tec encryption." No response was heard; apparently that wasn't included in the feed Nimblegait tapped into.

The faint sound of a door sliding open made the soldier look up. Nimblegait calmly walked through the door opening, her horn aglow with magic. The door closed behind her.

"Why, thank you," came her saccharine reply. "I had so much fun with that! I'm glad you appreciate all my hard work."

A series of clicks sounded, and the HUD showed some angry blinking status updates at the side. "What the hell...?" the soldier said. "Command, my weapons systems are jamming!" He looked to the second power armoured pony in the hall.

The other pony shook his head. "Same," he said, before turning back to the little mare. His stance lowered. "But I don't need weapons to take this little bitch."

Nimblegait chuckled. "It's so easy to disable weapons, you know. You just need to know exactly how they work, and exactly where they are located. Oh. Don't try your rocket launchers. Trust me on that one."

The pony whose feed they were following looked at Nimblegait again. She was grinning madly with a look on her face that could only be called 'predatory'. Her head lowered, and a glow enveloped the two saddlebags on her back. They opened, and a veritable swarm of tools spread out around them.

The camera jerked as the pony involuntarily stepped back from the bizarre threat. Then the tools shot out at him. He frantically looked around, trying to swat them away from him, and turned to his colleague for help.

"Sweet Celestia," he muttered as he saw his colleague's power armour disassembled before his eyes, the pieces sorted in nice piles until nothing was left except a frightened-looking earth pony with a screwdriver pinched against his jugular.

He looked around trying to find some way to escape, but the hall, while rather large, was one single space, and all the doors to the side were locked. He ran towards the one Nimblegait had appeared from, frantically trying the controls, but apparently she had been smart enough to lock it behind her again.

"Let me out!" the pony yelled in panic, glancing frantically behind him at the grinning mare and her swarm. "Oh shit... she's coming! Command! Get me the heck out of here! Oh Goddesses, somepony help me!"

Whirring and buzzing sounds were heard, and while the actual camera feed became a constant blur as the pony's panicked movements became more erratic, increasingly more error messages appeared around his HUD as components were expertly disconnected from their control systems.

Then, suddenly, the image shuddered and stabilised, and a shifting haze of magic was visible over the video. All HUD messages disappeared, and instead a large "DEVICE DISCONNECTED" message appeared in the centre of the screen. The helmet floated up and rotated around to face Nimblegait.

Cables shot out at the helmet and connected it with her pipbuck. She lifted her leg and read the information she received. "Project Steel Ranger, revision five, rocket launcher integrated model, serial number AJ223-502," she calmly recited. "Most components produced in Manehattan, final assembly in Trotsborough." While she talked, components from the suits floated towards her and assembled themselves, her tools working to rebuild the suit around her until the only things left uncovered were her head and the right leg sporting her pipbuck. "Hmm. Need to adjust the design to easily integrate with a pipbuck," she mumbled to herself.

She looked up and smiled at the camera. "I have two of your ponies, and two of your suits. Drill through that Door if you want, but you'll have me waiting on the other side." Her face turned into a manic grin. "And I'd love to add more to my collection." With that, the helmet turned around and floated closer, apparently being placed on her head. All HUD messages turned back to normal before the feed cut off abruptly.

A couple of seconds of blackness passed before Vector Field removed the feed and switched back to the cameras at Pipbuck Maintenance. He looked just as baffled as Misty and Lemon on the other side of the feed.

"She just..." the stunned Vector Field muttered. "Did... did you see that? That was..."

Lemon Frisk nodded, despite the fact Vector had no video feed from them to see it. "...excellent psychological warfare," he continued Vector's unfinished sentence, "but I don't think she can repeat that performance against more than two ponies. We need a plan."

"What assets do we have?" Vector Field asked. "Besides Nimblegait, that is."

"I don't think there's time to alert the Slags," Lemon said. "Not sure what they could do against power armour anyway. For the rest, we got, uh..." He looked at his companions. "A somewhat-giant venomous spider, a Diamond Dog, and a sapient war robot with motivational issues."

Vector Field gave them an incredulous look. "What?"

"I will not be used as offensive weapon," TGIF-1 cut in. His visor was pale blue. "This is merely a distraction on the way to the half-zebras. We could just skip it."

Lemon glared at the robot. "We won't. That's Misty's home, heck, it's our home, and we'll find a way to get those Rangers away from there."

"Lemon..." Misty cut in. "He's just scared. Those guys are about as armoured as he is, and they probably got weapons that can punch through armour like that."

Lemon looked at the robot's visor. Right. Pale meant uncertainty, fear. He wasn't used to thinking in terms like that when it came to robots, but TGIF-1 could hardly be filed in the same category as any normal robot.

"Right," Lemon said, turning back to Misty's pipbuck. "As I said, motivational issues. And, uh, probably well-programmed self-preservation logics. Teegee's not the self-sacrifice kind of guy."

"You're serious, aren't you?" Vector Field said. "You actually have a war robot there?"

"Equoid. Medium build. Not all that impressive looking, actually."

TGIF-1's visor flashed purple. "If that was an attempt to goad me into deploying my weapon system, it has failed. I am not susceptible to cheap psychological tricks."

Lemon smirked. "That would help, but no, it wasn't." He sighed. "This sure is a nice situation we're in."

"What about the pipbucks in Hayden?" Vector asked. "Maybe we could negotiate a trade?"

"That won't help," Lemon said. "These guys hoard technology. They're just interested in keeping it to themselves. Sure, Hayden would probably get their favour if they gave them those pipbucks, simply for the gesture, but if they found out Hayden had them, they'd just go in guns blazing and take them anyway."

Vector Field nodded. "Yeah, okay. That won't help. So, we need to take out or drive away a power armoured army of unknown size, before they manage to get through that Door." He shook his head. "We are so screwed, aren't we?"

"Are you sure we can't talk to them?" Misty asked. "I mean, Nimblegait's got these suits; so we should be able to broadcast to them at least, right?"

Lemon's eyes widened. "Broadcast..."

He frantically loosened the straps on his saddlebags and opened a zipper at the side. "We got a Canterlot broadcaster!"

"Lemon," Misty said, involuntarily taking a step back from the tiny device Lemon fished out of the bags, "isn't that the thing that makes deadly sound?"

Lemon nodded, a grim look on his face. "Or radio signal."

"Th-that's..." Misty shook her head. "That's mass murder, Lemon! You can't just murder them all like that!"

Lemon looked at his mangled pipbuck. "Well, no, I can't. Never worked on my pipbuck, in fact. They gave me one of these things because I went out of the Stable so much, but I never actually managed to get it working on this messed up thing." He looked at TGIF-1. "Can you operate it?"

"Negative," TGIF-1 said. "Solaris Inc. products cannot interface with Stable-Tec addons. Please purchase the equivalent Solaris Inc. addon. Do note that the use of third party interface conversion components to achieve interfacing anyway is against your End User License Agreement."

Lemon raised his eyebrow. "I'll... keep that in mind." He looked at Misty.

Misty shook her head. "Hell no. Lemon, you can't ask me that."

"And I wouldn't, normally. But we have no choice, Misty."

"There's always a choice!" Misty threw back. "We have two of their soldiers hostage! We could at least try to talk!"

"You saw Donut Steel! We're up against a whole group of these assholes!"

"I also saw Bacon Mail," Misty threw back. "She was a rather nice and reasonable pony."

"That's hardly relevant when they follow the commands of the assholes."

"Then they shouldn't!" she yelled, exasperated.

Lemon Frisk shook his head. "You haven't seen the army, Misty. You haven't gone through their training. I have. The first thing they teach you is to never disobey or question your orders. Ever. They might grumble, they might ask to change specifics, but they will never disobey. They're specifically trained not to."

"That's... monstrous."

Lemon gave her a sympathetic look. "Perhaps. But it's necessary for an army. The larger the group, the more chaos you get if every single soldier thinks they know better than their commander. That's just the way it is."

"Could you at least try talking to them first?" Misty asked. "They might be reasonable. You never know. You're an outsider, and your pipbuck is a piece of scrap. I doubt they'll come after you."

"There's no way in Tartarus I'm going out there without some decent protection," Lemon Frisk grumbled. He looked at TGIF-1.

The robot looked back at him. "You will not show me the way to these 'Slags' before this matter is resolved, correct?"

"Correct," Lemon said.

"Very well," TGIF-1 said. "Then I shall protect you."

"Um. If they hoard technology... won't they want... him?" Misty asked.

"I will keep myself close by but hidden unless he requires backup," TGIF-1 said. "Activating Stealth mode." The robot's stance lowered and his metallic cover shimmered, taking on the colours of the surrounding area. He wasn't quite invisible, but like a tiger hiding in tall yellow grass, he would be very hard to spot from a distance. The robot's head turned towards Lemon, the pattern on it shifting along as he moved to hide the movement. "Is this satisfactory?"

Lemon gaped. "That's... pretty impressive." He looked at Misty. "I'll try talking, but you need to be ready here to activate the broadcaster in case it goes wrong, okay?"

Misty gave him a resigned look, but then frowned. "Didn't you say that thing made a noise that kills everything? How am I supposed to even safely connect it?"

Lemon Frisk fiddled with the broadcaster and found a little switch on the back. "Yeah, but it has a broadcast-only mode," he said. He grabbed the tiny switch in his teeth and flipped it. "There. As long as it's set to transmit radio signals but not give any sound, it should be perfectly safe to use." He looked at her. "All we need now is a frequency. Vector, you still listening?"

"Still here," Vector Field said from Misty's pipbuck.

"I'm not sure if we can keep this channel open while configuring the broadcaster, but... can you get Nimblegait to give us a frequency?"

As if on cue, the door behind Vector Field opened and the diminutive mare walked into the pipbuck maintenance area. "Vector?" they heard her ask in the background. "You still got them on the line?"

Vector nodded. "They're here. And they got... some kind of plan."

Nimblegait took Vector's place at the controls, and Lemon quickly explained the plan. She shook her head. "They cut me off. I'm not getting back in their comms any time soon, sorry."

"There might be another way," Lemon said. "There's a secret emergency frequency I had access to back in the days, which should open automatically on any of the Steel Ranger suits if the correct password is sent on it first. Unfortunately, my password for it is about two centuries old. The suits you got should have a more recent one, though."

"Can your device even broadcast such passwords?" Nimblegait remarked.

"No, but I suspect Teegee here can. Heck, it's radio; you guys could do it. There's no real handshake procedure; just send the password and their radios automatically open the frequency. Then we flood it."

He glanced at TGIF-1. "Can you access this wireless broadcast thing Nimblegait set up?"

"Checking connections," TGIF-1 said. "Broadcast signal found. Correct encryption algorithm detected. Generating user ID. Transmitting."

Nimblegait nodded. "He shows up on my side," she said. "I'll link him in and send you his ID so you can talk to him like you could to any pipbuck, or this device I cooked up. Wow, I really want to see this guy!"

"I am capable of broadcasting video," TGIF-1 said, "but my immediate surroundings are unfortunately lacking in mirrors. Opening connections." Misty's pipbuck beeped to ask to accept the new signal. A faint echo of a similar beep came from Nimblegait's side of the line.

"You can do multiple?" Nimblegait asked, surprised.

TGIF-1 looked at Lemon Frisk, his visor glowing green. "I can now."

Lemon chuckled. "How to jailbreak your robot in three easy steps."

"Misty Cloud, Nimblegait, open my connection," TGIF-1 said. "I will keep transmitting your signals to each other, but add my own video and audio."

"Group conversation!" Nimblegait said, excitedly. "I should totally add that as feature!"

"Later," Lemon Frisk said. "Get the password first." He looked up from Misty's pipbuck to the mare herself. "Misty, I'll keep in contact with you through Teegee. I'll try to talk to them, but... when Teegee unlocks that frequency, you have to activate the signal before they realise what we're doing and shut it off again. We won't have long."

Misty nodded numbly, resigning in her role. "They're not gonna talk, are they?" she whispered. "Oh, Celestia. We're going to kill all of these ponies." She looked at Lemon Frisk. "Life really isn't fair, is it?"

Lemon Frisk shook his head and hugged her. "No... it really isn't. I'm so sorry about this." He let go, and started walking towards the gravel flat, the camouflaged robot following closely behind him.

* * *

"Two neutral signals approaching, ma'am!" one of the power armoured rangers yelled. "Five o'clock."

A cloaked pony nodded and looked behind her. "Looks like a tribal of some kind." She frowned. "A ghoul. What about the second signal? I don't see anyone else."

"No idea, ma'am," the power armoured pony said. "Maybe it's just some bug floating around. But they seem to both go towards us, in parallel paths."

"I don't like it. Keep an eye out."

"Yes, ma'am!"

The commander threw back her cloak and looked at the oncoming ghoul. "State your business, tribal!"

Lemon Frisk raised his eyebrow. "Tribal, huh? Dunno why you guys keep calling me that. Ain't never been part of any tribe, far as I know. Stable pony, sure. Ghoul, definitely. But, tribal?"

The commander gave him a suspicious look. "Are you from this Stable?"

Lemon Frisk shook his head and smiled. "Oh, if only! To be in there, two hundred years ago... hehe. Surely you've noticed the number."

The mare glared at him. "I'm in no mood for jokes, ghoul. So, you're not from this Stable. Where are you from, then?"

Lemon's eyes widened, and a smile crept onto his face.

"Ohh," he said, walking into the group of Steel Rangers. He spotted about two dozen of them. "You wanna know where I'm from!"

The rhythm just popped into the air. Some of the Rangers looked around looking for a threat. Others seemed to have seen this kind of thing before and just nodded knowingly. Lemon Frisk just smiled. He'd worked for Pinkie Pie, after all. This stuff was daily routine to him. Two centuries of Wasteland couldn't erase that part of ponies. Music just... happened.

Circling around the Steel Ranger commander, Lemon Frisk began to sing, with an odd accent in his voice.

(melody: Arabian Nights, from Disney's "Aladdin")
(Listen to TGIF-1's recording of the song)

Oh I come from a city that's rather insane
Where most terrible monsters live
Where the air melts your lungs
And the noise melts your brain
And which hangs from the side of a cliff!

Where the winds carry pink over streets stained in brown
From the blood of the ages past
So come visit, we'll meet
In some Canterlot street
And I'll wonder how long you will last!

Those Canterlot streets, with their Canterlot jive!
Yes, just like this fool
Turn into a ghoul
Forever alive.

On Canterlot streets, with that Canterlot sight!
Some tool in a suit
Would wish he were nude
Entombed in that blight!

The commander shuddered visibly. "Canterlot..."

Lemon Frisk nodded. "Canterlot!" he said, motioning to the mountain in the distance.

"It's on the other side of the mountain," one of the armoured rangers mumbled.

"So what's your business here, ghoul?" the commander asked.

"I am Lemon Frisk, Ministry of Morale crisis manager. I am currently the acting commander of Whinnyapolis operations for the Equestrian Military, investigating the destruction of this city." He smirked. "And, no, I'm not some old delusional ghoul. I've made quite some progress, in fact."

He looked at the Commander, who, as he expected, looked thoroughly unimpressed. He continued, "This Stable community is under my protection. Leave this place, and you might see your two captured comrades again."

"We don't negotiate!" the commander hissed. "They know their job and their duty!"

"Oh, your comrades are safe," Lemon Frisk said, shaking his head. "They aren't out here with me." He glared at the mare. "I am not bluffing. I am not joking. And I need no army to take down all of you. I warned you about the place I'm from. These horrors are a part of me. And rest assured, in the event you kill me, it won't change a thing. So, please, leave."

"You have nothing to back up your claims," the mare threw back. "You're not making a very good argument."

"I realise that, but I was asked to try, at least," Lemon Frisk replied. "Unfortunately, I have only one card to deal, and it's the one that kills you all."

"I'm calling your bluff," the Commander said.

Lemon Frisk sighed, and shook his head. "Then there is nothing more to talk about. Activate it, Misty."

The commander looked up. "Shit! He's got associates! Find that second EFS signal!"

* * *

Misty's hoof trembled as it approached her pipbuck. TGIF-1's feed from the scene had shown her Lemon's message, and by now the robot himself had no doubt already sent the password to open the frequency. All she needed to do was activate it... and kill two dozen ponies. Just like that.

Shaking, she pulled her hoof away. "Oh Celestia... I can't just... I can't..."

* * *

"Commander!" one of the Steel Rangers said. "Secure comm channel MOM-1 just opened!"

The commander's gaze narrowed as she looked at Lemon Frisk again. "Ministry of Morale crisis manager," she growled. "Sensory attack! Block it, now! All of you!"

Lemon stumbled back, into the gravel hills at the side of the Stable entrance. "Misty!" he yelled, hoping TGIF-1 would still be around to transmit what he said. "Oh fuck."

The commander grabbed a heavy revolver from her holster with her mouth and shot Lemon Frisk in the head. The side of his head blew apart as the explosive ammunition did its job.

* * *

"Lemon!" Misty yelled as she saw the events unfold on TGIF-1's feed. She pressed the button to activate the radio signal, but it was too late. "No! No, no, no... This isn't fair..." She looked at the Stable in the distance. "Oh Celestia. Lemon!" She scrambled to get up and run out to him, but was tackled by Blinker.

"Dun go dere. Hyu dun need ta die too."

"I just killed him!" she yelled.

"Hyu be qviet," he said, pinning her to the ground. "Dey dunno ve's 'ere. Ve's too far. Dun let dem know."

* * *

Tactical Guardian and Infiltration Fighter number One was a highly skilled stealth war machine. When the bullet was shot at Lemon Frisk, TGIF-1 was already in motion, though not a single one of his simulations could see the pony survive. TGIF-1 was simply too far away from him to do anything.

Correction: the pony in question is already dead. Despite this fact he remains of interest. Preferred course of action is unchanged. Protect.

The robot jumped at Lemon Frisk and pulled him behind the large gravel heaps. His outer cover immediately assumed a gravel texture, camouflaging the both of them.

"The ghoul's gone!" he heard the commander shout. She was of secondary concern. TGIF-1 focused his sensors on the body below him, and was rewarded with two overheated processors and a splitting headache as a strange magical force pulled the half-exploded head back together to its original decayed state.

Lemon Frisk groaned. "I... didn't need those Prench lessons anyway," he mumbled quietly. "Ugh. What did she shoot me with?"

"Explosive bullet, in the head," TGIF-1 said, whispering. "The plan failed." His visor flashed red, then yellow, then returned to its original blue. "Backup plan initiated."

"There was no backup plan, Teegee," Lemon said. He frowned and looked up at the robot. "You can't take them all on alone."

TGIF-1 looked Lemon Frisk straight in the face. "I will not." He got up and swept a hoof over the side of the hill to push some of the gravel over Lemon Frisk's body to keep him hidden. He looked at Lemon one last time, his visor flashing blue rapidly for about ten seconds before shifting to a pale orange state. "I don't know what this will do to my system. I closed all communication channels and sent Nimblegait my data. Take good care of it."

"Teegee?" Lemon asked, hesitantly.

"I can play a radio signal," TGIF-1 said as he walked towards the Rangers.

Lemon's eyes widened. "You can't handle magic!" he hissed. "That signal is magic!"

"Indeed," TGIF-1 replied as he calmly walked on. Facing away from Lemon, the robot's visor turned to white static, and as he emerged from behind the gravel hill, the deadly noise of Canterlot was released at full volume from his speakers.

* * *

Blinker winced as his sensitive ears picked up the faint necromantic sound from their hiding place. "Eet's heppenink," he said. "Dun turn eet off."

"What? But the rangers closed—"

"Iz de robot."

Misty turned her head to the forgotten video feed on her pipbuck, only to find it deactivated. "Oh, of course. He can receive radio." She frowned. "Why didn't we think of that in the first place?"

"Hy dunno. Dun get op. De noize eezun't moch 'ere, bot hyu heff cub. Dun tek de risk."

Blinker stared at the gravel flat, occasionally wincing at a particularly nasty frequency in the faraway noise. He kept watching until only one chromed figure was still standing upright.

"Eet iz done," he said.

Misty switched off the broadcaster and ran off towards the Stable. "I have to find Lemon!"

* * *

Lemon Frisk struggled to get out of the gravel in which the robot had more or less buried him. The robot had made it look easy, but Lemon felt like there was half a ton weighing him down. Luckily he didn't appear to have broken any bones in that stunt. He walked out to the gravel flat and looked around.

It was a massacre. The commander was lying at his feet, her bleeding eyes rolled back in her head, and an expression of pure agony on her face. The rest of the area was filled with ponies in power armour, either slumped down or plain keeled over. He saw blood leaking out of the air filter of one of the fallen ones.

In the middle of it all stood TGIF-1. No sound came from the robot, but his visor still had the same white static as when he had started playing the deadly broadcast.

"...Teegee?" Lemon asked.

Slowly, the robot moved. Small flecks of blue appeared in the static in his visor. He looked up at Lemon Frisk, and a blast of necromantic noise shot out. His visor white with surprise, the robot took a jerky step back and stopped the noise. Grinding sounds came from his gears as he turned around in a stuttering movement, facing the pony and Diamond Dog running up to them. Green specks appeared in his visor this time, but a faint murmur of necromantic death was immediately silenced. He looked at Misty Cloud and Blinker, then turned back to Lemon Frisk.

"Teegee," Lemon said. "Oh no..."

"Lemon!" Misty yelled as she saw him standing. She rushed out to embrace him. "I... I saw you die!"

"A few bullets won't kill me," Lemon said, hugging her back. "Though I admit, she got close."

"Your head was blown open!" she shouted.

"Sure was. That Zebra necromancy sure is potent stuff."

"Dammit," she said, leaning her head on his shoulder. "Don't scare me like that again."

"Misty... we're not out of this yet," Lemon said, nodding behind her.

Expecting a living Steel Ranger, Misty jumped back, only to see TGIF-1 standing there, his head bowed down, and his visor full of static.

"What happened?" she asked.

"He..." Lemon shook his head. "I don't know. He transmitted the broadcaster noise. He shouldn't have done that. His systems can't handle it. He's still in there, but when he tries to speak, it just gives that noise."

"I switched that off!" Misty said, double-checking her pipbuck. The broadcaster wasn't even attached to it anymore.

"It got into his buffers, somehow," Lemon said, reaching out a hoof and touching the robot's nose. He looked at Misty. "He can't process it. He can't analyse it. He can't fix it. It's magic."

Misty looked at the robot, standing there forlorn in the middle of a field of death, his head bowed down. He looked... sad.

"Can't we... get him back, somehow?"

"I don't know, Misty," Lemon said. "It shouldn't be permanent; he wasn't actually exposed to the Pink Cloud. Just the radio broadcast. We just need to find a way to clear it from his system."

A beeping from Misty's pipbuck interrupted them. It was Nimblegait, again calling them from her little communication hub in Pipbuck Maintenance. Misty answered the call.

"We're here," Misty said, knowing Nimblegait didn't receive video. She looked around at the Steel Rangers. "The attackers..." She swallowed, hard. "...are all dead. It worked. But Teegee's hurt."

"Teegee? Your robot?"

"He's not our robot!" Misty yelled. "He's his own... he's our friend, dammit."

"He got damaged?" Nimblegait asked.

"Not physically," Lemon cut in. "The deadly noise is inside his system. We have no idea how to get it out."

"He sent me some files, just after he shut down the comms channel," Nimblegait said. "I haven't looked into them yet, but maybe they hold a clue?"

Lemon Frisk sighed. "I'm fairly sure I know what that is. And it probably won't help us."

Misty frowned. "Surely he wouldn't..."

Lemon gave her a sad smile. "You said it yourself. It's his life's work."

"What in Equestria am I looking at?" came Nimblegait's puzzled question from the other side of the line. "They seem to be... vectors. Patterns. Lines."

Lemon Frisk raised his eyebrow. "Not pictures?"

"Pictures? No, this is all mathematical and analytical data. Pictures would take hours to transmit through the wireless interface."

Lemon chuckled, and looked at the robot, whose visor showed some green specks. "Of course. Only the data ever mattered. No pictures. Just stripes. I should've known."

"We'll get you back, Teegee," Misty said. "I promise."

The robot didn't respond, but flecks of blue buzzed strongly through the static.

* * *

Before the large door had even fully opened, Nimblegait squeezed through, a cloud of tools, wires and terminals trailing behind her in the glow of her magic. She looked at the robot and stopped.

"Oh, wow!" she said. "That's just..." She frowned. "...rather unimpressive, actually. We should put him in power armour."

"Right now, we shouldn't put him in anything, except a safe place away from living ponies," Lemon Frisk said. He looked at Blinker. "Uh, and Diamond Dogs."

Nimblegait nodded, but still walked up to TGIF-1. She squinted as she looked into the staticky visor. "Right. Memory buffer, probably. We'll need to flush it." She looked at Lemon Frisk. "How do you interface with him? I don't see any access points. Heck, he doesn't even have a mouth."

"There are cables hidden inside his mane," Lemon said. "I've seen him take them out in the radar facility."

"Ah." Nimblegait put down the things she was carrying and used her impressively fine telekinesis to take control of the robot's mane. As if charged by static, a part of it spread out in all directions, revealing a number of different thicker pieces within. She scrutinised each of them. "Those are some really non-standard connectors. Annnd this one seems to be a fluid dispenser of some sort. Huh." She looked around and spotted Blinker. "You there! Yeah. Can you give me a claw, here? Those things can do stuff even my telekinesis can't."

Blinker raised an eyebrow and pointed a claw at himself. "Hyu vonts me?"

Lemon Frisk smiled. "If anyone can help you out with that rad meter, it's her, Blinker."

Blinker nodded. "Gud. Hy help."

"We'll leave you to that, then," Lemon Frisk said. He turned back to Nimblegait. "Be careful, though; this stuff is magic. I doubt you can just erase it from those buffers; you'll have to either release it or transfer it to something else. Do remember, it's deadly noise."

"Ooh. Transfer," Nimblegait said, grinning madly. "I didn't even think of that. Necromantic death in a box! Innnteresting!"

"Not really," Lemon Frisk said with a frown. "We still got the original broadcaster anyway." He walked into the open Stable Door, with Misty following closely behind. "And I'd prefer if it were never used again," he mumbled to himself as he walked in.

"I disagree with you on that," Vector Field said to him. He wasn't the only one waiting for them, either. Apple Twig was obviously there, too. For once, Lemon Frisk found himself actually looking forward to talking with her.

"We're not using that as defence mechanism, Vector Field," Lemon said. "I don't want anyone to have the power to kill every pony in front of that door."

"You have it," Vector Field threw back. "And it clearly worked."

"It poisoned my friend!" Lemon spat. "And Misty was the one who activated it."

"I only did it because I thought they killed you," Misty said to Lemon. "I really didn't..." She glanced back at the door and squeezed her eyes shut. "Oh dear Celestia."

Lemon looked at Vector Field and Apple Twig with an apologetic look on his face. "I'm very sorry, but it seems we'll have to continue this conversation later. Right now, our resident shrink needs to have a mental breakdown in the privacy of her own home, supported by her husband." He nuzzled Misty's cheek. "Come on, Misty. Let's go home."

* * *

Lemon Frisk and Misty Cloud were lying down on their bed. Misty was sobbing. Lemon was content just to hold her, letting her process the horrors at her own pace. He was somewhat glad the Rangers had been in power armour; at least she wasn't hit with the full gory scope of the situation.

"You didn't see Teegee's feed after my head regenerated?" he asked softly.

Misty slowly shook her head. "I... I saw that mare pull the gun. Teegee drew lines on the video feed showing his prediction of the shot, and then, a second later, it all played out as he'd shown. I freaked out and activated the broadcaster. Teegee had started moving, and the video feed was a jumbled mess, so I just got up and tried to run out there. Blinker stopped me. By the time he'd calmed me down, the feed was broken."

She sat up on the bed and looked at him. "You can really survive getting your brains blown out?"

"Not... really," Lemon admitted. "This was a really, really close call, and I'm glad Teegee was there to give my body a chance to regenerate. She was using exploding bullets, and she didn't look like she'd take any chances with a Canterlot ghoul. She'd have shot me in the head until she'd been sure I wouldn't 've gotten up again."

Misty hugged him. "Dammit, I almost lost you. I freaking committed mass murder for you."

"Technically, Teegee did it," Lemon pointed out.

Misty's head sagged down. "At least Teegee got to do the whole heroic sacrifice thing while he was at it. I just pressed the big red button."

"I really don't get that," Lemon said. "He had a fairly good idea of what it would do to him, and he still did it. Why?"

"Let's hope we get to ask him soon."

Lemon nodded. "Nimblegait's a clever mare. She'll figure it out."

"It keeps happening, though, doesn't it?" Misty said morosely. "Killing ponies keeps being the only way out."

"Nimblegait didn't kill those two inside," Lemon said, a faint smile on his face. "That's something, at least."

Misty leaned back on the bed. "Vector was right, though."

"About the Broadcaster?" Lemon sighed. "Maybe. The Steel Rangers are a large organization. They'll hear of this. We'll have to deal with them again, some way or another." He kissed her on the nose and leaned back as well. "But we'll worry about that later." He smiled at her. "No matter what happens next..."

Misty returned his smile. "...let's just enjoy this while it lasts?"

Lemon Frisk kissed her on the mouth. "Yes. Let's."

* * *

Misty and Lemon's bedroom door flew open with a bang. The two shrieked and stared at the chromed robot that had invaded their intimacy.

"Teegee!" Lemon Frisk shouted. "How the hell did you get in here?!"

"Nimblegait violated my End User License Agreement," the robot said enthusiastically, his visor a happy green, "and attached an interface converter to my connector, which allows me to interface with Stable-Tec components!"

Lemon Frisk blinked. "...What?"

"I hacked your door," TGIF-1 explained. "It took approximately one point two-three-six seconds."

"Ugh!" Lemon growled. Misty just laughed.

TGIF-1 ignored their reactions and rambled on. "I am happy to report that the obstruction outside has been eliminated. Shall we leave for the half-zebra settlement soon?"

"Dammit, Teegee!" Lemon shouted. "Get out!"

"Wait, wait!" Misty said, managing to keep her laughter under control. She looked at the robot, and her face became serious. "Why did you broadcast the signal, Teegee? It could've destroyed you."

The robot's green visor shifted back to its default blue, and his voice went back to its default monotonous drone. "I follow you two around because you are interesting. My assessment of the situation indicated that you were both going to die unless I broadcast the signal."

"But... why did you do it?" Misty asked.

TGIF-1 turned around to leave, but looked back at them.

"You two are more interesting than I am."

With those words, TGIF-1 left the room and closed the door, leaving the two stunned ponies to the privacy of their bedroom.

~~== THE END ==~~

Footnote: Level up! Current level: 16.
New Perk: Pony-Cyborg Relations (level 2): Yup. You're stuck with him. Sorry about that, folks.

Fallout Equestria: The Daily Unlife

by Nyerguds

Introduction - When Life Gives You Lemons

Day One - The First Day of the Rest of Your Life

Day Two - Live and Let Live

Day Three - What’s the Point of Living If You Can’t Feel Alive?

Day Four - Living the Dream

Day Five - The Life of the Party

Day Six - This Stable Life

Day Seven - Do You Want to Live Forever?

Week One - Commentary

Day Eight - The Time of Your Life

Day Nine - The Bright Side of Life

Day Ten - Living Together

Day Eleven - Urban Wildlife

Day Twelve - Living on the Edge

Day Thirteen - Life and Unlife Situations

Day Fourteen - Livin' la Vida Loca

Week Two - Commentary

Day Fifteen - The Circle of Life