Dead Rising: Lens of West

Chapters

Prologue: From Colorado To Nevada To A Whole New World
Blind Arrival
Pale-Blonde Horse-Thing
A Shy Individual
Just When Things Were Looking Up
Rainbow Hashtag
Frank West: Dancing Troll Extraordinaire

Prologue: From Colorado To Nevada To A Whole New World

Willamette was not just the beginning.

During the outbreak at Colorado, I had no idea just what I got into. I've seen people die. I've seen people leave my side, only to return in a coffin. I never doubted reality and played by its rules well enough to live through the wars I've covered.

But the beginning of an outbreak was not like the beginning of a war. Only one term defined the horrifying moment of an undead sinking its teeth on a healthy human being.

Genocide.

"Horrible" did not describe what I saw in the mall. People died to things that were not human. They died in vain, hopeful in surviving but failing to do so. The zombies not only added living beings into its massive, mindless army, but they also made us monsters as well. Our darkest pleasures rose to the surface, and we started killing each other more efficiently than the zombies did. Just when humanity should have cooperated, humans gave into their guilty desires and only worsened the condition of the Earth.

People died. So did the morality within me.

I've taken lives to save lives. It was neither the right choice nor the wrong decision; I simply did what I believed was correct. No one ever called me a hero back when I first visited Willamette. After all, I was no soldier for any cause until I became determined to spread the truth behind Willamette's outbreak.

Carlito Keyes served as a catalyst for my own realization of what I should have done. His thirst for revenge fueled my adrenaline to spread the truth. The government tried to spoonfeed death to the Willamette Mall's survivors, and I knocked away that spoon as soon as I could.

And I eventually let out the truth.

Things became good for me. People praised me as a hero. The survivors whom I saved spread the duties I've done to pull them out of harm's way. I even got awards for not only eradicating enough zombies to make room for survivors, but for letting out the truth behind the Willamette Outbreak to the public. Everything was good, everyone was happy, I became a hero, and I got my reward for being a hero.

It all fell down when I let things get to me. I became corrupt in a sense. The feeling of euphoria from fame and wealth made me distance myself from why I had become famous in the first place. What started out as a simple quest for a handful of money turned into an ambition I could not control. I became a slave to greed and paid the price for it by losing everything I earned.

Things looked up when I went to Fortune City to contend at that one gameshow called "Terror Is Reality." Never really was much of a big fan, but I did what I could to get money. Ironically enough, my quest to get a handful of money turned into a mission to figure out a mystery involving an outbreak that eventually erupted in Fortune City. It was like Willamette all over again, except this time, the Fortune City Outbreak was a chance to make up for the wrongs I did.

I saved survivors. I took lives when I needed to save lives. Everything I had done at Willamette, I did at Fortune City. But when I gave a horrible man no chances in saving himself, said man turned into a zombie and prevented me from leaving the elevator to my ride. An explosion engulfed me and a zombified TK within the elevator, and my life went blank.

The story of Frank West supposedly ended there, I guess.

...

...Now, you may wonder why this story of mine is still on-going. But you know, sometimes, I remember that I could be one hell of a lucky bastard at times. Death seemed to hate me a lot, I'll tell you.

My story never ended at Nevada.

And holy hell, you will not believe the next chapter of my wild life. And if you do believe it...

I truly thank you for being one hell of an audience.

DEAD RISING
LENS OF WEST

Prologue
From Colorado To Nevada To A Whole New World

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...Hm?

A starry field floated above Frank West.

The chaos at Nevada had prevented him from ever relaxing, so when Frank found himself facing thousands of stars, he felt his body loosen. His eyes groggily widened as he stared at the cosmos.

Was he dead?

Frank pinched his cheek; it was a habit of his to check on whether he was at reality or within a dream. A jolt of pain did not change the scenery before him, much to his curiosity.

...Where am I? The photographer thought as he stood up from the grass he lied on.

Tall trees surrounded him, and darkness lurked within the lush forest he stood in. Only a ray of moonlight brightened his location, making things seem less intimidating.

Turning around, the man began to search for any signs of life, only to hear nothing but a soft wind brushing past him. He still had the rough suit attire he wore during the majority of his stay at Fortune City. Heck, he even had his camera with him.

His camera.

Good God, if my camera is busted, I swear I'm gonna-

With great haste, Frank West checked the condition of his camera, only to find that it worked perfectly fine.

...Okay, that's a huge relief. But what's going on? The photojournalist thought as he looked up once more.

No seriously, what the hell am I supposed to do right now?

Indeed, he had no idea on what to do, especially when he suddenly woke up at a forest he never recalled visiting before.

Frank slowly began to go down what appeared to be a rough dirt road crafted within the thick forest. He was unaware of just what kind of world he got himself into.

Soon, he would discover the unearthly wonders that awaited him.

Author's Note

And I'm back.

This is a complete remake of Dead Rising: Off-The-World! It features better grammar and a more detailed portrayal of Frank West himself. Everything planned has underwent major changes. Aaaand TK died. (He couldn't risk it all)

Just a heads-up, this takes place in the Dead Rising 2: Off The Record like Off-The-World did. See you soon.

-MMM-

Blind Arrival

The cool night only made Frank nervous to a small extent. He felt very curious, however, as to where he exactly was.

Fortune City obviously did not have a large forest from what he remembered. Trees loomed over him, the skies soared as silently as they could, and the stars glistened effervescently. No star field compared decently with the vast scene that rested above him. Judging by the brightness of the stars, Frank concluded that he was not in a city.

That was also where the most important question, “Where am I,” jumped into a dead-end in its journey for answers. Frank really had no idea as to where he was. He had experienced getting knocked out by certain people and suddenly finding himself in a different location, but he doubted that something like the military would drag his unconscious body out into an open field. If the stars shined so brightly, then he must have been taken to a location very, very far from cities.

So where was he?

Walking down a dark path by himself, Frank West whistled in an attempt to keep himself a little less nervous. And it worked, for he soon found himself indulged in whistling down the path that carried him to wherever it led to. All he wanted was for the path to lead into some town. Anything, really.

…Except for zombies. Or psychopaths.

Frank sighed.

What the heck, he thought worriedly as the path continued to lead him deeper into the forest. How deep am I in this stupidly large forest?

The photojournalist sighed. Out of all places he could find himself after getting caught in an explosion within an elevator, he ended up in a forest with no signs of life.

A handful of minutes rolled by, and soon, Frank finally found a sign of life. He walked up to a signpost within the dark path. Due to his dark surroundings, he had to turn on the flashlight attached to his camera in order to properly read what the sign said.

Ponyville.

…

…That’s really funny, Frank thought, mentally flipping a bird at the skies as he stared at the sign post.

“There is a place on God’s Green Earth,” Frank muttered out loud, “called Ponyville.”

The photojournalist did not know whether to scream in frustration or laugh out of confusion. Thus, he decided to do both, first laughing before screaming with agony tinted all over his voice.

It took him a while to control himself, but he eventually did find the ability to keep his cool.

Actually, no; he did not find the ability to keep his cool.

What on Earth were these people thinking when they named this place? Frank thought, admiring the intensively original minds of human beings. There were so many things they could have come up with, like “Horse Harbor” or some random shit like that, but noooooooOOOOoooooo, it had to be Ponyville out of all god-forsaken names.

Life just keeps getting weirder and weirder the more I travel...

It seemed that Frank had no choice but to go to the strangely named town.

Again, the road for shelter was a boring and tedious one. No matter what he tried to occupy himself, he always ended up encountering boredom at its finest. Nothing dangerous came out to hurt him, nothing awesome came out to impress him; all he saw was a single road that seemed to have no end.

Okay, maybe a zombie or two would actually help me out here, the photojournalist thought sarcastically as he cracked his neck.

Frank West never did receive a zombie in the end.

Instead, he got a road that suddenly sank through the ground.

“…?! What the- WHOA!”

Barely reacting to the path that crumbled into an empty void, Frank kicked the ground and pushed himself away, landing roughly on his back. His eyes widened, the zombie-killing photojournalist watched the dirt road that used to sit so silently get pulled into a dark vortex.

“This is some Star Trek shit I’m seeing here!” Frank screamed to himself. The man raised his camera and snapped a picture of the black hole, despite the fact that he was in a tight situation. It had become a habit of his to simultaneously take pictures and save his own life in many dangerous situations.

With several shots of the vortex taken, the startled freelancer crawled back before getting up on his feet. He backed away from the road that continued to crumble in front of him.

And soon, the vortex began to consume the ground beneath Frank West much faster than before.

His eyes widened as he reacted swiftly once more, kicking himself from a part of the ground that flew towards the vortex.

“Oh shoot. Oh nonoNONONOOOAGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!”

Soon, the man found himself torn off the ground. Tumbling into the vortex like a ragdoll, the photojournalist screamed as he lashed his arms out to grab onto something. Barely catching onto a tree trunk that coincidentally passed by him, the man yelled at the top of his lungs,

“WHAAAAAAAAAT’S GOOOOOOIIIIIING OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON?!?”

Frank West flew into the vortex, holding onto a tree trunk with his life at stake.

Pale-Blonde Horse-Thing

Heroes were neither forged nor born. The term “hero” was simply a common title among those who did something good for their society. Technically, heroes were not limited to war veterans, innovative engineers, and scientists who blast people into outer space. Even those who were remembered to be evil to the majority of the world’s people could be considered heroes to certain people; one decent example would have been Hitler, who was considered a hero to Germany until some touchy things happened.

Frank West was not a hero the world needed, but rather, a hero who was just sort of wanted. Even after his fame died, people wanted “Good Ol’ Frank” to clarify secrets that the government hid from its own people. He may had become corrupted by his glory, but some people still considered him to be a hero and wanted him to do something for them.

And that was exactly the reason why the term “hero” was not what it made itself out to be.

Heroes were not necessarily good people. Frank himself may have had a time where he felt determined to save others, but such thoughts merely appeared because he knew it was what anyone wanted to do. Then fame got to him, and everything people remembered him for vanished with amazing speed. If such people who could become corrupt were considered the greatest heroes of all time, then one would be justified to fear for what the next generation of “heroes” could possibly do.

He no longer wanted to be considered a hero for anything. Rather, he just wanted to make some money and put down certain secrets that could potentially destroy everyone.

The photojournalist opened his eyes, finding himself laying still with his back against the ground. The bright skies were covered with puffy clouds, and the wind that had once brushed past him became nonexistent.

“Ugh…”

Lifting his body up from the dirt ground, Frank West shook his head and reached out for his pockets. Much to his own surprise, his sunglasses remained perfectly okay even after he flew through some weird portal that threw him around. He decided not to question what fate allowed him to keep or not keep. Instead, he observed his surroundings.

Less trees, he thought with amusement. That’s already a good sign.

The man dusted his dirty suit before standing on his two feet. With one hand holding onto his camera, Frank looked around. There were certainly less trees in the area he now stood in, and he could see things better thanks to the presence of a sun. Unfortunately, there were no paths to guide him anymore.

And finally, wildlife had made its appearance! There was a lone, small horse staring at him with wide eyes and a dumbly open mouth. The horse-

Actually, it was not a horse. It seemed more like a pony than anything, considering how small it was.

A pale-blonde hor- pony with a strange pink mane stared at him, remaining deathly still. Frank raised an eyebrow.

…Hm. Maybe I should try horseback riding and take advantage of these situations, he thought to himself, the weirder side of his survival skills emerging yet again. He had done plenty of weird things even at Willamette, though he admittedly used some strange attacks against some zombies at Fortune City when the time did not call for them. Ever since his first Outbreak experience, Frank West learned how to utilize every single ounce of his creativity to fight even without weapons. He activated fireworks, stole guns, and even used golf balls to survive at both Colorado and Nevada.

Heck, he even used a tricycle to plow through waves of zombies at one point. He really did love it when he earned the chance to replace his tricycle with an actual motorcycle, however, as it not only stopped survivors from doubting his sanity, but it just made him look better.

The photojournalist also tried his hand at wrestling with the zombies. Thanks to some explosive results, he had used the wrestling moves quite often until the strange gas-zombies appeared at Fortune City.

Clearing his throat, Frank shooed away the four-legged creature from him, still holding onto his camera with one hand. The pony remained still, however.

…

A bit irked at the fact that there was a strangely colored mammal staring at him, Frank shooed the creature away with more strength put into his hand motion. When the pony did not move from him, he rolled his eyes as he started walking towards the mammal.

“Do I need to play you a Song of Time or something? What’re you, Epona?”

Frank shook his head, stopping in front of the pink-and-yellow thing as he shooed with both of his hands this time. “C’mon. I have a bad memory with horses chewing at my camera.”

The young mammal seemed a bit frightened, for it proceeded to back away from Frank when he took several steps towards it. In fact, its face looked quite emotional. It… It looked…

Frank remained still as he watched the horse make an expression that resembled that of horror.

“…”

It took him a few seconds to finally smirk.

“…Actually,” he said as he stopped shooing the pink-and-yellow thing away, “that face looks freakin’ hilarious. Lemme snap a picture.”

Now that he thought about it, there were no pink-and-yellow horses, but who the heck was he to know all of the animals on Earth? What was he, a zoologist? Heck no. But he was a photojournalist- a freelance photojournalist- and taking pictures of interesting things was his thing.

Raising his camera with two hands, the man snapped a picture.

Click!

The noise the camera made seemed to stir the pony up from its shock, as it soon backed away from him even further. Seeing that as a sign of his little playtime ending, Frank let go of his camera, letting it hang around his neck as he muttered to himself,

“Looks like it’s gonna stop horsing around my business… which is a good thing, considering how I’m gonna try figuring my location out.”

Turning away from the creature, Frank began to walk blindly into a group of trees without a single crap given about what just happened. As he walked, however, he heard a soft voice.

A very soft voice.

“…? Huh?”

The photojournalist turned around.

The only thing that stood before him was a pale-yellow hors- pony.

…Oooooooooookay then, the dark-haired man thought as he turned away from the creature to start walking again. I hate you too, Mother Nature.

“…Who…”

This time, Frank surely heard a voice. The man whipped around, his mind fully awoken from its once lazy state. Someone was there for sure. Maybe he was at someone else’s property? That actually made sense, especially if that someone was really rich. And if he was on a rich person’s property, then that could explain why there was a pink-and-yellow pony. Perhaps the pony belonged to that rich person’s daughter or androgynous son or something.

He personally just wished that there was someone around to make some form of contact with him.

“Hello?” The freelancer called out, slowly taking a few steps towards the creature as he glanced around his surroundings. “Is anyone there?”

No response. A few trees rustled against each other.

“…If I’m intruding in any of your property,” he continued with a loud voice, “then I’ll apologize! We can talk this out.”

His eyes failed to catch any notable figures popping out of the trees around him. Now that he thought about it, there were more trees at the direction he initially planned on heading towards.

“Who are you?”

He heard it again.

A voice.

A voice capable of speech.

“What was that?” Frank asked out loud, turning around in an attempt to search for the soft voice’s owner. “I can’t hear you!”

“Who are you?”

The photojournalist turned to the creature’s direction.

He swore he heard something come from its direction.

Where…?

“W-Who are you?”

Frank froze.

He swore he saw something really odd.

He… saw the pony’s mouth open and synchronize perfectly with a person’s voice.

How could one teach a mammal how to mimic the movements of a person’s mouth?

What was…?

“M-My name is… Fluttershy,” the pale-blonde pony said with a timid tone. "Who are... you?"

Frank West screamed with a pitch higher than a castrated Justin Bieber’s pitch.

A Shy Individual

America! Land of the free! Woo hoo!

Boy, it surely did have one heck of a history. Boy, it surely did solve every problem it faced! Oh, golly! There were too many solutions America could come up with for every single problem! Ohhhhhhhhhh boy! Ohhhhhhhhhhh man!

…

…If that really was the case, then for the first time, the stereotypical image of America being able to solve any problem would have been ruthless torn apart when Frank met a talking horse.

Talking horses… Now where did he hear that from?

Oh right- Animal Farm. What’s next? Napolean shows up in my camera and tells me that he’s always right? What’s going on? What is that thing? Holy crap, why is this scaring me more than a zombie outbreak?

Paralysis never felt so tormenting. Having taken a few steps away from the pale-blonde pony, the photojournalist shakily raised a hand, pointing at the creature accusingly as if it committed some grave crime.

“You… talked,” he muttered after a fairly long period of silence.

“I… did.”

“Yup.”

Unable to stand the situation, Frank raised an arm as if to protest about something before lowering it without saying a word. He paced around, checked his camera, and even cleaned his sunglasses for once in an attempt to wake himself out of what seemed to be a frightening nightmare.

This really could be one of my craziest nightmares ever, the two legged photojournalist thought grimly, though he felt a bit relieved to know that his puns were as fresh as ever.

There were zombies. Then there were Convicts, Looters, and Psychopaths, and then there was the military. Then there were gas-zombies, annoying game show hosts, and a flat-chested undercover agent that killed a good man, Sullivan.

Frank was fairly certain that talking horses did not come after undercover agents.

He could already tell that something was extremely wrong in different ways. Sure, the talking creature was already a big deal, but there was also the concern of where he actually was. With the way things were at the moment, even the most ridiculous of answers actually seemed plausible to his questions on where he was.

Wait.

“You there,” Frank said, his eyes settling on the pale-blonde thing. “Are there more of your kind around here?”

“…Yes.”

Yup. The world had gone nuts if it contained talking horses.

Of all things, there were more talking horses than the number of solar eclipses that occurred every few years.

And now that he looked at the creature in front of him a bit closer, he noticed that there were strange feathers sticking out of its sides. He did not even want to think about the strange mark imprinted on the pony's body.

…

This, he thought as he slowly got a gist of what really could be his situation, is nuts. It’s so nutty, I can literally hear the squirrels shouting "Hey, fuck you" by the corners of these trees.

All of a sudden, everything felt unreal.

“Where am I?” The photojournalist asked the thing known as Fluttershy.

As if a bit happy to clarify where he was, the strange mammal (which he assumed to be a Pegasus) quickly, yet softly whispered to him,

“You are… on Equestria.”

“And what is this… eQuest thing?”

“It is the world we live on?”

Frank let his knees collide against grassy ground, clutching his head as he swung his torso forward. Holding a rather fetal position, the sunglasses-wearing photojournalist shook his head.

He was right, as much as he wanted to deny it.

He was no longer on Earth.

But wait! There was a chance that the horse was just shitting with him. Attempting to be as optimistic as possible, the photojournalist decided not to overthink the situation.

…He found it impossible not to overthink his current location, however.

“God dammit,” Frank mumbled as he shook his head. “This is totally nuts.”

Turning to the pale-blonde Pegasus, who seemed to cower under his gaze, the man walked up to the creature. Each step he took caused the pony to shrink before him, which he eventually took note of and stopped moving towards her.

Oh yes, and he was smart enough to detect that the Pegasus was a female judging by the delicacy of the creature.

“Tell you what,” the photojournalist said, instinctively raising his hands at waist level. “If you can open up portals or some crap like that, can you just… send me back to my home or something?”

Fluttershy tilted her head.

“Where would your home be-“

“Earth,” Frank abruptly answered, his patience starting to get at him. “Planet Earth. You know, home of all sorts of good and bad things? Milky Way?”

The pony frowned as she shakily shook her head. “I don’t think Ursas are planets,” she whispered.

At this, Frank raised a hand by his mouth as he whispered back, “I don’t think I said ‘Ursa,’ you clever little thing. I said ‘Earth’.”

Much to his dismay, the Pegasus did not seem to know what the heck Earth was, as she unknowingly shook her head.

“There are people like me around, right?” Frank asked, starting to get desperate to get at least a single ‘Yes’ from the talking pony, but again, Fluttershy shook her head. “Is there anyone who resembles me at the very least?”

Fluttershy softly shook her head once more. “There are some who resemble the way you move, but they look very different from you… mister…”

The photojournalist moaned as he threw his arms up in the air. Clutching his face, he turned away from the pony and remained standing still. There were punishments he deserved every now and then, but he- from all that is either holy or damned- did not deserve some sort of divine punishment that delivered him to a world with no people.

Why?! Frank thought with frustration, his clenched teeth about to leave grinding marks against each other. God, this is confusing and troubling to think about!

At last, he was unable to contain his frustration to himself. The dark-haired man kicked the grassy ground as an impolite word mumbled its way out of him.

It turned out that the world he stood on did not want to leave him alone, for he soon heard the soft voice of the pink-and-yellow mammal nervously whispering to him,

“Do you have a place to stay at? You do not seem like you’re from here, mister.”

By impulse, Frank would have flipped his crap and stormed away from the creature, but her words rang true. He did not have a place to stay at, and he was clearly not a horse. With that said, he had no idea as to where he was, and ignoring the advice of what could be a native to the world that he ended up in might end badly for him.

There were plenty of people at both the Willamette Mall and Fortune City who cared little about the miracle shelters known as safehouses. While he did manage to persuade plenty of survivors into getting into the safehouses, some of them simply persisted in indulging themselves to selfish desires and never lived to see the light of the day again. From then on, he knew one thing for sure; no matter how mentally and physically strong certain people were, if they rejected shelter, things never went smoothly for them. It was common zombie outbreak knowledge to actively look out for safe shelters.

The photojournalist took a quick breath, calming himself down. He needed to think about making less conversations and more action- actions that could establish a safe place he could temporarily borrow to ponder over things.

“I don’t know any place I could stay at,” Frank West admitted. “Hell, I don’t know if there is a place to stay at out in this stupid forest. Mind telling me some quiet places I could stay at for the time being?”

Much to his own surprise, it did not take long for him to accept the reality of him talking to a horse capable of speech. Maybe the insanity of zombie outbreaks really did get into his head too much.

“U-Umm,” Fluttershy fidgeted as she glanced around the trees before looking back at Frank. “You could stay at my house for a while. But there are some friends of mine that are very small and sweet…”

The man readjusted his sunglasses as he assured her with newfound determination in getting a place to stay at for the time being, “I don’t really enjoy touching small animals, and I’m a bit of a semi-vegetarian-“

…It sounded like the typical bullshit indecisive dietarians would make up, but it did make sense that he started enjoying vegetables much more than usual after seeing zombies eat his own kind.

The “animal peacekeeper” description, on the other hand, had a slightly more prominent sauce of bullshit on it because he never really allowed himself to go near a small animal in the first place. If anything, all he did was tame a tiger by throwing chunks of steak at it, and that alone made him feel like he deserved a medal.

“-so you don’t have to worry about me even thinking about hurting anything.”

Much to his relief, the pony seemed to accept his words carefully. With a shy nod, the pony softly responded, “I understand. We could talk more about how you got lost here, if you’d like.”

Finally, the conversation went to somewhere he was actually interested in. He wanted to get out of the damn world and get back to where he belonged in. If anything, he just wanted to believe that everything he experienced on the ground he stood on was just an extremely unique nightmare.

With a firm nod, the freelance photojournalist, lost in a world he never trekked through before, told the Pegasus,

“I’d definitely appreciate that.”

Just When Things Were Looking Up

Frank found the intelligence of the pony to be quite amazing. Not only did the creature know how to stay quiet, but it also seemed to be able understand that he was feeling annoyed.

Thankfully, the frown on his face slightly vanished when the pony’s home appeared. It looked fairly simple and much too small for him to actually enjoy living in. His camera in one hand, the man continued following the pink-and-yellow Pegasus as she whispered,

“This is my home.”

“Oh, wow, I really had no idea,” the photojournalist responded instantly with all kinds of sarcasm intentionally stuffed in his words. She did not seem to pay too much attention to his somewhat negative response, as she went over and opened the door.

The interior was as simple as the house’s outer appearance. A refrigerator lay on one side of the house, and several sofas were scattered around the place. Heck, there was even a tiny bed lying around the living room. Several tiny critters roaming around the house fled from the dark-haired man who followed Fluttershy.

That’s right, Frank thought. Fear the alien.

For some reason, he felt like an Iron Giant invading a feminine Hogarth Hughes’ home. Perhaps the feeling came from the fact that he towered over nearly everything.

Yup. He technically was an Iron Giant, considering how he could crack zombie skulls even without weapons. A warrior forged from zombie outbreaks, to be more exact.

He doubted that most warriors attached Bowie Knives to boxing gloves and fought like a Wolverine that burst out of a closet.

“Cool place,” the photojournalist admitted, noting how there was a surprising amount of details put into the structure of the house. There was a small hole by the wall where a rabbit leapt into. A fireplace was set up at the very center of the house, and convenient coffee table lay in front of a particular sofa.

“T-Thank you,” Fluttershy began, only to get startled by Frank’s next action.

Click!

His camera raised in front of his face, the photojournalist took several more photos of the house before lowering the object. An amused snort came out of him as he glanced over to the surprised pony.

“Mind if I take some pictures?” The man asked, finally showing a less grumpy side of his. “Photography soothes my mind sometimes.”

“O-Okay...”

And thus, the man proceeded to take pictures of a place he never stayed at before. While photography did, indeed, soothe his mind, the man planned on taking pictures for multiple reasons.

The first thing was to confirm whether the world he lived in was real. His camera could potentially serve as a sign for his own sanity.

He also wanted to prevent his photography skills from rusting up. The last thing he wanted to do was take super-shaky pictures of everything.

Frank West had no idea as to whether there was a way to leave the world he now walked on, but the thought of returning home sounded appealing. He would be able to share the truth behind Fortune City’s zombie outbreak and get back into the game of photojournalism.

…Now that he thought about it, he had pictures of zombies and a bunch of other particularly frightening images. The man decided to do something about the pictures later, but first things first, he wanted to get used to the small house.

A few more clicks came from the camera, and soon, he heard the pony with the pink mane ask,

“I’ve never seen anypony use a camera like that before…”

The dark-haired man mustered up a small grin as he lowered the camera, checking his most recent pictures carefully. “I’m the kind of person to take the best kinds of pictures.”

“Per…son?”

“Well, to be more exact,” Frank blurted out, only to find the explanation of a ‘human’ to be more confusing than he thought it would be. “…You’re a h- pony, right?”

Not noticing that Frank nearly described her as a “horse,” Fluttershy nodded shyly.

“If you’re a pony, I’m a human. Humans refer to their own kind as ‘people’ because it feels more natural.”

The pony nodded timidly as the man glanced around the house. Much to his surprise, his head did not bump into anything. The house was big enough for him to stand straight in… though, jumping around the place did not seem ideal for someone his size.

“You can feel free to have a seat, mister,” Fluttershy squeaked.

For a split second, Frank West felt worried about breaking the sofa with his weight, but the sofa proved to be stronger than it looked. Though it felt a bit small for his liking, it was much better than standing around for prolonged periods of time.

“It’s a nice house,” Frank commented.

“Thank you.”

A short period of silence took over the house as Fluttershy slowly trotted over to the other side of the house. Frank, on the other hand, simply continued to observe his surroundings to make sure that he did not break anything during his stay.

I probably won’t be here for long, he thought as he immediately began planning on what to do once he got used to his surroundings. No matter what, I’m going to try making my own shelter and start searching for a way back home.

…This place isn’t as bad as I thought it’d be, though.

What he expected to be a truly foul place to live on turned out to be relatively relaxing and peaceful. For once, he felt at ease, the intensity of his worries dying a bit. Of course, that may have been supported by the fact that the first thing he met in his strange location was a shy pony capable of speech. Had it been an orc or some freakishly dark fantasy creature, he probably would have searched for some psychopath that could put him out of his misery.

The yellow pony soon returned and placed a cup of tea on a coffee table in front of him. How the heck she managed to bring a cup in the first place, he did not want to think about.

As he thanked her, the pony trotted up to a couch and sat on it. She remained as timid as ever when she decided to bring up a conversation.

“Who are you?”

A good question, considering how Frank wanted to ask the same thing to her. Taking a sip out of the interestingly decent cup of tea, the dark-haired man readjusted his sunglasses as he put down the cup he drank with on a nearby table.

“Name’s Frank,” he answered. “Frank West. Freelance photojournalist. I’ve covered a lot of stuff back at my home.”

Fluttershy seemed curious about the man, but she decided to hold herself from asking more questions. Seeing that he had plenty of time to explain who he was, Frank continued talking.

“I don’t really have much to say other than the fact that I was a bit famous. This is the first time I’ve ever seen a place like this before.”

The yellow Pegasus nodded. “Do you enjoy taking pictures of nature? O-Or maybe fashion?” Fluttershy asked.

“…As for nature, sometimes I do. Sometimes I don’t. It depends on how I’m feeling. I rarely ever care about taking pictures on photography, though.”

“I-I see.”

When Frank gave her a confused expression, the Pegasus forced a smile, only to make herself look like a frightened child.

“There is a pony who likes to take pictures for fashion here, you see,” Fluttershy explained. Frank, however, seemed to care little for fashion, for he quickly decided to ask a question of his own.

“So is this… world… filled with ponies, and ponies only? I’m pretty sure I never saw ponies roaming around on their own back at my world.”

At the mention of his world’s ponies, a small surge of curiosity entered the pale-blonde mare’s eyes, but she held herself back and answered his question instead.

“There are ponies, griffons, and many other kinds of wonderful citizens of Equestria.”

“Griffons?” The photojournalist blurted out as his eyebrows visibly shot up from where they usually rested at. “GRIFFONS? There are GRIFFONS here?”

“Y-Y…Yes…”

The instant moment he raised his voice, Fluttershy squirmed uncomfortably on her couch. Frank personally did not enjoy the fact that she looked as if she were about to burst out of her own house, for he did not want to start feeling bad for some alien he never even thought had existed before. It may sound inhuman to prevent himself from understanding others’ feelings, but he seriously doubted what kind of world he had fallen into. It could be any world, and as long as he did not know where he was, he would remain tense to some extent.

“Then again there are Pegasi here,” the man mumbled to himself. Thankfully, his words did not go noticed by the Pegasus he sat with, for something knocked on the door.

That particular event was also the trigger of a series of unfortunate events.

“O-Oh! That must be a friend of mine,” Fluttershy exclaimed quietly as she gently leapt off her couch. “I-I’m very sorry, but-“

“Oh, nonono. Don’t feel sorry,” assured Frank with great haste. “Just go on with what you have to do. Don’t mind me too much.”

…Though, I doubt she wouldn’t mind me anyway, he thought as he remained silent. I’m as much of an alien to this creature as they are to me.

Tea certainly felt like a nice change from consistently drinking coffee creamers at a small safehouse. With the cup back in his hand, Frank found the warmth of the tea to be soothing.

The freakishly loud scream that roared from the entrance of the house, on the other hand, did the exact opposite. Frank, startled by the high-pitched scream, nearly dropped his cup and spilled some of the tea on his pants.

“…Seriously?”

Whoever made him drop tea on his pants was going to owe him an apology. Looking up from his drink, the photojournalist let his eyes rest upon Fluttershy… and another pony.

The blue pony had a weird rainbow-colored mane and a horrified look as she flipped out just at the sight of Frank West.

“WHAT THE HECK IS THAT?!”

But while the blue pony exclaimed both surprise and confusion, Frank remained calm.

Only on the outside.

For in his mind, all he could think of was

OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD
NOT ANOTHER ONE ALREADY
AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-

Rainbow Hashtag

“Fluttershy, what on Equestria is that?!” The pony with a rainbow mane screeched. “Who are you?!”

It… felt interesting. To be the alien rather than be the one to meet the alien. Sure, there were plenty of times when he felt like an alien to his own people, but never did he experience being considered as an actual alien to the world he was stuck on.

Did he like being the alien? No, not really; it felt annoying. And that was the reason why he bolted up to make a point.

“Whoa, chill,” the photojournalist stood up from the sofa and raised his hands. “I’m just a lost man who doesn’t know what’s going on. Nothing more.”

“Just a lost man?” The blue pony blurted out, clearly shocked at the dark-haired photojournalist’s very presence. “But you’ve got some sort of uniform! And a camera! What’re you, a spy?”

“…Okay, dude, I’ll tell you right now that I’m not here to spy on anything,” Frank attempted to calm the nervous pony, only to unintentionally escalate things. Greatly offended by what he called her, the pony with the rainbow-colored mane shouted,

“Dude?! You two-hooved, conniving spy… Are you picking a fight or something?!”

The term fite me irl never rang so loudly within Frank’s head. Needless to say, the excitement of the blue pony ticked him off. Frank held back much of his anger as he simply mumbled,

“Like I said, I’m not here to pick fights. I’m just here to stay over at this individual’s place. Who the heck are you to interrogate me, anyway?”

The light blue pony’s shocked expression was quickly replaced by a proud grin. She raised a hoof and pointed at herself with it as she explained,

“I’m Rainbow Dash! Super cool and super fast! I’m pretty awesome-“

As she happily complimented herself, the blue pony suddenly stopped herself before putting up an intimidating look that Frank could not take that seriously.

“-Wait a minute! You’re changing the subject! Who are you?!”

The freelancer rolled his eyes, amazed at how she took the time to answer a question that slipped out of his mouth. Fortunately for him, Fluttershy decided to explain to her eccentric friend,

“H-His name is Frank West. He says he is a photojournalist who is a bit lost.”

A bit lost, she says, Frank thought as he rolled his head. More like Super Turbo Ultra Hyper LOST 5: Arcade HD Remix Edition. Hell, I don’t even know if there really is a way back out of this colorful hellhole.

The man cleared his throat before he added in,

“I’m a freelance photojournalist; I cover what I want to cover. I have no intentions on bothering any of you pony-things as soon as I find a quieter place to stay at.”

Though Fluttershy seemed like she had something to say, Rainbow quickly butted in with another question. “So you’re stuck here?”

HOLY SHIT I HAVE FINALLY BEEN UNDERSTOOD, Frank screamed internally as he nodded calmly.

Instead of accurately describing his emotions, Frank decided to simply answer, “That’s right.”

Rainbow Dash gave Frank a suspicious look. Frank stared at her through his sunglasses.

“…Why do you wear sunglasses?” Rainbow asked after analyzing him.

An easy question. The photojournalist smirked as he readjusted his sunglasses.

“Because I’m awesome enough for it.”

It was the blue pony’s turn to give Frank a weird look. Doubting his logic (and feeling somewhat irked by the fact that he considered himself to be significantly awesome enough for wearing sunglasses), Rainbow turned to Fluttershy with a somewhat worried look.

“Shouldn’t we bring him to Princess Celestia, or at the very least, Twilight? He definitely doesn’t seem like somepony you could keep at your house.”

Fluttershy’s gaze fell on the ground. Confused by the mentioning of more names, Frank took several steps forward as he asked,

“Wait- princess? Does that mean you have a leader here?”

His ignorance of the world’s princess left Rainbow flabbergasted. To make up for Rainbow’s lack of response, Fluttershy meekly answered,

“Yes; Princess Celestia watches over us. She keeps Equestria happy and holds the sun under her control.”

“The sun?” Frank repeated, unable to believe the extent of the world’s lack of scientific explanations. “What in the actual f-“

An idea struck him at that very moment.

Wait a second.

If the so-called Princess Celestia could control the freaking sun out of all things, she probably had some magic at her disposal. Thinking as practically as possible, Frank realized that there was a chance that she could have teleportation magic that can possible send him back home. The chances were slim, but still, the thought sounded interesting.

“…Alright, then,” Frank muttered. “You there; Rainbow Hashtag or whatever you’re called.”

“It’s Rainbow Dash, you nincompoop!”

“…”

Keeping his cool, the man asked the pony with the rainbow mane,

"This Celestia you mentioned... How much influence does she have over this place, and how strong is she?"

His question sounded a bit suspicious to Rainbow, for she quickly asked, "And why should you know about that?"

"Uh..."

With a thoughtful look, he remained still for several seconds before replying, "Maybe I'm just looking for possible ways to get out of this place?"

Rainbow Dash stood awkwardly, a noticeable frown present on her. She then grumbled, "She is the best ruler to watch over Equestria. I'm not going to talk about her power, though. Why do you want to know about that?"

With a somewhat darker expression, the photojournalist said,

“I'd like to meet this leader of yours.”

Frank West: Dancing Troll Extraordinaire

A man with a baseball bat walked amidst an army of undead.

He walked with class, his face painted with crass. The grass he walked on was red, and nails protruded out of his bat. A scowl was spread across his face.

And he swung his bat at a zombie like a mace.

Fortune City; an unfortunate victim to the ranks of zombies. It had it coming, though. After hosting so many contests messing around with the dangerous zombies, problems were bound to eventually occur. The terror of an outbreak became a reality. The unthinkable happened.

A young couple cried for help at a casino within Fortune Park. And lo behold, a man who held a spiky baseball bat stood far away from where they stood. He recognized their human status.

“Hold on,” he exclaimed with a voice that elevated their hopes. Those two words foreshadowed the greatness of the hero of Willamette. Excited to see a familiar face, the woman waved as the man cried,

“Hey, it’s Frank West!”

In came the glorious zombie-killer extraordinaire. The dark-haired photojournalist leapt forward, kicking a zombie in front of him before ducking below a zombie that attempted to bite him. The man expertly drove a hand against its forehead, knocking it over before letting his body fall along with it, letting his elbow crush the undead’s head swiftly.

He then displayed a beautiful attempt of martial arts, karate-chopping a zombie away from himself before swinging his bat onto a zombie’s head. With the nails attached to the baseball bat digging into the head, the photojournalist tore his weapon out, causing a majestic stream of red to mark the floor of Fortune Park. With the bat in his hands, the man swung horizontally twice as he moved forward, bringing down two zombies onto the ground each time the weapon was swung. But the zombies were hellbent on bringing the zombie-slayer down. One-by-one, the zombies around him began to crowd over to the sunglasses-wearing hero.

The man smacked a zombie’s head with the butt of his bat before smashing its head, immediately turning to his right to spike the weapon straight into the cranium of another zombie. He pulled the bat out and continued to change his pattern of attacks. As he attacked yet another zombie, however, the bat shattered into pieces, leaving his weapon on the ground. For a split second, the young couple, who barely managed to remain safe around the entrance of the casino, felt horror creep into their hearts. They doubted Frank’s survival for a split second.

But he proved that there was no need to worry about a zombie-killing sensation not knowing what to do with zombies.

Like an angel of death, Frank West took out two weapons slung over his back. He tore the weapons away from the straps that allowed him to carry them around. On his left, he held a broom that had a machete duct-taped onto it, and on his right, he held a power drill attached to a spear. With two weapons in hand, Frank West daringly charged forward like a Spartan without a shield.

“Sharp and daring” described the photojournalist as he tore through waves of zombies. He swung the pole weapon horizontally, using its sharp blade to tear and push through zombies in front of him. Whenever a zombie approached him at an unexpected angle, Frank would suddenly turn and drive his drill straight into the zombie’s body, brutally tearing through the zombie’s chest and head as he swung the weapon in the fashion of an uppercut. The photojournalist never rested as he plowed through the crowd of zombies around him, dicing apart the undead who were unable to reach him and brutalizing those who dared to interrupt his genocide.

Every zombie lined up hastily to experience a firsthand experience of getting their asses handed to the one and only Frank West. And the young couple could only watch in awe as Frank swung both of his weapons at once, clearing the last of zombies that stood between him and them. He ran up to them, a concerned expression on his face as he asked them if they were alright. They said yes.

A smile entered his once stern look, and they soon realized that they were going to be saved. “Keep up,” he said, and they followed every single bit of their savior’s instructions.

His name was Frank; the photojournalist who overthrew lies and uncovered truths.

His name was Frank; the man who took pictures that captured all horrors.

His name was Frank West.

And he was a hero.

...

“What is that?”

“That ain’t a pony, right?”

“…What kinda pony would walk like that, fool?”

“Whoa!”

“Who could it be?”

“Does it understand us?”

Of course I understand you all, you numbskulls.

Ponyville really was what he thought it would look like. The entire place was colorful; colorful to the point where he had to wear sunglasses at all times to prevent his eyes from burning inside-out. Not only did the sun shine the shit out of him, but many of the residents were ponies that had taken some sort of liking in staring at him.

Though he correctly predicted what he thought he would see in such a strange world, Frank hated every single bit of walking down freakishly bright place. It made Fortune City look like the darkest place in the world despite being located at Nevada.

Frank simply followed Rainbow Dash, with Fluttershy trotting by his side. Whenever he glanced at the pale-blonde Pegasus, the pony would shrink a bit. Rainbow, on the other hand, would simply raise an eyebrow if his eyes fell on her. Silence dominated throughout the journey to wherever the cyan Pegasus was bringing him to.

This, he thought, is boring.

Indeed it was. What could he do to make the walk less boring? The man thought hard…

…and suddenly, he came up with three bad ideas.

The first idea involved him barging into one of the many houses around him and drinking orange juice. Another idea would put him in a situation where he rides on some random horse’s back.

The last idea- which was also his favorite idea- would let him walk in the most over exaggerated fashion while putting on a shit-eating grin.

Well then! Time to put this to a test.

Suddenly, Frank abruptly thrust his arms forward, instantly readjusting his suit as he continued to walk. Cracking his neck side-by-side, the photojournalist prepared himself further as Fluttershy gave him a startled glance.

A few seconds passed, and soon, Frank was walking like a super hyped Disney character. The man held one of the dumbest grins he could come up with as he continued to follow Rainbow Dash, who did not notice him yet. And heck, if she did not notice him, he might as well make the most fun out of her ignorance.

Some of the ponies’ nervous expressions turned into visible shock as Frank managed to sneak up behind Rainbow and begin shuffling his feet while continuously thrusting his arms by his sides, looking like some chicken that knew no limits to drug consumption. The energy of his arm thrusts rivaled that of Pepsiman’s, and his shit-eating smile put the Kool-Aid mascot to utter shame. In addition to his daring dance, he began to spin his head like a disco master.

To the ponies watching from the side, Rainbow Dash looked as if she was apparently being followed by an epic monster performing what could have been the weirdest dance ever. Fluttershy stared at the photojournalist’s sudden decision of dancing behind Rainbow with wide eyes, her mouth agape because she did not know what to say.

Since Rainbow seemed to take the shocked expressions of the ponies around Ponyville to be reactions to Frank’s mere presence, she did not turn around. This caused Frank to change his dance.

With a great amount of energy still within him, Frank began to spin his fists around each other at a counter-clockwise direction. The man turned to one side of the town as he skipped sideways, wiggling his eyebrows at several shocked ponies before turning around to face another side of the town.

His next dance proceeded to horrify nearly every pony who observed him.

The dark-haired photojournalist proceeded to continuously leap in the air, keeping a moderate distance between him and Rainbow Dash. The catch was that he thrust his hips each time he leapt, making him look both daring and stupid. Perhaps a bit perverted, even, considering how Frank sensually wiggled his eyebrows each time he leapt in the air. And holy hell, he was enjoying himself too much at the reactions of the ponies around him as he unleashed his inner childishness upon the creatures he considered to be boring.

Finally, Rainbow Dash turned around to glance at Frank. With her slowing down, however, Frank was unable to control the distance between himself and the pony as he flew towards the cyan Pegasus.

The pony with the rainbow mane felt her eyes widen as she saw a flying set of pants zooming straight towards her face.

“What the-?!”

But it was too late for Rainbow to react. For Frank West’s zombie-destroying zipper collided against her face so hard, the Pegasus was actually knocked into the air before landing on her back.

Frank West could not hold it in anymore. At the sight of a confused Rainbow Dash, the photojournalist laughed uncontrollably.

“HA HA HA HA!!! OH, HOLY CRAP- THAT WAS AWESOME!”

Not only did he prove that he was a radical dancer, but he also presented the citizens of the so-called Ponyville that his hip-thrusts were magical and epic in their own way.

Once Rainbow Dash connected the dots of what just happened, the cyan Pegasus leapt back to her hooves as she sputtered out,

“W-W-WHAT THE HECK WERE YOU DOING?! YOU WERE DOING SOMETHING WEIRD, RIGHT?!”

“HA HA HA!!! OH, HO HA HA HA HAAAAAA!!!!”

“A-ANSWER ME, YOU DIMWIT!”

When Frank continued to laugh at her, however, Rainbow decided to knock him into his senses. The Pegasus flew towards the photojournalist and landed in front of him with a flustered frown.

“Hey, Frank guy,” she whispered angrily.

“HA HA HA-“

“Frank!”

“HE HE HA! HA HA-“

“FRANK!”

“AH, HAHAHA-“

Rainbow Dash lightly slapped Frank back to reality.

“FRANK!”

The feeling of getting slapped and screamed at, however, caused the photojournalist to instinctively slap the pony back. In fact, the dark-haired man used the back of his right hand to slap Rainbow Dash, only to realize what he just did.

“…Ha… Huh?”

A few seconds after he slapped Rainbow Dash, the pony glared up at him with an extremely angry look.

Oops.

Just before the cyan Pegasus could return the favor, however, Frank pointed at the skies as he screamed, “OH MY GOD IT’S A NAKED HORSE!” Every pony helplessly turned up to the skies, only to be met by groups of clouds. Rainbow, however, caught onto Frank’s lie quickly and attempted to drop-kick him, only to find that the photojournalist had rolled out of the way as quickly as he could.

Unfortunately for him, he crashed into a cart filled with apples.

“Ow- SHIT! Ugh!”

Clutching his head gingerly, the human sat still as dozens of apples fell on the ground. As if the pain of crashing into a wooden wagon did not hurt enough, however, he heard a voice crankily cry out,

“HEY! What’re ya doing’ to mah cart!”

Oh, Frank thought, amazed at his own luck. What perfect timing! I bet that’s this cart’s owner, right? It’s always the freakin’ owners that know when I crash into shit.

An orange pony with a… cowboy hat… approached him with a disapproving look. The look, however, soon turned into that of shock when she realized just what she was looking at.

“What in tarnation?! Who’re you?!”

As the he picked himself up from the ground, he grumbled, “Your mom.”

“Excuse me?” The orange pony asked with a country accent as she proceeded to look greatly offended by his remark. “I find that to be quite offensive, mister!”

The dark-haired man sighed as he shook his head. As soon as he fully picked himself up, the man told the orange pony,

“You know what I’m glad about? How these 'offensive things' make more sense than the situation I'm in. Maybe you should grow a pair or something.“

His message caused the orange pony to snap. Not only did he insult her family, but he also insulted her with something that sounded distasteful for her ears. The pony turned and raised her lower body’s legs. Right as her legs flew towards Frank, Rainbow Dash spiraled towards him from afar with her own hooves locked onto the photojournalist.

Oh shi-

For some reason, the man could not remember what exactly happened. He presumed that his face got caved in by four hooves, though.