Asepsisby theoneOshenChaptersEven Homer NodsRevocazioneMidnight MassEven Homer NodsMy name is Vinyl Scratch. You’ve probably heard of me. Savant of the Underground. Spinstress of the Night. The Blue Lightning. Quite possibly, the most kickass mare of all Equestria. You probably know all about me. The press and the media have covered me for my achievements in the EDM community. But, I won’t go any further into that. I’m a humble mare. Here’s the tale nobody knows: The Eventide of Equestria. I don’t know how it started. The government officials had more explanations than plotholes, if you know what I mean. They ranged from mundane to implausible: A virus. A disease. A biological weapon. A failed experiment. An alien race. An errant timber wolf bite. A princess. What I do know, however, is that over 96% of Equestria had fallen to it within the first week, to what became known as the Catalyst. Zombies. The Infected. The Undead. They’ve been called all of those things. At first, no one believed it. And why would we? The deceased, rising? Spreading their curse, consuming the flesh of the living? Sounds more like the latest horror play than anything. The kind of thing that frightens young mares into the comforting grasp of their coltfriends. I don’t know how long it’s been since the apocalypse, for that’s the only acceptable term for this, started. The princesses have gone into hiding, the elements have disbanded, and the cities have become barren and empty. The dead stumble along the roads; their discordant moans near constant, and those who have survived have become feral, only slightly above that which hunts them. Still. Life’s not so bad, after all. The lone mare shut the leather bound journal, capped her ink vial and dried her quill. She flicked her vibrant blue hair over her shoulder and moved the three things into the weathered brown saddlebag that she had thrown into the corner of the small, barricaded room that she was in. Through a crack in the boarded window, a small ray of light shone through, and she could see dust swirling lazily in the air. As ever, the persistent moans of the dead called to her as she blew out a small candle she had used to illuminate her writing. The smell of burnt twine permeated the air, and she sat, her eyes slowly shutting as she rocked side to side, finally succumbing to the exhaustion of her journey. A blood-curdling scream. The sound of banging. Her ragged gasps as she ran in the darkness. On a dark, moonless night such as this, the very air seemed pitch black. Panting to her left. The mare she had met only an hour before was near exhaustion. She stopped, gasping and leaning against a grungy brick wall as she sobbed to herself. Vinyl called back, urging her on. “We’re near! We have to keep moving!” They weren’t near their destination. She knew deep within that their only hope was ages away. The other mare knew this too, and at Vinyl’s words, she let out a long pitiful moan. Behind her, a zombie rounded the corner. Vinyl stepped back, a choked scream dying at her lips. The other mare tried to move, but she stepped too late, for as soon as she lifted her hoof, the zombie had already wrapped it’s legs around the mare’s hind legs. She stumbled forward, and the zombie sunk its teeth into the mare’s leg. Her eyes snapped open. She sighed, shaking her head. She had long ago come to terms with the dream, and felt no guilt. Dust floated in front of her, and for once, she felt normal again, her mind calming in the silence. Silence. Shit. She scrambled up, levitating her saddlebags towards her as the window to her left shattered and a colt in black fatigues leapt in, spinning to face her, a scoped sub machine gun strapped to his shoulder and next to his face. A swirling crimson aura surrounded the trigger, and she let the saddlebag fall to the ground, halfway across the small room. A Republican Hunter. The Republic. After the princesses had disappeared, a radical sector of the Equestrian guard had declared themselves autonomous. “Freedom For the Masses.” Was their motto. Good on paper, but in truth, utter bullshit. Quickly rising in power, they operated from within the floodgate systems of Equestria. She had met their leader only once. Blueblood. The Catalyst had changed him. Viciousness, cruelty, and corruption: he became their embodiment. He pulled the political strings of the Republic, and the unfortunate ponies under him danced like marionettes, for fear of slaughter. Some even whispered that he had caused the event. She slayed three of his hunters, the reconnaissance ponies that roamed the untouched rubble of society. He had offered her a position of power. An influential mantle, one from which she would operate as one of the highest military commanders in his horde. And she had almost accepted. Tired, hungry, desperate: Three things that she had been at the time. She had almost accepted until a colt had shown her the stark reality of the Republic. Guards patrolled the society, flaying at the helpless ponies that had become nothing more than herd animals. Forced to cultivate food and manufacture weapons, they had become little more than slaves. But the one thing that struck her most was – A boot to the face, which shocked her out of her memories. The world turned black as she spiraled downwards, darkness creeping into her vision. RevocazioneShe awoke, thirsty and sore. Manacles covered her legs, and the rickety bumping of a caravan upon a gravel path drove the rough iron rings into her raw skin. Three others were in the caravan: A father and daughter, and a lone mare. The daughter was crying into her father’s fur, and they both had red manes. The father’s coat was a dirty dull white, while the daughter’s marigold coat fared only slightly better. In front of her, the mare watched her slowly. The two met glances, and Vinyl watched her warily. The other mare, only slightly older than Vinyl, had a long silky auburn mane and tail. Her coat, a creamy light blue, was matted, and blood was visible in some places. She smiled at Vinyl, and glanced at her coat. “This isn’t my blood.” She casually said. Vinyl looked down, noticing the trail of blood that traveled down from her nose to her chest. “This is mine.” She said, nonplussed at her apparent injury. She looked towards her, and opened her mouth to ask her a question, but before she could say anything, a guard slammed the caged door with his bladed hoof. Sighing, Vinyl looked out the door and was surprised to see that they were in the woods. As if reading her mind, the other mare said, “9 hours.” she groaned, and rubbed her temples with her hooves. 9 hours of lost time. 9 hours farther away from safety. Stopping for the night, the guards positioned themselves in a ring around the caravan and the lone hunter perched on top of the caravan. almost all of them had drowsed off when a ragged scream filled the air. A dozen ponies jumped out of the foliage, holding improvised weapons and dressed in little more than patched grey rags. They rushed forward as a mob, and three of the eight caravan guards were killed. However, the training of the Republic paid off, and the remaining five formed a small star, locking the small buckler shields that were strapped to their legs into a circle and stamping their free front hooves into their bladed horse-shoes. The two groups faced off, and Three guards were felled while seven of the attackers died. As the remaining five of the mob prepared to rush forward, a spray of bullets mowed them down. The hunter, who had been watching, jumped down from the top of the caravan. A lone mare, still alive, struggled as she crawled towards a small kitchen knife. “NO!” the father inside the caravan yelled, as he slammed into the door. “MOMMY!” the child wailed, before she stumbled onto the ground, her face streaming tears. The hunter looked towards them, his black mask conveying nothing. He slowly walked forward and, with his unbladed hoof, pressed on the mare’s throat. At this, the colt grew enraged. He slammed his body into the cage door, and began to tear at it with his hooves. “I’LL KILL YOU, YOU BASTARD!!” he screamed, his voice raw with emotion. The mare’s struggling died down slowly, and her chest finally stopped heaving, as she shuddered before dying. The colt collapsed, his sobbing, and frantic scrabbling slowly died out. Midnight MassUneventful: their journey in a nutshell. The father and daughter, for the most part, stayed silent, the former falling into a near-catatonic state, while the daughter clung to his fetlocks. Vinyl had struck up the occasional conversation with the other mare, but constant guard supervision kept it small and frustratingly trivial. She had learned that the other mare was called Glade Tarn. "That's a queer name." she said. The other mare looked at her, shocked. She blinked, before.. "Ah, I meant odd. Heh heh." It had been a while since she had been amongst the living, it seemed. The other mare blushed, a smile creeping at the sides of her lips. "My parents were Scoltish," she began, "and they would constantly remind me of it. They were proud of the culture, and really reluctant to abandon it when they moved to Equestria." Vinyl nodded sagely. "I'm from Miamare. Left the place to get away from my family." A guard slammed his hoof against the cage door and Vinyl sighed. Their journey showed no signs of finishing. They rolled into a small hamlet late that night, no more than a ring of houses, several barren stores, a cobblestone road, and a tall town hall. One of the remaining guards snorted. He eyed the prisoners disdainfully, and banged the cage frame for good measure, causing the small foal to jump and whimper. Turning to the other guard, he signaled him over. "Sound the horn; there're some patrol routes 'round this area." the guard commanded. The other nodded and trotted away, turning to face the surrounding forest.The stallion, reaching into a nearby undyed cotton saddlebag, pulled out a chipped, black unicorn horn from within it. Vinyl reflexively pulled back, shocked by the horn. The first guard, noticing her discomfort, leered at her, a smirk evident on his face. "A bit surprised there, Scratch?" he remarked. "You're deplorable!" she shouted, anger smoldering in her eyes. Glade eyed her fearfully. The anger rolled and twisted off of Vinyl. "That's Dawn Treader's horn!" she shouted. "How dare you!" The guard snorted, and farther away, the other one gave it a resounding blow. Around them, carrion birds flew off startled, their dissonant cries fading in the wind. The entire group, guards and prisoners, waited, and after several heartbeats the faint echo of another horn could be heard. Next to the caravan, the two guards kindled a small crackling fire, and as ever, the lone hunter remained perched above them. Less than an hour passed before a small group of five ponies wearing scarlet neckerchiefs trotted within view of the party. Their leader nodded to the two guards, and the five ponies joined them around the fire. The dim glow gave their faces and bodies ghastly shadows, stretching them to gaunt proportions. They made small talk, while the leaders of the two parties conversed. The patrol leader, a lean female pegasus with an aquamarine mane and a sea foam green coat, began. "Why have you called us?" "We needed the reinforcements." "Where're the others?" "Dead. Lost during the harvest." She eyed him critically. "Very rare, to lose so many." He gestured towards the caged caravan with his head. "Such prey is rare." As if noticing it for the first time, the patrol leader stood and stepped towards it. Gazing inside of it, she gave an approving hum as she surveyed the captives. "A rarity indeed. My squad and I will accompany you to Manehattan." She paused, her back turned to the cage. "Bring one of them." she said before striding into an abandoned house. The hunter followed after. Glade looked questioningly at Vinyl. "What are they talking about?" Only the two mares were awake; the stallion and foal slept fitfully in a corner. Vinyl grimaced. "Keep your head down and stay quiet." she said, as two guards walked towards the cage. One rattled the door while the other called out. "Give us the foal." At this, the stallion and foal awoke. With wild eyes, the colt threw his child behind him into the corner. The guards laughed. One unlocked the cage while the other, very cautiously, walked in, a cautious eye trained on the two mares. From a leather armband, he pulled out with his mouth a scratched up steel dagger. The other guard repeated his command. Away from the three, Glade glanced at Vinyl. She tensed to leap at the guard, but Vinyl stopped her. "Not now." Vinyl said as she held up her hoof in a placating manner. The stallion, upon seeing the guard draw his weapon, began to hyperventilate as sweat beaded his brow. "Not her! Not my foal!" he pleaded. "She's all I have left!" Unimpressed, the guard stepped forward, snorting derisively. He had made only two steps before the father, sensing the hopelessness of the situation, rushed forward in a wild tackle. Caught unaware, both the guard and the stallion fell to the narrow cage floor. They rolled twice, exchanging blows, before the guard slipped forward and slashed across the other's throat. He stood, blood flowing freely from a nostril. The child quavered in the corner, whimpering. Apathetically, the guard shoved her towards the cage door until she was outside. After locking it again, the two guards and the foal walked towards the abandoned house. Within the cage, Glade shouted at Vinyl. "Why didn't we do anything?!" Vinyl's head jerked, as if she had been slapped. Her face was diplomatically neutral, and the smell of iron hung around them. Slowly looking towards Glade Tarn, she looked her in the eyes before turning away. "Where's your energy? Your bravado! Was it all a sham?!" Glade screamed. Away from them, the ring of guards snickered and watched the two, all conversation left behind in lieu of the Glade's recent outburst. Vinyl stared Glade in the eyes, an odd glint glancing off their red irises. Glade stopped with a confused expression, and Vinyl lunged forwards, tackling Glade against the cage wall.
Even Homer NodsMy name is Vinyl Scratch. You’ve probably heard of me. Savant of the Underground. Spinstress of the Night. The Blue Lightning. Quite possibly, the most kickass mare of all Equestria. You probably know all about me. The press and the media have covered me for my achievements in the EDM community. But, I won’t go any further into that. I’m a humble mare. Here’s the tale nobody knows: The Eventide of Equestria. I don’t know how it started. The government officials had more explanations than plotholes, if you know what I mean. They ranged from mundane to implausible: A virus. A disease. A biological weapon. A failed experiment. An alien race. An errant timber wolf bite. A princess. What I do know, however, is that over 96% of Equestria had fallen to it within the first week, to what became known as the Catalyst. Zombies. The Infected. The Undead. They’ve been called all of those things. At first, no one believed it. And why would we? The deceased, rising? Spreading their curse, consuming the flesh of the living? Sounds more like the latest horror play than anything. The kind of thing that frightens young mares into the comforting grasp of their coltfriends. I don’t know how long it’s been since the apocalypse, for that’s the only acceptable term for this, started. The princesses have gone into hiding, the elements have disbanded, and the cities have become barren and empty. The dead stumble along the roads; their discordant moans near constant, and those who have survived have become feral, only slightly above that which hunts them. Still. Life’s not so bad, after all. The lone mare shut the leather bound journal, capped her ink vial and dried her quill. She flicked her vibrant blue hair over her shoulder and moved the three things into the weathered brown saddlebag that she had thrown into the corner of the small, barricaded room that she was in. Through a crack in the boarded window, a small ray of light shone through, and she could see dust swirling lazily in the air. As ever, the persistent moans of the dead called to her as she blew out a small candle she had used to illuminate her writing. The smell of burnt twine permeated the air, and she sat, her eyes slowly shutting as she rocked side to side, finally succumbing to the exhaustion of her journey. A blood-curdling scream. The sound of banging. Her ragged gasps as she ran in the darkness. On a dark, moonless night such as this, the very air seemed pitch black. Panting to her left. The mare she had met only an hour before was near exhaustion. She stopped, gasping and leaning against a grungy brick wall as she sobbed to herself. Vinyl called back, urging her on. “We’re near! We have to keep moving!” They weren’t near their destination. She knew deep within that their only hope was ages away. The other mare knew this too, and at Vinyl’s words, she let out a long pitiful moan. Behind her, a zombie rounded the corner. Vinyl stepped back, a choked scream dying at her lips. The other mare tried to move, but she stepped too late, for as soon as she lifted her hoof, the zombie had already wrapped it’s legs around the mare’s hind legs. She stumbled forward, and the zombie sunk its teeth into the mare’s leg. Her eyes snapped open. She sighed, shaking her head. She had long ago come to terms with the dream, and felt no guilt. Dust floated in front of her, and for once, she felt normal again, her mind calming in the silence. Silence. Shit. She scrambled up, levitating her saddlebags towards her as the window to her left shattered and a colt in black fatigues leapt in, spinning to face her, a scoped sub machine gun strapped to his shoulder and next to his face. A swirling crimson aura surrounded the trigger, and she let the saddlebag fall to the ground, halfway across the small room. A Republican Hunter. The Republic. After the princesses had disappeared, a radical sector of the Equestrian guard had declared themselves autonomous. “Freedom For the Masses.” Was their motto. Good on paper, but in truth, utter bullshit. Quickly rising in power, they operated from within the floodgate systems of Equestria. She had met their leader only once. Blueblood. The Catalyst had changed him. Viciousness, cruelty, and corruption: he became their embodiment. He pulled the political strings of the Republic, and the unfortunate ponies under him danced like marionettes, for fear of slaughter. Some even whispered that he had caused the event. She slayed three of his hunters, the reconnaissance ponies that roamed the untouched rubble of society. He had offered her a position of power. An influential mantle, one from which she would operate as one of the highest military commanders in his horde. And she had almost accepted. Tired, hungry, desperate: Three things that she had been at the time. She had almost accepted until a colt had shown her the stark reality of the Republic. Guards patrolled the society, flaying at the helpless ponies that had become nothing more than herd animals. Forced to cultivate food and manufacture weapons, they had become little more than slaves. But the one thing that struck her most was – A boot to the face, which shocked her out of her memories. The world turned black as she spiraled downwards, darkness creeping into her vision.
RevocazioneShe awoke, thirsty and sore. Manacles covered her legs, and the rickety bumping of a caravan upon a gravel path drove the rough iron rings into her raw skin. Three others were in the caravan: A father and daughter, and a lone mare. The daughter was crying into her father’s fur, and they both had red manes. The father’s coat was a dirty dull white, while the daughter’s marigold coat fared only slightly better. In front of her, the mare watched her slowly. The two met glances, and Vinyl watched her warily. The other mare, only slightly older than Vinyl, had a long silky auburn mane and tail. Her coat, a creamy light blue, was matted, and blood was visible in some places. She smiled at Vinyl, and glanced at her coat. “This isn’t my blood.” She casually said. Vinyl looked down, noticing the trail of blood that traveled down from her nose to her chest. “This is mine.” She said, nonplussed at her apparent injury. She looked towards her, and opened her mouth to ask her a question, but before she could say anything, a guard slammed the caged door with his bladed hoof. Sighing, Vinyl looked out the door and was surprised to see that they were in the woods. As if reading her mind, the other mare said, “9 hours.” she groaned, and rubbed her temples with her hooves. 9 hours of lost time. 9 hours farther away from safety. Stopping for the night, the guards positioned themselves in a ring around the caravan and the lone hunter perched on top of the caravan. almost all of them had drowsed off when a ragged scream filled the air. A dozen ponies jumped out of the foliage, holding improvised weapons and dressed in little more than patched grey rags. They rushed forward as a mob, and three of the eight caravan guards were killed. However, the training of the Republic paid off, and the remaining five formed a small star, locking the small buckler shields that were strapped to their legs into a circle and stamping their free front hooves into their bladed horse-shoes. The two groups faced off, and Three guards were felled while seven of the attackers died. As the remaining five of the mob prepared to rush forward, a spray of bullets mowed them down. The hunter, who had been watching, jumped down from the top of the caravan. A lone mare, still alive, struggled as she crawled towards a small kitchen knife. “NO!” the father inside the caravan yelled, as he slammed into the door. “MOMMY!” the child wailed, before she stumbled onto the ground, her face streaming tears. The hunter looked towards them, his black mask conveying nothing. He slowly walked forward and, with his unbladed hoof, pressed on the mare’s throat. At this, the colt grew enraged. He slammed his body into the cage door, and began to tear at it with his hooves. “I’LL KILL YOU, YOU BASTARD!!” he screamed, his voice raw with emotion. The mare’s struggling died down slowly, and her chest finally stopped heaving, as she shuddered before dying. The colt collapsed, his sobbing, and frantic scrabbling slowly died out.
Midnight MassUneventful: their journey in a nutshell. The father and daughter, for the most part, stayed silent, the former falling into a near-catatonic state, while the daughter clung to his fetlocks. Vinyl had struck up the occasional conversation with the other mare, but constant guard supervision kept it small and frustratingly trivial. She had learned that the other mare was called Glade Tarn. "That's a queer name." she said. The other mare looked at her, shocked. She blinked, before.. "Ah, I meant odd. Heh heh." It had been a while since she had been amongst the living, it seemed. The other mare blushed, a smile creeping at the sides of her lips. "My parents were Scoltish," she began, "and they would constantly remind me of it. They were proud of the culture, and really reluctant to abandon it when they moved to Equestria." Vinyl nodded sagely. "I'm from Miamare. Left the place to get away from my family." A guard slammed his hoof against the cage door and Vinyl sighed. Their journey showed no signs of finishing. They rolled into a small hamlet late that night, no more than a ring of houses, several barren stores, a cobblestone road, and a tall town hall. One of the remaining guards snorted. He eyed the prisoners disdainfully, and banged the cage frame for good measure, causing the small foal to jump and whimper. Turning to the other guard, he signaled him over. "Sound the horn; there're some patrol routes 'round this area." the guard commanded. The other nodded and trotted away, turning to face the surrounding forest.The stallion, reaching into a nearby undyed cotton saddlebag, pulled out a chipped, black unicorn horn from within it. Vinyl reflexively pulled back, shocked by the horn. The first guard, noticing her discomfort, leered at her, a smirk evident on his face. "A bit surprised there, Scratch?" he remarked. "You're deplorable!" she shouted, anger smoldering in her eyes. Glade eyed her fearfully. The anger rolled and twisted off of Vinyl. "That's Dawn Treader's horn!" she shouted. "How dare you!" The guard snorted, and farther away, the other one gave it a resounding blow. Around them, carrion birds flew off startled, their dissonant cries fading in the wind. The entire group, guards and prisoners, waited, and after several heartbeats the faint echo of another horn could be heard. Next to the caravan, the two guards kindled a small crackling fire, and as ever, the lone hunter remained perched above them. Less than an hour passed before a small group of five ponies wearing scarlet neckerchiefs trotted within view of the party. Their leader nodded to the two guards, and the five ponies joined them around the fire. The dim glow gave their faces and bodies ghastly shadows, stretching them to gaunt proportions. They made small talk, while the leaders of the two parties conversed. The patrol leader, a lean female pegasus with an aquamarine mane and a sea foam green coat, began. "Why have you called us?" "We needed the reinforcements." "Where're the others?" "Dead. Lost during the harvest." She eyed him critically. "Very rare, to lose so many." He gestured towards the caged caravan with his head. "Such prey is rare." As if noticing it for the first time, the patrol leader stood and stepped towards it. Gazing inside of it, she gave an approving hum as she surveyed the captives. "A rarity indeed. My squad and I will accompany you to Manehattan." She paused, her back turned to the cage. "Bring one of them." she said before striding into an abandoned house. The hunter followed after. Glade looked questioningly at Vinyl. "What are they talking about?" Only the two mares were awake; the stallion and foal slept fitfully in a corner. Vinyl grimaced. "Keep your head down and stay quiet." she said, as two guards walked towards the cage. One rattled the door while the other called out. "Give us the foal." At this, the stallion and foal awoke. With wild eyes, the colt threw his child behind him into the corner. The guards laughed. One unlocked the cage while the other, very cautiously, walked in, a cautious eye trained on the two mares. From a leather armband, he pulled out with his mouth a scratched up steel dagger. The other guard repeated his command. Away from the three, Glade glanced at Vinyl. She tensed to leap at the guard, but Vinyl stopped her. "Not now." Vinyl said as she held up her hoof in a placating manner. The stallion, upon seeing the guard draw his weapon, began to hyperventilate as sweat beaded his brow. "Not her! Not my foal!" he pleaded. "She's all I have left!" Unimpressed, the guard stepped forward, snorting derisively. He had made only two steps before the father, sensing the hopelessness of the situation, rushed forward in a wild tackle. Caught unaware, both the guard and the stallion fell to the narrow cage floor. They rolled twice, exchanging blows, before the guard slipped forward and slashed across the other's throat. He stood, blood flowing freely from a nostril. The child quavered in the corner, whimpering. Apathetically, the guard shoved her towards the cage door until she was outside. After locking it again, the two guards and the foal walked towards the abandoned house. Within the cage, Glade shouted at Vinyl. "Why didn't we do anything?!" Vinyl's head jerked, as if she had been slapped. Her face was diplomatically neutral, and the smell of iron hung around them. Slowly looking towards Glade Tarn, she looked her in the eyes before turning away. "Where's your energy? Your bravado! Was it all a sham?!" Glade screamed. Away from them, the ring of guards snickered and watched the two, all conversation left behind in lieu of the Glade's recent outburst. Vinyl stared Glade in the eyes, an odd glint glancing off their red irises. Glade stopped with a confused expression, and Vinyl lunged forwards, tackling Glade against the cage wall.
