Uncooperative & Immune

by Redd the Angel

Rating: teen
Tags: Profanity, Gore, Violence, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Death, Human, Sad, Original Character, Apple Bloom
Length: 5079

Waking up in a crashed train in a body you don't recognise would suck, even if you could remember anything about yourself...

What worried her the most wasn't the ruined wreckage she woke up in, or tube-like appendages she had for arms. No, what worried her the most was that fact she couldn't remember how she got here, or if she always had been this... bipedal creature. She remembered... nothing.

This is my first fic, so please be and constructive and non-abrasive as possible in the comments please.

Character tags will be changed as the story progresses

Enjoy!

Published 2018-11-05 00:50:02 UTC
Last updated 2018-11-05 00:50:02 UTC

Chapter 1 - Wake up

Alarm Clock: Good morning, Morgan.
Today is Monday, March 15th, 2032

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

? ? ?

Somewhere in the Everfree Forest...

The first thing I heard was the smooth trickle of running water. The harmonic dribbling lulled me out of the misty throes of unconsciousness. Laying numly against a firm, metallic surface, my mental processes for consciousness slowly warmed up. Like a shitty high school library computer, this process took way longer than it should have. Then I noticed the headache.

Christ onna cross...

My head throbbed, but the cloudiness persisted. My brain felt like a big balloon of boiling water. I Ignored this as well as I could, as my survival instincts started kicking in. I strained my weak body, trying to open my unresponsive eyes. Judging by my pounding headache, I'd probably gotten myself into a pretty shitty situation. I needed to assess what had happened, preferably as soon as possible. However, my eyes continued to be completely unresponsive.

I tried moving my arms. Nothing happened. I tried my legs. Same thing. A lack of blood flow from my unconsciousness must have numbed all my limbs to the point of immobility. The only things I could feel was the cold metal surface I was leaning against, and the ever-present pounding in my head. I think it got worse from my attempts to open my eyes.

I struggled to think clearly, attempting to open my eyes once again. This time, the weakened muscles slowly raised— exposing me to an eye-piercing beam of bright light.

Wincing, I instinctively tried to raise my arm to block the intrusive beam. As it rose, the weak limb slammed into something to my left.

*CLANG*

FUCK

That hurt. A lot. Grinding my teeth, I waited for my eyes to adjust to the light, then took in my surroundings. I was in a subway train car- or what remained of one. The object I had bruised my arm on was a fallen ceiling panel. All around the car, seats were bent and broken at wild angles. Shattered glass coated the floors and seats. Along the ceiling rails, straps hung limply in various states of detachment. My expert intuition concluded that I had almost certainly been involved in some sort of train accident. Scattered sunlight beamed through the train's broken windows, revealing the derailment occurred somewhere in the woods.

Then I noticed the dents peppering the car's interior: the telltale signs of ricocheting bullets. The marks lined the seats and walls, with only a few shots successfully penetrating the metal carrage's siding. Judging by the lack of marks on either end cap of the carriage, the shots must have been fired from outside the car. This would explain why not a single window housed intact glass, and the pungent smokeyness of gunpowder drifting through the air.

Suddenly, I started to feel something from my right leg, some kind of sharp sensation. Looking down, my jaw dropped at what I saw.

...

Ere' the hell are mah legs?

Where there should have been two legs rested a pair of brown, fur-covered appendages. Instead of feet, each of the tube-like limbs ended with what I immediately recognised as hooves. Horse hooves. Gaping in shock, I held out my left arm. Sure enough, a similarly hooved leg responded to my movements.

Didn't ah have hands...

I vainly struggled, trying to remember what in the world had happened to me. My memory turned up entirely blank. I couldn't remember a single thing before the train car. I started to hyperventilate. You'd think it would be pretty easy to remember if I'd always been a fucking horse, or had just recently been turned into on (the latter would explain why these limbs felt so alien), but no. My memories were as blank as a sheet of paper.

Panic started to well up in my chest. Why couldn't I remember anything? How did I get into this wreck? Why didn't I recognise my own appendages?

I took a slow breath...

What was my name?

...

Shit.

I couldn't even remember my own name.

I closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I couldn't afford to panic right now: I could worry about my body once I'd gotten myself out of this mess. I must have just hit my head REALLY hard. Yeah, that's it. That's why I can't remember anything. I got... whatcha call it? Amnesia!

As my hyperventilating finally calmed down, that pinching in my right leg rose again.

Yer a persistent little shit, ain't ya?

Brushing my worry aside, I turned to focus on my possible injury. As I rolled the limb over, the distant sensation jumped to a sharp pain. My vision blurred. I pressed my tongue into my cheek, literally biting back a cry of pain. Seems like I really got myself fucked up this time. As my swimming vision cleared, I got a better look at how exactly 'fucked up' I was: Jammed into the back of the limb, slightly above the hoof, was a twisted length of metal. Wincing from the pain, the penetration began to ooze blood, sticking to my... leg's rust-colored fur.

Clenching my teeth, I scanned the debris around the wreckage. Built into a seat cap near the center of the train car, about five feet from where I laid, was a cross-marked panel. A first aid kit. Perfect. just gotta get... over there.

Wincing and cursing, I slowly scooted my way down the car, pulling myself forward with anything my alien appendages could reach.

AHH FUCK FUCK SHIT

I forgot about the scattered shards of glass. Whelp, I hope there ain't too many shards embedded in my ass.

OW... OW... OW...

Finally collapsing against the endcap, I came to a realisation. Looking around the car, everything seemed to be a lot bigger than me. The first-aid panel looked like it was placed reasonably high, relative to the rest of the train car, yet it was incredibly hard for me to reach it. The ends of my hooves fumbled with the handle, the weak attempt not enough to convince the door to budge.

"Ffuc-" I tried to curse, the tickle of weakened vocal cords triggering a frenzy of coughing.

I leaned back against the endcap, waiting for the hacking to pass. The stinging pain from my leg worsened with every cough's jolt. That crawl definitely didn't help. I silently promised to myself, whoever was responsible for this injury was going to get a stern talking to. With my hooves. To their face.

Teeth clenched, I stretched my hooves again, placing one on either side of the looped handle. Pain flared up my leg, but I continued to pull on the handle. With a satisfying *click* the panel swung open, revealing it's precious contents. I found a stereotypical white-painted metal first-aid kit, and a plastic yellow package of flares. balancing the flares with one hoof, I tossed them aside and pulled the kit down with the other hoof.

Fumbling with the box's latch in my lap, I popped it open. First aid seems to be something I could still sorta remember, as I instinctively started pulling out what I needed to treat my puncture wound: a tube of disinfectant, a roll of bandages, and a plastic-capped syringe of painkiller (Morphine, I think?). Hopefully I'm doing this right, I thought to myself as I studied the metal imbedded into my leg. It was a cylindrical shape, sticking out of me about 2 - 2 1/2 inches.

If I remembered correctly, one was supposed to remove as much of the object that wasn't in the patient's leg as I could. Shame there wasn't a pair of bolt cutters in the first aid kit- it looked like I would have to work around the protruding invader.

Grasping the end of the disinfectant tube with my hooves, I came to a stupid realisation: I had no idea how to open it.

What kind of inbred idjit makes medicine you ain't able t' open- oh wait I could just use my mouth.

I yanked off the cap of with my mouth, spitting in onto the floor. Steeling my nerves, I squeezed a circle of disinfectant along the punctured flesh.

The pain spiked, pulsing up my leg. I contemplated using the morphine, but continued to push through the pain. It seemed I was very good handling pain; perhaps I was used to getting hurt badly? What a depressing thought.

. . .

Fuck off Doc, I ain't no Nat. Painkillers are for pussies.

. . .

A jump in pain dragged me from my thoughts, and I continued to treat my injury. I used the first-aid kit's scissors to cut a hole for the metal in the bandage, then I wrapped up the now-sterilised puncture. Carefully, I wound the bandage all the way around my leg.

As I wrapped the limb, I began to notice more strange aspects of my body: the way my thighs connected to the legs; the way my torso was bent as I leaned back; the fur that seemingly covered my entire body. More and more signs pointed towards me being some kind of horse. What the hell? I unconsciously shook my head. Why did that seem so... wrong?

I finished wrapping the injury, stowing away the supplies after capping the disinfectant. Next on that mental survival checklist... I needed to find some survival equipment.

Ignoring the pain, I followed the bloody trail back to where I'd woken up. There laid some sort of satchel, along with what looked like clothing...

Wait...

Ah've been naked this whole time!

Fumbling with my hooves, I pulled the shirt from the top of the pile. I forced my forelegs (I think that's what they're called) out through the sleeves, and pulled the waistline up to my shoulders. Then I ran into another issue with my hooves; I couldn't button the shirt up. The little buttons were just too small for my clumsy hooves to grasp. Still in a panic, I scrambled to unzip the pants. Preparing to put the jeans on, I suddenly remembered my injury. I couldn't put on any kind of pants or underwear on without messing up my injury's dressing.

Aw naw.

As much as I didn't like it, it looked like the only thing I could wear for now was a shirt. At least I'm half decent, right? Tossing the pants back on the ground, I noticed a hat sitting atop the nearby seat.

What the hell, why not.

I snatched up the crumpled baseball cap, placing the cap on my head. Funny... My ears were never in way when I wore hats before... I was pretty sure...

Fuckin' hell, how bad did ah hit mah head in that crash?

Content with my attire for now, I poked around at my other probably-belongings-but-can't-remember-so-oh-well. Tucked underneath the satchel I discovered some kind of modified utility belt. Attached to the normal belt, there was another strap sewn on that went over the shoulder of the wearer. Hanging on the side of the belt was an empty holster.

Curious, I poked around the debris, looking for any sign of the weapon it was supposed to carry. I eventually found it, slid underneath a seat across the aisle. It was a machine pistol, from the looks of it. Judging by my seeming familiarity with the weapon as I held it in her hooves, it must have been mine.

I strapped the belt around my waist, and slung the second strap over my shoulder. Carefully maneuvering my hooves, I slid the machine pistol into my holster.

. . .

Its always smart t' keep a gun handy, Lee. 'specially with 't Nats tearin' up no-man's land lookin' fer ya...

. . .

Wait...

Ah jus' remembered somethin'! Somethin' 'bout being on 't run from people!

Then everything clicked.

The bullet holes...

The crashed train...

My relatively calm reaction to a train crash...

Ah'm on 't run from 't law, ain't ah? Whelp...

Shit.

I grasped the first aid kit between my hooves and tossed it into the satchel. I could poke through that later. Right now, I needed to get moving. And fast. I laid my forhooves on a chair, and attempted to hoist myself onto my hooves. I slipped, yanking the seat out of it's strained supports. I flopped down on my back, the chair sliding down with a loud clang.

YOW!

Pain shot up my leg as I landed on the bandaged limb. Getting out of here might be a lot harder than I anticipated... I tried standing up again. My legs gave out, and I fell to my side again, thankfully on the other leg. Laying on the ground, I stared down blankly at front hooves.

Ah remember how t' stand...

right?

...

Holy shit...

I forgot how to stand...

Slapping a hoof to my face, I let out a grumble of frustration.
What. The. Actual. Fuck.
I looked down at my traitorous limbs, ready to scream. What kind of head injury tears up all your memories and motor skills, but leaves all your knowledge of first aid and situational instincts completely intact? looking behind me, I gave the seat I had fallen on an angry kick. The plastic crumpled against my hoof as the seat slid down the slanted train car.

Wait a minute. I stared at my back legs, then looked down at my forehooves again.

I'ma horse. Horses don't walk on two legs. Horses walk on four legs.

With a pained groan, I slowly rose on all four hooves, favoring my injured leg. As my hoof slowly let go of my makeshift crutch-seat, I prepared to fall again... But sure enough, I was able to stay standing. I gave a quick test of my knees, crouching with all four of my limbs.

Hell yeah!

I did a quick little victory-crotching-dance, a stupid grin on my face. It was nice to finally be standing after crawling around the train car.

Why did I remember standing being on two legs?

Maybe ah hit mah head hard 'nuff t' screw up mah memories and motor skills. Mus' be mah lucky fuckin' day.

I tugged on the satchel with my mouth. Tossing it onto my back, I turned and started looking for a way out.

The two main double-doors, I expected, were completely powered off. Even if I could find some way to grasp the door with these hooves, I was way too weak to try and pry them open. I could try crawling out through a window, but in the interest of keeping glass on the window panes and not imbedded in my rear, that option is out. The back door of the train car was completely buckled, the carriage having smashed into a tree. The right side of the train's rear end bent a couple of feet into the interior; there was no way I'd be finding a way out through there.

My last option was to check the front of the train. Taking a careful step forwards, I miraculously didn't fall flat on my face. Gaining confidence, I took another step. At least I remembered how to walk. Then I tripped on a crushed seat.

*FWHOOP* *CLUNK*

GIMME AH GODDAMN BREAK, USLESS-ASS MOTOR SKILLS!

Angrily rising to my hooves. I continued my walk to the front of the train. Pushing aside the crooked door, I found the engineer's compartment entirely torn up. The console holding all the levers and dials that ran the train had been torn from its housing and hung on it's side by strained wires. The entire front window of the train was shattered, revealing a slowly trickling creek. That must have been what I had heard when I first regained consciousness.

Curious as to the whereabouts of the conductor, I began poking around at the controls. After I hit a red switch on the top of the console, a monitor hanging above the front window flared to life. A map covered in rail lines popped up, over which text scrolled across:

JUMP STATION - ERROR: 'SYSTEM.NULL' IS NOT A VALID STATION ID
CURRENT STATION - ERROR: WMATA SERVERS NOT AVAILABLE

That didn't sound good. I followed the cord plugged into the working monitor to a computer stowed beneath the main console. There, laying on it's side, the computer's fan let out a strained clink. Littered all across the top and side of the computer were bullet entry holes.

Was 't train sabotaged? By who? And why? Ah had mah gun... did ah do this?

I shook my head. I couldn't get distracted with these things right now. If my rusty memories could be trusted, I should be more worried about... What did I call them...

. . .

GO GO GO- Hit the gas you braindead ijit! It's the Goddamn Nats! MOVE!

. . .

Right, the 'Nats'.

Stepping into the shallow creek, I couldn't help but admire the scenery. A lush forest of greenery surrounded the creek on either side, cutting an opening to the sky in the tree's dense canopy. Light filtered through spotty clouds, highlighting the rocks and stones that lined the edges of the river.

This place has gotta be ah state park er somethin'... too fuckin' purdy t' otherwise...

As I slid into the knee-high water, I continued looking around. I saw no sign of the tracks the train had wrecked from. How the heck did a train get this far from any tracks? Perhaps this had something to do with the error I saw on the train? It said something about... jumping? I'm pretty sure that term wasn't normally used in reference to trains...

Trudging through the creek, I struggled to keep my gun and satchel dry. I noticed the trees on the left bank were further back than the ones on the right. linding the shore seemed to be a hiking trail of some sorts... Maybe an fire access road? Slowly, I pulled myself out of the water. Water dripped down my drenched legs. This would get uncomfortable, fast. Hmm...

Don't dogs dry themselves bah shaking their coats er somethin'? That wouldn't dry mah legs though... Ah could shake mah legs while sitting on somethin'...

Shrugging, I tried it out. I found a small boulder on the edge of the stream and lifted my forhooves up. Then, I shook them rapidly in the air.

Ah probably look incredibly dumb right now...

Repeating this with my back legs, I found myself relatively dry.

Now I need to get the hell away from this wreck, and find somewhere to lay low. Preferably in civilization. Looking back down at the road, I internally weighed my options. I could follow the road, which would certainly lead me to some kind of civilization, but I run the risk of getting found by whatever 'Nats' is. If I just head off into the woods, I'll be much harder to find, but will have a low chance of finding civilization or any supplies-

A strange howling yanked me from my thoughts, echoing down the stream. That wasn't a normal wolf's howl. I'm not sure how I knew, but that sure didn't sound right.

Maybe going off into the woods is a bad idea...

I headed down the path with a quickened pace in the opposite direction of the odd howling. Hopefully I won't run into whatever made those noises...

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

? ? ?

Eight miles from the train wreck...

Assuming this place is a national park, I had only one thing to say to the rangers: ya'll suck at your jobs. I was pretty sure this trail wasn't an access road, since it's was in an incredibly poor state of disuse. Therefore, I concluded, this trail must be a hiking path. However, I had walked a good seven or eight miles by then and I passed not a single sign or mile marker. What kind of lazy rangers don't even lay down mile markers!

After half an hour of determined sign-searching, I drew two conclusions: either this trail is new, and the rangers just haven't gotten around to adding mile markers, or I'm not in a national park at all. I was really hoping against the latter, since that would mean I was in the middle of buttfuck-nowhere, and that these breathtaking woods would have no government protection at all.

Bored, my eyes wandered around at the passing scenery. The wall of trees on either side of the trail started getting pretty old once the river snaked away, especially because the river was the only thing keeping the tree cover from blocking the sky. Now, the only sunlight I could see was the occasional beam cutting through the canopy.

Eventually, the trail reached a grassy clearing, with a couple of fallen logs and boulders around the trail. It looked like a good place to stop. I tossed my satchel onto a rock, then flopped down onto a log. I laid down, catching my breath after that long hike. I wasn't out of shape, mind you, but all that walking on a injured leg took a lot out of me. Remembering said injury, I swung my injured leg up onto the log with me. The bandage seemed to have held-- but I reminded myself I should probably re-dress it once I find somewhere to sleep for the night.

Looking up at the sky provided by the clearing, it looked like the sun was a little past it's peak. I had a good six, seven hours till sunfall to find shelter.

Sighing, I pulled my satchel over with a hoof and flopped it open with my teeth. I set the train's first aid kit and my jeans aside, interested in my bag's forgotten contents, since I didn't have the chance to poke through it much before ditching the train. The first thing I found was a bunch of pistol magazines. The imprint on the side of the magazine indicated it was 45 caliber automatic.

I wonder...

Sliding my belt over, I studied my machine pistol, searching for something indicating it's ammo type. The angle I was bending at started getting uncomfortable after a while, so I pulled the gun out of the holster with a bite and set it down on the log.

Finally, I found something written in tiny letters, just above the magazine compartment of the pistol: 'Grandchester 2011 .45 Auto Pistol'. Looks like these magazines are for my... 2011? No... .45 auto? Na... I'll stick with machine pistol.

Sliding the magazines back into my bag, noticed a side pocket on the bag. It was hidden under the closed flap. That would be where I'd keep anything important, anything I'd need to get quick. Popping the button that kept that pocket closed, I found a leather wallet and static-plug flip lighter.

Goodie, time to find out who the 'Nats' are after

I flopped the wallet open, and was greeted with... an empty plastic flap. Poking and prodding with my mouth (which was getting REALLY old REALLY fast), I pulled out a fifty dollar bill, a couple of five dollar bills, a cafeteria card, and a folded up piece of paper. I grasped the paper in my hooves.

Ah'm pretty sure ah cn' read

With a careful hoof, I flipped the paper open.

Wanted for crimes against the NCSA

Name: Carolina S. Lee
Alias: NA

DOB: UNKNOWN
Sex: Female
Race: White
Hair color: Brown
Eye color: Blue

Reward: $100,000 NCSA
Summary: Wanted for multiple crimes, including treason, terrorism, grand theft, and train robbery.

Carolina...

In shock, my hooves lost their grip on paper. It slowly fluttered to the grass with the wind. I stared at the paper as it laid on the ground.

Ah recognise that name... That's mah name...

...

Fuck.

Any doubts that I was on the run from the law evaporated just like that. I'm a wanted criminal. A seriously wanted criminal, judging by that reward. And a seriously dangerous criminal, judging by that rap list of crimes.

Wait... those crimes...

. . .

Check out mine! The four Ts! Guess they forgot about the two soldiers back at Charlotte Medical! Hm... wonder why yours has a photo and mine doesn't?

Oh look who's talking you baked potato lookin' fuck!

. . .

Treason?

Terrorism?

...

What 't actual fuck.

You'd think remembering any acts of treason or terrorism you've committed in the past would be easy, but I had no such luck. Why on earth would I do something like terrorism? And treason? I love my country... whatever country that... is... What country am I even from?

Lost in thought, I stared at the wallet. At the bills sticking out from under it.

Wait...

I snatched up the dollar bills and spread them each against the log with my hooves. Hopefully

The fifty dollar bill was a faint green, covered with weird designs I was pretty sure are common for currency. It was for a "United States of America".

That sounds familiar, ah'm pretty sure...

The other fives were slightly different. They were all more tan, with only a touch of green. They had very little designs on them, and were a different size than the fifty. It was for a "New Confederate States of America".

I carefully put everything back into the wallet, then stuffed it and the flip lighter back into the little side pocket. Thanks to that little flap of leather, I now I know a lot more about myself.

My name is Carolina S. Lee. I'm a wanted criminal. I'm from the "United States of America", wherever that is.

Dragging my bag closer, I started digging through my bag's contents again. The next thing I found was a tape player, and a set of earbuds. I flipped bottom of the recorder open, and slid the static-plug out. The bar was all green: the battery's full.

Judging by the unconscious grin that spread across my muzzle, I must really like music.

Ah wonder what kind of music ah listen t'...

Curious, I carefully picked up each earbud and tried placing them in my ears. At first I thought they fit, so I tossed my other possessions back into the bag. As I moved, however, both buds fell out and dangled over my back.

Ah'm remembering how t' wear these right, ain't ah?

I put them in again, but they still refused to stay put. Out they fell. I felt my eye twitch. After two more failed attempts at putting them into my ears, I angrily tossed them onto the grass.

"FIRST I FORGET HOW T' WALK, NOW I FORGOT HOW T' WEAR EARBUDS!" I shouted to nobody, waving my hooves in the air, "WHAT KIND OF FUCKIN' AMNESIA BULLSHIT IS THIS!"

Fed up with my uselessly scattered memory, I picked up the recorder with my mouth. Deciding the earbuds weren't gonna work correctly, I just rolled the dial for volume to the maximum. Picking the buds up with a hoof, I silently I hoped that the little earbuds could handle whatever kind of music I listen to at full volume.

Looks like it's already been rewinded... hmm...

Flipping the tape player over in my hooves, I found the 'play' switch. Sitting back down, I took a deep breath. With a precise hoof, I pressed the switch.

*CLICK*

The soft humming of a harmonica trailed from the shouldered earbuds for a few chords, then stopped.

'You see that mountain over there? Yeah? One of these days I'm gonna climb that mountain,"

Then the music began.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Applebloom

Everfree Forest, Castle Trail

Applebloom hummed to herself as she trotted her way home from Zecora's. She and the Zebra had spent hours memorising potion ingredients. Well actually, she spent hours memorising potion ingredients. Zecora was reorganizing her powders/spices shelf whist helping Applebloom when necessary. Sadly, despite staying an extra half an hour, she only got the base potions down.

Tarberry juice + ground willowroot is...

Mundane potion mix!

And ground rosepetal + small spoon of blackbit is...

Ah...

Weak potion mix!

Right?

Applebloom stopped walking, letting out a grumble of frustration. How the hay does Zecora remember every single ingredient for every single potion she makes! It shouldn't be that hard.

Staring up at the sky, she noticed it was an hour or so past midday. She was supposed to be back by lunchtime. Hopefully Applejack wouldn't be too worried... but knowing her she was probably already freaking out.

Sighing, Applebloom started trotting again. She couldn't afford to waste time.

As she followed the trail, she started hearing something coming from the clearing ahead. She could make out... Something... Blinking, Applebloom listened closely.

Was that... singing?

It was!

Applebloom jumped into the treeline, hiding behind a boulder. She wanted to barge in and see who was out there, but remembered where she was. This is the Everfree Forest. Not many things here are friendly. This could be some monster trying to attract some poor foolish filly to their doom.

Oh but her curiosity always got the best of her, as Applebloom slowly crept through the trees towards the source of the singing. She just had to know who or what it was coming from.

Unbenounced to Applebloom, she wasn't the only creature listening to singing in the forest. From the side of the clearing opposite to Applebloom, half a dozen pairs of emerald green eyes peered out through the darkness.

Author's Note

AHHHHHH THE FIRST CHAPTER IS DONE
GOD I HOPE MY SELF EDITING AINT TOO SHITTY
LET ME KNOW IF YOU SEE MISTAKES... THERES PROLLY A LOT OF EM

I hope someone recognised the opening quote... SOMEONE PLEASE

Oh yeah, here's the song Carolina was listening to:

(get ready for a lot of classic country, cause that's all Carolina listens to)

Redd. Is. Out.