Discord Space: Frozen Equestria

It all started thousands of years ago, with a discovery that would change Equestria completely. One that held the promise of infinite power and salvation in a time when ponies were at war. Instead, it brought terror unlike anything they had imagined. It was buried again, with the hopes that it would never resurface. Soon, even time forgot its presence. But that was to change. During a war with the Changelings, it was unearthed again.

An artifact, hidden beneath Canterlot from the earliest of times, rumoured by many to have been created by the chaotic god Discord himself. That artifact, called a Marker, had been discovered alongside a weapon. The weapon had been used shortly after its discovery to terrible effect, ending the lives of hundreds of thousands of Changelings with a single activation. While the weapon brought death, the Marker brought life, in a horrifying, twisted fashion. Dead ponies came back in the form of monsters, a chaotic afterlife known as necromorphs. It began again on Station Luna, where experiments to understand the Marker went terribly wrong.

Princess Twilight Sparkle, in self exile after using the weapon to bring about the Changeling's defeat, built a replica Marker for study. The effects were disastrous. Experimental necromorphs on the Medical Deck broke free, and tore through the station's population with chilling ease. One pony stood up against them, one of the original Elements of Harmony. Applejack. Having moved from apple farming into CEC engineering as a way to save Sweet Apple Acres, she inadvertently found herself fighting the necromorphs, and working for Discord against the corrupted Twilight. In the process however, her mind became tainted with Chaos, eventually driving her to complete madness.

Discord had made the promise of giving her a new life in her mad state, a promise that he betrayed when his plan reached its climax. While the Marker drew necromorphs in to form a much larger, new body for himself, Applejack was to be the gateway for his consciousness to enter the new body. A process that would have killed her. But somehow, deep within the recesses of her mind, she defeated him. His destruction caused the Marker to implode, which in turn led to the entire obliteration of the station, and all of its secrets. Applejack's fate is still unknown.

Now, Equestria is trapped in an infinite twilight. Both sun and moon lie on either side of the horizon, unmoving since the necromorph outbreak spread to the planet itself. The result, a catastrophic shift in the weather, turning the entire continent into a frozen wasteland. With the station destroyed, and the Lunar Colony on total quarantine, there has been no sign of Princess Celestia, or her sister. Hope of their return has faded, to the point that the tiny portions of pony civilization left only survive out of terror. Death has become their worst fear, because they know it will not be permanent.

*

Ten months after Station Luna disaster.

Blizzards were nothing new, just another hazard on top of necromorphs, Chaotics, and the cold itself. A simple tear in one's RIG could let the freezing atmosphere in, causing the body to suffer frostbite. At that point, they were finished. Pegasi no longer roamed the skies, and unicorns had lost just about all of their power. Magic had been drained away under Equestria's blanket of death. Where it had gone didn't matter that much anymore. They were already beyond the redemption of magic.

The air cleared enough for the occupant of a black and white RIG to see ahead. A layer of light protective material on top of artificial insulation, and again on top of the normal covering. What differed this RIG from others however was the size. Noticeably larger than the typical pony suit, primarily for the reason that the owner was not a pony. Her helmet split down the middle to fold away, a unique feature to accommodate for her mohawk. "A necromorph I do not see, what about you Trixie?"

A bright blue RIG caught up, the eyes glowing in pink. A makeshift tesla cannon was strapped to one hoof. The other had a spear gun. Trixie shivered as the cold air hit her exposed face to answer Zecora. "I swear I saw movement to the left. Look, slashers I can handle okay. But if this is a pack of stalkers, we are totally screwed." She only had the biting wind for a response. Zecora merely closed her helmet up and continued on. The gleaming pillar of silent confidence that everypony had come to admire. That or Trixie's sarcasm had reached a new high.

Neither of them knew what exactly they were looking for anymore. Usually it was supplies, food and energy cells primarily. And on occasion, raw materials and weapon blueprints. None in their camp had the expertise to experiment with the deadly art of weapon crafting. What little survived the failed Convergence on Equestria was vital to their future now. Zecora was one of the lucky ones; her magic wasn't affected by the cold at all. Hers was of a different type, and Trixie couldn't help but feel jealous whenever those powers helped find more salvage.

'It is not a race to collect, if you believe so, might I interject?' That was just about the extent of what she said whenever the matter was brought up. "What are we even doing out here? I swear that one of the other pairs covered this area a few weeks ago." Something very large and loud flew by in the thick of the blizzard fog. "Oh come on, more space junk. Just you wait Zecora; Spitfire's going to ask us to investigate before the necromorphs close in too. Any minute now." Right on cue, her communicator began receiving a signal from their base.

"Trixie, we just tracked a probe that seems to have come from the colony. This isn't the normal space debris, anything inside that should be considered incredibly valuable." Trixie closed it without giving her usual response of sarcastic remarks and begrudging sighs of defeated pride. Probes were a waste of time, the blizzard made anything smaller than a fixed, full size scanner utterly useless. But Spitfire's days as the Wonderbolts Captain, and then as a military general had brought her annoying need for thoroughness into full bloom.

It didn't take long for them to reach it, and in the end, she found herself admitting that probe hunting was rather more interesting than stamping through snow on scavenging trips. The wreckage caused by the probe itself was challenging enough just to observe. It sat precariously on the edge of a cliff, having ruined a factory that left bits of metal sprayed out across the snow. On top of that, several fires surrounded the impact area. The probe itself seemed undamaged, and a lot larger than either of them had first anticipated. Spitfire's speculation that it contained something valuable didn't seem that far-fetched anymore.

"Okay, I'll take a quick look inside; the snow should kill off any space bacteria. Yell if you see any necromorphs." Zecora took up position on a firm rock well away from the cliff. Trixie took every step very carefully. Even with the RIG's insulation, she could feel heat radiating off the probe, melting the snow down to water that in turn froze back into ice. A highly dangerous surface, especially when so close to a long fall. "This thing's hot. It's still glowing red in some parts. I'll have to use stasis to get close enough, be ready in case this goes south."

She resumed the approach once the probe's heat radiation had been slowed drastically. Snow that passed through the stasis field helped cool the surface before it could evaporate the tiny flakes. One of many tricks she had learned from previous junk hunts. Something caught her eye as the surface continued to cool. "Hey Zecora, there's a hoof lock here. The other ones didn't have a way in apart from cutting torches." This probe in particular had been designed to be opened by any pony who came by. On that impulse, she slid her hoof into the lock, turning it open.

"Trixie! Necromorphs are upon us, we cannot fuss! Open the probe now, before we become chow." A large part of the probe hinged outward towards Trixie. Warm air rushed out past her into the cold atmosphere of Equestria. In the moment her visor was blinded by the rush, a hoof grabbed onto her leg. A heavy one at that, one that moved in a distinctly hydraulic fashion.

Zecora landed in the snow beside her in such a manner that suggested she had been physically thrown. Trixie didn't even need to turn her head to guess what had just happened. "We need that teleport Spitfire! And set it for three, we have an unexpected guest!" The large necromorph that had thrown Zecora down was only visible through the thick snow by the array of glowing spots displayed on its limbs. Trixie grabbed hold of the metal hoof reaching from the probe as the beast came right down on top of them. Most of the cliff broke away under the sheer force to crumble down into a river choked with frozen flesh.

*

Three years after Station Luna disaster, Present Day.

Make us whole... "Subject D, report to the mess hall immediately, Subject D." The loud intercom woke the single occupant of a less-than hygienic cell. White tiled walls, a pale blue tiled floor, and anything-proof glass to keep the occupant in full view of other patients. That was how Applejack saw her home of three months. The ideal place for the vastly male ward to watch a single mare live her life in binding. Two pairs of energy shackles were always around her hooves. They allowed her to walk around, at least until the pegasi attendants opened the door. At that point, they would all pull together to leave her completely helpless. "Repeat, Subject D, report to the mess hall immediately, Subject D."

"Better hurry up D-Bag. They don't feed ya if you don't follow the rules. Always how it worked." Across the hallway, she watched Subject F continue to vomit into the hole that served as a toilet. A unicorn whose horn had been removed at some point. She was one of the really fussy patients; always vomiting up what they force-fed her. "Nice one F-Face. Let's see how easy it is to show everypony the contents of your stomach when you've got a tube down your throat."

Subject F moved away from the toilet at that moment, towards the middle of her cubicle. She was vomiting up yellow liquid this time, instead of the usual grey mess that their food always looked like. Applejack moved towards the glass out of concern. "Hey uh, Effy here doesn't look too good. Don't ya'll think you should check up on her?" There was a highly unusual absence of guards at that moment. Down the hall, she could hear attendants trying to sedate a screaming patient. Too pre-occupied to notice one of the other ponies in the ward vomiting up yellow gunk.

Areas on F's back began to move. Focused around the shoulder blades notably. It was an unmistakeable sign. "Buck... Hey! Let me out! She's turning into a necromorph, you hear me? You gotta let me out before she kills everypony!" On cue, two fleshy blades burst out of F's back as she reared up. Her lower jaw tore away to leave a bloody mess down her white outfit. Applejack continued to beat against the clear wall in desperation. "Let me out! I'm the expert on killing necromorphs; you gotta let me get her before it spreads!"

Two thick blades punched right through F's glass wall. A struggle between cracks forming from the attack and auto-repair began, with the former winning at an alarming rate. One of the attendants entered the hallway, accompanied by guards. They paid no attention to the escaping necromorph, making their way right toward Applejack's cell. "Quiet down now before we sedate you too!" Hardened synthetic glass sprayed across the floor as the necromorph escaped. It only caused Applejack to pound harder in desperation.

The door to her cubicle opened. A signal from one of the guards brought the energy cuffs together to leave her in a heap on the floor. "Can't you see it? She's going to kill everypony!" She heard it enter her own cubicle, the slap of dead, fleshy hooves on a hard floor unmistakable. A needle jabbed into her shoulder while the necromorph moved to stand over her. Make us whole. Her eyes shut quickly, the sedative taking effect with remarkable speed. While the guards lifted her back onto the bed, the attendant made his way over to Subject F's cell.

"I believe this was a success. The stimulus of a screaming patient out of sight seems to have triggered the Chaotic portion of her brain. She claimed to see a necromorph, as we hoped would happen. Shall we proceed with the dissection?" F turned her head towards the attendant from the latest session of vomiting. Her eyes were heavily bloodshot and twitchy, a severe lack of sleep brought on by Marker stimulants had caused far more than restless nights. Though when she spoke, it was not the voice of Fleur de Lis.

"Yes. If she continues to degrade any longer, we will lose the chance to analyse a fully matured case in detail. And try not to kill her before you have extracted the brain. She may be far tougher than Fluttershy ever was, but she is also far more valuable to our research." For a moment, the eyes glimmered in a different shade of purple. The attendant had seen it happen before. It didn't disturb him in the least.

"Very good, I shall establish a video feed when we are ready, Princess." Fleur returned to her usual state once more. A sad, broken unicorn, who played the role of a telepathic relay to one of the most dangerous war criminals in Equestria's history. Applejack's view of her room lacked a key portion of the wall, where a single name had been scrawled. Twilight Sparkle.

*

Applejack didn't quite realize at first that her eyes were in fact open when she regained consciousness. Her cell had been blacked out, along with the hallway. Light still came from the other cells, though she couldn't see any of the patients through the stinging, watery sensation coating her eyes. The sedatives used there had a common tendency to do that. "She's awake. Hey, Applejack. Try not to blink too much; you'll only aggravate the stinging." A flashlight caused her eyes to water more. It took several impatient seconds following that for her vision to return.

An off-white pegasi with a bright orange mane dressed in snow gear was standing in front of her, having already removed the energy cuffs from her legs. "No time for questions, we need to get you out of here. They're going to cut your head open and take your brain in a few hours if we don't hurry. Now just follow my lead-" A sharp blade burst out from the base of his neck. At the same moment, a glowing tentacle drilled into his forehead and injected the same yellow gunk she had seen Subject F vomiting up in her hallucination. Only now, this was far from any nightmare she had experienced. A blood choked gurgle escaped his shuddering mouth. "Get... outside..."

It happened again in frightening detail. His lower jaw tore away to spray her in blood. Skin peeled off of his face while his eyes exploded. One of the two blades protruding from his back stabbed down beside her into the bed. Applejack had less than seconds to recover from the shock. "Buck this!" Her hind legs threw the necromorph into the other wall to give her enough time to escape the cell. The scene outside was identical to her mad hallucination down the entire hall. Necromorphs were breaking out of the cells in an attempt to reach her. This time, an infector was making rounds of each room.

While it moved to convert one of the guards, she bolted. It was happening all over again. An exact repeat of Station Luna, only this time she had no weapon, and no knowledge of the asylum outside her cell. Another necromorph knocked her over when turning a corner. In the struggle to fight it off, she felt a sharp pain down in her hip. Not even five minutes into her freedom, and already she had been stabbed by a monster. It served to fuel her insanity driven anger. "Taste hoof bitch!" The resulting buck connected with the necromorph's jaw hard. Its head shot up into the ceiling, while the rest of the body flailed around during her escape.

A nearby storage room seemed to be the best place to hide. Necromorphs ran by wildly as she closed the door. She waited several seconds in anticipation one would start stabbing the door open. Minutes passed. Only when the gurgling screams had faded did she finally slide down into a sitting position. "I don't believe this. Just three months, that's all it took for another outbreak to happen." She hadn't even bothered to check who had saved her from becoming tenderized. Not a single care in the world had been given about him.

It had happened impossibly fast. Her flight from the ward had gone by in a total blur; she only recalled decapitating the necromorph with her hoof in detail. And her hip was still bleeding. That she chose to ignore, pain had become a familiar sensation over the past three months. Injections, abuse, and of course interrogations about the Marker. It had all blended together into one long mess of torture and examination. That was her reward for fighting through hundreds of necromorphs, killing Twilight and Discord, and then blowing up the station.

That continued to puzzle her, ever since she had first woken up in the cell. The advanced RIG was explosion proof; she had found that out towards the end of her time on the station. But even it couldn't have protected her from the utter destruction wrought by the Marker's final energy burst.

'Your work is not over. Equestria will suffer greatly in your absence, and you are the only pony who can save it. Sleep for now, I will watch over you.' "Oh yeah, well where the hay are you now Celestia? I bet you don't give a single flying feather about what happens to me. If you did, then I wouldn't be stuck in loonyville with a bunch of angry zombie ponies trying to turn me into mince." It was Nightmare Night's return all over again, Celestia vanishing deliberately to let the little ponies 'fulfil their destiny'. But nopony ever got hurt back then. Life was peaceful.

"Applejack are you there? I lost contact with Fire Streak, what happened?" Applejack looked down at her hoof. A video communicator, covered in blood like the rest of her outfit. The voice sounded a lot like Spitfire, it seemed logical that Fire Streak was one of the Wonderbolts. Of all the times to be rescued by Equestria's prize flying team... How would she explain his demise to the air force general though? "Come on Applejack, the communicator he gave you is tied to your health readout, I know you can hear me. His stopped responding, I need you to fill me in on what happened."

She looked down at the communicator again. "This is Subject A. Fire Streak's dead; an infector got him just after he freed me. There's necromorphs all through the asylum." There were so many questions she wanted to ask, questions that kept her from opening up the video part of the communicator. "How the hay did a necromorph outbreak happen here? I destroyed the Marker on Station Luna four or so months ago, did the other one activate?" Spitfire's voice became faint while she talked with other ponies. At least it wasn't a two-pony rescue mission then.

"Horseapples. Fine, at least you're alive. Try to make his death worthwhile by not getting yourself killed. Oh, and I'm afraid it hasn't been three months. More like-" The transmission died as the whole room shook violently. It lasted mere seconds, most likely an earthquake. In other circumstances, that wouldn't be so bad. But a loss of power throughout the facility while necromorphs were on the loose couldn't possibly end well. Losing contact with the only pony not out to cut her brain out was a serious blow she could do without.

Either way, she needed a map. Preferably one that would lead her to the nearest weapon locker, or at least a surgical bay. All of them had tissue lasers that she could use for severing limbs rather effectively. But that required getting through the necromorphs first, unless they would be too busy tearing into the pegasi running the place. That was a sight she rather liked the idea of, but one she just couldn't enjoy seeing if she wanted to survive. "Come on Applejack, you may be nuts, but that doesn't mean you're no good at dicing dead ponies up."

There was still the problem of getting out of the storage room without being seen. Necromorphs could come out from anywhere without warning, and she couldn't run as fast as she would have liked with the stab to her hip. "Here goes nothin'." The door opened up again to allow the body of an attendant fall in towards her. She quickly shoved to the side and ran back into the bloody hallway. Carnage was fresh as ever, blood still rolled down the walls in beads. This time , the bodies had a chilling tendency to be riddled with lots of holes. A very typical trademark of twitchers.

"Of course it would be twitchers. Don't I deserve a break for being treated poorly all this time?" She rushed across the hallway into a tighter corridor. Down towards the end, she could see what looked very much like a map display. Nothing stirred in the vents above her, and nopony walked the corridors. The facility was probably a lot larger than just an insane asylum and brain removal ward then. A quick glance at the map was all she needed to confirm that. Over ten thousand square metres of rooms and corridors for her to fight through.

Perfect. Now all I need is Discord yelling at me in my head, then I'm all set. That was one thing she didn't miss one bit. Discord really was gone for good, even if his messing around with her brain wasn't. She lifted a bloodstained hoof to the holographic map once she had gathered her bearings again. Weapons lockers would take too long to crack open, even with a makeshift cutter. There was an operating room just a few corridors away however. At a guess, the necromorphs had already passed through it in pursuit of survivors.

"Almost makes you feel sorry for the poor ponies who were in the middle of an operation. They're probably better off dead anyway." That was purely based on Fire Streak's rather second-hand mention of what the pegasi intended to do to her. Cruel and awful operations like brain removal were probably routine. At least the subjects who got turned wouldn't really feel that much anymore. Save for Twilight, necromorphs seemed to lack any real intelligence. "Time to get back into old habits then. I sure hope that they have my RIG somewhere in storage."

The fact that Fire Streak had been wearing snow gear came to mind again. In that case, it seemed likely that the base was fixed somewhere in the Crystal Mountains. For that matter, it would probably be better if she used one of the RIGs on base for her escape. There had been no sign that the advanced RIG had a proper heating system, and it certainly didn't block out the heat very well in her final seconds on Station Luna. But even if she did find a snow RIG, there was no way to work out which direction would take her to the Crystal Empire.

On the way to the operating room, she decided that defending herself had to take priority. Until she could resume contact with Spitfire, it would be best to wait out the attack, and then make her escape while the necromorphs were occupied with assaulting any strong points of the base. Serves 'em right for wanting to crack my head open. I might just have to thank the morphs afterwards for doing the dirty deed.