“Panic on the streets of London
Panic on the streets of Birmingham
I wonder to myself
Could life ever be sane again?”
The Smiths, Panic.

“They’re coming to get you Barbara.”
Johnny, George A. Romero’s “Night Of The Living Dead”.

***

Elliot opened his eyes.

The first thing he felt was a ringing headache, as though someone had taken a hammer to the back of his head. He groaned loudly, looking around, and his eyes widened when he realised that he was still in the car - and that it had gone off the road, smashed into a lamp-post and been essentially wrecked.

“Crap,” he said quietly. He noticed immediately that Cameron and George were absent, but there was no sign of where they could have gone.

He pulled himself out of the car, wincing from a half dozen minor injuries. The worst was a slight sprain to his ankle. He sighed and closed his eyes, allowing himself to feel the power build up enough to heal his injuries. A moment later he looked around, frowning, before his eyes fell upon the towering skyscrapers now less than a mile off that signalled the main part of the city of Los Perdidos.

“Oh shit,” he said quietly as he remembered...

***

Fifteen minutes earlier.

The car continued its drive on the road, passing by a rusted old metal wall and into the edges of the abandoned city before slowly - it was almost as if the vehicle itself was trying to be stealthy out of fear of being noticed by… something.

Despite just seeing the city in the distance, Elliot didn’t like it; he could tell the atmosphere was eerie - like another horror film almost.

“...Okay I’ll bite, why in the hell is this city a ghost town practically?” George asked, as the car passed by an old pile up.

“Los Perdidos is one of the fused areas from the event, it was in the middle of a zombie apocalypse - no one really came here because of the fear that it might happen again,” Cameron explained, on alert. “Doesn’t help that there were rumors of psychopaths running around that did horrible things. Hell, there were only a few people here to begin with, and even less remained… but, it could never be settled for some reason.”

“Wait a minute,” Elliot said, eyes widening slightly. “Did you just say ‘zombie apocalyspe’? Tell me that’s a metaphor.”

“Nope, Los Perdidos literally had undead human flesh craving zombies running around and attacking anything that wasn’t a zombie,” she answered, eyes on the road. “Besides… this place always manages to have another one happen somehow… the army comes in to kill every last, a while later it’d happen all over again.” Cameron sighed, “No one knows why though.”

“Fuck,” Elliot said quietly. “So… what’s there now?”

“If we’re lucky, it’ll just be a city that has the population of a small town and is mostly abandoned… realistically we’re probably going to see some Glue Freaks or PER.” Cameron responded

“Well,” Elliot muttered, “those I can handle. Actual undead… that’s a little too…”

Was it really more than he could handle? As Avatar he had seen some strange things. But then again, strange was relative - pastel ponies was one thing, zombies an entirely different one.

“Well, I’ve fought some zombies before - they’re actually not so bad if you know what you’re dealing with.” George interjected. “Worst case scenario they’d be like those Rage Zombies from 28 Days Later - those fuckers can run, really fast.”

“Wonderful,” Elliot said. “How long?”

“That depends, how fast can you run and how long can you do it?” he asked, a serious expression present.

“Fairly when necessary,” Elliot replied, frowning. He flexed a hand unconsciously - this was setting off so many alarm bells he was surprised he wasn’t already punching a window out and aiming his shotgun, but -

Suddenly there was an explosion somewhere in the distance. Elliot tensed.

“What the hell was that?!” George called out.

Before any of them could say anything else, an assault vehicle of some kind came seemingly from nowhere and rammed into the car - forcing it to the side.

“Shit!” Cameron yelled. “Hang on!”

She tried desperately to regain control of the car, but it was too late - they careened off the road, slamming into a nearby lamppost, knocking most of them unconscious. Elliot whacked his head into the chair in front of him, before the back of his head impacted heard into the chair’s headrest as well. He blinked, dazed, and could hardly stay conscious as he saw the assault vehicle pull up. Some people and ponies - mostly likey PER - exited the assault vehicle and began to approach the now wrecked car…

“Get the woman and one of the men out.” One of the ponies, a white coated and blonde maned pegasus, ordered.

“There’s one in the back seat,” one of the people said, spying Elliot

“He’s probably dead, leave him,” she said, a bloodshot look in her eyes.

And then Elliot passed out.

***

He remembered now. The PER - he assumed they were PER - had come and taken George and Cameron. The more pessimistic side of him was already certain that they were probably dead or worse - the PER wasn’t exactly slow when it came to that sort of thing. Still, he wasn’t prepared to give up on them.

Assuming they hadn’t just driven off into the sunset with his friends, the only place they could be was… the city. Los Perdidos.

Well. Shit.

He didn’t want to go into the city, truth be told. The thing was big, ugly, and frankly scared the shit out of him. If Cameron had been telling the truth (and there was no reason to assume she’d been lying), then the place was the source of so much weird stuff that he couldn’t even begin to fathom how much weird stuff there actually was.

But it was also the only place the PER could have taken his friends, and he wasn’t in the habit of leaving friends to their fates if he was still able to do something about it. He’d lost enough people.

“Right then,” he muttered, not entirely happy about what he was about to do. He checked his equipment - they’d taken the shotgun, but left him his daggers and pistols. “Time to see what’s out here.”

He walked off, away from the wrecked car, and hoped to God that he wasn’t making a really, really big mistake…

***

Los Perdidos was… odd, Elliot decided. For a city that had basically appeared in the middle of a Zombie Apocalypse, and had never really had that much of a population, it wasn’t nearly as run down as one would think. The buildings were intact, the pavements, while dirty, weren’t weed-covered or wrecked… the place looked as though everyone had left yesterday.

Nonetheless, there were some signs of it being abandoned - there were some other crashed wrecks nearby, as well as some dead bodies - pony and human bodies were lying around, some suffering from what looked like bite and bullet wounds and some looking more like they’d been killed by some sort of bladed weapon. There was also a copious amount of shell casing - whatever had happened here, a lot of bullets had been fired.

Seems that there isn’t really a difference right now between the undead and the Glue Freaks all things considered, Elliot thought. Both were mentally compromised, and both wanted to consume flesh. Both were abominations that had been people, and both were threats.

Elliot hoped to God his friends hadn’t joined the latter’s number.

Drawing his handgun, Elliot began to make his way to a particularly gaudy building that caught his eye - it looked like a club of some sort, labeled ‘the Shiny Pearl’. Thankfully it seemed abandoned very thoroughly…

A few moments later, he entered the club, looking around. It looked like it might have been nice, once, but there was a lot of dust and a few overturned tables and chairs - like the place had been used as a defensive position when the apocalypse came.

It wasn’t entirely deserted though. There was one person there: a woman. She appeared to be wearing a white and light blue attire from the 19th/20th Century, her skin a pale complexion while being adorned with a crown, a necklace and jewels which stood out on her figure. Her eyes were an odd ruby red, though she wasn’t looking at Elliot, instead facing the side of the room while she took a sip from a glass of wine.

For some reason, Elliot had a sense of some strange feeling coming from her - one of… strife perhaps?

Still, no sense being coy. Keeping a hand on his gun, he coughed.

“Excuse me,” he said. “I’m lost, and I got in a car crash. Any chance you could give me a hand?”

The woman ignored Elliot, turning her back to him and taking another sip from her drink.

“Excuse me,” he repeated, his trigger-finger feeling itchy. Something was wrong here. He moved his other hand to one of his daggers. “I was wondering if you could give me some help...?”

“Perhaps I could if you decided to come to the bar and be more of a gentleman Mr. Elliot,” she answered, her tone akin to a woman of the 19th/20th century as well - her accent seemed a mixture between a noble French woman and an English received pronunciation accent.

Elliot scowled. She knew his name - that was almost never a good sign.

“You’ll forgive me if I’m cautious, ma’am,” he said slowly. “I’ve heard some interesting things about this town - and I’m fairly certain I didn’t say my name.”

“Oh of course you didn’t, I know your name - your title. I know about what besieges you back home too,” she stated. “It is unfortunate that your world is in such ruin Mr. Elliot, a Conquest done not by man but by steeds… it’s all very ridiculous if you catch my meaning.”

The woman finished her glass and used her napkin to gently dab at her mouth, before putting a gold coin on the counter as payment.

“Well,” Elliot said quietly, “I can’t disagree with you on that ma’am. Since we’re talking manners, though, I think it’s rather rude that you know so much about me and I don’t know anything about you.”

She turned, and Elliot saw her face properly for the first time. She looked haughty and regal, and looked to be somewhere in her mid to late 20s’. She gave a pleasant smile to the Avatar.

“Well then, I believe I should give you a clue as to who I am.” She cleared her throat and then began reciting. “I looked, and there was a white horse! Its rider had a bow; a crown was given to him, and he came out conquering and to conquer...”

With that said she began to make her way to the exit. It was a biblical reference, but Elliot wasn’t all that familiar. He frowned as she left, and moved to follow her.

To his surprise, there was a horse there waiting for the woman - it white as well and had a saddle of cheetah skin and the same shade of blue as her attire. Without any issue the woman mounted her steed and gave Elliot a final look.

“Remember!” she said portentously. “To come out conquering and to conquer, Mr. Elliot - not to Spread Disease. Remember that, it’ll be important.”

With that… the horse took off, leaving Elliot there alone.

“Well,” he said, frowning after the woman. “That was… interesting.”

He looked around, as though trying to find some evidence that any of that had been real and not just a figment of his imagination - and then he saw it. It looked like an arrow left behind, lodged in the wooden panel of a door.

He extracted the arrow carefully and examined it. It was made of wood, and was straight as one could imagine. Inscribed upon the shaft was a message simply asking: ‘Where to go?’

“Where indeed,” he muttered, looking in the direction the woman had ridden off in. There was no sign of the woman, but… but it was perhaps the only direction he could think to go. This was an unknown place, and he was lost in it.

“Hopefully,” he said to himself, “I’ll find the others on the way. Unless they were…”

He didn’t think about the possibility that his new friends might have been killed, ponified, or even that they might have got themselves into danger in the city. There was also a small part of him that suspected this entire thing might be some sort of trap - in fact, a trap seemed more likely than some of the things he had found himself dealing with these last few hours.

“Cynicism and paranoia are your worst enemies, Elliot,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head. “Come on.”

He started walking in the direction the woman had ridden off in, determined to see what else was in this city…

***

Miles away, a mare stood on her balcony and looked out - she looked out and watched the stranger from another world continue on his path to find his friends and save them from a group of people and ponies in a city that always finds itself dead.

This mare wanted to help him. She wished more than anything that things were so simple as that: that she could simply go to him and help him in every way she could… but then again, she supposed with a wry, humourless smile, why would he want her help?

That group had claimed to be doing things in her name, that ponification was what humanity needed to do - no refusal… and even of she would tell them that she is not a ‘goddess’ nor wants these horrific acts they do.

When had things gone so complication?

...When was her life so simple? She could hardly remember back when things were so easier these days.

“Sister?” a voice said from behind her. “Art thou alright?”

This mare turned to see Princess Luna standing behind her, she had look of concern - a justified concern - present. It has been a long time since she’s spoken to her… perhaps they should talk more often.

“I’m… fine, Luna,” the mare responded, giving a tired and weary smile. “Just… thinking about those messages from Ponyville.”

“Which is why you’re here,” Luna said, raising an eyebrow. “What is wrong, sister? You gain nothing from shutting me out - believe me, I know.”

The mare gave a long sigh, she had become rather predictable these days as well…

“It’s… complicated Luna,” the mare responded. “Between the barrier, the PER and the lack of contact with… the others, I’m afraid the stress may finally be getting to me and eating away like a parasprite caught in a cave.” She looked to the Moon Diarch, “Has there been any word on Twilight’s recovery?”

“Nothing yet,” Luna said, “though I am assured she will recover well.” She paused, frowning at the figure that her sister had been observing. “Who is that human you were watching?”

“A visitor, one like us… he’s from another land - he’s the cause of that magic surge we felt earlier… and he may have great magic within him as well,” the mare explained, “I’ve seen him heal himself.”

“A human with magic?” Luna said, frowning doubtfully. “Curious. What is his intention, do you think?”

The mare shifted uncomfortably.

“His intention… is to find a way back home, and he would seek to judge… me,” she admitted, closing her eyes. “He may want to play the role of executioner based on what he learns and hears of me… it’s all between him and fate to make this choice.”

Luna raised an eyebrow. “If he intends to threaten you… surely we must do something?”

The mare shook her head, “He has no means to get to Equestria, the barrier still holds true and his magic wouldn’t allow him access through it - they tried and failed to get in… and they will always fail; we are safe Luna…” She paused, doubt over those words was present in her mind. “It will be alright, I promise you.”

“I… will trust your judgement in this, sister,” the Moon Diarch said, “though I am still not entirely certain.” She paused. “What if you are wrong, though? What if he does gain access to Equestria, what if he does find some way to confront you?”

“Then I will meet him on even ground, he may come to our kingdom… but he will not be treated above us - there are limits to how a guest may act,” the mare stated, “I will talk to him and should he try to murder me in cold blood… he will pay dearly for it, him and humanity.”

***

The city continued to be a mystery for Elliot - there were definitely still signs that it had been abandoned, but it was still too clean, too… strange.

After walking for what felt like hours, he found himself, oddly enough, in what appeared to be a zen garden of sorts; there were many dead bodies present and not all of them human: he spotted more than one pony amongst the corpses.

“Enter Grasshopper,” an old, wise-sounding voice greeted.

Elliot looked to see a man atop the roof of a shrine balancing on one leg in a meditative stance of sorts. He appeared to be a monk of asian practices, but the peaceful aura was shattered by the presence of some blood spattered on his attire. He had something on his leg - a Guan Dao, a specific kind of weapon that Elliot had occasionally seen being used by desperate people.

“Find sanctuary in peaceful garden,” the monk stated, and the sound of soft wind chimes could be heard in the distance.

“This lot clearly did,” Elliot muttered, looking at the corpses. He looked up at the armed monk. “I was wondering if you could help me? I’m looking for my friends. And possibly a way out of here.”

The man turned, giving Elliot a clear look at him - he definitely had blood on him and looked to be the typical old asian man martial artist type you’d expect. He was no longer in his meditative stance and held his Guan Dao staff in hand.

“Sweet anger course through us,” he simply said. “Is universe tell us who targets should be.”

This guy… he was not sending good signals here.

“I’m not looking for trouble,” Elliot said, more because he sensed trouble was coming than any specific response to the man’s words. “I just want some help finding my way out of here and maybe finding my friends. If you don’t want to help, I’ll be on my way.”

“Spirit of universe has slaughtered my happiness and so I must slaughter too.” The man stated, “All who disrupt my garden of peace shall die!” He then spits at one of the corpses.

It was then that Elliot realized that… these humans and ponies… they didn’t look zombie corpses or converted, the former was pale and the latter had cutie marks… oh god. Did this guy kill survivors that had come here?

“I’ll… stop being in your garden then,” he said slowly, backing away. He didn’t find himself feeling fear that often, but something told him this guy would not be fun to tussle with.

Fate is an unfortunate thing, sometimes it can be unfair to everyone… or sometimes it has favourite targets for the right moments. In this case? It’d be Elliot.

He unfortunately backed into the Garden's gong - and this set the man off. He looked sharply at Elliot, and before the soldier could do anything, the monk threw a smoke bomb at his feet and jumped down off the shrine. He landed perfectly on his feet

“You shall perish!” he cried, pointing a finger at Elliot. He swung his Guan Dao blade into position. “Like the others!”

Elliot, too shocked to react for the moment, stepped back, unsure what to do.

“Ikari koso, washi no seigida!” the monk exclaimed. If Elliot remembered his japanese right (a language he knew only a scant bit of due to having worked with sailors from the JDS Soryu), it meant something like “anger is my justice!”

Not the best of signs for mental stability, Elliot thought wryly. He flipped his daggers out, the first held in a guard position in front of him and ‘speed-killer’ held behind him ready to strike.

“I don’t want to fight,” he said for the last time.

His words fell on deaf ears. The man immediately attacked the Avatar with a kick - sending Elliot back and actually hurting a tad… maybe this would be a bit more tricky than fighting Applejack had been. He followed this up with a charge, but elliot jumped and flipped above him, landing behind him and moving to block the slashing attack his opponent threw at him. He blocked another blow, and another, and dodged a third, jumping to his left as the man spun his Guan Dao and went back on the offensive, engaging in a furious series of strikes with the blade.

Elliot parried some of the blows and dodged others, but this was tricky - this person was definitely skilled with his weapon. Elliot was forced to dodge more than he could parry, and he couldn’t manage to get any strikes in because, somehow, this man was moving far too fast to stop.

“Don’t push me!” Elliot snapped at one point. “I don’t want to fight you, but I’ll defend myself if I have to!”

The man responded to this by trying to stab Elliot with his weapon… in the chest.

“Fuck!” Elliot snapped. He parried the blow - barely - but this was getting ridiculous. “Fine!”

He dodged another blow, leapt up onto a rock formation far enough away that the man wouldn’t immediately reach him, sheathed his daggers and extended a hand, and suddenly, a great, ornate form of a massive two-handed sword appeared. The blade glittered in the light of day, almost seeming to glow faintly, and Elliot grinned as the man paused in his relentless offensive to get a good look at the weapon.

“Let’s see what you make of Excalibur!” Elliot yelled, moving the blade into a guard stance in front of him.

The crazed monk took a moment to glare at him, and then jumped back into the offensive. Elliot kept holding Excalibur in a guard stance, the blade moving faster than should have been possible as the man darted forward and attacked again and again. This was still hard, but Elliot didn’t want to unleash his full power - for one thing, he wasn’t sure he’d survive it.

He swung Excalibur downward in a hack, aiming to destroy the man’s weapon. It worked… but for some strange reason, the Guan Dao would automatically repair itself whenever destroyed. The monk grinned at him, spinning the Guan Dao and aiming it at Elliot.

“You might be impressive!” he shouted. “But no one can defeat the power of my rage!”

He span into a spinning assault, and Elliot pulled Excalibur up to block the blow, forced back a step by the sheer power of it. Growling, he pushed the Guan Dao back and span with the momentum of his strike, forcing his foe to block with the haft of his weapon, which once again snapped in two from the force of the blow. Before the man could do anything else, Elliot kicked out, and the man flew backwards, dropping the lower half of the Guan Dao and clutching only to the top of the weapon.

Elliot held his blade in a guard stance still, wary of what else this figure might try to pull. To his surprise, the man held up a hand and the lower half of the Guan Dao came to him, reconnecting with the upper half. The man snorted, before once again going on the offensive. This time, however, Elliot was ready.

The first blow was a stab, easily parried. Using the momentum of the parry, his opponent spun around, aiming a slash at Elliot’s neck, but he blocked the blopw. He used his strength and Excalibur’s weight to push the blade of the Guan Dao to the ground, before kicking again, forcing the man to stumble forward. He followed this up with a slash - the man dodged forward just enough to save his life, but he still took a nasty gash to his back, and he cried out in agony.

He lashed out blindly with his Guan Dao and Elliot was forced to block the blow, but the damage was done. The monk stumbled back, exhausted from the battle and the wound he’d received from Elliot. He used his Guan Dao to support himself, however… he wasn’t focused on Elliot.

“Why have you forsaken me?” he asked the sky, collapsing onto his knees and panting. He looked back to Elliot. “I get fired… my wife, leaves me for a guy who sells refrigerators… my kids, grow up to become… disrespectful brats.”

“Who are you?” Elliot asked, panting slightly himself. With the man defeated, he allowed Excalibur to fade away into nothingness.

“I… I am… Harry Wong. I… was chosen…” he answered, and for a moment Elliot sensed a sanity present amongst the madness. Could he have gotten through to him?

“Chosen by whom? To do what?” Elliot asked.

“T-the universe.” Wong’s eyes went wide, his mind slipping back into his insanity. “And now this!? A goddamn zombie outbreak!? Seriously?” He quickly stood back up and pointed at the sky once again, “Screw you!” he yelled. “You piece of crap!”

Elliot frowned, before looking for an exit. This man was no help, and had in fact cost him time. He threw a look the man’s way.

“I don’t suppose,” he said slowly, “that you’d be willing to help me now?”

Wong didn’t answer. Instead, the man raised his weapon and, with a mad chuckle, gets it in a position so that the swing would - wait, was he going to kill himself!?

Before Elliot could react, he did just that - cut his head off. The head rolled to the ground in front of Elliot, and Wong’s neck spouted off a stream of blood before the body collapsed… though not before Elliot noticed a light leaving it.

“What the…” he muttered slightly, shocked. “Fuckin’...”

He staggered back slightly, shocked by this sight. After a moment, unsure what else there was he could do, he left the garden.

He needed to find his friends, and he needed to get out of this mad city.

Author's Notes:

Please know that Los Perdidos is based on the city of the same name from Dead Rising 3 to an extent.

Artistic License is a thing.