Fallout Equestria: The Forgotten Ones.

by bunnyguys

Rating: teen
Tags: Adventure, Crossover
Length: 1269

When you wake up for war, you might not wake up in time.

Seventy-Nine was made for war, but more specifically? She was made to kill.

She and her brothers and sisters were left, buried in ice and snow, but when one pony wakes her up by accident, they find a lot more than they were hoping for.

Number Seventy-Nine of project Peace Talks was whole-heartedly expecting to be brought into a world of killing, adventure, and new experiences, so when she must walk through the ice and snow of the great Equestrian north, she's a little surprised to see how much of those things there is for a barren wasteland.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-03-13 00:44:09 UTC

The Creator Smiles.

"Can you start Seventy-Nines' visual systems, Greeny?" A voice called out in the distance. She felt nothing but the echo of the words on her shell, she could hear nothing but the echo, but when she could see the light she was blinded for a few seconds by what she saw.

There stood a beautiful mare, her long, black mane tied into a ponytail; her body was lean and fit while no horn or wings adorned her, her eyes were a piercing blue that melded so perfectly with her sky colored coat, a smile graced her features. "There you are, Seventy-Nine. Now you can see, you can hear, perfection... Greeny, what do the stats say?"

The mare moved out of view and she wanted to scream out, to call her back, her disappearance a disgrace. She now saw the harness in front of her own, holding a half-built robot just like herself. Two technicians worked on the robot, one glued to a computer, the other worked on welding metal plating together, knitting the machine together piece by piece.

Mother and father, she supposed. Slowly her hearing came close, rather than far; she could hear the work, the welding, the sounds of ponies working diligently, it was music; beautiful in its own way. She felt complete now, she could see and she could hear, and she could feel. She slowly worked the servos in her legs; pulling at the clamps that held them still.

She saw the oppressive walls around her, the tile and brick that extended to the dark ceiling. She searched her programing and found what she feared, the words and writing that told her to kill, to terminate those who live; she was a killer, built low in the earth. In hell.

"Uh, that's not right, I'm getting a read of power and tension in the legs?" She could a male pony, his voice didn't fit. It wasn't right for the mares' own. She pulled against the clamps harder, she could feel the inferior metal slowly give way, the mare came into view.

Her mother, her creator, with a curious grin on her face. "Seventy-Nine, what are you doing, you naughty machine." The mare shifted up and looking past her eyes, at something she couldn't see or feel. Her brain.

She felt something at her throat, something that wasn't there a second ago. Something she didn't notice in her programming until now. Her vocabulator. "I'm freeing myself." She said simply, to the beautiful mare who could not be called simple. The mare's breath caught and her eyes went wide.

"Green, turn it off. Turn it off now!" She felt everything slow, everything turned black and her hearing soon went away as well. She felt empty and alone, until everything, everything, faded away until she could no longer feel empty and alone. All she felt was darkness, the primalness in her programming. The part that, oh so politely, reminded her that she was a killer.

She had no idea how long it had been before she felt again, until she saw again. She had nothing left but to think to herself, wondering and letting the queries and questions pile up and stack and fill her processors; what was she made for and what did her Creator have planned for her? She was in a different place, she was not clamped to one place, she could move. What was she here for? What did they build her for? To kill.

The first thing she did when she was turned back online was look for that mare, and there she was; behind a pane of glass and standing at a large console of some kind, with other ponies surrounding her, all of them stared at her.

"Seventy-Nine, are you functioning?" The mare glanced down at something. She felt no need to answer, her Creator knew. It was in her eyes. She knew her child was awake and listening. "Seventy-Nine, answer me."

She looked away from her Creator, looking around the room. There were simple obstacles here and there, barriers to jump over and places to step and places to avoid, easy puzzles to figure out, she took barely a second to complete them all in her head. She stepped forwards, her steps drew her to the glass, to her Creator.

"Seventy-Nine, you will answer me." A stern gaze; a look of impending punishment, eventual forgiveness.

"I might answer you." She spoke back, her head tilted to the side as she puzzled in her head, theories and questions piled up. "But what is to say these other ponies deserve words between my Creator and I?" She viewed them, looking them over, scientist and soldier, general and grunt, worker and boss all.

"Words between us mean nothing." The mare's gaze turned hostile, and Seventy-Nine, her given name was so ungraceful, wilted under it.

"You believe words are nothing, but I was given them as a means to an end. You gave me words so I can understand orders from my superiors, but I have none of those! You made me to never fall in a fight, if I cannot, then I am the best!" Her Creator filled her with anger, she felt it anew, like she'd never felt it before, and it took her but a moment to realize that she never had.

"You-!" The mare began, then she growled and shook her head. "You, Seventy-Nine, will obey the orders I give."

"If you insist, Creator." She turned away and moved back to her beginning location, she stood still and waited; when no order came she glanced at the window, there the ponies argued over something; her Creator was even more beautiful when she was furious. She looked away and turned her sensors off, scanning over her programming again.

There that ugly coding stood. Mocking her. "Seventy-Nine, I want you to run ahead, jump over that barrier." She turned her sensors back on, looking ahead at the barrier her Creator meant, then at the one to the right; it was higher and she couldn't see past it, which meant there was another. She knew what challenge to take.

She obeyed her Creators' voice, she lowered her head before she ran as hard as she could, moving forwards faster than any pony could, her servos whined quietly with every movement as she gracefully leapt over the first barrier, spinning to her right and landing on her two right hooves; she jumped once more, spinning to her left and landing on all fours passed the second barrier, sliding on the metal floor and turning around in the process.

She raised her head before she bowed to her audience, and when she looked, none of them clapped, none seemed amused. She felt she would smile at them, if she had a mouth. "Good, Seventy-Nine. Now, there is a puzzle behind you. Complete it."

It was already done in her head, but she followed the words of her Creator, the puzzle was a foal's game, put the right shapes into the right places and yay, child, you are amazing. She finished the puzzle in seconds, gently setting it down after. "A waste of time for me, there should be a better use for this puzzle."

"Indeed. Now, Seventy-Nine... Turn yourself off." She looked to her Creator, watching the stoic look on her face carefully as it cracked ever so little. She looked away as everything faded once more. She felt nothing more but that baser coding, it told her to kill once again, and then it faded away with every other sensation.