Synthetic Solution

by Stallion

Rating: mature
Tags: Crossover, Dark, Alternate Universe, Comedy, Adventure
Length: 5066

A young stallion wakes from a 150 year slumber in cyrogenic sleep, into a world ravaged by war and nature. All that is with him is an orb...

Onyx Bowtie, an amnesiac with identity issues, wakes up from cryogenic sleep in a dark basement of a huge corporation dedicated to synthetic research and manufacturing. The world he used to know now is consumed by war, nature, and a considerable lack of clean beds.

He remembers nothing of his past, or really himself for that matter. Only armed with an orb that shows to him his own past through glimpses and a really (in his own opinion) fashionable piece of neck wear, Onyx must explore the island made into a large metropolis he, along with many ponies, are now trapped on. He will encounter synthetic ponies (friendly and not), bands of slavers, nomadic zebras, near death scenarios and a really egotistical asshole.

Something bugs him, however. If he digs around in his now forgotten past, will he like what he finds?

—–

This is a story loosely based off of the Fallout Equestria fan fiction. It borrows some ideas from it, however it takes heavy liberties that may conflict with the fiction. If you have any problems with that, well, there's the door.

This story has yet to be finished, and may stay like that for some time. However, I will do everything in my power to finish this. This also may be my only story, save for possible one shots related to it. Read at your own risk.

WARNING! If you have any problems with any of the following, tread carefully:
Attempted and normal rape, slavery, explicit gore.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-11-23 05:41:35 UTC

Prologue

Synthetics.

One of the most difficult sciences to this date, even in its early days. In the beginning, there was only a few ponies, a lot of alcohol, and a dream. A dream where, in the future, the world could be built from synthetic ponies who obey every command without question. This was a terrifying prospect to think about for the few that thought about it, and thusly they drank profusely until that terror went away.

Once they were suitably drunk and ready to commit crimes against nature in order to achieve their goal, they threw themselves right into the fray. Their first problem was finding a way to create an A.I. sophisticated enough that it would have “conscious thoughts”. It was crucial in order to create a working army of robotic ponies in order to have them be able to think critically, solve problems, and hold proper conversations with their soon-to-be masters.

Soon after they solve that problem, their next step was to create the overall look to them. Appealing to the eye, hopefully not creepy like that one time where someone scribbled out one of the elements on the periodic table and drew in red ink a spooky ghost at the recreation center. No one could go in there for weeks until one brave soul stood up and said “Guys! It’s just a drawing!”, went inside the center, and was never seen again until a few months later where she was found in a dumpster out back chewing on dead mice with an insane look in her eyes.

All in all, it was simply astonishing how far they had gotten considering the chain of incompetence in their ranks. They would have gotten further, if it were not for the bombs blotting out the sky and burning their homes, loved ones, cats, lab coats (especially the lab coats), and grant money to the ground in atom splitting explosions and magic induced combustions.

Balefire warfare can do that to ponykinds progression in the technological tree. If it weren’t for the war, science would have reached a level where inter-dimensional travel was feasible, allowing visitation and colonization in other dimensions that are at least perpendicular with their own. One for instance, which was at a perfect 90 degree angle on the spatial plane of infinity, had a direct gateway to a planet similar to their own that was filled with bipedal, hairless apes who progressively drive themselves into the apocalypse by purposefully destroying their atmosphere, global climate, and personal relationships with each other. It was simply to just laugh at them really as ponykind had already solved this issue long before they did timeline wise.

Nevertheless, civilization was destroyed along with any progress the ponies had. The mainland, Equestria, was set back almost hundreds of years thanks to the brutal destruction set upon them by a continent near it that was chock full of horses with stripes covering them from head to keratin tipped hoof. They were also, observed by a soldier on the Equestrian side, “extremely boring to look at” as all of them were black and white. They were zebras, and they absolutely hated Equestria. So, they bombed the continent to Tartarus and sunk the once great empire into such a state that their own seemingly untouchable government collapsed from neglect.

Not all was lost, however. Ponies had created, before such calamity occurred, a system of bomb-proof bunkers called “Stables”, which were underground domiciles produced by a tech company named Stable-Tech. Stables were to be, in sense, storage containers to protect what is left of ponykind from certain death. Their creation, most definitely, was sketchy at best. However, that is a different story entirely and will not be covered here.

Equestria was not the only place to be bombed by the zebras. Other smaller islands that are part of the empire were targeted as well, decimating ponies who had thought they were safe due to their remote location from the empire’s heartland. However, they misjudged the zebra’s ruthlessness, and had paid the price for it.

One island of these particular few just so happens to be the one that houses a large corporation that specializes in synthetics. Just off the east coast, an indiscernible distance from Manehatten itself, lies an entire island converted into one big city. Every acre of land is covered with concrete towers dedicated to industrial life, every inch occupied by ponies of high stature, wealth, and power from the greatest of ponies, to the lowliest of the homeless.

This is not a story about the exceedingly rich. This is also not a story about the poorest soul who can’t even afford affording to afford. It is borderline a story about a pony, a scientist rather, who had decided that enough was enough and threw himself into an unfinished and exceedingly unsafe cryo pod just moments before the bombs hit his company’s tower, and fill a specially crafted memory orb with everything from his name to what year it is. His reason is never told to anyone, as he simply just went ahead and did it without anyone’s consent whatsoever.

Who is this stallion anyway? Even he doesn’t know, not anymore at least. If you are so inclined to figure out his conundrum, well congratulate yourself because you’re going to end up reading so many plot holes your brain will slap a helium mask onto itself and blissfully pass in its sleep to never have to deal with such abuse again. Probably.

Exaggeration of the possible plot holes in the future aside, let us just get this out of the way. This particular stallion goes by the harrowingly normal name Onyx. Bowtie. That’s his full name, yes. And before you consider the name, he indeed has a bowtie, albeit unwashed and rarely sees a moment away from its owner. Soon enough, that conglomeration of silk and cotton is going to have so many life-threateningly awful things happen to it that in time it will end up trying to convince its owner that maybe, just maybe, he should settle down and stay in one wonderfully dull place until it gets consumed by terrifyingly grotesque moths.

But enough about that. Ice is the main issue here.

Chapter 1 - Time to Wake Up

There’s something to be said about cryogenics. Simply put, it’s manipulating an organisms genetics so that they can be frozen to sub zero temperatures without causing them to die a slow death inside a claustrophobic glass tube. That is what the science was based on at the time, and at that time it looked like a pretty good idea.

However, this was not the case. The first prototypes in the Equestrian mainland were doomed to fail as the scientists working on it were, for starters, extreme comic book fans. They owned all that they could even possibly achieve to own, and even have entire meetings in the labeled “science meeting room for science” to discuss the science of comics. “Sword Mares” was one of their favorites, and discussion of it would range from the plot itself to how pretty the main character was (which usually stems to a much longer conversation about their longing to get in bed with said character).

Due to their extreme ineptitude thanks to their obsession over comics of scantily clad mares fighting giant monsters, the technology never reached a point where such a thing could be available widely and mass produced. The bombs made sure of that. In turn, they never reached the island off the mainland, just east of the continent of Equestria.

And so, thanks to a rather obscure comic, cryogenics never reached its full potential. This island, however, has never been one to back off and forget about what could have been. It has decided to take matters into its own hooves and take on the challenge of cryogenics from scratch.

This too, however, was stopped from the bombs. It never left the prototyping phase. This didn’t stop a certain stallion, however.

Somewhere on an island far from the coast of Equestria...

Inside the steel plated room a small glass pod clicks open. Its exposed wiring are sparking from excessive damage over the years, and sections of rubber tubing are violently thrashing about with a cold mist spewing through the holes it is now filled with. A bright light at the top of the device flashes from orange to red, and a light brown colored hoof pushes through the crack in the door of the pod. It slowly pushes the door open with what looks like extreme amounts of effort.

The door shoots open after it opens halfway, and the hoofs owner flops out of the door and onto the floor. The stallion now on the floor coughs violently, dry heaving painfully towards the floor. His head is smoking a little, black clouds swirling around him and dispersing quickly as it gets further away. After he calms his lungs and the mist finally disappears, the stallion sits up on his haunches to get a look around the room.

What he sees is surprising. All around him are layers upon layers of green dominating the aesthetics of the room. Large plants hang off the ceiling and grow to considerable heights from the floor. Flowers, vines, moss, all covering as much of the room as possible. Only small patches of what the room used to look like peek out from breaks in the foliage. Cracks in the ceiling reveal shafts of light from the surface with dust particles dancing around in them.

Deep within him panic begins to rise. He attempts to get a grip on his breathing as he attempts to get up and walk, however nausea takes ahold of him and he ends up tripping over his own hooves.

Nursing his now bruised head with a hoof, the stallion looks up ahead of him. On a desk right in front of him lies a small glass container, shaped like a cylinder, covered in wires and sigils that the stallion does not recognize. They appear magical in nature, however the sigils seem to be inactive.

He gets up and moves towards the container to get a better look. Through the smudged and cracked glass, the stallion notices a small bright yellow orb, about the size of a baseball. Carefully, the stallion calls upon mystical forces to will the glass container to lift upward, replacing the glass shield preventing the stallion from reaching it. Almost in a hypnotic trance, the stallion reaches out with his own magic to lift the orb from its stand on the desk.

The moment his magic makes contact with the orb, covering the orb in a golden light, the stallion’s vision flashes gold briefly. He gasps in shock, the entire room before him seeming to melt away in a faint tint of gold. The plants fall apart into nothingness, the damage to the room reversing itself, even the glass container he lifted seems to put itself back. It’s like he hit a universal rewind as he touched the orb, yet the room he was in seems to be just barely visible through the golden tint. The room’s spontaneous repair is just a ghostly simulation. But of what?

Golden light floats and swishes about the room as they rapidly form the vague shape of ponies. The stallion jumps in terror from the sight, but his terror transforms into horrified curiosity as one of the ponies appear to look exactly like him. Unicorn, slicked back mane (albeit more clean and straighter than what he currently looks), those black triangles about his eyes. That bowtie. The stallion reaches a hoof to his neck where the accessory still sits, and briefly feels relief from its presence. Suddenly, his apparition speaks with a ghostly whisper right at him.

“I don’t care if it’s a prototype, White Collar, I care if it works.” says the ghostly copy of the stallion. Another pony, bathed in a golden light similar to the other appears from thin air right in front of the real pony. “Onyx, I insist. The potential danger of running a complete storage without testing is much worse than dying to a balefire blast! You could freeze to death!” the apparition says. The stallion contemplates what the pony “White Collar” said. Onyx. Is that his name?

The sudden realization hit him. He doesn’t remember a bloody thing. He thinks about where he lives. Nothing. He thinks about where he works. Nothing. He thinks about a family. Nope. He even thinks about his favorite color. Still nothing. The only thing he can recall is his own appearance and this strange comfort he gets from the bow tie he wears.

He sits down to listen to the ghosts speak.

“It’s a simple question, White Collar. Will. It. Work?” Onyx’s ghost says, a bit of menace in his tone. White Collar sighs, and momentarily looks at the dilapidated pod. “I… have no idea. Again, we never tested it, though if you want a personal opinion…” he goes on. Onyx nods quickly. “Yes?”

“I’d say that it would work just fine. I built it, after all, with my team.” He looks at the ground for the moment, seemingly saddened by the thought of his science team. Onyx wonders what could have happened that made the topic to him so touchy. He’s slightly disappointed when his ghost doesn’t press him for answers. “That’s all I need to know.” the ghost says, and immediately heads straight for the pod. White Collar’s eyes flash in panic, and he jumps out in front of him in an effort to stop Onyx’s ghost from proceeding. His ghost appears to be quite miffed about it.

“You can’t go in now! It’s not ready!” White Collar protests. Onyx’s ghost golden light flashes red for a moment, disturbing the real Onyx quite badly. “I don’t have time for this! Those bombs- they are only ten goddess damned minutes away from hitting the City, and I am not going to be stopped!” Onyx’s ghost shoves the scientist out of the way, who yells out in surprise from the sudden violence. The real Onyx puts a hoof up to his muzzle. That… was not very nice.

White Collar bumps into the desk which the orb Onyx picked up was placed. The container almost was knocked over from the force of the impact, but safely corrects itself on the surface of the desk. White Collar, his determination lost, gets up sadly and looks over at Onyx’s ghost as he climbs into the pod. “Turn it on.” he says, monotone.

The scientist nods slowly, a flash of something sparkling in his eye. The real Onyx watches White Collar curiously as he makes his way over to the console next to the pod. He uses magic to swiftly enter commands onto the console, which cause the door on the pod to close. Soon, the entire chamber inside it is flooded with a cold white mist (tinted gold from the projection) and Onyx’s eyes inside it close.

White Collar grins mischievously. After a few quick strokes on the console, a number pops up on a monitor directly above it. He deftly presses a few keys, and that number increases up to 150, looking like this:

150:00:00:00:01

Y   M   W   D   H

“Enjoy your trip, asshole.” White Collar grumbles, and the entire projection ceases almost instantly, leaving the real Onyx confused, scared, and alone. The orb he was carrying is still held within his magic, symbols and sigils inscribed on it ceasing to glow its dim hue of gold.

As Onyx begins to wonder about his ghosts’ extreme rudeness, a loud banging hits the steel door of the room. Groaning and screaming emits through the crack of the slightly ajar door. Something is trying to get inside.

Chapter 2 - That Creature

In Equestria, the mutations that occurred there created the disfigured abominations to nature called “ghouls”. While a not so flattering name to the unfortunate, it is an accurate name. Victims of the process “ghoulification” have absorbed an ungodly amount of radiation at some point in their life. Their hair starts to fall out, their skin flakes, and the next thing you know they look like a poorly crafted zombie from very old and very horrible horror films.

That is also an accurate name, as ghouls have a very unique ability that baffles many to this day. Their mutation not only causes them to become hideous creatures that none would want to have in bed with them (unless they are necrophiliacs, which these days are becoming more common) it also gives them the ability of very loose immortality.

They may still die from say, a shot to the head, however ghouls have acquired an innate ability to absorb radiation without any adverse effects. In fact, it heals them. If they somehow manage to survive a horrible mauling of their face, a soak in radiation can cover up that nasty gash like acne cream on zits. Albeit leaving nasty scar tissue, but that doesn't matter as they are already suitably hideous so no one really minds.

This is in Equestria. In the City, there are different kinds of ghouls. Due to the strange bombs that in no way resembled the ones used on Equestria, the ghouls of this small archipelago have received instead a nasty conglomerate of plant matter and themselves. They still retain their horrible hideousness, just that they now have a few thorned roots for self defense and sometimes half their face is a pretty sunflower.

For Onyx’s case, the ghoul that is attempting its damnedest to get into the room he is in has several green and brown roots growing out of the side of its head, and its limbs are replaced with thick green tentacles. Except for his left hind leg, which is rotten and its odor reminds Onyx of long dead roadkill that was pissed on by a skunk, hugged by a homeless pony, and left in an abandoned sewage plant.

It wasn't a pleasant smell.

Onyx was having a really bad time.

The smell was one thing, but being screamed at by something straight out of his own nightmares was a bit much for him. If he had any choice of his predicament he would probably have chosen to sit by a nice, relaxing, and wonderfully mundane fire sipping on some cocoa on a chilly night. Not being harassed by a plant creature that looks vaguely like a pony in the basement of a dilapidated building.

Still, he’s got to do something about it. He won’t stand for it, not for a second.

So, Onyx starts to scream at the creature in fear. He scrambles to the wall nearest to him as he stares at the monster biting at thin air in the crack of the door, doing its very best to squeeze as much of its head in as possible.

He doesn’t know what to do. The door seems to be holding the creature for the time being, but Onyx is not sure for how long that will last. The door is old and covered in moss, and the creature seems to be strong enough to break through the decayed steel. He has to think of something, and quick. He’s going to have to kill it.

But with what?

There’s no guns in here, let alone anything that can be used as a weapon. Unless Onyx wanted to bludgeon the creature with the orb he found, there’s no much else. Unless…

Onyx is struck with an idea. It’s made of plants, right? Then burn it.

If there is anything Onyx remembers, it’s how to start fires. He studied magic once in his life before, most definitely. This one stuck with him for whatever reason. Onyx gets back up onto his hooves and begins to focus on his horn, causing it to vibrate gently. He wills the air around his horn to vibrate as well, heating it up. Suddenly, the air just at the tip of his horn combusts into a small and quite embarrassingly small flame. If there were any ponies around, Onyx would surely be humiliated. Still, it was enough… probably.

Onyx floats the small flame over to the raving mutant, and tosses the flame right onto its face. The creature screams as the flames hit its face, and for a moment it seemed to work.

But the flame dies out, leaving nothing but a scorch mark on its face.

Dammit.

Onyx is out of ideas. How in the world can fire not kill this thing? It’s made out of goddess damned plants! Probably one of the most flammable materials in the world! Even a small flame like that should be able to send that thing into a fiery inferno!

Onyx sighs, defeated. There’s nothing he can do. He’s going to die in here, eaten alive by this monster, and no one is going to know anything about it. No one is going to remember him. They’re probably all dead anyway. 150 years in the future, at least according to that play put on by those golden ghosts. No one lives that long, so Onyx just guesses this is the universe trying to keep a balance or something.

Onyx looks over at the pod he came out of. “Damn good use you were.” Onyx mumbles at it. If the pod had emotions, it would probably feel like shit from that comment. He takes comfort from that. Onyx then looks over at the spasming rubber pipes firing out blasts of cold nitrogen. He doesn't remember nitrogen being part of the machine, but it certainly looks like it (even if it is just a gas).

Onyx’s ears perk up. He slowly looks over at the creature, now halfway through the doorway and attempting to squeeze the rest of it through. He’s got an idea. Onyx scrambles over towards the pipe, and wrestles it down with his body. He can feel it resisting underneath his weight, but Onyx manages to slide it into an angle towards the creature. Just as he gets it into position, the creature bursts through the final chunks of steel and wastes no time sprinting full speed at its prey. Onyx pulls up on the pipe, and sprays the nitrogen right into the creatures face.

The sheer force of the blast knocks the creature backward into the wall. The plant part of its face shatters into ice shards from the impact, which instantly froze from the cold gas. It barely lets out a scream as it slides down the wall, completely dead.

Onyx’s heart is beating hard. Excitement of this length was something he feels he is never going to get used to. He climbs off of the pipe and, cautiously, approaches the fruits of his labor on the other side of the room. He examines the reanimated corpse with curiosity. What could have created such a creature? The combination of plant and pony sends shivers down Onyx’s spine, images in his head thinking up what such a transformation would feel like. He forces the thought out of his head, and looks at the creatures face.

Immediately, Onyx recognizes (what is left of) the creature’s face. The ghost from that light show he saw earlier… This monster looks like White Collar.

“You never made it out, huh?” Onyx mumbles over the corpse. He can feel his stomach catching up to him as the odor finally registers once again, making Onyx heave violently to the side. He decides the best course of action would be to leave the room immediately. Onyx runs out of the room and into the hallway, through the door the creature broke down.

Out in the hallway, the ambiance is about the same as the room Onyx was originally in. Plants dominate the floor, walls, roof, and everything in between. Flickers of light bounce around Onyx as the orb he carries in his shirt pocket begins to glow once more. Golden shadows of ponies walk along to and fro around him, some phasing through the fauna in the walls, presumably entering rooms now no longer accessible.

All this gives Onyx a sense of surrealism. This couldn't be real. To Onyx, it almost feels like a dream and he’s along for the ride. Their faces are featureless, lost forever. It's almost saddening for Onyx as they all go about their (very terrifying) lives. He's not sure anymore what is truly going on around him, for all he knows it is the orb he carries. Onyx pulls out the orb from his pocket, and examines it. The runes on its surface are intricate and extremely detailed. They circle around the orb as their lights dance about, but to Onyx the dancing lights make him feel uneasy. Something about it doesn't seem as tranquil is it wants to seem.

His thoughts are cut short as he hears a yell down the hallway. It's not hellish, like the creature he dealt with. No, it's... normal. Is it another pony?! Onyx shoves the orb back into his pocket, desperate for someone to talk to and understand what the hell is going on here. Hopefully they know. Onyx swerves down hallways, turning left and right and stops short as he nears a dead end, towards a hole in the wall with a large box hanging precariously inside on a piston. Directly in front of it, a pony with a hood over their head has a knife in their mouth, which is now hilt deep within another creature similar to the one Onyx had a run in with. Blood seeps from a wound in the creature's neck, however the blood appears to be a bright green instead of the accustomed red that Onyx sure remembers heaving out of his mouth.

The unknown pony with the knife yanks the weapon free from the neck of the creature, and slides it into a sheathe attached closely to his face on his shoulder. Is it a he? Onyx is not sure, however something strikes him about the pony's appearance. It's body is not a solid color, but completely white with black stripes covering some of his(?) body. That... that can't be right. No pony looks like that. The creature looks up at Onyx briefly, makes a short gasp in surprise, and immediately retreats into the large box in the wall. It hits a button somewhere out of his sight, and to Onyx's surprise the box is pushed upward by the piston, leaving Onyx alone once again.

This was getting annoying.

"Hey, wait!" Onyx cries out, but no reply comes. Damn it all! Pony or not, it was as close as he was going to get to someone to talk to. A thought hits Onyx. Could that thing even talk to him? Was it just some kind of mutated creature, like these monsters, just less profound? He could not tell. The only thing he got from that thing was a deep sense of paranoia and nostalgia at the same time. Some deep seeded memory stirs within Onyx, annoying him further with its inability to surface. Angrily, he stomps over to the hole in the wall, and shouts up it. "Where do you think you're going?!"

No response. Onyx knew that would happen, but he did it just to let off some steam by yelling loudly. Unfortunately, due to his lack of speaking over an estimate of 150 years, he strains his voice painfully causing him to go into a violent coughing fit and almost tumbling into the dark unknown below in the hole in the wall. Onyx gets a glimpse of the shaft as he gets his balance in shape. Along the walls of the shaft, visible cogs stick out of the sides, rusted from age yet from the looks of it have been in use for a while recently. Some of them even seem to have been crudely repaired with duct tape, strings of thread and strangely enough a rubber duck. Onyx ponders the duck with curiosity, but shakes his head. Now's not the time.

Having no other option as all paths are blocked by heavy and very intimidating vines, Onyx examines a panel next to the hole. Only three buttons are on it, along with a slot reserved for some kind of key. Probably maintenance. Two lights are at the top in their designated corners, one glowing green and the other dead and black. No light is coming out of it. Each button has a number next to it. "1 - 2 - 3" The "1" button is lit up. Onyx, drawn to the light like a moth to a glowing zap trap, presses it with a hoof. The piston in the shaft makes a horrible roar, and Onyx yells out in panic from the activation of the piston. By the time Onyx realizes that the piston is indeed not a horrible mutant creature come to eat his soul, the box he saw earlier descends into view, stopping short of falling into the abyss.

It's an elevator. Onyx's subconscious says to him.

Oh. thought Onyx himself, dumbfounded.

"Oh." Onyx says out loud, and slaps his forehead with a hoof. When he does, he finds that he just hit something extremely sharp on his forehead. While Onyx sucks on the blood of his hoof and whimpers in pain, he crosses his eyes and looks up at the object attached to his face. Right. He almost forgot. Unicorn. Onyx has felt tired and almost drunk from exhaustion ever since he fought that monster. He needs to find a place to rest, soon. You would think all that time asleep in that pod would give me enough... Onyx steps into the elevator, and hits the "1" button. Find that thing first. Then sleep. Good plan. Yeah.

As soon as the door opens, Onyx completes all of his objectives immediately. Reason being is that the moment the door opens a large and very fast staff hits him right across the head, knocking him unconscious. As the lights in his eyes fade away, Onyx looks up at his assailant, the same striped pony from earlier. It speaks, however its words sound far off and almost silent. "Sweet dreams."

Yeah. That's a girl.

And with that, Onyx goes under.