Project 8: Equestria

by CommodoreGalland

Rating: mature
Tags: Gore, Princess Celestia, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Alternate Universe, Human, Main 6, Princess Luna, Original Character, Science Fiction, Other
Length: 4318

Damian Watson; a brilliant engineer and soldier, the founder of Project 8, has found himself in Equestria. Now, he will remake his life's work, and this time; he will NOT lose control of it.

Project 8: The first Super Soldier project, within the international organization: the En Jord, using gene modifications and physical augmentation. Damian Watson, its architect, created it in an attempt to stomp out terrorism across the globe. However, due to complications and infighting, he was eventually forced out of the project he worked to make; causing its eventual destruction.
After his death by one of his own agents, he is sent to Equestria. With no other ambitions left, he recreates Project 8. And this time, he will continue his work, at any cost.

Published 2015-11-19 03:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2015-11-30 01:57:42 UTC

New World, Same Story

On the moon of Earth, we find Damian Watson; an aging man of 48, sitting alone in his room, watching the blue planet with sadness. He knew what had happened, what was happening, and what will happen. He had seen it all before, and he had prepared his agents for exactly this kind of scenario. He knew he would not survive the week. The U.N. had been attacked, it was all over the news. After he was forced from his position in Project 8, he knew that his hard work would fall apart. And as he predicted, it did.

He knew that En Jord would disband his project. Why should they care? It did what it was supposed to, they had Project 20 now. Every previous group was disbanded with its creation. He knew his agents wouldn't take this sitting down, he trained them too well. He chuckled to himself, thinking about the smug faces of those same businessmen that threw him out, when they realize that what they took was obsolete to En Jord.

Damian didn't hate The organization per se, he didn't even hate what it wanted to do, nor the ones in charge. He just hated the way they ran things. It makes sense, what they're doing, but look where it got them. He looked back towards the reports on the attack and sighed. He knew it would not be long now.

He heard the door slid open, heavy footsteps come through, and a gun being cocked. Damian was by no means stupid, he knew what was happening, and he knew who was here; he has been watching them clear out his base, after all. Number 0, the leader, a bit lazy, but he always led the Project with the honor I would expect of those leading it. P8-220, 'The Tactician', 'The Black Widow', and other such nonsense. She was the first real success, although her search for knowledge and subsequent treason still severely crippled the Project. And P8-961, The Success. He was the only one to survive every single genetic enhancement available. Although his skills in open combat left him better suited as an assassin, he was still the only one, that I believe, embodied the true spirit of the Project, but the most arrogant bastard in the Project. "Numbers 0, 220, and 961. It has been a while, has it not?" They stopped.

"Why?" That question caught him by surprise, but he still knew what was meant.

"Why not, P-8 Agent 961?" He said as he spun around in his chair, "Before you kill me, I want you to know, I had no say in what happened after P-8 Agent 439. But that Quantum Data Crystal you keep with you, it knows." He stood up, smiling, "Welp, I suppose I know what is going to happen now. No use in keeping God waiting. Fire." And with that, the hooded agent pulled the trigger, and killed the one who made them all.

At the same moment within the country of Equestria; the Birds were chirping, the sun was shining, and Princess Celestia was enjoying lunch in the gardens with her younger sister: Princess Luna. It was no surprise that Princess Celestia loved the outdoors, as she found every possible excuse to spend time outside, the only thing she loved more than being outside, was spending time with her sister, and munching on a particularly moist slice of Angel Food cake. She was sure that everything  would be perfect today. She raised the sun, she was done with court today, she was enjoying time with her sister, and she had nothing left to bother her today. Yes, truly, she did enjoy having days off, just like everypony else. Princess Celestia turned her head to the sky, letting her multi-hued ethereal mane flow in the non-existent wind, and letting her white coat absorb the warmth of her beloved sun.

Until there was a scream from the palace maids. The Royal Guards, formed a defensive line between the Princesses and the source of the scream. Princess Celestia, surprised, stood up and looked at the source. Within the Canterlot Castle gardens, there lay a bleeding creature. Princess Celestia loves animals of all kinds, as she has shown on several occasions with her little ponies; and she considers herself an expert on the various types of creatures in Equus.

Seeing the injured creature, both triggered her maternal instincts as well as her intrigue. She majestically strode past her guards, picked up the creature in her magic, and cradled it in her wings. They would get bloody and require cleaning later, but for now, she did not mind. What confused the Princess of the Sun most, was that this creature wore clothing similar to what she saw her niece's husband and captain of the Royal Guard; Shining Armor wore on his wedding day, with a torn and stained, white lab coat over top.

She shook her head, she will learn more later, for now, this poor thing needed attention.

Damian Watson awoke to a feeling he hadn't felt since he was a boy. The feeling of Linen sheets and a feather pillow. Confused, he placed a hand to his chest and felt the clicking of his mechanical heart. He was still alive. Damian never had involved himself with the augmentation process, knowing full well that the chance of survival was only around 48%; meaning he never had X-098, the regenerative trait.  This meant that someone had found him, and brought him back to life. He placed his hand to his forehead and felt bandages wrapped tightly around his head. He then realized something.

P-8 Agent 961, he never missed. Damian read the reports, 100% assassination success rate, 999/1000 bulls-eyes in training, and all these without using his modifications. Damian knew that if Agent 961 wanted him dead, which he did, then he would be dead. So why wasn't he? Feeling his old Royal Scots Dragoon Guard training, he looked around the room for any possible dangers. He noticed he was in some kind of veterinary clinic, he saw his clothes had been folded on a nearby table, and he heard the sound of hooves on tile approaching from the door. He wondered if this place was even big enough to have horses walk inside, though he chided himself for forgetting that other hooved creatures exist.

"Alright little guy, lets get you your medicine." He heard from outside the door... until the door opened, and a small pink horse walked inside. She wore a standard veterinary outfit and was staring at a clipboard which she was holding in one hoof. Damian couldn't even react, his mind was overwhelmed with the possibilities this one creatures possessed. Between the seemingly magnetic grip, to the ability to walk flawlessly with one less leg, what couldn't he do with this? She looked up at him and smiled "Oh, looks like someone woke up. Don't worry, the procedure will be done soon."

Now, Damian has been around for a long time, but he is pretty sure that horses should not be able to speak English. Especially American English. But if he is anything, he is still a gentleman. "No thank you, but if you have any Dark Island; I would appreciate a glass." Now very few things fall quickly, as he learned; such as bowling balls, anvils, and horses mouths.

Communication Breakdown

"Dark Island? The Minotaur stuff? No. No, you can't have a glass. Do you even know how much alcohol is in that stuff? 4.6% by volume. Not even the Minotaurs should be drinking that stuff. It's just not healthy." Once more, Damian Watson finds himself excluded from a conversation, not that he cares at the moment, he is in company, and he is not wearing trousers. But in Damian's earlier years, he has been in situations like these before. In his current age, he might not look it, but Damian has thrown and attended a lot of parties in his youth. After stealthily putting his undergarments and trousers on, he turned back to his current host and cleared his throat.

"Am I fine to leave?" He asked with a smile. Before she could answer, another pony head popped through the doorway, and with it, a small blue orb of a creature floated down before nesting in his messy salt and pepper hair. The creature had two large compound eyes, a large mouth, the average six legs, and two combined sets of wings. All in all, the more Damian sees, the more he wants to sequence the genomes of this world. The pony however, took one look at him and sighed.

"Honestly Honey, another stray? First the Parasprite and now this? You know that's not our job." Damian reeled back, he was not some stray.

"Not this time Summer, he's a direct order from the princess. Oooo, she'll be so happy when she sees he's OK." Damian to this time to scoot away from the hyper pony, and began putting the rest of his uniform on.

"Speaking of which, she is actually here right now. Maybe you should go tell her." That caught Damian's attention, a member of royalty? And not only that, but a member of royalty thought him a special enough case to royally order his recovery? He was either really lucky, or really unlucky.

"WHAT! SHE'S HERE! Why didn't you tell me, is my mane ok? Oh, I am so not ready for this."

"Honey Mane, you look fine. Go on, I'll see you at home." And with that, they walked out. Damian slowly cuffed the Parasprite in his hair, and held it a few inches away from his face. Many people in his position wouldn't enjoy holding an insect this close to them, but Damian can see potential when he sees it. He let it flutter its way back to his head before turning his attention to his tools.

On his hips, he had a retractable baton and a standard stun gun, up his sleeves, he had two small sheathed throwing knives, and around his neck; hung his personal Quantum Data Crystal. Within the small jewel, held every secret, blueprint, gene mapping, and every other bit of information on Project 8. This is not to say that he does not have it all memorized, but it never hurts to have insurance.

Seeing that all his belongings are in order, he then began letting his mind wander until the door opened again. Through the door was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen; it was a winged Pegasus. She was around as tall as he was, had a long flowing multi-hued mane, and a coat that shone like snow. She gave off an aura of warmth and comfort, and her stride was more majestic than anything he had ever seen. If anything was going to increase Project 8's survival rate, it would be whatever he could get off of her. It was only after all of this, that he saw her crown, and he bent into as low of a bow as his age would allow. And when she spoke, he swore he heard music, "Hello there."

Damian didn't want to say anything, but he had too. These were sapient creatures, and he had to treat them as such. "G-good morning." She looked out the window and smiled.

"Hmmm, It is, isn't it?" He straightened out his back, finally letting the soreness get the better of him, "I am Princess Celestia of Equestria. Pleased to meet you." She held out her hoof.

"Sargent Damian Watson of the Royal Scots Dragoon Guards, and Architect of Project 8. Pleased to make your acquaintance." He said as he gently shook it. She flinched slightly, but he was sure this was proper etiquette. Of course, he was not sure, this was not home after all. He decided he needed to be more careful after that. The princess then took a small stride across the room, and sat down on a chair, Damian did likewise.

"Project 8? That sounds interesting, what might that be?" Damian was conflicted, on one side, he could renew his work. On the other side, if he said too much, then he would be in much worse trouble. Others in Damian's situation might be curious on how they are alive, or where they were found, not him though. He has been around long enough to know not to look a gift horse in the mouth, figuratively speaking of course.

"Project 8 was an attempt to stomp out global terrorism through specially trained soldiers. In other word, they were a protector of the people, not answering to any individual country, but instead, a collection of them all." Celestia's face contorted slightly, "And I would like to propose that I be given the materials to restart the program here... with your blessing." She looked very concerned.

"I have never heard of such a project... what might it entail?" She was being careful now, he can't say too much, but he still needed to somehow be convincing. Damian IS the Architect of Project 8, but he was not the one who proposed it to the U.N. That was a joint effort between him and the original Agent 0.

"Project 8 is an international cooperation, it always was, and always will be. If you want to know more, then I would like an appointment with the world leaders." Twas' a bold move, but Damian felt it had to be done.

"I... see, I will consider it. Follow me." She said as she made her way to the door. He followed, and out into a world in which he is nothing more than a kid in a candy shop.

Tour De Land of Pastel Colored Horses

The first thing Damian felt upon exiting the building, was the soft gathering of snow on his hair, and the sound of children laughing as they played in the snow. He could smell the aroma of freshly baked bread and pie, and the snow under his feet gave a small crunch whenever he took a step. From someone who had spent the last five years on a moon base, all these experiences were very surreal to him.

No, he had to focus. He had a job to do, he had to convince the Princess to give him the backing support to reinstate Project 8. He gave a quick look around, before realizing the futility of it; how these senses, which were neglected on his base, all came rushing back to him. He quickly turned to follow the Princess, all the while receiving odd looks, and even got hit with a few snowballs. Truly, he felt like a child again.

After a short walk to the castle, of which Damian was not impressed, he was brought to the throne room. The Princess, was sitting as majestically as ever, looking down on him. Now, Damian felt somewhat nervous, not because he didn't know what to do or what to say; but because the room felt... darker, more somber. He looked up and saw her frowning with the thousand-yard stare plastered on her face. He cleared his throat, and everything went back to normal. It was strange, but Damian decided not to question it for the time being. "I-I apologize, I was just," She cleared her throat, "Anyway, I would like to further discuss this Project 8 of yours. You must understand I need more information if I am to support your request."

"What more information do you require? Simply enough volunteers as soldiers, engineers, and scientists; also a large sum of currency would be beneficial." He responded, narrowing my eyes unintentionally.

"Well, what does such a project entail, surely you understand I cannot simply ask my little ponies to volunteer for something even I don't know much about."

"Oh, simply making them bigger, faster, stronger, something along those lines." He said with a wave of my hand, as if this were the most obvious thing ever.

"How." Ah, and there is the kicker.

"Oh, well, through training of course. Project 8 was very efficient in in training of the various muscle groups. Of course I'll need to better understand your pony physiology to properly make adjustments."

"You have been asking for a very many things this session, anything you need to tell me?"

"Well, I'm just curious. Besides, I wouldn't be asking you to completely bear the brunt of Project 8's expenses; this is why it is international." She nodded slowly, before turning to someone in the room behind Damian, of which he didn't even know was there. When the pony stepped out of the shadows, it startled Damian to the point where he almost threw one of his knifes. "Mr. Watson, This is my sister, Princess Luna." Damian gave a slight bow, although more due to him still being on edge than any intended disrespect.

"Charmed." He turned back, "Though there is the matter of where I shall be staying-" Celestia cut him off by raising her hoof.

"You need not worry, the guards will escort you to your room once you are ready." He gave a curt nod and followed the guard through a simple set of hallways, and up a tower. Now, Damian may not be that old, but these stairs would eventually become a problem. He thanked the guard, before heading into the room. He knew this was a castle, but the room he was staying in looked more like a deluxe suit than anything else. He gave the room a quick search for any cameras or listening devices; either there were none, or they were the most complexly hidden devices that he has even seen. Satisfied, he sat on his bed and removed the crystal from his neck.

Now, every participant in Project 8 has received a very specific augmentation. On the underside of the wrist on each agents dominant hand, there is a small metal rhombus shaped protrusion. This device, when waved over a Quantum Data Crystal, will pull up the information on it in a holographic display. From this, you are able to identify every last scrap on it, but the unique part; is that with some items, such as photographs, can be pulled out and turned solid for small periods of time before they turned digital again. Damian has one of these.

He looked over the crystal in his palm, as if contemplating its existence, before waving his hand over it, and pulling up its display. He surfed through the information, looking for something that not even he knew what it was. He stopped on several pictures, such as his old squad, him and his friend celebrating on a boat, on the first seven P-8 Agents, before settling on a certain one. It was a picture of a girl. Damian stared at this picture for a long time, wondering exactly who this was and why she was in his crystal. He couldn't really remember, Damian has been with many women, but for one of them to leave such an imprint to cause him to put her with the rest of his business... He couldn't remember. He thought maybe it was from when P-8 Agent 961 Shot him, before deciding it was not worth the headache, and closed of the crystal.

Not having anything else to do, he took all his tools off before setting them on his night stand. He looked down at his clothing, as if contemplating them, before also taking them off, and putting them inside one of its drawers. He then walked over to the bathroom, drew himself a bath, and let himself sink into the hot, soapy water.

Meeting of the Minds Part 1

How long has he been in this tub? Has it been minutes? Hours? Days? Damian really couldn't tell. It has been so long since he last was able to enjoy a long, hot bath in peace, that he couldn't be bothered to keep track of time. Al he knew, was that almost all the bubbles were gone. Damian was really enjoying this time, but all good things must come to an end, and this was no different. He had gotten out of the tub and drained the water, before drying himself off and walking out of the room.

Now Damian is a grown man, and is not ashamed of any part of himself; that said, when he walked out of the bathroom naked and saw a maid fixing his bed, it didn't really phase him. "Good afternoon, or is it evening? I'm not sure what time it is." He said as he began to dress himself. The maid was professional, to which Damian is very thankful, and she left without much of a peep. And once more, he was left alone... until a knock at the door redirected his attention.

An armored head popped through, "The Princesses requested your presence at dinner, casual wear."

"Your casual wear, or mine?" The head simply pulled back out of the door, leaving Damian to finish getting dressed. Once he thought he was presentable, and then followed the guard to the dining room. Despite being a castle, the room was rather simple. There was an ornate chandelier hanging from the ceiling, and a single extended table in the center of the room. Upon the table, there was an assortment of food, Damian had never really seen this much food in one place before; sure he had been to plenty of buffets, but never had there been this magnitude in one place. He then wondered darkly about who will suffer once this food must be thrown out. Sitting at the table, were several ponies, Damian recognized the two princesses, then there was a third winged unicorn, and two other unicorns.

"Mr. Watson, I am pleased you could join us. Take a seat." The third winged unicorn had said.

"I apologize, but I do not believe we have been introduced properly. As I see you know, I am Damian Watson; who might you be?"

"Ah, where are my manners, I am Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, you can call me Cadence; and this is my husband, Shining Armor." At that point, a confident, although slightly arrogant voice sounded to Damian's left.

"And, I am Prince Blueblood." Damian nodded. He was curious, why were the princes without wings, and where was the king and queen? It wasn't his place to judge, as it was not his place to be rude to his hosts. One of the unicorns, Shining Armor, spoke up,

"So, from that uniform, I'd say you were some kind of soldier. That true?"

"Very much so, although I'd say my interests have been more founded in the sciences than on the field of death."

"Such as?"

"Engineering, mostly." These ponies were asking a lot of questions. The unicorn seemed satisfied, until his wife continue,

"And where are you from?" And isn't that the question. Damian weight the benefits versus the drawbacks, and decided that answering this question, was not in his best interests.

"Tell me Ma'am, have you made your decision on the appointment?" He asked, earning a glare from the pink pony. He could see on the faces of all the ponies there that they were looking forward to that answer.

"I have, and have already sent out the invitations. They should arrive at the end of the week."

"Should?" Damian heard quiet laughter coming from the prince.

"But of course," The prince began, "There is no telling when they would show up. The world IS a big place, after all." Damian chose to remain silent after that. It wasn't that he didn't have anything to add, it was more along the lines of him internally fuming at the technology level of this place. Dinner went smoothly after that, as the ponies faded into another conversation that Damian had little interest in; instead, his mind went back to his crystal. He subconsciously started toying with it, deep in though, until a door slammed open; this, of course, got Damian's full attention.

"News from northern Equestria, your highness," A guard said, damn nearly falling over as he tried to run while bowing. All in all, it would have been funny, if what he said after didn't get him thinking again, "It, has returned." Being in his industry, Damian has heard 'it' be used to describe a great many things, and very few of such were good. But nevertheless, Damian was curious.

After hearing the Princess offer, from Damian's perspective, several halfhearted apologies to the table, she left. After about a minute had passed, Damian had also excused himself, and went off after her. He was going to know what it was, not that anyone would know he knew what it was.

After passing through a great number of hallways, he managed to find the princess; writing a letter, under the light of a stained glass window. Damian watched for a while, until she lit the parchment on fire; and watched the smoke, almost magically, fly out an open window. Damian was confused and amazed, this new form of instant information could come in handy, though he wondered if it could be intercepted. Deciding he would rather not be caught watching, Damian took several steps back, rounded a corner, and went on his way to his room.

Damian was somewhat disappointed that he could not learn more about whatever it was, but he does have more pressing matters at hand. The meeting at the end of the week. Upon reaching his bed, he began to take off his clothes, until he was left with nothing more than an undershirt and boxers. He folded his clothes and placed them on the nightstand next to his bed, before climbing in and going to sleep; complaining the whole time.