Fallout Equestria: Wired
By SierraSparx
Chapter 1: Digital
“Headquarters to all officers. Suspect has been spotted in the trade sector.”
“Officer Fiddlesticks to HQ. I have eyes on the suspect. Heading towards the alley behind the Krystal Kafe.”
“Officer Fiddlesticks, proceed with caution. Backup is enroute.”
“HQ, Fiddlesticks. He saw me. Suspect is fleeing, I’m in pursuit.”
“Get back here you scumbag!” The police mare barked as she took off after the cloaked suspect. Her baton rattling against her police belt as her hooves pounded on the pavement. “Stop! Police!”
The cloaked suspect glanced back briefly before he pulled out a bottle and tossed it into the air in front of him. Shattering on the ground at his hooves as he ran past. Green ichor clung to the ground and his hooves as he blazed past.
“HQ, suspect is using illegal potions.”
“You have got to be kidding me.” The police mare watched in frustration as the suspect charged a wall, and then went straight up it. Leaving a trail of sticking green hoof prints in his wake. “Oh, fuck me.”
Running along the rooftops the cloaked figure leapt from roof to roof, eliciting the terrified screams of citizens as his cloaked fluttered in the wind. The mutilated stripes of a zebra standing out in stark contrast to the rest of his body. The police mare in pursuit as best as she could along the ground.
A parked wagon proved a perfect platform for her to ramp up and wind up a tails length behind the zebra. “I’m taking you in! Give yourself up!”
Making a sharp right the zebra soared through the air, landing hard in a small alley. Getting to his hooves he tried to run but only managed a limp. Backing up against a dumpster and the wall as the mare jumped down several paces from him.
“Finally.” The mare panted, catching a bit of her breath now that she had cornered her suspect. “HQ, I have cornered the suspect. Request assistance for transport.” She spoke into her lapel mic. Glaring down at the zebra huddled in the corner. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you.”
“We cannot remain silent. It is not in our nature.” The zebra looked out from under his cloak. His eyes glowing that ghastly yellow like in the posters. “All of Equus will burn. The stars have foretold it.”
“Just shut up. I don’t believe in any of that crap.”
“We must make her see. But she cannot see it like she is now.” The zebra rose to its full height. Paying little heed to its injured limb.
“Stay back.”
“She is frightened. You begin to see.” The zebra raised a fore hoof to point at the officer. A small barreled device with a gem embedded in the hilt was strapped to it. “The stars demand your soul.”
HRSSSSRCKK
Holy shit! What the *thud* the police mare collapsed onto her chest, hitting her face on the ground. Struggling to get up to no avail. Her forelegs blown off just above the elbows by the blast and a sizeable hole ripped from her chest. “You fucking bastard….” She barely managed to get out above a whisper. Collapsing back onto the ground, rolling onto her side as she was rapidly bleeding out.
“HQ to Fiddlesticks. Backup enroute, please advise on status.”
The zebra looked down solemnly at the mare. Turning away as he pulled an amulet out from under his cloak, and proceeded to affix it to his cloak.
“Officer Fiddlesticks, respond.”
With a faint click the amulet was placed and the zebra vanished from sight.
“All units respond. Code ten double zero.”
*** *** ***
You know it really sucks being assigned to salvage patrol. I have to listen to the others, follow their stupid orders. It’s so not fair. Just like my size. I’m a filly. Well only partially. At least I’m more pony than the rest of them. Maybe that’s why I don’t get along well with the others. They are mass produced models, I’m a one of kind. My name is Unit Fiddlesticks. And I’m a Phony. To any pony not familiar with the area of Pranceton let me explain. A Phony is a synthetically created, mechanical construct. Built to act and look like a real pony yet without the need to eat or sleep. Or have emotion. At least most of us are. A few, like myself, were special projects. Unit Fiddlesticks operates on a Mark V Filly Chassis, with emotional implants and synthetic fur and skin. Only a doctor would be able to tell the difference. And I’m stuck with a bunch of dull witted, outdated, dilapidated Mark II’s. That’s what happens when the novelty wears off I guess. You’re either scrapped or slated for salvage patrol. At least I get to be above ground.
“Unit 7b3-1f define your findings.” T37-4t, our patrol leader, said in a mechanized tone.
“Scans indicate high probability of high value salvage. Access ERROR. Access restricted resulting from size.”
4t seemed to process that a bit longer than he should. He really need a good defrag and cleanup. “Unit Fiddlesticks deploy to unit 7b3-1f’s findings and investigate.”
“Ugh, fine. I’ll go ‘investigate,’” rearing up and waving my fore hooves to make air quotes. The other phonies stared back at me. Trying to process what that might have meant. It didn’t help that they looked half dead. No chassis covering, and extruding endoskeletons. I trotted after 7b to the location he had found.
“Scans indicate a high probability of valuable salvage on the other side of this opening.”
“Don’t hold your breath.” I said, hunkering down and squeezing through the small opening.
The last thing I heard from the outside world was 7b complaining about how he was incapable of holding his breath.
Inside was pitch black. Thankfully I had been equipped with low light optic sensors. It was still a bit dark but I could see enough to make my way around. It would appear 7b had located an entrance to the top floor of an underground production facility of some sort. I might as well as explore. I’ll be down here until 4t is sure we have ALL the salvage. I really hated his logic chip.
Sliding down a knocked over bookcase I found myself in the main lobby. It would seem the building wasn’t always underground. But had rather sunken at least a whole story down into the ground. “Ironshod Firearms, Fine Equestrian Steel.” I read the sign aloud. “I have a feeling we’re going to get really familiar with each other.” I wonder what they made here. If I could access the Alumni mainframe I would be able to research this place, recall blueprints and production documents. Unfortunately the Alumni cut off all above ground phonies from the mainframe. Even wiping any specific knowledge of the Alumni from our processors.
Leaving the lobby I started down a hallway labeled ‘production’. Hopping my way down the stairs to find a locked door. There must be an override somewhere. A terminal maybe? Looking around and finding nothing I made my way back up the stairs.
Back in the lobby I emptied the shelves at the reception area. The only thing of interest was a Power Mares comic. I could tell it was a cheap reprint from the cover. Still it would give me something fun to read later. I set a small end table up in the middle of the lobby and placed the comic on it. Any good salvage I could stash here until I found something to carry it with.
And I better find something good soon. I really want to get back to the surface. Choosing a different hallway this time I came across half a dozen offices. A few caps, worthless to us phonies. A Marauder chassis might be able to use them but ponies wouldn’t do business with a normal looking phony, not that I was normal mind you. Empty soda bottles and scattered piles of paperwork. Fans, a bottle of glue and some pieces of metal scrap. The office at the end of the hallway was locked. “What happened to you?”
Glass from the upper half of the door was shattered and blasted out into the hallway. It looks like something had been thrown through it. Running back to one of the other offices I grabbed a chair and dragged it to the locked door. Jumping up and carefully reaching through the shattered glass I was able to unlatch the lock. Hopping off the stool and pushing it aside, I eased the door open. The room was larger than the other offices. A large desk set half sunk in the floor at the far center of the room. A high back chair was turned to what at one time would have been a window overlooking the city of Pranceton. Now it was just broken glass and rubble.
Cautiously I made my way to the chair and gave it a nudge. Causing it to slowly spin. I let out a very filly like scream as the skeleton that was in the chair slumped and collapsed on itself. Catching my breath I noticed the single pair of holes in the unicorn’s skull. Based on the fragmentation of the bone it looks like he had been shot in the head from the front. The bullet could have been what caused the broken glass in the door. Fascinating. And weirdly disgusting at the same time.
Finding nothing of note I made my way back to the lobby. The only two rooms I hadn’t explored yet where the mares and the stallions lavatories. Other than hundred and fifty plus year old toiletries there was nothing interesting. Grabbing my comic I proceeded to the exit, scrambling up the bookcase.
“Well 7b, there wasn’t anything good down there. It’s all trashed.” I said, squeezing through the opening. “7b?” He wasn’t here. That was odd. He always waited for me to get back. Something must’ve happened. Maybe the Alumni was recalling us. I hope not. I don’t want to go back there.
Draping my comic over my back I trotted back towards where the salvage party was when I left them. They weren’t there. Or rather, not in the way I had left them. “All of them? They were like family. Even if they were stupid…” Phony parts lay scattered across the ground. 4t’s head was smoking a good hoof length from his body. Unit 45y-7z had been turned into a sieve by bullet fire. All that remained of 7b was his laser rifle alongside a bluish-grey pile of ash.
Where are the other bodies? Usually raiders died easier than we did. But this time I didn’t see a single non-phony body. Just some unusually deep hoof shaped impressions and blast marks. I’ve got to get out of here. Whatever did this might come back to scavenge. I don’t want to be here when that happens.
Grabbing 4t’s satchel I placed my comic inside for a later. Fastening it securely on my back. His satchel was big enough for me to fit inside. Which made it rather awkward to carry. Ditching it, I tore the cover flap and straps off. Rolling my comic in the flap then binding it with a length of the strap. With the rest of the strap I tied it to both ends so I could use it as a shoulder strap. Tossing my makeshift comic roll over my back I took one last look back on my mechanized friends. “I’ll find out what happened.” Fighting back a tear, I turned away. “I promise.”
*** *** ***
“Eww. Gross.” Fiddlesticks lifted each hoof in turn. Inspecting the nasty black sludge that was staining her white fur. “Why’d it have to rain? I hate the rain.” Curling back up in her small box to try and stay dry. A flash of light ripped across the sky. “Eep!” Crying out as the thunder shook the ground. Why’d I have to be programed to get scared? Stupid scientist ponies. A fainter rumble filled the air. Interspersed with several short sharp cracks. Gunfire.
Who said fillies have common sense? Making my way closer to the sound to find out what was going on. Maybe it was another band of scavengers? Or not.
Rounding a corner and staying low in the brush. The shooting had stopped. Two dead raiders lay dead in the middle of the street. No pony else, or thing for that matter, could be seen. “Blech, messy, messy.” Fiddlesticks cautiously walked up and trotted around the bodies. Several bullet wounds. Entry points on from the side and rear. These raiders had been ambushed!
Okay, freaky brain. I don’t know how it knew all that. The scientist ponies said it was part of my programing. Most of them were rude and annoying. Asking me to do all sorts of tests. I just wanted to play with the other colts and fillies. But no. I was different from them. I had work to do they said.
A few were nice. They tried to help me with my nightmares. I keep having this one dream over and over again. They said it was built in to the program and they were trying to fix it. They never did though. I was going to be decommissioned. One of the scientists said that would be stupid and was able to get me assigned to salvage. That was almost four months ago.
Freezing in place as I looked at the ground. The same hoof prints that were at my camp were here too. They must be on the move. And I’m following them. I don’t know about this. I really wish 7b was here. Then he could be all logical like. It’s too hard to make decisions with emotions. I’d need a weapon if I’m going to face them. The Alumni laser weapons were too big for me so I never got one.
Picking up some of the raiders junk and sifting through it. Some chems, a few bullets, some scrap. One had a rusty pipe rifle. It was twice my size so that wouldn’t do. Really? Nothing else? And now my hooves were bloody. The water mixing my now pink fur and black sludge. I pushed my purple mane back out of my face, tucking it behind my ear. “Stupid dead raiders.” Huffing as she walked away. “Fine, I’ll just have to kill them with cuteness,” or with my tiny filly sized hooves. What options did I have?
Picking up a large stick in my mouth as a weapon I set off. Following the heavy hoof prints as best as I could. It was starting to get muddy and the prints were getting harder and harder to follow. Trying to pick up the pace only resulted in getting a face full of mud. Slipping on the ground.
Wiping the mud from my face. Blech, nasty. Becoming less and less a white filly and more a muddy, mud pony. What? I couldn’t think of anything better at the moment. And I couldn’t find my stick. Moving my hoof around in the mud. I must have dropped it when I slipped.
The rain was coming down even harder now. There was three types of weather in Pranceton. Raining, could rain any moment, and a royal deluge. So long I as keep from falling in the mud again the rain would help clean me off. It was also erasing the tracks I had been following. So much for that plan. I guess I can wander aimlessly or sit around and wait this one out.
Placing my rolled up comic safely out of the rain under a concrete overhang. The only part left of an old landing pad for pegasi wagons. I sat out in the rain. Letting the water clean the mud from my fur and mane. White fur didn’t always look the best wet but I must say it felt good to actually be clean again. I’ll have to get 7b to do my mane…
Or I could just tuck it behind my ear for the time being. Its deep purple color glistening in the rain. It was going to be a cold night. And I’m all alone. I don’t like the night. It’s scary. And here comes the personality programming. Ugh. Getting up and crawling under the overhang. Shaking the excess water from my fur. I should get some sleep. No sense trying to find anything in the dark, at night, on my own… I’ll be okay. Everything will be alright. It will work out. You’ll see. It will be fine. Nothing to worry about.
I hope...
Author's Note
I hope you like what you see. I plan to alternate between a chapter or two of Wired and Aurora since they take place primarily in the same areas. With Wired being set thirty years prior we'll get to see the effects of actions taken in Wired, manifested in Aurora.
