Enraptured

by gamer4COD

Rating: mature
Tags: Original Character, Bat Pony, Science Fiction, Cutie Mark Crusaders, Adventure, Crossover, Main 6, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Human
Length: 8890

Monster, beast, father. The Lancer, perfection in near human form, was to be the next generation of Little Sister protection. However, getting ambushed by Splicers and a Alpha on a mission put an end to it. A second chance was offered in Equestria...

It liked to think of itself as rather smart. At the very least it knew it was smarter then the older models. The Lancer was the future of Little Sister protection, and it was ready for that future!

Well, as ready as it was for the future, it was inversely ready for the Alpha that tore it a new one and killed it's daughter. With failure on its mind, it accepted whatever afterlife it would be given...

Only... it was given an offer. Accepting it would bring the creation of Rapture and the Little Sister it failed together again. If it declined the offer and she would just get another Big Daddy. The answer was clear to it. Now it is reprogrammed, rebuilt and resented, but it still has one purpose. Even if the world was unlike anything it had ever known, it was fully ready to dig in and hold back anything that came for its daughter.

It was her Big Daddy, she was it- his daughter!

Published 2017-03-15 05:10:01 UTC
Last updated 2021-06-10 22:33:10 UTC

Chapter one; Deal?

It was fucked.

It didn't know what that meant exactly, but Splicers seemed to think being fucked was when it broke one of their limbs or killed them. Sometimes being fucked was simply it walking around a corner by itself and bumping into a somewhat intelligent gang of Splicers who'd quickly choose another route.

It was fucked because it currently had enough lead in it to make a decently sized pipe, a cracked porthole and the two bars that were supposed to prevent that from happening were dented from a Brute knocking it around. A large, gaping hole in its side was from an explosion and a spear in its right knee that penetrated the sliding plate armour for the kneecap rendered it immobile after the fighting ended.

It decided that having its knee cracked open, as well as all of the running and fighting afterward, was the second most painful thing it had even been through; first being when its muscular system was ripped to shreds over the course of hours, days possibly, due to the extensive amount of BruteMore Plasmid needed to give it inhuman strength.

Strange, it thought, it seems like focusing at the moment, with complete systems failure being imminent, is almost impossible.

It was a Big Daddy, a nigh invulnerable protector and guardian of Rapture. A Lancer model, one of the last to come out of the labs before the civil war tore Rapture beyond repair. Sadly, to none but itself, it was dying as it leaned against a glass wall, moaning its whalesong mockery that no one could understand, not even the creatures who'd invented the sound it parodied.

Life… it didn't have one, yet it was dying. Strange how its last moments will be spent becoming philosophic, pondering how something that lived and died once could do so again. Or at least one out of two.

Perhaps it was a glitch, its programming didn't cover what to do during this; that was an enormous blank spot the scientists didn't bother addressing.

It was an it and no one needed to tell it this. It referred to itself as an it because it wasn't alive. Programming was its instincts. Killing was its nature. Guarding was its purpose. Life wasn't programmed. Nature had natural predators or abnormal sick fucks, another word it knew but didn't thanks to Splicers, who enjoyed killing. People didn't know their purpose at birth or young age.

Yet, she had a purpose… It didn't like that. She was a she, but everyone treated her like an it. She treated it like a him, it treated her as a her, although that could've been because of a minor glitch in its programming. It was her friend and she trusted it, if she was having similar thoughts, she'd tell it. She was always so talkative… Even at the scheduled checkups.

It didn't like to think about how the scientists would poke her belly and tell her she was almost ready to pop as if she was a bottle full of something valuable and they couldn't wait to discard the glass. Eager to throw away the container in favor of the contained. The people of Rapture insult and degrade it, but it always had a daughter nearby to explain its desire for distance.

The truth was it, like many of its kind, was an introvert. Even among its own kind, it and the others would rather stay apart than form a pack. Only the young ones were ever able to make it want to do something. The scientists who gave it an order and hit it with a Hypnotize Plasmid were escorted, but the act left a bad taste in its mouth that wasn't from the overly sweet pheromones from the Plasmid.

Vision failing, sense of hearing filled with ringing and blood pooling beneath and in its dive suit, the light of its porthole was fading with its existence, a much more suitable word than life.

Yeah, totally fucked.

But… through the ringing, it could just make out… footsteps?

[???]

She couldn't help but step in the rapidly spreading pool of blood. The porthole she was looking into was nearly a perfect mirror, with only the slightest bit of yellow light behind it. Frowning, she kneeled and placed her horn against it, and channeled her magic into a spell that would leave her exhausted…

Considering she had already cast the spell once, she could only wait and see what happens when, or if, it woke up…

The world slipped away like ash in the wind, leaving only her and it. She smiled as she stepped back, watching the light slowly return as well as the damage it suffered disappearing. With a large gasp, it jerked awake and panted. The light stayed yellow, so far…

It picked itself up, standing on unsteady legs and testing itself for any remaining injuries; none. With a drawn out groan which somehow echoed in the abyss she and it were in, it could've said anything from “Nice,” to “Bloodlust must be sated!” and she wouldn't know. If she could only… Ah, of course. Silly her.

She stepped forward and it immediately locked its vision onto her. It remained in neutral, but was obviously uneasy as it adjusted its grip on the Ion Laser, taking two short steps back and groaning again, even louder than the last. A clear warning. She paused and let it observe her, it was obvious it had never seen a pony before.

It stepped forward, groaning softer with lower pitch. She had to time it just right, if it got even a hint of what she planned, it would likely attack first and question nothing. She had seen these things in action and knew better than to underestimate its brute strength and simplistic approach to problem solving. If there was an obstacle in their path, they removed it; whether it was a collapsed building or mob of deformed humans didn't matter, these things didn't consider a second option to be an option.

It stopped just in front of her, a yard away, and she had to look up into its porthole. Counting her horn, she was just a few inches shorter than it. Being that close to a being strong enough to bend I-beams with its hands was just a bit intimidating. The fact that it did so without earth pony magic, however, scared her. But, at the same time, it didn't ask to be this way, and in that she could relate.

“Greetings,” she said with a nod. It shifted back a step before coming closer again. It raised a hand and, contrary to her expectations, waved at her.

At least I didn't get punched for saying hello, she thought. These creations were infamous for their hair trigger temper, the slightest reason to fight was always good enough.

Which brought a little bit of nervousness to her when she thought of the next step of her plan. Not to mention the ones that would follow. Quickly, before she could change her mind, she stepped forward and brought her horn’s tip to its helmet, right over it's throat, and cast a spell she hoped would work.

The creation stepped back, porthole shining red and weapon aimed right at her face.

"Protocol Three in effect!” it roared. The voice was deep and harsh, like the ocean itself was speaking. “Engage threat to self and terminate!”

And now it's angry, she thought, ducking the beam of its weapon. She jumped over the next one and unfurled her wings. The weapon spat a constant stream of power that cut through the emptiness without connecting, and she wasn't sure if it was strong enough to overpower a shield. She dodged another attack and shouted at it.

"I can bring her back!”

The attack ceased immediately, yet its porthole remained red. It stared with its weapon trained on her, as if debating her claim. She brought herself to its level slowly, lest she antagonize it, and settled her hooves back on the non-existent ground some ten feet away.

“You'd like that, wouldn't you?” she asked. “I can give you another chance, if you'd let me.”

It didn't move an inch, but it's porthole dimmed to a lighter shade of red. She took that as a sign it was listening.

“You and her, together. Safe,” it groaned and took a step forward.

"Give her back,” it ordered. She shook her head and sighed, dreading her next words.

“I can't do that, not here,” she held up a hoof as it roared and aimed at her again, the red light deepening. “But I can take you to her! No more surviving the Tartarus that is Rapture.”

It stomped forward and, in two strides, closed the distance between them, weapon dropping to aim downward as its empty hand clenched. She held her ground, it wouldn't respect any sign of weakness.

"Give, her, back!” it demanded again.

“I can't, she already accepted my offer.” It stopped. “She's already gone, waiting for you.”

It didn't move, the light didn't fade or darken and she wasn’t sure which was worse; an angry response or a lack of one. It could've been seconds, it could've been minutes, but she had no way of knowing how long it remained silent.

“Where?” it eventually asked.

“Somewhere that has rarely seen bloodshed and war,” she replied. “One of the safest places you and her could ever be.”

“Her… safe?” she nodded. “Why?”

“I'm sorry?”

“Why would you do this? Why would you want us? Why are you asking it now, and not before it failed…” it asked. She admitted, these were fair questions to ask.

“Because there are many things out there that can't always be befriended, and it never hurts to be prepared,” she admitted, stepping towards the Protector. “Because of all the choices I had, you would always act in the defense of your daughter; regardless of the danger. Because you wouldn't have listened if I approached you before, if you would even let me approach.”

It groaned again, a sad and mournful noise that sent a wave of pity through her. She was right and it knew it, it would've attacked her immediately if it had a Gatherer with it, and would've only been slightly more tolerant by itself. The best approach was, sadly, when it was at Death's door.

“It failed…”

“But against what odds?” she countered. “I saw you, outnumbered and ambushed by those things, fighting against that Brute, only for an Alpha to come along and join in.”

She loathed to call them people, humans or even creatures. They were creations themselves, only they were made by their own hands and greed, unlike the Lancer before her.

“Listen. I have chosen you, I chose your daughter. You could decline, right now, and she'd never notice when I bring another Protector. You know it, I know it and she doesn't,” she took a step back as it roared it's objection to the harsh truth. She expected it to charge at her, which was why she was ready to take flight when it did. She continued before it could shoot at her again. “Or, you could accept my offer, and be reunited with her. Together again as father and daughter!”

It stopped cold, fidgeting with the Ion Laser it carried. She stared into the red porthole and waited, lazily flapping to maintain a steady altitude.

She pushed it into a conversational corner and both of them knew it. If it accepted, it would have to agree to her terms. If it denied, it lost everything. She was surprised when, instead of becoming more hostile, the light shifted to yellow and the Ion Laser was unloaded. She landed as it pocketed the cell into a small sack on its waist and watched as it kneeled before her.

If she wasn't a god, she might've blushed.

“What must it do?” it asked.

Now for the difficult part, she thought. Another spell created a mirror beside the Lancer and, when it turned to it, she braced herself for the objection.

“Okay.”

Wait… What? That easy? she thought, her head tilted in curiosity. “I thought you would… I don't know… maybe-”

It cut her off. “The form doesn't matter, so long as it can function.”

Most creatures are more… attached to their species, she thought. “Oh, um… okay.”

Then again, it's a creation, like a golem but more… passionate.

“I'll also have to, twerk your programming and protocols.” The light remained yellow, but she could almost feel the glare it must've been giving her. “I'm only going to change some parameters for your reactions towards perceived threats to more… non-lethal means, and re-word your protocols to protect non-combatants.”

It remained motionless for several seconds before conceding. “Very well.” Before she could continue, it asked her a question.

“What about her?”

Her, or course it would suspect her to modified the Little Sister as well as it. She was going to be just as difficult if not harder to fix.

“She will see a new world through new eyes,” she replied.

“So, you will take away her eyes?” It asked, body language revoked of any emotions.

For a moment, she thought it meant literally taking the Little Sister’s eyes away, but she soon realized it meant the luminescent nature of her eyes and clarified that she had no intention to fix what was not broken. “Besides,” she added. “I assume you like that about her?”

It nodded as best as it could with a giant armoured neck brace, which was quite stiffly and more reminiscent of a rapid bow. Thankfully, the new dive suit and matching body wouldn't be so constrained.

She walked over and stood next to it, observing the reflection of the Lancer. Instead of a seven foot tall biped with a Ion Laser in its hands, it was nearly six and a half feet tall counting the golden horn protruding from the helmet. The helmet was still a solid piece of bronze and glass, glass which she knew to be as strong as steel, and the main body of the helmet retained it's original art deco design, with the addition of a muzzle, for the upper half of the neck and above, but after that point and all the way to the bottom of its barrel was interlocking plates also made of bronze.

The air tanks on its back were almost as high as the helmet was, with a wing nut on the top, or possibly front, of the tank designed like the key of a clock or toy. The dive suit that covered the rest of its body and limbs was pristine and free of the accumulated grime and barnacles with a grey tail flowing beneath the cape that hung from its dock and flanks.

And it's hooves… Bronze boots that covered all the way to the forelock with horseshoes that were as large as a cantaloupe with small studs and waterproof leather all protected the soft frogs and keratin. Even if she took away the Ion Laser it would be able to simply stomp on whatever was the threat and make it into paste.

All in all, it was a pretty intimidating sight.

“Is there anything else?”

"Just one,” she replied. “Your personality. Or more accurately, your lack of one.”

"Personality?” it replied.

"Well, I can't say many ponies would like to be friends with someone with only three settings,” she replied before tapping her chin. “I'll also have to add some basic knowledge so you don't need to learn everything from scratch.”

"It doesn't need personality,” it growled. She continued as if she didn't hear it.

“I'll also need to fix the whole I am an it thing, too.”

Author's Note

I do not regret binge watching MLP, reading Bioshock: Rapture and drinking in excess. No sirree Bob, not one bit.

Chapter two; Awakening

Every normal man must be tempted, at times, to spit on his hands, hoist the black flag, and begin slitting throats. ― H.L. Mencken

So I got press ganged into the WildeHopps Navy. Nothin’ but a bunch of fan-boys in drag playing pirate and cuddling bunnies off the coast of Florida. They don't loot, rape, pillage, kill, plunder or drink heavily; frankly they're pirates in name only! ― G4COD

That Sunday morning in Equestria started just as any other would've, with a sense of good things coming and lazy awakenings for many ponies. Fillies and colts enjoyed reading the funnies with their parents or scarfing down a bowl of cereal before they went off to play. The sun was shining brightly, warming the grass and hearts of ponies everywhere. It was a day promising only the best.

And, in the opinion of one mare, the best would have to be a day at the lake. Of course, the pink-and-pink mare in question invited her friends, because in her own words-

“And swimming, and picnicking, and more swimming, and cupcakes, and fun games, and lazy naps, and friends, and more cupcakes make the beatest best day at the lake ever!” Pinkie Pie plonked along in that unique mode of transportation only she could pull off, the basket on her back stuffed past capacity and overflowing with plenty of snacks, paper plates, drinks, paper cups, a fully inflated beach ball and some paper napkins. The sun was still a ways off from noon and she had convinced her friends of one of the immortal truths of the world.

You have to wait thirty minutes to an hour before you go swimming and, seeing as everypony had eaten at least an hour ago, logically that meant they must go swimming now.

In reality, she popped out of various impossible hiding spots and rambled on about how since nopony had any plans that she knew of, having kept a very up to date scheduling calendar and day planner that would've impressed Twilight, then they should all go to the lake and have fun.

Afterwards, Rainbow Dash swore to park her cloud house an extra fifty feet up, just in case Pinkie used the trampoline while she was in the shower.

Again.

Plonk, plonk, plonk down the street she bounced, listing many of the things she was going to do while keeping a few to herself, such as the pranks. Maybe she would run home after a while and grab her snorkel, so as to keep the emergency ones tucked away for emergencies. Maybe she would beat her cannonball splash record, a full fourteen foot high plume of water reaching for the clouds, unless she was feeling like taking a more gentle approach as her friends gape at her masterful bending of the laws of physics.

See, Pinkie doesn't break the laws of physics, she literally befriended them and they enjoy playing around the eccentric mare. Breaking them would hurt them, and Pinkie Pie always makes it a point to never hurt her friends; especially the abstract ones.

Within no time, but still enough for her to come up with a few less-than-innocent ideas that were somehow still PG, she arrived at the park and soon found the perfect spot by the lake. It even had a nice oak tree to provide shade. Now all she needed was-

“Hi everypony!” she loudly greeted the lake goers already there, receiving a few waves in return. Of course, she didn't need to wait for her friends, she was friends with everypony in Ponyville after all, she just needed to wait for the group of friends she was going to be playing with today. It was promising to be the bestest best day at the lake ever, she could feel it in her Pinkie sense.

Although, sweaty ears was a tad bit unusual and had yet to be puzzled out.

Everyone was bringing something; Fluttershy was bringing the blanket, Rarity and Applejack were bringing their younger sisters, Rainbow Dash was going to stop by Scootaloo’s house and see if she wanted to come, Twilight was bringing a book, or more likely six Pinkie thought with a giggle, while Spike was bringing himself, one of the most important things anyone can bring to anything being themself after all.

Followed by clean cupcake wrappers.

By noon, everyone had gotten several hours of fun in the sun and the picnic was well underway. Everything was going peacefully according to the non existent plan. Which would usually ticked off unworldly forces like Fate and Murphy. Even Discord, the reformed god of chaos he was, would've been tempted to upset their lovely day.

None of them would dare however, Sunday's shitstorm was already scheduled and reserved by another higher power

I had a migraine and I was lying on my stomach underwater.

Now before you assume anything, understand that Big Daddies in general started out with the sole purpose of working deep, deep beneath the ocean for long periods of times, building and maintaining the city beneath the waves. Even a Lancer like me, the first Big Daddy model to be built exclusively for combat, needed to be able to go outside and occasionally perform some task or another. Gather coral for one of the scientists, grab a Adam Slug someone saw through a window, brace a broken pipe until a Rosie could get there to fix it.

Yes, the sensation of an entire ocean on my shoulders is very familiar to me.

But, while I was underwater, I could tell by the constriction of my dive suit that it was nowhere near the familiar pressure I would usually work with. The EmotiGel that covered the inside of my helmet was softly glowing white and I could hear a musical tone fading.

Why my creators added that was beyond me, but it meant the massive headache I had was from an update. It was much worse than any of the three updates I'd been through, which made sense to me. A Big Daddy having their programming updated is a semi-normal thing for us. Last I heard, the Bouncers had almost two dozen updates between the moment they first started being Protectors and the complete breakdown of Rapture.

Mine were mainly minor things such as how hard my normal walking steps should be to avoid unnecessary damage to the city, waving at people in an attempt to seem less monstrous, which didn't work and instead made people aware that the deadly leviathan had noticed them, or what I shouldn't shoot by accident. How was I to know a Ion Laser is incredibly effective against electronics? No one programmed me to know that, yet I was still blamed for it.

As I established, my programming has been altered before, although… my protocols were never changed. Three simple rules ensured I located, protected and escorted the Gatherers, the scientists, or whoever hit me with a Hypnotize Plasmid, and myself. I could still feel them, but they weren't the same. Different… and Protocol One was changed more than the rest. No more need to find a daughter, just a desire to find mine. To protect her, teach her, raise her.

Love her… I never loved any of the daughters, but I did prefer mine over the rest. I guess all Big Daddies had their own preferences, and some may have preferred my daughter over the rest, but like I said; we were solitary creations, especially amongst our own kind.

If any of the Big Daddies ever truly loved their daughter, it would have to be the Alpha series. But, even then, they had an axe hanging over their metaphorical necks that drove them to find their bonded daughter when they were separated. They also refused to work after their bonding took place.

Lazy, paranoid bastards.

My EmotiGel changed back to neutral yellow and I picked myself up. I looked around, at my hooves, in the surrounding water, at the surface of the small body of water I was at the bottom of, a small lake or pond, with a few dozen yards of water weighing down on me. Effortlessly, I withstood it.

My visor light up the floor of the body of water in a dim yellow. While my porthole shined with the colour of the EmotiGel that covered the inside of my helmet, it didn't reflect the light and blind me. I'm not sure how, but there again I'm also not sure how they molecularly bonded glass with steel.

Other than a few small fish, some plants and a few ponies swimming above me near the center of the lake, I was alone. I took only a few seconds to enjoy the solace before I marched for the shore.

I had a daughter to find… I also realized I didn't know what she looked like.

Faust-erased!

I snorted in annoyance at the minor problem. Of course I'd recognize my daughter without knowing what exactly she might look like, I could be blind and deaf but her pheromones would never lie to my sense of smell.

But asking around for a filly that smells wouldn't be the best plan for finding her, it might even ostracize us even more than what I expected, especially considering I would likely be the only one who'd be able to actually smell it.

Crazy giant stallion in massive, armoured dive suit arrested for smelling schoolhouse of young fillies, admits to planning a visit to orphanage next, I pictured the front page of a non-descript newspaper and groaned in exasperation. I can see it now.

Regardless, I would have to surface and have a look around before I could make any actual plans. And open my dive suit to the outside air, so as to not exhaust my limited amount of air in the scuba tanks on my back. I, like all Big Daddies, seal it shut before engaging in combat, or obviously before going outside of Rapture, due to the specialized mixture within the tanks specifically made to provide the very best atmospheric pressure and breathability for working deep under water or fighting.

It actually made me a little bit stronger as well, something to do with a chemical in the mix and the percentage of oxygen, nitrogen and other gases.

Shaking the thoughts of unimportance away, I stopped walking and looked at the twin pillars of wood ahead of me, far enough apart that I could even turn around between them. The surface just a foot or more above above my eye level and a few more steps through this gateway would bring me to the land of ponies, open skies, (mostly) safety, fatherhood and life…

I groaned and focused on the shaded beach just a short distance in front of me, thinking. Everything was different, new. In an attempt to focus myself, I read my protocols and summarized them into three simple rules.

Protect your daughter.
Protect your friends.
Protect yourself.

Three sentences that shall shape my newly given life. Each one ran on past the shortened version, a paragraph apiece. My old protocols never ran on like these did, they were simple. My new ones were complex. My programming swelled past its former size threefold, with more than a hundred files edited and a dozen and a half new files, each one imprinted into my mind for future reference. Only one new file truly caught my attention, how could it not with the name Ion Laser Operation.

Well… all else, I won't have to stomp my foes into paste. With my Ion Laser I could burn them into piles of ash or cook a hole through their center of mass. I'll read through it once I find her.

With that, I walked through the two pillars and ascended towards the future. I didn't even realize the pillars were actually the supports for a small pier until after I was halfway out of the water and standing on the splintered remains of some wooden boards.

And my first impression is the destruction of property, I groaned in exasperation, once more picturing a non-descript newspaper. Bucking brilliant.

Author's Note

Elect me as your chef, and I'll cook delicious rabbit stew every day; we got enough of the tasty little bastards! What are you guys booing me for?! Pets? Why would you... Oh... Right. WildeHopps. :twilightoops:

"Make him wake the plank!"

Chapter three; Observations

“I really appreciate you coming on such short notice, Luna,” Twilight said as the two walked into the foal and youth wing of the hospital.

“T’was no trouble at all, dear Twilight,” she replied. “I will admit, a filly appearing by magical means and falling into the local lake would be worrisome enough, but what you sent my sister and I all but demanded my personal attention.”

I walked onto the sandy beach, ignoring the damage I did to the pier in favour of observing my surrounding and observers. The sky was a light, carefree blue. I swallowed my nerves at the sight, it went on forever and I suddenly no longer felt like a Big Daddy. I felt small… insignificant even, just by looking up. Back in Rapture, I'd never get this feeling when I went outside the walls of glass and steel and into the ocean’s embrace. The seemingly empty expanse would go on past the lights of Rapture until it became too dark to see anymore, but the sky…

I've never seen a mile before, yet here I was looking at clouds, mountains and even a forest that had to have been dozens of miles away.

It hit me just how little I knew of the world I had left; the surface I've never seen, if it was anything like this one, must have had cities that could rival Rapture in size with ease. There’s so much room, I thought, there could be cities that make Rapture look like a model. A small, but very unique, model.

And the town I was in, by the looks of it, probably covered just as many if not more square miles. Strange, yellow kelp like plants made up the majority of the roofs atop white walls with thick, wooden supports. Most of the houses were one or two stories tall, which made sense seeing as to how they didn't need to build upwards to make the most of limited space.

I brought up a file that had just finished installing and gave it a once over. Gen-Kno 101 wasn't the largest file I had but it was the most useful for this moment. I was likely near or in Ponyville, a small village of the country Equestria, which was a major power of the Hoofprint continent and the planet I was on is named Equis; made up of many pony species which include earth ponies, unicorns, pegasi, crystal ponies, thestrals, zebras, changelings and alicorns; their edible foodstuffs included hay, fruit, flowers, vegetables, pastries and a somewhat vague sub-file about the general diets of the various aforementioned pony breeds; social skills, some common knowledge, little history, some basic manners and the etiquette for interacting with royalty. Each of those had one, two or even three sentences with the bare minimum of knowledge needed to avoid trouble, but the last folder in the file, which I didn't name, only had one sentence. Learn more and update this file.

Not the most helpful of files, but it would act as a starting point and, so long as I add whatever I learn to it when I rest, I would be able to instantly access the knowledge without fault should I need a refresher on anything.

I don't think the other kinds of Big Daddies had that feature, but a great memory was something all Lancers had. I could recall the faces of my creators perfectly and, while that may not sound so useful, I never forget a face. Especially one attached to a Splicer that engaged my protocols or attacked another Big Daddy.

If they weren't killed and they got away, their faces and what I knew of them were added to a file I made and should I see them again, I'd immediately go on high alert or attack and kill them so long as it wasn't in violation of my protocols or against my programming.

Returning myself to the present, having spent a few seconds reading and thinking, I panned over the crowd of unnaturally colourful ponies that made it seem as if they'd popped out of a children's book the Little Sisters would read now and then. Of course, what passed for children's books in Rapture generally focused on how Rapture was a wondrous paradise while the surface was a never ending nightmare.

Even the normal children were programmed in their own way.

As I looked the herd over, I meticulously made as many notes on their expressions as possible. Many were obviously cautious, some were outright scared and a minority seemed largely indifferent to me. No weapons of any kind, no armour and, to my surprise, one BruteMore addict. I had to keep myself from staring at him for too long, lest I be the antagonist and start unnecessary trouble for myself.

He was just sitting there drinking something from a very small teacup and watching me with polite interest, muscular as can be and nearly a foot shorter than me with, laughably, miniscule wings.

I guess that BruteMore does shrink certain aspects, I thought as I turned away from my inspection of the Brute. A file was already made for him and read: White Pegasus Brute, moderate threat assessment and mild temperament. Suspicious, but not immediately hostile. Advised caution.

I heard someone shouting incoherently behind me and turned my head, felt nice to work that creak in my neck out by the way, to see an earth pony with a fishing rod fighting something in the lake. My guess was he never even noticed my destructive arrival as he was too caught up with his catch.

Turning forwards again brought me my first introduction of this world, it also brought snacks because pink horrors that are crazier than a mob of Splicers playing charades, one of whom tried to drag me into the game for reasons to this day I couldn't comprehend, still need to eat.

I don't know what was going through her head when she smashed a cupcake into my porthole, but my programming stated her intentions were non-hostile so I didn't impale her. The small pasty had pink icing, made out of pink cake and covered with a pink paper cup-like wrapper… It was quickly becoming my least favorite colour, and I never even bothered to have a favorite colour before.

She started bouncing and singing something about greetings and well wishes. I caught a few bits of the song as I turned around and did my best to wash the pastry off in the lake to only moderate success. Not even a day in this thing and it’s already getting dirty, I grumbled as I splashed my hooves in the water again. Typical.

Shortly after I cleared my vision to a satisfying degree, I turned around just as she was sliding on the ground and spreading her forelegs in some grand gesture, panting from her little musical and looking up at me with an expecting look.

“Well,” she panted. “What did, you think?”

“Of what?” I asked. My voice as deep as the ocean and just as harsh, but with a slight echo from my helmet and a strong sense of indifference and slight anger colouring my words. “Your lack of forethought and self control? Or the song and dance I didn't pay attention to?”

“My Welcome to Ponyville song, of course,” she answered cheerfully. Just my luck, the first pony I meet is as dense as my helmet.

“Didn't pay attention,” I reiterated, or more like repeated seeing how she didn't catch the meaning from my earlier answer.

“Oh,” she frowned. I thought that would be the end of it until she jumped back onto her hooves with a wide grin. “Then I'll just have to do it all over again!”

Whether this mare had brain damage, ate borax and washed it down with bleach when she was young or simply a natural born idiot, I didn't know. I didn't want to know. I also didn't want to hear her song and see her dance, which ended before it began when I walked past her.

“Hey, where’re you going?” she yelled before jumping into my path.

Obviously, subtlety is not my strong suit. Bluntness and indifference to the suffering of most others on the other hoof…

I leaned down and brought the front of my metal muzzle directly against her fleshy one before opening the vents to the outside with a thought, located not on the back of my helmet but now conveniently in front of my nose, and snorted a small cloud of steam in her face.

“Somewhere preferably far, far away from you,” I stood back up to my full height to empathize my statement. I was easily two feet taller than her on all fours, discounting the horn. The sharp horn that housed my Ion Laser, I assumed. Not like there was a lot of other places it could be, but I would have to read the new file to make sure.

I breathed the fresh air in for the first time and froze. I could smell her, my daughter. Turning from the shell-shocked looking mare, I tracked the scent to a red and white checkerboard blanket spread out on the ground by a tree and looked it over.

To one direction was the lake, where the pheromone trail was strongest, while to my right was a much, much fainter trail that headed towards the rest of the town. The blanket itself had a pool of the scent in one specific spot where it was strongest that was directly connected to the strong trail, while the fainter pheromone trail separated from it and formed a second pool a few feet away from the stronger one.

Something or somepony came in contact with my daughter.

The worst part, however, was the stronger pool where my daughter was for a short amount of time only had a trail to the lake. It was as if she vanished or disappeared instantly from where she was laying. I could follow the faint trail, but that had little to no guarantee of intersecting with anywhere my daughter had been sent to.

“Why are you smelling our picnic blanket?” the pink mare had somehow managed to not only climb on top of me without my notice, but also leaned over my helmet to stare into my porthole. I realized she wasn't attempting to tear me apart with hooks about the same time as I was crouching down to leap onto my back and flatten her beneath my bulk.

Pity, I thought as I stood up again.

“I'm trying to find my daughter,” I answered reluctantly. It was highly unlikely that the village idiot would be of any help, and if she was I'd just have to grit my teeth and leave her with some string and a paperclip to amuse herself once her usefulness ran out.

Shame I didn't have either of those, but I was also sure an empty cardboard box would work just as well.

“Adorable little filly with a dress and ribbons?” she asked with a widening grin.

“Possibly,” I answered eagerly. Maybe I'll make a token effort to find a big box for this mare if she proves useful.

“She fell outta the sky from this ball of light about a half hour ago and landed in the lake,” she gave me an inquisitive glare before she continued. “Kinda like you did, but you sunk and she floated. Are you sure you're related to her, mister heavy-bottoms?”

Did, did this idiot call me fat? I wasn't happy, or neutral, but I also wasn't murderous rage angry… annoyed seemed to best describe the feeling. I could already tell she would be a large source of annoyance in the future so I decided to establish my dominance there and then.

I swung my head and threw her into the center of the lake about thirty yards away, I think I may have even smiled when I watched the large plume of water. It made me feel better. It also got rid of the only pony who'd approached me, one who was also useful, but I should be able to find some-

Pink… Once again, I had a porthole smeared with pink. The moment I turned away from the lake, she was right beside me with one foreleg pulled back as if to throw a punch. Of course. Teleportation, why anyone would have wanted that Plasmid was beyond me. One of the most expensive Plasmids that was also the least stable, they marketed it by saying insanity wasn't a side effect, but a benefit.

Until they realised they had no way to keep anyone with it in prison or out of locked rooms. Ryan had to post additional security to the topmost floors incase anyone tried to teleport out of the city. Of course, he couldn't simply take it off of the shelves, that would be logical and effective as well as against his beliefs on how business shouldn't be restricted.

But none of that explained how she was, to my limited vision, completely dry.

Bloody Tartarus, I groaned as I sat down without any attempt at doing so gently. She was staring at me with an expectant grin that slowly faded as I glared at her through my filthy yellow porthole.

“Aww,” she whined. “How am I supposed to give you surprise cupcakes if you're wearing that suit?”

“That's the point, you dullard,” I sighed. “Now I got to go wash this mess off, again.”

“Oh, here!” I watched through a little bit of clean porthole as she reached into a small, overflowing picnic basket and held out a stack of napkins, smiling bashfully. “Sorry about getting your suit messy.”

Well, if all else, at least she knew some manners. I grabbed the stack with my booted hoof, the napkins crumpling it in my magical grip, and wiped my porthole. It left some smears, but my vision cleared enough to see her looking thoughtfully at me.

“You missed some,” she giggled. “Here, let me get that for you.”

Before I could react, she leapt forward and licked my porthole!

I wonder if she would survive without lasting, crippling injuries if I threw her into a tree, I thought. It'd go against my programming, however, and that only added to my anger. My programming said as long as she wasn't seriously injured, crippled or killed by my actions, I could take moderate measures to protect myself as long as she wasn't a real threat to me. At the most, I could just throw her into the lake until she proved her hostility.

I couldn’t beat her until she had a near death experience, but I also could push her around as long as it wasn't near a cliff. Hooray for morals, I mentally mumbled.

“Thanks,” I said sarcastically. “I always did enjoy total strangers licking me.”

Sadly, this wasn't the first time I'd been violated by someone's tongue. Depressingly, this time I couldn't grab her by the jaw and rip her face in half to prevent it from happening again.

Some Splicer got drunk on rotgut, just walked up to me, bent over and licked my groin like I would somehow take my dive suit off and impale the drunk right there.

The worse part was the Splicer was a guy and the mess he made when I separated his face stained my crotch. Confused the hell out of the scientists until someone watched the security film. Thinking back, their faces were kinda funny.

“You do!?” she yelled gleefully. “I always thought I was the only one!”

It took a moment for me to respond, but when I did I put as much anger behind my words as I could; which is quite a lot. “You are the dumbest thing I have ever met and that includes Leeroy Jenkins, an utter dumb-plot who tried to kill me by himself with only a pipe wrench and charged me while screaming his own name!”

I punched that idiot so hard his neck snapped and then stomped his chest in for good measure. Good times, I'm going to miss excessive violence now that I can actually enjoy it but can't partake in it over the slightest excuse… I mean reason.

She gasped, her eyes teared up and her mane starting losing its puffiness. I was actually shocked when, instead of crying about my insult, she once more leaped forward and wrapped her forelegs around my neck. I was just about to grab her and throw her as far into the lake as I could when she said something.

“Somepony tried to kill you!? Oh no wonder why you're so unhappy and angry and a big ole meanie pants!”

Seriously, I thought. I just insulted you and you're hugging me.

“Now don't you worry, auntie Pinkie is here and won't let anyone hurt you,” she sniffled as she released me and backed up a few steps.

“I'm absolutely sure we have no relation,” I grumbled. Stupid, crazy mare just smiled knowingly and ignored my comment.

“Now how can I make you feel better, hmm?” Pinkie asked, a fitting name for the pink mare. I considered telling her I left a big rock at the bottom of the lake and watching her drown trying to get it, but as much as I would like to get rid of her via loophole, she still had some usefulness to me.

“You said you may've saw my daughter earlier. Do you know where she is now? I really need to find her.”

“Well,” she said, drawing the word out. “After my friend Applejack saved her from the lake, my other friend Twilight brought her to the hospital incase she was hurt because she wasn't waking up and my other, other friend Spike-”

“Pinkie,” I interrupted her, nearly shouting to catch her completely attention. “I really need you to focus. Can you do that, scatterbrain?”

I swore I heard some kind of thunk, thunk, thunk when she nodded enthusiastically.

“Okay,” I sighed. “Where's the hospital?”

“Oh! It's this way,” she jumped up and… bounced away.

“You could just point me in the general- Ah buck it.” I stood up and followed her. It seemed like she was traveling the same direction as the faint trail, so maybe I could keep an eye out for a box and get my headache to finally start fading away.

Author's Note

Protocols,
Programming,
Personality.

Protocol One, in effect under cause; locate your daughter.

Questions? Comments? Let me know below, and I'll reply just before I post a new chapter.

Chapter four: Unsure

Her name was Gentle Current. She knew this because the nice lady told her, and proper ladies do not lie. She felt funny and there was a disturbing silence she noticed. The lady told her about this, a warning that her best friend may not make the trip, but the lady promised her that her daddy will try to be there when she wakes up.

Her daddy wasn't, there was only a large blue pony with wings and a horn, an alicorn we all know, looking through her belongings. A stained and torn dress lay discarded on a nearby chair, but it was the folded scrap of paper, water stained, that held Princess Luna’s attention. Unfolded and held before Luna and Gentle, it depicted an alien face, Gentle's previous one, drawn in pencil by a great artist, shaded expertly. Gentle looked down and brought a hoof to her muzzle. The lady did not lie, she smiled and sat up, intent on introducing herself.

The sound of something solid hitting the ground gave her pause, her shark tooth, a gift from her daddy and proof of his immense strength. It floated to the mare’s face in a cloud of blue, curiosity clear in Luna's features. Gentle starred as well, magic never lost its appeal to the Little Sisters and many hours were spent debating it.

“That's a shark tooth!” the young filly shouted.

Let it be known that no child knows that value of patience, or volume control.

Luna gasped, she may be a few millennia old but she could still be surprised like anypony or anybody. Caught going through a young filly’s belongings, she blushed and turned to apologise but stopped stunned by the happy, innocent smile and non judgmental eyes. Eyes that glowed a pale yellow with golden pupils. The scerala was the brightest, which begged the question of how the filly could even see. Luna realized she was staring and cleared her throat.

“I'm sorry, what was that?” she also forgot what the filly had said not ten seconds prior.

“I said that's a shark tooth, my daddy gave me it.”

Well, Luna’s first guess was a dragon or manticore, but a shark's tooth was still quite impressive.

“Oh, did he find it at the beach?” she asked. The good news was the filly didn't seem affected by her brush with drowning at all.

“Nope, it was embedded in his arm!” Gentle proudly said.

Luna blinked. And then blinked again. “He just found it in his… arm?” There were a few reasons to wonder at the filly’s sentence. Last she checked ponies didn't have arms, for one thing.

Gentle giggled. “No, silly! The shark bit him.”

“He was attacked by a shark! I hope he didn't get hurt too badly.” Even in Equestria shark bites did still happen, unfortunately.

In comparison to humans, ponies taste better for shark's, so the frequency of attacks was statistically higher than on Earth, as well as the lethality of said attacks. See, not outright paradise. However coconuts have never killed anypony, so take that as you will.

“He's fine, thank you for your concern.”

“That's good to hear, and may I say you're very polite.”

“Thank you!” she smiled

My designation is Lancer-twenty nine, the thirtieth of my kind. The original prototype was Lancer-zero, he lasted only three weeks. At the peak of our trials, he eliminated eighty-four threats, a high goal to best.

I am a Lancer. I am a fighter, there is no problem I cannot solve without considering violence. To the violent, I am vengeful yet tolerance survives pressure, intolerance does not. To aid another Big Daddy is almost taboo, however I have noticed that Bouncers and Rosies are the most likely to help each other, usually in combat, sometimes with maintaining Rapture or removing a blockage.

Rumblers are flawed, Lancers are perfect and the last capable Alpha fell years ago. Big Sisters are NOT to be protected, they are no longer our charges, if one is in danger… I honestly doubt I or my fellow Protectors would fight for them. They are not our problem, they do not want our solutions, they are not ordered by any but their Mistress; until her death, that is.

Even after, they carried on like the Rosies. They still desire to serve their purpose, which is to protect OUR charges, from us even, and to kidnap innocent children for a procedure which no one is knowledgeable enough about, or willing, or even alive, to carry out.

These Big Sisters tote around terrorfied little girls, looking to continue on as normal… I'm not even sure they understand why their Little Sister is so scared of them. Or why the little girl screams for her mommy and daddy.

We Lancers, however, knew that this was the final generation of Little Sisters. It's comforting to know our charges have left us, disheartening to see our former charges lose themselves to the madness, painful to admit that these new girls, although they are not our charges, will forever weigh on our minds.

Big Sisters are not our enemy, or family or even fool… they are victims, bringing the innocent deeper and deeper into our personal punishment, our halls of Hell, creating more victims. And my programming betrays my desires; ignoring their screams, I continue searching for a real Little Sister… I can not help them. Big Sister or her false Little Sister. Weakling.

I realized that I was thinking too loudly to hear Miss pie as she spoke. "Are you listening to me?" she asked, an eyebrow raised in question.

"No, ma'am." I replied.

"That's okay," she laughed. "You must have a lot on your mind, just remember that you owe me a surprise party!"

"Am I to surprise you or…"

"There's the secret!" she laughed loudly.

"...I will attempt to see to it."

Pinkie Pie nodded and hopped forward, leading me through the intimidating township she called home. Every single pony stared, some in awe while most in fear. None could see how nervous I was.

Author's Note

I'm still scared about writing, but facing your fears is good.