• Published 7th Aug 2013
  • 1,347 Views, 37 Comments

Born of Sin - Unholyheaven

Stedson always wanted to breed an army of perfect soldiers. But what happens when he starts seeing them as something more than just killing machines?

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Vincent stood outside of the waiting room while his wife was in the hospital room. It had been almost two hours now, and his constant pacing and sweat had practically drenched the hospital floor. His head still hurt from the car accident, but he wasn’t worried about that. What he was worried about was the fact his pregnant wife had taken the blunt of the collision.

Finally after what seemed like an eternity, a doctor exited the room. “Mr. Iron Feather,” he said. “I’m pleased to say your wife will survive. She is still unconscious, but we expect her to wake shortly.”

“Thank god,” said the relieved husband as he let out a relaxed sigh. “Thank you so much doctor. What about Scootaloo?”

The doctor paused for a moment. His eyes shifted away as he gave the news. “I’m afraid you son… isn’t going to make it. He suffered severe trauma and is brain dead. We had to perform a C section. There is nothing that can be done.”

Vincent fell to his knees. “No… please no… there has to be something you can do!” he shouted.

“I’m sorry. Scootaloo is gone. Your son is currently under life support, but once we pull that plug it’s over,” explained the doctor. “I hate to add more bad news on top of that but… your wife sustained significant internal injury. Her uterus was severely damaged. She will probably never be able to have children again.”

Vincent could feel the entire world crashing down on him. Why was this happening? His son was innocent, he didn’t deserve to have his life cut down before it even began!

“If you’d like… you can see your son before we pull the plug,” said the doctor.

“I want my wife to be allowed to see him too,” said Vincent.

“Very well. She’ll probably awaken within the hour,” said the doctor before leading the stallion to his brain dead child. “I’ll leave you alone.”

Vincent almost couldn’t believe it. His son laying still in that glass box, hooked up to that machine. Scootaloo would never be allowed to open his eyes, breath on his own, say his first words. He had been robbed of all the things he should have been allowed to experience.

Vincent awoke in the hospital hours later. His wife was still hunched up beside him. She had taken it far worse than he had. Scootaloo still laid in his glass box, almost motionless except for his chest raising and falling as the machine filled his lungs with air. It wouldn’t be long now before the doctors would unplug him.

“He would have been so beautiful,” said his wife who had also woken up. “He has your hair and eyes, and my fur,” she added.

“We should go now,” said Vincent. His tone was hallow and without emotion, as if his soul died alongside his son.

“You’re right… I don’t want to see this next part,” agreed his wife.

The couple stood up and exited the room. As they did, they were met by a black earth pony stallion. “I’m sorry about your son,” he said.

“Who are you?” asked Vincent.

“You don’t know me yet, but you’re about to be glad you do. I understand your wife is sterile now,” he commented.

His wife looked away, her eyes filled with shame and regret as if it were somehow her fault.

“How would you know about that? Who are you?!” asked Vincent.

“The name is Happy Day. I work for a research department within Dominion Intelligence, and I have an offer I don’t think you can refuse. What if I told you that you and your wife could have your son back?” asked Happy.

His wife gasped and was suddenly looking very hopefully. “You can do that?!” she asked excitedly.

Vincent on the other hand didn’t want to get involved in anything that had to do with Dominion Intelligence. He was immediately suspicious. “The doctor said he was brain dead, and beyond recovery.”

“Well doctors tend to stop trying after the patients declared dead,” said Happy. “There are ways around death. That is if you're interested in what I have to say.”

“Give us a moment,” said Vincent.

“Of course,” said Happy.

Vincent took his wife aside and whispered, “If he’s Dominion Intelligence, I don’t think we can trust him.”

“Vincent please, we’ll never get a chance like this again! We should at least hear him out. I want my son back,” she countered.

“I know you do Sarah, but Dominion Intelligence is bad news. They’d only offer help if they want something from us. There is good chance this is going to cost us even more than what we’ve lost today,” argued Vincent.

“I don’t care!” retorted Sarah. “My son is dead. You think I’m not willing to pay whatever that stallion wants?!”

Vincent sighed knowing his wife would not be swayed otherwise. “Fine. We’ll at least hear him out.” Vincent turned around to meet the stallion face to face. “What are you proposing?”

“What do you know about the Dominions cloning program?” he asked.

Vincent immediately had an idea where he was going with this. “We know that all clones are property of the Dominion until they come of age.”

“Normally yes. But your son is of special interest to us,” said Happy. “If we could get ahold of some of his genetic material, we could produce another son for you.”

“We can’t afford that,” said Vincent. “This hospital bill alone has put us in the poor house. Not to mention the totaled car.”

“You missunderstand. We don’t want you to pay us,” corrected Happy. “In fact, I can assure you, you and your wife will be very generously compensated. I’m sure you can use the bits after what happened.”

“A clone though? I’m not sure how I feel about that,” said Sarah.

“Your son is the genetic combination of you and your husband brought to life. What difference does it make if he’s born in your uterus or in a pod? It’s still your son isn’t it?” argued Happy.

“I… suppose it is,” said Sarah. “Alright, we’ll do it.”

“Sarah wait,” said Vincent. “What do you get out of this? I know for a fact you aren’t just being a helpful neighbor. Dominion Intelligence only helps when it wants something.”

“Well that should be a simple answer,” said Happy. “We’re always looking for fresh genetic material to breed more clones. We can only get it from children, and in limited amounts. An entire newborn body however give us plenty of material to work with.”

“So our dead son is just raw material for you isn’t he?” asked Vincent.

“You could say that. But if you get your son back, does it really matter?” he asked.

Vincent could tell he was making a deal with the devil right now if he took his offer. But his wife wanted their son back, and they certainly wouldn’t get another chance like this. “How many other clones will you make?” asked Vincent.

“That’s not for you to know. This is your only chance Mr. Iron Feather. Take it or leave it,” said Happy.

“Vincent please! This could be our only chance to get Scootaloo back. I need this,” she begged with tears in her eyes.

Vincent exhaled heavily, then put out his hoof. “Very well… you can keep the body.”

“Excellent!” said Happy shaking Vincent's hoof. “I assure you this will be a win win for all parties involved.”

Stedson had finally awoken. He had no idea how long he was out for. Hopefully not too long, as it was suggested staying unconscious was really “bad for him.” He was in a locked room, and his head felt like a ton of bricks. He was at least able to walk, if somewhat clumsily. Either that concussions effects were still taking its toll on his stability, or he had been drugged again.

Stedson walked around the room, and tried to stretch his wings. That’s when he realized his left wing wasn’t moving; that black stallion had made true on his word about crippling him.

The door finally opened, and a familiar black earth pony stallion entered. “Doctor Cog! It’s good to see you’re awake!” said Happy in a tone that lived up to his name. “We have much to discuss, come come,” said Happy gesturing Stedson to come with him.

Stedson instead remained on the other side of the room, cautious about going anywhere near him.

“Are you still upset about me crippling your wing?” he asked. “If I wanted you dead, we’d of taken it further. Now come here! Your research awaits.”

Stedson finally decided to approach him. It’s not like he could stop Happy from hurting him again if he wanted to. Stedson wasn’t a fighter, and even if he was, he was still having trouble just keeping his balance.

As Stedson stepped out of the room, he was led into a fairly large facility filled with what he recognized as birth pods used to grow clones. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“Why your research of course!” said Happy. “Let me reintroduce myself. I am Lower Rear Admiral Day of Dominion Intelligence, and I happen to be very interested in your research doctor.”

“This is all… for me? For my work?” asked Stedson. “Well… you certainly got things underway. How much do you know about my research?” asked the young stallion.

“Enough to know we’re on the same page. I think your idea has some potential. I’ve actually been very intrigued in the idea of the perfect clone army for years myself,” admitted the admiral.

“Then why didn’t you start years ago?” asked Stedson.

“Because my superiors seem to think that growing an army of soldiers with the sole purpose of killing other ponies would only end in disaster,” explained Happy. “Personally I think they have simply seen to many movies where clones or robots go rogue and turn on their masters or some other nonsense like that.”

“I was told the same thing! Why didn’t you just ask? I would have helped." said Stedson. "You didn’t have to break my wing,” he muttered to himself.

“Let bygones be bygones,” said Happy acting as if the whole thing never happened. “I needed to kill you first. Everyone thinks I killed you for treason. Now no one suspect you’re here.”

“Where exactly is here?” asked Stedson.

“You don’t need to know that,” replied Happy.

“Alright… but if your superiors don’t agree with this, how did you fund this?” asked Stedson.

“You don’t need to know that either. And you’re about two more stupid questions away from another visit from Mr. Baseball bat,” threatened Happy.

“Of course,” replied Stedson nervously. “Well in order to get underway, I’ll need the right genetic material.”

Already taken care of,” interrupted Happy as he led him to another room. Inside Stedson couldn’t believe what he was seeing. A frozen child. “Scootaloo Iron Feather. Born never. Died last week.”

“How did this happen?” he asked.

“One stupid question away from Mr. Baseball bat,” threatened Happy. “How he got in this state is not your concern. The point is he just happened to die, and I just happened to be there. Now let’s get to business.”

Stedson couldn’t believe what he had just heard. He thought he would wait for the child to be born, then ask the parents for the genetic material. Some blood from a new born infant could easily provide enough material for hundreds of clones. But the whole body? This was enough to create an entire army. The idea that Happy had this child killed however was still unsettling.

“I want one thousand units for the first batch. If the initial batch shows promise, we’ll extend into the thousands! You’ll be given bits, guards, training instructors, and the best college drop outs money can buy,” said Happy.

“I’d prefer some experienced intern graduates if we’re going to do this,” said Stedson.

“Fine, I’ll acquire some interns for you,” said Happy.

“Can you define the term acquire?” asked Stedson thinking back to the dark possibilities of how the host child was acquired.

“Where is that baseball bat?” asked Happy.

“Never mind! Intern graduates are a great idea. I shouldn’t complain!” corrected Stedson.

“Alright then, we’re in agreement. I’ll get you the staff you need within the month, and then we’ll get this project on its way. I’ll be back in half a year to see how you’re doing,” announced Happy as he walked away. He turned around again and shouted, “Six months Stedson! Don’t screw this up!”

Stedson was nervous as could be. He had reached the end of his six month deadline, and Lower Rear Admiral Day was expected to arrive this day to inspect his progress. So far it all seemed to be going fairly well. Thanks to his augmentations, the clones were almost genetically optimal, inheriting only the best traits locked away within their gene pool.

There was only one problem that had been discovered a bit too late. Stedson prayed that he could keep it under wraps for the inspection, then produce a new batch afterwards. As impressive as this batch was, they all shared the same fundamental flaw.

Finally the Admiral entered the cloning chamber where the pods were held. “Dr. Cog, I trust the project so far has been a success?” asked Happy.

“Yes, completely successful in every way,” said Stedson. “We’ve found absolutely no physical abnormalities. They show excellent muscle, heart and lung development. Perfect vision as well, and the increase in aggression that we had intended. 1000 thousands units of perfection,” assured Stedson.

“Good, one thousand colts getting to fight for the Dominion,” he said as he looked at one of the unborn children still growing in the pod labeled thirty six.

“Yes one thousand… units. Well as you can see, everything is perfectly fine,” he said sweating nervously.

“So how far along are they?” asked Happy. “How big of guns are our boys packing?” he asked.

Stedson’s eye’s shifted. “I don’t know what you mean sir.”

“You know what I mean, never mind I’ll check myself,” said Happy. The admiral bent down and took a closer look at unit number thirty six. “Wait a minute. That kind of looks like a… the hell is that thing between his legs?!” Shouted Happy as he punched the pod, “What the hell happened Stedson?! You said no physical abnormalities!” he shouted as he punched the pod again.

“Sir please, those pods are some very sensitive equipment. A malfunction could damage the unit’s development,” pleaded Stedson.

Happy punched it again, grabbed Stedsons head, and forced him to look between the unborn foals legs. “How is that not a physical abnormality?!” he asked again slamming his head into the glass, then throwing him onto the ground. The Admiral began checking the other units and found the same thing on every one of them. “I said I needed 1000 stallions! Stallions not mares! What the hell am I supposed to do with 1000 mares!?”

Happy put his hoof over the neck of the still downed Stedson. “You know what? This was a mistake. I think I’ll just clean house… starting with you,” he said as his began pressing down on his throat. Happy could hear the good doctor begging, and decided to hear him out. “You better have a damn good excuse for this. What the hell happened to my stallions? Why are these colts’ fillies?” He slowly released and let him speak.

“Well there are X chromosomes and-” began Stedson.

Happy pressed down again. “I know what a chromosome is! What I want to know is why they don’t have a Y?! Who is responsible for this?!” again he slowly released.

“One of the interns made a slight error,” said Stedson.

“Which one?” he asked.

“Bic did,” confessed Stedson.

“Call for Bic,” said Happy as he released Stedson. Stedson complied and called for Bic on the intercom. “Now tell me doctor, how do you plan to fix this?”

“Sir, I can assure you they are every bit as capable as their male counter parts,” assured Stedson. “Just give them time. Come back in six years and you’ll see. They’ll show the potential I promised. They’re still genetically perfect and more than capable of living up to your expectations.”

Before Happy could reply, a unicorn walked in. “Are you Bic,” asked Happy.

“Yes sir,” replied the unicorn mare. He would have commented on how her name was stupid, but given his own name, he couldn’t bring himself to.

“So why do my 1000 colts have the wrong anatomy?” asked Happy.

The mare began to nervously explain her reasoning. “Well… I was trying to find the best genetic combinations possible. It just so happened that the best combinations I could find were located in the fathers X chromosome. I apparently overlooked that factor and gave it the fathers X instead of the Y. But I assure you, this has only improved the quality of-”

Happy struck the mare in the face, breaking her nose. As she fell to the ground holding her fractured snout, he stomped on her horn, snapping it off. “Stedson, what did I tell you six months ago before I left?” he asked as the mare screamed in agony.

Stedson looked down at the mare, blood oozing rapidly from her horn and snout. “Don’t screw this up,” he said.

“And what did your intern just do?” asked Happy.

“She… screwed this up,” he replied.

“Yeah that’s what I thought,” said Happy. He reached down, grabbed her head and snapped her neck. “That’s you in six years if they don’t perform.” He got back up, took a deep breath and appeared to have relaxed. He threw one more punch at a pod, once again damaging unit thirty-six. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to explain to a certain couple why their son is now a daughter.”

The Admiral then started to walk away as if the fact he just murdered that mare was no big deal. Like before, he turned around and shouted, “Six years Stedson. Don’t screw this up!”