• Published 9th Apr 2012
  • 11,906 Views, 1,115 Comments

Fallout: Equestria - Memories - TheBobulator

One crazy pegasus, one roboleg, a contingent of Steel Rangers, and an adventure of infinite detours. Put all that together and what do you get? A rip-roaring mosh pit wrecking its way across the Wasteland, leaving nothing but confusion in its wake.

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Intermission: Intrusion in progress…

Intermission: Intrusion in progress…

“Don’t worry. I’m not supposed to be here either.”

Several weeks ago…

Nopony ever looked twice at a lowly recruit dashing back and forth from office to office, coffee in hoof and mail bag flapping behind him. It also really helped that Severe Turbulence had the most generic-looking face possible, which in turn made him hard to remember. A little mane dye to paint his outstandingly yellow mane a more generic shade of pastel orange to match his equally generic sky blue coat, and suddenly he was impossible to pinpoint in a crowd—something that he used to his advantage.

One stolen coltfriend’s uniform and four stolen “venti” coffees (plus convenient holder) later, Turbulence simply rushed right into the auxiliary data center and picked up the first mail bag that he found, all without being given a second glance. Entry had been the easy part—obtaining the data that he’d been hired to find was the hard part.

He’d managed to already bluff his way past two NCOs and their lackeys, but the locked door in his face proved to be just enough to halt progress. There wasn’t a keypad to examine or even a pressure-sensitive cloud anywhere—this was a simple lock, which needed a simple key to get past. Ironically enough, the only reason he needed to get into this room was because he needed yet another key open yet another door.

As not to look too suspicious to the scattering of ponies still doing their work, Turbulence placed the coffee holder on the floor and pretended to pat himself down for keys whilst he thought of another option. Lockpick? Didn’t bring anything besides the PDA. Break down the door? Definitely a no. Steal the keys? It was harder to tell who would have the keys to General Silverbolt’s office.

“You there! ‘Scuse me!” somepony called out, obviously pointed in Turbulence’s direction, but he chose to ignore it in favor of digging through the pockets of the mail bag for anything he could use to knock out a fully-grown stallion.

A hoof landed on Turbulence’s shoulder and he spun around, hoof still resting on the box cutter he’d just found buried in all the mail. “Yo. How can I help you, sir?” Just in case he hadn’t been blown, a nonchalant greeting would do for the time being.

The pudgy old stallion expectantly held out his hoof. “I’d like my mail, please.”

Turbulence didn’t miss a beat. “I’ll see if I’ve got it on me right now, but don’t count on it. Some joker in Sorting thought it would be funny if they dumped all the morning mail into one box to save time. I’ve been goin’ up and down floors all day trying to deliver packages.” He took out a random parcel and waved it. “This guy is third floor, but these ones”—a few letters joined into the waving—“go to different floors as well. All my mail’s messed up.” With that, Turbulence dumped all the mail back into the bag before the officer could read any of the names.

“That’s too bad. I’m expecting a very important parcel.” The—Turbulence glanced at the rank patches on the pony’s lapels and gulped—Major sighed. “Darn.”

Since appearances needed to be kept, Turbulence pretended to carefully look through his stolen mail. “Yeah, I’m not seeing anything. How ‘bout this—tell me what it looks like and once I deliver the General’s mail I’ll personally go find your package and deliver it to your desk, asap. Sir.”

“The mail waits for nopony, I suppose.”

Turbulence allowed himself a grin as he thought to himself, Neither do spies.

The Major tilted his head. “Say, I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

“Stormy Storm, fourth floor runner. I’m usually not up here most of the time,” Turbulence bluffed, shaking the stolen mail bag again. “You know, mail things today.” He made a show of patting himself down again. “You wouldn’t happen to have a key to the General’s office, would you? M’boss explicitly told me to leave this dossier on his desk.”

“That’s not standard operating procedure, is it?” the Major asked.

Of course it wasn’t, which was why asking was a huge risk for Turbulence. “Hey, not my problem. The boss tells me what to do and I do it. Don’t shoot the messenger, sir.” He shrugged anyway, as if it was actually true. As an afterthought, he gestured at the coffee on the floor. “Coffee, sir?

“I’ll pass, thanks.” The Major examined Turbulence, searching for any signs of deceit. Unable to find any, the Major shrugged and produced a key from one of the pockets on his fatigues. “Don’t all you mail runners have keys to everything?”

“Fourth floor uses those new card lock things. Haven’t had a physical key key since I got here.” Turbulence chuckled, one wing behind his head and a hoof firmly on top of the box cutter—just in case. “Like I said, today’s been a weird day.”

The door unlocked and the Major nudged it open. “There you go, airpony. I expect my mail on my desk by the end of the day.” With that, the old officer ambled off to do other things.

Turbulence trotted in, making sure to call out, “Will do, sir!” over his shoulder. He shut the door and, as a precaution, locked it as well. Ha. Chump.

Down to business. General Silverbolt always kept a backup keycard hidden inside the framed picture of his family, according to the information that Turbulence had purchased. Just in case, a search through the rest of the desk wouldn’t hurt either.

Let’s see if you’ve got anything interesting in here, General. Unfortunately, there was only so much paperwork that could be considered remotely engaging before even Turbulence lost interest in it as well. Without anything to copy physical files with, all the documents would have to go back exactly where he’d found them.

Taking apart the photo frame wasn’t even a challenge. The ID card slipped out from between the backing and the picture, right into Turbulence’s waiting hooves. “Huh. Cute foals,” he muttered, examining the photo a bit more closely. Sans freakishly large wings on the red one, it seemed like the General had a happy little normal family at home. Picture frame replaced, it was time to continue the job.

Turbulence mentally ticked off acquiring the General’s ID card and proceeded to the next step: accessing the data center on the sixth floor using the newly-acquired card. Even at minimum staffing, there were still enough ponies around that might take notice of a mailpony trying to get into the backup data storage room.

To avoid any chances of being seen by anypony, especially that Major, Turbulence decided to jump out of the window and leisurely glide down to the sixth floor, where he gained a few more property damage points and hopped into somepony’s office.

Unfortunately, the office was still occupied.

“Ma’am.” Turbulence fished a random envelope from his stolen mail bag and offered it to the surprised mare with a dramatic flourish. “Mail.”

The small reddish-brown pegasus, seemingly some sort of office lackey as well, hesitantly took the envelope without giving it a look. “Uh… thanks?” She wouldn’t stop staring at Turbulence like he’d just broken a window lock and swooped right on in, which really bothered him greatly.

Turbulence bowed and doffed an invisible cap at the mare. “Efficiency is our priority. Have a nice day.” Before she could get another word in edgewise, he was out the door and quickly trotting down the hall. Every interaction increased the chances of detection, so grabbing the data and bugging out needed to happen in the next ten minutes.

“Six twenty three. Where the buck is six twenty three?” Turbulence muttered to himself as he trotted past doors. “Six fifteen, fourteen, nineteen, twelve, who the buck labeled these doors? They’re not even in order.”

It took a lot longer than necessary to find the right door, especially since six twenty three was right between six fifty nine and a janitor’s closet for absolutely no reason. If somepony even asks me to go kill the bucking architect of this building, I’ll bucking do it for free. Who even puts fifty nine and twenty three next to each other?

At least the General’s keycard worked. The door beeped once and unlocked, allowing Turbulence inside.

The data room was dominated by a single massive supercomputer—not a cloud computer, but an old pre-war supercomputer kept in tip-top shape. Another security gate locked with a keypad stood between it and Turbulence, but that wasn’t a problem. The seven-digit codes were on a predictable rotation—not really high security, but it was a backup database after all.

“Seven… three… five… five… six… zero… eight.” Turbulence took a step back after stabbing the last button, just in case an alarm triggered, the door electrified, or if the room would simply explode. This better damn work.

Once again, his informant had come through. Nothing stood between him and the server now.

A horrible, unthinkable thought crossed his mind. Unless the reports aren’t even here, which would make me angry enough to strangle a small animal. It was the one thing he hadn’t been able to verify before starting the job. Still, bits were bits and the hookers wouldn’t pay themselves.

Thankfully, there wasn’t any security on the server itself. Turbulence plugged his PDA into the terminal built into the side of the server’s humongous case and let the programming do the work. In a matter of minutes, his PDA had copied fifteen complete files.

“That’s funny… there should only be four of you.” Turbulence sat down and opened the first and newest report. Most of it was still classified and the other reports didn’t appear to be in any numerical sequence, but the simple existence of the files on this server was all that mattered.

Sample ID: 209-79
Duration: 3 Days.
Test Status: Stopped after Stage I tests.
Notes: Mutation of strain 205-4B. Weak protein shell creates structural instability. Consider harvesting genetic viable material for further study. See detailed research notes that follow. Refer to “Nexus” specimen files for annotations.
Status: New sample created (SID209-80F), SID209-79 destroyed.
Additional note: New sample redundant. Report removed.

Once again, Turbulence began to wonder what he had gotten himself into. Contents still not verified, he moved onto the next one.

Sample ID: 209-42
Duration: 7.3 Days.
Test Status: Stage II testing complete, tests terminated during Stage III testing.
Notes: This new strain seems promising, although it is unstable and volatile when dispersed aerobically. Researcher contracted SID209-42 during testing, pending observation. Consider returning to SID208-11 for a more stable version of the virus. See detailed research notes that follow. Refer to “Nexus” specimen files for annotations.
Status: Contained. 7 units preserved in storage, blueprint and notes logged.

Next. None of these were the right ones.

Sample ID: 206-98 “The Bees”
Duration: 18 Days.
Test Status: Completed, pending approval.
Notes: Although this version of the virus has been heavily modified for more subtle effects, there is still a high probability of transmitting the disease to other unintended hosts through bodily fluids and liquids. Unintended side effects include lethargy and vivid hallucinations. Under-performs to requirements. See detailed research notes that follow. Refer to “Nexus” specimen files for annotations.
Status: Strain viable. 25 units preserved in storage, all relevant research catalogued. New samples created for further study. (See annotations)

Turbulence began to wonder whether breaking into their cold storage could be worth a bonus. Crates of beer didn’t pay for themselves, either.

Sample ID: 205-01
Duration: 0.4 Hours
Test Status: Failed Stage I testing.
Notes: Specimen expired in the incubator. No research notes follow.
Status: SID205-01 destroyed.
Personal note from the Head Scientist: What idiot put this one together? HOW DID THIS HAPPEN WHY DID I HIRE THEM WHO EVEN SIGNED OFF ON THIS ONE?

“Heh. There’s always an idiot somewhere.”

Sample ID: 203-33B
Duration: 2 Days.
Test Status: Stage I testing completed.
Notes: This strain of the virus functions no differently to SID203-30. Testing discontinued to save resources. See detailed research notes that follow. Refer to “Nexus” specimen files for annotations.
Status: Strain viable. 1 unit preserved for records.

This “Nexus” specimen seemed like the file Turbulence was looking for, judging by the many references to it. All the files were dated from newest to oldest, so he scrolled to the bottom of the list. Sure enough, the last file in the list appeared to be exactly what he was looking for.

Sample ID: 198-23 “Nexus”
Duration: N/A
Test Status: Complete.
Notes: This is the recovered specimen being modified. The virus appears to have a very low reproductive yield with a very high efficiency rate. However, due to what appear to be manufacturing fallacies by the previous creator(s), pegasi appear to be immune due to the unique nature of their semi-avian blood cells; the virus simply remains dormant within the body. Testing on non-pegasus test subjects reveals the following: Irrational thought, hallucination, increased hyperactivity and outbursts of unprovoked violence. As the virus progressed, test subjects repeatedly voiced that they were hungry but refused to eat food offered to them, instead attempting to bite the researchers themselves. By the end of Stage V testing, eight of the ten test subjects had resorted to devouring their own flesh to sate their hunger. The other two displayed potential of free thought through the medium of very colorful death threats once restrained. All subjects were terminated or perished by the end of testing. The corpses have been preserved for future study and reference. See detailed research notes that follow.
Addendum: Pegasi with any of several specific genetic defects (all ranging from uncommon to rare; see attached list) have been proven to be susceptible to the virus to varying levels of severity. SID201-88U created to study.
Addendum: The virus appears to respond positively to certain combat drugs. Subjects that had experimented with drugs (tests revealed recreational or otherwise) appeared to have a weaker immune response to the virus, regardless of drug. Additional study on multiple subjects have revealed that the presence of certain drugs can negate a pegasus’s natural resistance to the virus. SID203-81B, SID203-84, and SID 203-87 should be divided for modification and testing.
Status: Multiple units stored for further manipulation and research. (See annotations)
Personal note from the Head Scientist: When the recon jocks said they hit a fruit cart for this stuff, they really weren’t kidding. Guy brings me an apple in a hazmat box and says “Science this, bitch.” Unbelievable. Anyway, whoever made this shit went through a lot of trouble trying to secretly test this stuff using the “care packages” that’ve been going down to the dirt-munchers. After initial analysis, I’ve noticed that this stuff is heavily modified—and we’re the only ones with the resources and time to do so. Stiffy thinks it’s the Thunderhead nerds, but there’s no way to confirm without running into all the red tape in the galaxy. There are markers in the genetic material that confirm my suspicions, but that’s really not my job to worry about it. Somepony’s going to get fired for losing their deadly pathogen, that’s for sure.

Turbulence smirked and tucked his PDA away. Thanks to that scientist, he had definitive proof that somepony had indeed stolen the shipment, knowing full well what its actual payload was. The research notes attached to it would probably confirm that this was the same stuff that his employer was looking for.

Suddenly, a foreleg appeared around Turbulence’s neck, seized him in a chokehold, and tried to push him to the ground. Being larger than his assailant, he didn’t budge and instead tried to find the box cutter in the mail bag before he blacked out. Elbowing the pony behind him didn’t even cause a grunt of pain.

“Woah there! Stand down, stand down!”

His assailant immediately allowed him to fall forward and gasp for breath. “As you wish, commander,” she droned. This wasn’t part of the plan. A double cross, then?

“Huh. Didn’t plan on seeing you here, Turbs,” the voice remarked. “This just got awkward.”

Turbulence knew that voice. He’d been hired by that same pony in the past several times. “Eight Gauge, is that you? You sound different without my dick in your mouth.”

“It’s Twelve Gauge, you asswipe.”

“Whatever.” Turbulence pulled himself back up into an upright position to confront the two ponies in the room with him. Twelve was definitely the bluish stallion in the back, still sporting his really stupid bronze-colored crewcut with an annoyed scowl on his face. Turbulence didn’t recognize the little teal mare standing slightly in front of him, but the vacant stare she was giving him was curiously perturbing.

Being the charmer he was, Turbulence decided that he needed to introduce himself. “Name’s Turbulence. Severe Turbulence.” He held out his hoof to the mare and tried not to stare at the gaudy blue stripe running through her white mane. “And yours, madam?”

The mare didn’t respond. In fact, she seemed to not even notice that she was being spoken to.

Twelve took a step forward and shoved the mare out of the way, who simply tottered to the side and took much longer than expected to recover her footing. “Enough with the small talk. What’re you doing here?”

“This place is haunted. Would you believe I’m an exorcist?”


The box cutter seemed like a very good idea to Turbulence at the moment, but it was possible that he could still talk his way out of the situation he’d found himself in. “So… commander, huh? When’d that happen?”

“It hasn’t happened yet, but I still outrank you.”

Confusion set in. “But she just called you—”

“Oh, she’s just sort of stuck like that for the moment.” Twelve gestured at the mare who was pointlessly—and still just as vacantly—staring at the wall. “It’s her go-to response.”

There were many words to describe a pony, but “stuck” usually wasn’t one of them. Peculiar wording aside, Turbulence still needed a way out with the data he’d just stolen. Twelve and the mare probably didn’t know just yet, since he’d managed to tuck away his PDA just in time.

“Hold on, don’t you dare change the topic. I’m going to ask you one more time: what are you doing here?” Twelve snapped.

Turbulence smirked. “I’m just trying to download the latest episode of ‘Honey, Where Are My Horseshoes?’. I can’t stop watching that show.” He needed to buy time until a plan could come together.

“How do you even manage to watch that show? It’s just half an hour of some retard walking around a house yelling about his lack of hoofwear.”

“But that character development!” Turbulence briefly considered the air vents. No, that leads right into the air conditioner. That, and this mare’s smaller than I am so she’ll have the upper hoof.

“What character development? He literally does nothing but ask where his horseshoes are for the entire episode!” It was a mind-numbing show and a terrible excuse, but Twelve still hadn’t caught on. “Hey, stop changing the subject!”

Or maybe he did. Curses.

There wasn’t anything in the room that would function as a weapon to incapacitate a stallion, let alone two battle-ready pegasi. “Look, I’ve got places to go and ponies to k–meet. We done here?” It was only after Turbulence had said that when he realized that wasn’t his best attempt at ending a conversation.

“I’m going to ask you one more time. What the buck are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” An idea came to Turbulence’s mind which could potentially buy him some time. Maybe if I can trap them behind the security gate, I can get out of here scot-free. “I’m doing maintenance on the server, buddy. What’re you two doing in here?”

Twelve snorted impatiently. “That’s it. Airpony, apprehend.”

The mare suddenly snapped to attention. “As you wish, commander.” She turned and pounced impossibly fast, showing no sign of the clumsiness that Turbulence had noticed earlier. Before he knew it, he found himself face-first against the tile with his wings and forelegs pinned behind his back.

“Let’s face it, Turbs. I know how you work, and meeting you here isn’t a coincidence. You’re after our research notes, aren’t you? Because, coincidentally enough, so are we.”

Turbulence didn’t answer, on account of the increasing amount of pressure being put toward bending his wings the wrong way. With no way out, he hoped that Twelve would monologue long enough for an opportunity to reveal itself.

“Who’s paying? It’s somepony from Thunderhead, isn’t it?”

“C’mon. You know how this’ll work. I’ll say no, you’ll guess again, I’ll mislead you, you’ll believe it, then you’ll get into trouble and none of us are any better off. I have never failed on a mission, Commander. Any mission.”

Twelve tapped his chin in thought. “In that case, one of use is bound to end up gravely disappointed, because neither have I. Airpony, break his wing.”

“Your wish is my command.” The mare on Turbulence’s back twisted her body for better leverage. She gripped the base of his right wing in her teeth and pulled backward until it made a cringe-inducing cracking noise.

“Aaaugh!” Turbulence screamed. “My wing!”

Disregarding the other pony’s discomfort, Twelve groaned and facehoofed. “I meant the other wing. The one that you were already holding onto.”

What could almost count as disappointment surfaced in the mare’s eyes for a brief, fleeting, moment. “Right away, sir.” Obediently, she carried out the mirrored action for Turbulence’s other wing and forcibly dislocated it with a hideous pop.

The sounds of Turbulence screaming were drowned out by Twelve shouting, “No, no—that’s not what—ugh, never mind.”

Turbulence was starting to feel that he wasn’t being paid enough to die for somepony else’s cause. Well, it was that and his tortured wings sending waves of pain that kept him from coming up with any other methods of escape. It was time to spill the beans, in the name of being able to fly again.

“Buck! I don’t know, okay? You know how I work—no names, no faces. It’s somepony from Thunderhead and that’s all I know!”

Somepony at Thunderhead must have noticed something was wrong and was trying to find out exactly who was responsible for the string of “unfortunate accidents” happening to their research. Pieces of the puzzle were suddenly coming together in Turbulence’s mind with the reports he’d just read. Neighvarro operatives must have hit the Volunteer Corps’s caravan in transit, knowing full well what its true purpose was. They’d then gone and had their science ponies repurpose the virus for their own means.

“Anything else you’d like to share?”

This much pain wasn’t worth the money he’d been paid, that was for sure. “They knew how this tricky shit went. They set a drop point, backup drop, surveillance, everything. Big league stuff,” Turbulence cried. “Just heal me up and let me go on my way already!”

Twelve thought about it for a moment. “Alright. Turn over the uniform, the bag, and whatever’s up your butt.”

“There’s nothing in my butt!” Turbulence lied, trying not to bring attention to his hindquarters. “That was one time, and you know it.”

Of course, the last time the two of them were on the same “team”, and Twelve’s other operative that had tagged along didn’t really want to touch the handle of the flip-knife that Turbulence had produced. As uncomfortable as it was, a safety knife up the butt had actually saved his hide exactly twice.

“Airpony, keep him restrained. If he struggles while I confiscate his tools, we’re going to have problems.” Thankfully, Twelve hadn’t decided to have his lackey shove her hoof up his bum to verify.

“Yes, commander.” The mare on Turbulence’s back tightened her hold on his forelegs. Not that he was even struggling to begin with, since his wings were still killing him.

With nowhere to go, Turbulence was forced to painfully lie on the ground as Twelve finally found the PDA with the reports on it. “What’s this then? Looks like you’ve been busy.”

“That’s all I found, okay?”

“And I believe you. Airpony, tie him up and treat him. We’re bringing him with us once I get the data transfer done.” Twelve turned away and began to do things with the terminal.

“As you wish, commander.” The mare abruptly snapped Turbulence’s left wing back into place, making him cry out in pain.

Twelve chuckled. “It’s a good thing this room is soundproofed. Otherwise it might sound like somepony’s getting raped in here.”

“That’s not—ow, shit—funny!” Turbulence growled as the mare roughly pulled his right wing back into alignment. “Only assholes make ra—”

He was interrupted by the mare cramming a potion vial into his mouth. “Drink.”

As he drank, his wing mended itself thanks to the power of magic. The mare quickly produced a pair of cable ties and tied his legs together in the meantime.

“The reports have been moved and the existence of the project no longer exists.” Twelve returned to observe the mare’s handiwork, apparently finished with whatever he needed to do. “Good job, airpony.”

“Thank you, sir,” she emotionlessly droned.

“You know what? Have a treat.” Twelve tapped the mare’s jaw and pulled out a small pouch from the pocket of his fatigues, carefully shaking out a small red candy. “Open.”

Obediently, she opened her mouth and waited.

He tossed it into her mouth and pocketed the pouch while the mare contentedly sucked on the candy, finally showing another expression other than “neutral”.

Satisfied, Twelve headed toward the door. “Come along now, Frosty. Don’t forget the spy.”

The mare nodded and effortlessly threw Turbulence onto her back. “I understand, and will obey.”

Footnote: Memory unlocked.

Author's Note:

Yes, this is canon.

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