Chapters MLP Noire: Brushie Brushie.
It was a damp and dark night, seven minutes past twelve. A light blue mare in a dark black coat made her way down the city streets, a duffle bag slung over onto her back, and a dark black cap on her head. She let out a frustrated sigh, rounding the corner of 23'd and Hay street to a small apartment complex named 'The Staggered Stallion' she walked in to the ally beside it, making her way to the back entrance and coming inside. She looked around for the correct room, the one she had gotten from her adviser to go and clean up this evening.
"Room 47..."
She muttered to herself, walking up the stairs to the main residence. She found her way to the appointed room, opening the door to three no name ponies, all dead on the floor with chunks of brain matter and blood splattered over the walls and floor. The mare was going to have a shit tone of fun with this job. She levitated the bag over her neck and onto the floor, the zipper opening up to reveal the contents. A handgun, about five folded up duffle bags, an assortment of brushes and soaps, and some disinfecting spray. She checked one of the dead bodies, her horn glowing lightly as she concluded the rigor mortis. It was obvious both how sloppy the thugs who killed them where, and how careless.
"About three hours after death... This is why I don't take odd jobs..."
She complained a bit, hefting the dead bodies and spraying them down with disinfecting spray, lazily tossing the bodies into a respective body bag and piled them into the corner. She began to get working on her clean up. Scrubbing down every surface spattered with even the slightest bit of blood.
The young blue mare was quite the clean up, able to make a crime scene look clean from any clues before the cops ever arrived. She pulled out her cellphone about an hour later, the apartment being quite clean despite the rowdy shooting that went down here. The blue mare in the black hat flipped open her phone, dialing a number as she stuffed her dufflebag full of her supplies and levitating the bodies. She made her way out, holding the phone to her ear and walking down the empty stairs with the four bags.
"Hey, Sweetheart. I am bringing the three friends over like promised. I hope you brought the concessions... We are going to need a quick check up on some of the friends, I think they might be down with the flu or something."
"Yeah yeah, whatever Colgate. I have to set the party up before you get here. Just hurry your ass up, I don't want to be waiting all night here"
The mare on the receiving end hung up.
"What a stuck up bitch..."
Colgate complained a bit, stepping back out into the cold and moist air. She lit another cigarette and trotted down the street, doing her best to make sure she took the best path with no onlookers. She made her way left from 23'd and Hay, onto a new road. Colgate found her way into another ally. The epiphany of her life being in alleyways were all to often. This time, they came into the back of an unmarked building and upon opening the double doors, the gruesome sight of an operating table, a slew of tools, and a blood covered mare.
"You are late babe."
The doctor pony said quite impatiently, stamping a hoof in frustration and just ready to get the night over.
"Look, I brought the bodies, Redheart, just cut these asshats open and see if they have been peddling any of the boss' coke."
Redheart mocked Colgate, taking one of the bags and opening it on the table. She took out her scalpel, poking at the holes. She snickered, loving it whenever Colgate brought in a nice swiss body. The blood splattered Redheart took the clothes off of the first stallion, cutting down his chest and tummy.
"I hear the boss man is pretty pissed abou-"
Redheart was cut off by the ringing of a phone, Colgate checking her pocket. It was a text.
"No pony crosses a Pinkie Pie Swear."
At that moment, Redheart's head was gored open in an array of splattered pink and crimson gore, a bullet placed into the back of her head and out between her eyes. Her now lifeless body collapsing on top of the cut open stallion on the operating table. Two bullets grazing Colgate and another hitting her square in the chest... and she hit the deck.
...
MLP Noire: Brushie Brushie.
South side Bronx, about two hours after midnight. Two young colts were wide awake in their bedroom. Age 15 and age 16. They shared a room with two small beds. The tall lanky foal spoke up, sitting on the edge of his bed while she short and chubby one laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling.
"Hey Snips, what time do you think aunt Colgate will come home?"
The skinny colt asked, a small bit of worry on his expression. It usually doesn't take Colgate this long to return home to her nephews.
"Don't worry Snails, she probably has more then one job tonight. That, or maybe it's just a long one."
Snails receded a bit, hushing up.
The house wasn't the best in all of Ponycity. It was a slim, two story, two room home wedged in between two other residences. The place looked to be falling at the seams, the income wasn't nearly enough to get the boys anything near luxury and could only afford the rent of a vacant squatter hide out. Snails returned to laying in his bed. They were on the top floor of the building, dust particles floating around the room. Snips could be heard snoring from over his side of the room. Snails sighed, something about this night felt different. He looked about the dim lit room, then out the window at the poverty stricken streets below. Something wasn't right at all.
After around twenty minutes, the two boys were both asleep. Something else slowly poured into their room though, the smell of smoke. As Snails jumped up from his bed at the smell of smoke, blazing fire engulfed the doorway.
"SNIPS!"
The lanky pony cried out, but only to be silenced by an engulf of flames.
=========================
"Oi! Doug! I think the bitch is still alive!"
The earth pony thug chuckled, lifting up Colgate's head by her mane and looking deep into her eyes. The thug was wearing a mask, Colgate didn't recognize these freaks but she knows that they are with the mafia. Colgate kept her stern expression, staring back with a deep burning anger. The other thug was busy taking care of RedHeart and her open head.
"You are quite the looker, a bit feisty though. If I wasn't here to blow your fuckin' brains out with a lead bullet, I would blow your brains out by other means."
He chuckled, his masked face moving closer to Colgate's. She was in no defense, the bullets ripping pretty good and keeping her immobilized.
"Hey, buddy. Go fuck yourself..."
She managed to sputter out, the thug only giving a hearty laugh as he slammed her face on the bloody floor. The thug returning to his buddy to chit chat what to do with the dead mare. Colgate slowly floats her gun out of her bag, the shaking 9mm floating up and taking unsteady aim at the two. Seven bullets flew from the gun and killed the thug taking care of RedHeart, the other thug hitting the deck. She gathered her strength, the gun falling to the floor.
"Gah! You stupid bitch! I'll fuckin' rip your heart out! I swear to fuckin' GOD I will kill you!"
Tears rolled out of the stallion's mask. Clearly obvious to the fact he had never been shot before. Colgate limped over, spite in her words.
"You have no god now... Except me..." She spat a bit of blood. "I judge your fate and whether you live or die."
The thug nodded, compliance being the only thing to keep him alive.
"Now. You are telling me all you know about The Don Pinkie."
MLP Noire: Brushie Brushie.
Three a.m.
It was no longer one late night, but now early in the morning, a tired pink pony sat at her desk, bags under her eyes as heavy as trucks. She was obviously not in a happy mood. The room was quite large with double doors leading into the drab black walled room. Two guards stood Idly, unicorns holding an MP7 and a UMP45 in their magic grasp. The suited pink pony leaned over her desk, pushing aside papers and looked over to the armed guards. The pink pony had gotten quite the wind of the survival of Colgate, backstabbing was not taken lightly among the mafia but the pink pony didn't have quite the force to expend for one mare.
"Tell me, boys. What the FUCK do I do about cleaning up this... This simple... Cleaner pony?"
The guards on either side of the room made eye contact, bullet proof masks covering their confused expression. Don't worry, the question to them was rhetorical.
"You'd think burning her nephews to a charred crisp, burning her house down, and sending two glock armed muscles to put her out of her misery would finish the problem..." she said, the snarl on her face not matching her squeaky tone of voice.
"M-maybe she isn't a big problem?" MP7 choked up after a few moments of silence, then UMP45 added his comment. "Well... Ted... She has a gun and nothing to live for. If I have seen my fair share of movies, that's a pretty bad combination... For the bad guys..."
"Precisely." she pointed to UMP45, giving him a coy little smile. "That's why I would like this bitch dead." she kicked back in her chair, unwrapping a sucker and popping it into her mouth. She hit the call button. "Hey babe, we are going to need a batch of cookies for the smart motherfucker up here."
==================================================
(WIP)
