The Holy Order of Harmony
"Look, lady. I do this for a living. And so do my friends" the grimy scumbag waved behind the purple haired, bespectacled woman who was surprisingly belligerent during her mugging. Behind her three more switchblade armed thugs, equally filthy, smiled at her. Eager to get their money, and if their leader willed it, their rocks off. Despite being surrounded the woman, carrying a plush pony that matched her hairstyle and by all accounts should have been sobbing and giving in easily only stood there. Looking annoyed as hell.
"I ain't in the mood for this shit. Why don't you guys just fuck off? You'll even get away with your lives."
"Big words from a skinny purple haired pony carrying bitch." Said Leader Scumbag, closing the distance between himself and Tara, the now pissed off woman in question. Smiling he pressed his knife to her throat. making a small cut. Not enough to do any real damage. Just enough to make her finally shake with fear. To his surprise, however. he saw no fear. And that would have ordinarily pissed him off into just cutting her and taking her stuff postmortem. It would seem that today was no ordinary day as a pain he hadn't felt since a a rather brutal turf war a few months back ignited in his stomach. His scowl-smile faded as he drew back the blade from the woman's throat and looked down at his own stomach. Right where the searing pain was, a rather beautiful and large blade was hilt deep in his abdomen. And the hilt was covered in a slender tan hand that belonged to a now smiling woman. He looked up from the knife into the eyes of his would-be victim. Hate, fear, and confusion evident in his eyes. He opened his mouth to scream in agony and hate. But nothing came out. The pain overriding his senses. A trickle of blood oozed out of his mouth, staining his teeth. Tara pulled out here blade. Overjoyed at seeing it once wet with the blood of an asshole.
She turned her senses behind her. fine tuned after years of street combat and hunting. And not camo in the woods hunting either. Stalking and silently assassinating political leaders and newscasters and any others she could find that aided in tyrannical United States Empire's ideals. These people were absolute filth and she lived for removing them from existence. The memories of their fear coated eyes fading along with their lives was something she actually masturbated to. Even now she was getting a little wet from battle.
The goons behind her hadn't moved in the seconds it took her to think about what she was going to have for dinner that evening and which of the library books she had borrowed she would read first. Or maybe she'd watch My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. Knowing the filth behind her was rooted to the ground in fear or shock, she quickly dropped into a crouching position and spun 180 degrees. Her lavender trench flaring out behind her. She pulled out twin M1911's. One purple, the either pink. Engraved to match the design of the pistols from one of her favorite Animes "Hellsing". Though shorter. They were accurate. And her prized possessions. The moment they were out they were pointed at the hearts of the thugs on either side of the one in the middle. And in no time at all she squeezed the triggers and fell the two morons. Making the one in the middle piss himself. Before he could run away she shot him in the leg. Bone and blood and meat splattering the sidewalk behind him. He was screaming so loud that had this been years ago she might have worried about unwanted attention. Namely witnesses and police. This day in age there were so many gunshots and screams in the inner city of Detroit, people had tuned it out. Remembering a movie she had watched the other night, she gleefully, and loudly, quoted the villain. "Hello? I just shot somebody, and I did it on purpose!" to her delight someone actually yelled out, demanding quiet. She turned to the man beneath her, and decided to oblige the the stranger, if for no other reason than his screams of horror and agony would not cease. She bent down, smiling, and cut out his throat. Carving out his voice box slowly. Reveling in the arterial spurts that showered her face.
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Phoebe was having a decent day. Instead of staying home in her shitty, dark, hard water stained apartment like she normally would have, someone had the decency to call in sick. And now she was driving around the neighborhood in her signature refrigerated truck. Moving slowly and EuroBrony's "Discord" blaring from the speaker that would normally play that annoying ass Ice Cream Truck tune. She was ecstatic when she was able to work. She had recently acquired the business and, due to legal crap, it would be another month until she got to drive like she did when she was naught but an employee. These days she barely had to do anything at all. And it annoyed her to no end. A little bit of paper work and payroll management was all that her job now entailed. She thought owning the local Ice Cream Truck chain would be far more rewarding. And financially, it was. But the smiles on the chidrens faces were hidden from view behind paper and ink.
Playing a brony song had gotten her an older set of customers as well. Some wearing white clothes with gold trim, emblazoned with the image of Celestia's sun. Others wearing midnight blue, trimmed purple, and wearing Luna's moon. Most had weapons barely concealed on their person. And she loved seeing them smile as well. Though they were usually smiling at her appearance. Constantly comparing her to Pinkie Pie, her favorite pony. Some even believing her to be in a cosplay. The only part of her that was artificial was her hair color. Pink, of course. It was her favorite color. Her wardrobe hadn't deviated from the color in her 24 years of life. And her hair had been pink since her late teens. Her overall style was ripped from the late 1980's. But somehow it worked well for her.
Her smile widened as Discord ended and Smile Smile Smile came on filling the neighborhood with sweetness her ice cream had trouble competing with. That is until her passenger window exploded inward and the seat behind her shrank while the material it was made of danced in the new breeze before settling.
"Oh goddamnit, again?" her smile fell, a tear forming beneath her left eye. She stepped on the gas, quickly turning off the music and speeding down the left of the intersection and getting as much speed as she could. Hoping to get out of range of her assailant. More than likely a Chaotic. The name the Bronies had given to the Anti-Bronies in recent years. And they had taken the name with pride. Even emulating Discord with their shitty clothing. They had drawn up a symbol and worn it on their clothes. A yellow circle with a brown outline. In the center was a red screw. A light purple spiral twisted from the screw until it fell flush with the brown outline.
She looked in the driver side mirror and saw two of the brony guard. One of the Moon and one of the Sun. Members of a religion that had spawned in July 2014. "The Holy Order of Harmony". They were subduing the moronic Chaotic that had taken a shot at her. Supposedly at the fall 2013 brony convention they hadn't died in the terrorist attack, but merely transported to Equestria. And then promptly kicked out by the others they had joined with due to their fanatical views. In the six years since their initial rise they had grown to enormous proportions. Even developing a warrior caste. She liked their style and had thought about joining, but there was no way in hell she was going to believe a story about as believable as a carpenter hippie with two dads coming back to life, or a Galactic Overlord that burned souls in the volcanoes of Hawaii. Going to Equestria? Right. And she was Pinkie Pie.
Phoebe slowed down and turned. Heading in the direction of her now deceased attacker. The two white and blue clad individuals cleansed their swords, placing them in sheaths hidden from view by their trenches. A fashion statement worn by all of the Warrior Cast of the HOH. She had to admit, it looked cool. But with so many wearing it it had grown to be a dull background feature of the war-torn landscape. It reminded her of the time she had spent a year in Florida helping here dying grandmother. At first the palm trees, which she had never seen before, filled her with glee. By the time she left she had forgotten they even existed.
Phoebe stopped her truck next to her saviors. The brakes giving a loud squeal of defiance. The two soldiers looked up as Phoebe opened the window in the back of the truck "You guys want some ice cream? It's on the house. Least I could do to thank you."
The Sun soldier looked at her and smiled so large she was worried his face might break "Pinkie!" he spread his arms as though he would embrace her, despite the current physical impossibility of that at the moment. Phoebe chortled at the name. She didn't mind being called her favorite pony unless they acted like a certain nocturnal fool. Who was now bowing to her. Which caused her to frown, which in turn caused his diurnal friend to smack him upside the head.
"You," she pointed to the Night Soldier, grimacing "don't get Ice Cream now, at least not for free. I'll give you a discount, you did save my life and all. But never bow to me again."
"Sorry, Pinkie. He's new. He thought you were the Pinkie from prophecy." Pinkie scowled at the mention of Prophecy. As far as Phoebe was concerned, religion was the cause of the country's problems right now. Starting most heavily in the September attacks nearly 20 years ago. The United States had gone into a religious war. They hid under twin blankets of "War on Terror" and "We Just want cheap oil and revenge" but Phoebe saw through the lies. The religious had used media to spread fear and took the country over. Obama had passed the NDAA when the little coward caved to opposition on New Year's eve 2011. Effectively removing Americans right to a trial and allowing military occupation of domestic land. When the Republicans took over in early 2013 ACTA swiftly passed, rendering the internet an inhospitable propaganda machine for the triplet forces of Government, Church, and Corporations. Several other new laws went through surprisingly fast. The position of President was abolished. Effectively turning America into a Dictatorship. In the new friendly environment of Christian rule, Neo-Nazi's and the KKK rose to power. If you didn't fit into the mold of goody little straight white christian, you had some hard times ahead of you. Namely prison. Thankfully resistance movements had sprung up all around the country. Even former military and CIA spies. LA and San Fransisco were almost entirely under resistance control. But you couldn't go a day in those cities with hearing the familiar pops of distant automatic gunfire.
A similar war was being fought in the background of America's current civil war, it was a dumbass fight. Bronies and anti-bronies. They had begun fighting in 2014. And it's only ever escalated since. Bronies are typically on the side of the resistance as their religion and show of interest does not sit well with the new government. And choatics tend not to side with anyone, as the government won't officially acknowledge their existence.
This was why, whenever a member of HOH bowed to her, she wanted to kick them in the face. She was surprised at how often it happened. The levels of stupidity her fellow humans had never ceased to amaze her. She. Was. Not. Fucking. Pinkie Pie. It's a cartoon, man. A good, one. Sure. But fictional none the less. To build a freaking religion out of it was Scientology level insane. And to bow to her made you straight jacket worthy. She was an ice cream vendor that wore a smile and leg warmers. Not a god. Not a pony.
"So, then. You thought it would be cool to refer to me as Pinkie in front of the new guy? You're lucky I like you or you'd be spending money on the ice cream as well." She tossed him an ice cream sandwich, the same thing he ordered everytime. Smiling he stuffed his face. In the distance gunfire was heard, and no one even flinched. Might as well have been a bird chirping. "Hello, my name is Phoebe. What's your name?"
"My name is Javier" said the Night Soldier, approaching what he secretly still insisted was the human embodiment of Laughter. He held out his hand on nearly fainted from fanboyism at her touch. He didn't hide it very well and a now angry 'Phoebe' pulled him close quickly and slammed his forehead on the shelf in front of her.
Before he fell unconscious she whispered into his ear, "I. Am. Not. Pinkie Pie. You fucking. Moron!" She let him drop, and looked at the smiling Sun Warrior. Still eating his ice cream he shrugged his shoulders, "Eh, he'll learn. Thanks for the Ice Cream Pinkie, but next time I save your life, I will not accept free Ice cream." He said this while dragging his unconscious partner back to their car.
Satisfied that her saviors were appropriately thanked she ducked back into her truck, grimacing at the destroyed driver seat that would no doubt make work somewhat uncomfortable. She decided to head home early. It had been a long day and it was only 11:00 in the morning.
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Robert was having a good day. After weeks of hard work he finally manged to do it. He dyed his shoulder length hair all seven colors of the rainbow. It was beautiful. His boyfriend didn't like it but he could care less. He silently thanked Rainbow Dash for the inspiration and donned his white trench with gold trim. Celestia's sun adorning the top half of the back of the coat and a smaller version rested above his heart. As he reached the front door he found his track shoes and placed them in his backpack. He turned and yelled into his home "Mom, I'm going to school. I've got a track meet up today so don't expect me home until six!"
"Okay, love you honey!" His mother's voice called back. Robert bit into his energy breakfast bar thingy and took off running to his school. It was two miles away and he wished it was farther. It only took him 7 minutes to get to school and he wasn't even winded. He barely broke a sweat. He would have gone earlier and run back and forth from school to home a few times but that risked catching a stray bullet. And that's something he'd rather avoid.
"Hey, faggot. Nice hair!" Figures, Brent would the first person to see his hair. To think Robert had a crush on him in middle school. Ugh. He shivered at the memory.
"Yes. Yes it is. Thanks for noticing. A lot of hard work went into it." Robert deadpanned, hoping to avoid further confrontation by walking calmly past the fat fuck. Brent was a Chaotic. And Robert had no qualms about ending his life. But he was the only hope for his schools track tournament in the fall. And he wasn't about to let them down by expelling himself from school because Brent was a hateful, beady-eyed dickhead.
"You worked hard to look like that, Hoe? Something's wrong with you." Robert sighed, annoyed. The 'Hoe' slur was just stupid. It had nothing to do with his sexuality. But rather how the Chaotics chose to word the Holy Order of Harmony's acronym. What the hell is so hard about saying Aich-Oh-Aich? Although Brent used it towards Robert more than usual because he was kind of a slut in middle school... and I think you know what happened at Brent's house that one time. Let's just say Brent became a homophobe rather quickly.
"I ain't got the time for this. If you want, you can come to my house after school," Robert waggled his eyebrows at the disgusted Brent "And I can show you a special penetration I reserved just for you" at this Robert moved his trench back to reveal his sheathed wakizashi. Brent went wide eyed before he backed off. Not wanting to piss off the armed freak any further. Walking further down the outdoor hallway his friend called out to him
"Yo, Bob-EH! Wassup, man? Did you finish that report for chemistry? Cause I totally didn't and I need someone's notes or something." Robert had indeed finished the report, but Keith wasn't known for originality. And Robert did not want to fail because Keith didn't know how to not make exact copies of other people's work. Honestly, why if he was gonna take the time out to copy every last thing, including grammatical and spelling errors. Did his notoriously lazy friend not use a copy machine?
"No man, sorry"
"Goddamnit" Keith sulked.
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Rachael was stunning as always. Her hair a beautiful black that shone almost royal purple in the right light. Curled beautifully in front of her face. Her simple all white get up clean and pressed. A short jacket on a clean white tee. A white belt with a purple belt buckle. a white skirt that ended just below the knees to show of her fabulous legs. On her left ring finger a beautiful gold ring with three pure sparkling diamonds. She wasn't married anymore, but she'd be damned if that would stop her from wearing this beautiful ring. That and she couldn't get it past the knuckle anymore. Checking her appearance once more in the mirror she went out onto her balcony to smoke. She rested her arms on the banister and stared off into the ocean. Smiling at her beloved view. If you had told her five years ago that she would have the former mansion of Charlie Sheen she'd have scoffed and told you to be on your way. And, despite being poor herself, would undoubtedly referred to you as a ruffian.
Which is why it was strange to see her working in a soup kitchen. Of her own free will. Without pay, or threat of consequence. But as strange as that was it was stranger still to see a drunken, doped up celebrity trying to get a free meal at the expense of the homeless. Knowing full well who he was and how very capable he was at providing for himself, the kitchen was refusing to serve him. But Rachael didn't agree with the kitchen staff. Obviously he was too inebriated to correctly navigate a spoon to his mouth, much less purchase a meal at McDonald's. So, Rachael excused herself and guided Mr Sheen to her little rundown apartment. Where she fed him, bathed him, (She was not happy about that, but what must be done, must be done) and provided him a moderately comfortable place to rest. Little did she know she'd later end up becoming his wife.
Charlie had cleaned himself up for her. And all was well for about four years. The happiest of her life. Even when the fighting started
[Notes for myself: Majority of chapter requires rewrite. Mane6 religions. Twilight: Atheist | Flutters: Wiccan | Applejack: Protestant | Rarity: Catholic | Rainbow: Agnostic | Pinkie: I'm still unsure.]
