Harmony's Warriors: Iron Mare (Revised Version)

Based off the 2008 film Iron Man

Directed by Jon Favreau

Screenplay by Mark Fergus, Hawk Ostby, Art Marcum and Matt Holloway

And the 2010 film Iron Man 2

Directed by Jon Favreau

Screenplay by Justin Theroux

Act One:

"Charade You Are"

Chapter One:

“The Way of the Fool”:

Braeburn stood quietly in front of the almost-completely closed bedroom door. He didn’t understand why she had to be like this. She was obviously better than this, what with her beauty and sharp-wit. He had known that since he first saw her as a young stubborn mare at the Canterlot University, this is why he had personally asked to be her secretary even though he was just a farmpony, he wanted desperately for her to better herself. He sighed as he opened the door, the light creeping through the room.

He looked at the bed. Lying there, completely asleep was Walter Clopwrite, some tabloid reporter from the night before. He walked over to the curtains and unceremoniously opened them. The beautiful warm sunlight poured in. The sleeping unicorn suddenly awoke, babbling incoherently. “Morin’” Braeburn said, the unicorn turned to him, holding a hoof in front of his still sleepy eyes.

“Damn it! What time is it?”

“Oh, ‘bout 11.” Braeburn said flatly. “Time for you to leave.”

The unicorn rubbed his eyes and then looked back at Braeburn. “Look dude.” The unicorn sat up. “Just cause I got lucky with her doesn’t mean-”

Braeburn cut him off “If you think that’s the reason I work fer Miss Belle, you’ve got an’ ‘nother thing comin’” Braeburn then pulled the cover off the bed. The unicorn, getting the hint, got up and walked out.

////////////////////////////////////

Meanwhile, in a room across the mansion, Rarity Belle, cigarette in her mouth and glasses perched on her nose, busied herself with her newest fashion masterpiece. Last night’s bout of passion had led to inspiration as it always had. This would shock all of Equestria, this design would. She levitated some cloth over the table where she was working.

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.

Rarity couldn’t hear it at first due the snarling guitar of song on the radio. She always heard music while she worked. It helped the muses flow. Suddenly the music ground to a halt.

“HEY! What have I said about my music!” Rarity said angrily, spinning around her chair to see Braeburn standing at the door. “Oh. It’s just you. Thought you were the maid or something.”

Braeburn simply looked at her over his reading glasses, ePad ready for use.

“What?” Rarity asked “If it’s about that Clopwrite colt, he asked.”

Braeburn said nothing.

Rarity took her glasses off and walked over. “Look dear, I know that were you come from ponies might not be so…” she searched for the right word. “…liberated…but here in Canterlot it’s perfectly normal.”

“Miss Belle.” Braeburn said in his thick Appleloosian accent. “Mah mama always used to tell me, ‘iffin’ everypony be jumping off a cliff, that be no reason to go trowin’ yerself off.’” with these words he took the lit cigarette out of her mouth and put it out.

Rarity rolled her eyes. Sometimes that old-timey morality of his got on her nerves.

“Well, your mother sounds quite lovely I’m sure, but she’s not MY mom.” At this Rarity flicked her tail at Braeburn and walked out, head held high. Braeburn simply turned and followed her. “Well, I have a feeling you’ve come to talk about something other than my sex life.” Rarity said over her shoulder.

“Yup. Today yer expected at that there fancy charity Gala.”

Rarity huffed. “That old thing? Is that tonight?” She made her way into the living room and threw herself on the massive couch.

She then levitated the remote over and turned on her HD TV. She began idly clicking through the channels, ignoring Braeburn as he continued to go through the days scheduled activates.

“...and yer sister’s comin’ over.”

At these words Rarity suddenly bolted around. “What? When? Why are they sending that little imp over?”

“Well, the note seems to say that she wanted to visit ya.” Braeburn said.

“Ugh!” Rarity went back to channel surfing. “Why does Mom do this to me!” She said as the channels blazed past. “She KNOWS I’m an independent adult and she continues to try and control me!”

Braeburn looked puzzled. “How is sendin’ yer sister over tryin’ to control ya?” he asked.

“She’s trying to show me how I SHOULD BE instead of how I AM! That little brat is going to come and say ‘Mom doesn’t like to see you doing this!’ and ‘Mom wouldn’t like to see you doing that!’”

“Maybe yer Mom is just trying to reach out.”

“What?”

“Well, ya never return her calls or visit. Maybe this is her way of getting’ a message through to you.”

“The only message my mom ever gave me was you’re not good enough. Did I ever tell you what she told me when I got a C on a math test?”

“A thousand times.”

“‘I expected as much’.”

“I remember.”

The channels continued to flash by faster than the eye could track. “Dear Celestia, is there NOTHING ON?” Rarity said, frustrated.

“Maybe iffin ya slowed down, ya might be able to make out what’s on.” Braeburn said, sounding ever so sarcastic.

Rarity stopped and without turning, said, “Don’t you have some secretary stuff to do?”

Taking the hint, Braeburn turned and walked out of the living room, leaving Rarity alone with the television.

As the door closed behind the leaving earth pony, Rarity stared at the massive screen in front of her. She had happened to land on the predominate news channel of Equestria, where the anchor pony rambled on and on about some poor third-world country outside of Equestria and how much the ponies seemed to be suffering over there.

Rarity stared bored at the screen. Who cares what happens over there? She thought. Aren’t even any ponies living there. Just a bunch of creatures who all wish they could be ponies.

Bored with the news, she changed the channel to fall on the local soap opera network, which airing another episode of The Passions of All the Fillies of Manehattan Hospital’s Days of Life. Apparently, in this episode Standing Stone’s true father will be reveled. Rarity already knew who it was, taking into account she had already had an intimate evening with the shows head writer, Ernst Scribbler, Standing Stone’s father was Noble March, chief of security of Manehattan. Which was painfully obvious to anypony with a brain, taking in account that they had the same coat, mane and eye color. The only difference being that Noble March was a Unicorn and Standing Stone was an Earth Pony. The hack writer thought he was some sort of genius for writing in the “greatest twist in television history” as he had called it.

Rarity continued channel surfing and pulled out another pack of cigarettes from the small end table next to her, and proceeded to light one and smoke it. Bad habit. She was constantly being told. That’s going to kill you someday. They said.

None of their business. She thought. I'm Rarity, billionaire, genius, and Equestria’s most eligible bachelorette. She could do whatever the hay she wanted to. So there. With the satisfaction of a child blatantly disobeying their parents, she took a deep puff of her cigarette.

As she sat there puffing on her cigarettes, her cat, Opalescence, jumped up out of wherever she was hiding and made her way onto Rarity’s lap. The cat rubbed against her, seeking the obligatory petting it usually received. Rarity looked at Opalescence, and petted the cat. The cat, content with it’s master’s brief petting, then got up and walked off the couch and made it’s way to it’s litter box.

The doorbell rang. Rarity ignored it. Probably some news pony wanting an interview. It rang again. Rarity tried to ignore it. It rang again. And again. Now it was ringing in long stream of dings.

“Ugh! Coming!” Rarity begrudgingly got up from the couch. “Who the hey is ringing my damn doorbell!” with this she swung the door open violently, ready to bring a mighty brow-beating to anypony bold enough to disturb her during her “Me Time”.

Instead of some nerdy news pony or slobbering fan, there was a small white unicorn filly with a light purple mane with pink highlights and no cutie mark and a small backpack.

Sweetie Belle.

Behind those innocent green eyes Rarity knew lurked a little demon. One that was constantly asking her for a drink when it obviously didn't need it. One that was always sticking her head into the bedroom at the most inopportune times. One that was endlessly miss-shelving her DVDs. One that would always be pointing out what Rarity was doing and supposedly wrong with it.

Sweetie Belle.

“Hi sis!” the little filly chirped, seemingly oblivious to her sister’s animosity.

“Morning.” Rarity said through clenched teeth. “So, what brings you to my door…” Rarity said, making no attempt to hide her annoyance.

“Mom sent me. She says you’re alone too much.”

“I go to parties every day and I’m alone?”

"She also said you shouldn't smoke." Rarity shot her a dirty look.

Sweetie Belle shrugged. “She said it, not me.”

“Hmm. I guess I have to let you in.” Rarity stepped aside to allow her sister to enter. No use in being in a blind rage the whole time. Might as well bring it down to a low simmer.

They made their way down the giant hallway, neither of speaking until they got to the massive living room. Rarity put out the cigarette, no use having this around her while the imp was here.

Sweetie Belle’s eyes widened at the sight of the huge television on the wall. “Oh my god! This is awesome!” she said running into the room and throwing herself on the couch. “WOW! I’ve never seen a TV so big in my life!” she said, grabbing the remote and proceeding to flip through the channels at light speed.

“Careful!” Rarity said, trying not to tear the remote from Sweetie’s hooves. Rarity turned away. Got to get back to work. She thought. Maybe if I just leave her she’ll leave me alone.

“Hey sis?” Sweetie’s voice derailed Rarity’s thought processes. “I’m kinda hungry.”

Rarity held back a scream. “Really?” she said, trying her best to not explode in a rage “Didn't Mommy feed you before you left.”

“No. Didn’t have a chance, it was like 6:30 AM when I left.” Sweetie Belle said, containing to flip through the channels.

“Well.” Rarity said “What do you want to eat?”

////////////////////////////////////

After a particular awkward lunch, Rarity left Sweetie Belle asleep in front of the television where “Cutie Pie Cutsty Time” was on. Making her way to her room, she shut the door and started sifting through her clothing, looking for the best dress to wear for the fashion show. After about an hour-and-a-half of looking, she finally settled on an elegant business suit. A knock came at her bedroom door. “Ugh.” She said. “Who is it?"

“Braeburn. Y’all decent?”

Rarity rolled her eyes. “Yes. And you know we don’t normally wear clothes.”

“Maybe I come on in?” Braeburn asked.

“Of course.” Rarity said. Braeburn opening the door, carrying what looked like a big black square with straps. Rarity simply stared at him. “What in Celestia’s name is THAT horrible thing?”

“A bullet proof vest, ma’am.” Braeburn said, laying the vest on the bed.

“Don’t call me ‘ma’am’. I’ve told you a million times, I’m not some old lady or anything.” Rarity said, checking herself in the mirror. “Why did you bring it anyways?”

“Well, I was watchin’ the news, and n’ they said it’s gettin’ violent and all over by Appleloosa.” Braeburn said, sounding slightly worried.

“Look dear.” Rarity turned towards him. “Just because some nut jobs with big guns and funny names are running around screaming, doesn’t mean I should not go.” Rarity walked over to the bed, examining the vest. “Anyways, if I don’t go, I won’t be able to show off my glorious designs to all those uncivilized ponies. Celestia knows they need the culture.” She lit another cigarette.

“Either way.” Braeburn said, once again taking the cigarette out her mouth. “I want you to wear it under that there suit yer wearing.”

Rarity looked at Braeburn. His face was calm. His eyes however, betrayed his worried state.

Rarity rolled her eyes. “Fine, dear. I’ll wear this…thing as long as you don’t rub it in my face.”

The worried look disappeared from Braeburn’s eyes. “Good.” He said. “Well.” He said, glancing at his ever-present ePad “It’s time fer ya to get goin’”

Rarity sighed and levitated the vest and walked over to the bathroom, closed the door and put that accursed vest on. Stupid thing. She thought. All it does is add an extra 5 pounds to me.

After putting on her make-up and fixing her hair (which took about an hour) she finally made her way to the front door. She turned to Braeburn. “Remember, whatever you do, don’t let that…that…thing in my room or anywhere besides the guest room, the guest bathroom and the living room. I don’t want her meddling in my workroom. Get it?”

Braeburn nodded “Yup. Got it.”

Rarity let out a sigh of relief. “Good.” Braeburn opened the front door and lead her to the limo.

“Why are ya so mean to yer sister?” He asked as Rarity made her way to limo

“Because…” Rarity stopped and thought for a second and then shot Braeburn a dirty look. “Just remember to keep her occupied.” She said as she turned to the limo. She got in and closed the door and the limo drove off.

////////////////////////////////////

The elegant music wafted through the air, as Rarity made her way to the bar. She figured that she would get a quick drink before her presentation. At the bar sat a handsome light blue earth pony.

“Good evening Bruce. Haven’t seen you in awhile.” Rarity said, motioning to the waiter for a drink.

“Evening.” Mr. Mane took a sip of his ginger ale. Rarity thought it was odd that he never had any actual alcohol at these gala events.

“I hear things are going well in Trotham…” she said, trying to keep up conversation. Like talking to a painting. She thought. A few moments of silence passed before Fancypants came over and started talking to Mr. Mane. Something about missing Kevlar suits or something. Mr. Mane simply shrugged and made his way to the rest of the crowd, with Fancypants in tow. Rarity's phone rang, the ringtone told her it was Braeburn. She ignored it. Probably something about Sweetie Belle.

As they left, an incredibly beautiful and sexy unicorn mare came up and ordered a martini. Rarity bristled at the sight of her.

“Evening, Rarity.” Fleur de Lis said in her vague foreign accent. “Fancy seeing your delightfully old self here.”

“Evening, Fleur.” Rarity said, doing her best to not to spit the words out. “You seem to be having fun. How many stallions have you seduced tonight?”

Fleur thought for a moment, seemingly going through all the stallions in her head. “Five” she said, shooting Rarity a sly grin.

“Wonderful.” Rarity said, faking being interested. Everything about Fleur left Rarity feeling envious. Her looks, her designs, the way stallions seemed to hang on her every word, no matter how stupid the words were, everything.

“Well.” Fleur said, taking a glace at her watch. “Time for me to do my presentation.” Pride dripped from every word. Fleur flicked her hair and made her way to the stage.

Rarity turned back to the bartender. “One Nightmare Night Delight please.” She ordered. “On the rocks.”

The bartender did a double take. “You sure miss? That’s an awful strong drink.”

“I know.” Rarity said. “I’m in a mood.” She thought about Fleur coming in and stealing her spotlight and about Sweetie Belle at home. The bartender took the hint, turned, and started making the absurdly strong drink.

Three Nightmare Night Delights later, Rarity made her way to the stage, her feelings about Fleur temporarily drowned by the drinks. She sat in her chair behind the podium where Fancypants was introducing her. “and now, it is my pleasure to introduce, the beautiful, elegant, and tonight, largest donator, Rarity Belle!” with these words, he theatrically waved his hooves in the air and motioned for her to come to stage.

Rarity got up and walked to the podium. “Thank you, Fancypants. I really appreciate the marvelous introduction.”

The audience politely stomped their hooves.

“I’ve heard people say fashion is obsolete because no one outside of the highest circles can afford or would be caught dead wearing—I’m apologize for the upcoming expletive—“artistic” styles we create.  I’ve heard them say the only kind of fashion worth subscribing to is “sensible” clothing. I respectfully disagree. Every day I see regular ponies hulking down the street in their lumpy clothes that they picked at random from their closest to prove to the rest of us “elite” ponies that they are too “free” to care about their appearance.  And everyday I laugh at them because I recognize the hue of that lumpy sweater and or the design of that stained jacket from the Canterlot show rooms, the ones that every clothing store started to copy until they finally trickled their way down to some pathetic little bargain store where that unsuspecting pony picked them out on a clearance sale. So the “artistic” fashion that I prefer to subscribe to is one that is going to set the bar for every “sensible” pony out there. The kind that once they are on the market I can personally guarantee that those grungy mules won’t be able to crawl out from under their rock of passé without wearing one of my new lines. That’s how I do it, that’s how Canterlot does it, and it seems to be working well so far. Ladies and Gentleponies, for your consideration, the new Belle Artistique Line!”

With these words, the curtain behind her opened and the audience went wild with applause at the beautiful dresses.

////////////////////////////////////

It had been a rather average drive from the fashion show and back to Canterlot. Why hold it there and not in Canterlot was beyond Rarity. She was positively dying of boredom. Her clients seemed to like the new dresses, which were always good, meaning more income and all. But other than that little demonstration the day seemed rather uneventful and pointless.

On top of that all the drinks she had were giving her a headache.

All I have to look forward to. She thought to herself. Is that little brat of a sister back home. She sat the back seat of the limo, idly playing a game on her phone while music quietly made its way from the limo speakers.

Suddenly a rocket came out of nowhere, hitting the limo side on causing the vehicle to be blown onto its side. All that followed was a blur of violence and mayhem, machine guns firing wildly, random shouting and other sounds of chaos. The whole world seemed to explode in a massive shower of fire and sparks. The whole front end of the limo disappeared in a cloud of smoke, sending chucks of metal and bits of broken glass everywhere.

Rarity staggered out of the burning limo, looking for a weapon of some kind to protect herself with. She couldn’t. Lucky me. She thought as a sudden explosion and burst of machine gun fire snapped her out of her thoughts and sent her diving for the gulch near the side of the road. Damn it! She thought. I'm screwed! Another explosion rocked her world, sending her stumbling towards a large boulder. Ducking behind it, she pulled her phone and fumbled trying to call somepony to get her out of this situation.

Suddenly a small rocket landed in the ground next to her drawing her attention away from her phone. Before she had a chance to duck out of the way, the rocket exploded, throwing her at least 10 feet away, where she landed violently. She came to, only to notice an extreme cutting pain in her chest. She looked to see her business suit soaked in blood. She tore away her suit to see that her supposedly shrapnel proof vest Braeburn had told her to wear was punctured in at least 10 places, blood dripping from the various wounds. She blacked out.

“The way of a fool is right in his own eyes, but he who heeds counsel is wise”

-Proverbs 12:15 NKJV