It Matters
It Matters...Does it?
His voice bellowed loud onto the gathered people.
"Let us fight, for the day has come!" he rallied, earning the largest cheer yet in response. They marched across the barren land, their band's songs playing.
The people of the My Chemical Romance army were ready to invade Green Day and The Used in one shot. After all, only one band could be left standing. Or rather, one group. The members of the original bands had died long ago. People who claimed to be their reincarnations had reinstated the bands.
It had worked so well that only the priests of what was now a religion had heard the genuine music.
Slowly, ever so slowly, the fanbases had grown. It started with a weekly meeting in a child's neighborhood to talk about the music.
It was hard to believe that something so innocent could spawn this, this slaughter. For slaughter it was. Only My Chemical Romance, The Used, and Green Day still stood. Tokio Hotel and AFI had been killed off earlier that year. Fans of all ages were killed in cold blood. They and their music were inferior, the winners scoffed, they did not deserve to live.
There were many rules in the different religions of the day; Green Day, for example, had to hate America, while The Used had to do drugs, and My Chemical Romance couldn't.
But the one thing that held true for all of them, across the board, was that you had to be the same as your neighbor. You couldn't stick out.
Your hairstyle had to be pre-approved in advance to make sure it looked similar enough to everyone else's. The same went with people's makeup and clothes.
And heaven forbid you associate with a different fandom. The penalty for that was death.
In the midst of all the horror, there was a tiny, inconspicuous house in one of the select few neutral zones. There lived a lone mother and her daughter, refugees from death.
The mother, a dedicated AFI fan lined up to be killed, walked into her daughter's room. Katie was a thirteen-year-old girl without a chosen band. Her hair was illegal, being mousy brown, straight and short, and her makeup and clothes had never been seen before.
The mother sighed as she saw her daughter on her bed. Katie was crying silently to her three posters.
There was one of the original My Chemical Romance, taken during the Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge time, a The Used one, with Bert touting an album called In Love and Death, and finally a Green Day American Idiot one. Katie had chosen these in particular because the three bands had been friends at this point.
"It's time to choose, Katie," her mother murmured.
"But ma'," Katie whispered, turning to her mother with teary eyes, "What if I just like them all?"
That was when the shooting started.
"Let us fight, for the day has come!" he rallied, earning the largest cheer yet in response. They marched across the barren land, their band's songs playing.
The people of the My Chemical Romance army were ready to invade Green Day and The Used in one shot. After all, only one band could be left standing. Or rather, one group. The members of the original bands had died long ago. People who claimed to be their reincarnations had reinstated the bands.
It had worked so well that only the priests of what was now a religion had heard the genuine music.
Slowly, ever so slowly, the fanbases had grown. It started with a weekly meeting in a child's neighborhood to talk about the music.
It was hard to believe that something so innocent could spawn this, this slaughter. For slaughter it was. Only My Chemical Romance, The Used, and Green Day still stood. Tokio Hotel and AFI had been killed off earlier that year. Fans of all ages were killed in cold blood. They and their music were inferior, the winners scoffed, they did not deserve to live.
There were many rules in the different religions of the day; Green Day, for example, had to hate America, while The Used had to do drugs, and My Chemical Romance couldn't.
But the one thing that held true for all of them, across the board, was that you had to be the same as your neighbor. You couldn't stick out.
Your hairstyle had to be pre-approved in advance to make sure it looked similar enough to everyone else's. The same went with people's makeup and clothes.
And heaven forbid you associate with a different fandom. The penalty for that was death.
In the midst of all the horror, there was a tiny, inconspicuous house in one of the select few neutral zones. There lived a lone mother and her daughter, refugees from death.
The mother, a dedicated AFI fan lined up to be killed, walked into her daughter's room. Katie was a thirteen-year-old girl without a chosen band. Her hair was illegal, being mousy brown, straight and short, and her makeup and clothes had never been seen before.
The mother sighed as she saw her daughter on her bed. Katie was crying silently to her three posters.
There was one of the original My Chemical Romance, taken during the Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge time, a The Used one, with Bert touting an album called In Love and Death, and finally a Green Day American Idiot one. Katie had chosen these in particular because the three bands had been friends at this point.
"It's time to choose, Katie," her mother murmured.
"But ma'," Katie whispered, turning to her mother with teary eyes, "What if I just like them all?"
That was when the shooting started.