Dead Anon: Chapter 1 (Frostbite Prison)

>Cold sweat drips own your face as your muscles push up hefting the weight higher into the air.

>”46,” your spotter counts as you continue your set. “47.”

>Deep breathes in and out. Keep your hands apart, grip tight. You’ve done this before.

>The stale air seeps into your lungs, not like you really need it, “48.”

>His reptilian snout catches your eye as he looms above you, claws hovering just above the bar.

>You can’t remember how many times you’ve told him you don’t need him there, but he’s a stubborn fucker. “49.”

>The weight gains speed as you throw it back away from your chest, “50. Nice job.”

>The bar clangs against the rack as you sit up and rub your forearms. It’s a little light, no good.

“Add twenty-five next time. I don’t want to get scrawny.”

>”That brings it up to 300. Damn.”

“I meant on each side.”

 

>”Don’t strain yourself dude. You don’t have nothing to prove.” You grab your towel and pat your face.

“I’ll take your advice the next time I ask for your opinion.”

>”But you never-“ he catches your drift and chuckles, “Well buck you too.”

>The sage dragon follows close as you move onto the dumbbells. “Come on man, let’s at least get something to eat first.”

“I don’t know how you can stand to eat that garbage. It’s repulsive.”

>”Oh come on, it’s not like we have a choice.” The rumble of your stomach only further proves his point. Fuck.

“Fine, but I want to finish my sets before we hit the showers. I hate feeling grimy.”

>”Fag,” he pokes jokingly.

“Want me to let Howler take you for a ride?” He gulps and lays off the insults.

>”I see your point.” You’re glad he does.

>Swinging the towel over your shoulder you make your way to the guard who unlocks the cell door for you.

 

>You half expected the guards to cave your chest in when you first got here, but were pleasantly surprised when they didn’t.

>For a prison this place is pretty ‘chill’. At least that’s how Vic, your dragon buddy, called it.

>You bat the dust off your shoes and onto the cracked ceramic flooring, not caring that the janitor has to clean this up.

>He’s lucky to be here at all, god knows what would’ve come of him out in the wastes.

>The other inmates told tales about the abominations that roamed the plains of Tartarus. They’re nothing compared to the monsters in these walls.

>Vic holds the door open for you like a good little bitch, though you don’t take advantage of his kindness.

>All eyes turn on you as you walk into the cafeteria, the other mismatched inmates waiting for your move.

“The hell are you looking at?”

>They refocus on their meals to avoid further eye contact.

“That’s what I thought.”

 

>You pick up a tray by the door and head to the back of the line awaiting for your food.

>The guy in front of you stammers when he recognizes you, “O- oh, I uh- I didn’t know- please go ahead.” You smile coyly.

“No, by all means, ladies first.”

>”O-ok,” he yelps before looking back to the front with barely contained terror.

>”You know you’re an asshole right?”

“Speaking of assholes,” you point to the doors as the big bad wolf comes marching through, a diamond dog and sleek griffin at his side.

“I didn’t know Howler rose this early in the morning.”

>”He doesn’t. I wonder what’s up.”

“You think he’s still mad at me?”

>”Of course not, he’s over the whole public humiliation thing.”

“Yeah I’m sure.”

 

>You ignore the trio and move along the line, stopping at the cafeteria server.

>”Morning Anon. Don’t see you around here much anymore. The craving getting the better of you?”

“I just need something to take the edge off.”

>She nods understandably and slops a serving onto your plate, the smell making you want to hurl.

>”No greeting for me?”

>She adds a helping to his tray as well, “Shut up Vic.”

>You move down the line, adding a few carrots and mashed potatoes to your serving. It doesn’t quench the thirst, but it helps drown out the flavor.

>Vic grabs two pops for you and sits down at the chair across from you.

>You uncork the warm bottle and take a small sip, your stomach churning at the rustic taste of the liquid.

“I’ll never get used to this shit.”

>He sucks down half his drink without a hitch, “Come on, it’s good for you.”

 

>You take a swig and give the rest to Vic. “More for me,” he cheers giddily. How the hell did you end up with this guy?

>At least the potatoes are fresh. Last time they had a certain green substance that almost made you sick. Almost.

>Humans had the sheer will to overcome certain obstacles, but the runny slab of meat before you was not one of them.

“I can almost hear the screams,” you gulp before placing a bite into your mouth.

>You grind the raw hunk into mush, the taste one of rot and curdled milk.

>The putrid substance slides down your throat and into your stomach, your senses clearing, coming to terms with what you just ate.

>You finish off your potatoes and carrots, ignoring the rest.

“Take it,” you slide your food over to Vic who’s already almost done with his own plate.

>”Even more!” He tears into the flesh. “Don’t know why you hate this so much, it toughens the scales on your chest.”

>”Because he knows he’s better than that,” the alicorn replies and sits next to you.

 

>”Princess, good to see you around us the rest of us shmucks.”

>”How are you feeling Anon?” She asks you ignoring Vic.

“Been better. How are you faring Celestia?”

>”Been better,” she smiles taking a bite of a carrot.

“I trust you’re settling in well.”

>”In fact I am. No small thanks to you of course.”

“I do what I can. How’s the other guy doing?”

>She rolls her eyes when you mention him, “He’s a wild one, but has remained remarkably calm given his situation. I don’t think he’s fully accepted being dead.”

“It’s no easy task.”

>”Indeed,” she takes another bite.

>”You guys talking about Discord?” Vic asks now that he’s done stuffing his maw.

“No, we’re talking about the weather. Dumbass…”

>”Maybe I help,” a voice shoots from behind you.

 

>You duck you head as the dog takes a swing at you and misses, body flinging overtop and connecting with Vic.

“Can’t we do this later?”

>You elbow the griffon behind you in the gut. He squawks lightly and falls to the floor, the bestial chuckle giving your answer.

“Celestia, get Vic to his cell. I won’t be long.”

>She does as you ask and drags him away. “You took my spot.”

“I didn’t know we had a seating chart.”

>You stand up and look at the menacing wolf, his toothy grin doing little to intimidate you.

>”I underestimated you last time. Lightning doesn’t strike twice.” You shrug in return.

“Guess you’ll just have to find out.”

>He clenches his claws into a fist and swings at you. You move your head out the way and cross your arms.

“I don’t have all day here Howler.”

 

>He grunts and throws another series of punches, each equally as sloppy as the first.

“Seriously if you want fight at least do me the courtesy of being a challenge because-“

>You catch his next fist in your hand and begin to squeeze, Howler doing what he does best, howling.

“this is just starting to get sad.”

>The bones in his hand begin to snap as you increase the tempo, tears of anger filling his eyes.

>He swings his other hand at you, stopping mid-throw with a pulse of your hand.

>You allow the ripples to work through your hand as you control his every motion.

>You calm your mind and heighten your control, forcing his own fist against his face.

“Stop hitting yourself, stop hitting yourself.”

>The other inmates watch in silence as you crush him with one hand and make him beat himself with your other.

>”Please stop,” he spits out between blows, sacrificing ego for personal well-being.

 

“You’ve bothered me for the last time,” you say as you raise your fist.

>”Let Howler go, he is no longer a threat,” a brash voice whispers in your ear.

“Don’t interfere Warden. This time it’s personal.”

>”It was not a request.”

>Your fist stops abruptly before his face and your body begins to tremble.

“Why don’t you confront me yourself you coward?!” you challenge. “Stop hiding from sight.”

>Two minotaur guards walk in and move to either side of you.

>”Take him back to his cell so he can think about what he’s done,” the warden’s voice commands.

>The guards nod and grab onto your paralyzed shoulders. They drag you out of the room, “Please return to your business. And someone help Howler to the infirmary.”

>The doors behind you swing closed as you’re taken back to your cell.

 

>You hit the cold floor, door grinding shut behind you. You slam your fist against the enchanted door angrily.

“You can’t keep me in here forever! You hear me, I’ll find a way out of this pissbox for good!”

>”That they can’t,” someone calls from behind you.

“Show yourself,” you call out.

>From within the shadows of your cell steps out your guest, a human.

“I told the guards that I don’t accept visitors.”

>”They know not of my presence here rest assured.”

>You eye the man suspiciously. He’s not pale like the others of this realm, so that must mean he’s alive.

“Who are you?”

>“My name is Anonymous, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you Mr. Anon.” He extends his hand.

“How do you know who I am?”

       

>”Who doesn’t know of the great hero Anon? You’re story is legend after all.”

“Don’t try and flatter me. I may not look it, but I’m smart enough to see that you’re not here for idle chatter so don’t waste my time.”

>He grins, “Fair enough then.”

>He pulls his hands out of his leather jacket and motions over to your cot, “Let us sit.”

“I like to stand.”

>”Fine, I’ll sit you stand.”

>He plops down on the cot adjusting his weight.

>”This is one comfy bed. Think I can reserve this for a friend?”

“What do you want Anonymous?”

>”Straight to business then.”

>He looks you dead in the eye.

>”How would you like a second chance?”

 

“Get out. You’re wasting my time.”

>”Do not think me full of cheap tricks,” he warns. “I have the power to give you what you want. It is what you want isn’t it?”

>More than anything, but you’ll die all over again before telling him that.

“Go on…”

>”I can get you out of here and return life to that body of yours. That is,” he says with a grin, “if you do something for me.”

“This ‘something,’ what would it entail?”

>”Well I’m glad you asked, but instead of explaining it, I’d like to show you.”

>He steps towards you and places a hand on your head, “Relax.”

“Just hurry up.”

>”As you wish.” Images flash before your eyes. A field of monsters ravaging the landscape and decimating the armies of Equestria.

“You… wish for me to fight them?”

>”No,” he says with a laugh, “I want you to join them.”

 

>You push him off, revolted by his words.

“The hell are you on about? Just who are you?”

>”I am Anonymous, ruler of Equestria and your only chance at recovering your humanity.”

“You’re a monster, just like them, only you have the mind to make you something worse.”

>”Still waiting on that reply.” This is one arrogant son of a bitch.

“I laid my life on the line trying to fight people like you, and you expect me to just forget all of that?”

>”The ticks on these walls say yes. Just how long have you been a prisoner here?”

“I’ve lost count,” you lie. You know exactly how long you’ve been here.

>”And how much longer do you plan on staying?”

>His words cut deep. You said you’d find a way back. You told her that.

“No matter the cost…”

>”What was that?” You look back up to him and keep your anger held back.

“I don’t plan on it.”

 

>He gives you a grin that could shed the fur off a bear, “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

>He stands up, “Now I understand if you have business to finish up.”

“No, I’m ready when you are Anonymous.”

>”I almost forgot, as a condition to this deal, I would appreciate it if you called me sir, or lord, or-“

“Fuck you sir.”

>”Splendid,” he snaps his fingers whipping out a pen and paper. “Do leave a note. It’s awfully rude to leave without saying goodbye.”

>You don’t hesitate to snatch the two items out of the air, carefully inscribing your goodbye letter.

>You slam the note on your bed and face him.

“I’m ready to leave. Lead the way.”

>”With pleasure.” With a nap of his fingers the two of you are enveloped by a green flash, leaving Frostbite Prison behind.

>The guards find your note a couple hours later, a little memorial from you to them.

>Dickbutt.

 

>”Ahh, here we are. Home sweet home. Do make yourself comfortable.”

>Canterlot Castle. It’s been a long time since you walked these halls. This time you can sense the unmistakable loss of life.

>The vibrant atmosphere recall is absent, as are the p0nies who escorted you through this place.

>”Glad you’re back Anonymous. How was your trip?”

>An earth p0ny wearing a cowboy hat stands by the empty throne, her accent reminding you of the owners of Cider Springs.

>You could really go for a mug of their famous apple cider. “Good. Is everything ready?”

>”We’ve got as many p0nies as we can within the city, but we can’t keep it that way for long.”

>Anonymous nods and leads you up to the throne, “Prepare yourself Applejack, a storm is coming.”

>The mare named Applejack gives you a questionable look before leaving the throne room.

>Anonymous sits atop the throne and visibly unwinds, his limbs loosening.

 

>You contemplate ending him right there while he’s vulnerable, but the silence within your chest stays your hand.

>He got you out of Tartarus, but the blood in your veins still lies dormant. You need him… for now.

>You take note of the mare off to the room’s side along with the cello her feeble hoofs are clasped to.

>She looks like she hasn’t eaten in days as her arms tremble, her dark grey mane unkempt as well.

>You wonder what she did to deserve such treatment. What do you care though? You’re here for you; you can’t be worried about every mare harmed by this fucker.

>A royal guard approaches the throne and bows, his armor scorched and flank branded to prove his loyalty.

>”Sire, we’ve received a message from our contact in Ponyville.”

>”Speak then.”

 

>”She says that the last of the forces will be gathered by day’s end. If we strike now…”

>Anonymous interrupts him with a sway of his hand.

>“No. Let them come. Tell her that the plan will proceed as instructed.”

>”Yes sire.”

>The room is filled with a soothing silence. Thank the lord that Vic isn’t here to ruin it.

>You’re glad to be rid of that clingy dragon. His incessant need to speak tested even your own patience.

>”Octavia,” Anonymous says breaking the silence, “One more if you will.”

>The pale mare nods and works her hoof across the cello, an intoxicating melody escaping the cords.

>”That’s just what I needed,” Anonymous sighs as he slumps into his throne.

>You wait for her to finish her song, not wanting to interrupt such a piece of art.

“Sir, do you mind not wasting any more of my time?”

>”Quite the impatient one. Guard, please take Octavia back to her quarters.”

>The mare is led through a side door, her sobs falling on deaf ears.

 

>”So what shall you need to accomplish your mission?”

“Just give me a weapon, the rest I can manage.”

>The gleam in his eye troubles you as he practically leaps up from his throne.

>”What sort of weapon would a guy like you prefer? By the look of those biceps I’d say you were a hammer man.”

>With a snap of his fingers a sledgehammer falls into your grasp, “You could do some serious damage with that puppy.”

“It’s nice, but any opponent worth his salt could overcome this sluggish thing.”

>”Okay okay, so no hammers. Axes, nice for cleaving your foe in two.”

“I’m more of a sword guy myself.”

>He smirks, “Swords? How boring.”

“I’m not here to entertain you.”

>”Aha, I have just the thing.” With a snap of his fingers a katana appears in his hands.

 

>”Like it? I always wanted to try one of these, but never got the opportunity.”

>You stare blankly as he chops at the air like a monkey playing with a stick.

“Really? A katana?”

>This breaks him out of his fantasy world, ”What’s wrong with a katana?”

“Besides the fact that it makes you look like a weeaboo? Plenty of things.”

>He puts his hands on his hips, “Prove it Mr. Hotshot.”

“Gladius.”

>”A gladius? Like the Romans?” You nod. “They’re so boring, but hey, it’s your funeral… again.”

>You grab the sword as it appears and allow your arm to adapt to the weight.

>It’s a good fit, better than anything else that retard can conjure up.

“Alright then, come at me.”

>”With pleasure,” he cuts down at you in a single slash to which you block with ease.

>He slides the weapon off your blade and moves in again.

>You tap the blade upward, watching as his momentum sends him twirling around.

 

>You grab his forearm as he finishes spinning and press your sword against his throat.

“You lose.”

>He drops his sword and looks down at the blade, “Point taken.”

“Don’t shit yourself kid I’m not going to kill you.”

>”Kid? You’re not that much older than I am.”

>You give him a knowing look, “Okay, fine, but I’m not a kid.”

“Whatever you say sport,” you reply rolling your eyes.

>You sheathe the blade on your belt. “Where did you learn to fight like that anyways?”

“Lots and lots of practice,” You scan the room. “So where will I be staying?

>He’s rather taken aback by your bluntness, “Celestia’s chambers should be open for you to use.”

>You reject his offer, finding the thought of occupying your old friend’s chambers uncomfortable.

“My old room should still be around.”

 

>”Be ready to move in the morning. I can’t have my new best friend missing the action.”

>You grimace at his misuse of that term, but keep your cool. You can’t let your emotions get out of hand.

>Now if you remember right your chambers were in the east wing of the castle.

>The guards pay you little mind as you saunter through the halls.

>There are larger creatures as well, bigger than you even, each covered head-to-toe in armor.

>They seem like they could be trouble, but that’s the old you talking. You leave the mismatched creatures alone and continue on.

>Your footsteps echo throughout the desolate halls and you find yourself missing the lively chatter in time’s past.

>You pass by Gillian’s old room, now just another empty hole in the wall.

>This place really has gone to shit without Celestia around.

 

>A curious aroma catches your attention, the smell of fresh fruit and rich chocolate.

>It’s been so long since you’ve caught wind of something so delicious.

>You can look for your room later, you just need to find the source.

>Your nose leads you to the old kitchen where you spy a griffon sprucing up a plate of éclairs.

“Beautiful…”

>You stealth behind the wall and spy inside, waiting for your opportunity.

>The griffon twirls his comical moustache and moves back to the oven.

>You reach out your hand and levitate two of the appetizing desserts over to you, grasping their soft doughy exterior.

>Anon, you’ve done it again.

>You sink your teeth into it and are instantly overcome by a cornucopia of flavor.

>You finish off the two éclairs in a matter of seconds and you feel yourself starting to crave another.

>”Mine éclairs!” Aww shiiit.

 

>You sulk off as he goes in search of his missing desserts. It’s too bad for him that they’re tucked away in your belly.

>You lick the frosting off of your cold fingers and find yourself at the doorway.

>Your old room. How long has it been since Celestia first showed you here?

>She was so happy to have someone else around after her sister had… she never liked to talk about it.

>It must’ve been hard for her, just as hard as accepting Equestria as your new home.

>She tried to locate your home, but lacked the proper skill to find it.

>It all worked out in the end though, sort of.

>You turn the handle, the door creaking open.

>It’s been spruced up, but other than that it’s just the way you left it.

>You peel off your clothing and shut the door.

 

>You set your clothes in a neat pile on the table, a habit you picked up in prison.

>The old sheets are the same, though they lack the warmth you remember.

>You slip into the sheets and stare at the ceiling.

>This is your first night out of the joint. You thought you would’ve felt… you don’t know. Happier maybe?

>You wonder how the others are taking your sudden absence. Celestia will take care of Vic without a doubt, she never turned away a needy soul.

>Howler’s still pissing himself likely, watching every corner wondering when you’re going to strike.

>You just wish you could see that fucking warden’s face when he finds your note.

>It brings a smile to your face as you imagine that scenario.

>You roll on your side and close your eyes.

“I’m on my way back…”