Sherm: My Little Anon: Episode 48

>You close the door behind you

>No time to think

>You need to get over to Spike, and you need to do it fast

>But you can't do it with the letter that The Boss gave you

>Speaking of, you look over both of your shoulders and open the scroll

>Dear Princess Celestia,

>You squint one eye as you read

>Whoever was writing these perfectly forged the writing style of Spike

>It spoke of normalcy, of lessons learned in friendship

>There was nothing alarming about it

>Well, it was time for you to do some editing

 

>Moments later, you run to the indicated barn, the one which held spike

>And with spike, the conclusion to this whole mess

>Spike was the line of communication between the Ponies and Celestia, after all

>The Boss' whole plan revolved around Celestia never finding out

>Well, now he's going to get a little complication

>You pass through the door way

>The place doubles as a store house for crates of drugs

>Drugs which are currently being hefted about by their crews

>Loaded into nearby wagons

>You immediately notice a problem with this

>But you hope that nothing comes of it

>You'll be fine

>Armed with your gangster threads, no one is guessing that you're that dead human

>You plan to keep it that way

>You take a quick head count

>The barn doors were wide open, and well lit

>No hiding if you blow this

>There must have been thirty guys working to move the heavy crates

>And then you see Spike

>The purple pile of defiant depression

>He is contained in a box cage

>A thick padlock secures it

>And, to top it off, there is a mobster guarding it armed with one of those crossbows they love so much

>You look to the barn doors, seeing that everyone is busy

>Well, shit. You're going to have to make this quick

>What are you even worried about?

>All Spike needs to do is send the letter

>He doesn't even need to know that he's sending a letter telling Celestia everything

>You make your way towards Spike's holding

>You hold your cap down on your head with one hand

>Hold your coat closed with the other, clutching the scroll

>As soon as you get there, the guard gets in your way

>He holds out his hand

>You hesitate

>“C'mon. You know the drill.”

...Drill?

>This one's sharp. He immediately snorts. He knows something is up

>“The Boss wants us to proof read every letter that goes through this dragon.”

>Spike looks up from his cage and peers at you two

>You can tell they barely keep him fed

>Just enough to keep him alive

>And he's miserable

>The frown on his face is testament to that, and the way he looks upon you with hate-filled eyes

>“Oh, boy. Another letter for Celestia.”

>He speaks heavily sarcastically

>The guard dog knocks the cage

>“Quiet, you.”

>He turns to you once more

>“Alright, Pal. Hand it over or I tell the Boss.”

>The walls close in on you

>You do as told, and hand the scroll over

>He unfolds it and reads

>“What the h--”

>You lean back, throw your right past your shoulder, and come into him with the biggest overhand that you think you've ever committed to

>You nail him right in the head

>He yelps and falls back, knocking over Spike's cage

>“H...hey!”

>The guard dog groans

>“Why, you!”

>God damnit, the guy wasn't knocked out in a single shot like you hoped

>Good going, Anon

>“Hey, guys!!”

>He calls out past you

>You throw a kick right up his chin

>His head is thrown back as he hits the dirt

>There you go, he's done

>Spike groans from being violently thrown around

>You quickly kneel down, grab the guard's key ring, and work the lock

Spike, send the letter.

>You pull the cage open

>“...Anon?”

>You don't have time

Send the letter!

>You stand, and just then you are pulled at the shoulder

>You turn, and a fist collides into your face

>You go tumbling into the wall

>Your attacker lunges in to drive his knuckles into your face again

>You quickly move, causing his hand to hit the wooden wall

>He yelps and squeaks, grabbing his throbbing hand

>You see that the workers have all abandoned what they were doing and are coming at you

>Oh, God, it's a whole company of em'

>You throw off your hat and coat

>It's WAY too early for this shit

 

>It's all familiar to you

>Too familiar

>The moments pass in a blur of prismatic color

>No time to think

>You grab your former attacker by the shoulder and hurl him into the oncoming gang workers

>Meanwhile, Spike breathes on the scroll and it vanishes in a cloud of green embers

>“Done!”

>He says enthusiastically

>Immediately, a worker coming in from behind and traps him in a hold

>You're too busy with your own fight to notice

>“Anon!”

>A fist comes out of nowhere and drives into your gut, causing you to double over

Oof!

>One jumps on your back and tries to get a strangle hold, but you grip his arm and drag him over your shoulder

>He hits the ground like a sack of potatoes

>You won't give up

>You know that Dash wouldn't

>You know that Dash DIDN'T

>And now she's in trouble, and you have to help her

>You right yourself just in time to see another one coming at you

>He is armed with an iron pipe, and takes a swing

>You throw your dukes up and sway under it, causing him to clock one of his comrades in the cheek with it

>There is a stream of blood as the victim spirals to the ground

>You throw an uppercut with your right, clocking the guy in the chin

>He staggers back

>You reach your hands forward and grab him by the tuft of his collar with both hands and violently swing him around to your other side

>It just so happens that three other mobsters were coming at you from exactly that side

>You plant your left leg, lean in, and deliver a straight kick – turning your captive into a projectile and bowling all of them over

>They bark at one another, confused

>You are launched forward and trip over the whole pile uncontrollably, being kicked in the back

>You fall, but quickly manage to roll up to your feet

>You are quickly finding yourself surrounded

>“Com'ere!”

>One beckons you and runs in, trying to be really cool by doing some kind of karate kick

>You've fought actual kickers before. This guy didn't know what the crap he was doing

>You jive past the kick, twirl around, and throw a reverse elbow into his jaw

>There's a snap, and he falls

>One brave bastard lunges in at you and tries for a straight into your gut

>You take it, feeling the burn, and use the opportunity to grab his arm

>“What?!”

>He yelps

>You hoist him around and throw yourself forward, launching him over your him and straight into the ground

>By Celestia, this was starting to hurt

>But just because it isn't fun doesn't mean you can give up

>Pinkie Pie sure didn't give up on you when you were in trouble

>“Git em'!”

>You'd like to say that you felt unstoppable

>But you're getting tired

>Two more come at you at the same time

>You take the offensive and throw a jab with your left hand, clocking one in the eye

>You finish him off by throwing your hips to power a right cross right into his snout, flooring him

>The second dog goes for a haymaker

>You throw your right arm into the crook of his elbow, stopping it

>You follow through by ramming your left elbow into his neck, and then grabbing him by the tuft of his collar

>You hurl him at his comrades, hoping to break the ring that has formed around you

>Alas, it doesn't break

>You are completely, totally surrounded

>Yet another lunges at you, raising both of his fists and bringing them down to pummel you

>You throw up your dukes and cross your arms over your head, blocking his attempt

>You shoulder check him off balance

>Then you grab him by the shoulder and pull him into a power house right hook, sending him sailing through the air

>You wonder if this was the kind of frustration Twilight felt when she was trying to help you in this new world

>Nothing went her way

>But she kept going, anyway

>Because she's a fucking trooper

>Because she's a good friend who deserves better than what she gets

>A fist comes in from your side and knocks your shoulder, causing you to whirl around and face a large bulldog

>He throws up his dukes as well

>Oh, cute

>He leans to the right and darts in, throwing a jab with his left

>You swish under it and to the inside, slipping a right cross past his arm and straight into his face

>He goes out like a light

>Two jump on you

>You're getting worried

>You're sweating

>You manage to throw one off of you, but the second one is being really clingy

>He is joined by another one, and another

>You fall to the floor

 

>“We got him!”

>“Tell the Boss!”

>One of them gets in your face and delivers a sinister canine grin, content that they finally got you

>You draw your head back and slam your cranium into his face

>“Ahow!”

>He grabs his face and falls back

>You flex your arms and try to get free

>But it's no use

>No matter how much you try

>No matter how much you fight

>You feel like the whole world is holding you down

>Suddenly, you manage to wrest your fight hand free

>Wrong arm to loose your grip on, fellows

>You quickly hammer a fist into the face of the one who was controlling your right arm

>“Who IS this guy?!”

>You hurl your body over your left shoulder and snap a right hook against the guy on top of you

>He staggers off

>You start climbing back up, but more dogpile onto you

>Doesn't matter

>You let loose a scream of blood lusted psychosis that can only be described as a warcry

>You got too many people counting on you

>You will not go down, here

>You cannot go down, here

>There's a guy in front of you; you throw an overhand and drive him into the floor like a nail

>You twirl around and grip the guy on your back, throwing him over your head and straight down into the floor before kicking him while he's down

>Again

>And again

>Your eyes go blood shot

>Your teeth grit

>You're in that place again

>That place you hated

>A hand grabs your face and drives you around before the back of your head slams into a wooden crate

Nnghn!

>You groan, loudly

>You take a punch to the face

>A cut opens up on your forehead

>The attacker goes in for another one, but you throw yo your dukes and deflect the shot

>You then grip his head with both of your hands and drive him down into your rising right knee

>There's a wet crack, but you do it once more for good measure

>He pounces back and falls once you release him

>How many has it been?

>How many more?

>Your lungs go into overdrive

>Suddenly, you hear a new sound

>The mechanism of bows cocking

>You look up above you, and atop the stacks of crates a number of mobsters have full sized crossbows leveled on you

>Their diamond headed bolts glimmer in the light

>“That's enough, tough guy.”

>You stagger

>“Nice and easy, now.”

>You take stock of your surroundings

>If you aren't walled in by stacked boxes, there's a half dozen or more guys in the way

>You turn, responding to a hit on your shoulder

>You're just in time to find a fist flying straight into your face

>You crash into the ground, your head bouncing off the foundation before it whiplashes back to the hard, cold surface

>Sorry, guys

>You wish you could have done more

>But whatever happens

>You take heart that you've alerted Celestia