It was late at night in the dead of winter, and you were bathed in the light of your screens in your darkened room, as you shitposted until the wee hours of the morning, as you were apt to do at times like these.
 
     After all, with what little obligations to the outside world you had, you could care less about what the president’s latest mishaps, or the latest celebrities’ major social faux-pas, or what have you. Right now, there were bigger fish to fry in your mind, like that asshat who was trying to wreak havoc unto your virtual nation!
 
    The reckless warmonger had been trying to get at your iron for a solid 500 years now, and you were having none of it right now. With a tried and true strategy, and a lucky roll of RNG while the map was being made, your spear men posted on the high mountains had held back his ferocious tide of troops and siege machinery again and again, beating out impossible odds. As you sat back and watched your men clear the valleys of the invading mass, you waited on your turn to come once more.
 
    Tapping your fingers on the mouse, you were growing quickly impatient with every passing second, until the song that you had on had come to an abrupt halt, heralded by that damned yellow triangle over the network in the lower corner of the screen. Rather strange, considering that you were wired to the router, but you had chalked it up to the ISP fixing their shit again. That was, until you felt the thumping of footsteps beneath you.
 
    You’d lived alone for quite a while now, coasting on a shrinking island of savings and inheritances, and you didn’t often get people coming over. What little friends you had were either entirely online, or couldn’t keep up with your crazy schedule in the real world.
   
    At this ungodly hour, the only people who should be here would be a delivery person and your fine self. Deducing that, you grabbed the sheathed katana that leaned against your dresser and slipped out of your bedroom and down the stairs, into the unknown.
 
 
    Peeking around the corner, you skimmed and scanned the hallways as the frosty air blew bitingly, catching the silhouettes of your home invaders rummaging around your home for their next big take. Unsheathing the Sino-Japanese blade slowly, you come around the corner with a light step to try to catch them by surprise.
 
    “What the fucking hell do you think you’re doing, shitlords?!” you scream at the top of your lungs at the burglars, holding your sword high in the air, the light catching the blade as one of them looks up at you with a steely gaze as he swiftly deposited heirlooms and technology alike into his sack.
 
    “We don’t have time for kids trying to play hero! Deal with him!” He hollered as he pointed at you while moving to the door with his precious cargo through the kitchen. You charged at him with a rebel’s yell, blade held steady as you attempted to close the gap, stumbling as he knocked chairs down to put some distance between you and him.
 
    With just under a foot between the him and the tip of your blade, You jump… and fall out the air with a resounding clonk, bouncing and skidding until you had hit the edge of the counter, the cheap katana landing on its tip and shattering into dozens of pieces. It was one of the last things you could remember seeing in detail, everything else you’d seen was blurred and everything else you heard was muffled by the ringing in your ears.
 
    Running out with the blood stained frying pan in his hands, E had run out to the streets to check on his accomplice; they were expecting a milk run, they’d scoped the place out numerous times beforehand, and with what information they had, the place was practically deserted at all hours. Hell, most of the stands and bookcases were lined with dust that’d been there for months
 
    “What do you wanna do with the kid?” E asked, crouching and holding his buddy who was catching his breath in the winter’s chill.
 
    “Go back in and see if he’s still kicking...” T panted out as he rested his shaking hands on his hips before looking back to E and handing him a transparent bottle of red and white pills. “If he is, shove a couple of these in his mouth, gimme a holler and we’ll load him into the van” T finished as he stood back up, walked over to the beige van and stowed the stolen goods.
 
    E walked back up the cobbled steps to the ransacked house, with pills in hand, and walked into the kitchen where the kid was knocked out cold, in a pool of his own blood. Setting down the dented cookware on the floor, E could see that he was still breathing, but it was shallow. Opening up the container with a crisp *pop * and shaking the pills into his gloved hand, E had recoiled at the dank smell of them. There were questions to be had, sure, but that was for later.
 
    Rolling the kid onto his side, E had jammed the pills into his mouth and massaged them down his throat, the powerful smell subsiding as he went outside to catch up to T at the beige van.
 
    “Ok, I did what you said, but god damn man, if I had kush as dank as that, I’d be locked up for sure!” E laughed, his breath condensing in the air while fanning himself with his hands jokingly. “So, what’s the deal with the drugs, though?” he asked with a more serious tone
 
    Pulling out a tarp that had seen much better days from the back of the van, T simply chuckled and said “You’ll have to see it to believe it, and trust me, I had a hard time believing it the first time I seen it”
 
    “What the hell are you talking about, T?” E said hurriedly as the two of them walked back into the kitchen to see what the hell T had planned for the would-be defender, only to discover that in place of the kid that had rushed them, was a small, pale yellow winged horse with a light grey mane.
 
 
 
    E only had a look of utter confusion on his face, but T looked up to him and slid the patched, grey tarp underneath. “Those pills have quite the kick to them, but we’re running outta time. I’ll explain on the way back.” T said, motioning to E to help him lift the horse. It was surprisingly light, considering the size of him (her?), making it easy to carry back to the van through the snow.
 
    Closing the doors and starting up the engine, T had looked back to their cargo, inanimate and otherwise, smiled and started to pull away from the scene of the crime.
 
    “So, what’s the deal with those pills? What the fuck do they do, and why the fuck did it make that kid a horse?!” E yelled, gesturing with his hands while the small suburb transitioned into open woods behind them
    “Those pills, E? Well, to put it bluntly, give a high that lasts six times as long as a good cocaine hit, make you feel more vividly than a hit of molly, smells like an Italian restaurant on a saturday night, and turns people into horses. There’s good money to be made selling folks who’ve overdosed on them, like our buddy in the back” T answered coolly, gripping the steering wheel tight.
 
    “How much money would we be talking about, and why horses, of all things?” E asked with an annoyed tone, gazing out the passenger window
 
    Letting out a sigh, T kept his eyes on the road and flatly stated “I was looking online, and the average going price is about 50 grand. As for why the hell it makes people into horses, no one really knows why.”
 
    “Holy shit, 50 fucking grand? And how much do these pills cost?” E said amazed.
 
    “A few months ago, you could pay about 100 bucks per pill at a run-down bowling alley and they’ll make sure you don’t OD, and it takes something like 3 gallons of pasta sauce to make, so like $30 or so for a batch.” T answered, chuckling,
 
    “Wait, You sound like you’ve done this before.” E said, wagging a finger at his co-accomplice.
 
    “That’s because I’ve made it and used it before.” T smirked.
 
The world is spinning around you, and you have, not a word of a lie, the world’s biggest headache right now as your eyes refuse to open. The day after your 19th birthday had nothing on this level of pain as you groaned and tried to hold your head to keep everything steady.
 
    You couldn’t wiggle your fingers and toes but you could still feel your arms and legs, although they felt numb and hard as you ran them over your face, feeling something horribly wrong with it as you screamed out {“WHAT THE FUCK?!”} and backed into a wall that was behind you.
 
    The rattling ahead of you and the twitchy movement of something atop your head did nothing to calm you down as your eyes opened and closed, giving you brief glimpses of what’s even going on, and   the feeling of thick plumage at your sides just irked your curiosity even further.
 
    Laying on your belly and spreading your hard capped limbs out to your sides, you forcibly kept your eyes shut and slowly breathed in through your nose and out through your mouth, the frantic thrashing of your heart slowing down to a more manageable beat.
 
    ‘In, two, three, four… Out, two, three, four...’ You thought quietly as your unfamiliar body had relaxed itself; well, as relaxed as you could be in a situation like this.
   
    Opening your eyes out of curiosity instead of panic, you gaze around the room and take everything in. Beams of whitish-orange light shine through the windows above, illuminating the warehouse you found yourself in. Half-disassembled cars, trucks lay strewn about haphazardly, with parts scattered about as if they were blown violently away from them.
 
    A pale tan (or was it yellow? It was hard to tell) muzzle protruded from your sight-line as you looked to the cage door ahead of you, but it seemed locked tightly as you tried tackling it with your side, the harsh rattling of the door as you do hurting your ears, which were no longer on the sides of your head, but rather were the cause of the rustling atop your head.
 
Turning your head towards your body, you inspect yourself and your body as best as you can without making yourself woozy.
 
    That thick blanket of heat you had felt on your sides? They were a set of scruffy, wings! You had freaking wings! You were in a state of absolute awe as you looked at them, and spread them wide. Well, as wide as you can in the cramped cage, which wasn’t all that much.
 
    As you did, light yellow feathers had fluttered to the floor, knocked loose when you’d tried to tackle the door to no avail. The wings, YOUR wings, seemed like they could use a good preening, a lot of the secondary feathers weren’t right, you had pondered before shaking your head at the thought that had perched itself in your mind.
 
    Focusing back on the situation at hoof… at hand! You try to recall your name and you think it  was Lem… No, it was Anon! Wasn’t it? Ugh, you thinking about your identity crisis was making your head hurt even more as you covered your fluffy ears with your hands, scratch that, hooves.
 
    {“Fuck”}, You mutter under your breath, as you feel your tail settle behind you. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. At least you finally knew that you were a horse, no, a pegasus, your mind reminded you insistently.