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// Intermission 1. Anon-A-Miss: We Built This City. 
// Story: Taking Back Canterlot 
// by Coyote de La Mancha 
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The broadcast started with a black screen.
The footage faded in quickly. It was silent and jerky, with the frame rate of an old, cheap cartoon. But the story it told spoke louder than words. Sometimes it would shift from one camera to another, always angled from above. But the date/time stamp at the upper left corner kept running, and made it very clear that all the footage, sometimes indistinct through the falling water but always telling in its indiscriminate violence, was from the same event.
In the lower right, a silhouette formed, obviously a lighting effect applied to a real person. At first, she stood almost motionless in front of the footage’s green screen effect. A woman, slender of build with a mane of long, wavy hair, wearing a jacket with a distinctive collar.
“As of this broadcast,” the figure said, “it was almost exactly twenty-four hours ago that Canterlot was reminded of why so many of us have trouble sleeping at night. Of why we don’t let our children out of the house anymore. Of why we don’t talk about anything that matters when we might be overheard. Especially anything dealing with police violence, purchased elections, or corporate takeovers.”
The vocal distortion was just enough to fool voice recognition, not enough to obscure her tone or gender. The shadow hiding her features was just enough to allow plausible deniability. But by now, after over three years of underground broadcasts, there was almost no one who didn’t recognize her, or at least her outline. And no matter who you were, if you’d seen her work, then you also knew the handle she used, both online and as a street artist.
“This is Anon-A-Miss, reminding you that this footage – you saw it first on Channel 8 News – was live as hell, coming from inside the Canterlot courthouse. In it, you can see with your own eyes the city’s gestapo doing their usual overkill without regard for anybody in their way. This is raw security camera footage. Nothing about this was doctored. No CGI or stock footage, regardless of what the people who own the networks and think they own the city want you to believe.”
The scene behind her shifted to the police commissioner, shaking his head as he descended the court house steps, waving off questions from almost every news channel in the city. The silhouette glanced up at him, then back to address the camera, crossing her arms as she did.
“The Powers That Be cracked down on the transmission, of course. And official statements have been sparse. But I think that our local commissar having no comment as he left the building’s wreckage was pretty telling. So did the networks, until their parent company told them to shut up and sit down, like nice doggies. And they did, of course. They always do.”
As Commissioner Shining’s car sped away from the press, the background scene shifted again, fading into an earlier scene on those same steps, of a newscaster speaking excitedly into her mic as lights flashed in the windows above her.
“But the company’s problem is that there are still journalists out there. And every now and then, those journalists remember why they got into the game in the first place. They remember what ‘journalistic integrity’ means. And they can do a lot for the cause before they get shut down.
“Rundown, the journalist who ran the piece, is on indefinite leave from her job. And, less known, so is Nat Sound, the guy who was running the camera and transmitting the footage. They both ignored the studio when they were told to shut up and spin, and now they pay the price for having souls. At least, for the moment.”
Rundown faded away, overrun by a seemingly endless cascade of hundred dollar bills filling the screen. Anon-A-Miss glanced at the falling money, then once again faced the camera, gesturing emphatically as she did.
“But the thing is, even though Carousel owns controlling interest in every news channel in the city, their stock holders all want the same thing: money. If doing this kind of garbage becomes unprofitable, they will stop on a goddamn dime. And we, as a people, need to stand up for these two! We owe it to every person who stands up for the truth to return the favor. Because when they stand up for the truth, they’re standing up for us, too.”
Then, several URLs appeared in white at the bottom of the screen. Pointing downward, the silhouette added, “PS: click on the links below for how to make sure your voice is heard by these corporate creeps, and how to make punishing journalists for telling the truth unprofitable.”
As the links faded away, the moneyfall parted like curtains. They revealed Starlight Glimmer, smugly speaking in her interview with Graceful Poise. Pointing at her for a moment, Anon-A-Miss continued:
“Meanwhile, because they own your media, your banks, your police and your homes, Starlight Glimmer thinks she and Carousel own you. But the reality is, no matter how many millions they spend or how many lies they spin, they can never, ever, own your lives.”
The scene froze on Starlight gesturing proudly towards an overhead screen showing Canterlot’s best known and most exclusive neighborhood of high-rise apartments and the massive office building they surrounded. Atop the office building was the word, CAROUSEL. Below it rested the company’s sunburst logo. 
“Over the last three years,” Anon-A-Miss snarled, “Carousel has forged an empire off of media manipulation, stolen technological advances, and corporate-backed housing swindles. An empire defended by cops bought and paid for, and by street gangs taking corporate money in exchange for targeting corporate competitors and vocal critics of their corporate masters… and in at least one case, for becoming an unofficial security force for the company itself.”
The scene slowly began to fade to black as she continued speaking, all save for the orange sunburst, which gradually attained a brighter glow.
“And, by all measures, there is no better symbol for their evil than the personal mark of Celestia, former principal of Canterlot High. The crest of the woman who gave her life in a vain attempt to save her students, years ago… quietly incorporated since then as a company logo. Its original meaning deliberately corrupted for profit, her life and her sacrifice now all but forgotten.”
The sunburst vanished, the screen becoming a void of darkness, the silhouette a marginally visible shadow within it.
“But now,” the woman’s voice went on, “we can see that evil empire finally starting to crack. And with the Rainbooms at their gates, Glimmer and Carousel have a real fight on their hands. And while they will fight, make no mistake. 
“They. Will. Lose.”
Footage began to fade in to fill the void. Older cell phone footage of street gangsters… not in the colors of the current Three Gangs of the city, but in blue, in yellow, in red. Fire fights running rampant across the city streets of Canterlot, through the neighborhood and around the school that the buildings in the previous shots had ultimately replaced. 
“They will lose,” she went on, becoming more animated, “not because the Rainbooms are so badass – although they are – but because the Rainbooms have fought this fight before. In my next broadcast, I’ll be covering the rise and fall of the Sirens, the three women who were the prime movers behind the Equestria Gang War. The same war that the talking heads have been trying to lay at the Rainbooms’ feet ever since Carousel rose to power. And I’ll show you, through historical record, what most of you will hopefully already remember: how the Rainbooms saved us from a growing empire of violence and corruption that was tearing the city apart.
“And now, maybe, just maybe, the Rainbooms will do it again.”
The silhouette’s voice rose as she continued, “And as for Starlight Glimmer, I’ll just say this: she may have the money… but we are the people. And baby, there are millions of us! 
“Carousel had to stop their housing scams last year, because of the people. Their nuclear plant is under federal investigation, because of the people. The media is starting to reveal the truth, even when they know they’ll be punished, because of the people. Carousel has the cops, the politicians, and even the Three Gangs for their allies. But now, for the first time since the Sirens and their empire fell… we’ve got allies too!”
She was almost shouting now, her movements giving full reign to her passions, all pretense of neutrality forgotten. This was no newscaster, underground or no. This was a revolutionary, and she was calling out to any and all who would listen with every ounce of her soul.
“So when you see the hype, you just remember: these are the people that Starlight Glimmer wants you to fear because she’s afraid! Afraid they’ll topple her kingdom like they did the last time petty tyrants tried to run us down! Afraid that they’ll carry the fight in ways we can’t! And most of all, afraid they’ll help you remember that the city belongs not to her, but to those who live in it!”
With some effort, the speaker pulled herself back. But while her motions and voice became more sedate, her intensity wavered none at all:
“So if you see these women, give ‘em a shout! Let them know you know they’ve got your back, and that you’ve got theirs! If there’s some small way you can help them out, something that won’t get you busted by the cops, do it. And when the time comes, and it will… be ready to take a stand.”
Behind her, the screen shifted to a montage of police violence and Starlight Glimmer speeches, shifting from full-color to black and white.
“This has been Anon-A-Miss, saying: keep circulating the videos, keep to the truth, and don’t let anybody program you but yourself.”
The silhouette vanished. There was a pause as the footage montage continued for a few seconds. Then it, too, faded back into the void from whence it had come.