//------------------------------//
// Chapter 2, The Bootlegger 
// Story: Another ANON FILLY Story 
// by FIM Fiction 
//------------------------------//



The Gods scream when a roach joins their ranks.



Anon let out a yawn, stretching his arms upwards. "Gawdyum, it feels like its gonna be a fantastic day." Anon tossed aside his night cap, checking a calendar on the wall. "Let's see, it's a week day in the summer of 1924. First things first. A nice HOT shower." 

Anon went to his drawers and pulled out a somewhat ragged suit, and proper undergarments. He bunched them under his arm, heading to his bathroom. "Anon sings loudly," sang Anon, moving a hand through the air, as though he was conducting. He threw off his pajamas, turning on the water. "Anon sings , then- Oh, the water's warmed up!" Anon stepped into the shower, tapping in tune on the wall.

A loud tapping sounded in reply from the floor. "Keep it down!" a muffled voice called out angrily. 

Anonymous hummed loudly, before he started drumming on the wall. "Anon continues to sing loudly" he sang,  lathering his body with a bar of soap. The tapping from beneath the floor soon became a loud banging.

"Boy, don't you test me now, darn you!" the voice called out. "I swear, you keep at that and there'll be trouble!"

Anon let out a laugh. "You stole my pants last week Mrs Croumer! You can stuff it where the sun don't shine!" He set his  bar of soap to the side, and had a thought. He started to tap dance, the thuds shaking the shower slightly. 

"That's it! You've forced my wrath you stupid boy! Behold, the power of Voodoo!" The thuds from the floor stopped, replaced by a faint chanting.

"Voodoo ain't nothing but a bunch of hoodoo, Mrs Croumer," Anon said, continuing to dance. "Anon continues singing, and gets cut off by himself- Whoa SHI-!" Anon slipped as he found his bar of soap had fallen to his feet. A loud THUD sounded as he fell. Anon let out a groan as he lay in the shower. 

"Ha haa! Serves you right boy!" Laughter could be heard clearly. "Serves you RIGHT!"

Anon let out a groan. "Ya know something? I think I'm gonna take a bath." It's times like these Mrs Croumer makes me wonder if Voodoo is real.





Anon finished his bowel of cereal, smacking his lips. "Ah, Wheaties. The breakfast of champions!" He let out a burp and headed to the door, leaving his dishes on the table. He hesitated for a moment, before heading to the kitchen cabinet. He pulled out a bottle of beer and put it in his coat. He headed over to a full sized mirror he made out of broken shards, to make sure he was presentable.

Momma always said a man's gotta look his best. So I might as well check and see. Black suit, check. Red tie, popping with color. Dark brown leather long coat. Check and warm! Brown leather sidebag. Checkiroo! Hat. Hat?

Anon stared at his bald dome of a head. "Ah hell, what I do with my hat?" He scratched his head, before checking his bag. "Oh yeah. I put it there so I wouldn't forget." He took out the hat and planted it firmly. "Much better." Beer bottle in hand, he headed out the door to go about his day.

Anon walked out into the hall of the apartment complex, tiptoeing towards the stairs. He opened his beer, the cap making a slight hiss. "ADAM!" A door slammed open as Anon let out a groan. A somewhat old, bald and fat man in a white shirt and striped trousers stepped into the hall. He had an angry handlebar mustache.

"Oh yes, Mr Landlord?" Anon asked, turning around, holding a now open beer bottle behind him.

"It's Alderman, dammit!" Mr Landlord exclaimed. "Listen here, Oswald Naylor! You are making too much damn noise every damn morning!" He shook his fist in anger. "So either you and that damn negro play nice, or I'll toss you both on the streets!"

A second door loudly creaked open from poor hinges. A black woman in a red dress and a man's ill-fitting dress shirt poked her head out. "You ain't gonna kick me out, Alderman! You do that, and I'll sing to your wife bout how I pay my rent!"

Alderman turned to face Mrs Croumer, his ears turning red. "The hell you mean, you lousy black broad!? I haven't as so much seen your ankles!"

"Oh, I never even said anything bout that Mister!" Mrs Croumer shouted back. "I was meaning cleaning all your clothes thoroughly with your washboard!"

"What in the hell are you talking about? You've never done my laundry!"

"I'm talking about me slobbering on your-"

Anon quickly headed down the stairs as the two argued, making the most of the opportunity. He headed out into the morning air, giving a sigh of relief. He pulled out his bottle of beer, giving a smile. His smile fell as he saw a cop on the street corner, simply staring. The cop made a motion of pouring out the liquid. Anon sighed, and pulled out a mug from his satchel. He poured all the beer into the mug, and dropped the bottle in his bag.

The officer arched a brow. "Whatcha got there, son?" he asked, twirling his baton.

Anon raised his mug to eye level. "Homemade beer in a mug. All drinks taste better in a mug." The officer seemed uncertain, and started reaching for his handcuffs. "The previous batch gave me stomach problems, so this should be the perfected recipe." Anon down the mug with several heavy gulps. "Yup, you're looking at the next biggest distributor of alcohURK!" Anon doubled over. "Actually I think the recipe could be worked on a little more." He stumbled over to a trashcan, knocking off the lid, and began dry heaving.

The officer let out a laugh. "Yup, I bet you'll go far!" He shook his head and started walking down the street. "I'd love to stay and talk, but I gotta walk my beat." He hummed a tune as he walked down the street, simply smiling as Anon heaved.

Anon kept heaving until the officer  was out of sight, before standing up. "Wow. I cannot believe that worked." Anon smiled, before a glint in the trashcan caught his eye. He reached in, pushing aside some spoiled food. His eyes shot open. Simply sitting in the can was a golden crown with a purple gem sitting in it's center. "HOLY-" He slammed his hands over his mouth, glancing around. "HOLY FRICK." 

Anon reached in and carefully grabbed the crown, slowly pulling it out. He stared at it for a moment, taking in its beauty.

A crown made of solid gold, with a six pointed star of amethyst flat in the center. Golden bands held the star in place, with large blue gems along the band. It's beautiful, well crafted. Leaves a warm happy feeling inside. And likely worth an absolute fortune. 

Anon quickly stuffed the crown in his bag, looking around. "Oh my gosh, I'm gonna be so rich!" He started pacing. "Okay, okay, I could go and sell it straight away. But I need someone who'll buy it without trying to see if it belongs to someone..."

"Adam!"

Anon gave a small shriek. He quickly spun around. "Oh hi Mrs Croumer! How are you doing?"

The lady smiled. "I'm doing just fine, honey. But you gotta moved your hinny to that interview, remember?"

Anon smacked his head. "By golly, you're right! I gotta go! See you Mrs Croumer! Tell the Alderman Brothers I'll be back with their rent!" he said, taking off down the street.

"I'm an only child, you moron!" Alderman shouted from a higher up window.

"Then why is food for two entering that apartment? Your wife don't live here!" Mrs Croumer shouted up at Alderman.

"How much I eat Is none of your..." Anon simply let out a hearty laugh as the sound of his friends slowly faded.




*AT THE SAVORY TREAT, JAMESON ST*

Anon walked along the street, heading to a diner with a HELP WANTED sign. He took a moment to admire the street, enjoying the trees lining it, with a library across the street. He entered the shop, walking to the counter. Standing behind it was a tall scrawny man, with the sharpest jaw he had ever seen. Anon couldn't tell if he was a grown man or a teenager. The uniform was somewhat ridiculous, with a pink and yellow Soda Jerk hat and vertically striped shirt. On the bright side, he was wearing plain ol jeans.

"Welcome to the Savory Treat! How sweet can I make your day?" the man asked.

"I'm here for a job interview, actually," Anon explained. "Can I speak with the manager?"

"I'll do you one better!" the man said cheerfully. "Kromet Cake, owner and founder!" He reached forth a  hand, and rigorously shook Anon's. "Just sit in that booth over there, and I'll be right with you!"

Well, Mr Cake seems cheerful. I just hope he's in need of workers, considering how small this place is. If he isn't, then I guess I'll still be good with the crown.

Anon walked over to the corner booth, sliding into the seat. He stared idly out the window, watching as a man on a bike went by. He wasn't the biggest fan of hot summers, but he did love how warm the sun felt. He looked back at Mr Cake, who was setting a young cheerful looking lady with poofy hair at the register, before heading over to the booth. Anon's eyes widened a little as the man seemed to jump into his chair. 

"Right then, I assume you're the one who sent a letter last week?" Mr Cake asked, pulling out a folder. 

"Yessir, that was me," Anon could feel the lady at the register staring at him. Usually he'd feel flattered, but this felt a little intense. 

"Sorry about the lack of a coat rack. We're trying to get things set up, and filling in the gaps as we go along." Mr Cake frowned for a moment. "You have your name written down as Anon?" he asked. Anon started to pull out his ID, his hand brushing across the crown. Mr Cake's eyes glimmered for a moment, before reading a different paper. "Ah, I see. Your full name is Adam Noah Oswald Naylor. My, that's a mouthful." Mr Cake looked up from the paper with a slightly confused expression. "Why not go by Adam Naylor?" he asked.

"Well, my mom decided to name me after every important person in her life. So when she went sleeping, I decided to honor that," Anon explained. "I shortened it so others could honor it too."

"Oh." Mr Cake looked over the papers. "Well, it seems you were fired from multiple jobs for..." He paused, and set down the papers. "Actually, I would like to hear from you. Why were you fired?"

Anon blinked. "Well, I didn't expect this..." He took a few breaths. "I won't bore you with some sob story, or paint myself a victim of misunderstanding. I got fired because I decided to pull some pranks, mess around on work time. I don't do that anymore though, so you don't need to be concerned over that."

Mr Cake slowly nodded. "Ah. Well that's a shame then. We're not looking for people like that." 

Anon groaned, and hung his head. "I understand sir."

"We want some goofballs."

Anon's head rose as he gave Mr Cake a confused look. "Excuse me?"

Mr Cake chuckled. "Here at the Savory Treat, we want people to know this is a place they can relax and have some fun! A strict cashier can't bring smiles after all. So, consider yourself hired!"

Anon stared blankly for a few seconds. "What?"

"Didn't you hear, silly?" Anon jumped as he realized the cashier girl was right next to him. "You got the job!"

"Horse feathers!" Anon flinched away. "When did you get here!?"

"I work here, silly!" the girl said, a wide grin on her face. "I'm Diana! I'll be your coworker soon, so when you come into work tomorrow, I'll teach you all you need to know! Like the ovens, stoves, how to make a fantastic burger, the best way to prepare a cookie sheet, how to defend the secret cake recipe with your life, you to properly clean tables, and more!"

"Actually, I was thinking he'd start next week," Mr Cake explained to Diana, motioning her away. She skipped back and hopped over the counter. Mr Cake turned back to Anon. "You got the look of a guy who gets plenty of boners!"

Anon bounced his head a little. "Yeah, that sounds about right. So what now?"

Mr Cake stoked his chin. "Well, you're not on the nut or anything, right? Good with rent?"

"I got enough clams to clam the feller up," Anon answered.

"Right then, go about your day! Have some fun and all that! Just be sure to show up at 12 in the afternoon next week, and Diana will show you the ropes," Mr Cake said, standing up. 

Anon stood up and shook Mr Cake's hand. "Thank you for this opportunity sir, you will not regret it." He picked up his bag and headed out.

Anon walked down the street with a spring in his step. He was so happy, he decided he would go to Revere Beach, make a day of it. He didn't own a tank suit, but he wasn't really afraid of getting wet.	




Anon whistled as he walked across the sand, watching people splash around. He soon turned his attention to a rather large group of old ladies hassling a group of girls. He frowned, noticing the old women were wearing old fashioned swim suits. "Oh, would you look at that. Another protest from the faithful to be more decent." A grin grew across his face. "Old and slow? This could be fun."

Anon made his way over, listening in onto the conversation. "You miserable hussies!" "You outta be ashamed of yourselves, dressed like that!" "Have you forgotten the path to god?"

Anon walked up to a woman in a large white dress and a parasol, who simply stood watching. "So what are the good christian ladies trying to ban this time?"

"Ah. It is strange, monsieur. I thought Americans were fine with your swimwear? But then these madams came, and seemed to think the clothes were inappropriate for the mademoiselle. It is a bit confusing, as it seems to be very similar to what the boys are wearing." the lady explained with a french accent.

"First time in Boston?" Anon asked.

"First time in America. I understand you have all alcohols banned?"

'Yup. But if you wanna go drinking, first round is on me. Drinks banned in France too?" Anon asked, starting to rummage through his bag.

"Only absinthe. That, and abortion." The lady raised an eyebrow as Anon handed her a rolled up poster.

"What's absanth?" Anon asked, pulling out thin pieces of wire, and two flat pieces of wood.

"I believe its cheaply made alcohol, mass produced. However, it tends to make people go..." She hesitated. 

"Silly?" Anon asked, putting together a frame from the wire. 

"Murderous."

Anon paused, staring up at the lady. "Okay, I see why they banned that in France." He stood up, and reached for the poster. "Wanna have a good laugh?" he asked, unrolling the poster and fitting it into the frame.

"Monsieur, that's a woman in lingerie!" the lady said in surprise.

"Actually," Anon said, planting the frame into the sand. "It's the bathing suit of the future!"

The two groups of women overheard, turning to face Anon.

"What in Gods holy name is that!?" The old women seemed like they couldn't believe what they were seeing.

"Oh, its just Anon," one of the younger women said. "He's all wet, that one."

"Ladies, you got no idea how wet I am." Anon stood straight. "Right then, I imagine you all had very mixed emotions when I presented this art piece. Correct?" The old screamed obscenities as him, while the others nodded. One woman took a picture, whilst others on the beach started noticing. "Make sure to keep the little ones away!" Anon shouted at those starting to approach.

"Right, so this bathing suit is the best swimming technology can offer, and comfortable. The idea is still a one piece, but far more body tight, and made of rubber so the water just slides right off, and you aren't feeling wet and heavy." Anon looked pleased with himself. "And it's still appropriate, right up to the neck! and if that's too revealing..." Anon slapped over a second poster. "A full body design! Reaches the neck, the ankles, the wrists!"

"Huh. Those aren't so bad." The french woman tilted her head as she looked at them.

"This is Anon we're looking at. Just wait for it." The crowd seemed to be anticipating something.

"And if that's too confining, BEHOLD!" He slapped down a third poster. "The two piece!" The old folk let out a screech, bursting into rants. Anon was pretty sure he saw one of them faint. The younger started laughing, and the crowd around let out a gasp.

"Ooh!" The french lady took a closer look. "It shows the stomach well!" She turned to face Anon. "You seem like... how do you say? Quite the character!"

One of the laughing ladies glanced behind her, before sharply turning to Anon. "Anon, you gotta scram! They called the fuzz!"

Anon made no hesitation, ripping out the frame and shoving it into his back, his hand brushing across the crown. He took off running in the sand. The sound of a whistle cut sharply through the air. "Well ladies, I'll see you soon!" he said, kicking up sand as he ran. 

The french woman watched for a moment as the crowd of cops chased after Anon. She narrowed her eyes, lifted the hem of her dress, and took off bounding after Anon. A cop put on the speed, leaning far forward as he jumped to tackle Anon. Mid air, he was rammed to the side by the lady. Anon gave a surprised laugh as he quickly ducked under a swinging baton. A cop rode a bike and rushed out in front of Anon. Anon quickly pushed the cop down and jumped over him like a game of leapfrog. Several cops started to try tackling him in rapid secession. Anon quickly ducked, sidestepped, and danced through the crowd, ending up with him dancing with a cop. He and the cop danced cheerfully for a moment, before the cop frowned and threw a punch at Anon. Anon stumbled back, and rammed his head against the cops, causing both to let out a grunt of pain. The lady quickly grabbed Anon pulling him further down the street. Eventually, the cops lost interest and let the two run off down the distance.

"Good lord, I think Adam's finally found a chick as crazy as he is," one of the cops said, panting heavily. 

Another cricked his neck. "Well, God help us all," he said, nonchalantly. "Drinks are on me, everyone."

"Think she'll make have a few boners like Adam's?" one asked.

"Please! Knowing our luck, those two together will make the biggest boners this city's ever seen!"





Anon and the lady rushed down the street in a mad rush. Anon quickly ducked down an alleyway, dragging the lady with him. The two leaned against the alleyway walls opposite of each other, simply panting for a few moments. After catching his breath, Anon spoke. "What in the goldarn frick is wrong with you?" he asked, laughing.

The lady let out a giggle, standing straight. She extended a hand. "Dames Blanche. And you?"

Anon shook her hand. "Adam. Some call me Anon," he said. "It's a pleasure meeting you, Miss Blosh. But seriously, why? Why help me out?"

"Oh Monsieur Anon, I was thinking to myself, if this man is arrested, I will not see him again. So then I thought, 'Dames, you must go after that man!' And so I went, smashing into the officier!" She slammed her fist into her palm. "And so here I am now, asking if mayhap Monsieur would like to chat, take a moonlit stroll. Maybe even go to your apartment and view some more of your fantastic photography!"

Anon let out a cough. "That's awful forward of you, don't you think?" he asked, looking around bashfully.

"Forward?" Dames asked, confused. Her eyes widened. "Oh no, not like that! I simply found your photos fascinante and I-" She stopped, taking a deep breath. "Allow me to start over."

"By all means!" Anon said, pulling a crate over. It scraped oddly across the ground with a slight dink. He sat down on it quickly.

"*Ahem* You, Monsieur Anon... You are something I can only describe as... Wonderful. Not many seem to know you, but those who do know you as something of chaos. And this life is so dreary, so dreadful. And so when the mademoiselles spoke of you, I could only hope to meet you. And you proved just as exciting as I imagine. To not keep in touch would be a missed opportunity for excitement!" Her face seemed to gleam with excitement. "En plus, je te trouve mignon," she said with a giggle.

Anon stood up and hugged Dames, much to her surprise. "I dare say that's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me." He released her, before pulling out a piece of paper. "Alright, I'm very busy today. So I'll give you my address. keep in mind, there are two whores living in my apartment complex. But Mr and Mrs Croumer are generally very nice. Try to ignore the Alderman brothers, he's a bluenose." Anon handed Dames the paper. "I'll see you tomorrow, but we should probably keep moving so the cops don't find us." 

"Of course," Dames nodded.

Anon sat down on the box. "I'm just gonna catch my breath a little more. You go on without me."

Dames smiled, and bent down. She gave Anon a kiss on the cheek, before standing back up. "I will visit you tomorrow afternoon. I will bring along my camera." She walked out the alleyway and headed down the street.

Anon watched her go walking away, before shooting up and removing the box lid. His eyes widened as he saw amber liquid in clear jugs. "Is that white lightning?" He opened one, and took a sip. "It's better than white lightning. It's whisky." He noticed a thick leather wallet. He picked it up, revealing dozens of twenty dollar bills.

Anon pulled out his crown. I randomly find you, tossed away. And suddenly, I found a girl as crazy as me, landed a job that wants weird, and found hundreds of dollars and quality whisky in JUGS! I am not selling you, you're my goddaym good luck charm! Anon shoved the crown away, before noticing some instructions written on a piece of paper in the wallet. "What's this?"


Meet in Hockomock. Transport. This is an advance. You'll get the rest when the job is done.


The paper had scribbles, that seemed to be references to the landscape. Anon frowned. He didn't know Hockomock that well, and it was far away. He could either take the money and alcohol, or try his luck and take an even bigger score. He pulled out his crown for a moment. "What do you think?" he asked. "Train to Canton, or money now?"

A faint image of a toy train with bright colors floated through his mind. He nodded, taking a single $20. He copied the map in his notepad, set the wallet back in, and headed off. "With my trusty knife, nothing can go wrong!"
***
**
*

"Okay. To be honest, I don't really know what I was thinking," Anon said as he tromped through the swamp. Night had fallen, making it very difficult to see. The only comfort was a full moon guiding him. Anon frowned, staring at the map. "I mayyyy be lost." Anon felt his feet walk on stone. Flat stone. He stared down, and saw under the water was a stone step. "Oh!" He followed the steps and walked onto a flooded pavilion. 

Anon looked around the area. It was large and spacious, with several stone pillars reaching for the sky, covered up in centuries of vines, moss and leaves. Pavilions dotted it, with an uneasy feeling in the air. A feeling of wrongness. "Wooow. This place is old." He saw an altar in the center, with a briefcase on it. "Huh." Anon slowly walked forward, holding his knife tight. Twas a nice knife. A switchblade he got off some other bootlegger."I guess I got here early. All I gotta do is grab it and run."

Anon approached the altar. The air felt smothered and cold. The closer he got, the stronger a slight breeze grew, sounding like whispers. Anon reached forth and unlatched the briefcase. "Alright, let's have a lookSEE!" A hand reached out and grabbed him by the neck.

Anon was thrown back, sprawling across the stone. He let out a groan, trying to find his assailant. He caught sight of a robed figure. The black robe had red and white along the edges, and in his hand he carried a strange danger. Anon quickly rolled out of the way as the robed man stomped down. "Jesus!" Anon quickly pushed himself up, scrambling to avoid another swipe. He glared, making a quick thrust at the man. The man simply took a step back, the robes gently swaying. Anon swung again. The man moved up and made a strong slice, cutting through Anon's right coat sleeve. Anon quickly yanked his arm back. His eyes widened, seeing it was bleeding. He narrowed his eyes, letting out a growl. He quickly stepped forward, stabbing at the man's right hand. The man stepped left. Anon swiped towards the face. The man leaned back with a quick step. Anon let out a shout, swinging at the man's right, before changing and stabbing at his left. The man blocked with his left arm, a soft tearing sounding softly.

The two quickly backed away from each other. Anon's breath was heavy, while the robed man seemed no worse for the wear, with only a torn sleeve. Anon stared at the tear, before staring at his bleeding right arm. If it was taken out, he'd lose the fight. He looked at the man's arm and raised his left, mimicking how the man held it. A slight chuckle was heard, muffled under the robes. Anon held his arm like a boxer, ready for a swing. He frowned, changing it so it was life he held a shield. No, too awkward. Anon moved it back to Boxer, ready to throw a hook or take a blow. The two nodded at each other, and approached each other slowly.

The two slowly circled each other, gradually getting faster. Anon stepped up, making a quick cut along the sleeve. He grunted as he got a cut in return. Anon stepped back, and the two continued to circle, each watching for an opening. Anon could see how visible he was. How vulnerable. The man's robe acted as cover, hiding just where the man's arms and body were. The man leaped forward with a wide swing. Anon quickly sidestepped him, and ripped off the left sleeve with a strong yank. The two quickly moved away from one another. Anon quickly rushed forward, rapidly and blindly slashing at the man. The man did the same, the two cutting away. Anon quickly stabbed for the man's face, only to be intercepted by his dagger. The two blades slowly ground against each other, each person trying to shove their blade closer to the other. Both let out a grunt, with Anon and the man  punching each other's faces. Both stumbled away, panting heavily.

Anon could feel nothing but the cold air. The wind had picked up, making the area feel as though they had an audience of hundreds of whispering people. Anon stared at his handiwork, and frowned. He tried to cut away the man's robes, to get a better target. But even as the robe was shredded to ribbons, the shadows of night hid him all the same. Anon took a moment to inspect himself. Torn sleeves, bleeding right arm... Anon was pretty sure his left arm shouldn't be bleeding so much. This is bad. This guy knows how to knife fight better than me! Anon knew he either had to call it quits, or end it quick. He stared at the briefcase, and saw the man was standing in front of the altar, blocking it. Anon blinked. He had an idea. Every time I make a large attack, he simply blocks it and moves out of the way. I think I can abuse that. He readjusted his hat, and moved in.

Anon and the robed man slowly approached. Anon saw the man starting to circle, and moved the other way, forcing him into a straight line. Anon tensed his arm, making obvious that he would swing. He saw the man's arm tense for the attack. Anon quickly threw his head, causing his hat to fly at the man. He caught it with his left. The man's arm was out of the way. Anon followed up with throwing his knife. Wouldn't even do any damage, but enough to distract. The man's arm swung wildly to block it. Anon rammed into the man, having closed the distance. He carried the man and slammed him into the stone altar, knocking the breath out of the man. The wind seemed to roar. He kicked at the man's leg, causing the robed figure to slide down. The man fought back, trying to stand. Anon grabbed the robes and bunched them tightly, pinning the man's arms somewhat. He stomped on the man's leg, before slamming him against the altar again. He slammed his knee against the man's chin, before punching rapidly. The man dropped his dagger. Anon snapped it up, screaming as he slashed away at the man, stabbing with wild abandon. Eventually, Anon realized the man was dead.

Anon slowly got up, panting heavily. The wind had quieted, or maybe he couldn't hear it over the sound of his heart going a thousand miles a minute. He grinned, before letting out a hearty laugh. "Oh HELL yeah!" he shouted, pumping a fist in the air. He shoved the body to the side, and flipped the latches to the briefcase. He opened it. Inside sat a large crystal orb. It was pitch black, with a slight green glow. "A gem? I was expecting cash!" Anon shrugged, picking up the item to examine it in the moonlight.

Pain. Why is there so much pain? The moment Anon touched the orb, he started screaming. An inky blackness sprung from the orb, covering and wrapping around his hand like a demented spider. He seemed to be moving a thousand miles, wind howling and swirling around him. He saw the sky burning, and castles exploded. He saw a machine like a giant bird roaring as it took off to the skies. Men in robes of all colors hacking away at a slaughtered lamb. He could see the heavily armed bootleggers just a few miles north, waiting for their business partners. He saw the box of cash being delivered by a black man named Charles. I saw thousands of things. Too fast. Too quickly. Past, present, and a horrible yet wonderful future, with all things growing dark. A colossal beast of green, praising something far more terrible than itself. A man dressed in yellow, holding a star in his hands. A lady of black, leading a bloody revolution. But worst of all, I could feel it. An inky blackness flowing through my veins, like a parasite. Worming inside of me, trying to reach everywhere. Please. Help. Anyone. Anything. I- I can hear something! I could hear something calling. Something massive. Something maddening. Something wrong...  And yet, he heard something else. Like a kind whisper, or the scent of warm freshly baked cookies. He reached for it. Closer. Closer. Reaching out with his fingers...

Anon's hand wrapped around the crown. The effects were nearly instantaneous. Rainbows burst from the crown, flaking away the darkness. It seeped into him like a mothers warm embrace, delicately removing the parasite like a splinter. New visions filled his head, combating those of madness. Visions of brightly colored ponies. Of drakes wrestling in lava. He could see the stars move to the whim of something kind, yet powerful. But underneath it all, he could see something foul. The same inky darkness, waiting to rise. Trying to bubble over. To drown everything in a sea of black. He saw six ponies rise up, and a pony of Shadows, standing above many pillars. A bright white slowly overtook everything, with a calming sensation, cut short by a single thought. Twitchy Tail.

Anon frowned. Twitchy wha? He let out a shriek as his leg narrowly avoided an ax slamming into the ground. He leaped backwards over the altar, swinging the dagger wildly. A roar came out of his assailant,  a giant of a man wearing tattered robes far too small for his frame. "Hey, I thought I killed you, you jerkwad!" His ear itched. Anon quickly jumped over the swing of the ax, running between the man's legs to escape. His swung the dagger, cutting the man's leg clean off. Anon rushed over to his hat and knife, returning them to their rightful place. "So sorry to do that to you, but I gotta..." His chipper tone faded as the man turned around, a red mold forming a new foot. "Well blow me down." Anon took off sprinting. He could still hear the whispers. Could still see all of those wonderful things. He shook his head. 

"Adam? What are you doing?" Anon swung his blade to the left, finding no one there. "Aren't you hungry?" He swung right. "Adam. I think maybe you might want to stop. Take a breather." Anon couldn't tell if the voice was his, or someone else. All he knew was he was close. Just a little farther.

Anon ran into a clearing full of armed men. He found he was panting heavily. "I- I I need help. There's a serial killer who fucking dragged me out here!" he said, desperation thick in his voice. "Look at what he did to my arm!" Multiple flashlights shone in Anon's face, keeping him from seeing properly. He could make out multiple cars, and a dozen silhouettes of men. 

"Put those lights away," a voice called out. A man in a suit with a thick mustache approached Anon. "Well, you certainly look like shit," he said, looking Anon up and down. "What's in the briefcase, son?"

"Severed fingers, sir. I gotta get these to the police so they can confirm that bastards victims, and they'll have cops swarming all over..." Anon trailed off, looking at cases of beer. "I guess there are some details I can omit," he said.

The man nodded, before pulling out a gun. "Yeah, go with the lesser evil, and all that bull." He examined his weapon, before pointing it at Anon. "But you can't bullshit a bullshitter."

Tingling spine. "Oh, I know that very well sir." Anon rushed and tackled the man, as an ax went flying over them, slamming into a car with enough force to knock it over. "But I wasn't bullshitting about the killer." An arrow shot threw a thugs head. Everyone rushed into action as a whole volley of arrows was unleashed. Anon let out a yelp, rushing to hide behind a crate. "Okay I swear by the good book, there was only one guy!" A multitude of robed people moved in, swinging machetes and wielding bows.

Anon could feel the hair on his neck stand. And from the looks of it, so could the boss man. "What the hell is that?" he asked, picking up his gun. That's when they heard it. The sound could only be described like a tear of paper. If paper was capable of screaming out in absolute agony. Fire burned in the sky as the sound of screams and battle grew louder. Anon slowly looked up, as he saw a pale man in a red suit slowly float down. He had no eyes. Nor any eye holes. His mouth however... His mouth was open wide, covering half of his face like an inky black void with teeth sticking out like rocks on the reefs.

"You." His words cut through the noise like a razor blade. He pointed a single finger at Anon. "You have something that belongs to me." Those around Anon seemed frozen, eyes glazed over. 

"Fuck off, fag!" Anon shouted, giving the finger.

"The hell kinda slang is that?" Boss man asked, aiming his gun upwards. Anon's crude words seemed to have knocked him out of his trance. Multiple shots fired from various people, causing the Red man to hiss.

"No idea. Learned it when visions of the future were shown to me. My particular favorite moments were 'How to speak Incel',"

Black water formed around the Red man, flowing around him like it was alive. A part of it suddenly shot out. Boss man jumped out of the way of the strange beam of water. It struck one of his men, who shriveled up like a mummy. A ball of blood formed beside them, before shooting towards the Red Man. "Focus. How do we kill this bitch?" Boss man asked, shooting at a cultist that came too close for comfort.

"First off, you asked. Second, got any explosives?"

"Explosives?" Boss man said, dragging Anon out of the way of a thrown blade. "Yeah, we got a whole box." He opened a crate, bulling out an automatic pistol. "It's in the Oilfield." He pointed at a very large and bulky car.

"Alright, just keep that guy distracted until I give the signal. The signal will be me calling that fucker out," Anon said, quickly rushing away.

"You better know what you're doing!" Boss man called after him. He aimed his gun at the Red Man. "Every gun that ain't busy, blast that fuck!" he shouted, firing.

Anon moved quickly from cover to cover, trying to keep his head down. He frowned, seeing a red mist slowly fill in the area. He knew he would have to get this done fast. Anon made his way to the back of the Oldfield, throwing open the trunk. "Jackpot." A car crushed the truck, sending Anon scrawling back. "What the hell!?" Jagged and broken metal now covered the whole truck, keeping Anon from the dynamite. He saw a hole in the side of the trunk, covered with jagged metal.

A black man in a red trenchcoat stood nearby, red mist pouring from his coat. Sunglasses covered his eyes as he shook one of the bootleggers. "WHERE IS THAT TRANS BITCH!?" he roared, ripping off the man's arm. 

"Ah, fuck." Anon looked at his torn sleeves and groaned. He tried to put his hand through the whole, and growled as he saw it was too small. A light bulb shone above his head, giving a moment of brief light. He climbed on the wreck of the second car and quickly searched for any tools. He glanced back at a curious sight.

Cultists had suddenly stopped fighting the bootleggers, and were trying to kill the man in the red trench coat. The one floating in the sky slowly descended, a look of rage directed towards the strange newcomer. "Baskerville Random. I trust you have a good reason for stepping into my domain?" he asked, his voice dripping with ice.

"The parasite's moved, Chance," Baskerville growled. "Oh sorry, or should I be calling you Random chance? It's not like you actually check up on the big man."

"Tell me what parasite, then go bugger off somewhere," Chance said, looking sternly. His cultists turned their attention back to the bootleggers.

"HA! I KNEW IT! If you actually let me in , I could have filled you in on-" His ears morphed into horse ears, twitching rapidly. They turned towards the sound of rending metal. He slowly turned, staring dead at Anon, who was widening the hole the dynamite was in. Shit. He grinned, massive flat teeth shining in the firelight. Shit shit shit!

Anon tossed aside his crowbar, quickly shoving his hand in the hole. "Wait a minute. That's the thief," Chance said. A beam of watery ink slammed around an invisible barrier around Anon. A rainbow slightly shimmered in the air.

Anon's fingers brushed against a stick. He narrowed his eyes. Just... a little... more... "Well you know what they say. If brains don't work, use brawn!" Baskerville tore off a car door and ripped it in half.  He held up the door, admiring its new jagged edge. He started rushing towards Anon, a wild grin across his face. "Come here, slut!"

"Hey gongoozler! Another step closer and I'll break this weird black orb!" Anon shouted, picking up a gun and holding it to the orb. Baskerville screeched to a halt, a furious expression across his face. He turned back to look at Chance, as if asking what to do.

Random Chance said nothing, opening his mouth wide. Black solid tendrils poured out and slammed into the ground, propelling forward as he let out an ungodly screech. Baskerville laughed, rushing alongside him. 

Anon shoved the orb through the hole. Twitchy tail. Anon leaped to the side, narrowly avoiding the jagged door cutting off his head. He rolled along the ground, falling prone. "Holy hell!" He turned and saw the two were right on him. Anon raised the gun, taking aim. "Witness your greatest boner, you boob! For I have the bulge!" He pulled the trigger.

Rarely have I ever thought of death. I always heard your whole life flashes before your eyes. Right now, I'm just seeing eternity. I won't lie, I had a good run. Made some friends, killed some enemies... Mainly pissed people off. Do I any regrets?... Nah. Oh, I can actually feel the heat of- Anon saw a blinding flash, before feeling himself yanked into a swirling void. He flailed his arms wildly, before feeling himself grabbed by Chance.

"YOU FOOL!" Random Chance's flesh was flaking away, leaving a trail in the air as they pummeled through the screaming nothing. "YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST RUN!?" He hit Anon with a clawed hand that shattered on impact. He let out a wailing sob like a room full of morning people. "I LEAVE YOU WITH A CURSE! MAY YOU HUNGER FOR THE FLESH OF YOUR OWN!" he hissed, his voice sending like hundreds. "No. No I won't leave you with a curse. I'LL LEAVE YOU DEAD!" He pulled out a dagger with his other hand, only for Anon to be tugged away into a cloud of red.

"Hello whore." A fist slammed into Anon's face.

"Breeze off before you get bumped off!" Anon shouted, swinging a fist. A brown hand latched on, as a white hand latched on his leg. "Ah horse feathers."

"Tell you what slut. You love riding so much, I'll give you the perfect new form." Baskerville said, tugged Anon towards him.

"Leave me alone! You got the wrong man!" Anon shouted, trying to pull away. A strong pull tugged him downwards, making Anon give out a shout of pain.

"I'll drain every last drop of blood from your worthless vessel!" Chance said, tugging Anon down. "Let go of him!" he shouted at Baskerville.

"No, you let go of him!" Baskerville shouted back. The two tugged back and forth, hissing and howling at each other, before a white hand yanked Anon away, dragging him into an orange mist. "You ass, he was mine!"

Chance stared after him. "That wasn't me, brother." he said, holding out his hand. A black mist formed around it. "That's a new thief."



 

Something snapped. I... I don't know what happened, but it feels like... Like you have an elastic cord. Or a taunt tether holding you up. And two trucks are attached at each end. The trucks are pulling this cord. It's pulled until both cars are creaming, and the cord is stretched far more than it was ever intended to be pulled. Then suddenly, it snaps. It snaps both ends just go hurtling away from each other.

Anon let out a groan, slowly standing up. He let out a shout, falling back down. "Ow..." Anon laid on his back, staring up at a dirt ceiling. He frowned, slowly sitting up. "Wha- my legs!" Anon's eyes shot open. "My voice! Why do I sound like a kid!?" My legs are green! And furry! Why do I have furry green legs? Why do I sound- Where is my dick? Anon slowly reached down in disbelief, halting upon seeing a lack of hands. "Am... Am I a filly!?" Anon looked around, for anything reflective.

Anon slowly rose on four legs, wobbling slightly. She took a moment to examine her surroundings. She was in a dirt cell, that was dimly light by a torch across the hall. There was a bedroll on the ground, and a bucket of dirty water. Anon wasn't certain if it was to drink from, or do business in with how dirty it was. Anon took a step forward, and fell on her face. "Ow."

Anon let out a sigh. "Well, I might not know what's going on... But I guess I'm stuck for the ride." Anon frowned. "Oh that boob!" she said, coming to a realization. "That guy in the coat mistook me for a Dicker man, and turned me into a whorse!" Anon chuckled. "I guess from demon humor, that is actually kinda funny." Anon slowly stood back up. "Well, I guess I better try walking. Nothing else to do right now." Anon took a careful step forward. "I guess I'll be late for that date."





Anon let out a cough, his eyes staring up at a ceiling of branches and stars. He slowly rose to his feet. He saw the bodies of both cultists and bootleggers alike. Anon slowly stumbled towards a case of whisky, picking it up. He set it in a car, and noticed a man pointing a gun at him. He raised his own gun, the two simply staring at each other for a minute. The man on the ground dropped his gun with a grunt. Anon slowly lowered his gun, putting it in his coat pocket. He saw a brown leather bag, with cash poking out of it. He picked it up and put it in the passenger seat. He started the car, staring for a moment at his crown, before driving off into the dark.

Diana woke with a start, her pink night cap's cotton ball bouncing. "I didn't even start working on a 'Welcome to Work in just a Week, New Guy!' party!" she said, horrified. "I outta check up on him and ask what kinda cake he likes." With that, she plopped back down, the bounce of her weight somehow causing her blankets to land back over her.
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CHAPTER @ IS DONE! Good blimey I did not expect this chapter to be so long. I was trying for 3000.
Questions? Concerns? Thoughts and opinions on ANYTHING and EVERYTHING? PLEASE let me know. This is my first time making such a story, so feedback and criticism is very welcome.