Madness of Anonymous

Chapter: 6

You board the train and present your return ticket swiftly before hurrying to an empty cart. Seating yourself on the cushioned seat, you lean back and sigh with dark contempt. You fold your arms around the back of your neck and shut your eyes in relaxation, waiting for sleep to take you into it's embrace. Which it does. Your presented with a strange yet dark vision in your slumber, as your vision slowly returns to you. You find yourself within a room with four walls and not a single door or window visible. You stand up and attempt to touch a wall only to feel stiff resistance. You stare in confusion at the straight jacket dominating your upper-body with tattered trousers covering your legs with striped slippers at the bottom of the legwear. You fling yourself around the room, only for you to encounter soft, almost loving, padding adorned across the four walls, floor and ceiling. A single solitary light bulb hangs limply from the ceiling, casting a dimming amber glow across the room. The damaged wires attached to the bulb are like a noose around it's neck as it sways in a non-existent breeze. You crumble to your knees, the padding softening the impact, and begin to whimper softly from the ever-tightening confinement. Your vision slowly decays to darkness, consciousness gradually coming ever nearer to you. And finally, you awake.

Your eyes snap open and dart around the train cart, noticing the shadows drawing closer and closer. Moonlight is your only light source as it streams in through the open windows like silver water. Darkness dances almost mockingly in the corners of your sight, figures appearing only to be figments of your rotting mind. You curl up in the cushioned seat and grab your mop of hair in vice-like hands as your heart pulses with more and more ferocity. The miniscule sound of the passing breeze caused by the train's movement is almost deafening in your silent isolation. Your breathing is guttural, low and has an ever-growing frequency as a maddened panic fills your very core. Your eyes seal shut to avoid the hallucinations you see in the darkness, visions of deformed monstrosities feeding once filling your sight no longer able to grace your eyes with their gruesome visages.  But, when you thought fear had devoured you, the sun's light finally pierced the clinging darkness. The solar rays filter through the glass windows and settle around the room, cleaning it of inky shadows. The hallucinations dissipate into thin air, but you still hear their deafening wails of agony and the crunch of bones and splatter of gore. The sunlight streaming into the carriage runs across your face, thus causing the sounds to slowly decrease in volume until they are but whispers. A sudden knock resounding around the carriage quickly dissipates the remaining volume the hallucinations had, the source of the relief being the wooden door behind you.

"Erm... are you okay, sir?" Asks a nervous voice behind you, which causes you to open your eyes and jolt up from your seat.

Before you stands a dishevelled pony stallion of brown coat and orange mane, who is currently staring at you with wide yellow eyes. You breathe a sigh of relief before lowering your arms to your sides, cracking your neck from left to right.

"Yes. I am." You reply roughly before tapping your boot on the wooden floorboards.

"Well... we're at Ponyville station now..." He says before you cut him off by leaving the carriage, trying to exit the train.

With your long gait you swiftly pass through Ponyville, trying to ignore the passing worried glance they would give you. What you didn't know was that they were worried FOR you, not worried that you would hurt them. That's what made their expressions even more pained as you began to berate them for their insolence, yelling the foulest of terms into the summer air. You storm through the town and reach your home in record time, slamming the door shut once you enter. You begin pacing the living room madly, fumbling your hands together, before groaning in frustration and falling backwards into your armchair. You put your head in your hands and stay like that for what feels to you like an eternity, just sat in near darkness as the rays of sunlight slowly decay with the coming sunset. The weight of the world, and then some, seems to sit on your shoulders as you bask in the shadows cast by the sun's dying light.

But then you remember your task given to you by Fancy Pants, causing you to grin and stand up. With quick movements, you open the door to your basement/cellar and activate the lantern on the way down the wooden steps. Locking the door behind you, you approach the workbench casts in the amber glow of the lantern above. Deposited around the room is random plates and scrap metal collected when you had some left-over metal after building your home. It was expected of you when you first arrived to live with one of the elements but you declined and worked day and night to build your own home. You didn't want to be around these ponies so much that you would sleep under their roof. Regardless, you've accumulated quite the collection of trinkets, materials and scrap. Stepping over this and that, you reach the workbench itself and take a sheet of paper out of one of it's draws. Rolling the sheet on the wooden top, you begin to sketch your designs until you reach on what calls out to you the most.

The design is very peculiar, but given the mind it came from that isn't to hard understand. The design is that of a costume which also acts as a great disguise and armour without looking too organic. The suit is to have a size slightly bigger than you due to the mechanisms which will be on the boots to give more force. The boots themselves are metal with fake black boots to cover the top but leaving the soles as metal pads which are part of the mechanism. Fake metallic claws poke out from theses fake boots to give both more grip to surfaces and for extra damage behind kicks. The legs of the suit will be made from metal plates formed from steel on your calves and thighs with the metal begin in more segmented rings near joints. This will be the last layer of protection the on your legs before something would reach your casual clothes which will go beneath the suit. Coating the suit to disguise it's true purpose is a thick layering of thick fake fur of a generally grey colouration. The crotch of the suit has even more segmented metal pieces with the same fur as the rest, but here a pair of fake light brown shorts will begin and end at a length long enough to reach the knees of the suit. The stomach and chest area have a white fur which covers thick metal segments and plates. The chest has more metal for better protection against direct hits to it, adding to the suit's purpose as an armour. Slung over the fur on the suit's chest is a thick deep brown t-shirt which will give anything who sees the suit the impression that it's truly a Diamond Dog. Adding to this illusion is the elongated canine muzzle attached to the suit's head which will act as a mask. The eyes are glossy, lenses which block sight going in but allow the suit's user to see out. The muzzle's jaw is lined with serrated metal teeth, the actual throat being an inky blacks topping anyone on the outside from seeing the user. An artificial throat is also part of the design, a metal tube leading from the muzzle down into the chest area of the suit where a metal hollow tank will sit. This will collect any matter collected for easy disposal. A few tweaks in the design are still necessary, but you can't help the look of impish delight from crossing your features as you rub your palms together devilishly.