Anonymous and The Friendly Fire Folk

Anon laid on his lawn, not daring to move after what he’d felt himself roll over into, but soon he began to notice something strange about the consistency of what was beneath him.

“The hell?” He grumbled, still in pain. Reaching behind him and grabbing the strangely sticky but chunky substance on his back and bringing it into his vision he saw the crushed and juicy insides of what appeared to be a blood peach.

“What?”

Seven days later…

Anon crouched on his porch, eyes intently focused on the valley of coarse dirt in front of him. His laser-like vision trained as though his sight alone could cause a miracle to happen. His right hand rested on his knee, and in his left he held a glass bottle. The blood red liquid within it boiled and bubbled endlessly. Blinking, Anon let out a sigh. He brought the bottle up to his lips and tipped it back, the strange drink reacting all the more violently as it passed his lips. He swallowed and sighed once more, a thick black smoke exiting his mouth and nose as he did.

“So it was like, a foal? You got summoned by a foal?” Anon groaned with effort as he stood up, finally breaking his gaze from the plant pot, he turned to Dinny who was sitting on the top stair of his porch staring over the lawn and into the distance.

“Yep, a tiny unicorn. Somewhere around Maze’s age.” Dinny’s brow furrowed, nursing his own bottle in his hooves. He turned his head slightly, gazing up at Anon out of the corner of his eye.

“I’ve never heard of something like that happening before…” He said, a slightly worrisome edge to his voice. Anon shrugged.

“I’m sure it’s happened once or twice before. Guys down at the lab have been going nuts over the last few days since I brought in the layout for the circle she used on me. But yes, it could be a bad sign.” Dinny took a swig of his drink, a similar black cloud leaving his lips as he exhaled.

“How bad?”

“Well it could be one or two things.” Anon walked over, dropping down onto the stair next to Dinny and letting his legs rest. “Either this is a fluke, this kid happened to be from a wealthy family who also happened to have enough information on summoning for her to perform her own ritual…” Anon paused, a stonelike frown covering his features.

“Or?”

“Or they’re advancing, just like all civilizations eventually do if they don’t die off. Information becomes more and more accessible. Education and increases in efficiency lead to greater equality among creatures.”

“And foals learn how to summon demons.” Anon couldn’t help but chuckle at Dinny’s comment.

“Yes! Foals start summoning demons, it’s raining tacos, and there’s free ice cream at Ben and Jerry’s!” Dinny didn’t look amused, even after all the years he’d known the man, there were still things he could say or do that made no sense to the incubus.

“It sounds pretty serious…”

“Means I’m gonna be getting a lot of time and a half, whether I want it or not.” Anon grumbled. The two sat there in silence for a few minutes, looking over the small cul de sac they both lived in. It was peaceful, the only real nuisances were the occasional splotches on the road caused by the magma that sometimes fell from the molten ceiling of Tartarus high above. Dinny took a long sip of his drink, finishing off the last third before setting the empty bottle between his hind legs.

“What about the cults?” Dinny asked. Anon finally cracked a small smile.

“That’s some of the only good news. Three years, 7 months, and not a single disappearance!” The cults, they were usually groups of pony fanatics that were sworn to destroy any and all demons. A leader would perform a summoning while the followers gathered around the circle, usually brandishing silver tipped spears. They perform the summoning, and it’s lights out. It can be a very sudden and painful end for a demon. The few who managed to make it back from such situations only did so with extraordinary wit and quick actions. In fact, one of the first known breakings of a summoning circle was done by a demon in such a situation. Overall it’s a horrific thing, but it’s also the reason Anon did what he did. “Saying that better not jinx me…” Dinny gave a sad grin.

“Honestly the second you said that I expected you to poof away.” Anon laughed.

“Yeah, a child living in some fancy house knows my name, next week I become a human shish kabob.” Anon noticed Dinny looking down in deep thought. “Look, I know it must be difficult to think about, but you know I wouldn’t sugar coat these things for you.” Dinny nodded slowly.

“Yeah I know, it’s just… Well, I have Maze and Wyz now. It’s not really about me anymore, and it’s not like the old days when we didn’t really have to think about the risks we took.” Anon placed his arm around Dinny’s neck, feeling the soft pink fur as he pet the incubus’s shoulder.

“Having family and loved ones is still a new and foreign concept to demons, relatively speaking. The way that you feel right now, it means you’re doing the right thing.”

“Does it ever stop?” Dinny asked, looking up at Anon hopefully.

“You should hope it doesn’t, at least not completely.”

“And what do I do if one of them does get summoned?” Anon gave a soft smile.

“There’s always a way to break a circle… Always.”

Two months later…

The ripe flesh and internal juices sizzled and popped as it pressed into the hot iron, the noises it made were not unlike the angry wails of fleeting lost souls. When the skin began to dry, sizzling hot oil was repeatedly raked on top of it, generating a slew of unholy sounds. As it shifted around violently, the scorching heat unceasing, the scalding iron’s burn only abating slightly to the repeated drenches of boiling oil. Anon smiled demonically, raising his arm with knife in hand he thrust downward skewering his prey cleanly through the center.

Moving the cooked sausage over to the baking tin, he gingerly placed it on top of the pile of onions and peppers, all varying colors of red of course. Grabbing the tin he walked over to the oven, using his free hand to open the door Anon quickly shoved the food in before slamming it tight. Punching a few quick numbers on the panel above, the telltale beep and pale light that shown through the glass panel told him he was done, for now.

“GOD I love sausage and peppers!” Anon said to himself enthusiastically.

Today was the day.

And Anon was ready for it.

Today was the day that the whole neighborhood got together for a potluck, and they were going to love his great grand uncle’s second cousin’s sister’s brother’s sausage and peppers recipe that he created when working as a watchman in German occupied Poland! But that wasn’t what was important no-no-no! Today was The Day of Black Rain, and while it doesn’t rain in Tartarus, and Prince wasn’t around to make a new hit album, it did indeed rain black. For some unknown reason in this region, millions of little smooth droplets of obsidian would fall from the molten ceiling on this day of the year. Back in the past some brilliant demon then must have pointed his hoof, claw, tentacle, or whatever it was to the sky and said “Hey, it’s black rain.” Thusly, the holiday was founded.

But there was something even more special about this day, besides getting off of work and eating good food. There was something rare that could only be found today and Anon wanted, no, NEEDED it. It was something so unique and irreplaceable that he knew failure was not an option.

Having finished setting the oven, Anon walked into his living room.

The room was very cozy and presentable, almost as though it was taken out of a home decor magazine and a red filter was slapped over it. Large and small cushy reclining couches sat with ornate end tables at their sides, a coffee table with carved legs sat in the center, and a nice seventy inch whopper rested on a large entertainment cabinet. But what was the most eye catching about the room was what sat back behind the couches.

A massive display case was hung on the wall, nearly spanning the entire surface. It was comprised of an almost countless number of small square compartments each with a seamless glass door and a black felt interior. Obviously, the compartments weren’t countless and Anon knew exactly how many there were.

One thousand compartments…

And nine hundred and ninety nine were filled.

Anon walked closer to the display, weaving his way behind the couch carefully as to not trip or knock anything over. He gazed into the various boxes before his eyes suddenly locked on one, reaching up and carefully opening the door, he slipped his fingers in and brought the object out into his hand, studying it closely.

It looked, at first glance, like a large marble. But a blue and black liquid seemed to shimmer and swirl inside the orb like a torrent of oily ocean water, that is, if the water was sapphires and the oil opal. It gave off a slight chill as it rested in his hand. It was a stunning stone, seemingly alive and yet solid. It was the kind of stone you would put diamonds and sapphires around to accentuate IT. Women would war over it the way men would war over women! People would consign their souls to have something of such magnificence to wear, even if only for just a day.

And Anon had nine hundred and ninety nine of them, and each was unique to the year that it fell.

This was the prize Anon was after, a spirit eye. A form of extremely rare raindrop that would only fall on the day of black rain. The eye had no real practical use, but they did always have some sort of minor elemental aspect to them. Legend says that the spheres are the eyes of demons of past, gazing over their ancestors or some malarky. For Anon, he just thought they were pretty.

Also he spent a month’s salary on the display case.

He smiled to himself, hand wrapping around the stone.

“Alright, today’s the day Anon. Are you ready?” He asked himself.

“Yeah I’m ready!”

“Are you ready to do whatever it takes to get this year’s spirit eye, including but not limited to assault, murder, or even genocide!”

“YEAH!!! BUT THE GENOCIDE WON’T BE FOR RACIST SHIT CUZ I AIN’T BASIC LIKE THAT! I JUST WANT MY DAMN STONE!!!”

“You’re gonna get that stone! You’re gonna finish this display! And we’re gonna sit with a warm cup of cocoa, facing away from the display for most of the day, watching romantic drama’s until we cry ourselves to sleep!”

“YEA~ wait whu?”

“...”

“GET PUMPED!”

“YEAAAAH!!!”

Anon was snapped out of his ~~crazy talk~~ motivational speech by the obnoxious beeping of the oven timer going off in the other room. Gently, he placed the stone in his hand back into the display and shut the door before quickly making his way back to the kitchen.

“How long was I standing there?” He questioned as he slipped on some pink oven mitts and removed his dish from the grate before setting it on the counter. The scent of spiced meat and fresh veggies hit his nose like a line of coke, immediately causing his mouth to salivate. Anon swallowed back the saliva, knowing that it wasn’t yet time to eat. Speaking of time, Anon looked over at clock hanging on an open wall.

“Oh shit!” He cursed himself. Mittens still on, Anon quickly grabbed the tin and began making his way to the front door. Reaching the door he carefully balanced the plate in one hand while he undid the locks with the other, the glove making it feel like he was an astronaut performing maintenance during a spacewalk. After minutes of struggling he finally undid the lock, quickly throwing the door open and gripping the hot tin with both hands once more he stepped out onto his porch, and immediately turned his head to the left.

A small sapling peaked out of the large plant pot that sat on his porch, the few leaves the twig had were shiny like bronze, and shimmered spectacularly in the slightest breeze. Anon smiled. Turning his head back forward he took in the sights and sounds that few days of the year could offer.

The dead end of the cul de sac was abuzz with activity. A long set of tables had been placed to one side of the road. They were covered with orange and black patterned cloths and loaded with foods from the neighbors. A few round tables with chairs had been set up as well, providing spaces for all the folk to sit and eat as they please. Lastly, in various spots along the sidewalk and in some of the neighbors yards games were set up. They were the typical neighborhood get together fare, like cornhole, hopscotch, and don’t drown for the apple, which was basically bobbing for apples but with a moral to the name. There were already a number of his neighbors walking about, eating food, and seemingly enjoying themselves.

and Anon was late...

Anon was never late to a social event.

How else was he supposed to maintain his standing as a pillar of the community if he was late.

He contemplated turning around and going back inside where he’d gorge himself on sausage and peppers and watch romantic dramas until he cried himself to sleep.

“HEY ANON, OVER HERE!” and thusly dreams were shattered like a 40 cal to a tempered sheet of glass.

Looking across the road he spotted Dinny waving a hoof from one of the tables. His wife, who Anon knew well, sat next to him looking over. They looked surprisingly similar to one another. Granted, and while he would never say this to a any succubus or incubus themselves, they all looked alike. The only difference between the two was the general stallion vs mare physique. They both had black manes and tails, though Wyz’s was longer and her mane curled slightly at the end, and they both had the same pink coats and brown eyes. A few of these things would vary when it came to incubus and succubus in general but far too often if one was facing away from you it would be near impossible to tell them apart.

Anon gave his friend an awkward wave of his mittened hand. His chances of escape now over, he descended the steps of his porch and began walking into the mayhem that was the Distil Road potluck.

As he walked, he saw the various demons that occupied the houses of his street and recognized many of them, knowing most by name. He spotted the Gazgath family sitting at one of the tables, the parents eating quietly with their three kids and chatting. They were Pazuzu. Essentially diamond dogs with horns and two sets of wings. There was Diglen the Glabrezu, who lived alone like Anon. Sort of looked like a large wolf mixed with a crab. Yes, he looks exactly like whatever you are imagining right now. He was cool. Lastly he spotted the Ozath’s, the husband and wife Bulezue. They were just goats. Sage, the wife, was an asshole. The kind of demon who wouldn’t shut the fuck up at HOA meetings saying things like “OH, You’re tree’s growing three whole inches into my yard!” or “That trampoline doesn’t fit the aesthetic of the neighborhood. Also, why do you need a trampoline Anon?”

Fucking bitch.

Anon placed his tin down on the tables with the rest of the food, and grabbed a plate to fill with some of the other dishes folks brought. Wanting to make his way over quickly to the ~~the warm embrace~~ the social safety of his good friend Dinny and his wife, he loaded his plate at a hurried pace, ensuring he didn’t spill anything as he quickly scooped his fill. Suddenly, Anon felt a hoof slowly snake around his shoulder, he froze.

“Helloooo Anonymous! Nis-s-s-s-e to s-s-see you out and about.” Anon tried not to flinch as a forked tongue tickled the back of his left ear. A frown quickly overtook his features.

“Hello… Dala.” He drawled. He felt the tongue flick his ear once more, he held back a shudder as the slimy thing nearly went inside the canal.

“How many times-s-s-s to I have to tells-s-s-s you! Call me Doll, darlings-s-s.” Anon could swear she threw the extra s’s in there just to bother him. He turned his head, cold eyes meeting the seductively lidded ones of the Yaun-ti mare. “How have yous-s-s-s been?” yous? Seriously?

“I’ve been getting along. How about you? Wrapped your tail around the necks of any stallions recently?” Anon asked, keeping his voice even and low. Dalazantañ smirk broke into a smile as she let out a series of hissing giggles, forcing Anon to fight the urge to pick his ear.

“You hurt me darlings-s-s! You and I both know the best pris-s-ses are the ones you f-f-fight to earn.” She brought her head back, sliding to his other ear. “Bes-sides, while it may be fun. I would never do sssuch a thing without~” She paused. Anon felt what he could only assume to be the end of her tail wrap around his other shoulder and lightly caress the crook of his neck. “Permis-s-s-s-sion” She whispered. Okay, this was getting wierd fast. He needed an out quick before he found himself being dragged back to her house.

Everything Anon had tried to tell her in the past ended up making her come after him all the more fervently. They way he shuddered? No, not desire. Hissing and tonguing his ear tends to cause that. When he implied that she had been with other guys or should seek them out? He must be testing her resolve. Telling her he wasn’t interested outright? Definitely playing hard to get.

“People want things more when they’re told they can’t have them. It’s childish to fall victim to such base psychology.” Anon said with a hint of venom. This caused the mare to pause. Had he actually gotten through to her? She nestled her chin back into his shoulder.

“Nothing has ever been gained by thos-se without the des-sssire to get it.” Her tail wrapped fully around his neck, giving a slight squeeze. “And s-s-weet Anon… My des-s-sires-s are innn-finite.” Focusing for a moment, Anon placed his index and middle fingers together. Out of sight of the mare, a small purple flame engulfed his fingers. It was a simple spell, one he had made sure to remember after all these years. Essentially, it was a strong muscle relaxant, enough to knock out control of her tail for a few hours, but Anon didn’t want to cause a scene. What would everyone think if he did!

“Come now, I know you don’t want to caus-s-se a ssscene.” Damnit! How did she know! “Let’s go back to my plac-s-se, I have wine.” Alcohol sounded good right about now, but Anon would not be so easily swayed!

How did she know he wouldn’t want to cause a scene? Of course! She planned it all out. This was her ploy the whole time. A voice of recollection suddenly rang in the back of his head…

“Are you ready to do whatever it takes to get this year’s spirit eye, including but not limited to assault, murder, or even genocide!”

Of course! If she dragged him back to her place he'd miss the black rain and thus be unable to get his last spirit eye! Social status be damned, if he was going to get the eye he was going to have to genocide the Yaun-ti! Starting with Dalazantañ Misáriameza!

Or maybe he’d just stun her with his spell and walk away, death camps can’t be built in a day.

So it was decided, with lightning speed Anon raised his hand Anon quickly tapped her tail with his fingers. Seconds passed as he waited for the hold around his neck to slack, but it didn’t. Anon looked down at his hand.

He was still wearing his pink oven mitts.

Shit…

Dala turned, Anon choked as the muscled tial squeezed and gave a firm tug causing him to stumble into her side. Just as he was about to rip the mitts off and begin peppering the crazy bitch with spells a deep, resounding, multi-layered voice spoke up.

“Hello, Anon. Did you just arrive?” The words were slow and methodical, the resonation making it almost hypnotising to hear. Dala froze up, her grip on his neck loosening considerably. Anon turned his head to the voice. Standing behind him was Diglen, he was over two thirds of Anon’s height with piercing gunmetal eyes above a stoic grey furred muzzle. The ticking of his four rear chitinous crab-like legs on the concrete contrasted the complete silence of his front paws as he made his way closer. An orange shell covered nearly the entirety of his rear half, minus his tail, which stuck out somewhat oddly. Smaller more armor-like plates trailed up his more wolfish front half to a prominent heater shield of exoskeleton on his chest. Anon would have likely rejoiced and proclaimed Diglen his savior had he not been recovering from the Yaun-ti’s tug on his throat.

“Y-yea *ack* just tryin’ to taste the foods, ya’ know.” He said subtly massaging his neck with a gloved hand.

“You best do that then… Before it gets cold.” Diglen’s eyes turned from him to Dala as he spoke, hardening ever so slightly. The air around the Glabrezu suddenly chilled, the ambient temp that could vaporize water flipped to that of an algid tundra. Anon felt Dala shiver through her tail as she retracted it from around him. She held an intense glare towards Diglen but it faltered as another shiver racked her body.

“W-w-well, he bessst get to that t-then.” She said through a forced smile, teeth chattering slightly. Her gaze shifted back to Anon. “Until nexssst time… Anon.” A sickeningly sweet smile covered her muzzle. She tried to hold his gaze but with another shudder she turned and trotted away, front hooves clopping on the street while her tail slithered behind her. The two watched silently until she was well out of earshot. Anon turned back to Diglen.

“Before it gets cold? Really?” Anon asked with a raised eyebrow, a prominent smirk across his face. Diglen sighed, raising a paw to massage his brow.

“I… didn’t even realize it until I said it.” He looked down, embarrassed. Anon’s smile grew.

“Oh no! I think you DID mean to say that.” Diglen looked up.

“No I~”

“You know, Dala might be a little hot-headed, but Diglen, you’re cool as ice!” Diglen’s face scrunched up.

“Stop~”

“You were always good at giving ladies the cold shoulder!”

“Why! By the gods I’ll~”

“It’s no wonder you like to remain ice-olated, after all, snow place like home!”

“I-just!~”

“Diglenavan’s certainly snow-flake when when it comes to helping me out of a bad situation.” Diglen’s face continued to scrunch further and further.

“They’re getting weaker.” He said, Anon stopped, his cheshire smile waning slightly. He raised his hands, surrendering.

“Alright, alright. I’m done.” Diglen’s face relaxed slightly.

“Good, because you were walking on thin ice.”

“You mother fucker!” Anon said as he broke down laughing, he saw faintest crease of a grin play across the ever stoic wolf’s muzzle.