Afghan Anon.

>You are  Captain Anonymous.
>Plain and simple.
>Just a lowly Quartermaster officer.
>Afghanistan was fun.
>Sitting in a tent.
>Being hot as hell.
>Under constant threat of suicide bombers and RPG attacks.
>Afghanistan was fun.
>At least you had a few buffer battalions between you and the front.
>God you're a despicable human being.
>And you’re okay with it.
>Sometimes you wish you had access to Internet so you could shitpost on chan.
>Perpetuate yourself as king shitposter.
>You get up from your position behind a shitty computer the Army gave you to keep inventory.
>Which was up to date, mind you.
>You didn't get to captain at 26 from faffing about like a wankstain.
>God.
>You hate your British immigrant mother.
>AMERICA, YEAH!
>Anyway, you step out of the tent and breath in the searing hot air of Assfuck Nowhere, Afghanistan.
>You take a moment to roll your sleeves up before going off to fuck with some nearby enlisted.
>Maybe you could find the Laundry Specialist. (Yes, I’m dead serious, they have these.)
>You wander to the appropriate part of base and look around for the aforementioned personal.
>Sadly it seems like they're avoiding you.
>It's probably for the best.
>You instead choose to wander to the command tent and mess around with the Battalion commander until you had to resume duties.
>Lieutenant Colonel Incognito was a great guy.
>You were actually his cousin.
>Which is why you were assigned to this Battalion in the first place.
>Nepotism is great.
>You walk into the tent before you hear possibly one of the worst sounds a man could hear.
>”Allahu Ackbar!”
“DEUS VULT!”
>That was a reflex shout.
>And this is a car.
>You hit the car and roll over the window to the otherside.
>You were still alive, but fuck, you were in so much pain.
>You bring your trembling hand to your M9.
>You grunt in pain as you touch your most likely shattered ribcage when reaching for your sidearm.
>You draw it and chamber the Round in the magazine, flipping off the safety at the same time.
>Bringing it up to shoot at your assailant, you don't even aim as you spot the turban wearing madman level off an old AK to your BC’s face.
>Fuck.
>He was your favorite cousin.
>Fuck your other ones.
>You fire as many round out of the pistol as you can before the inevitable death of you and Nito.
>You miss every shot like the retard you are, and end up getting filled with lead instead.
>Today was counterproductive.
>Though you could cross off:Get killed in an extremely dramatic way.
>So not wholly such.
>The sudden realization that you are dead hits you like a terrorist in an armoured SUV.
>The even more sudden realization that your life, in fact, did not pass before your eyes hit you harder though.
>You kind of feel cheated.
>You wanted to find out why you had a scar just above your dick.
>A voice shakes you from your thoughts though.
>”Anonymous of the United States, most notorious action: being a quote-unquote “Master Shitposter.”
>”Where do you want him, sir?”
>”Send him to Horseland.”
“Wait, fucking what?”
>You're grabbed by both the arms and picked up facing away from your restrainer.
“Where the fuck am I going!? I was promised MEMEHALLA!”
>A hole presents itself to you, just ready to be penetrated.
>You are unceremoniously thrown straight down into it.
“It's like paratrooper training all over again!”
>The next thing you feel is hitting the ground at a one hundred eighty degree angle.
>You skid across the ground at record breaking speeds.


>You are Nightmare Moon, the all powerful conqueror of Equestria.
>Currently you are on the moon.
>You’ve mustered enough power to open a portal back to the place you were banished.
>Unfortunately, 999 years of not being able to practice magic makes you a bit rusty the first time you do it again.
>You fudged up the spell just a bit.
>It's not like you ejected a null-magic thing from another dimension.
>Not at all.
>You frown as something goes skidding across the surface of the moon and into a nearby crater.
>You, in your everlasting grace manage to sputter out something.
“What in the name of me is that?”
>You timidly poke your head over the crater to gander at whatever had the extreme unluckiness to get sacked.
>A masculine sounding voice reaches your ears as you look at what has fallen into your prison.
>”OH MY GOD. THIS FUCKING HURTS. HOLY SHIT.”
>The sharp gasping coming from the creature seems to pick up as it spots you.
>”A FUCKING UNICORN!!”
>You snort in indignation.
“I am no mere Unicorn, creature! Gaze upon my glory!”
>You spread your wings dramatically.
>”HOLY SHIT, A TALKING PEGACORN!”
>You sigh at the creatures ignorance, and apparent misuse of term.
“Pegacorn is a term used for the common rabble! Do I look like a mere commoner to you?”
>”You’re royalty!?”
>You raise your chin and indicate yes.
>”Get that shit out of here! No Gods, No kings, Only Democracy!”
>You reel back from the sheer malice in that statement.
>”Now where the hell are we, Horse?”

>You are Captain Anonymous.
>And you're full of eternal Freedom-induced, Democracy-driven rage.
>It's low key, though, so you're just seething in the name of America.
>”WE are on my domain, the Moon, you insolent wretch.”
>Your eye twitches.
“Are you trying to fuck with me?”
>”Why would I attempt coitus with an uncultured swine like you?”
>You look up and into the sky.
>It's the fucking earth.
>Your eye twitches once more.
“WHAT IN THE FLYING FUCK IS THIS?”
>You stand up, seemingly no worse for wear.
>You step forward and slowly take off your shades, looking up at the big horse all the while.
>You can see her flinch.
>You can taste the fear.
>She's ready to receive freedom.
>But it's too soon.
>”Do not come a step closer, you raving beast!”
>She stamps her foot and sends moon dust flying.
>”I’m not afraid to incinerate your very being!”
>You stop short of her.
“Fine. How do we get off this moon?”
>She looks jarred at your bipolar moodswing.
>You love fucking with normies.
>”Before you so graciously stumbled out of the portal that I was making to get back to Equestria, I was going to be their today!”
>You raise your hands out of habit and prepare to deflect your mistake onto a lower rank.
>You put your hands back down after it becomes evident that none of your subordinates were here.
“Blame the Sand Niggers!”
>”Blame the what?”
“You heard me.”
>Silence reigns over you and your host for what seems like hours.


“So, what's Equestria like?  I've never heard of it.”
>Boredom executes your malice faster than the French Revolution executed that fat, cake eating bitch.
>”It’s a place full of traitors and dreams of grandeur.”
>The corner of your mouth turns up in doubt.
“Well. That's a bit of a stark description.”
>”I suppose it is. But it would take too long to explain.”
>You squint slightly and stare the back of her head down.
“We’re on the moon, for fucks sake, what are we waiting for?”
>She sighs and turns to look at Earth/Equus below.
>”Do you want to guess why I’m here? On the moon, I mean?”
>You smile slightly under the bandana that covers your face.
“Did you steal someone's sweetroll?”
>She dares a glance back and quirks her eye before looking back at the planet that loomed before you.
>”No.”
>No sound comes from the two of you as she seemingly doesn't want to elaborate.
“Is that it? You're not going to tell me why?”
>You cross your arms to convey your seriousness.
>”I’m not a well liked Pony. That's why I’m here.”
“That's not vague at all.”
>You slowly sit down next to her, bending one knee and extending the other.
>”I did things… that nopony approved of.”
“I do those kind of things all the time, sweet cheeks.”
>She glares at you for a moment.
>”I most assuredly did something worse than you ever did or ever will.”
“Lady, I'm indirectly the cause of more than 30,000 deaths and damn well proud of most of them.”
>Her eyes widen slightly, just barely enough to notice.
>”How?”
>You scoff and respond.
“I supplied an army. A modern Crusade, really.”
>She looks sort of taken aback.
>”I do not know how many deaths I've caused.”
>You snort and flippantly reply.
“Enough to get sent to the moon.”
>You feel a small pang of regret at saying that.
>Quiet creeps over you and the rest of the desolate moon.


>You had walked away shortly after your talk with the blue horse.
>You had crossed the grey satellite in short time.
>Sitting down, you looked over your shoulder for any indicator that the pegacorn from earlier had followed you.
>Your not so keen eyes sweep the landscape for any sign of blue.
>You only spot sight of Earth at the cusp of your vision.
>You let out a defeated sigh and sit down against a large rock.
>How long were you doomed to stay on something man had only set foot on six times?
>You sat in thought, your mind swimming with ideas of crushing loneliness and despair.
>Eventually, you find yourself drifting off to sleep.
>Your dreams are surprisingly pleasant despite what's happening.