Anon, the mighty whiteknight

>You are Morning Glory
>Homeless, filthy, useless, blank flanked, alone on the streets of Manehatten
>Most days follow one of two formulas
>Option one: Wake more tired than before going to sleep, someone hires you and humiliates you, you get something to eat, you go to sleep miserable
>Option two:No one hires you and you go to sleep with the claws of hunger tearing your insides apart
>You can't be quite sure which is worse but every day leaves you wishing for the opposite
>The sound of clattering bits snaps you out of your introspection
>Your eyes flit between the five bits now lying on the floor of your box and a stallion with a huge stupid grin looking down at you
>Looks like today is option one
> You silently thank celestia, you haven't eaten in days
"A hoofjob then?"
>y..yeah, but um could you maybe...
>His smile slips his conviction visibly wavering
>oh shit oh shit oh shit
>Yesterday and the day before that had run option two
>No way in hell are going three days without eating because he lost his nerve
>You switch on the fake enthusiasm like a light switch, time to earn those bits
"Nothing is too strange, I'll do whatever you want so long as you pay!"
>He mumbles something inaudible while averting his eyes
"Sorry I didn't catch that, what?"
>"Could you... could you talk dirty to me and call me anon while you do it"
>You blink
>You dig deep and put a bit more investment into your smile
"Sure, is that your name?"
>"Oh no way, wait you haven't heard of anon? He's famous every stallion mare and foal knows his name!"
>Evidently not but you humor him as best you can
"Oh of course -that- Anon! Sorry I totally blanked out there for a second, I'm a huge fan too!"
>Smooth save Glory, smooth save
>It was a bit odd but certainly wouldn't be the strangest request you've gotten, heck it didn't even involve a cactus
"I'm game for it, but that'll be fifteen extra bits"
>He rummages around in a saddle bag and tosses you more bits, his stupid grin slowly coming back
>Today was actually rounding out to be pretty okay
>You give him a hoofjob supplemented with an occasional cheesy line
"oh anon you're so big!"
>Stupid grin's stupid grin is practically ear to ear and he's panting
"I've always wanted to do this with you anon."
>The rod between your hooves starts to twitch and Stupid grin lets out a ragged breath
"Anon you can come wherever you want"
>You regret that last one as it pushed him over the edge and was immediately followed by a face-full of cum
>"ohjeezI'msorry, I didn't mean to..I mean it happened so fast..I mean you're so good at.."
>It was almost adorable
"Hey you paid for the full experience, that was part of it"
>You do your best to maintain a salespony's smile while wiping yourself off with a damp rag you keep in a back corner of the box for exactly this sort of thing.
>A moment of curiosity takes hold and you compromise the master ruse from one hoofjob ago.
"So who exactly is this Anon?"
>He doesn't seem to notice
>"Only the greatest hero Equestria has ever seen! He's a mighty warrior from another dimension! He's fought whole packs of timberwolves alone, defeated powerful unicorns bent on world conquest, he even beat a necromancer who had an army of over ninethousand undead!"
>He was so worked up you barely resist the urge to cover your face to guard against a repeat performance
>A full three minutes later he still won't shut up
>"Have I already mentioned he runs on two legs?"
"Yeah about seven times now."
>You honestly don't mind, his enthusiasm is a bit contagious
>Still you could only hear so many stories about a glorious white knight vanquishing a horrible threat and remain interested
>"And he always helps out the ponies he meets! He helps foals earn their cutiemarks and even sometimes volunteers on an apple farm in the tiny town of ponyville!"
>Apple farm? you're pretty sure that's just called an orchard. oh well customer is always right, you don't correct him.
>"He cares about everypony no matter who they are from the princesses in their castle to the lowest earth pony on the streets!"
>That last comment elicits a snort from you, stopping his rant of adoration right away. His face turns visibly red with embarrassment.
>"I uh...maybe I should go"
>He sprints out of your little alleyway yelling something about being sorry
>All things considered a little over five minutes work had netted you twenty whole bits
>You make your way down to the little grocer at the street corner and buy a full half dozen apples
>Excessive maybe but hunger typically wins out over sense
>Seeing your visible ribs the owner gives you one of them for free
>Amazing how generous ponies can be so long as you're paying them. Oh well no complaints about free food
>15 bits left, used carefully that could keep you fed for the rest of the week
>A traitorous thought crosses your mind and you mumble it aloud
"He cares about everypony no matter who they are from the princesses in their castle to the lowest whore on the streets"
"The train only cost 15 bits to get just about anywhere"
>Maybe if you just met him your troubles would be over.
>You feel something strange a sort of warmth rising up from your innermost being.
>It takes you a moment to identify the sensation, something you hadn't felt in a very long time
>Hope
>You stash your money between the folds of cardboard in your box, other transients might check over, under, around, and inside the box for things to take. They never check inside walls themselves
>You needed to take a walk, to figure all of this out. You set off on a loop around the block
>If Stupid Grin's stories had all been true, anon would save you, but what proof did you have? Even if everypony knew his name, no one is that perfect
"still, if he's even a tenth the pony they say he is, that would be enough."
>On the other hoof you could stay here. You would continue with your routine, wondering what little death you would die every day
>letting out a deep sigh, you notice your breath crystallizing in front of you
>You weren't nearly as healthy as you had been last winter and it looks like the weather pegasi were right on track with this year's freeze
"Seriously, fuck those assholes. Sure it may be their job, but they're still shit for doing it."
>Not only did winter hold the bitter life reaping cold, but also customers become far less frequent.
>Apparently saliva covered dick in negative 5 is very unpleasant, Go figure
>Shuddering, you remember last winter when you had stumbled on the body of another vagabond who couldn't find a safe shelter from the frozen nights.
>That memory makes the decision for you and you declare it aloud to no one in particular
"I'm not going to die, I'm going to go and meet anon and he's going to save me"
>People around you are staring now, you stop talking to yourself and sheepishly slink away
>You only have a few things other than your box, a tattered blanket, a small disposable water bottle you've been reusing for two years now, and a well worn self help book about finding your cutiemark.
>At least being homeless would make moving easy
>Rounding the corner into your alleyway your eyes settle on one of your worst fears
>The box was gone, along with the rest of the alley's trash, and of course
>Your bits
>Terror, plain and simple, An added dash of confusion, a touch of anger, and a supplement of grief
>That is, you realize, roughly what it takes to extinguish that feeling of hope you've had for the better part of a day.
>You've been absolutely terrified before and you have a way of dealing with it
>Stop moving, stop breathing, stop thinking, interrupt the flood of emotions and thoughts that come along with fear.
>Doing that, you're left with the rational part of fear at least for a moment. What you can rationalize, you can beat.
>The box was here when you left ten minutes ago, it was late in the day so it wasn't part of the city run trash removal, That leaves volunteer workers.
"Someone whose ass isn't on the line is almost never in a hurry, I might still catch them before the dump!"
>You sprint out of the alley way into the main street, all that terror and anger flooding back into you
>No need to fight it, fear and running places go hand in hand no complex thought needed.
>You run through the streets like a mare possessed, you might not be in any sort of athletic shape but you had far too much adrenaline pumping through your veins to feel the strain you're putting on your body
>Still no sign of whoever took your box, how in tartarus had they moved so fast.
>"See Applebloom I told you we could finish our run in five minutes if I pulled the cart with my scooter"
>Stopping in your tracks you turn and see three fillies wearing little red capes walking down the street away from the dump
>All it took was that one line, and you were instantly sobered of all that drive you had a moment ago
>The full extent of the pain your body had so kindly been blocking for you came rushing back, your legs wobbled, then gave out.
>Everything hurts and your head is swimming, your vision is blurred with no signs of improvement
>Upon regaining your feet your head decides to commit mutiny, the world spins and then sinks slowly into black
>You wake up to a dark sky, enough light from the city to make it appear nearly starless but not enough to see far in front of you
>Everything still hurts, your head is still spinning, your mouth feels like you've been eating cotton balls, and most of all you feel the seeping pain of cold across your whole body
>Somewhere in the core of your being you accept all of this
>Rolling on your side you wait to die letting your eyes slip shut again
>"Is this how you plan to live your final moments? No spark of resistance? No final strike against all odds?"
>Your eyes shoot open, standing before you in the shadow is a figure clad in armor that glows faintly.
>A moment later your vision focuses and you are left with an empty street
"A..anon?"
>Nothing but the faint crackle of a street lamp answers you
>A hallucination then,brought on by dehydration and fatigue combined with starting symptoms of hypothermia
>oh hey your brain was back on board with the whole teamwork thing
"He wouldn't give up, if Stupid Grin had his facts straight he's never given up even though he faces impossible odds all the time."
>Every step is agony but you compartmentalize it all, foot one forward and down, foot two forward then down, foot three forward and down, foot four forward and down.
>There are no lights at the dump. All you can do is crawl in the filth and trust your hooves.
>hours pass and you have long since run out of tears, no turning back
"win now or you die here as just another piece of trash"
>as you chant that mantra for what could have been the thousandth time you feel it, the characteristic crunch of a plastic bottle under your hoof
>You carefully extract it from the pile you were wading through, nearly half full and more importantly almost definitely yours
>You down the entire thing in one gulp and practically dive into that pile.
>You are rewarded with the feeling of a box, a book, and a tattered blanket beneath you
>Waking up in a literal pile of trash is not typically a feeling that one would celebrate
>Given the circumstances however, you greet the sunrise and the trash with exuberance
>Everything aches but in that odd stretchy way, as if things are pulling themselves back together
>You shake off the bits of filth that haven't crusted into your coat and gather your things.
>Book, blanket, water bottle, bits all safe and accounted for
>You carefully drop the bits into the water bottle to ensure none of them get lost. finally you wrap them and the book
into your blanket and tie it around your neck.
>It probably looks silly, but hey how else were you going to bring everything with you without saddle bags?
>You give a happy farewell to your box and set out toward the train station
>It was a long walk ahead of you and the morning air was chilly
>Somehow, despite the season and time of day you felt warm. Heated by that strange unfamiliar warmth that had once again
taken root in your heart
"I'm on my way, So close I can smell him."
>Or you could if your night in the dump hadn't left you with a scent that would probably take weeks to lose
>You arrive at the station and find it nearly empty, a single tired looking stallion sits behind reinforced glass emblazoned with lettering reading "Tickets"
>The stallion at the ticket office looks at you with intense suspicion a raised eyebrow.
>Honestly you can't blame him, your reflection in the ticket booth window is a horrible sight to behold.
>You have things crusted into your coat and mane you couldn't describe in polite company
>Or any company for that matter
"One ticket to Ponyville please"
>You offer an apologetic smile as you give him your water bottle full of bits
>His eyebrow enters low orbit, but he recovers well and counts out your bits returning your water bottle
>As well as The Ticket
>You hold that little strip of paper in your hooves as carefully as a mother holds a newborn
>It almost didn't feel real to be holding it, you'd only had this plan for two days but it felt like every moment had led up to this one
"No that's not right, every moment will lead up to when we meet."
>You know your life, something had to ruin this
"What's your game? Are you going to be blown away? Get stolen? Fall onto the tracks?
>The ticket refuses to give up any information it might be hiding so you store it safely between two pages of your book
>You find a bench on the platform and wait
>As the next few hours go by waiting for the train people begin to trickle in, giving you a chance to partake in one of your favorite pastimes.
>Eavesdropping
>People say so much they assume no one else is listening two from the serious looking unicorns talking about trading stocks to the giggling couple whispering about how they were going to have sex in the luggage car
>You close your eyes to focus on all the voices at once trying to pick the scattered few out of the crowd that were going to ponyville or talking about anon
>"There's just no way anon can run faster than Rainbow Dash can fly"
>"And ah'm saying ah've seen it! When he lured that pack of timberwolves inta swamp he was moving so fast it was practically blur!"
>"Well that settles it right? When Rainbow Dash flies she -is- a blur, case settled Rainbow Dash is more awesome than anon."
>Wait a moment, you recognized that last voice from yesterday
>You open your eyes to see the three fillies who had nearly taken away your only possessions in the world sitting in a circle around a beleaguered looking white mare.
>They were currently having an enthusiastic argument trying to quantify the relative coolness of something called a "Sonic Rainboom" and Anon's achievements against various enemies.
>You consider moving just a bit closer to catch a few more tidbits
> you stop short when you notice the wary eyes of their guardian resting on you.
>With that you're once again reminded of what you are
>You are Morning Glory
>Homeless, filthy, useless, blank flanked, alone on the streets of Manehatten
>But not for much longer
"Because when I get off that train, anon is going to save me."
>After a full hour of awkwardly pretending to read your book specifically trying to appear as un-childmolester as possible, the train to Ponyville arrived
>Everyone bustles onto the train finding their seats, despite being nearly full you have a section of seats to yourself
>It was probably the smell
>Score one of filth and indecency
>Your compartment of the train is profoundly warm after so long in the cold and wet
>You may have woken up this morning feeling more alive and awake than you had in year, but apparently that was extremely relative.
>The warmth of the train and the softness of the seat cushion calls you to sleep and you don't feel inclined to fight it.
>You rest your head on the seat cushion, hugging your few possessions close.
>You close your eyes and murmur with what was becoming a familiar certainty
"That was the last bad day, I'm going to meet him soon"
>Slowly the sound of the train fades and sleep takes you.
>As you awaken a couple hours into the train ride you become immediately aware that something is wrong
>You may be warm, but your blanket is distinctly not there
>Leaping up in a panic you see the white unicorn from the station calmly sitting a couple seats away from you, quickly but precisely repairing every little rip or tear she could find on your old worn blanket.
>She talks to you without taking her eyes of her work
>"I would have asked permission, but you looked like you could use the rest and I didn't want to wake you.
>crap, you should say something, but what? You can't exactly tone down, "Sorry I was eavesdropping on your kids while slowly inching closer to them"
>You settle on, "Thank you"
"Thank you"
>It's nothing darling, I needed a break from those three anyway
"I'm sure they're not so bad, it seems like they've got a great mother"
>The unicorn turns to you with a look like someone had just slapped her
>"How old do you think I am?!"
"s..sorry I just assumed because you were the only adult with them."
>Your luck seems to be continuing it's abnormal trend since this morning because she recovers from inadvertent insult almost immediately
>"Oh it's alright, I'm sure I look older than I am, running myself ragged trying to chaperon for their latest attempt at cutiemarks
"Wait, you came all the way out to Manehatten for that?"
>"Well I had a bit of work I wanted to compare notes on with a friend in the city and they wanted to try for a 'urban refuse disposal'cutiemark"
>"Now I think its my turn, what brings you all the way out to ponyville? I certainly don't think I've seen you around before."
>I'm going to find anon and he's going to rescue me
>The words are about to leave your lips when you realize how absurd and desperate it might sound spoken aloud to someone else
"I uh..I wanted to meet anon"
>She gave a small chuckle
>"You and half the other people on this train."
"You live in Ponyville, have you met him?"
>"In passing, pinkie throws him parties every time he comes back after doing something for Celestia and he comes to me to make his suits.
>That second bit caught your attention
"You make his armor?"
>"No no, just formal wear. He insists on wearing it all the time so he goes through quite a few."
>He always wears a suit?
>You immediately are extremely conscious of your own state of being
"o..oh, is there somewhere I can find him once we get to the city?
>You still can't shake the awareness of every stain and speck in your coat as well as the smell permeating your entire being
>"There's a charming little cafe he likes about five minutes trot north of the station, he spends a lot of his time there when he's not out doing a job for the Sisters"
>That warm feeling was still building, you knew where he would be, you were going to meet him.
>"It looks like we're getting close to the station
>Her tone changed from a conversational one to one of almost motherly concern
>"If you ever need anything darling all you need to do is ask, I work at the Carousel Boutique right near the middle of town, you can't miss it."
>With that she levitated your blanket to you and trotted off to round up those fillies
>You give some semblance of another thank you go and find your blanket looking as good as new, maybe even better.
>It had been so beaten and worn, now it was fixed.
"Just like I'll be after I meet him."
>You gather your things and prepare to leave the train
>If everything people said about anon were true, this would be it. Clear skies for the rest of your life, finding your special talent, maybe even joining him to save the world one or twice!
>Okay that last one was silly but a mare can dream right?
>You practically fly off the train, no more time to waste this is it.
>You gallop through the chilly afternoon or rather you try
>It becomes more of an elaborate hobble with your muscles still being stiff from yesterday's exertion.
>Every step makes you acutely aware of the toll the last few years have taken on your body
>Ponies lightly step out of your way and go about their business
>A thought invades your mad dash to salvation
"This place is so calm, why would a warrior legend like him spend his time there?"
>You shake that thought out of your head
"If half the things about anon are true, he's going to save me."
>You head north as quickly as your body will let you
>You brain is being an asshole again
"If he's such a man of the people why does he always wear clothes, formal clothes at that? The only people who do that are deities or monarchs. Will he even look twice at someone like you?"
>You banish the thought, but a portion of your excitement is turning to fear
"If a tenth of the things about anon are true, he'll almost certainly still save me."
>Your brain isn't letting this one go easily
"Look at you, covered in mud, filth, even spots of cum. He'd have to be like Celestia herself to even willingly come within a mile of a whore like you.
>Fuck you too brain
"If even a hundredth of everything I've heard about him is true, he might still save me"
>You can see a cafe at the end of the street, sitting there at an outdoor table is a creature easily taller than Celestia.
>The fear is overridden by excitement once more and you push yourself into a sprint
"It doesn't matter how much it hurts now, I'm almost there"
>As you get closer though you begin to notice things, little things.
>He was reading a letter and his expression moved between confused and worried
>There was a small stain on the letter's corner where he had spilled coffee
>As you approach there isn't a crackle of magic in the air or a profound sensation of standing in the presence of something far greater than yourself
>He certainly wasn't a pony, but there was still just so much that was
>Normal
>You stop just short of where he is and whisper an almost imperceptible plea
"If even one thing that was said about him is true please let it be his kindness, please let him save me"
>Your heart is pounding a tattoo on your ribs, this was the one chance you had
"E..Excuse me, are you anon
>He looks at you and his eyes aren't pools of infinite wisdom and grace
>Like everyone else, you can see them measuring, calculating, and judging you
>"Yup"
"Can you..Can you save me?"
>His eyes turned from calculating to sad in a matter of moments, moving one time between the letter he'd received and you.
>His voice came out so quiet you could barely make out his answer
>"I'm sorry but, I don't know if I can"
>A part of you always saw this coming but you had buried it as far down as you could
>Nothing had changed, there were no glorious heroes protecting the weak
>There were no kind souls that would shelter you from the storm of life
>You turn to go home
>Well that isn't right, you turn to go back, where there was noting waiting for you
>No false hope
>No glimmers of light
>Nothing that can hurt you more than what you feel right now
>You are Morning Glory
>Homeless, filthy, useless, blank flanked, alone on the streets of Ponyville leaving to return to Manehatten
>As you place the first hoof on the road back to hell you feel a hand touch you
>I don't know if I can save you
"but I'd like to try"