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“What about that guy?” 
>You gesture to an old withered bark-skinned monster.
>“I don't know, Anon…” your roomie, Miff,  whimpers in a hushed voice, ducking back behind the dead bush.
>Almost as if a peep would alert all the nine hells to your position. 
>Your jaw tightens as the giant of a beast ushers itself inside stony structure, the cold howling winds of Tartarus proving to be too much for even a greater daemon this time of year. 
>You look up from your binoculars and at the imp pony next to you.
“Are we still doing this or what?”
>”Anon, this was a bad idea. We should go back to our guardian.” She shivers. “He’ll get real mad at us for being out this late.”
>You scoff at the trembling mess beside you.
“What is he going to do? Throw us in Tartarus again? He’s not our real dad.”
>”We could be thrown in one of the inner prisons where the true evils reside.” She shudders “They say mortals go mad upon discovering what kind of evils they do there. I can’t survive that, Anon.”
>You give her a half smile. 
”They're not going to throw an imp pony and a straight out of Equestria trouble maker into the inner prisons.” 
>She frowns back at you, not exactly buying it.
“…Okay maybe they will but, at most for a night to scare us until they call our guardian.”
>”Then we'll be grounded for THE REST OF OUR LIVES Anon,” she cries, before jamming a hoof in her mouth, a haunted look on her features as she looks around. 
 
 
>“This is serious.” she hisses, going back to a hushed voice.
You look back into the binoculars with a huff, “Now you’re just exaggerating, you big baby.”
>Miff snorts back at you. “I am not a big-”
“Shut the fuck up, someone else is coming.”
>Your little roomie snorts again, looking around, only to focus on the very same eldritch horror you’re staring at as it walks down the pavement.
>”THAT GUY? You’re crazy. Humans are crazy. I’m leaving.”
>You pick up your friend placing her under you arm before she can fly away and dash out behind your cover. 
>As you run up to the monstrosity, the imp kicks and tries to twist in your grasp.
>Miff seems to have given up on being quiet, yelling obscenities every step of the way
>A few firm words about your mother thrown in too for good measure.
>You step in front of the imposing creature.
>To your luck, it also stops.
>The cold chill goes frigid, as the ugly thing leers down to acknowledge your pitiful existence.
>Despite that you face starts to drip cold sweat just from looking at the thing.
>It brandishes long sharp teeth in what resembles a smile.
>At least, you want to believe it’s a smile.
 
 
>And not one of ill intentions.
>Your jaw tightens and you adopt a threatening look- or as threatening as someone who wants to piss themselves can look, as you stare up into its many eyes.
>It cocks its head, adopting a hint of sadistic curiosity.
>You hold out a bag of bits.
”Coul-” you cough. 
>When did your throat get so dry?
>Swallowing, you attempt to speak again. 
”Could you buy us some real alcohol?”
>Miff offers no help, hanging limply in your arm while staring at the floor like a shy school filly.
>He… she? It blinks for a moment, then smiles, taking the bits in a mangled looking claw.
>”Heh, you lesser creatures. This brings back memories. Just wait out here,” it says in a low grumbling voice that stirs the wind around you.
>As soon as it steps inside, it feels like a crippling weight has been lifted off of you.
“See? You big baby, nothing bad happened.”
>”I’m not a big baby,” she snaps, starting to fidget in your grasp again.
>You lean on the stone wall and look round as you wait, your companion stops, barely even breathing.
>A slight twitch of her ear is the only signal that she ‘might’ be alive.
 
 
>If you hadn’t known her to play dead when things got rough you’d be concerned.
>...
>”’Non...”
>You snap back to attention, rubbing at your eye.
>”Anon” you hear again, the voice sounding strained.
>You look back down at your companion, only to realise there’s a whole platoon of guards headed your way.
>That fucker took your bits and signalled the guard.
>Barely even having time to react, they throw a weighted net over you and Miff.
>You are Anonymous, ‘the scorned’, and more recently, ‘the exiled’. 
>And you think you think you can add ‘the screwed’ onto that list.