/k/ Anon and Spider Shimm 2 (Interveiw with a blogger)


                                            >You are Anon.

                                            >And, like most days, you are woken up by the shrill chirping of your alarm clock.

                                            >As you attempt to roll over and shut it off, you feel the sensation of someone clinging tightly to your chest.

                                            >Looking down, you see the fiery mass of hair belonging to Sunset Shimmer using your chest as a pillow.

                                            >Further inspection of her reveals that she did not take off her costume when she got into bed last night.

                                            >Poor girl must have been dead tired.

                                            >Carefully extracting yourself from her grasp you make your way into the bathroom to begin your day.

                                            >About ten minutes later, you are making breakfast in the kitchen as you hear Sunset start her day.

                                            >Sunset's day usually begins with her mumbling curses at the sun, the floor, and just about anything between her and her morning cup of coffee.

                                            >Luckily for you, she seems to equate you and said coffee.

                                            >Mostly because you usually get up before her and make it.

                                            >You don't even want to think about what would happen if she had to make it herself.

                                            >But enough about that you have waffles to finish cooking.

                                            >By the time Sunset stumbles into the kitchen you have a cup of coffee waiting for her and just shy of a dozen waffles.

                                            >"Thank's Tiger," the spectacular spider-grouch mutters, slowly sipping on the cup of joe in front of her.

                                            "Goodmorning to you too sunshine."


                                            >An hour later and the two of you are in the car on your way to your respective places of work.

                                            >Sunset at the Daily Bugle and you about thirty minutes down the road at Front Line's office.

                                            >Over the last few months there's been a kind of exodus from the Daily Bugle, especially since Jameson sold it to run for mayor of New York.

                                            >Though you were the only one not to wish him any form of luck.

                                            >After all, he does kinda have it out for your girlfriend.

                                            >Which, while infuriating, is also somewhat funny.

                                            >Especially since, until his mayoral run, Jamison had employed Sunset as his secretary.

                                            >And he still wonders why Spider-Woman knew his schedule

                                            >But, as much as you dislike Jameson, at least he had some integrity.

                                            >The new guy definitely does not.

                                            >Jameson's chair wasn't even cold by the time Bennett changed the format from Superhero related news to the scandals of celebrities and politicians.

                                            >And best of all, when you wouldn't work on the weekends for free, the motherless bastard fired you for "Drinking on the job."

                                            >So you, like many other former Bugle employees, you joined up with Front Line as the resident IT.

                                            >Your job there is easy enough, you just have to make sure the reporters don't completely fuck up the computers, printers, and other electronics.

                                            >And when you inevitably fail that, fix their fuck-ups.

                                            >Still, it's a decent job, and the pay is nothing to sneeze at.

                                            >Plus most days you get to spend lunch with Sunset.


                                            >Four hours later you and Sunset are standing in line at some hipster cafe, not either of your first choices, but it's exactly halfway between your respective places of employ.

                                            >Sunset is staring at the menu trying to decide if she wants an over-priced coffee when you feel a sharp tugging on your hip.

                                            >Turning, you see a purple and green haired girl who wouldn't look out of place in Berkley.

                                            "What the ever loving fuck do you think you're doing?"

                                            >While you are calm on the outside, inside you are a seething ocean of pure unadulterated rage.

                                            >The girl seems taken aback.

                                            >"I-I um, uhh.."

                                            "I'll ask one more time, why on god's green earth were you trying to grab my gun?"

                                            >This seems to snap her out of her stupor.

                                            >"Why do you even need a gun? Those things are just baby killing machines!"

                                            >She sounds like a spokeswoman for the Brady campaign.

                                            "First, do you know how many super-powered criminals exist? Second, if you think that guns are for killing only, why were you trying to take mine?"

                                            >You expect some REEing or something, but instead, the girl just runs out the door.

                                            >Fucking weird.

                                            "Thank's for having my back dear."

                                            >Sunset, no doubt sensing your not so subtle sarcasm, turns and gives you a Cheshire smile.

                                            >"I thought that you had that covered, or is big strong Anon scared of a little college student?"

                                            "Shut up."

                                            >Sunset giggles

                                            >"Alright Tiger, no need to be such a grouch."


                                            >After lunch, you return to work, ready for the day to end.

                                            >So as usual, you make your way back to the sanctuary of the IT room.

                                            >Just as you are about to enter the stuffy nirvana of servers and extra terminals, the music writer, Vinyl, pulls you aside and shows you something on her phone, snickering like a ten-year-old boy that just heard the word "boner."

                                            >What you see is a short article from the "DB!" that would be better suited as a blog post.

                                            >The post in question is about how the writer was accosted while grabbing coffee at her favorite coffee shop by a brute of a cop-killing redneck neo-nazi wielding no less than fifteen "high caliber assault weapons."

                                            >Looking at the name of the writer, you are confused to see the name Starlight Glimmer, and not one of the reporters that you knew that remained at the Bugle when you left.

                                            >Vinyl is outright cackling at this point.

                                            >"He-hey Anon, [annoying music reporter laugh] isn't that the cafe that you and Sunset go to?"

                                            "Not anymore."