That’s just too much for you.

“Are we seriously gonna discuss theology in the middle of this mess?” you ask, kicking Snips’ body and shoving him aside.

“Theodicy,” Wallflower replies. “The question of why a good God permits the manifestation of evil, thus resolving the issue of the problem of evil. We could as well do that. Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz is my soulmate.”

“I always thought Schopenhauer was your soulmate,” you reply.

“That too.” Wallflower smirks. You can somehow tell she does despite the mask. “I also liked Jacques the Fatalist. I mean, the idea of cultivating my own garden–”

“That was Candide, you evergreen moron.” You sigh and roll your eyes. “Also, you cultivated your own garden until you dropped three bodies in the compost heap and then went on and sarinininininined the whole school.”

You have to pause for a moment. The situation is not quite something you see every day. You just start to wonder why are you even discussing theodicy with Wallflower Blush right after you just left Twilight Sparkle’s body in an empty classroom.

It all started some six weeks ago...

When you got a call from Wallflower Blush, asking you to come to her house, you expected another anime marathon. You weren’t into anime that much before you met her, but well, whatever makes her happy, right? You’re still not sure what brings you there every week – anime, or those moments when she inevitably falls asleep curled on the couch next to you.

Today, however, is slightly different. There’s some old, beaten-up van parked near Wallflower’s house and when you knock on the door, she quickly lets you in, checking out the street, as if making sure no one has seen you.

“My parents aren’t home,” she says.

Well, nice. Maybe it won’t be just anime today.

However, instead of going to her room, she leads you to the basement. Well, that’s a new one.

“What are we doing?” you ask. “Do you have some kind of a sex dungeon in there?”

She chuckles. “Something much better, Anon, something much better!”

Huh. Now you wonder what can be better than a sex dungeon. Two sex dungeons? A sex dungeon and an underground weed plantation? A sex dungeon with a kegerator, an 80-inch TV with the Hallmark Channel, a life-size vinyl replica of Frank N Furter with cranked out oompah loompahs dancing around it?

Unfortunately for you, it looks just like an ordinary basement, although it does have a couch, a TV and some gaming console. Huh, it seems like a gaming night. You look at large tanks standing by one of the walls. Maybe they’re full of beer? You could use a drink.

In the dim light of the basement you see that someone is sitting on the couch. It’s hard to tell who it is, but they definitely have long hair. Gaming and a threesome? Sounds like a plan.

“Wallflower, of all people you could bring here, you brought this moron?”

“He has the best chemistry grades in the whole class,” Wallflower replies. “Also, he’s kinda cute. It’d be a shame if something happened to him.”

You usually hear such words in movies about the mafia and it’s usually not good news. “Hey, what’s going on?” you ask. “Who is here?”

The girl on the couch stands up and turns to you. You recognise her instantly. After all, the whole school talked about her as of late.

Sunset Shimmer. Anon-a-Miss.

Strange that with this name, no one suspected you. But well, you’re kind of like Wallflower, no one really notices you that much. Sunset Shimmer, on the other hand… Well, even though it eventually turned out that the real Anon-a-Miss were some three retards, there were still people who didn’t believe that and claimed that Sunset actually was her.

You shrug mentally. People believe the weirdest things, like the Moon landing being faked, horses from another dimension, or that Principal Celestia was actually a lizard from space.

“Hello, Sunset,” you say. “What’s up?”

“I live in Wallflower’s basement, as you can see,” Sunset replies. “It’s not up, it’s down, pun not intended. And I feel even more down when I see your face.”

“Yeah, I love you too.” You roll your eyes. “Sorry about your current situation, but Wallflower and I have things to do. If you’d be so nice and give up an hour…”

“In your case twenty seconds at best,” Sunset replies. “Also, you’re not going anywhere. We need you.”

“And what if I don’t need you?” you ask.

The last thing you expected was Sunset pulling out a gun on you, but this is exactly what happens. It’s a really big gun. If she shot it, it’d probably break her wrist, but it wouldn’t be much of a consolation, given that your skull would turn into a piece of modern art on the basement wall.

“Then you may end up in Wallflower’s garden, I’m afraid,” Sunset replies. “The thing is, we need your help.”

“In what exactly?” you ask. If you’re going to be shot, you’d rather know why.

“The whole school swallowed the lies of three imbeciles instead of believing me,” Sunset replies. “I want revenge.”

“By starting a school shooting?” you ask. Of course, there are some people in school who deserve to be shot, but still, this seems like an overkill.

“Nah, guns are too good for them,” Sunset replies. “There’s a chance someone may survive. No, I’m thinking bigger. Like, Wallflower said you’re good at chemistry, right?”

“What does it have to do with anything?”

“We already gathered some supplies and equipment,” Sunset says, pointing at the tanks. “Do you think you could make some kind of a poison?”

“Like, to put it in the cafeteria food?” you ask. “It’s already poisonous without that.”

“No, I was thinking more about some kind of gas.” Sunset shrugs.

“We haven’t agreed on details yet,” Wallflower says.

You furrow your eyebrows. “So the only reason you didn’t start a schoolocaust yet is because you can’t agree on details?”

“That and we still don’t have chemical weapons,” Wallflower replies. “By the way, do you happen to know Russian?”

“No, I don’t,” you say.

Wallflower pouts. “Aww, there goes my idea of using Novichok. We actually found the recipe on the dark web, but it’s in Russian and it’s not something you can just put in the translator without getting a surprise visit from the FBI.”

“Yeah, this doesn’t sound like a great idea,” you reply. Somehow, you find Wallflower kinda cute, even when she casually plans mass murder. You’re pretty sure that she smiled at the president, she’d immediately get the nuclear football handed to her. Then you could probably blow up a city or two and watch the last sunset of the nuclear war. “So, what were you thinking about?”

“I was thinking of soman,” Sunset says. “It’s better for murder.”

“Like we’d have access to pinacolyl alcohol.” Wallflower rolls her eyes. “I told you that with sarin, we’d only need isopropyl. And I’d like to remind you that it was already hard to get C-4.”

Now this is getting out of hand. “You have C-4 here?”

“Long story,” Wallflower replies. “Anyway, do you think you could make sarin?”

“Maybe,” you reply. Back when you were hanging out with Moondancer, you thought of making meth and sarin shouldn’t be more complicated. But then your standards became higher and you went on to look for a girlfriend who showers more often than twice a month. Since then Moondancer tried to poison you twice, but she’s being way too obvious about that to be a true criminal.

Maybe she still loves you?

“You only want sarin because you’re a weeb,” Sunset says.

Wallflower sighs. “I wasn’t even born yet during the Tokyo Subway Attacks. It’s just easier to obtain.”

“Well, if I can get a recipe…” You grab your phone and google it. If someone asks, you’ll say that you were researching for a novel. “Hmm… It is usually manufactured and weaponized as a racemic mixture as this involves a simpler synthetic process whilst providing an adequate weapon…”

“Racist mixture?” Sunset asks.

“Racemic.”

“Even worse.”

“Racemic or not, Anon is the expert here,” Wallflower says. “For me, sarin is good enough, even if it’s a homophone.”

“A homophone of what?” Sunset asks.

“Nevermind,” Wallflower replies.

“Wait.” You turn to Wallflower. “Sunset wants to gas the school because they treated her like shit, but why are you doing that?”

“No one noticed me for years,” she replies. “They didn’t even treat me like shit, they treated me like I was nothing.”

“Wasn’t it because of some magical shenanigans?” you ask.

“Yes, but still, I want to be remembered.” Wallflower shrugs. “Also, I think hanging myself is not awesome enough. And look, a murder is just an extroverted suicide, and Mom told me to be less introverted.”

Oh yes, she sometimes has those thoughts. Would be a shame if she actually died and you don’t think that only because then you’d be single again. Murdering the whole school? You can live with that, you never really liked those morons anyway. But if Wallflower died…

That’s why you don’t just punch Sunset and run from the basement. Wally won’t get hurt as long as you’re there to protect her. Even if it means making sarin and preparing pipe bombs.

Well, time to get to work.

It’s been two weeks and it turns out that making sarin is harder than you think.

Well, at least you have a Tyvek suit Sunset got from somewhere. Probably the same place she got C-4 from. She didn’t tell you – after all, the more you know the less you sleep, or something like that.

Wallflower’s basement turned into a small laboratory. You actually consider making meth there – if you’re getting arrested, jail time for this is probably better than getting waterboarded by men in black for terrorism. However, you have no time for that, really. After countless attempts, you finally created something that looks like sarin. You don’t know if it works because, somehow, no one volunteered to test it.

You tell Sunset about this. Even with the gas mask on you can tell she’s not amused.

“What am I supposed to do?” she asks. “Order pizza, tie the pizza guy, and drop him into the tank?”

“Too risky,” you reply. “Someone’s gonna look for the pizza guy and they’ll know the address.”

“Right,” Wallflower says. “We need someone no one will be looking for.”

Sunset nods. “Okay, Anon will hire an escort.”

You raise your eyebrows. “What?”

“A prostitute, Anon.” Sunset rolls her eyes. “Or a whore, if you will. The cheaper the better, crack addiction and STDs are not a problem. You’re not supposed to fuck her, just dip her in sarin and drop her in the gutter.”

“Bad idea,” you reply. “A dead whore in the gutter? People may start asking questions.”

“Why would they?” Wallflower asks. “No one would care about her.”

“Unless she’s marinated in sarin like something that fell out of Chemical Ali’s fridge.” You sigh. Seriously, do those girls read spy novels? “Also, what if some kid finds her, gets contact buzz and dies?”

“You’re about to gas the school and you care about some random kid?” Sunset asks.

“The kid didn’t think you’re Anon-a-Miss.”

“Right, let’s not kill too many innocents,” Wallflower says. “I know a whore who refused to screw me after I paid her. I know where she lives.”

“We’re not killing any whores!” you exclaim. “We can test it on a rat or a rabbit or something and no one will ask questions. Clean, pretty, reliable.”

“Angel Bunny?” Sunset smirks.

Wallflower nods. “Angel Bunny.”

“Right,” you say. “Wally, about that whore…”

“Yes?”

“How many things about you I don’t know?” you ask.

“A lot,” she replies. “I can tell you later.”

“Well, if you still feel, uhh... unscrewed, we can get a room and–”

“No fucking!” Sunset shouts. “We have a demon to slay!”

“Chill out, it’s just a bunny,” you say. “Evil one, but still a bunny. Also, you can join us. Seems like you need to get laid…”

“I can’t!” Sunset replies. “I can only think about revenge!”

“Yeah, whatever.” Definitely, this girl can’t be saved, but it’s not your problem. “Give us fifteen minutes and we can go and get Angel.”

Five minutes later, you’re ready to go. Wallflower is not exactly happy when you sit in the van. This is most definitely your problem, but you promised that next time you’ll improve. Sunset, on the other hand, still seems lost in her thoughts.

“On our way, we have to stop by the kebab place,” she says.

“Are you hungry?” you ask.

“No, the guy who works there knows a guy who knows how to get uranium. Also, I think the next shipment of C-4 has already arrived.”

You guess that it’s high time to express your concerns. Forever holding your peace could end in a mushroom cloud over the town and it’s not quite your relationship goal. “Wait, are we getting uranium now?”

Sunset shakes her head. “Well, the current plan involves a dirty bomb, unless you know how to make a proper nuke. Wally is a weeb, she won’t mind if we go full Hiroshima on this place.”

“I don’t know how to make a nuke,” you lie, driving the van down the street. “Also, why a dirty bomb? A regular one wouldn’t be enough?”

“We want them to remember us forever,” Wallflower replies. “And nothing will make the survivors remember us more than cancer.”

Given that you plan to survive, this only raises further concerns. Time to invest in some lead groin cup. “I’d say that gassing the school is big enough to remember, but whatever you say.” You stop by the kebab place. “Don’t sit there for too long.”

Sunset comes back a few minutes later, carrying a plastic tube and a couple of takeaway food boxes. “I got uranium and kebabs for everyone.”

You take a box and look at it, furrowing your eyebrows. You know the guys from this bar well and they never mentioned they also sell explosives.

“Are you sure about this food?” you ask. “When you said you’re getting uranium, I expected some heavy lead case or something.”

“Don’t worry,” Sunset says. “What? It's not a strong gamma emitter. We used a Geiger counter to check the kebabs for alphas. Also, they think we’re their friends from Asian Dawn Movement.”

“Who?” you ask.

“I read about them in Time magazine,” Sunset replies. “Or maybe I watched it on TV, not sure.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” You shrug, grabbing a plastic fork and taking a bit of your totally-not-radioactive kebab. That’s actually a pretty tasty kebab, all things considered. But alas, you have a job to do.

After about ten minutes of navigating through the traffic, you finally reach the pet store where Fluttershy works. You don’t think she’ll sell you Angel, but considering Sunset’s mental state, you think any white bunny will do.

In fact, you and Wallflower need a serious talk about Sunset. Even without the part about murdering everyone at school, the girl looks like she needs therapy. Of course, Wallflower also wants to murder everyone at school and you don’t really give a fuck, so it seems like you all need therapy. Or at least Horse Jesus.

You park by the pet store. Sunset doesn’t want to go there and meet Fluttershy, so it seems that the dangerous mission is in your and Wallflower’s hands.

The store smells like a typical pet store which means mostly pet food and shit. You look at the cage with parakeets, pretending to be very interested in them.

“Don’t you think we should get Sunset a psychotherapist?” you ask.

Wallflower blushes. “I actually put roofies in her drink once or twice, when my parents weren’t home…”

You roll your eyes, hoping that none of the parakeets knows how to talk. “Psychotherapist, not psycho-the-rapist, you evergreen moron. Also, seriously? I’ll watch out for any drinks you give me.” Suddenly, another thought occurs to you. It’s possibly even worse. “Where are your parents anyway? I don’t think I’ve ever seen them and somehow they didn’t notice that Sunset basically lives in your basement.”

“They’re having their twentieth anniversary in the Bahamas,” Wallflower replies. “Seriously, I didn’t kill them or anything. Someone would notice if such important people disappeared.”

“Important?” you ask. “Who are they?”

“Undertakers.”

“They better come back soon,” you mutter. “They’ll have a lot of work. Anyway, maybe it’d save us a lot of trouble if we got her a psychotherapist. And another one for you, seriously. Roofies? Really?”

“Sodium pentathol, roofies, and LSD. It’s like a memory stone but sexier.” She shrugs. You’re not sure whether to agree with her or grab a whip from the shelf with horse accessories and smack her. Though she may actually like it.

Note to self: buy a whip. If it doesn’t work out with Wallflower, Lyra may be into it.

Assuming she doesn’t get sarin to the face. Which brings you back to what you came here for.

You look around and see Fluttershy on the other side of the store, behind the counter. As you approach her, she furrows her eyebrows. What did you do this time? You don’t even remember.

“Anon,” she says coldly. “What brings you here?”

“We need, uhh…”

“A rabbit,” Wallflower says. “Actually, can we just borrow Angel? We won’t need it for long.”

“I’m not lending you Angel or any other pet, for that matter,” Fluttershy replies.

Could it be after you stole her place in the parking lot? That’s quite possible. Or maybe when you asked her if she ever banged a dog? Maybe.

“Not after what he did to Angel.”

Ah, so it’s about that one time when you used Angel to wipe your dick after you had a casual one-night stand with Fluttershy. To be honest, this little fucker deserved it, but Fluttershy hates you ever since.

“What did you do?” Wallflower asks. “You should’ve told us earlier. I’d come here alone.”

“What do you even need a rabbit for?” Fluttershy asks. “You can just get some tissues or something.”

“We need to uhh, test something,” Wallflower replies. Just great, she dug a grave for both of you.

“Don’t you know I’m against animal testing!?” Fluttershy yells.

To be honest, you know that. You slept with her, after all.

“Right. Let’s test it on a human.” Wallflower sighs and punches Fluttershy in the face. Fluttershy recoils, holding her face while Wallflower rubs her hand and yells something about breaking her wrist.

“Are you crazy?” you ask, even though you know the answer quite well.

“I’m calling the police,” Fluttershy says, holding her nose. Blood is streaming down her face. Unfortunately, Wallflower didn't knock her out.

Just great. You’re gonna get arrested, then someone will break down during the interrogation and mention sarin to the officials. Not to mention that Sunset has uranium in the van. Soon, you’ll end up in prison where a guy the size of Bulk Biceps will drop a soap under the shower and ask you to kindly pick it up.

Yeah, your ass is not ready for that.

You grab a 2500-gram jug of aquarium salt from the counter and unceremoniously hit Fluttershy over the head with it. She staggers; you hit her again for a good measure and she drops on the floor, unconscious. Excited parakeets are making a lot of noise; maybe that’s for the best.

“Wow,” Wallflower mutters. “Is she dead?”

“Nah, she’s breathing,” you reply, carefully wiping your fingerprints from the jug. There’s some blood on it and on the counter, but hopefully it’s not yours. “Do you think they have cameras in there? We also need duct tape in case she wakes up.”

“I’ll check in the backroom,” Wallflower replies.

A few minutes later, Fluttershy is neatly tied with duct tape while you look at the hard drive from the computer Wallflower found in the back. You’ve heard that if you just deleted the recordings, someone could restore them, so you just ripped the hard drive off.

For once, watching CSI paid off.

“You didn’t touch anything, right?” you ask, stuffing the hard drive into a bag. You also stole the money from the cash register, the whip, and dog breeding pregnancy tests just to give the cops something to think about.

“I tried not to,” Wallflower says. “If anything, I’ll say that I was here a month ago.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” you reply, grabbing Fluttershy. “Go first, check if no one’s around, and tell Sunset to drive closer to the store.”

Wallflower nods and walks out of the store. After a few minutes, Sunset parks the van almost by the door. It’s probably not allowed, but you hope people will think it’s a delivery.

You carry Fluttershy out and put her in the back of the van. Wallflower looks at her with a smirk.

“At least it’s not me this time,” she mutters.

“What?” you ask.

“Long story,” she replies. “I’ll tell you if you’re not afraid of clowns.”

Clowns? What the actual fuck? You’d like to know, but you guess there’ll be a better time for that. For now you added theft and kidnapping to your growing rap sheet and you really don’t want to face the consequences.

Especially since Sunset looks back and realises that instead of Angel, you brought Fluttershy in. She rolls her eyes and gives you a look suspiciously similar to the one you got from Fluttershy herself when you used Angel to wipe your dick. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Anon…” she says. “What shade of autism spectrum are you? I told you to bring Angel here. This is not Angel, you imbecile.”

“Well, I wasn’t the one who punched her,” you reply. “It kinda escalated from there.”

“Is that why you have dog pregnancy tests?” Sunset asks.

You look her in the eyes and smirk. “Wallflower keeps a rabid bitch in her basement. She wanted to get her tested.”

“Really? I’ve never no–” A sudden clarity appears on Sunset’s face. “Anon, you fucking son of a donkey…”

“Hey, no need to be rude here!” Wallflower exclaims. “And she’s even better than Angel. We can test how it works on an actual human. Even from the same school, so the test is closer to the real deal.”

Sunset scratches her chin. “Yeah, why not,” she says. “She won't have to watch her friends die, so maybe that’s for the best.”

“Exactly,” you say. “Now drive carefully, we don’t want to get pulled over while she’s here.”

“At least she’s not making much noise,” Sunset mutters. “What did you do to her anyway?”

“Aquarium salt,” you reply.

“Make sure she doesn’t choke on her own blood,” Sunset says, starting the engine. “We need to get her alive to Wallflower’s house.”

“You can count on me,” Wallflower says. “When we had first aid classes, I listened carefully.”

“I can confirm.” Sunset sighs. “Especially when they talked about gunshot wounds.”

“Hey, it’s better to always be prepared in case some nutjob shows up with a rifle and tries to shoot everyone.”

“Nutjob?” you ask. “What does that make us?”

“You don’t understand,” Sunset replies. “For what they did to me, the students don’t deserve an ordinary crime. They deserve a war crime.”

You’re still not convinced. “What exactly did they do to you? Sure, they thought that you were Anon-a-Miss, but–”

"During Anon-a-Miss, Rarity broke into my house and drilled my nipples with a CNC lathe."

You look over Sunset's head at Wallflower. She shrugs, then twirls a finger to the side of her head, followed by shooting a finger gun at the back of Sunset's head. You nod, but then Wallflower points the finger gun at her own head and makes a face suggesting fatal brain damage. She then makes a spreading-fingers gesture at her own crotch levels and mouths something that sounds like "sploosh”.

You shake your head and turn to Sunset. “A lathe, you say?” you ask, hoping that you sound like Freud asking a patient whether he ever considered having coitus with his own mother. “Are you sure it was Rarity? Because I don’t think Rarity would ever–”

“I am completely sure of that,” Sunset replies. “She made a video and everyone saw it.”

Now you’d surely know of that. After all, everyone allegedly saw it. Unless you and Wallflower were omitted again.

It’s not easy being green, sometimes.

“Enough about that,” Sunset says. “Although I wonder why no one suspected you, Anon. It’s not a common name, right?”

“It’s Swedish,” you say. “I mean, isn’t it obvious?” You point at the yellow football jersey you’re wearing.

“No,” Sunset replies. “What country is that anyway?”

You sigh and roll your eyes. Goddamn Americans. At least she didn’t ask you about Alps, yodeling, gold from suspicious sources, and cheese.

“Long story,” you reply. “I think Fluttershy is waking up.”

“Should I smack her again?” Wallflower asks. “We don’t want her to make too much noise when we bring her to the basement.”

“She’s gagged anyway,” you reply. “Also, we can put the van in the garage. It looks suspicious when it’s parked in the street. Who did you get it from? Some retired pedophile?”

“Nah, some priest from a nearby parish.” Wallflower shrugs. “He had to sell it quickly as he was moving out.”

“Good for him,” you say. “Not good for Fluttershy, though…”