Sunset Sleeps With the Fishes
To a practiced liar like Sunset Shimmer, customer service came easy. Making sushi, however, did not.
“Enjoy,” said Sunset, sliding four lopsided makizushi rolls into a takeout box. Maintaining her pearl-toothed grin, she slid the meal across the counter. “Have a delicious day!”
The customer gave his sushi a nauseated glance—but soon gave into Sunset’s peer pressure and returned the smile. He only held eye contact for a half-second before scurrying off with his food.
“And come again!” Sunset called after him, still wearing that static grin. But once he disappeared from sight, her entire face collapsed. She let out a braindead groan and fell back, flumping down onto a container filled with dead fish. “How long have I been working?”
Sitting on the floor, Twilight didn’t look up from her notebook. “Twenty minutes.” A clothespin clamped her nostrils shut.
Sunset groaned. “Stupid lunch rushes,” she said, pulling down her too-short skirt. “Stupid sushi cart uniform. Stupid capitalism. How come I gotta get a job while you just sit around all day?”
“Because you’re the one who decided to max out a credit card buying tickets to horse races.”
“C’mon, you can’t blame me for that,” Sunset said, throwing out her arms. “I have a duty to support my kinfolk!”
“Besides,” said Twilight, scribbling away, “I’ll have you know that I’m not just sitting around. I’m doing some very hard work here!”
Sunset glowered. “You’re writing fanfiction.”
“No,” Twilight sputtered out. She took a breath and regained her composure. “I’m drafting a post for my blog. Which, to be fair, is a fanfiction analysis blog, but—”
“All I’m saying is that if you wanna crash in my sushi truck—and I dunno why you do, this place smells like a rotting whale—I think you gotta start pulling your weight,” Sunset said.
“Maybe I just like spending time with my girlfriend,” Twilight said, flashing a smile. The smile dropped and she resumed writing. “Or maybe it’s just that this cart has an air conditioner, and my bedroom doesn’t.”
“Or maybe this kimono just makes me look hot as hell,” Sunset said, shaking her hips. In the tight confines of the cart, the edges of her kimono nearly slapped Twilight right in her blushing face. Sunset laughed and prepared to tease Twilight more, but in the corner of her eye noticed someone approaching her cart. “Look alive. Customer.”
Twilight curled up closer to the wall while Sunset dealt with her new patron. She had the routine down pat: put on smile, take order. Mash some fish, rice, and seaweed together. Throw in a few splashes of the Corporate Mandated Secret Sauce™. Serve, take payment. And thus the cogs of the capitalist sushi machine wore on.
“Um, Sunset,” said Twilight as the customer left. “I’ve been wondering, what is that weird goo you keep putting on the sushi?”
“Hm?” Sunset picked up a vial of tar black liquid. “Oh, you mean the Corporate Mandated Secret Sauce?”
Twilight gave the vial a wary look. “Yes, that. Not that I’m any sort of expert, but that doesn’t look like any sort of food topping I’ve ever seen. What is it?”
Sunset opened her mouth to answer—but paused. “I don’t actually know,” she said. “In the email, my bosses just said to slather it on all the sushi.”
“The email?”
“I got hired over the internet,” said Sunset. “One of those freelance job sites, y’know? Just sent in an application and got the job a few minutes later.”
“Wait,” Twilight said, furrowing her brows. “You’re telling me that you, a high school student with no cooking skills—don’t give me that look, it’s true—was put in charge of her own sushi stand without so much as an interview? How good was your resume?”
Sunset scoffed. “Before this gig, I hadn’t worked a day in my life. I don’t have a resume.”
“And you don’t find anything about this questionable?” Twilight asked.
“Twi, I barely make minimum wage. I’m not getting paid enough to ask questions.”
“Give me that,” Twilight said, standing up and grabbing the vial from Sunset. She turned it over to read the label on the side: “‘Secret Sauce. For use by Poseidon Inc. employees only. Designed to enhance both murdered fish flavor and human enjoyment of said murdered fish. Definitely not deadly to anyone. Gluten free.’” She gazed at the black liquid inside. “What does it taste like?”
“I dunno,” Sunset said, shrugging. “I’ve never had it.”
“So you don’t even know what you’re serving?” Twilight asked. “Don’t you taste test your food?”
“What kind of chef eats their own food? That’s just stealing from the customers, isn’t it?”
Twilight stared. “The fact that someone thought you were qualified to run your own kitchen might be the scariest thing about this.”
Sunset turned up her nose. “You’re just jealous that I get to wear a sexy kimono and you don’t.”
Rolling her eyes, Twilight grabbed her notebook and Sunset’s arm. “Let’s go,” she said, pulling Sunset out of the cart. “I’m not risking letting you put this stuff on any more food. We’ve got some investigating to do.”
“Stop, stop!” Sunset said, digging her heels into the sidewalk outside. She glanced back at her cart. “I can’t just leave my shop unattended. What if a customer comes by?”
Twilight didn’t stop walking. “Do you want to dismantle the uncaring capitalist machine or not?”
Sunset blinked a few times, then hurried after her with a grin. “Coming!”
Twenty minutes in the shower, and Sunset still hadn’t washed the stench of dead fish from her skin. Still, any longer and she was bound to become a prune, so she cloaked herself up in a towel and exited the bathroom. “Any luck?” she asked, wrapping up her hair.
Stationed at her computer desk, Twilight scratched her head. “Yes? No? Whatever this is, I wouldn’t call it luck.” She scooted over so Sunset could see the screen. “I did a little digging into this ‘Poseidon Inc.’ company that you’re working for, and all I found was their profile page on that freelancing site you used. No phone number, no address—even their email address was just a throwaway account.”
“So, what?” Sunset said. “You hit a dead end?”
“Not exactly.” Twilight grabbed the mouse and pulled up another screen, this one filled with row after row of names and phone numbers. “The Canterlot City Government keeps a private list of the contact information for every restaurant in town, including food carts. Lucky for us, their login system is paper thin. It only took me a few minutes to get in.”
Sunset laughed. “That’s my favorite hacker! So, you got a name?”
Twilight clicked her tongue. “Again, not exactly. The Super Sushi truck is listed as being owned by someone named ‘Silver Barnacle’—a person who only exists on paper. I looked it up, and there’s not a single person in the country with that name. And when I called their phone number, all I got was some computerized voice on the other end telling me they ‘don’t want to buy any more timeshares.’”
Sunset’s eyes widened. “Whoa. Spooky.”
“We’re dealing with something sinister here,” said Twilight. She examined the vial of Secret Sauce. “I don’t know what this stuff is, but I don’t trust it. The lives of every sushi-eater in the city could be at stake.”
“Y’know,” said Sunset, “sometimes I wish we could go a month without having to dismantle some jerkwad’s evil scheme.”
Twilight shrugged. “Eh. That’s what you get when you’ve got magic pony ears.”
A sharp clacking sound at the window shut them both up. They froze, staring—and jumped when another, even louder clack rang out. Eyes narrowed, Sunset tightened her towel and crept over to the window. She kept low to the floor as she scanned the yard outside, but found nothing.
Nothing, that is, but a tiny paper scroll sitting on the window sill outside, tied to a rock. Sunset opened the window and swiped the paper up.
“What’s that?” Twilight asked. “A note?”
“Looks like it.” Sunset unfurled the paper. “It says, ‘Dear Cutie Patooties, I know what it is that you’re looking for. Meet me on the docks at sundown.’” Sunset looked up. “It’s got no name.”
“I’m not buying it,” said Twilight. “I mean, ‘Cutie Patooties?’ What sort of psychopath wrote this letter? Sounds like a trap to me.”
“Maybe so,” Sunset said, “but it’s our only lead right now. What other choice do we have?”
Twilight sighed. “Alright. But if this lead turns out to be some pervert with a chainsaw, then I... well, I’m probably gonna scream and pee my pants. But then I’m gonna be so pissed off.”
“Hell yeah!” Sunset pumped a fist and pulled Twilight close. “Let’s go show this ‘Silver Barnacle’ what we’ve got!”
“Sure,” said Twilight, face smushed against Sunset’s breasts. “But maybe you should put some clothes on first.”
Hours later, Twilight and Sunset stepped off the downtown bus and scurried across the street to Canterlot Harbor. They hadn’t arrived unarmed; along the way, Sunset had stopped to buy a baseball bat. Of course, the only baseball bat they were able to find at their local convenience store was an oversized wiffle ball bat, covered in pink hearts. Still, Sunset held it tight, ready to swing.
The two crept along the docks, heads swiveling, until they spotted a lone figure standing at the edge of the water. This figure—tall, wide, cloaked in a shadowy trenchcoat—turned to look at them, gazing out from beneath his trilby with piercing blue eyes.
Twilight squeaked and hid behind Sunset. Gulping, Sunset gripped her wiffle bat and kept moving.
“Are you the one who left us the note?” Sunset asked once they reached the end of the pier. “You have info for us?”
Trenchcoat Man leered at them. “You made the right decision, coming to me,” he said, his voice deep and rough like scrap metal.
“And who are you?” Sunset asked.
“You can call me”—His trenchcoat flapped dramatically in the wind—“Deep Throat.”
Sunset cringed. “Oh goddess, ew.”
“I told you he was gonna be some sort of pervert,” Twilight muttered.
Trenchcoat Man’s eyes went wide. “No, not like that! Because of my super cool deep voice, you see?”
“Whatever, Creepshow.” Sunset waved her hands. “Can we just get on with this? What do you know?”
“I know that the Super Sushi cart is just a front,” Trenchcoat Man said, “and you’re just a puppet, while the real masterminds plot and conspire from the shadows.”
“Masterminds? So there’s more than one person behind this?” Twilight asked.
“A trio, bound on destroying Canterlot as we know it,” Trenchcoat Man said, looking out over the city. “And they’re entering their endgame. You need to act quickly, or we’ll all be sleeping with the fishes.”
“Again, ew,” Twilight said.
Sunset crossed her arms. “And where can we find these so-called masterminds?”
Trenchcoat Man pulled out a slip of paper and handed it to Twilight. “Here’s their address. Head there, and you can see how far down this rabbit hole really goes. But tread lightly—reaching their secret hideout won’t be easy.”
“35 Swan Road?” Twilight said, frowning. “This is three blocks away from my house. I used to go Trick-or-Treating on this street.”
Sunset furrowing her brows. “Wait a second,” she said, taking the paper. She squinted at the bright pink lettering, and the i’s dotted with hearts. “I recognize this handwriting.”
“No you don’t,” Trenchcoat Man said.
Sunset jumped forward and slapped the hat off his head, revealing a floofy mass of pink hair.
“Pinkie Pie!” Twilight said, stomping a foot. “I thought we told you to get rid of that dirty old trenchcoat!”
Wilting, Pinkie hung her head. “But it makes me look so hard boiled and mysterious,” she said. “And doing the deep voice makes my throat feel all tingly!”
“I don’t care how tingly you are,” Sunset said, leaning into Pinkie. “If this info turns out to be false, we’re throwing that dingy hat of yours right in the trash.”
“What? No! This is my dad’s favorite trilby!” Pinkie sprinted away, pulling her hat down as far as it would go. “You’ll never take me alive!” she yelled as she dived into the harbor.
“Cherry Hill... Prince Street... Swan Road,” Twilight said, face lighting up. “This is it!”
With the noontime sun hanging above them, Twilight and Sunset walked along the sidewalk, headed for the address Pinkie had given them. They kept close, scanning the streets with sharpened eyes. For all they knew, snipers were tracking their every move, ready to blast right through their fragile teenage hearts.
Yet, if this street really was the home to a set of evil sushi salesmen, it didn’t look it. If anything, it looked more upscale and bougie than the rest of the neighborhood. Laughing children ran across manicured lawns. Chittering birds and squirrels filled the trees. Across the street, a family of garden gnomes watched over a flowerbed.
And halfway down the block sat House #35, just as normal as all the rest. Twilight and Sunset shared a look, but then made their approach, stepping onto the “Home is Where the Heart Is” welcome mat in front of the door. Nothing exploded when Sunset rang the doorbell, which she counted as a victory.
A moment passed before a voice sing-songed from inside the house: “Coming!”
A chill spidered down Sunset’s back. She knew this voice.
The door swung open, and Sonata Dusk—hair tied into a bun and decked out in a pink apron—stepped into view. “Hello!” she chirped, wiping her hands on the apron. “How can I help—”
Sunset and Sonata stared at one another, silent.
Sonata sprinted back into the house.
“Hey!” Sunset shouted, running inside. “Get back here!”
Sunset raced through the foyer, then followed Sonata into the living room. Both siren and pony scrambled over couches and chairs. Diving into the next hallway, Sonata pulled down a floor lamp, which barely missed Sunset’s head.
Sunset shot down the hall, arms outstretched, grabbing at the straps of Sonata’s apron—just as she made contact, Sonata darted left, into the kitchen.
Sonata’s feet hit the smooth linoleum and her legs went flying out from under her. She let out a screech as she slid across the room butt-first before crashing into the fridge. A waterfall of colorful cereal boxes rained down on top of her.
Sunset dug her out, then pinned her to the floor. “What are you doing here?” she asked, twisting Sonata’s arm.
“I’m just making cookies!” Sonata said. She thrashed about, kicking her legs every which way. “Let me go! I have my rights! I want my lawyer!”
Panting, Twilight ran into the kitchen. “Sunset!” she said through heavy breaths. “What are you doing? Who is this?”
“Sonata Dusk,” said Sunset, glaring down at her catch. “A siren, banished from Equestria for trying to take over the world. The girls and I ran into her and her partners a year-or-so back.”
“Hey, you! Princess!” Sonata said, looking up at Twilight. “Tell your marefriend to get off me. I’ve got cookies in the oven! They’re gonna burn, and then Dagi is gonna be so mad at me!” She paused, then smiled. “By the way, I love the new look. Pink bowtie? Way chic.”
Twilight touched her bowtie, cheeks flushing. “Oh? Um, thank you—I think.” Twilight twiddled her fingers a bit, then said, “Sunset, I don’t think you need to keep holding her down like that. She doesn’t look dangerous.”
“Don’t let her deceive you,” said Sunset. “She’s making ‘cookies?’ That’s probably a code word for ‘doomsday device.’”
Sonata rolled her eyes. “No, dummy. ‘Window cleaning’ is the code word for doomsday device.”
Sunset scowled. “Whatever! You’re gonna tell us everything we want to know.”
Adagio walked into the kitchen. “Sonata, where are our cookies?”
Once again, the two parties stared at one another.
Adagio backed out of the room. “Aria!” she shouted down the hallway. “Get the gun!”
“Hold it!” Sunset said, pointing at Adagio. “You come back and explain what you’re doing here.”
“What are you doing here?” Adagio asked, stomping back into the kitchen. “This is private property!”
“Yeah, we’re not doing anything evil!” said Sonata. She finally wriggled out of Sunset’s grasp and over to her leader. “At least, not right now.”
“We’re investigating the Super Sushi stand,” said Twilight, “and the strange Secret Sauce that goes on all the food. We have reason to believe that you two are involved somehow.”
Adagio went pale. “Wait—how did you know about the Secret Sauce? Only employees are supposed to know about it!”
Sunset shrugged. “Well, yeah. I’m the one that got hired to run the stand.”
Sonata gasped. “You’re ponyprincess102@mystable.net?”
Twilight choked on a snicker. Sunset, face burning, looked away. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”
An ear-shattering boom filled the air, and the wall clock near Sunset’s head exploded. Everyone yelped and dropped to the floor as Aria Blaze ran into the room, waving a rifle around.
“Stay back!” she shouted, hair mussed up and still wearing her pajamas. “I don’t know how to aim this thing, and I’m not afraid to use it!”
As everyone rose back up to their feet, Aria blinked the sleep out of her eyes—then glared at Twilight and Sunset. “Oh, it’s you losers. Back for Round Two?” She trained her gun on the two girls.
Sunset stepped in front of Twilight, but got no chance to die dramatically in her lover’s arms; Adagio had already grabbed Aria’s arm and forced her to lower the weapon.
“Put that thing away,” said Adagio. “Really, is that any way to treat our only employee?”
“So you were the ones who hired me,” Sunset said.
“You’re lucky we didn’t bother holding interviews,” Adagio said. “We would never have hired a stupid pony like you if we had known.”
“So what’s your big plan?” Sunset asked, eyes darting between the three sirens. “Monsters like you don’t just decide to become sushi moguls. What’s your endgame?”
Aria snorted. “Why should we tell you?”
“Because if you don’t,” said Twilight—while everyone was distracted, she’d snuck over to the oven and had her hand on the temperature dial—“I’ll burn your precious cookies to a crisp.”
Sonata gasped. Adagio bared her teeth. “You don’t have the guts.”
Twilight turned the temperature from 350° to 375°.
“No! They’re oatmeal-raisin chunk!” Sonata cried, falling to her knees. “All our stuff is in the basement. Just leave my cookies alone!”
Sunset and Twilight shared a smirk. Aria pointed the rifle at Sonata’s head, but Adagio smacked her.
“Show us,” said Sunset.
The Dazzlings all sneered, but didn’t complain as they beckoned for Twilight and Sunset to follow.
The group delved deeper into the house—the totally average and inconspicuous house, complete with “Bless This Mess” signs around every corner—before reaching a door with three padlocks. Adagio undid each one, then led the girls through the doorway and into a dark chamber. Sunset crinkled her nose at the basement’s smell, some rancid blend of must and bleach. With the stock of her gun, Aria drove Twilight and Sunset forward, where they bumped into something large and solid. Adagio flicked on the light.
Twilight and Sunset stepped back and gaped. The room they’d stepped into looked less like a basement and more like a factory; a massive metal contraption took up half the room and most of the ceiling, with an assembly line snaking out and around the room. Clear vials, just like the one Twilight had in her pocket, moved down the line, stopped halfway through to be filled with that nasty black sauce, and then were corked up and sent rolling into a shipping container. The group had arrived just in time to see a full container—it held at least a hundred vials—move to the side so an empty one could take its place.
Twilight swallowed. “And what are you going to do with all this?”
“Kill everyone,” Sonata chirped.
Aria shoved her. “Are you ever gonna shut up?”
“What?” Sonata asked, pouting. She rubbed her arm a few times before a look of realization came over her. “Oh, right. Killing people is illegal.”
“Who cares what she says? It’s too late for anyone to stop us,” Adagio said, a demonic grin festering on her face. “You humans are obsessed with eating fish—obsessed with eating us! We’re avenging our kinfolk, one city at a time, starting with Canterlot. Soon, all you disgusting sushi-eaters will fall, and our fellow sea creatures will be avenged!”
“More effective than betting on horse races,” Twilight muttered. Sunset shushed her.
Adagio grabbed a vial off the assembly line. “For weeks now, you’ve been doing our work for us, infecting our customers with this: our specially made Secret Sauce.”
Sunset thought of the hundreds of customers she’d served since starting work. Each one with hopes, dreams, families. Had Sunset really doomed them all?
“Yeah?” Sunset tried to keep her voice steady. “And just what’s inside this sauce of yours?”
“A poison deadly enough to take down anyone that stands in our way,” said Adagio. She chuckled. “Pure chocolate.”
Aria and Sonata giggled. Twilight and Sunset stared.
“...Chocolate,” Sunset repeated.
“That’s right,” Adagio said. “Now do you understand how far we’re willing to go in order to exact our revenge? Soon we’ll open up sushi shops in every major city in this country, and then no one will escape our vengeance!”
While Adagio monologued, Twilight pulled out the vial she had been carrying, uncorked it, and took a sip. “She’s telling the truth,” she said, licking her lips. “It’s just dark chocolate.”
Sunset searched for words, but only managed, “Have none of you ever been to a candy store before? Or, like, a bakery?”
“No,” Sonata said, hanging her head. “Adagio says those places are for obese human babies.”
“I hate to break it to you,” Twilight said, “but chocolate isn’t toxic to humans.”
“What? Of course it is, you idiot.” Adagio scoffed. “Three-thousand years ago, I watched countless ponies die from eating pure chocolate. It clogs their stomachs, stops their hearts!”
“That’s true,” Sunset said, scratching her head. “Ponies can’t eat pure chocolate. They have to mix it with milk, or stuff like that.”
Twilight shook her head. “Even if that’s true, we’re humans, not ponies!”
“So?” Aria asked. “Ponies and humans are, like, basically the same thing.”
“No, they’re not,” Twilight said.
Aria put her hands on her hips. “Do they both have lungs, a stomach, and a heart?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“They’re the same,” Aria said. “Next question.”
Adagio shook her head in pity. “I know it’s hard to accept that you’ll be dead soon, but don’t worry! I’m sure that when we throw your body into the sea, the sharks will honor your sacrifice.”
“There isn’t going to be any sacrifice!” Twilight said. “Chocolate is perfectly—”
“Deadly!” Sunset shouted, slapping her hands over Twilight’s mouth. While Twilight let out muffled shouts and tried to wrest herself free, Sunset cowered. “We’re so sorry for ever trying to stop you, Adagio. We’re powerless compared to you! Please, have mercy!”
“I’m glad you’ve finally come to your senses!” Adagio laughed, keeping her chin high. “It’s probably too late for the Princess here, but you, Sunset Shimmer—you are our loyal employee. Keep infecting our customers with the Secret Sauce, and our kingdom can be yours.”
Sunset paused her cowering. “Do I still get paid in that kingdom?”
“Of course. We reward our slaves.”
“Oh, thank you, thank you!” Sunset said. She bit her tongue hard enough to draw out tears. “I promise, we’ll never bother you again!”
The Dazzlings snickered together, and Adagio nodded. “See to it that you don’t.”
Sunset returned the gesture, then spun around and took her hand off Twilight’s mouth.
Twilight had gone red. “Sunset Shimmer, if you ever gag me like that again, I will—”
“Shush up for a sec,” Sunset whispered. She pulled Twilight to the stairs. “We’re free!”
Sunset raced up the stairs, with Twilight following close behind. They made their way through the house and back out into the sidewalk outside.
“What are you doing?” Twilight asked. “We can’t just let them go!”
Sunset shot her a sideways glance. “Why not? They’re serving people chocolate, Twi. Chocolate! No one is actually being poisoned! Not only that, but I’m still getting paid! Everyone wins.”
“But—you—no!” Twilight shook her head. “We’re the good guys, Sunset. We can’t just act like we’re poisoning people, or even let those freaky girls think they’re poisoning people. We have to be paragons of morality. It’s the principle of it all!”
“The only principle I follow is Celestia,” Sunset said, narrowing her eyes.
“Now is not the time for puns!” Twilight said, throwing up her hands. “Fine. If you don’t care about being a role model, then consider this: the sirens are gonna figure out soon that no one is dying. What then? We have to nip this in the bud now, before they start sending you some real poison.”
Sunset looked away, pursing her lips—but then grumbled and said, “You’re right. Let’s go.”
Twilight smiled and linked her arm with Sunset’s. Together, they walked back up to the front door and rang the doorbell again.
A moment later, Adagio opened the door. She scowled. “I thought you promised never to bother us again.”
“Yeah, I know I did,” said Sunset. “But can we talk for a minute?”
“Who do you think you are,” Adagio asked, “telling us to stop poisoning people? Our fish-brothers and fish-sisters are being slaughtered, and you’d have us just sit idly by?”
Sitting on the couch across from the Dazzlings, Sunset shook her head. “No, that’s not what I’m saying. Twilight and I understand your concern about your... fish-siblings, and are prepared to make you an offer.”
The Dazzlings sat back. “We’re listening,” Adagio said.
“If you agree to shut down your stand and stop poisoning humans,” said Twilight, “then I’ll tell the administration of Canterlot High School to remove all fish products from the lunch menu, and replace them with vegetarian options. I’m the student council president—I can convince them.”
“Student council?” Sonata asked. “I thought you were the Princess of Equestria.”
Twilight blinked. “I got a second job.”
“Unacceptable,” said Adagio. “So a few stupid kids stop eating fish. What does that matter?”
“It won’t just be one school!” Twilight said. “If all goes well at CHS, all the other schools in the city might follow suit and get rid of fish too!”
“And as we all know,” said Sunset, index finger held high, “these stupid kids will one day become stupid adults, who still won’t eat fish. The population of fish-eaters will be wiped out!”
Aria stroked her chin. “Hm. Studies do show that moral values acquired in high school last throughout life, and are passed down to offspring.”
Adagio and Sonata stared at her.
“What?” Aria growled. “Sonata can make cookies, but I can’t study pedagogical theory?”
“So what do you say?” Sunset asked.
The Dazzlings shared a long glance. “Give us a minute,” Adagio said, and the three of them huddled close together, chittering and chattering in hushed voices.
After a moment, Adagio lifted her head. “What if we refuse your offer, and opt to keep poisoning people?”
Sunset shrugged. “I’ll call the cops?”
The Dazzlings huddled up again, but this time only a few seconds passed before they broke apart again. “We accept,” said Adagio.
Twilight and Sunset cheered. “Awesome,” Sunset said, clapping. “That was so much easier than I was expecting it to be!”
“Just remember our promise,” Adagio said. “If I see a single high schooler in the city eating fish, I’m going to stab them. Or make Aria stab them. Or at least give them a mean look.”
“Fine by us,” said Sunset. She turned to leave the room.
Twilight followed after, but stopped in the doorway. “By the by,” she said, “I wanted to ask you girls something.”
“What is it, loser?” Aria asked.
Twilight twiddled her thumbs. “So, your plan was to sell people sushi, in order to get revenge on them for killing fish. But by serving sushi, weren’t you already complicit in killing your brethren? For every sushi you sold, that was one more fish caught and eaten. It’s just supply and demand.”
Silence filled the room.
Adagio stood up. “Aria, get the gun.”
Twilight and Sunset ran away.
The Fall semester at Canterlot High started on a Monday that year, and all week, the students waited anxiously for Fish Friday. When the day finally came, however, hundreds of teenagers filled the lunchroom, raging when they saw the new menu.
“What do you mean, there’s no fish?” Flash Sentry said, looking down at his meat taco. “Fish tacos are, like, the only thing I eat in this cafeteria!”
Next to him in line, Trixie pressed her face against the counter’s glass case. “And where are the fish sticks? Trixie’s stomach demands fish sticks!”
Granny Smith cowered behind the counter, watching the angry mob swell and swell.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Sunset pulled her hoodie over her head. “Is anyone staring? Please tell me they’re not staring.”
“You’re fine.” Twilight scooped up a spoonful of soup, but spilled it across the table when the crowd roared again. “I’m the class president—I’m the one who took away their fish. What do you have to worry about?”
Glowering, Sunset said, “You might be president, but that makes me, like, the First Lady. And when the proletariat rises up, the guillotine doesn’t discriminate.” She slumped in her seat. “And I've got no money to bribe anyone.”
“You had two months to get another summer job! You couldn’t find one?”
“The sushi stand was the perfect gig! What other place is gonna hire some punk without a resume or an interview?” Sunset asked. “It was either sushi stand operator or drug dealer, and I’m too cute for that sort of job!”
“Well, I’m very sorry,” Twilight said, patting Sunset’s head. “But we did the right thing! We stopped a group of evil masterminds, saved the city from being poisoned, and introduced healthy vegetarian options to the school’s menu. We’re heroes!”
From the crowd, someone threw a salad at Twilight’s head. Ranch dressing splattered across her hair and dripped down her nose.
Sunset sighed. “I blame capitalism.”
