Anon VS Anon (Prologue, Cancelled)

>Be Anon, standing in Canterlot High.
>Six minutes before the best day of your life goes to shit.
>Aria just turned the corner on the far end of the hall.
>She isn’t looking at you.
>Your heart is fluttering weakly.
>Every night for months you worried about this moment.
>Wondering if you’d played your part well enough.
>You fell into Equestria a quarter-year ago, and found it was years behind the show, still in S4.
>It took you way too long to realize what this meant.
>Rainbow Rocks hadn’t happened yet.
>That’s all it took to foster your dream.
>You were going to meet the Dazzlings and save them.
>(And wife them.)
>It took days of trading letters with the Princesses.
>Nights of exercise.
>Lies, diplomacy and secret ‘preparations’
>Even letting Tirek capture you so Twilight could beat him properly and build the castle.
>It all had to be perfect.
>Some days you were sure it wouldn’t work.
>But then came Sunset’s distress call, and Twi brought you through the portal as her +1.
>Sorry, Spike.
>And after all of it, there she was.
>Your favorite Dazzler.
>You almost forget everything you’ve planned out up to now, about to go talk to her.
>Steady on, Anon.
>You’re halfway there.
>It was a free period today, and kids had more time to wander the halls between class.
>Friggin’ rich people schools.
>Twilight was off with the rest of the main characters doing... something or other.
>To be honest you didn’t remember what they did in RR until the end.
>Any memory you did have was lost months ago.
>You did know this was after “Battle” and before “Under Our Spell”, though.
>You trail her through the hall, pretending to be going to class.
>No one notices you, which is a relief.
>You’re a little old for high school, and even if it was born from desperate practice, the muscle under your jacket makes you look like you don’t belong here.
>You notice the other two down the hall after another corner, and hang back.
>You take another glance at Aria while you pretending have trouble opening a random locker.
>She and Adagio are talking about something, and it looks terse. Sonata’s with them, and...
>Is she waving at you?
>“Hey, Anon!”
>Shit.
>Everyone’s looking at you.
>Especially the Sirens.
>Aria facepalms and walks over to you.
>Should you explain yourself?
>Should you just make your case and state your offer right now?
>”What are you still doing here? Are you done already?”
>She’s looking at you with her arms crossed.
>Her eyes penetrate your soul and do nasty things to its prostate.
>What color are they, tyrian?
>Purpureus?
>Phlox?
>Mulberry?
>”Anon?”
>She waves a hand in front of your face.
S-sorry, I, uh… Hey.
>”Did you sabotage them yet or not?”
Who?
>She sighs and rolls her eyes, then realizes people are staring.
>Grumbling, she grabs your arm and drags you to the others.
>Sonata looks excited to see you, and Adagio’s neutral.
>This is concerning since they aren’t supposed to know you were coming.
>“Hey, Anon! Did it work out?”
>The most minute facet of Sonata’s body language is still blindingly bright
>“I don’t know.”
>Aria lets go of your wrist.
>Her grip leaves your skin the same color as hers.
>Adagio stares at you while you rub it, and quietly shakes her head.
>”This isn’t him.”
>Aria looks from her to you and back, skeptically.
>”Who is he, then?”
>Adagio sighs.
>”I don’t -know-, Aria, maybe we should -ask him-.”
>They both turn to you expectantly.
>This is not remotely what you wanted to happen.
>You get a grip and adapt.
Hey. I’m Anon, I’ve come here from Eque-
>”Hey, Anon! Anon!”
>Sonata’s waving her arms at someone further down the hallway.
>There’s a man walking down in a suit jacket.
>Same green skin.
>Same hair.
>Same suave looks.
>His clothes are nicer, because his tailor probably had experience with humans.
>His walk is more confident, because he’s been at this school for a while.
>He doesn't belong here.
>And he stares at you, comprehending all the things you do.
>His expression goes from bewildered to pissed, and he shoulders through a few students to get closer.
>All the protocols your brain has on-hand for looking in mirrors are firing.
>You know he owns the name Anon just as rightfully as you do.
>You can feel in your bones that he’s your mother’s kid.
>You watch like a passenger in your body as he steps up.
>When he decks you, you hear a snippet of a song forever trapped in your head...
>”Oh, what’s so wrong with a little competition?”
>And then you’re kissing tile.
>You are Anon.
>You are not alone.
>And the best day of your life just went to shit.