[FR] The Best Human Contest - Part 7

>You are now Slasher Science
>You are currently sprinting faster than mach kenyans with jetpacks
>And you are still in second
>But thats ok, because now there are only five of you
>You have no idea where Picklehead went, but you don't care as long as hes not in the race
>Ahead of you runs Fagdude
>He is only slightly ahead of you, and this is because you are pacing yourself
>You and Fagdude have entered the part of the race that goes behind the alleys of Ponyville
>You are secluded, nop0ny or Namefag in sight, beings as you left 4PP138100M, Fractured Flow and Badpacing in the dust
>You feel around in your pocket for the familiar coldness, then find purchase
>Sliding the scissors from earlier out of your pocket, you gain a burst of speed
>Coming up right behind him, you thrust the scissors forward
>You hear a *thump* as you jog away, down the track

>You are now Etiquette
>Scratch that, you are now royally fucked
>You know Celestia had a zero tolerance policy about guns anywhere in Equestria
>She hadn't been happy that you, along with a few other namefags, had them with you when you arrived here in the first place
>Now you've just tried to kill Picklehead
>And you would have, had you actually loaded a bullet and not a fucking blank!
>Wait though, Celestia would see it your way, no?
>Picklehead had assaulted you over an inanimate object. Surely she would think he was mad and lock him up, right?
>Either way, you head off towards where the finish line is
>Being in a public place would be good
>Picklehead wouldn't try anything there, would he?

>You are now Badpacing
>You have now just entered the alley part of the race
>You knew Slasher and Fagdude were way ahead of you, at this point you're just trying not to finish last
>As you round a corner between two shops, you see a human form laying on the track
>Slowing down to a stop, you realize its Fagdude!
>Blood seeps from a wound in his back, but he is not breathing
>Jesus Christ, this is terrible
>You liked Fagdude, he was a good friend to you
>You had to go tell somep0ny about this
>Whoever did this had to be brought to justice!
>You run forward, towards the end of the track, leaving Fagdude on the track

>You are now Slasher Science
>And you've just rounded the last turn!
>You see the finish line, get one more burst of spped, and run through it
>Ponies cheer, and Fluttershy and the Mayor come on to the track to congratulate you
>"Nice going Slasher! You've won the race, and the your new house!"
>FS:"And I'm going to be your roomate!"
>What?
>Oh well, you could 'take care' of her later
>For right now you just smile and wave, reveling in your accomplishment
>Nothing could ruin this moment
>Until Badpacing comes running up screaming bloody murder
>No, you didn't mean the expression bloody murder
>He literally was screaming bloody murder
>You forgot to hide the body

>You are now Picklehead42
>And you are seething
>You have no clue what to do
>You need to avenge Jeremy
>The love of your life, the dill to your pickle, the brine to your-
>No picklehead, stop.
>No tears, he wouldn't want that
>Did Etiquette want his precious Rarity?
>Because if he even loved Rarity a fourth, neigh, a sixteenth as much as you loved Jeremy, then he did
>You knew what you had to do
>You didn't have to Kill Etiquette
>You had to kill what he loved

[1 minute before Badpacing runs up]
>You are now Fluttershy
>It looks like you and Slasher were meant to be!
>You couldn't wait to move in with him!
>Then you had an idea
>You wanted to look nice for when he first got to the house
>So you walk over to Rarity
Rarity, do you think I can go to the shop and grab something to put on for Slasher's moving in?
>"Why sure Darling, I beleive I left a nice summer dress on a mannequin upstairs, you can take that"
Thanks!
>You break away from the crowd and head towards the boutique

>You are now Picklehead again
>You've already broken into Carousel Boutique
>You've spilled gallons of gasoline all over the floors and wall
>You've left one stick of Braeburn Brand Dynamite inside, attached to a coiled wire with a comically sized push-box detonator
>You'll never understand why that pony began selling dynamite, but thats a quandary for another time
>You now stand about two hundred yards away from the shop, around the back
>All the shades are shut, but you would know if anyp0ny were inside
>And speeking of which, a sillouette appears at the upstairs window
>From the distance, you can tell its a pony
>Knowing that its probably rarity, you prepare
>You take a deep breath, and push down the lever of the control box
>Three seconds later, a booming roar defeans you, and what was once the boutique is now a massive pile of burning rubble
>You leave the scene, not thinking about the carnage behind you, but of Jeremy