//------------------------------// // PANIC: Assassination via Cuisine // Story: The Basement // by PearlescenT //------------------------------// “Ooooh, that was veery tasty!” Pinkie Pie set the plate down on the table with a loud clang, and then licked her lips in pure satisfaction. “You guys are incredible chefs! More - give me more!” Wing looked to her partner - the patisserie, chef of this… seven course meal, and expert on unorthodox assassination methods - and glared at her. Horn looked to her partner - master planner, con-artist, trickster, and all-around charismatic infiltrator - and glared back with even more intensity. “One second, please, Miss.” With that, Horn dragged Wing by the hoof and stormed back into the kitchen. The door slammed shut with a satisfying thud. The moment the door closed, Horn and Wing immediately let go of their shapeshifted forms. Wing hissed at Horn, but her expression was interrupted by a chitinous hoof to the neck. The back of her head hit the wall as she was pinned back against a kitchen counter. “Wing! What the hell?!” Horn’s hoof put more pressure onto her changeling friend. “How have you not killed her yet?” “Well, what should I do? I didn’t think she could eat over three kilograms worth of sugar and icing!” Wing slapped the oppressive hoof aside, and then made her way to the disastrous array of pots and pans, huffing all the while. “You see this? The pans are all glued with sugar! It’s so damn sticky I could call it glue-cose! If you think that dish wasn’t enough to kill a pony, then you’re so wrong. I’ve killed an entire hall of ponies with a third of what we’ve served!” “Ohhh, Queen Chrysalis will be super mad at you.” Wing drove her hoof across the occupied stovetop, sending the pans crashing onto the floor. “Well, she’s not here, is she - so let’s just try ONE more dish.” “We’re out of pans.” Wing looked back to glare at Horn before realizing that she was right. With a groan, she whizzed around the room, looking for more cooking apparati. All she could find was a single non-stick skillet. “Here. This will do.” She tossed the pan onto the stovetop, then set it to max heat. “What ingredients do we have left?” Horn looked into the bag that they brought with them - the ‘patisserie assasination’ bag, as Wing loved to call it. “We…’re out of cyanide, we’re out of icing, we’re out of flour. We have… a kilo of lemon left, along with some instant pancake batter, and we have mayo.” “Mayo?” “Yeah. Mayo, ketchup, basil.” Horn looked at the only chef in the room, and said, “I don’t think you can cook anything with this.” Wing looked back and raised her eyebrow. “Oh, is that a challenge?” A devilish smirk crept up her face. Horn shrugged. “Nothing else we’ve made has killed her. You think this last one is gonna work? Let’s just give up, Wing.” “No. What did we try last time, again?” “A cyanide-laced, soy-sauce-filled omelette with a medium rare steak marinated in pool ammonia and Hoofalette dry wine. Topped with two kilograms of icing. Yeah, two. That’s like, six cans or something.” Wing shook her head. “Okay. One more time. Let’s make the most horrific dish imaginable.” With wings buzzing and hooves deftly moving, she brought up the pony burger patties, the mayo, the ketchup, the lemon, and the sugar, all onto the kitchen island. “We… are going to make something so horrific, Pinkie will die - not of indigestion or poisoning, mind you - but of pure shock.” “Yeaaaah, if the last four dishes hadn’t shocked her, I find it hard to believe this one will.” Wing hummed as she cooked, using the sound of her voice and the sizzling on the pan to ignore her partner’s disturbingly unsupportive voice. She was annoyed. No, enraged, even. Actually - peeved might be the most extreme word she could use to describe her current situation. Nopony else had ever failed to buckle down and die under her concoctions, and after the first three proper(ly poisonous) dishes were promptly ignored, she had already lost all inhibition. With a dash of magic from her horn, Wing finished the dish. “Ta-dah,” she said, presenting it onto a platter in front of Horn. “WING! WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!” “Oh! This is my ‘I-give-up’ dish. It’s a pony burger patty with a nice mayo filling,-” “-what the hell-” “-served alongside lemon pancakes dipped in soy sauce, chili oil, and dressed in even more mayo-” “-what the fu-” “-and, to top it all off, it’s got basil dressing with ketchup on the side and non-scented cleaning detergent-” “WING. This isn’t even FOOD.” Wing chuckled. “Oh, I know. It’s not meant to be.” Her ears perked up, and then, quickly, “Shapeshift back,” she added. The door slammed open to reveal a rather excited Pinkie Pie. She looked delighted to see the two ponies in this room, but more importantly - she looked at the poison on the platter like a predator did to its prey. “Thanks, girls. I’ll take it from here!” With that, she took the plate by the hoof, and swallowed it all down. Horn and Wing’s jaws dropped. “Wh- wh- what- how?!” “Oh, girls, you’re all so silly!” The pink pony picked up a pan. “HORN!” Wing reached out to push her partner away, but already, the pan was too swift. A solid hit to Horn’s head knocked her out. “You sick… creature! What the hell are you?!” “I should ask that to you, silly! I know you’re changelings!” Wing’s jaw dropped. Again. “You- you-” “Oh, and I asked Twilight to add a catalyzer spell into my stomach. I can process anything I eat for a full day now!” The pink pony, pan in hoof, moved closer. “Soooo… I’m like, really really really energized right now.” The circular shadow of a non-stick skillet moved over Wing’s head, and Wing could only cower in response. “Will you stay here and cook for me?”