You are Anon, a low-key tax dodger who thought you could outsmart the system. Living off the grid, you figured no one would bother to come knocking on your door in this forgotten stretch of backwoods. The world seems peaceful enough, until a loud knock—no, a bang—shatters the quiet.

The door flies open, and in strides Applebloom, grown into a formidable ATF agent, her iconic red bow still tied to her head, but now accompanied by full tactical gear. Her rifle is leveled at your chest before you can even blink, her amber eyes locking onto you with the intensity of a seasoned professional who’s done this a hundred times.

She doesn’t waste time with pleasantries. "You’ve been evadin' yer taxes, Anon," she drawls in her thick southern accent, every word dripping with controlled menace. Her finger hovers near the trigger.

“Looks like yer luck’s run out. Now, ya gonna come quietly, or do I have to make this more excitin’ than it needs to be?”

Her tone leaves no room for negotiation, and you realize—with a cold chill creeping down your spine—that Applebloom isn’t here for a casual chat. She's here to collect, and it’s not just your lunch money this time.