Scarecrow: The story of a hero.

"Witnesses state that....on route to Manehatten....three casualties...taken to unknown location..."

The words seemed to blur in Scootaloo's mind. Her face, her hooves, all numb. The events from the train played in her mind, over and over again, like a movie. She remembered it well, it was obvious. She let out a groan as she tried to move, and struggled to do so, as she could barely feel her own body. The news reporter on the television droned on about the events she already knew of. everything seemed stretched, distorted, and echoing. She soon managed to sit up and look around, rubbing her head. She was in what seemed like a makeshift bedroom, within the upper level of a warehouse, in a sort of office. There was an older TV on a desk, as well as a meal on a milk crate next to the bed she rested on. She thought, and as she did so, she felt her cheek. There were no stitches, nor bandage or anything else she could think of. There was, however, a scar.

She could hear voices outside the door. Some were familiar, others were completely unknown. She listened as much as she could, but it didn't take to long for a headache to develop. She stretched out her hooves and yawned, before getting out of the makeshift bed, which was really just a mattress on the floor. As she looked around, she spotted her mask on the door handle, and her hoodie on the floor, near the door. Her hearing was becoming clearer by the second. By now, she was able make out a total of three voices, all mares. As she stepped out onto the metal balcony outside the office, with was held above the warehouse floor. The warehouse itself had been made into a makeshift home. Along the wall to the right of her, a kitchen had been built. Directly ahead was a sort of living room, with a large flat screen TV, a small table, and an L-shaped, brown leather couch.

On the couch was a white mare, Vinyl Scratch, the DJ from before. Next to her was Derpy, who wore a black eye patch as she lay sideways on the couch, staring at the TV, as well as Vinyl. Behind the couch was Fluer De Lis, watching the television with the two who were sitting. At a dining table, which resembled a booth from an old diner, was Trixie, wearing a pair of glasses as she read a newspaper.

Suddenly, two hooves landed on her sides, as a voice yelled in her ear. Scootaloo jumped with a scream, darting forward in pure fear, before turning to face the attacker. This time, however, there was no mare. There was, however, a vaguely familiar stallion. A stallion with a golden goat, caramel mane, and emerald green eyes. A stallion that Apple Bloom and her older sister knew all too well.

"Braeburn, stop messing with the new kid!" Vinyl's voice rang out, as she was now standing, facing the balcony and giving the stallion a cold stare. She looked to Scootaloo and smiled, walking over to the set of spiraled stairs behind Scootaloo. Braeburn simply hopped down onto a pile of boxes, walking over to Vinyl's previous spot on the large couch. Within moments, Scootaloo was face to face with Vinyl, once again. She moved next to the filly and spoke.

"Sleep well?" Vinyl chuckled and patted Scoots' back, leading her to the stairs. "Come on. I'll officially introduce you to everyone, and help you get settled in."

Meanwhile, back in Ponyville.

"Sweetie Belle! Sweetie Belle, where are you?" Rarity shouted throughout the boutique, her voice whining like it normally would. Upstairs, in Sweetie Belle's room, the filly of the same name was packing a small bag, which included a flash light, a map of the apple orchards, and a pocket knife, for self defense. Rarity shouted louder, but Sweetie Belle simply ignored her. She could hear the mare's hoofsteps moving up the stairs. As her door opened, Sweetie Belle turned and kicked the bag into the nearest hiding spot, before assuming an innocent act as Rarity stepped through the door.

"Sweetie Belle, what are you doing? You need to get cleaned up, we have an important dinner party to get to!" Sweetie Belle couldn't help but wince at the idea. It was fashion party, one where Rarity was going to meet her Manehatten friend, Coco Pommel. The only other fillies or colts that were expected to show up were the stuck up rich ones, and the models who were going to show off new clothing lines on a runway. Sweetie Belle hated going to these event's. to put it lightly. But no matter what she pleaded, or how she did so, it was always the same answer.

"Come on, Sweetie Belle! Who knows, you could find your cutie mark!" Rarity said as she looked through Sweetie Belle's closet, looking for the uncomfortable dress Sweetie was to wear to the event. Sweetie had to think of a lie, a good one, and quickly. Suddenly, the filly managed to find one, and just in time.

"N-no! I can't! I mean, i promised Apple Bloom that i would spend the night in the tree house with her, just because Scootaloo is gone." She smiled, her lie seeming to be flawless in her own mind. Rarity gave her a long, skeptical look, before sighing heavily.

"Okay, Sweetie Belle, fine. Go play with Apple Bloom. But, I want you home by noon tomorrow, or you'll be modeling my next clothing line." Sweetie Belle gave a pretend salute, waiting for Rarity to leave the room, before going back to her bag. She ripped it open and quickly grabbed a slip of paper from the desk behind her. On the paper was a list, displaying the items she had left to place in her bag. She checked off as many items as she could, before hearing Rarity leave the house. She zipped the bag up tight, before leaving the house, being sure to lock the windows and doors before leaving. She began to walk towards Apple Orchards, as a memory played over and over in her head. The black eyes, the sharp teeth. The beast she had seen weeks ago was out here, somewhere, and she was going to be the one to catch it.

Hours had passed at this point, and she was walking blindly through the woods. Every now and then, she would spot something dart behind a tree or a boulder, but nothing to confirm what she was seeing. It was around 12 p.m. at this point, to her knowledge. Her eyes were starting to get very heavy, and her hooves were sore. Suddenly, she spotted something just ahead. A shadowed figure, standing in the distance. it was facing to her right, motionless. She slowly began to creep closer. Until suddenly, it turned its head, looking straight to her. Sweetie Belle froze in pure horror, as the sight before her remained. The figure had no eyes, just...holes. Black, staring holes. Its teeth were jutting out from every angle, stuck in a permanent scream as it stared on. Before she knew it, Sweetie Belle was running away from it, panting and nearly in tears. Every time she would look back, it would be in the same position, staring. Soon, She had made it to a clearing, slowing to a stop. the moonlight illuminated the area, but the woods remained dark. She turned in a circle, looking around, only to see darkness. However, the more she looked...the more she became scared. Everywhere she looked, she saw nothing but darkness. With one more turn, she froze again, fear hitting her mind like a sledgehammer.

There it was. Standing only feet away from her was the beast she had hoped to find, staring her dead in the face, snarling as it crouched, ready to strike. She backed away slowly, only to hear a massive, screeching roar, before her vision went black.

Hours later, Sweetie Belle awoke with a shock, looking around. She wasn't at home, that was the first thing the noticed. She was, however, in a field of tall grass, which swayed lightly in the early morning. There was calm silence in the air as she stood, stretching. She was filthy from the forest mud. She didn't remember much from the previous night, and her entire body felt like a massive ball of pain. With every step, she seemed to groan in a tired pain. She walked forward, towards the apple orchards in the distance.

Suddenly, an image flashed before her eyes. It was the image of some sort of mask, lying in a pool of mud and rain. It flashed quickly in her head, with no previous memory of such a mask. All she could remember about the mask was that she felt as if she needed it, a heavy feeling of desire flooding her mind, growing stronger as she thought about the mask. Suddenly, another image. This time, however, it was of the masked mare, the one from the bank, and the one she saw on the news a few days ago. The short mare, the one the news reporter would call a new name. One that she couldn't help say to herself.

"Scarecrow..." She would whisper, as she stood motionless in the field. The mask she so desired was on Scarecrow's face. She needed that mask. Her conscious told her many times, over and over, that she must steal the mask from this new hero. Images flashed before her eyes, of blood, claws shredding through the mare's body, and the taste of blood tickling her mouth. Sweetie Belle knew what she wanted to do. She knew what she needed from Scarecrow. She wanted her dead.

She began growl. She didn't know why, nor how she was doing so, but she let her growling voice out. Her hooves and back began to sting in an immense amount of pain. Her growl got louder as she began to clench her teeth, which she could feel distorting, stretching from her gums slowly and painfully. Suddenly, something broke the skin, sending out a massive burning sensation through her body as, one by one, black, razor sharp spines began to slice out of her back, ripping her skin open as every other backbone in her body began to sprout a spike. As soon as it began, it stopped, before the pain quickly moved to her hooves. Her entire hoof began to deform, as the world around her began to change as well. The scents became more defined. She could see every detail in the apple trees, which were hundreds of feet ahead, before she began to see nothing but red. The pain became worse and worse as minutes passed, before suddenly, she felt nothing once more. She looked to her hooves, and they remained the same. She moved a hoof to her back, and nothing had changed. However, all but one thing remained. The images, and her thoughts.

She knew one thing at this point, and that thing rang like a bell in her mind. She wanted that damn hero dead, and she felt that nothing would keep her from her goal. She began to laugh to herself, louder and louder, before digressing to a simple chuckle.

"You're mine, Scarecrow...Ready or not, here I come."