Daring Scootsby FritziChaptersMeet Knit StitchMeet the CrusadersMeet Derpy HoovesMeet Shelly and ShortyBurglary Just Got a Lot CuterMeet Knit StitchThe chilly room was slowly illumined by a golden beam of pure sunlight, which cascaded through the window and immediately warmed the air. The bright morning rays prompted a young filly, tangled amidst vibrant afghans and bedsheets, to emerge from her tranquil slumber. Smooth orange hooves rubbed somnolent eyes as Scootaloo let out a tremendous yawn to shame a lion. In an attempt to extricate herself from her covers, the sleepy filly rolled out of bed and onto the floor. Groaning, Scootaloo shook away the last vestiges of enervation and stood up. Scootaloo could not recall the last occasion she had felt so thoroughly rested. Now that the sun was up and the day had begun, Scootaloo began to bounce with excitement at the prospect of finally earning her long sought-after cutie mark. Today’s my day, she asseverated to herself with the confidence of a camel. After brushing her cerise mane and checking her wings for broken feathers, Scootaloo trotted downstairs to fix herself some breakfast. Halfway through a bowl of steamed oats, Scootaloo heard a knock on her front door. She hopped down from her stool and bounded down the hallway to greet her visitor. Just as she expected, her elderly neighbor and informal caretaker Knit Stitch stood in the entrance waiting to greet her. “Mrs. Stitch!” Scootaloo’s bright eyes radiated with the mutual amity the two ponies shared. She took a deep breath, and then exclaimed, “Mrs. Stitch, I made us both some steel cut oats and I was thinking we could eat them right now and then I was just wondering, could I maybe meet Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle and go crusading later on, ‘cause you know it’s only a matter of time ‘till one of us gets our cutie mark, and I really think today is the day, you know?” Scootaloo’s ebullient fusilade of conversational ramblings faded as the filly gasped for breath upon her doorstep. Knit Stitch smiled fondly at her young charge. With her knobbly knees, sagging cheeks, and bony frame, the elderly pony appeared frail and debilitated from her many years of fulfilling life. However, Scootaloo knew that there was plenty of vigor left in her caretaker. Certainly, not many senior ponies would have taken responsibility for a newly orphaned filly, even if she happened to be the neighbor’s kid. But now, Knit Stitch couldn’t imagine life without this exuberant orange filly to brighten her every day. Taking her chance to respond while Scootaloo was still winded, Knit Stitch shook her head with comical confusion. “Scootaloo, I don’t know how you can act so surprised to see me considering that I show up for breakfast every day. And of course you may play with your friends, after all your chores are completed.” Scootaloo stared back at Knit Stitch’s lustrous pearl flank and groaned. “Aw, maaaan. I hate doing chores.” She flopped on the ground and covered her eyes with both forelegs, eyes peeking out with a secret grin. Knit Stitch rolled her eyes. “Hush, child, it won’t take you but fifteen minutes to water the plants and maybe tidy up that messy room of yours!” But she could see that Scootaloo was feeling too silly to behave at her behest. “Tell you what kiddo, we can talk more after breakfast. After all, you need plenty of fuel if you’re going to be adventuring with your friends all day.” Scootaloo zipped back inside, followed by the quiet clop clop of the elder’s hooves on the smooth wood floor. Today was going to be special, she was sure of it. Meet the CrusadersThe sleepy town of Ponyville was just beginning to stir. Ponies opened their windows to enjoy the gentle spring breeze, which carried the delightful aroma of pine, grass shoots, and apple blossoms all the way from Sweet Apple Acres. Birds chirped in the magnolia trees overhead, interrupted only by the faint sounds of Ponyville’s residents going about their early morning business. This idyll was shattered immediately as Scootaloo tore through the town by scooter, wings buzzing furiously. She let out a boisterous “Whoa!” as she swerved to narrowly avoid a cart of pastries, and hollered “Hey!” as she tore past an irate family of beavers, nearly running them over. “Sorry!” she called back, but there was no stopping now, not when she was so close to her destination. Flapping as fast as she could towards Sweet Apple Acres, Scootaloo made a hairpin turn onto the beaten dirt path to the CMC clubhouse. Intent on attempting at least one super awesome trick before she arrived, Scootaloo gave a tremendous flap of her wings and pushed off the ground. She swung her scooter over her head in midair, then performed a backflip while simultaneously knocking the back wheel with her hoof to send the deck swinging around for 360 degrees of rotation. Her leap carried her over the thick tree root blocking the dirt path, before she landed with only the slightest flutter of her wings for balance. “Haha, yes!” exclaimed Scootaloo triumphantly. That was a little stunt she called the Dragon Whip, and it had taken months to perfect. The clubhouse in sight, Scootaloo allowed herself to decelerate before screeching to a halt directly in front of Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle, who were both profoundly impressed at Scootaloo’s latest display of acrobatic agility. “Holy moly, Scootaloo, that was the spunkiest scooter trick I’ve ever seen anypony do in my whole entire life!” Apple Bloom burst out immediately. Still breathing hard but rather pleased with herself, Scootaloo shot back, “Oh yeah? How many other ponies do you know that trick on scooters?” “Eh…” Apple Bloom scrunched her brow. “None, but if there were any, I bet you’d be the best. I ain’t never seen anything so impressive.” “Or so audacious,” added Sweetie Belle. “You could have seriously wiped out on that one.” Scootaloo gave a fearless laugh. “Yeah, right! If Rainbow Dash isn’t afraid to push herself to her limits, then neither am I!” She tried to flash an indomitable smile, but wound up looking squinty instead. Apple Bloom stifled a laugh. “Riiiight. So anyways, what do you Crusaders want to do today?” Apple Bloom inquired of her friends. “What?” asked Sweetie Belle. “I thought you had something in mind. That’s why we all met here, remember?” “We always meet here,” countered Apple Bloom. “And anyways, I’m sick and tired of always havin’ to come up with all the brilliant Crusading ideas.” She crossed her forelegs and sat with a pout. “Well, I say we check out what’s happening in Ponyville,” suggested Scootaloo sagaciously. “Lately, there’s been all sorts of hubbub with monster attacks, magic duels, and reigns of chaos, like, every week.” “Actually,” said Sweetie Belle, “I was wondering if you noticed that life has become a lot more exciting and dangerous since Twilight came to town. Plus our sisters go on a lot more perilous missions. But yeah, somepony in Ponyville might need our help.” “Well, it sounds like it’s settled then.” Apple Bloom, the natural leader, sat up with a determined countenance. “Let’s head ‘em up and move em’ out.” And with that, the three fillies galloped back up to Ponyville, each yearning for a Cutie Mark of their own. Meet Derpy Hooves“I hope we run into a really scary monster.” The Crusaders were in high spirits heading to Ponyville on the bright spring day. Memories of past Crusading mishaps disregarded, Scootaloo knew that at least one of the trio was bound to discover some spectacular hidden penchant, and maybe even their cutie mark. Scootaloo allowed her imagination to wander, envisaging the Crusaders engaged in a ferocious battle against some savage beast invading Ponyville. Interrupting Scootaloo’s reverie, Apple Bloom lowered her head and gave an exasperated sigh. “Don’t even say things like that, Scootaloo. That’s just askin’ for trouble.” “Well,” Sweetie Belle began, “I think we could definitely take on at least a timber wolf right now. After all, I’ve been practicing my magic and Apple Bloom can buck and lasso. And we all saw how quick Scootaloo is in the air.” Not paying attention, Scootaloo remarked, “If only I could fight alongside Rainbow Dash. If only…” Meanwhile, Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom had begun to argue. “All I’m sayin’ is that I think we ought to be a touch bit more careful with our Crusadin’ business. Pickin’ fights with monsters is way out of our league.” “And all I’m saying,” Sweetie Belle squeaked, “is that if Rarity can fight monsters, then so can we! I mean, this is Rarity we’re talking about.” Engaged in their usual friendly banter, the Crusaders arrived in the outskirts of the town in no time at all. Underneath an old basswood on a desolate boulevard sat familiar pegasus. Derpy Hooves sat with her face resting on her forelegs, appearing rather dejected. She wore her mailmare’s hat and her mail bag was slung over a shoulder, but she was surrounded by dozens of various letters and parcels which were strewn haphazardly amid the dead leaves. Crying softly, Derpy was so disconsolate that she showed no sign of recognition as the fillies approached. Only when Scootaloo gave a hearty, “Hey, Derpy, what’s up?” did Derpy raise her head with a sniff. Showing a bit more tact, Sweetie Bell ventured, “Hi there, Derpy. Are you having some trouble with the mail delivery?” Derpy gave a big snuffle and blinked at the filles, but said nothing. “Derpy!” said Apple Bloom. “Are you OK?” Derpy remained taciturn. “‘Cause,” began Apple Bloom gently, “we Crusaders were just lookin’ to try some new activities today and if you would do us the honor of lettin’ us help you with your route today…” “Really?” asked Derpy in a more spirited tone, some reticence abandoned. “You’d do that?” “Well duh,” said Apple Bloom. “We would love it if you taught us a little about mail delivery. We could even get our cutie marks.” “Ohh,” sighed Derpy, relief washing over her face. “I could really use some help. I just don’t know what went wrong. See, there I was, delivering the mail like I always do, when I realized I mixed up a delivery. I left a package for 264 Main St. She gestured to the nearest house on her left, where the tarnished brass numbers 264 were nailed to the front siding. The front porch was bare. The Cutie Mark Crusaders glanced at one another. “Uhhh…” began a perplexed Scootaloo, “what’s the problem then?” “Yeah,” added Sweetie Belle, isn’t that the right house for the delivery?” “No, no, no!” Derpy wailed, “This isn’t 264 Main St. It’s 264 Mane St.” She spelled both street names aloud in order to differentiate. “OK,” said Apple Bloom, “well, that’s just fine. It looks like they already took the package in. Just explain the mix up and get it back. Everypony makes mistakes now an’ again.” Derpy moaned, “I already tried that. The stallion that answered the door pretended like it was his package all along. But I know it wasn’t, see?” She handed the Crusaders a file which contained notes about some of the more expensive package deliveries. Sweetie Belle slipped out the right delivery sheet, and sure enough, the package was supposed to be delivered to a house on Main Street with the matching address numbers halfway across town. “There’s no mistaking it, he has the wrong package.” said Apple Bloom. “Did ya show him this? What’d he say?” Derpy was looking more and more upset. “He s-said that he was expecting this package and that it must have b-been a typo on the mailing address. Then he… he…” “What??” demanded all three fillies at once. “He accused me of trying to steal his mail!” cried Derpy. “Then he shoved me off the porch onto the ground. And he spilled all my ma-a-ail.” Derpy started sobbing, deeply aggrieved. Apple Bloom gasped furiously. Sweetie Belle gave a squeal of outrage. Scootaloo was so greatly affronted for Derpy’s sake that she started to float, buzzing her wings lividly. The Crusaders had never heard of anypony treating any other pony so horridly, and the great sense of injustice fueled their indignation. “Don’t worry, Derpy!” hollered Apple Bloom, startling the others. “We’re gonna help you in any way we can.” “Yeah,” commiserated Sweetie Belle. “That guy sounds like nothing but a big fat meanie.” “Crusader huddle!” glowered Scootaloo. The three fillies grouped together and began to conspire. Scootaloo brought her front hooves together and began a full-blown soliloquy. “Alright, girls. A great blow to democracy and all things fair and just has just been dealt today, in our home town of Ponyville. Now, we could sit idly by, and let some complete scumbag get away with the most atrocious of deeds, or we can stand and fight like Crusaders! We could wallow in should-haves, when we should be embracing the can-dos! We can ignore this great offense to an innocent mare, or we can…” “Uh, Scootaloo? I think we get it,” interrupted Apple Bloom. “We gotta teach this guy a lesson. But firstly, what exactly was in this package? It musta been pretty valuable for someone to want to keep it for themselves so bad.” Sweetie Belle, who had been looking over the delivery forms in the mean time, suddenly gave a gasp of astonishment. “What?” asked Apple Bloom and Scootaloo. In answer, Sweetie Belle shoved the product description form in their faces. “Look!” “Eh, what are we looking at?” asked Apple Bloom. “The item was a ruby encrusted tiara!” said Sweetie Belle. “So what?” Scootaloo was confused. “That doesn’t make any sense. Rubies are super common. That tiara couldn’t have cost more than 20 bits.” “Nooo,” whined Sweetie Belle, distraught. “This isn’t any old tiara. It was made over a hundred years ago by a brilliant artisan by the name of Gold Leaf. He specialized in jewelry and other adornments, and of course Rarity is obsessed with his work. Apparently this guy made the most brilliant designs by basing his work off of the patterns of nature. But barely any of his work is still around today. A tiara made by Gold Leaf would cost at least…” “Yes??” prompted Apple Bloom and Scootaloo. “...at least 10,000 bits.” Apple Bloom’s jaw hit the ground, and Scootaloo almost fainted. “That’s why we need to get this back at any cost. If this is the real deal, then we need to deliver it to the right pony. Otherwise, Derpy could get in big trouble,” concluded Sweetie Belle. The three fillies glanced at Derpy, who was laying on the ground, pawing at the dirt with a hoof. The Crusaders broke the huddle and approached the downtrodden mare. “OK Derpy, tell ya what,” said Apple Bloom. “You’ve been through enough today. So we just want you to go home and rest up. We can handle this jokester at 264 Mane, plus we’ll finish your mail route for you.” Derpy’s eyes again flooded with tears, but this time, they were of gratitude. “Oh, thank you so much, Crusaders. I don’t even know if that’s allowed, but I am so grateful.” “Anytime Derpy!” affirmed Sweetie Belle. “When the Crusaders make a promise, we always carry through.” “Thank youuuuu!” With a great leap, Derpy lifted off gracefully, then promptly ensnared herself in the branches of the old basswood. “Sorry!” she apologized to the tree before disentangling herself and flying off. “Well Crusaders,” Scootaloo said excitedly. “Looks like we have our work cut out for us. This is our good deed of the day, plus we can get our cutie marks as mailmares!” “Or in public relations,” said Sweetie Belle dubiously as she gave a hesitant glance to the house. Atop the apex of the roof, a crow cawed portentously. Meet Shelly and Shorty“I think that’s all of ‘em,” said Apple Bloom, wiping her brow with a hoof. The Cutie Mark Crusaders had sifted all the loose bits of mail from the leaves, and then organized them by street and address number. It was Sweetie Belle that had suggested the Crusaders divide the letters and packages amongst themselves to save delivery time. After all, it was already well past noon; ponies would be expecting their daily mail at least before sundown. Apple Bloom filled Derpy’s mailbag with the largest of the packages and slung it over her shoulder, while Scootaloo squashed the official postal hat atop her head. “This is perfect!” exclaimed Sweetie Belle, her eyes shining like sapphires. “We’ll have our mailmares’ cutie marks in no time at all.” “Well, yeah,” agreed Scootaloo, “but don’t you think we oughta get that ruby tiara from the jerk in 264 first? She pointed at the large house to their right. “I don’t wanna waste a single second getting that package back to it’s rightful owners. That guy deserves what’s coming to him.” “Scootaloo, I think we need to be a little bit more careful. We need a plan before confronting somepony like him or he could hurt us, or worse!” cautioned a grim Sweetie Belle. “Well, I agree with Scootaloo,” declared Apple Bloom. “If we don’t act soon, who’s stoppin’ him from hiding the goods or selling ‘em, even?” Outnumbered, Sweetie Belle could only let the group drag her along. “Fine,” she groaned, “but I still say we give diplomacy a shot first.” “Of course,” said Scootaloo, adrenalized now that they were finally moving towards a plan of action. “Let’s do this, Crusaders!” The fillies walked up to the doorstep of 264 Mane. The house was rather large even by Ponyville standards, with two full stories and a roomy balcony which protruded over the front porch. A luxurious silver carriage with plush velvet cushioning was parked in the driveway. This was clearly a prosperous pony who valued the distinguished prestige of such a blatant display of opulence. “Ugh,” steamed Apple Bloom. “Where does this schmuck get off in stealing other ponies’ mail? He looks like he could afford to buy half of Ponyville!” “Quiet!” hushed Sweetie Belle as she pounded an ornate door knocker. Knock. Knock. Knock. The ominous thumps echoed across the empty boulevard, resembling the thundering hoofsteps of death. Anxiously, the Crusaders huddled together in the shade of the balcony, dreading the approach of the pony on the other side. The cheerful rays of the afternoon sun could not penetrate the clouds of fear in Scootaloo’s heart. Shrinking away from the entrance, she imagined a fierce pony with a torn leather jacket and a bandana seizing her and shaking her violently for trying to reclaim the tiara. But before she had time to run, to scream, to do anything, the mahogany door swung wide open. “Well, hello there!” greeted a cheerful voice. A young mare the color of egg yolk stood before them, adorned with diamond earrings and an orange bonnet. The curls of her baby blue mane sparkled with glitter, as did the dark shadows of thickly applied eyeliner. Her sleek coat appeared to be well groomed. She beamed at the three fillies like they were old friends. “Oh,” she cooed, “don’t you three look so cute in your little outfits!” She patted Scootaloo on the head roughly, shoving the hat over her eyes. “Honey, the Foal Scouts are here to sell cookies!” she called back into the house. “Actually, ma’am...” began Apple Bloom, but was interrupted by the bubbly mare. “I’m just so pleased that you three girls stopped by. Every year the Scouts came and delivered the most sensational alfalfa cookie dough. And wasn’t it just the cat’s pajamas!” She chuckled. “Everypony was asking me, Shell, where in Equestria did you find such mar-velous cookies? And no one believed me when I told them I just baked them up myself! But then the Scouts stopped coming and I was ever so disappointed.” A shadow crossed her face briefly before lightening up into her usual smile. “But of course you’re here now, aren’t you!” “But…” Sweetie Belle interjected, but Shell wasn’t finished. “Anyhow, listen to me ramble!” She flipped her hair back with a hoof. “Do you still have the chocolate maringues? I’ll take at least ten boxes of those, and…” “EXCUSE ME!” Scootaloo had had enough. The mare blinked and gave the fillies a disconcerted look. “What?” she asked dumbly. “We’re not Foal Scouts! Today we’re mailmares,” elucidated Scootaloo, cheeks flamed with annoyance. “Oh! I…” started the mare. “What’s going on, Shelly?” came a baritone voice from inside the house. A short and scruffy stallion clopped up, joining his wife at the entrance. A few tawny chest hairs poked out between the buttons of his satin olive-colored pajamas. He took off a pair of designer sunglasses and squinted at the Cutie Mark Crusaders. Stepping onto the porch, his shiny amber hair flowed like a golden river in the warm afternoon sun. His thick legs contrasted with his short stature, reminding Scootaloo of a walking footstool. “You,” he said brusquely. “What do you want?” “As I was about to explain,” responded Scootaloo, tilting her chin and trying to sound official, “we are representatives from the official Post Office of Ponyville, and we are here today to address a mail mix-up that happened at your address about an hour ago.” Scootaloo fidgeted, sweating. “We have reason to believe that you received a package at tw- er... 1400 hours today with mail which was not addressed to your house.” At this point her composure broke completely as she became too nervous to inhale. Sweetie Belle picked up on this and said, “So basically, we would like you to return the package that was wrongly to delivered to you. Sir.” She gave him her best innocent smile. The stallion was taken aback. “Do you three work for the post office? Cripes, I’m getting old. And like I told that gray pegasus earlier, the package I received had the item I ordered just a day ago from Canterlot. Hold on, I kept the paperwork.” As the stallion disappeared, Shelly brushed down her bonnet. “Well,” she huffed. “I still think it’s rather discourteous to jump right to business without even getting your names! Why don’t you introduce yourselves.” Scootaloo gulped. The Crusaders hadn’t discussed whether they would disclose their real names. What the situation got hairy and they needed to scram? “I’m… Suave Shoes!” she blurted out quickly. Catching on, Sweetie Belle said, “Yeah, and I’m Curly Tail!” Her voice squeaked at the end. Apple Bloom panicked. “Well, I’m… I’m…” Scootaloo said quickly, “And she’s Zappy Boots!” Charmed, Shell replied, “And I’m Shell. Shelly Fuse. Nice to meet you.” She gave the Crusaders each an enthusiastic hoofshake which left them with sore forelegs. “And you all met my wonderful husband, Shorty!” At this, Apple Bloom snickered. “Short, if you don’t mind!” The stallion returned with an order form in his mouth. “Or Mr. Fuse, if you please.” His voice was slightly muffled by the papers. He spat them out onto the porch for the Crusaders to look. “There! This proves that I mail-ordered the item in question just yesterday from Canterlot. Happy?” “He’s telling the truth,” confirmed Apple Bloom in a shocked voice after giving the form a glance. “But then why…” “Because it was a typo, like I said to that idiot pegasus who tried to steal my package earlier. Now you tell the Postal Service that they’re the ones with the mail mix-up!” Shorty’s mane bristled, his face flustered. “Hold on a minute!” said Sweetie Belle. “You need to give us that package right now! Even if you did order the item, it will be returned once we confirm the mistake back at HQ.” It was the wrong thing to say. “There is no way you are getting your grimy hooves on that package!” Shorty yelled. “I bet you don’t even work for the Postal Service. I bet that stupid grey pegasus put you up to this!” “That’s sort of true,” Scootaloo let slip, then covered her mouth with a hoof hurriedly. “AHA! You’re all fakes. I can’t believe this.” Shorty practically had smoke coming out of his ears, but he also looked nervous to Scootaloo, like he was eager for the fillies to be gone and not investigate the matter further. “This is my mail 100%, and I will not tolerate thieves of any sort. Now get off my property! I have half a mind to call the cops on you three,” he threatened. “Short Fuse! Calm yourself! This is exactly what that doctor was talking about.” Shelly looked apologetic. To the girls, she assured, “He’s not usually like this.” Not mollified, Shorty breathed, “You have exactly three seconds to get off my property before I throw you out. One, two…” The Crusaders needed no further prompting. They scrambled off the porch and ran down the boulevard. Behind them, Shelli and Short Fuse went inside, the latter muttering to himself obstinately. “Tell me I got the wrong package. Fah!” The door was slammed shut. Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle galloped for three blocks before dropping to the ground, panting. “Now I know,” Scootaloo wheezed, “how Derpy felt.” “What do we do, y’all?” Apple Bloom moaned. “We ain’t got no proof that that ain’t his ruby tiara, an’ furthermore, if we don’t fix this up by sundown, then Derpy’s gonna be in for it big time.” “Something felt wrong,” expressed Sweetie Belle. “When Rarity orders her cloths and gems from Canterlot, they take about a week to arrive. The order’s shipped by train to the store, then the Office in Canterlot needs to process the mail and get the order to the right shop. And Rarity always gets her deliveries by express mail, which is the fastest mail delivery system in Equestria, besides dragon, of course.” She giggled. “So there’s no way that guy is telling the truth. It must not be his package!” Apple Bloom shrugged. “All that may be, but that feller wasn’t no liar either. I got the feeling he was hiding somthin’ but not fibbin’ outright.” Scootaloo concurred. “Ok, so we all agree there’s something off about that guy. I don’t know how, but he must have somehow forged that order form. We’ve got to recover that package and get it to the right address, stat.” “Don’t forget about all the other letters!” Sweetie Belle chimed in. “We owe it to Derpy and the rest of Ponyville to complete our rounds, in either rain or sunshine.” She hopped up and brushed the grit out of her mane. “Let’s break for now, Crusaders.” Scootaloo lifted herself from the grimy road and stretched her wings. “And then, we get that package back by any means necessary.” The Crusaders shared a meaningful glance at the implications of this statement. The time for negotiation was over. They would have to resort to more drastic measures. “Any means necessary,” the three fillies vowed doggedly, sharing a steely glance. Burglary Just Got a Lot CuterChapter 5 As Scootaloo trudged along the sunny Alicorn Avenue, she silently berated herself for leaving her scooter at the CMC clubhouse. As it turned out, sticking letters into mailboxes wasn’t quite as action-packed as she had initially anticipated, and the long walks between houses only added to the drudgery. At least I’m on my last letter, she thought optimistically. Dropping it off at a dilapidated hovel which was surrounded by the potent miasma of dead fish, she began the long walk to the Crusaders’ clubhouse, where she had agreed to rendezvous with Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle. Alone with her thoughts, Scootaloo pondered the mystery of the Gold Leaf tiara. The fact was, the Crusaders couldn’t be sure that the tiara didn’t belong to Short and Shelly Fuse. The order form the Crusaders had viewed was evidence enough that Shorty had definitely purchased the item in question. Or was it? Scootaloo knew that an official document couldn’t have been fabricated in such a short time. But Shorty could have anticipated a visit from a PPS representative, especially if the real buyer at 264 Main registered a missing package complaint. Then, assuming the form was fake, why he had chosen yesterday as the date of purchase? It was anypony’s guess, though it could be chalked up to the same stupidity which would inspire a pony to commit mail fraud in the first place. Another issue that ate at Scootaloo was the confrontational nature of Shorty. Was it just his ill-tempered personality, or did he really have something to hide? The Crusaders had to be careful, as irascibility in and of itself was not a crime. Did they have enough evidence to justify further action against the Fuses? Scootaloo couldn’t shake the feeling that they lacked some key information, that they were looking at this all wrong. Reaching the clubhouse, Scootaloo found Applebloom and Sweetie Belle sitting at the table, apparently deliberating over the same dilemmas that Scootaloo had been contemplating. “It just doesn’t make sense,” lamented Apple Bloom of their enigma, flopping out of her chair and onto the ground. “This whole thing. It’s impossible for a Canterlot mail order to arrive next-day, right? So either Shorty’s lyin’ about the order, or it just wasn’t his package to begin with.” “Paradoxical,” mused Sweetie Belle. “Gesundheit,” replied Scootaloo, stepping into the clubhouse. “Oh, hey Scootaloo,” said Apple Bloom glumly, her face flat on the floor. “Did you get your mail all delivered too?” “Yeah,” affirmed Scootaloo, “but I don’t think a mailmare’s cutie mark is the right thing for me. Hey, did either of you get your cutie marks?” “Not quite.” Sweetie Belle rubbed her cheek and said, “I thought I had it there for a moment. I really liked the organizational aspect of delivering letters. Just when I thought that it was my destiny to become a mailmare, I looked down at my flank and saw a mark.” Sweetie Belle could have been describing a trip to the dentist, so was her voice so completely devoid of enthusiasm. “And… that’s a good thing, right?” Scootaloo tentatively inquired, not understanding Sweetie Belle’s bitter dejection. “You tell me,” Sweetie Belle mumbled, raising her flank for Scootaloo to see. The left side of her hindquarters was imbrued by some dark, sticky substance. Ebony pigment blotched her sleek, heavenly white coat and ran down her leg. It almost looked like… “Ink!” Scootaloo laughed with surprise. “Don’t remind me.” Sweetie Belle tightened her mouth, brows heavy. Apple Bloom made a valiant but futile effort to hold in her giggles. “A package of ink pots leaked through the mailbag and it got all over… Hey! Stop laughing at me!” “I’m sorry,” Apple Bloom snickered, “but you look straight up ridiculous with that stain settin’ in.” “Shut up, Zappy,” shot back Sweetie Belle, disgruntled. Apple Bloom’s smile vanished, replaced by a sullen moue. “Of all the names you coulda picked, I had to be Zappy Boots. Y’all are terrible friends, ya hear?” But all three Crusaders were smiling again, morale replenished. “I felt kinda bad for lying about our names. What if Shorty finds out?” Scootaloo directed the subject back to the matter at hand. “No, that was good thinking,” reassured Sweetie Belle, “We had no choice. We can’t have him finding out who we are.” “Well, what’s our next move, Crusaders?” headed Apple Bloom. “I don’t see any other way around it. I still think it’s crazy, but we’ll have to go with Apple Bloom’s Plan B,” Sweetie Belle acquiesced. “What’s… Plan B?” Scootaloo asked nervously. “Oh yeah.” Sweetie Belle frowned. “Um, you tell her, Apple Bloom.” “Well…” began Apple Bloom carefully, “Sweetie and I were talking, and we both agree that we can’t tell anyone about Shorty and the tiara.” “Why not?” Scootaloo asked. “We could tell the ponies at the Post Office and they could pay Short Fuse a visit. Or, we could even tell the police ponies and make Shorty hand it over.” “Well, the trouble is, we’re trying to keep Derpy out of trouble.” explained Apple Bloom. “If we tell anypony, she could get in trouble for messing up in the first place. And I have a feeling that this isn’t her first mistake on the job. Do you really want to be responsible for getting Derpy fired?” “When you put it that way, I guess not.” Scootaloo tilted her head in thought. “But what else can we do? It’s not like we can just break into his house and steal the tiara back.” She chucked at the thought. Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle silently glanced at each other. “Wait, what?” Scootaloo’s eyebrows shot up to the ceiling. “You can’t be serious!” She didn’t care for the Fuses, but she could never imagine violating anypony’s house by forcing entry. “Well, our only alternative is to let Shorty keep the priceless tiara.” Sweetie Belle reasoned as if this were a viable option. “Of course, the poor pony in 264 Main will be out 10,000 bits, but I’m sure he’ll understand if we explain it to him. Sure he would be sad, heartbroken really.” Sweetie Belle tossed her mane in mock distress. “But…” “Okay, okay.” Still crouching on the floor, Scootaloo closed her eyes and crossed her hooves over her head in submission. “I get it. We don’t have another option. It’s just… we can’t take this lightly.” Scootaloo felt as if a manticore was churning in her stomach. Apple Bloom said solemnly, “It’s the right thing to do. We need to fill our Crusaders’ promise to Derpy no matter the cost. I just hope we don’t wind up gettin’ cutie marks for breakin’ into places.” “What?” Sweetie Belle’s voice cracked with a rising inflection. “I don’t want a criminal cutie mark!” “Well, we ain’t gonna be criminals,” reassured Apple Bloom. “This ain’t stealing, it’s… a recovery mission. And anyways, we just wanna get the tiara to its rightful owner.” “Okay then. Looks like we all agree.” Scootaloo felt a turmoil of emotions swirling inside her chest: fear of getting caught, anger at Short Fuse for causing trouble, and an intense sense of justice at setting things right, even through illicit means. Of course, guilt was experienced most prominently in her conscience, because she knew that it was very invasive to go into other pony’s houses without permission. But subliminally, at the very core of her personality, a new feeling broke through the storm in her heart and rose to the forefront: a desire for action, to do something about the situation. It had often driven her to reckless and foolhardy behavior, and egged on by the peer pressure of the other Crusaders, she used it now to push aside her bad feelings and focus on the euphoria of planning the mission ahead. “We can do it tonight. Let’s do it Crusaders! On three. One, two, three!” The Crusaders shared a three-way hoof bump, and cheered. “Let’s show that nim-brained noodle what happens when ya mess with the Cutie Mark Crusaders!” whooped Apple Bloom. With that, the trio set to devising their most outlandish scheme yet. “We’ll have break in later, after dark,” Scootaloo explained. “And we need to wear super awesome black robes, like ninjas!” She feigned a swift karate-chop at Sweetie Belle, who shrieked and fell backwards onto her rear. “Well, we can count on Sweetie Belle for that,” said Apple Bloom, words distorted slightly by the pencil in her mouth. She reviewed the schematics in front of her, which included a rough sketch of the Fuses’ spacious abode, an estimate of the size of the tiara package based on Derpy’s mail order info, and a traced path through the darkest alleys of Ponyville to reach the objective. “I’m sure Rarity has tons of dark clothes for us to borrow.” “Uh-uh,” disagreed Sweetie Belle. “Every outfit Rarity designs needs to be as flashy and flamboyant as possible, with lots of sparkle and glitter and bright colors.” Sweetie rolled her eyes and scowled. “We’ll probably attract the attention of half of Ponyville if we wear something she created. I don’t even think we have plain black fabric.” “That’s okay, Sweetie Belle,” Scootaloo said hurriedly, reluctant to let Sweetie Belle go off on another rant about Rarity. “Well, we need black clothes. Where can we find some by tonight?” Apple Bloom looked uncomfortable. “Well, I do know that Granny Smith has some outfits down in the cellar… and we definitely have three filly-sized black outfits.” She grimaced at her friends. “What’s the problem, Apple Bloom?” inquired Scootaloo. “Those sound perfect! Why didn’t you mention them before?” Apple Bloom’s face flushed, and she wouldn’t look her fellow Crusaders in the eye. “Well,” she mumbled. “They’ll have to do, but you ain’t gonna like ‘em.”
Meet Knit StitchThe chilly room was slowly illumined by a golden beam of pure sunlight, which cascaded through the window and immediately warmed the air. The bright morning rays prompted a young filly, tangled amidst vibrant afghans and bedsheets, to emerge from her tranquil slumber. Smooth orange hooves rubbed somnolent eyes as Scootaloo let out a tremendous yawn to shame a lion. In an attempt to extricate herself from her covers, the sleepy filly rolled out of bed and onto the floor. Groaning, Scootaloo shook away the last vestiges of enervation and stood up. Scootaloo could not recall the last occasion she had felt so thoroughly rested. Now that the sun was up and the day had begun, Scootaloo began to bounce with excitement at the prospect of finally earning her long sought-after cutie mark. Today’s my day, she asseverated to herself with the confidence of a camel. After brushing her cerise mane and checking her wings for broken feathers, Scootaloo trotted downstairs to fix herself some breakfast. Halfway through a bowl of steamed oats, Scootaloo heard a knock on her front door. She hopped down from her stool and bounded down the hallway to greet her visitor. Just as she expected, her elderly neighbor and informal caretaker Knit Stitch stood in the entrance waiting to greet her. “Mrs. Stitch!” Scootaloo’s bright eyes radiated with the mutual amity the two ponies shared. She took a deep breath, and then exclaimed, “Mrs. Stitch, I made us both some steel cut oats and I was thinking we could eat them right now and then I was just wondering, could I maybe meet Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle and go crusading later on, ‘cause you know it’s only a matter of time ‘till one of us gets our cutie mark, and I really think today is the day, you know?” Scootaloo’s ebullient fusilade of conversational ramblings faded as the filly gasped for breath upon her doorstep. Knit Stitch smiled fondly at her young charge. With her knobbly knees, sagging cheeks, and bony frame, the elderly pony appeared frail and debilitated from her many years of fulfilling life. However, Scootaloo knew that there was plenty of vigor left in her caretaker. Certainly, not many senior ponies would have taken responsibility for a newly orphaned filly, even if she happened to be the neighbor’s kid. But now, Knit Stitch couldn’t imagine life without this exuberant orange filly to brighten her every day. Taking her chance to respond while Scootaloo was still winded, Knit Stitch shook her head with comical confusion. “Scootaloo, I don’t know how you can act so surprised to see me considering that I show up for breakfast every day. And of course you may play with your friends, after all your chores are completed.” Scootaloo stared back at Knit Stitch’s lustrous pearl flank and groaned. “Aw, maaaan. I hate doing chores.” She flopped on the ground and covered her eyes with both forelegs, eyes peeking out with a secret grin. Knit Stitch rolled her eyes. “Hush, child, it won’t take you but fifteen minutes to water the plants and maybe tidy up that messy room of yours!” But she could see that Scootaloo was feeling too silly to behave at her behest. “Tell you what kiddo, we can talk more after breakfast. After all, you need plenty of fuel if you’re going to be adventuring with your friends all day.” Scootaloo zipped back inside, followed by the quiet clop clop of the elder’s hooves on the smooth wood floor. Today was going to be special, she was sure of it.
Meet the CrusadersThe sleepy town of Ponyville was just beginning to stir. Ponies opened their windows to enjoy the gentle spring breeze, which carried the delightful aroma of pine, grass shoots, and apple blossoms all the way from Sweet Apple Acres. Birds chirped in the magnolia trees overhead, interrupted only by the faint sounds of Ponyville’s residents going about their early morning business. This idyll was shattered immediately as Scootaloo tore through the town by scooter, wings buzzing furiously. She let out a boisterous “Whoa!” as she swerved to narrowly avoid a cart of pastries, and hollered “Hey!” as she tore past an irate family of beavers, nearly running them over. “Sorry!” she called back, but there was no stopping now, not when she was so close to her destination. Flapping as fast as she could towards Sweet Apple Acres, Scootaloo made a hairpin turn onto the beaten dirt path to the CMC clubhouse. Intent on attempting at least one super awesome trick before she arrived, Scootaloo gave a tremendous flap of her wings and pushed off the ground. She swung her scooter over her head in midair, then performed a backflip while simultaneously knocking the back wheel with her hoof to send the deck swinging around for 360 degrees of rotation. Her leap carried her over the thick tree root blocking the dirt path, before she landed with only the slightest flutter of her wings for balance. “Haha, yes!” exclaimed Scootaloo triumphantly. That was a little stunt she called the Dragon Whip, and it had taken months to perfect. The clubhouse in sight, Scootaloo allowed herself to decelerate before screeching to a halt directly in front of Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle, who were both profoundly impressed at Scootaloo’s latest display of acrobatic agility. “Holy moly, Scootaloo, that was the spunkiest scooter trick I’ve ever seen anypony do in my whole entire life!” Apple Bloom burst out immediately. Still breathing hard but rather pleased with herself, Scootaloo shot back, “Oh yeah? How many other ponies do you know that trick on scooters?” “Eh…” Apple Bloom scrunched her brow. “None, but if there were any, I bet you’d be the best. I ain’t never seen anything so impressive.” “Or so audacious,” added Sweetie Belle. “You could have seriously wiped out on that one.” Scootaloo gave a fearless laugh. “Yeah, right! If Rainbow Dash isn’t afraid to push herself to her limits, then neither am I!” She tried to flash an indomitable smile, but wound up looking squinty instead. Apple Bloom stifled a laugh. “Riiiight. So anyways, what do you Crusaders want to do today?” Apple Bloom inquired of her friends. “What?” asked Sweetie Belle. “I thought you had something in mind. That’s why we all met here, remember?” “We always meet here,” countered Apple Bloom. “And anyways, I’m sick and tired of always havin’ to come up with all the brilliant Crusading ideas.” She crossed her forelegs and sat with a pout. “Well, I say we check out what’s happening in Ponyville,” suggested Scootaloo sagaciously. “Lately, there’s been all sorts of hubbub with monster attacks, magic duels, and reigns of chaos, like, every week.” “Actually,” said Sweetie Belle, “I was wondering if you noticed that life has become a lot more exciting and dangerous since Twilight came to town. Plus our sisters go on a lot more perilous missions. But yeah, somepony in Ponyville might need our help.” “Well, it sounds like it’s settled then.” Apple Bloom, the natural leader, sat up with a determined countenance. “Let’s head ‘em up and move em’ out.” And with that, the three fillies galloped back up to Ponyville, each yearning for a Cutie Mark of their own.
Meet Derpy Hooves“I hope we run into a really scary monster.” The Crusaders were in high spirits heading to Ponyville on the bright spring day. Memories of past Crusading mishaps disregarded, Scootaloo knew that at least one of the trio was bound to discover some spectacular hidden penchant, and maybe even their cutie mark. Scootaloo allowed her imagination to wander, envisaging the Crusaders engaged in a ferocious battle against some savage beast invading Ponyville. Interrupting Scootaloo’s reverie, Apple Bloom lowered her head and gave an exasperated sigh. “Don’t even say things like that, Scootaloo. That’s just askin’ for trouble.” “Well,” Sweetie Belle began, “I think we could definitely take on at least a timber wolf right now. After all, I’ve been practicing my magic and Apple Bloom can buck and lasso. And we all saw how quick Scootaloo is in the air.” Not paying attention, Scootaloo remarked, “If only I could fight alongside Rainbow Dash. If only…” Meanwhile, Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom had begun to argue. “All I’m sayin’ is that I think we ought to be a touch bit more careful with our Crusadin’ business. Pickin’ fights with monsters is way out of our league.” “And all I’m saying,” Sweetie Belle squeaked, “is that if Rarity can fight monsters, then so can we! I mean, this is Rarity we’re talking about.” Engaged in their usual friendly banter, the Crusaders arrived in the outskirts of the town in no time at all. Underneath an old basswood on a desolate boulevard sat familiar pegasus. Derpy Hooves sat with her face resting on her forelegs, appearing rather dejected. She wore her mailmare’s hat and her mail bag was slung over a shoulder, but she was surrounded by dozens of various letters and parcels which were strewn haphazardly amid the dead leaves. Crying softly, Derpy was so disconsolate that she showed no sign of recognition as the fillies approached. Only when Scootaloo gave a hearty, “Hey, Derpy, what’s up?” did Derpy raise her head with a sniff. Showing a bit more tact, Sweetie Bell ventured, “Hi there, Derpy. Are you having some trouble with the mail delivery?” Derpy gave a big snuffle and blinked at the filles, but said nothing. “Derpy!” said Apple Bloom. “Are you OK?” Derpy remained taciturn. “‘Cause,” began Apple Bloom gently, “we Crusaders were just lookin’ to try some new activities today and if you would do us the honor of lettin’ us help you with your route today…” “Really?” asked Derpy in a more spirited tone, some reticence abandoned. “You’d do that?” “Well duh,” said Apple Bloom. “We would love it if you taught us a little about mail delivery. We could even get our cutie marks.” “Ohh,” sighed Derpy, relief washing over her face. “I could really use some help. I just don’t know what went wrong. See, there I was, delivering the mail like I always do, when I realized I mixed up a delivery. I left a package for 264 Main St. She gestured to the nearest house on her left, where the tarnished brass numbers 264 were nailed to the front siding. The front porch was bare. The Cutie Mark Crusaders glanced at one another. “Uhhh…” began a perplexed Scootaloo, “what’s the problem then?” “Yeah,” added Sweetie Belle, isn’t that the right house for the delivery?” “No, no, no!” Derpy wailed, “This isn’t 264 Main St. It’s 264 Mane St.” She spelled both street names aloud in order to differentiate. “OK,” said Apple Bloom, “well, that’s just fine. It looks like they already took the package in. Just explain the mix up and get it back. Everypony makes mistakes now an’ again.” Derpy moaned, “I already tried that. The stallion that answered the door pretended like it was his package all along. But I know it wasn’t, see?” She handed the Crusaders a file which contained notes about some of the more expensive package deliveries. Sweetie Belle slipped out the right delivery sheet, and sure enough, the package was supposed to be delivered to a house on Main Street with the matching address numbers halfway across town. “There’s no mistaking it, he has the wrong package.” said Apple Bloom. “Did ya show him this? What’d he say?” Derpy was looking more and more upset. “He s-said that he was expecting this package and that it must have b-been a typo on the mailing address. Then he… he…” “What??” demanded all three fillies at once. “He accused me of trying to steal his mail!” cried Derpy. “Then he shoved me off the porch onto the ground. And he spilled all my ma-a-ail.” Derpy started sobbing, deeply aggrieved. Apple Bloom gasped furiously. Sweetie Belle gave a squeal of outrage. Scootaloo was so greatly affronted for Derpy’s sake that she started to float, buzzing her wings lividly. The Crusaders had never heard of anypony treating any other pony so horridly, and the great sense of injustice fueled their indignation. “Don’t worry, Derpy!” hollered Apple Bloom, startling the others. “We’re gonna help you in any way we can.” “Yeah,” commiserated Sweetie Belle. “That guy sounds like nothing but a big fat meanie.” “Crusader huddle!” glowered Scootaloo. The three fillies grouped together and began to conspire. Scootaloo brought her front hooves together and began a full-blown soliloquy. “Alright, girls. A great blow to democracy and all things fair and just has just been dealt today, in our home town of Ponyville. Now, we could sit idly by, and let some complete scumbag get away with the most atrocious of deeds, or we can stand and fight like Crusaders! We could wallow in should-haves, when we should be embracing the can-dos! We can ignore this great offense to an innocent mare, or we can…” “Uh, Scootaloo? I think we get it,” interrupted Apple Bloom. “We gotta teach this guy a lesson. But firstly, what exactly was in this package? It musta been pretty valuable for someone to want to keep it for themselves so bad.” Sweetie Belle, who had been looking over the delivery forms in the mean time, suddenly gave a gasp of astonishment. “What?” asked Apple Bloom and Scootaloo. In answer, Sweetie Belle shoved the product description form in their faces. “Look!” “Eh, what are we looking at?” asked Apple Bloom. “The item was a ruby encrusted tiara!” said Sweetie Belle. “So what?” Scootaloo was confused. “That doesn’t make any sense. Rubies are super common. That tiara couldn’t have cost more than 20 bits.” “Nooo,” whined Sweetie Belle, distraught. “This isn’t any old tiara. It was made over a hundred years ago by a brilliant artisan by the name of Gold Leaf. He specialized in jewelry and other adornments, and of course Rarity is obsessed with his work. Apparently this guy made the most brilliant designs by basing his work off of the patterns of nature. But barely any of his work is still around today. A tiara made by Gold Leaf would cost at least…” “Yes??” prompted Apple Bloom and Scootaloo. “...at least 10,000 bits.” Apple Bloom’s jaw hit the ground, and Scootaloo almost fainted. “That’s why we need to get this back at any cost. If this is the real deal, then we need to deliver it to the right pony. Otherwise, Derpy could get in big trouble,” concluded Sweetie Belle. The three fillies glanced at Derpy, who was laying on the ground, pawing at the dirt with a hoof. The Crusaders broke the huddle and approached the downtrodden mare. “OK Derpy, tell ya what,” said Apple Bloom. “You’ve been through enough today. So we just want you to go home and rest up. We can handle this jokester at 264 Mane, plus we’ll finish your mail route for you.” Derpy’s eyes again flooded with tears, but this time, they were of gratitude. “Oh, thank you so much, Crusaders. I don’t even know if that’s allowed, but I am so grateful.” “Anytime Derpy!” affirmed Sweetie Belle. “When the Crusaders make a promise, we always carry through.” “Thank youuuuu!” With a great leap, Derpy lifted off gracefully, then promptly ensnared herself in the branches of the old basswood. “Sorry!” she apologized to the tree before disentangling herself and flying off. “Well Crusaders,” Scootaloo said excitedly. “Looks like we have our work cut out for us. This is our good deed of the day, plus we can get our cutie marks as mailmares!” “Or in public relations,” said Sweetie Belle dubiously as she gave a hesitant glance to the house. Atop the apex of the roof, a crow cawed portentously.
Meet Shelly and Shorty“I think that’s all of ‘em,” said Apple Bloom, wiping her brow with a hoof. The Cutie Mark Crusaders had sifted all the loose bits of mail from the leaves, and then organized them by street and address number. It was Sweetie Belle that had suggested the Crusaders divide the letters and packages amongst themselves to save delivery time. After all, it was already well past noon; ponies would be expecting their daily mail at least before sundown. Apple Bloom filled Derpy’s mailbag with the largest of the packages and slung it over her shoulder, while Scootaloo squashed the official postal hat atop her head. “This is perfect!” exclaimed Sweetie Belle, her eyes shining like sapphires. “We’ll have our mailmares’ cutie marks in no time at all.” “Well, yeah,” agreed Scootaloo, “but don’t you think we oughta get that ruby tiara from the jerk in 264 first? She pointed at the large house to their right. “I don’t wanna waste a single second getting that package back to it’s rightful owners. That guy deserves what’s coming to him.” “Scootaloo, I think we need to be a little bit more careful. We need a plan before confronting somepony like him or he could hurt us, or worse!” cautioned a grim Sweetie Belle. “Well, I agree with Scootaloo,” declared Apple Bloom. “If we don’t act soon, who’s stoppin’ him from hiding the goods or selling ‘em, even?” Outnumbered, Sweetie Belle could only let the group drag her along. “Fine,” she groaned, “but I still say we give diplomacy a shot first.” “Of course,” said Scootaloo, adrenalized now that they were finally moving towards a plan of action. “Let’s do this, Crusaders!” The fillies walked up to the doorstep of 264 Mane. The house was rather large even by Ponyville standards, with two full stories and a roomy balcony which protruded over the front porch. A luxurious silver carriage with plush velvet cushioning was parked in the driveway. This was clearly a prosperous pony who valued the distinguished prestige of such a blatant display of opulence. “Ugh,” steamed Apple Bloom. “Where does this schmuck get off in stealing other ponies’ mail? He looks like he could afford to buy half of Ponyville!” “Quiet!” hushed Sweetie Belle as she pounded an ornate door knocker. Knock. Knock. Knock. The ominous thumps echoed across the empty boulevard, resembling the thundering hoofsteps of death. Anxiously, the Crusaders huddled together in the shade of the balcony, dreading the approach of the pony on the other side. The cheerful rays of the afternoon sun could not penetrate the clouds of fear in Scootaloo’s heart. Shrinking away from the entrance, she imagined a fierce pony with a torn leather jacket and a bandana seizing her and shaking her violently for trying to reclaim the tiara. But before she had time to run, to scream, to do anything, the mahogany door swung wide open. “Well, hello there!” greeted a cheerful voice. A young mare the color of egg yolk stood before them, adorned with diamond earrings and an orange bonnet. The curls of her baby blue mane sparkled with glitter, as did the dark shadows of thickly applied eyeliner. Her sleek coat appeared to be well groomed. She beamed at the three fillies like they were old friends. “Oh,” she cooed, “don’t you three look so cute in your little outfits!” She patted Scootaloo on the head roughly, shoving the hat over her eyes. “Honey, the Foal Scouts are here to sell cookies!” she called back into the house. “Actually, ma’am...” began Apple Bloom, but was interrupted by the bubbly mare. “I’m just so pleased that you three girls stopped by. Every year the Scouts came and delivered the most sensational alfalfa cookie dough. And wasn’t it just the cat’s pajamas!” She chuckled. “Everypony was asking me, Shell, where in Equestria did you find such mar-velous cookies? And no one believed me when I told them I just baked them up myself! But then the Scouts stopped coming and I was ever so disappointed.” A shadow crossed her face briefly before lightening up into her usual smile. “But of course you’re here now, aren’t you!” “But…” Sweetie Belle interjected, but Shell wasn’t finished. “Anyhow, listen to me ramble!” She flipped her hair back with a hoof. “Do you still have the chocolate maringues? I’ll take at least ten boxes of those, and…” “EXCUSE ME!” Scootaloo had had enough. The mare blinked and gave the fillies a disconcerted look. “What?” she asked dumbly. “We’re not Foal Scouts! Today we’re mailmares,” elucidated Scootaloo, cheeks flamed with annoyance. “Oh! I…” started the mare. “What’s going on, Shelly?” came a baritone voice from inside the house. A short and scruffy stallion clopped up, joining his wife at the entrance. A few tawny chest hairs poked out between the buttons of his satin olive-colored pajamas. He took off a pair of designer sunglasses and squinted at the Cutie Mark Crusaders. Stepping onto the porch, his shiny amber hair flowed like a golden river in the warm afternoon sun. His thick legs contrasted with his short stature, reminding Scootaloo of a walking footstool. “You,” he said brusquely. “What do you want?” “As I was about to explain,” responded Scootaloo, tilting her chin and trying to sound official, “we are representatives from the official Post Office of Ponyville, and we are here today to address a mail mix-up that happened at your address about an hour ago.” Scootaloo fidgeted, sweating. “We have reason to believe that you received a package at tw- er... 1400 hours today with mail which was not addressed to your house.” At this point her composure broke completely as she became too nervous to inhale. Sweetie Belle picked up on this and said, “So basically, we would like you to return the package that was wrongly to delivered to you. Sir.” She gave him her best innocent smile. The stallion was taken aback. “Do you three work for the post office? Cripes, I’m getting old. And like I told that gray pegasus earlier, the package I received had the item I ordered just a day ago from Canterlot. Hold on, I kept the paperwork.” As the stallion disappeared, Shelly brushed down her bonnet. “Well,” she huffed. “I still think it’s rather discourteous to jump right to business without even getting your names! Why don’t you introduce yourselves.” Scootaloo gulped. The Crusaders hadn’t discussed whether they would disclose their real names. What the situation got hairy and they needed to scram? “I’m… Suave Shoes!” she blurted out quickly. Catching on, Sweetie Belle said, “Yeah, and I’m Curly Tail!” Her voice squeaked at the end. Apple Bloom panicked. “Well, I’m… I’m…” Scootaloo said quickly, “And she’s Zappy Boots!” Charmed, Shell replied, “And I’m Shell. Shelly Fuse. Nice to meet you.” She gave the Crusaders each an enthusiastic hoofshake which left them with sore forelegs. “And you all met my wonderful husband, Shorty!” At this, Apple Bloom snickered. “Short, if you don’t mind!” The stallion returned with an order form in his mouth. “Or Mr. Fuse, if you please.” His voice was slightly muffled by the papers. He spat them out onto the porch for the Crusaders to look. “There! This proves that I mail-ordered the item in question just yesterday from Canterlot. Happy?” “He’s telling the truth,” confirmed Apple Bloom in a shocked voice after giving the form a glance. “But then why…” “Because it was a typo, like I said to that idiot pegasus who tried to steal my package earlier. Now you tell the Postal Service that they’re the ones with the mail mix-up!” Shorty’s mane bristled, his face flustered. “Hold on a minute!” said Sweetie Belle. “You need to give us that package right now! Even if you did order the item, it will be returned once we confirm the mistake back at HQ.” It was the wrong thing to say. “There is no way you are getting your grimy hooves on that package!” Shorty yelled. “I bet you don’t even work for the Postal Service. I bet that stupid grey pegasus put you up to this!” “That’s sort of true,” Scootaloo let slip, then covered her mouth with a hoof hurriedly. “AHA! You’re all fakes. I can’t believe this.” Shorty practically had smoke coming out of his ears, but he also looked nervous to Scootaloo, like he was eager for the fillies to be gone and not investigate the matter further. “This is my mail 100%, and I will not tolerate thieves of any sort. Now get off my property! I have half a mind to call the cops on you three,” he threatened. “Short Fuse! Calm yourself! This is exactly what that doctor was talking about.” Shelly looked apologetic. To the girls, she assured, “He’s not usually like this.” Not mollified, Shorty breathed, “You have exactly three seconds to get off my property before I throw you out. One, two…” The Crusaders needed no further prompting. They scrambled off the porch and ran down the boulevard. Behind them, Shelli and Short Fuse went inside, the latter muttering to himself obstinately. “Tell me I got the wrong package. Fah!” The door was slammed shut. Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle galloped for three blocks before dropping to the ground, panting. “Now I know,” Scootaloo wheezed, “how Derpy felt.” “What do we do, y’all?” Apple Bloom moaned. “We ain’t got no proof that that ain’t his ruby tiara, an’ furthermore, if we don’t fix this up by sundown, then Derpy’s gonna be in for it big time.” “Something felt wrong,” expressed Sweetie Belle. “When Rarity orders her cloths and gems from Canterlot, they take about a week to arrive. The order’s shipped by train to the store, then the Office in Canterlot needs to process the mail and get the order to the right shop. And Rarity always gets her deliveries by express mail, which is the fastest mail delivery system in Equestria, besides dragon, of course.” She giggled. “So there’s no way that guy is telling the truth. It must not be his package!” Apple Bloom shrugged. “All that may be, but that feller wasn’t no liar either. I got the feeling he was hiding somthin’ but not fibbin’ outright.” Scootaloo concurred. “Ok, so we all agree there’s something off about that guy. I don’t know how, but he must have somehow forged that order form. We’ve got to recover that package and get it to the right address, stat.” “Don’t forget about all the other letters!” Sweetie Belle chimed in. “We owe it to Derpy and the rest of Ponyville to complete our rounds, in either rain or sunshine.” She hopped up and brushed the grit out of her mane. “Let’s break for now, Crusaders.” Scootaloo lifted herself from the grimy road and stretched her wings. “And then, we get that package back by any means necessary.” The Crusaders shared a meaningful glance at the implications of this statement. The time for negotiation was over. They would have to resort to more drastic measures. “Any means necessary,” the three fillies vowed doggedly, sharing a steely glance.
Burglary Just Got a Lot CuterChapter 5 As Scootaloo trudged along the sunny Alicorn Avenue, she silently berated herself for leaving her scooter at the CMC clubhouse. As it turned out, sticking letters into mailboxes wasn’t quite as action-packed as she had initially anticipated, and the long walks between houses only added to the drudgery. At least I’m on my last letter, she thought optimistically. Dropping it off at a dilapidated hovel which was surrounded by the potent miasma of dead fish, she began the long walk to the Crusaders’ clubhouse, where she had agreed to rendezvous with Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle. Alone with her thoughts, Scootaloo pondered the mystery of the Gold Leaf tiara. The fact was, the Crusaders couldn’t be sure that the tiara didn’t belong to Short and Shelly Fuse. The order form the Crusaders had viewed was evidence enough that Shorty had definitely purchased the item in question. Or was it? Scootaloo knew that an official document couldn’t have been fabricated in such a short time. But Shorty could have anticipated a visit from a PPS representative, especially if the real buyer at 264 Main registered a missing package complaint. Then, assuming the form was fake, why he had chosen yesterday as the date of purchase? It was anypony’s guess, though it could be chalked up to the same stupidity which would inspire a pony to commit mail fraud in the first place. Another issue that ate at Scootaloo was the confrontational nature of Shorty. Was it just his ill-tempered personality, or did he really have something to hide? The Crusaders had to be careful, as irascibility in and of itself was not a crime. Did they have enough evidence to justify further action against the Fuses? Scootaloo couldn’t shake the feeling that they lacked some key information, that they were looking at this all wrong. Reaching the clubhouse, Scootaloo found Applebloom and Sweetie Belle sitting at the table, apparently deliberating over the same dilemmas that Scootaloo had been contemplating. “It just doesn’t make sense,” lamented Apple Bloom of their enigma, flopping out of her chair and onto the ground. “This whole thing. It’s impossible for a Canterlot mail order to arrive next-day, right? So either Shorty’s lyin’ about the order, or it just wasn’t his package to begin with.” “Paradoxical,” mused Sweetie Belle. “Gesundheit,” replied Scootaloo, stepping into the clubhouse. “Oh, hey Scootaloo,” said Apple Bloom glumly, her face flat on the floor. “Did you get your mail all delivered too?” “Yeah,” affirmed Scootaloo, “but I don’t think a mailmare’s cutie mark is the right thing for me. Hey, did either of you get your cutie marks?” “Not quite.” Sweetie Belle rubbed her cheek and said, “I thought I had it there for a moment. I really liked the organizational aspect of delivering letters. Just when I thought that it was my destiny to become a mailmare, I looked down at my flank and saw a mark.” Sweetie Belle could have been describing a trip to the dentist, so was her voice so completely devoid of enthusiasm. “And… that’s a good thing, right?” Scootaloo tentatively inquired, not understanding Sweetie Belle’s bitter dejection. “You tell me,” Sweetie Belle mumbled, raising her flank for Scootaloo to see. The left side of her hindquarters was imbrued by some dark, sticky substance. Ebony pigment blotched her sleek, heavenly white coat and ran down her leg. It almost looked like… “Ink!” Scootaloo laughed with surprise. “Don’t remind me.” Sweetie Belle tightened her mouth, brows heavy. Apple Bloom made a valiant but futile effort to hold in her giggles. “A package of ink pots leaked through the mailbag and it got all over… Hey! Stop laughing at me!” “I’m sorry,” Apple Bloom snickered, “but you look straight up ridiculous with that stain settin’ in.” “Shut up, Zappy,” shot back Sweetie Belle, disgruntled. Apple Bloom’s smile vanished, replaced by a sullen moue. “Of all the names you coulda picked, I had to be Zappy Boots. Y’all are terrible friends, ya hear?” But all three Crusaders were smiling again, morale replenished. “I felt kinda bad for lying about our names. What if Shorty finds out?” Scootaloo directed the subject back to the matter at hand. “No, that was good thinking,” reassured Sweetie Belle, “We had no choice. We can’t have him finding out who we are.” “Well, what’s our next move, Crusaders?” headed Apple Bloom. “I don’t see any other way around it. I still think it’s crazy, but we’ll have to go with Apple Bloom’s Plan B,” Sweetie Belle acquiesced. “What’s… Plan B?” Scootaloo asked nervously. “Oh yeah.” Sweetie Belle frowned. “Um, you tell her, Apple Bloom.” “Well…” began Apple Bloom carefully, “Sweetie and I were talking, and we both agree that we can’t tell anyone about Shorty and the tiara.” “Why not?” Scootaloo asked. “We could tell the ponies at the Post Office and they could pay Short Fuse a visit. Or, we could even tell the police ponies and make Shorty hand it over.” “Well, the trouble is, we’re trying to keep Derpy out of trouble.” explained Apple Bloom. “If we tell anypony, she could get in trouble for messing up in the first place. And I have a feeling that this isn’t her first mistake on the job. Do you really want to be responsible for getting Derpy fired?” “When you put it that way, I guess not.” Scootaloo tilted her head in thought. “But what else can we do? It’s not like we can just break into his house and steal the tiara back.” She chucked at the thought. Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle silently glanced at each other. “Wait, what?” Scootaloo’s eyebrows shot up to the ceiling. “You can’t be serious!” She didn’t care for the Fuses, but she could never imagine violating anypony’s house by forcing entry. “Well, our only alternative is to let Shorty keep the priceless tiara.” Sweetie Belle reasoned as if this were a viable option. “Of course, the poor pony in 264 Main will be out 10,000 bits, but I’m sure he’ll understand if we explain it to him. Sure he would be sad, heartbroken really.” Sweetie Belle tossed her mane in mock distress. “But…” “Okay, okay.” Still crouching on the floor, Scootaloo closed her eyes and crossed her hooves over her head in submission. “I get it. We don’t have another option. It’s just… we can’t take this lightly.” Scootaloo felt as if a manticore was churning in her stomach. Apple Bloom said solemnly, “It’s the right thing to do. We need to fill our Crusaders’ promise to Derpy no matter the cost. I just hope we don’t wind up gettin’ cutie marks for breakin’ into places.” “What?” Sweetie Belle’s voice cracked with a rising inflection. “I don’t want a criminal cutie mark!” “Well, we ain’t gonna be criminals,” reassured Apple Bloom. “This ain’t stealing, it’s… a recovery mission. And anyways, we just wanna get the tiara to its rightful owner.” “Okay then. Looks like we all agree.” Scootaloo felt a turmoil of emotions swirling inside her chest: fear of getting caught, anger at Short Fuse for causing trouble, and an intense sense of justice at setting things right, even through illicit means. Of course, guilt was experienced most prominently in her conscience, because she knew that it was very invasive to go into other pony’s houses without permission. But subliminally, at the very core of her personality, a new feeling broke through the storm in her heart and rose to the forefront: a desire for action, to do something about the situation. It had often driven her to reckless and foolhardy behavior, and egged on by the peer pressure of the other Crusaders, she used it now to push aside her bad feelings and focus on the euphoria of planning the mission ahead. “We can do it tonight. Let’s do it Crusaders! On three. One, two, three!” The Crusaders shared a three-way hoof bump, and cheered. “Let’s show that nim-brained noodle what happens when ya mess with the Cutie Mark Crusaders!” whooped Apple Bloom. With that, the trio set to devising their most outlandish scheme yet. “We’ll have break in later, after dark,” Scootaloo explained. “And we need to wear super awesome black robes, like ninjas!” She feigned a swift karate-chop at Sweetie Belle, who shrieked and fell backwards onto her rear. “Well, we can count on Sweetie Belle for that,” said Apple Bloom, words distorted slightly by the pencil in her mouth. She reviewed the schematics in front of her, which included a rough sketch of the Fuses’ spacious abode, an estimate of the size of the tiara package based on Derpy’s mail order info, and a traced path through the darkest alleys of Ponyville to reach the objective. “I’m sure Rarity has tons of dark clothes for us to borrow.” “Uh-uh,” disagreed Sweetie Belle. “Every outfit Rarity designs needs to be as flashy and flamboyant as possible, with lots of sparkle and glitter and bright colors.” Sweetie rolled her eyes and scowled. “We’ll probably attract the attention of half of Ponyville if we wear something she created. I don’t even think we have plain black fabric.” “That’s okay, Sweetie Belle,” Scootaloo said hurriedly, reluctant to let Sweetie Belle go off on another rant about Rarity. “Well, we need black clothes. Where can we find some by tonight?” Apple Bloom looked uncomfortable. “Well, I do know that Granny Smith has some outfits down in the cellar… and we definitely have three filly-sized black outfits.” She grimaced at her friends. “What’s the problem, Apple Bloom?” inquired Scootaloo. “Those sound perfect! Why didn’t you mention them before?” Apple Bloom’s face flushed, and she wouldn’t look her fellow Crusaders in the eye. “Well,” she mumbled. “They’ll have to do, but you ain’t gonna like ‘em.”
