Daring Scoots

Chapter 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.”