The Ghost of Friendship Past

Mare Do Well: Beyond

By Silvertie

01 -- The Ghost of Friendship Past

Fifteen Years Later...

Scootaloo sighed, a cloud of condensation forming against the glass in a puff of white as she stared out of the window at the falling snow outside, blowing a lock of unruly, long purple mane out of her orange face. The stuff was everywhere, thick and white on the ground, as usual. It hadn’t stopped snowing for a long time, now, and Scootaloo still remembered the days when that would have been a major problem in of itself.

Of course, these days, the snow never got much thicker than a hoof’s depth, a result of the magically altered grey clouds far above -- which was lucky, because it never stopped snowing, not really. Sometimes the snow stopped falling for maybe half a day, perhaps longer; but the clouds never went away, ever. Just thinking about the weather made Scootaloo’s wings tingle -- being a pegasus, the weather was kind of her thing, and she knew when something wasn’t right with the weather.

‘course, when snow falls for fifteen years flat, you’d have to be blind not to see that, no matter what bull-pies the Department of Weather Control fed you.

“Scoot?” Applebloom’s voice asked. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Scootaloo blinked and tore her gaze away from the window, to look at the stocky yellow earth pony standing in the middle of the warm living room, a magical, perpetual fire burning away in the fireplace.

“You sure?” Applebloom pressed, adjusting her scarf around her neck and a sturdy cotton jacket with thick woolen lining, and picking up a picnic basket.

“I’m sure,” Scootaloo reaffirmed, turning around and getting off the sofa. “I’m just hyped for the picnic. When was the last time we saw Sweetie Belle?”

“Too long ago,” grunted Applebloom. “The way th’ world is these days, Ah cain’t fault her none. Still...” Applebloom clicked her tongue in thought. “Ah wonder if we should jus’ settle for writin’ letters. Thinkin’ about the good ol’ days is just doin’ me mischief.”

“The “good old days”, ‘Bloom?” Scootaloo asked, grinning. “You ain’t that old yet, girl.”

“Well, seems like an age ago we were out questin’ for our marks.” Applebloom’s eyes fell, before she shook her head and smiled. “Enough o’ this. We’ll be late.” Applebloom walked over to the doorway that connected the lounge area to the rest of the house. “Goin’ out with Scootaloo! Back later!”

“Alright, Applebloom,” a deep voice rumbled back. “You be careful now, y’ hear me?”

“Eeyup!” Applebloom shouted back. “Later, Mac!” The earth pony walked over to the door, and looked to Scootaloo. “You ready?”

Scootaloo grabbed her own scarf from the couch, and slung it on, followed by a well-worn bomber jacket. “All set. Let’s go.”

======

As the two old friends walked through the snow on the long walk to town, their journey was made a little easier by the fact that it stopped snowing, even if only for a little while.

“Looks like you still got it,” Applebloom nodded. “Y’all are getting good at guessin’ the weather now.”

“I wish I could do more...” Scootaloo mused, looking at the skies.

“You do plenty,” Applebloom reassured. “Thanks to havin’ you around, we can get a leg up on the nicer weather, and get applebuckin’ season done in record time.”

“Ignoring the fact that you only got a quarter of the trees you used to have...”

“Don’t remind me.”

The pair walked down the road and into Ponyville proper. The earth pony town had seen better days, once being sunny, vibrant and full of life and laughter. Celestia knew that the Crusaders had certainly made the most out of it. Probably why it hit the Crusaders the hardest. The Ponyville of their childhood was gone, unlikely to ever return.

Where sunny skies had one been, clouds cleared in record time by a rainbow speedster, only dark, grey, lifeless clouds remained. The air was filled not with cheerful hubbub, but the distant sounds of industry and machinery. Where smiling foals had once played near a fountain, there were only those damnable soldiers standing next to the fountain, watching the world slowly and tentatively pass them by.

The clockwork soldiers -- artificial ponies made of metal, clockwork brass and advanced thaumic engineering, they were, to a one, the most fiercely loyal of troops; they barely thought, couldn’t feel, didn’t breathe, hardly talked, were cheap and replaceable, and perhaps most importantly, they didn’t question orders. Self-winding, armed with integrated thaumic laser emitters in the chest, and stronger than most ponies by dint of artificial weight and clockwork strength, they were symbols of the times ponies lived in -- symbols of the Regent’s rule, and rumor had it, if the Regent focused on them, they became her eyes and ears as well.

To defy one clockwork soldier was to risk defying not just all of them, but the Regent herself. And those who stood up against the Regent had a notorious track record of taking up a new career in mining, or getting sized up for a pine box. Metaphorically speaking, of course, since the Regent wouldn’t even waste the pine on a rebel.

Scootaloo and Applebloom gave them a wide berth -- Applebloom’s status as part of the Apple clan meant they were safe from most of the trouble, but the fact remained that she and Scootaloo were earth pony and pegasus, made second-class citizens by restrictive laws -- and clockwork soldiers enforced the laws to the letter, and with extreme prejudice and speed. Only “duly considered” authority could stop them, and there had been cases of ponies being slow on the paper presentation resulting in untimely death. Best not to push it.

They weren’t the only ones. Other earth ponies and pegasi maintained a wide berth from the soldiers, who didn’t seem to care or notice the ponies walking around an invisible space around them. The only ponies who dared to cross the bubble were the unicorns -- few and far between in Ponyville these days thanks to the disparity of life, but the ones that did stay for whatever reason enjoyed a distinctly higher standard of life, many laws such as curfews not applying to them.

Scootaloo and Applebloom moved on, and after some near-automatic, careful pathing past clockwork soldiers they didn’t need to deal with, until they arrived at the train station, where two more clockwork soldiers stood at either side of the quiet building’s sole legitimate entrance. No avoiding these ones.

The two moved up the steps, and found their path blocked rapidly by two outstretched, iron legs. There was a ticking of gears as the two soldiers turned their heads and fixed the two mares with looks from glowing, crystalline eyes.

“Halt,” stated one, in a tinny voice that sounded like somepony talking through a long metal tube.

“Present identification,” the other added.

Applebloom and Scootaloo presented their ID cards as requested, and with pointedly careful movements, so as to avoid getting accused of pulling a weapon -- a regrettably frequent accusation among pegasi and earth ponies. The soldiers stared at the cards carefully, looking for hallmarks of counterfeit IDs.

“State your business,” the first one said.

“We’re here t’ escort a guest from Canterlot,” Applebloom replied, as she and Scootaloo put away their IDs again.

“Name the guest,” challenged the second.

“Sweetie Belle,” Scootaloo answered. “Sister to Lady Rarity.”

The soldiers looked at them anew, crystal eyes glittering dangerously.

“Please wait while we verify your claim,” clicked one, as they both exposed their thaumic lasers, metal plates sliding diagonally upwards and apart to expose a stubby mechanical armature with a red ruby set at the end -- the thaumic laser, capable of unmasking changelings, stunning and killing a full-grown pony with relative ease, and channeling any spell an authorized unicorn cared to cast.

There was a tense thirty seconds as Applebloom and Scootaloo stood stock-still, feeling the gaze of bystanders who had stopped to watch two ponies try and get into Ponyville station.

Suddenly, without warning, the soldiers retracted their weapons, armor plating sliding back over the weapon’s cavity, and lowered their legs.

“Claim verified,” one said.

“Welcome to Ponyville station,” the other said flatly. “Do not loiter. Do not enter restricted areas. Please leave your basket here at the entrance.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Applebloom dismissed, taking the picnic basket off her back and putting it at the foot of the steps. “C’mon, Scoots. Ah reckon the train’s almost here, seein’ how fast we got th’ green light.”

The pair walked up the stairs, and entered the station platform. Ponyville station wasn’t big -- it was essentially a shack with a wooden platform and one set of steps, but it still rated a rather intimidating six-soldier presence -- two at the stairs, two more standing at the corners of the platform proper, and two more beyond the tracks, guarding the other side from unauthorized would-be boarders.

Stopping unauthorized migrants was serious business. Even the platform had very clearly picked-out zones -- ponies unauthorized to board the train had to stand here, ponies authorized to board stood here, so on. There were even designated and segregated areas for unicorns to board in such a way that they wouldn’t get within three metres of a pegasus or earth pony.

There was a faint whistle from further down the tracks, and Scootaloo and Applebloom both leaned forward a bit to see the train approaching steadily, black smoke from the smokestack trickling up into the sky.

Once upon a time, the train that ran the Ponyville to Canterlot route had gone by the name of “the Friendship Express”, with brightly-painted exterior, and a rather cute heart motif. As the train pulled up to the station, Scootaloo was reminded once again of how things had changed; now the drab, reinforced-metal vehicle was just another machine in the Regent’s vast arsenal, used more for official business than pleasure these days, and with a constant guard of no less than ten clockwork soldiers to ensure it stayed that way.

A door clacked as it was unbolted, and it slid to the side with a rattle, revealing a slender white unicorn with a lusciously curling pink and purple mane and a crisp-looking white button-up jacket -- it was very fashionable wear, and when your bigger sister was the biggest name in fashion these days, somewhat inescapable.

“Sweetie Belle!” Scootaloo called out.

“Hey girls!” Sweetie Belle called out, hopping out of the carriage, followed by two immaculately-painted clockwork soldiers in white and purple livery. “I hope there wasn’t too much trouble getting here.”

“Nope,” Applebloom shook her head. “We did get double-checked by th’ guards at the door, though. What was that all about?”

“Oh,” Sweetie Belle hummed as she quickly crossed into the waiting zone, so she could give her friend a hug. “I think there was a case of somepony lying, saying they were gonna wait for an official so they could get into Manehattan station. They made a break for the train, tried to slip in before anypony could stop ‘em. Forgot about the soldiers on the train.”

“What happened?” Scootaloo asked, moving in for a hug of her own.

“Exactly what you’d expect,” Sweetie Belle muttered, holding the hug for a few moments before breaking off. “Unauthorized boarding of a train -- punishable by ten to twenty years in the penal mines.”

“What are you,” Scootaloo asked, eyebrow raised as she smiled. “The Regent’s Big Book o’ Law?”

“Still weirds me out that y’all are becomin’ a lawyer,” Applebloom muttered.

“I’d go back to singing, but there isn’t much to sing about these days, is there?” Sweetie Belle replied, leading the way back towards the steps. “Besides, somepony has to make sure everypony plays to the letter of the law,” she added, “and not the spirit of the law, like some ponies believe it should be.”

“Disgustin’,” Applebloom snorted as they went down the stairs, earning a brief reaction from the soldiers as she picked up the picnic basket again.

“I know, right?” Sweetie Belle took a deep breath of the frosty air and sighed. “You expect this sort of stuff from the nobles, perhaps, but from the average Canterlotian unicorn?”

“Can we stop talking about work?” Scootaloo asked.

“You’re right,” Sweetie Belle shook her head. “Sorry, Scoots. Where are we going today?”

“Ah was thinkin’ out by Fluttershy’s old place,” Applebloom posited. “Looked real nice a few days ago, real quiet-like.”

“I like the sound of it already,” Sweetie Belle voted, turning around to fund and looking to her escort soldiers. “You two can wait here, okay?”

One of the soldiers nodded stiffly. “Very well.”

Sweetie Belle brightened, and turned back around.“Lead on, ‘Bloom.”

======

The outskirts of Ponyville were probably the closest anypony could get to what Ponyville was like before. This far out, the sounds of industry were barely a whisper on the breeze, and you could pretend that it was just one of those days when the weather team accidentally dumped all the snowclouds at once.

You know, if you ignored the steady streams of dark smoke seeping into the sky from numerous smokestacks in town. Industrial forges or home fires, didn’t matter, both ran pretty much 24/7.

The three Crusaders trudged through the snow along a path that had long-since been buried, clip-clopping over a small arched bridge that protruded through the snow to get them across a small, frosty creek.

“Where’s Fluttershy’s cottage?” Sweetie Belle asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Eh,” Applebloom shrugged. “Snowfall caught up with it an’ all. Buried it good, Ah reckon it’s that hill over there,” Applebloom pointed a hoof roughly where she thought the cottage was, “But Ah could be wrong. Never was th’ best navigatin’ pony.”

“Well,” Sweetie shrugged. “I guess this is a good a place as any to set up the blanket.”

“I dunno if we should be here,” Scootaloo said warily, brushing snow off an old sign to reveal a very clear message involving an equine skull. “This is a restricted area, apparently.”

“We’ll be fine,” Sweetie Belle reassured without looking. “As usual, that only applies to pegasi and earth ponies trying to skip town. You two are with me, after all. I mean, if you guys don’t mind playing the “subservient pony” role, that is.”

“Whatever keeps us outta a shallow grave,” Scootaloo muttered, walking back over to the picnic site and helping Applebloom get the blanket spread out.

As the friends worked to set up the picnic, Scootaloo was struck by nostalgia. For the first time in years, the three were together again, and all was well. No Equestria-wide turmoil, no burgeoning insurrections getting put down, just three friends getting a chance to hang out like they used to.

Applebloom. Growing up, she’d taken after her sister in sense, developing a stocky, sturdy build that could only come of being an earth pony with a vigorous tree-kicking regime. Her talent extended a little beyond apples, though, with her cutie mark of an apple with clockwork innards -- the girl was a whiz with the clockwork that infested Equestria these days, and it meant that outside of applebuck season, she could always find work fixing what was broken, even if she didn’t get nearly the kind of money she’d have liked for it, or the level of respect inferior unicorn repairponies got. Still, thanks to her relation to Applejack, she certainly got more respect than most earth ponies in her position would have gotten.

Sweetie Belle. Moved to Canterlot with Rarity and her family at the outset of the Second Equestrian Civil War, along with her bell-and-microphone cutie mark and talent for singing. She could have had her pick of the industry in the years that followed, but she set it aside in favor of a career in law. She was one of the few canterlot unicorns that didn’t like the Regent’s new rule, but rather than openly rebel and get herself executed -- or worse -- she decided to fight the system from the inside, exploiting loopholes to try and save as many ponies as she could from the new, increasingly lethal, legal system. Throwing herself into legal texts with a hunger that would have impressed a certain purple unicorn librarian, she quickly made it past the bar exam, and made a career in defending earth ponies and pegasi brought before the court as best as she could. Her success rate was low, thanks to unfair laws making watertight cases, but as she’d said in letters back to Ponyville, “every successful defense is a step forward”.

And then there was herself. The pegasus who never got to fly. As a foal, she’d always wanted to soar, but small wings had always robbed her of that dream. And of course, by the time her wings had grown enough to fly, Equestria was already under the clockwork, iron hoof of the new Regent, a Regent that forbade flight and pegasus weather-manipulation, on pain of death. And that had been when she’d finally gotten her cutie mark, the last of the Crusaders to get theirs -- a trio of starbursts in three colors and three sizes, yellow, orange and red. What it meant was beyond her, though -- was her talent explosions? Was her destiny to commit grand sabotage?

As they broke out the sandwiches and Scootaloo munched on a cucumber sandwich, barely tasting the newly-rarified filling (cucumbers didn’t like to grow well in three foot of snow, along with everything else vying for a place in a greenhouse), she thought back to their days adventuring. They’d blown up a few things in their time, sure, but she didn’t remember them being spectacular or anything. Well, aside from the fact that more than a few had allowed her to simulate flight for a brief moment, that was.

Scootaloo took a deep breath. Those were the days, alright.

“Hey, Scoot!”

Scootaloo snapped out of it, looked at the half-sandwich in her hoof, and back up at Applebloom, who seemed agitated.

“I’m sorry,” Scootaloo blinked. “I kind of drifted off for a moment there. You were saying something about snowponies?”

“What?” Applebloom shook her head. “No, we got soldiers headin’ over this way.”

Scootaloo blinked and sat up; in the distance, a pair of metallic soldiers were trudging through the snow, making a beeline straight for them.

“Somehow,” Scootaloo remarked, “I don’t think they’re happy about us being past that restricted area sign.”

“Relax,” Sweetie said, getting up and tossing her mane with a flick of her head. “I’ll deal with it. No problem, you’ll see.”

The unicorn used her magic to shake off the snow that still clung to her, and with a confident smile, left Scootaloo and Applebloom to go and meet the soldiers half-way. The two non-unicorns watched on anxiously.

“Ah’m gettin’ a bad feelin’ about this,” Applebloom muttered, pushing her scarf up her face to cover her mouth.

“I’m pretty sure nopony’s allowed to be here,” Scootaloo agreed. “I think Sweetie’s playing the race card a little too hard.”

“Go figure,” Applebloom said, getting up with a crunch of snow as Sweetie Belle’s posture changed from confidence to outrage, muffled shouts audible over the frosty distance. “Th’ one time she actually uses her horn for an advantage, an’ it goes wrong.”

Scootaloo listened to the muffled shouting. The distance was too great and the snow too dampening to hear much, but Sweetie’s tone was steadily rising. Scootaloo leapt to her hooves as the discussion suddenly escalated, in the form of a steel hoof being wound back.

“Sweetie Belle!” Applebloom yelled, galloping forward through the snow hard and fast, making for the two soldiers and the fallen unicorn, Scootaloo hot on her tail. The two soldiers turned around stiffly to see the two oncoming ponies, and held up hooves to point at them.

“Halt,” one said. “You have trespassed into a restricted area by order of the Regent! The penalty is death!”

“Submit now and be arrested!” demanded the other soldier.

“Arrest this!” Applebloom shouted, darting in close, and with a spin and a spray of snow, bucked the clockwork soldier hard in the chestplate with a resounding CLANG. The machine staggered backwards from the force of the strike, and Applebloom grinned behind her scarf.

A grin that was wiped off almost instantly by the other soldier who responded with a solid buck of its own; with a click of latches and a spin of a loaded flywheel, the pressure was released, and Applebloom took a solid hit to her ribs, crying out in pain as she flew away and landed in the snow not far from the stunned Sweetie belle.

Scootaloo snorted, and charged in for her own attack, leaping into the air for a flying double-kick on the soldier’s head.

“Leave my friends alone!” she shouted.

There was a second CLANG, but this time, the soldier didn’t so much as flinch. Scootaloo, on the other hand, felt it a lot more than the soldier did, shouting in pain as her left rear fetlock was twisted. She landed hard on the snow, on her side, and rolled quickly as a steel hoof slammed into the powder where her head had been just before. Scrambling upright as best as she could with three hooves, she hissed in pain as she spared her leg a look, and opened her mouth in surprise when she looked back at the soldier and saw nothing but the business end of the laser.

“Oh, horseapples.”

There was a flash of lightning, a loud zap, and the sensation of great speed, before she felt a heavy impact on her back, and the world winked out.

======

Scootaloo coughed as she sat up, and groaned in the dark. Everything was dark around her. What had happened? She’d tried to attack the soldier... oh Celestia, she attacked the soldier.

Scootaloo got up gingerly, and felt herself over -- aside from a sore back and her fetlock, she seemed surprisingly well-off for somepony arrested or summarily executed by one of the clockwork soldiers.

So she probably wasn’t dead or arrested. So where was she? Scootaloo blinked, and looked around as her eyes adjusted to the gloom. She took a breath, and shivered. It was so very cold in here.

As she took a tentative step forward, she heard a creak and felt the snow-dusted wood beneath her hooves. She took another one, and felt an aged rug. As the dark shapes of mouldering furniture and old birdhouses swam into focus, Scootaloo recognized where she was.

“Fluttershy’s house...” she looked around for how she’d gotten in, and saw it fairly quickly -- in the main doorway, there was shattered wood around, like something had been punched through the doorway, followed by a heavy slope of snow. Scootaloo felt her back, and assumed the thing had been her -- the soldier must have smashed her with a kinesis beam. Lucky her.

Scootaloo looked around some more. Now all she had to do was find a way out, quickly. The main door wasn’t an option, she’d be there for days getting that snow out of the way -- it was a wonder how she’d gotten through the damn thing in the first place.

Up and out, then. Scootaloo turned and ran for the steps up to the second floor -- and gasped when she accidentally tried to run on her twisted fetlock. After a hasty recovery, she adjusted her gait and made her way up the stairs at a brisk hobble. Angling left, she pushed open the first door she found, and stepped into a familiar room.

Fluttershy’s room. Fluttershy’s bed still sat where it had always sat, and Scootaloo was reminded of a close encounter with a cocatrice just by looking at it. Other than that, though, the room seemed to be devoid of personal knick knacks. Fluttershy must have taken them with her when she disappeared at the start of the second Equestrian Civil War. It was a testament to how quiet she’d been that nopony even noticed she’d vanished, until soldiers had come knocking, and found the place long since abandoned. Where she’d gone, nopony could say, save for her animals, which had skipped town along with her.

Scootaloo shook her head, and squinted. The room seemed lighter, light was seeping into the room somehow. A thin patch of ice? She covered an eye with one hoof, and spotted the brightest patch of the room -- Fluttershy’s closet, one of the doors hanging ajar. She hobbled over to it, and pulled the doors open completely.

Part of the ceiling of the closet had collapsed over the years, for whatever reason, revealing an equal-sized hole in the roof. Regardless of what had caused it, the snow had gradually covered and eventually iced over the hole in the roof entirely, sealing it up once more. But not nearly as thickly as it sealed the windows and doors of the house, as proven by the weak light that shone through.

Scootaloo looked for something with which to break the ice, and her eye fell on the other side of Fluttershy’s closet. An old dress hung there, Scootaloo vaguely recalled it being Fluttershy’s old gala dress -- it looked as good as ever, oddly enough, barring a few patch jobs. The cold must have preserved the fabric well. Didn’t make it any more useful against the snowy ice ceiling, though. Scootaloo pushed it along the rail, revealing another item of clothing.

Sturdy purple fabric and a dark blue bodysuit hung limp on the clotheshanger, a hat affixed to a hood that bent over backwards to look at Scootaloo with sky-blue lenses, and even upside-down, Scootaloo recognized the emblem on the breast of the costume.

“Mare Do Well...?” Scootaloo rubbed her head. “What the hay? Fluttershy was Mare Do Well?”

The suit just stared back at Scootaloo, and twisted slightly as if looking at it’s own sagging leggings and the wrappings at the end of them. Wrappings that hung oddly, as if they had metal shoes in them...

Scootaloo’s eyes brightened. Metal shoes could help her punch through the ice! She quickly pulled the costume off the hanger, and reached inside for the metal shoes. She grunted in frustration as her hoof merely batted the legging around, the shoes clearly sewn right into the suit.

“Fine, if that’s how you wanna be,” she muttered, dropping the costume to shuck her jacket and scarf, sensing they’d be an obstruction to donning the outfit, and then opening up the neck hole and stepping into the bodysuit briskly. She shivered as her hooves sank deeper into the garment, and grunted as she squeezed the bodysuit on over her twisted fetlock. Once she had all four hooves firmly settled into each legging and her wings slipped into the convenient pockets, she looked at herself.

If only she was a filly again, she’d have given her right wing for a chance to wear Mare Do Well’s costume. The costume actually fit pretty well, and despite the fact that it had sat in a dark, natrual freezer for fifteen years, it was warming up quite fast, insulating her from the chill. Scootaloo stamped her hooves, and felt solid reassurance from the metal shoes, grinning.

Enough cosplay, it was time to blow this popsicle stand.

She stepped back into the closet, and unfurling her wings, looked skyward, biting her lip. It had been a while since she’d flown at all, and while it wasn’t something a pegasus could just forget, it was still going to be risky. Especially since she was aiming for a hole not much bigger than herself.

Scootaloo reached back, and pulled the hood down over her face to take advantage of the eyepieces to shield her eyes from what she was about to do, and prayed to Celestia that this went the way she wanted it.

======

Applebloom sank back down onto the snow, breathing hard. After Scootaloo had been slammed backwards into the side of the nearest snowhill by one of the soldiers, and a quick snowball from Sweetie Belle, she’d staggered to her hooves and gone round two with the soldiers. She couldn’t quite jump as high as Scootaloo could, but she could certainly kick harder, a talent she put to use.

Picking her attacks a lot more carefully now that she’d made a mistake, she lashed out with quick kicks to the leg joints, and carefully baited the soldiers into following her away from Sweetie Belle. A job not made easier by the fact that Sweetie Belle had a similar idea regarding the injured Applebloom and involving periodic snowballs to get the attention of the soldiers.

The only benefit was that the guard with the exposed laser had to divide his time between the two polar opposite targets, which meant the ever slower-moving Applebloom was only having to dodge stunning lasers half the time.

“Any ideas?” Applebloom puffed, darting to the side to avoid yet another beam of energy, and feeling her entire side go numb -- luckily, it was her bruised side, so at least she was in less pain now. Cider barrel half full, and all that.

“I’ve got nothing!” Sweetie Belle shouted back. “Make a run for it?”

“Not likely,” Applebloom shouted back, ducking under a straight-right from the soldier. “We’ll just run into a town fulla’ soldiers!”

Sweetie Belle dived to avoid another laser, and threw her head back, drawing in a deep breath.

“HEEEELLLLLP!”

There was an explosion of snow that shot up into the air with a whump, getting Applebloom and Sweetie Belle’s attention. The snow fell down and away from the figure hovering in the air, dark blue coat and long, tapering purple collar flapping in the winter breeze, purple-covered wings holding the figure aloft as they surveyed the ground below with an unreadable gaze.

“Mare Do Well?” Applebloom breathed.

The soldier noticed her attention being drawn elsewhere, and spared the caped pegasus a look, before turning to face her properly and deploying its laser.

“Halt!” the soldier called out. “Unidentified citizen! Identify yourself!”

Mare Do Well just looked at him, and with a beat of wings, went into a steep dive, aiming straight for the soldier. Alarmed, the autonomous machine let out a digital squawk of alarm before firing a laser at the oncoming pegasus -- Mare Do Well performed a swift aileron roll, and the beam passed her by as she flared her wings and descended, rear-right hoof first.

Blue clad hoof met steel face, and the machine stumbled as the pegasus slammed into it at speed, bounced off, and landed gracefully on the ground, posture low and ready to attack.

======

Scootaloo resisted the urge to giggle like a lunatic as the robot staggered backwards from the force of the attack, and shook out her good hoof a little, feeling the backlash just a bit, even through the shoes. One of these days, she’d find out how Applebloom got away with kicking everything without shoes on.

She looked at the surprised soldier, and allowed herself a small smile. She’d always dreamed of doing that to a clockwork soldier, with their stupid- uh oh.

She spun to the side as a searing beam of heat shot past her, and saw the second soldier turning to face her, along with the newly-recovered soldier. Suddenly, attacking the soldiers didn’t seem like such a hot idea. She ducked another laser, and with a hard flap of her wings, launched herself into the air towards the second soldier, spinning around with a rear hoof outstretched.

There was another satisfying clang of metal shoe on metal jaw, and the soldier’s jaw was wrenched sideways by the attack. Scootaloo landed gracefully on the ground, forgetting her left fetlock once more, and gasping in pain as she dropped to one knee, spoiling her landing.

She paid for it when the soldier responded with a solid kick to the ribs, sending her across the snow to land between the two soldiers, who approached her with thaumic lasers warming up.

“Submit and be terminated,” one growled, a sizable dent in the middle of its face.

Scootaloo got up, and  looked from soldier to soldier, one on each side, and smiled. The Clockwork soldiers weren’t that fast. And they weren’t that clever; with a pegasus target between them, it might just be possible to bamboozle them for long enough. If she timed it right...

She closed her eyes, hearing the crunch of snow as they got closer, the thrum of magical power through their laser armatures. She willed herself to stay calm, loosening her wings from under her cape, and breathing deeply.

Rainbow Dash could do it. I can do it.

Just as she felt the thrum reach a crescendo, she snapped out her wings. She heard the snick of gears in the soldiers as whatever passed for a brain decided the lasers were ready to fire. She bent her legs slightly, and heard flywheels beginning to spin in the soldiers as they realized she was about to take off, and tried to adjust their aim accordingly. She sprang up into the air as circuits were closed, and energy surged into the crystals. And with a beat of her wings, she shot up into the sky as two beams of light jumped forth, tried to intercept her, and missed by inches. Scootaloo felt the heat of the beams through the metal shoes, and heard the impacts as the crossed beams found a target each -- but not the target they’d been looking for.

Scootaloo flipped forward, and landed back on the snow with a whump, this time remembering her twisted fetlock and sticking the landing properly, just as circuits blew in the newly-headless clockwork soldiers, and the machines collapsed like mannequins with their strings cut, smoke tricking into the air from the metal bodies from melted necks.

She held the pose for about three seconds, before leaping back up into the air, and pumping a hoof.

“Oh yeah!” she crowed. “Who’s da mare? I’m da mare! Whoop whoop!”

“Scootaloo?” Applebloom gasped, cantering through the snow to the masked pegasus. “Is that you?”

“You know it!” Scootaloo replied, grinning as she pulled the mask back. “Did you see that? Did you see that? I was all like, bam! Pow!”

“That was awesome!” Sweetie Belle exclaimed, joining them as she nursed a shallow cut on her forehead. “Where did the suit come from?”

“This?” Scootaloo plucked at the Mare Do Well costume. “I found it, actually. In Fluttershy’s old closet.”

“Fluttershy... was Mare Do Well?” Applebloom frowned. “That’s just... wierd. But it also kinda makes sense an’ all, Ah suppose. Mare Do Well always was like Rainbow Dash’s opposite...”

“But it doesn’t make sense,” argued Sweetie Belle. “Remember how Mare Do Well put the dam back together with magic? No way that was a pegasus then.”

“Huh.” Applebloom scratched her head. “Perhaps Fluttershy was, like, a super-quiet fangirl of Mare Do Well’s?” The apple farming mare shrugged “Anyway, what’ll we do now?”

The three friends looked around at what had been a pristine picnic site -- now there was a sizable furrow and snowslide in the side of a snowhill where Scootaloo had been thrown, churned snow everywhere, a forgotten picnic blanket and sandwiches, and splashes of red where Sweetie belle had fallen and been standing during the fight.

And the broken, headless clockwork soldiers. Couldn’t forget those.

“Uh,” Sweetie Belle coughed. “I think I should apologize, here.”

“Why?” Scootaloo asked.

“Well, you saw that sign, and I just blew you off,” Sweetie said, looking down. “If I’d listened, we might have set up our picnic somewhere else, and none of this would have happened.”

“Apology accepted,” Scootaloo said. “If this hadn’t happened, I never would have found this sweet costume. I’m keeping this, by the way.”

“No sweat, Sweetie,” Applebloom dismissed. “Hay, it was just like old times, gettin’ inter trouble again for bein’ where we shouldn’t.”

“Speaking of trouble,” Sweetie pointed out, “We should get outta here quick, before more soldiers find us. As tough as our Mare Do Well is,” Sweetie said, looking at Scootaloo with a smile, “I think we’d be beyond lucky to get away with that again.”

“Y’all are right,” Applebloom nodded. “Ah’ll grab the picnic stuff, that’s an Apple Family blanket, we don’t need that givin’ us away and all.”

“I’ll go change out of the costume,” Scootaloo said.

“I guess I’ll try and hide the bodies then,” Sweetie said with a sigh as the other two split off. She focused her horn on the snow around the collapsed bodies, and after poking them so they lay flat, began to heap snow on top of them, carefully sculpting what she hoped looked like a natural hill.

She sighed again, and looked at her jacket, doing a double-take when she saw a splotch of red blood on the white jacket.

Rarity was going to kill her.