Mare-Do-Well: Genesis

Chapters

Prologue
Chapter One: Taking Up the Role
Chapter Two: The Mark
Chapter Three: Broken Strings
Chapter Four: Fire and Steel
Chapter Five: Pain
Chapter Six: Crescendo

Prologue

OLD MANEHATTAN COURTHOUSE

EARLY MORNING

The crowd of criminal mares and stallions crowded the courtroom, calling out, whooping and jeering maliciously as a bruised and battered-looking Trixie stepped up to the judge's stand. The room was old, the abandoned building part of a run-down area of the city which had fallen victim to neglect. The deriliction of this particular hall of justice was showing all too well, with murky windows allowing in the dim moonlight and flickering electric lamps doing the rest of the work. Trixie sneered, clopping a hoof down loudly on the podium. The crowd fell quiet as an orange-coated, blank-flanked and silent young mare, a brown bag covering her head, was dragged up to a chair before the Judge and forced into the seat. The mare's hooves were tied down uncomfortably with thick ropes by the gruff looking ponies to either side of her. The rotting brown sack was lifted, revealing the rage-filled face of a teenage Scootaloo, her purple mane scruffy and unkempt due to her rough treatment.

"This court is now in session!" Trixie barked, clopping a hoof once again on the podium. She smoothed back her silvery mane, revealing yet another bruise on her cheek. "The defendant sits before me, charged with the crime of being a resident of Ponyville, the despicable township which mocked and derided me after my mistakes!" Trixie's voice had heightened to a roar, but she quickly calmed herself and continued. How does the defendant plead?" She leaned over the podium to sneer down at Scootaloo, who stared back indignantly.

"I live in Ponyville.. And I'm proud of that." She asserted coldly. Trixie smiled sadistically.

"Guilty of the charges.. She is one of the ponies who mocked me, did her part by helping to deny me my title as the greatest unicorn in all Equestria! The sentence.. execution!" Trixie clopped a hoof down on the podium a final time, her horn glowing with a magical aura. A battered shotgun was floated from behind the podium, magically loading with shells and aiming directly at the head of the now-panicked Scootaloo.

There was a thuderous shattering of glass as the dark, grim figure of Mare-Do-Well dropped in through the window behind Trixie, her dark cape flapping triumphantly as she smashed heavily through the ancient, warped glass. The masked hero spun on her hooves, bucking Trixie hard in the head. The swift buck sent Trixie falling to the floor, the magical aura disappating and dropping the shotgun from her grasp. The firearm went off, blasting a series of holes in the wooden wall panelling beside Scootaloo, much to her amazement. She cheered Mare-Do-Well on as she leapt over Trixie's podium to do battle with the other criminal elements in the room, sending energetic hoof-bucks and punches flying, knocking whole groups at a time out cold. Once all of the villainous colts and mares lay in crumpled heaps on the floor, bruised and incapacitated, the masked hero finally rushed to untie Scootaloo. With a slash of the ropes from a hoof-mounted blade, she was free.

"Th.. Thanks! If it wasn't for you, I'd be dead." Scootaloo stuttered, a joyful grin on her face. The Mysterious Mare-Do-Well, in keeping with her namesake, simply gave a silent nod of approval. Scootaloo stood slowly, stretching her legs. She was about to turn and leave the courthouse when the sound of a thunderous BANG! echoed around the courtroom. Mare-Do-Well staggered forward a few steps, slow clopping sounds thudding dully on the threadbare carpet below. Dark spots of liquid fell from her side, thudding almost silently as they impacted on the carpeted floor. Scootaloo could do nothing but stand still, rooted to the spot in horror as the hero collapsed to the floor. Trixie was standing again, leaning against her podium, beaten and only half aware of the surroundings as she held up the now-smoking shotgun in her magical field.

"You.. You killed.." Scootaloo uttered breathlessly as Trixie's bruised and scarred face twisted into a wide-eyed, malicious smile.

"I killed her.." She coughed up a little blood. "I killed Mare-Do-Well." Trixie let out a hoarse laugh as Scootaloo approached. "Back off! I'll shoot!" Scootaloo thought for a moment before continuing her advance confidently.

"You're out of shells." The now-smirking Scootaloo uttered. Trixie floated the weapon closer and clicked it open in an attempt to reload. In her state of shock from the recent buck she had recieved, she noticed only too late that Scootaloo was lying. For the second time that night, she recieved a set of hooves to the face, this time from the young mare. Trixie staggered back, falling through the already half-shattered window, disappearing into the dim alley behind the courthouse. A dull thud confirmed her impact with the ground.

Scootaloo rushed Mare-Do-Well. She lay on her side, silent apart from a heavy, rasping inhalation and exhalation. Dark liquid began to stain the carpet around her, her life leaving her quickly. She raised a hoof weakly, beckoning Scootaloo closer.

"What.. What am I gonna do? You can't die.. Don't die.." Scootaloo whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. Mare-Do-Well simply looked up at her, then uttered in a cold voice,

"Scootaloo. Yes, I know you.. You know me, under the mask." The hero raised her hooves weakly, slipping the hat and mask off slowly. Scootaloo looked upon her face. "Never reveal this. My lack of identity is my power over others" Scootaloo nodded. "I don't have long.." The cyan mare let out a loud cough, blood trickling from her mouth. "Either you keep the costume, or you destroy it. Don't leave it here." She let out another cough, the breath beginning to leave her. Scootaloo could only watch with tear-filled eyes as a friend and a hero took her last breath. Then, her head fell to the side, thudding with finality on the floor.

Scootaloo leaned a hoof forward, taking the hat and mask from the deceased hero's body. Ideas began forming in her mind. Absurd, fantastical ideas. A cold sense of realisation washed over Scootaloo, her eyes widening. The bright disc of the sun rose, light reflecting through the shattered panes of the back window. The golden light illuminated the room. The bodies of the beaten thugs, the fallen hero, and the lone figure of Mare-Do-Well's successor, Scootaloo.

Chapter One: Taking Up the Role

PONYVILLE LIBRARY

MIDDAY, 2 DAYS LATER

The bright Celestian sunlight filtered gently through the windows of the Ponyville Library, illuminating the many bookshelves and the figures of Twilight, Scootaloo and a busily-working Spike, whom was carrying stacks of dusty tomes back and forth. His mumbled comments of distaste at the workload he was completing fell on deaf ears.

"Thanks for letting me look through the archives, Twilight.. It's been a big help." Scootaloo smiled, trotting past the purple-maned mare. Twilight returned the smile, flipping through a book with her magic as the teenage mare began rooting through a box of meticulously stored and archived newspapers. Her eyes fell on one issue as memories returned to her, and she held back a pained sob when she saw the printed page. The most recent issue, bearing the title,

'EQUESTRIA'S FINEST FLYER KILLED BY UNKNOWN ASSAILANT IN MANEHATTAN, POSSIBLE SUSPECTS FOUND UNCONSCIOUS AT THE SCENE'

was quickly swept beneath other volumes as Scootaloo regained her composure.

"Looking for something in particular, Scootaloo?" Twilight asked, glancing over.

"Um.. Do you have anything on Mare-Do-Well?" Scootaloo asked, a weak grin on her face. Twilight nodded, cantering over to a box next to the one Scootaloo was looking through and opening it up to reveal another pile of newspapers inside.

"After our invention of the hero to teach Rainbow about boasting, somepony actually took up the name and started taking on all the bad stallions and mares in Equestria.." Twilight gave a little giggle. "But if you're looking for information on her, I'm sure you know all that already." Scootaloo gave a little nod, beginning to shuffle through the papers. Her face had lit up once more, curiosity washing away sorrow.

"I.. I wanted to know more about her. Or at least understand her a little better. She was.. Ineteresting. And I'm thinking of writing about her. Like a biography"

Twilight trotted back over to the last book she was studying, a smile widening on her face.

"I never took you for a writer, Scootaloo! But it's lovely to hear that you'd be writing about such a heroic mare." She nodded, once again settling down to study her book. Scootaloo stared down at the headline on the front page of the newspaper at the top of the pile;

'MARE-DO-WELL RETURNS TO SAVE EQUESTRIA'

Scootaloo read onward down the page, a photograph of the hero atop a building alongside the article, the caped mare standing defiantly, ready to leap off the edge.

'Reliable sources have claimed that the previously fictional hero, Mare-Do-Well, first invented by the residents of Ponyville to teach one certain resident a lesson about humility, has become a real vigilante force of justice in our land. Her first act of heroism has been performed at the heart of Equestria, Canterlot itself.'

A photograph of the royal city adorned another spot on the page.

'An attempt has been made on the life of our fair Princess Celestia by a mare revealed to be named Skyblue Blaze, a pegasus assassin under the employ of an as-yet unrevealed client. As Skyblue lined up the crosshairs of a ranged weapon to aim at the head of Princess Celestia (Who was spending a relaxing moment away from her duties on Canterlot Castle's highest tower at the time), the hero was reported by eyewitnesses to appear atop a higher building. Swooping down to give the assassin a swift buck with her rear hooves, Mare-Do-Well knocked Skyblue away from her weapon before it could be fired, dissasembling the weapon with a quick stomp and finally bucking the assassin again, knocking her into unconsciousness. The unconscious mare was found soon after by the Canterlot Royal Guard, laying in a heap on the rooftop and bound tightly with thick, metallic cables.'

Scootaloo took the newspaper in a hoof, searching through the rest of the newspapers full of articles on the hero. Twilight stepped closer, looking up from her book for a moment.

"Take whatever youwant from that collection, if it'll help with your writing." She said, smiling brightly. Scootaloo grinned, closing over the small crate.

"Thanks, Twilight!" she picked the crate up in her teeth by the small carrying-handle on the lid and carried it out of the library.

THE CMC CLUBHOUSE, 15 MINUTES LATER

Scootaloo entered the now-old and ragged-looking Cutie Mark Crusaders' clubhouse, setting down her new crate of newspaper articles on the desk at the back. At the generous offer or Applejack, she had been allowed to stay in the old clubhouse and use it to store any belongings she might have. Scootaloo breathed a silent thank you to AJ, giving a small smirk as she sat down at the desk and began flipping through the various collected headlines.

'MARE-DO-WELL SAVES TRAIN FULL OF CITIZENS, ASKS FOR NOTHING IN RETURN'

'APPLEOOSA ORPHANAGE CATCHES FIRE, MARE-DO-WELL RESCUES FOALS AND MAKES DONATIONS TO REBUILD SITE'

'HOOFSPIKE GANG FORCED OUT OF CANTERLOT BY BRAVE ACTIONS OF MARE-DO-WELL'

Scootaloo continued to dilligently study the actions and skills shown by the original Mare-Do-Well, scouring the articles for any useful information that might help her new career.

"Perfect.." Scootaloo mouthed, staring at a new headline.

'ORIGINAL MARE-DO-WELL OUTFIT DESIGNER, RARITY, DISPLAYS OUTFIT FOR CITIZENS OF PONYVILLE'

A smile spead on Scootaloo's face as she trotted outside, speeding to a gallop as she headed straight for the Carousel Boutique. Within a few minutes she burst through the doors, the jingling of the doorbell causing Rarity to turn and smile.

"Scootaloo, darling! Oh, I knew someday you'd come to your senses and let me give you a makeover! So what shall it be? A dress, a new hat, maybe some.." Scootaloo cut in.

"No, I.. Rarity, do you remeber Mare-Do-Well's costume?" Rarity was taken aback slightly.

"Of course I do, dear. In fact.. Follow me." Rarity gave a small smile and trotted over behind one of the counters dotted around the room, using her horn to lift the carpet away and open a metal panel in the floor, revealing a staircase. Scootaloo followed her down to the basement below the Boutique.

"I designed and assembled the costume down here.. It's my own personal workspace." Rarity explained, using her magic to flip a switch. The room was illuminated by a large flourescent strip-light on the ceiling, revealing a glass case with the prototype suit inside. Hung on the walls were complicated designs and blueprints for the costume, meticulously redesigned over and over and annotated in graceful, flowing script.

"Woah.. You really went all-out on the costume design, didn't you?" Scootaloo grinned.

"Of course, darling! the costume had to be something daring, unique, bold, strong, glamorous!" Rarity asserted, her voice raising in volume as she listed the qualities needed for the costume of such a hero. Scootaloo stepped closer to Rarity, speaking carefully.

"Listen, Rarity.. If I had a suit of my own, would you.. Be able to modify it?" Rarity turned, looking to the young mare and giving a nod. "I'd need to have the insides of the fabric armour padded, and.. I might have further modifications needed." Rarity smiled.

"My my, all of this will be a challenge.. But I'll see what I can do."

After a trip through the market to try finding assorted utilities such as some strong rope, flashlights and a fabric repair kit, Scootaloo returned to get Mare-Do-Well's bullet-punctured, now-washed costume and brought it back to the Boutique. bullet holes were repaired, fabrics thoroughly washed and cape ironed to perfection. After seeing the damage, Rarity had no doubt of Scootaloo's intentions. She spoke as she began slotting armour plating into the suit precisely with the aid of her magic, her tone grim.

"I know what you're intending to do, dear. I'd beg you not to, but.. I know it'll do no good at all. But I must ask you to do one thing, in exchange for my secret-keeping." Scootaloo nodded. "Be careful, darling. Even this armour can't stop everything."

"I know it can't, but.. Equestria needs Mare-Do-Well more than ever. Without me, who will save every unfortunate stallion, mare or foal who falls victim to the same kind of evil that almost killed me? The ones who killed.." Scootaloo choked down a sob. Rarity sighed, finishing her repairs and giving Scootaloo a comforting smile as she handed over the finished costume to her.

"Be careful, that's all I ask.. But your secret is safe with me." Rarity said with an uncharacteristically serious tone to her voice. Scootaloo only nodded, giving the dressmaker a thankful smile as she exited the Boutique.

As the darkening sun dipped below the horizon, the lone figure of Scootaloo stood over a table of assembled supplies in the old CMC clubhouse, the Mare-Do-Well costume laid out neatly in the centre of the objects. Donning the bodysuit, slipping into the boots and pulling the brim of the iconic hat over her suited head, Scootaloo felt a rush of energy course through her veins. These were humble beginnings for a hero, stood in an old building full of childhood memories. But she was determined to do her duty by taking up the responsibility of Equestria's greatest hero; Mare-Do-Well.

PONYVILLE ROOFTOPS, LATE AT NIGHT

The night air was cold, and Luna's silver moon floated high in the heavens as the new hero bounded over the rooftops of Ponyville. Inexperienced as she was, Scootaloo's knack for taking running leaps from rooftops and soaring downward to catch the wind and glide almost silently across to the next rooftop on her now-matured wings was improving. Within ten minutes of patrol, Scootaloo heard the faint sound of hooves speedily approaching the Sugarcube Corner. Gliding across a couple of rooftops, she quickly spotted the lone stallion turning to harshly buck the front door inward. Scootaloo steeled herself and put herself into the mindset that the suit demanded. She truly became Mare-Do-Well for the first time.

"Freakin'.. Open!" growled the stallion, bucking the door again, to no avail. Within a few seconds, the dark silouhette of Mare-Do-Well loomed over him. Turning, he recieved a hard buck to the head, knocking him effortlessly backward against the door, panicked voices now audible inside. The hero stood motionless in front of him, staring silently at him.

"You're going down." Mare-Do-Well uttered in a cold, harsh voice. With the title of the hero came a new identity, contrasted with the pony she became by day.

Within moments, the figures of Mr and Mrs Cake, along with a wide-awake and visibly excited Pinkie Pie pulled the front door of the Sugarcube Corner open to reveal the scene outside. A bruised and beaten stallion with a sour expression, bound tightly with ropes to prevent escape, and the triumphant figure of Mare-Do-Well standing a little further away, bathed in moonlight with her cape blowing and fluttering gently in the breeze.

"Make sure he's taken into custody." Mare-Do-Well uttered monotonely before galloping down the street, leaping over crates, onto market stalls and across rooves to disappear into the night.

ONE HOUR LATER, THE BORDER OF THE EVERFREE FOREST

"So here's how it's gonna go, lady. You give us all the bits you have on you right now, and we won't hurt you.. 'Kay?" The larger pegasus grunted. His scrawny cohort grinned.

"Well.. Not too much." She cackled, words muffled from the iron piping section she held in her teeth. Fluttershy stumbled back a little, sniffling as tears welled up in her eyes.

"P..Please don't.." She whimpered softly, stepping back even further. "I don't have any bits.. I didn't go shopping today, I.." The larger pegasus shook his head and motioned to the smaller, the skinny earth pony raising her head and getting ready to batter the butter-yellow, terrified mare. Out of nowhere, a dark shape swooped down from the nearest tree, a dark cape whipping viciously about to slap the attackers, stunning them. Fluttershy only ducked back and lay low to the ground, covering her head with her hooves and wrapping her wings around herself protectively. The dark figure of Mare-Do-Well sent a kick flying at the scrawny pipe-weilding mare, smacking her squarely in the jaw with a loud thud and an audible crack. She dropped to the floor, dazed, confused and near unconsciousness.

"Come on then, hero.." The large stallion said with a smirk, stomping closer. "Let's see how tough you really are!" Mare-Do-Well hesitated before trying another hard buck with her hind legs. This time, however, the expectant stallion rammed his body weight into her, knocking the hero off-balance. Once she toppled to the floor, pain immediately shot through her head as the opponent brought a hoof down on her skull. The world became a blur, hazy and dark with tinges of red. Dragging herself to her feet, Mare-Do-Well felt another set of hooves swiftly kick her in the side, knocking her down again. Her head felt terrible, her body battered and her mind overloaded with signals being sent to her brain, telling her that pain was being felt all over. In a moment of clarity, the hero lunged over to the discarded pipe, picking it up in a wing and hiding it beneath her cape. The stallion spoke.

"So I guess you ain't so tough.. Not surprised." He chuckled coldly. "Say goodnight." He lowered his head and dashed toward the still-dazed but now armed Mare-Do-Well, ready to ram his head into hers, doing permanent damage to her at the very least. In an instant, Mare-Do-Well leapt over the charging stallion, bringing down the pipe on his head with a loud crack. He crumpled to the floor loudly, as the heroic mare recovered from her wounds, dashing off into the night as the timid Fluttershy positively beamed.

"Thank you so much.." Her soft voice called to Mare-Do-Well as she disappeared into the dark.

Chapter Two: The Mark

WAREHOUSE, UNDISCLOSED AREA, CANTERLOT

LATE EVENING

"She's back. Look, I don't know how, I swear, but she's back." A stallion grunted, leaning forward in his chair. There were murmurs and grumbles from the assembled mares and stallions around the table. The air was stagnant and warm, despite the best efforts of the roof-mounted fan to keep the air circulating around the place. A hoof slammed down on the table, silencing all noise in the room bar the quiet buzzing of the electric lighting. A harsh, grating voice spoke out into the silent assembly.

"The hero is dead.. I was there." It spat coldly. A grim-looking unicorn on the other side of the table replied, floating a pile of photographs to the centre of the table. They landed with a light patter in the centre of the table for all to see.

"We have proof." He stated simply, motioning to the photographs with a hoof. The group began muttering again, until the harsh voice spoke out once more, killing all other conversation in an instant. The speaker moved toward the lit area of the table slowly.

"This mare cannot be the mare we knew." Her face emerged from the dark on the other end of the table, blue coat and silver mane looking ragged in the bad lighting. "I killed her." Trixie looked worse than ever before. Her face was further mangled from her fall out of the courthouse window. The panes of glass mixed with the impact on the floor had torn long, straight scars in her skin. Bones had healed over at somewhat unnatural angles, and so limbs appeared stiff and warped. Bruises covered her face, and damage to her vocal cords had been rudimentarily solved with the installation of an electronic mechanism fitted into her neck, keeping a fraction of her original voice, but now sounding more grating and eerily electronic. "Still.. Now, we must deal with this impostor. This successor, whoever they are. They must die." The mutterings and conversations began again. Amid the quiet coversing, an empty, detached-sounding voice rang out.

"How much are you willing to pay for Mare-Do-Well's corpse?" The assembly turned to look.

A scruffy-looking young earth pony mare sat motionless in her seat, hooves crossed over her chest. She had a grey coat and a mane of dirty, stringy white hair. Her eyes, although maddened-looking and dark, remained in an almost permanently half closed, depressed-looking state. The dark circles around them did little to help the fact. "I'm expecting a lot." Her mouth lifted into a twisted smirk. A stallion barked out angrily.

"What, do you think you're something special? Big deal.. I bet you couldn't hurt a fly."

"Oh.. I wouldn't underestimate.. I would not.." She spoke in a detached voice, standing up and slowly moving over to him. She leaned down, moving her face close to his and placing a hoof on his shoulder. "You know.. Putting your victim to ease before ending them is usually the easiest way to kill.. And if thinking that I'm harmless puts you to ease, I'm glad." She let out a bored sigh as she twisted his head with the other hoof casually, breaking his windpipe. He crumpled out of his chair and to the floor. The room fell into shocked silence.

"Ten-thousand bits." Trixie's voice called out to the silence.

"Make it twenty and we have a deal. My services don't come cheap." The mare spoke.

"Done" Came the reply as Trixie smirked. The mare nodded gracefully and produced a small, blank-looking business card, tossing it onto the table before calmly leaving through the door at the opposite end of the dimly-lit room. On it were the words;

THE PROFESSIONAL

'The job done right, for the right price.'

CMC CLUBHOUSE, PONYVILLE

LATE EVENING

Mare-Do-Well stumbled into the clubhouse, staggering toward the bathroom area at the rear as the door banged shut. The hat and mask were yanked off and tossed to the side, flapping onto the table. The bruised face of the young mare Scootaloo swam into view in the grimy mirror. She watched herself as she removed the suit, checking over her wounds.

"Celestia.. I look terrible.." She uttered, admiring the exent to which her face had darkened from bruising. Her head still throbbed with pain as she tended to a scratch on her forehead and then fumbled in the sink cabinets for something to mask the bruising from the eyes of her friends when morning came.

After tending to her wounds, finding and preparing makeup for the bruising and taking a shower, Scootaloo drew the curtains and locked the door to the clubhouse, settling down and curling up to sleep on the sofa which she used for a bed. Vivid dreams flashed through her mind, dark images of Mare-Do-Well mingling with the memories contained in the clubhouse - childhood fun, times that she had cherished so much since those days.

The next morning, the still-aching Scootaloo made her way into the centre of Ponyville, ducking through crowds of ponies. She settled down at Sugarcube Corner, ordering up a cupcake and slouching down to sit at a table at the back. Pinkie Pie bounced over soon after, grinning madly and hopping incessantly as usual.

"Hey Scootaloo!" She squealed, leaning over the table and placing down the cupcake. "How ya doin'?" Scootaloo offered a weak smile, scooping up the confectionery in a hoof.

"Thanks, Pinkie.. I'm okay, just a bit.. Tired." She sighed. Pinkie listened attentively.

"Awww.. That's too bad! I hope the cupcake makes you feel better!" Pinkie nodded Scootaloo began munching down the treat. "Oh! Did you know that Mare-Do-Well saved Sugarcube Corner? It happened last night!" Scootaloo's mouth curled into a little smile and she let her hair fall over hair face a little.

"She.. She did? That's great!" Scootaloo beamed, finishing off the cupcake.

"Mmhm! Ooh, I'll have to go, Scootaloo.. Customers are piling up, and I can't stop off and talk to you forever, or I'd never get to serve them! And if I never get to serve them, then who wi-" Scootaloo sighed and shook her head, standing up and holding a hoof over Pinkie's rapidly-moving mouth to silence her.

"Off you go, Pinkie." She smirked, trotting off and out through the shop door.

An hour or so later, Scootaloo lay on a grassy hill overlooking a high cliff, relaxing for a while. The constant rush of the waterfall that tumbled down the cliff ahead was calming, and the mare found herself staring into the cool waters for a long time, the sparkling droplets reflecting the glittering sun. She moved closer, slowly testing the waters with a hoof. Cold, but not icy. After a moment's deliberation, she stepped under and let the water wash over her, feeling clean and refreshed in the natural shower.

"Huh?.." She uttered, her voice echoing a little . Beyond the waterfall was a dark tunnel leading inside the stone cliff-face. Scootaloo proceeded inward. Wind whistled through the natural tunnel, and the sound of dripping water echoed all around at random intervals. Scootaloo's slow hoofsteps thudded along the tunnel walls. she took note of the fact that, although currently-unlit, a string of lightbulbs were installed into the uneven rock ceiling of the tunnel, thick cables snaking along the roof between them. The young mare continued onward, and suddenly came to a halt after ascending a set of metal steps, built on an iron frame set into the sloping cavern and bound to it with steel cables. Stepping forward, the sudden activation of lighting in the tunnel behind her and the room beyond took Scootaloo by surpise. She squinted in the bright glare of white light.

As her vision adjusted, she could now clearly see a huge cavern, brightly lit by floodlights perched high on metal framework suspended from the ceiling. The sight of a large, futuristic-looking computer booting up and displaying the Mare-Do-Well symbol confirmed her suspicions, and she stepped forward to sit at the high-backed leather chair. Pressing a hoof to the scanner on the keypad, she found that the computer would not open up to her command. After a flash of inspiration and a trip back to the clubhouse, Scootaloo returned to the cavern. Donning the costume of Mare-Do-Well, she once again pressed her hoof to the computer panel. Recognising the pattern of the fabric and armour shape of the boot, The computer extended a small device and scanned the masked Scootaloo with a thin, laser-like ray of electric blue light. Accepting the facial scan, the screen flared to life, displaying the message,

"WELCOME BACK, MARE-DO-WELL." Under the mask, Scootaloo positively beamed. Tapping at the keypad with her hooves, she accessed the main menu. A myriad of options and applications appeared on-screen. There was access to criminal records, commands to open other areas in the Lair such as living quaters and a workshop, reconfiguration systems for the suit Scootaloo now wore, and even a storage area filled with Mare-Do-Well's signature equipment. The realisation that this entire arsenal was now at her hooves made Scootaloo grin. She couldn't help it, she was overtaken with emotion. Now her transition from the unprepared almost-hero was complete. Sure, she still had skills to learn. Sure, she still wasn't as strong as she would eventually be. But at least now she knew what she was. She was a warrior for good, and that was what she would be until her dying day.

She felt it before she saw it. A warmth that seared brightly on her flank for a moment before cooling. After all these years, it had finally come to her. Years of waiting and trying to be what she could not had led her here. Pulling off the costume, Scootaloo inspected herself. As she had guessed, a cutie-mark now adorned her flank. A bold image of a winged sword was now emblazoned on her skin. Still smiling, she trotted over to the computer, opened the living quaters and retired to sleep for a few hours in the cool, clean bedroom before her working hours.

THE LAIR, MIDNIGHT

The bodysuit was slipped on, the boots slid into, the cape attached and the hat pulled down over Scootaloo's head. Standing in front of a set of polished metal tables in the armoury, her full power as the famous hero could now be excersised. A utility belt lay there, filled with smoke bombs, poision antidotes, a small medical kit, a coiled length of metal cable to tie up criminals and even a tracer tag that could be fired from any of the weapons in the arsenal, sticking to the target and tracing their movements on the Lair's computer. Scootaloo coiled the belt around her waist, clipping it on, and moved to the next piece of equipment. A hoof-mounted multipurpose cannon was quickly installed on one of her forehoof boots, able to fire electric stun darts, a grappling claw (which was attached to a motorised spool on the utility belt by a strong metal cable) and any other number of projectile weapons and gadgets stored in her inventory. The final piece of equipment that Scootaloo picked up and strapped to her back, under her cape, was a small back-mounted flying device. She guessed that this was comissioned in case an Earth Pony or Unicorn were to take up the mantle of the hero and, as such, would need an easy method of travel alike to a Pegasus' wings. Obviously the last Mare-Do-Well hadn't needed it, being a Pegasus herself. But Scootaloo found that this device could help her fly much higher and faster than she could otherwise, and so she decided to take it, with the intention of using it to boost her efficiency far beyond what she herself could naturally achieve. Re-entering the main cave and exiting through the waterfall, Mare-Do-Well activated the flying device.

A large set of curved wings, comprised of purple fabric stretched over metal frames, folded out gracefully from the device under the cape. The high-powered flying engine fired up slowly, a bright blue glow emitting from the grille on the underside of the backpack section. The specially-designed jet managed to stay quiet while lifting the hero off the ground, and she hovered gently upward before speeding off over the rooftops of Ponyville.

Seeing that all was well in her hometown, Mare-Do-Well decided to soar upward, speeding across the sky toward the royal city of Canterlot. Thundering past a shocked-looking Princess Luna on the tower of Canterlot Castle, Mare-Do-Well came to a halt. She hovered gracefully down toward the floor before dropping down with a thud, the mechanical wings folding away as the jetpack cut out with a clunk, the humming engine ceasing its noise. The sound of a commotion down the nearest alleyway caught her attention, and she dashed quietly into the dim passage, padded boots making a minimum of noise.

"Please.." Came the strangled cry of the skinny, weak colt as he was lifted magically into the air by the brutish Unicorn stallion mercilessly attacking him.

"Look.. You don't pay the toll to get through this alley, you don't make it outta here alive." The stallion grunted, a tone of clear malice and sadism in his voice. Just as the suffocating colt realised this could be his end, the magical grip on his neck was released. An electically-charged stun dart smacked into the attacker, shocking him and causing him to collapse for a moment before collecting himself. The cowering colt hid in the darkness and observed as the dark, wraith-like caped figure of Mare-Do-Well dropped down from the nearest lamppost, the cape enshrouding the stallion and pulling him back up into the dark above the post. After a moment, the tightly bound attacker swung down, tied up and hanging from the lamppost by a length of thick metal cable. The sight of the cocoon-looking bound criminal made the colt laugh and emerge from the shadows. Mare-Do-Well stood crouched atop the post, giving a silent nod to the colt before unfolding her mechanical wings and hovering upward into the sky before flying off speedily.

Chapter Three: Broken Strings

CARLSMARE AVENUE, FILLYDELPHIA

EARLY EVENING, THREE WEEKS LATER

The dark shape of Mare-Do-Well thundered down from the sky, mechanical wings folding away as she dive-bombed into a masked, scrawny-looking mare who was crouched over a corpse laying in the gutter of the empty street, a knife glittering in her muzzle. The mare fell back, dazed and incapacitated, as the hero stepped forward to examine the cadaver.

"What in the name of Celestia.." Mare-Do-Well muttered to herself breathlessly, inspecting the body. It was a mess. At first sight, she noticed the scarring along the stallion's abdomen rather than the knife wound on the throat. An intricate portion of classical music notation had been carved with prescision into the skin, contrasting with the rough slice that had slit open the stallion's throat. Pulling out a miniature camera module and fitting it onto her hoof-cannon's mounting, she took detailed evidence photographs of the corpse for study later. After closing the eyes over with a hoof, she turned to confront the killer.

Nothing. The killer had vanished, leaving not a trace. Mare-Do-Well sighed.

"And this is why I should tie 'em up.." She mumbled, using the hoof-mounted cannon to fire a distress flare straight up into the dim sky before unfolding her wings and taking flight once more, as police sirens started up in the distance.

THE LAIR

ONE HOUR LATER

Plugging the camera into the Lair's computer, Mare-Do-Well uploaded the images for processing. She began to specify courses of action for the evidence.

"Computer, cross-reference the notation carved into the body with all known music records in Equestria, I want the origin of the composition and any connections it might reveal. Also, check for any other crimes recently with the same examples of corpse mutilation." After a few minutes of quiet contemplation in the high-backed leather seat, the results were ready. 'The music notation on the victim was an excerpt from a piece identified as Piano Composition IV in D Minor, from the collected works of the musician, Octavia. Octavia has been missing for a year and two months as of today, cause unknown. There have been six murders with the same body mutilations over the past month, all in the boundaries of the Fillydelphia region' The computer monitor displayed, giving a quiet buzz.

"It sounds like Octavia has something to do with all this.. And I'm getting to the bottom of this mess. Computer, I want a full printed report on Octavia. Home address, personal biographical details, psychological history." The computer gave a few short bleeps before beginning its difficult task.

Scootaloo pulled the hat off and slid the facemask back over her head, letting her mane flow freely as she sat in the living quaters. She had moved her belongings into the Lair, telling Applejack that the CMC clubhouse would no longer be needed as she had purchased a townhouse in Manehattan. She sat down on the leather sofa, leaning over to the end table and activating the coffee machine. The sight of a gruesome murder, although anticipated, had still shocked and disgusted her. The machine poured out a cup of hot coffee. Taking a sip, Scootaloo sighed shakily. She sat back and stared at the ceiling, then down to the room again. Her eyes fell on a framed photograph. It showed her and Rainbow Dash, with the rainbow-maned mare's hoof held around the filly's shoulders. Both were smiling joyously. Scootaloo felt her eyes prickle with tears as she reminisced on days gone by. She had once been so innocent, and a child at heart. True, she was still full of youthful vigour, but.. The life she led was taking its toll. Her tear-filled eyes wandered to the blue pegasus. Rainbow Dash had always inspired her, from her filly years up to her current life as a young mare.

"Sometimes I just do it for you, Rainbow Dash. I may be a hero to many, but.. You're my hero." She spoke softly, blinking away the tears and taking another drink of the hot coffee to keep herself going. After collecting the evidence on Octavia and reading over it at length, Scootaloo filed it in a cabinet within one of the storage rooms before leaving the Lair again through the waterfall, her suit now closed over and her hat back on.

The night air was cold and clear against her body as she soared over Ponyville, diving down and swooping to a halt to land right outside a quaint house on Mane Street. The plaque above the door read, 'Octavia, Composer and Musician' in a flowing script. Mare-Do-Well lifted her hoof to the door. A small device extended from her hoof cannon, sliding into the door's lock and picking it with ruthless efficiency. The door clicked open, and she slipped inside. The house was a mess. Belongings littered the floor, mainly music sheets. Leaning down, the hero inspected the closest sheet. It was speckled with dry tears. She replaced the sheet after studying it and moved through to the next room. The walls were covered in musical compositions, scratched into the wallpaper violently. Along with these, words were cut into spaces around the notations. Words like 'VIRTUOSO', 'VISIONARY' and 'SUPERIOR'. Scanning her eyes around the destroyed living room, the sight of a huge poster crumpled in the corner caught her eye. The poster read, 'Regular shows: Classical concerts by the lovely Octavia'. The title of the hosting venue was 'The Paradise Estate, Manehattan'. Mare-Do-Well picked up the cumpled poster and folded it away into a carrying pouch on her utility belt, standing up and looking around before starting toward the door.

A quiet crackle of gunfire in the distance was followed by an almighty splintering boom as the exterior wall opposite Mare-Do-Well was blown open, a hole being violently punched through the wooden surface and through the wallpaper. She dropped to the floor on hearing the initial gunshot, the bullet missing her by mere millimetres on its rapid course.

"Merciful Celestia.." She whispered, rolling across the messy floor and ducking out of the room. The ammunition had managed to shatter not only through the exterior wall, but also blast through the inner wall of the living room, the bullet finally lodging into the interior wall of the house's hallway near the front door. "A bullet that made it through two walls at long range must have come from a gun with an incredible amount of power.." She muttered. "Obviously, someone really wants me dead." After a few minutes of silent waiting with no reprise from the assassin, Mare-Do-Well pulled the bullet from the wall with a hoof. The large, heavy piece of metal bore the tiny inscription, 'THE PROFESSIONAL' in a bold imprinted font. Slotting a laser emitter into the hole in the wall with careful precision, the red beam showed the linear trajectory of the bullet. Dashing out of the door and kicking off into the air, she followed the red path of the assassin's shot, cutting through the dark from the shattered exterior wall all the way up toward the roof of the Ponyville town hall. Somehow, the shooter had managed to fire from the hall's roof, then escape extremely quickly, leaving only the ammunition casing on the roof. Mare-Do-Well picked up the case, tucking that away as well before taking off into the sky and heading back to the Lair as the blazing sun rose up on the horizon.

THE TURNTABLE CLUB, MANEHATTAN

SUNRISE

Vinyl Scratch sat backstage in her cramped office, reclining on an old chair in the dim room. Spare equipment was stacked about the room, and dust was beginning to collect on some of the older technology. Vinyl was often known to be a veritable powerhouse of energy duing her raves at the club, keeping crowds of hundreds going with ease. However, at present, the electric-blue maned DJ was uncharacteristically quiet. She stared silently into a photograph of Octavia, her face unbearably sad. A tear rolled down her cheek.

"I miss you so much.." She whispered, pressing a hoof to the photograph. "Why did you leave? Where did you go?" She continued to sob, pulling the photograph close to her heart.

The door to the office opened slowly. A lone figure entered, her mane unkempt, her purple eyes rimmed with dark signs of stress and sleeplessness. She straightened her shabby bowtie and scratched at her mane. Vinyl's eyes widened and she stood, stepping forward.

"'Tavia? Is that you?" She spoke out, her voice cracking a little after her crying.

"It's Octavia.. My name is Octavia. They always say it wrong.." The broken-looking mare replied, her voice empty and a little agitated.

"I've missed you so much!" Vinyl said, pulling Octavia into an embrace and kissing her. Octavia did not react for a moment. Then her eyes widened sharply, twitching. She pushed Vinyl off, snarling. Vinyl simply stared at her love, uncomprehending. "Octavia, why.."

"Where were you?!" Octavia roared. Vinyl cringed. "Where were you when I made that mistake at the last concert? Where were you when I.. I.. "

"What happened to you?" Vinyl asked the distraught musician.

"My last concert.. I made one mistake. ONE MISTAKE!" Octavia screamed, picking up a keyboard and tossing it across the room. It shattered as it hit the wall. "I played my best, and I made one mistake.." She grabbed Vinyl close, staring at her with pained, maddened eyes. "They were booing me. Jeering. Laughing! And then I was on my way home.. The night had been the worst failure of my career.." Vinyl could only watch as her broken beloved pulled away, breathing hard. "I was mugged. Attacked by a gang of low-life scum. They demanded my money, my hard-earned money.. They took me to the floor and beat me over and over, I.." Her voice became low and feral, her words septic. "They took it all. Money, posessions, everything. I lay broken on the floor of an alley, shattered bones and shattered mind.." Her voice softened. "And the only thing I could think of.. Was my music. A piano's melody. Soft strings singing to me.." A tear ran down her grey face. Her eyes drew even wider. "And now.. I'll prove my worth. I'll make sure that every single pile of filth who mocked me at that concert dies. Every member of that gang will be split apart like I was. I'll be remembered as an artist throughout the ages. A visionary." Vinyl Scratch began to weep openly as Octavia stepped toward her. The musician grabbed her former lover by the hoof and pulled her roughly toward the door, and out of the empty club, into the waiting arms of a group of her own mercenaries. The masked ponies bundled Vinyl into a van as Octavia looked on. "One step more toward the crescendo.." She whispered coldly, making her way around to the driver's side and entering before pulling the van out of the street and driving off down the labyrinthine avenues as the sun continued upwards overhead.

Chapter Four: Fire and Steel

Featherweight had never been a popular colt. Aside from his few blessings such as his short time as the head of the production team for the Foalfree Press, his life had never been the best example of a care-filled existance. His anorexic appearance and problems with being underweight had led him down the path of abuse at the hooves of his peers.

It has often been the case that somepony who is pushed beyond a certain boundary acts irrationally. Personalities change. Minds can break. Emotions can battle eachother and tear a pony apart. Unfortunately, Featherweight fell victim to his raging emotions after his abusive young life. One sunny day in Ponyville, the infamously quiet and meek Featherweight managed to break multiple bones in a vicious retaliation against one unlucky bully. The aggressive young colt had only managed to call out one insult before the pent-up rage and warped mentality of the abused victim had snapped something in his mind. Featherweight had dashed at the colt, giving him a violent headbutt and knocking him into a dazed heap on the floor. After a number of crippling stomps to the skull, the once-innocent and gentle Featherweight was finally calmed down. After this event, the broken-minded colt was never the same. After this event, Featherweight grew to become a stallion who would be known thereafter as a shrewd business dealer, a corrupt character and a respected mob boss in the Manehattan criminal underworld.

Featherweight became The Baron.

THE PARADISE ESTATE CLUB, MANEHATTAN

EARLY EVENING

"I don't believe this, you can't-" The business-suit clad pony was silenced by the cloud of foul cigar smoke that was blown in his face as the stallion across the table cut him off rudely.

"You knew what you were gettin' into. You deal with me, you get used to a few surprises, eh?" The Baron's voice grunted. His muzzle twisted into a grim smile as he adjusted the sleeve on his overcoat with a hoof. The businesspony across the table fought to speak through his continual coughing fit, slicking back his dark grey mane.

"But.. Mr Baron.. Sir. I'm a less than honest businessman myself, but ain't we gotta stick up for eachother? We all got our own problems.. We-" The Baron snarled, slamming a hoof down on the table. He leaned across, blowing out more smoke.

"Listen 'ere.. I run the show around Manehattan. Your name doesn't mean the dirt on my hooves in this town unless I says so. If I were you, I'd just go along with my demands and-" The door to the Baron's office burst open and a young security guard burst in.

"Sorry to interrupt, sirs.." He bowed to each. "We have a situation, Mr Baron sir. You'll want to see this for yourself."

The imposing figure of the Baron stomped out into the wide-open space of the club area, cigar smoke clouding around him and the group of four guards which surrounded him. Neon blue lighting lit up the dance floor and the scene unfolding upon it. The crumpled bodies of at least six unconscious guard ponies lay scattered around. One more guard tumbled to the floor as the Baron and his entourage looked on. The Baron smirked, his scarred lips twisting upward as the unconscious guard's attacker was revealed. The dark cape, the unmistakable silouhette of the wide-brimmed hat, the cold glow of the electric-blue eyes; Mare-Do-Well had entered the building.

"Impressive moves, lady." The Baron grunted, cackling. Plumes of acrid grey cigar smoke wafted about the club as he laughed. "Ever considered doing work for a high-payin' employer such as m'self?" He raised an eyebrow curiously. Mare-Do-Well stared the Baron down silently for a few moments. "Well?" The Baron snarled.

"My only employer is justice." Her voice rang out flatly. "No one else." She stepped forward, boots clopping on the dance floor loudly with each step. The Baron's entourage tightened into formation around him as the hero approached. "Now.. I have a question for you." She spoke coldly. The Baron put on an expression of mock-surprise.

"Oh? Well, I'd be happy to oblige, miss.." He stepped a hoof forward, then stopped. A treacherous grin split across his battered face again. "Ahhh.. I almost forgot." He puffed out a cloud of smoke, cackling grimly. "I never give out personal information.. For free." Mare-Do-Well remained silent and motionless as the Baron's entourage surrounded her. "So.. Will you be paying in checque, or cash?" Before anypony could react, Mare-Do-Well whipped around, cape slashing into all four guards and smacking them into a daze. She leapt upon one of them, slamming a hoof into his side. He hit the floor, knocked out cold. The remaining three began to back away.

"Looks like your boys aren't all that they're cracked up to be." Mare-Do-Well spoke, a glimmer of mirth in her usually emotionless voice. The Baron simply sighed, a grin on his smoke-clouded face. He gave a nod to somepony behind Mare-Do-Well. She managed to dodge an iron bar which was swung down toward her head, lightning-fast reflexes saving her skull from a crippling blow. The guard behind her swung the iron bar held in his muzzle again, this time at her legs. She deftly hopped over the moving weapon, slamming a hoof into the wielder's skull and knocking him down. Mare-Do-Well caught her breath, picking the iron bar up in her muzzle. She marched toward the now-shocked Baron.

"Wait.. Wait, you stay there! Guards, on me! Oi, don't come any clo-" He stammered. He was cut off as she swung the bar at his knees. A loud crack resounded as he crumpled to the floor, the guards around the room too afraid to intervene. He roared with pain and glowered up at Mare-Do-Well with fiery eyes. She simply stared down at him. "You.. You little.." Mare-Do-Well stepped a boot onto one of the Baron's hooves, pressing down on it slowly. The Baron sneered up at her. "Questions, questions.. Hurry up and bloody ask 'em!" He barked. Mare-Do-Well loosened her grip on his hoof and began.

MANEHATTAN STEEL MILL

ONE HOUR LATER

The dark form of Mare-Do-Well screeched down from the dark air above the huge stone and metalwork structures of the steel mill. Collosal brick chimneys spewed smoke and vats of molten metal cast an eerie orange glow around the entire site. The hero swooped under a metal framework that spanned the gap between two chimneys, dropping down to the dusty floor outside the main mill building. The Baron had revealed during her interrogation that Octavia had mentioned in their last meeting that she specifically wanted the perimiter of the mill secure for a modest price. Of course, Mare-Do-Well had managed to bypass this security detail via her airborne entry method.

The inside of the main steel mill was hellishly hot. Steam and gases drifted on the humid air, the glow of molten metal permeated the dark recesses of the cavernous room, lighting up every crack and crevice. As Mare-Do-Well proceeded inside, the sound of a quiet but echoing whimper caught her attention. Looking up toward the ceiling, she spied a pony in a cage, suspended by a chain over a vat of glowing-hot molten metal. Behind the mask of her suit, Scootaloo lost her composure for a moment. The weeping, yellow-coated, scarlet-maned young mare trapped in the cage was her best friend.

It was Applebloom.

The clattering of machinery around the mill was drowned out by a voice, soft but strong, speaking over some sort of makeshift P.A. system.

"Welcome, hero. I know you're there.. I can see you." Mare-Do-Well noticed a set of CCTV cameras located about the mill. "The event you are about to take part in is the first part of my master plan. The Overture to my main piece." An alarm sounded from somewhere above, and a rusty set of elevator doors to the side of the room slid open.

A troop of three armed ponies stepped out onto the dusty floor, each carrying automatic weapons mounted on combat vest-like their saddles. They loaded up the weapons as Mare-Do-Well observed from the other side of the room. She fired a grappling claw from her hoof-cannon, reeling herself up into the rafters and upper levels of the metallic walkways.

“Okay.. The boss wants Mare-Do-Well dead by morning! Spread out and find her!” One of the thugs bellowed as Mare-Do-Well simply observed from above, staying crouched and perfectly still on an iron girder spanning the width of the mill. The team spread out as the sound of machinery started up. The chain holding Applebloom’s cage up began to slacken and lower the metal container down slowly, toward the glowing surface of the molten metal in the vat below.

“Now, hero.. Let’s see if you can manage to defeat a team of armed henchmen and save the weak, cowardly little foal in the cage before she’s boiled alive in the scalding liquid steel.” Octavia’s voice sounded out again, a harshness of quality to her tone when mocking the terrified Applebloom. Mare-Do-Well took a moment to plan out her strategy before swinging down with the grappling claw and diving into action.

The first gruff-looking armed stallion stood no chance. Gliding silently down through the air, Mare-Do-Well dropped directly down onto his back. Using one hoof to cover his mouth, she slammed the other into his head over and over until he crumpled to the floor, out cold. Slipping the ammunition cartridges out of his guns, she kept hold of them and quietly continued on around the corner of a large metal container. The second and third armed thugs were standing back-to-back, turning around slowly in order to survey the whole room. An idea sparked to life in Mare-Do-Well’s mind. Tossing the ammunition cartridges over the container in order to distract them, she dashed around the outside edge of the steel vat. The two eyed the cartridges on the floor and both moved toward them as Mare-Do-Well continued to sneak around behind them.

“Where did these come from? I mean, we only got a limited supply each.” One mumbled.

“Who even cares? More free ammo for us.. Means we can shoot up that cape-wearing freak twice as bad." The other replied, grinning.

"Yeah, I guess.. Still, I don't trust it.. What if-" The stallion's sentence was never finished as the dark, wraithlike form of Mare-Do-Well leapt up onto her hind hooves behind the two, cape flapping upward and making her seem even more imposing. One thug was taken down with one strong-hooved punch. As the first crumpled to the ground, the second primed his saddle-guns and fired. The automatic weapons blazed, the clattering of gunfire echoing around the steel mill. Bullet holes torn in her cape, one bullet lodged in her right foreleg, Mare-Do-Well leapt into the attacker, shoving him to the ground before throwing her full weight down on top of him.

"What?!" Octavia's voice called out over the speakers. "Nopony can possibly take on an armed guard without weaponary and come out on top!" Mare-Do-Well turned toward the camera hanging on the wall and spoke monotonely.

"Nopony but me." She raised her hoof and fired an electrical dart at the camera, overloading it and causing it to explode. Mare-Do-Well fired a grappling claw at an iron rafter near the ceiling, swinging over to Applebloom's cage and using a few strong punches to crumple the metal cage door. She ripped it off, grabbing a hoof around Applebloom and swinging back to safety. Octavia spoke out again, her tone cold.

"You may have won this small victory, hero. But for every victory comes a defeat.. This is not over." The elegant voice echoed around the steel mill for a final time before cutting out abruptly.

Chapter Five: Pain

EXTERIOR YARD, MANEHATTAN STEEL MILL

A FEW MOMENTS LATER

Hobbling out of the main doors of the steel mill with Applebloom, Mare-Do-Well spread her mechanical wings out, readying them and firing up the engines before a flight.

"Can you fly? Your leg.." Applebloom asked hurriedly, her eyes darting around the dimly-lit mill yard. Mare-Do-Well nodded, grunting a little in pain as she stepped back to take a run-up before kicking off into the air. She turned to Applebloom.

"Get onto my back. Don't let go, no matter what happe-" There was a thunderous burst of gunfire, and a shining bullet sailed down from somewhere nearby. It smashed into Mare-Do-Well's already wounded leg, the bone within shattering audibly. She dropped down to the ground, wincing in pain. "Applebloom.." She managed to growl. "Find somewhere to hide, now!" Applebloom, giving Mare-Do-Well a pained look, dodged off behind a row of industrial-sized metal containers.

"Dead on target." A cold, emotionless voice rang out. A second later, a dark figure hopped down from atop a maintenance shed, stepping into the glowing, hazy light of the mill. The grey-coated, dark-eyed figure of the Professional was revealed to Mare-Do-Well at last, the long metallic shape of a heavy-duty sniper rifle fitted to a saddle swung over her back. Despite her usually stony faced expression, the assassin gave an almost warm smile.

"You're pretty good at holding up under painful conditions, aren't you?" She spoke softly. Juxtaposed with this apparently kind interaction, she slammed a hoof down on the broken leg of Mare-Do-Well. The broken bone made a horrifying crunching sound, mixed with a hoarse gasp of pain from the fallen hero. "Sometimes when I hit a bone right through the centre.." The Professional said, leaning down to speak in Mare-Do-Well's ear monotonely, "The structure of it collapses. It's quite fascinating to see how a bone can implode at its core under one localised application of pressure." She smiled grimly. "Don't worry though. From the sound it just made, I'd say your foreleg's bone structure is still pretty much intact. I must have missed a little. If it makes you feel any better, you might like to know that ,if you survived this meeting, it'd heal." Mare-Do-Well turned her face up to look at her attacker with her glowing blue eyes. The Professional's face was distrubingly expressionless, showing neither concern for her victim, or remorse for her actions.

"Are.. Are you the assassin who shot at me before? Back at-"

"Back at Octavia's house, yes. You proved exceptional at dodging my shot." The Professional smiled. "Well done. You did better than countless others." Mare-Do-Well coughed violently.

"So you're the Professional?" She grunted out, voice cracking. The assassin nodded.

"The Professional. The job done right, for the right price. I'd say I've taken down around a hundred ponies or more in my career." She gave an uncharacteristic, cackling laugh. "And I'm only young compared to some killers. Heck, I've been killing since I was only a filly." Her last few words lost all intonation, sounding dead and empty. Mare-Do-Well saw a definite madness in her attacker's eyes. The dark-rimmed, wide and staring eyes were discordantly lifeless.

"And how are you going to kill me?" Mare-Do-Well spat out coldly.

"I was thinking.." The Professional drew a shining, clean knife from her saddlebag. She held the blade up in a hoof, smiling. "A quick inscision to the jugular vein. Bleed you out.. Sound good to you?" She asked, seemingly with genuine curiosity. Mare-Do-Well shook her head.

"Want to know how I'd like you to kill me?" The Professional nodded gently.

"With great difficulty." Mare-Do-Well spoke monotonely. She quickly raised her hoof up, aiming the hoof-cannon at the Professional. She fired a grappling claw directly at her face, the sharp metallic instrument slamming into her eye. The maniac screeched, falling backward. Mare-Do-Well took the opportunity to load another claw device into the cannon, firing it at the nearest platform; a metal catwalk, suspended over the yard on a tall framework. She landed with a painful thud and began to stagger along the walkway, which passed over a number of open chimneys. Dark smoke belched from the brick funnels, drifting around in the hazy orange light of the steel mill yard. Mare-Do-Well leaned against the metal railing of the catwalk, catching her breath.

"Nice.. Move." The voice of the Professional called out coldly, as she emerged from the smoky air. Her eye was jammed half-shut, the metal spike protruding from the socket, blood trickling down her face. "But we both know it won't save you. I can kill you.. With one eye." She smirked. The sniper rifle on her saddle clicked, the clip reloading automatically with a custom-built mechanism. Mare-Do-Well made a split-second descision. She leapt at the assassin, slamming her full weight into her, despite the pain in her foreleg. The catwalk railing behind the Professional crumpled and snapped away, and the cold,clinical assassin fell away with it. She fell quietly. There was no screaming in terror as she plummeted down into a smoking chimney, into the fiery depths of a furnace, or a melting-pot, or some other boiling hot death. Mare-Do-Well watched, realising that it was too late to save the falling killer. Applebloom emerged from the smoke on the catwalk, eyes wide. She had not seen the last of the fight, and was visibly confused.

"Mare-Do-Well? Where's-" Mare-Do-Well clambered to her hooves.

"Gone. Now.. As I said, hold on tight." Applebloom climbed onto Mare-Do-Well's back, and the caped hero swooped off into the night to return the young mare to Ponyville.

THE LAIR

THREE HOURS LATER

Scootaloo sat up on the infirmary bed, her shattered and bloodied leg now disinfected and fitted into a thin, tight-fitting metallic frame which still allowed her some movement, however restricted. With one last glance back at the extracted bullet laying in the bedside tin, the tray of high-tech instruments and the blood stained bed, she slowly trotted back along a corridor and out into the cavernous control room of the Lair once again.

"Computer.. I want every piece of evidence I've collected input into the database. Index it all, search for matches between articles of data, everything. I need to know Octavia's next move." The computer whirred quietly for a few moments before showing the word 'AFFERMATIVE' on screen and beginning the cross-referencing of all available evidence. Scootaloo trotted slowly back to the living quaters and, giving a silent nod to her beloved photograph of her and Rainbow Dash, carefully climbed into bed to rest up until morning.

PONYVILLE

MORNING, THE NEXT DAY

The bruised and battered figure of Scootaloo moved among the crowds of scattered citizens in the storm. Others rushed around, but she showed little reaction to the cold air and the pouring rain, moving onward toward Twilight's house. Pushing open the door, she stepped inside. Twilight was studying a huge, leather-bound journal on a desk. She smiled.

"Hello, Scootaloo! How are you doing?.. Oh my, what happened to your leg?!"

"Oh, that? Um.. Flying injury. Landed too fast on one leg, broke the bone. It hurt, but.. I'm fine." Twilight gave a concerned nod and continued onward.

"So.. Were you here for something specific, or were you just visiting?" She smiled.

"I'm here for another favour." Scootaloo spoke softly. Twilight nodded. "Do you have any recent info on Octavia.. That musician? I heard she went missing, and I was curious." Twilight pressed a hoof to her chin, then trotted over to a bookshelf stuffed with books and papers, shuffling through them Scootaloo followed, watching.

"How's that biography on Mare-Do-Well coming along?" Twilight asked, pulling a few scrolls of scribbled notes off the shelves, piling them into a box nearby.

"It's, uh.. Going well." Scootaloo grinned awkwardly, kicking at the floor with a hoof.

"Here." Twilight said, floating a recently-produced estate agents' record book over and flipping it open. "Apparently Octavia has ownership of three estates.. Her home here in Ponyville, and two in Manehattan, both apartments.. Here, take it if you'd like." Scootaloo gratefully took the book, thanking Twilight before leaving hastily to avoid any awkward questions, retreating to the Lair.

NINE HOURS LATER, EARLY EVENING

Mare-Do-Well made her way back through the darkening streets on patrol, the storm worsening above. Ponyville's residents had all retreated inside their warm houses, and so the rain-battered streets were dim and empty. As she turned a corner, she was met with the sight of a group of shady-looking ponies in armoured overcoats, military berets and scarves hiding their muzzles. The leader of the group, a gruff-looking unicorn, stepped forward.

"Mare-Do-Well." He spoke in a husky voice. Mare-Do-Well took up a defensive stance, but remained calm and on-guard. She nodded silently. "I have a message for you." He stepped forward and floated a folded note out to Mare-Do-Well silently. She took it in her hoof, watching the armed guard retreat down an alley while unfurling it. She decided she would let them go.. There would be time enough to get them later. The hero now looked down at the letter which she had been given, written in a beautiful, flowing script.

'Mare-Do-Well, my dear rival,

You've done exceptionally well so far, and the Overture was a success thanks to your participation in my plans. For this, I thank you. But now is the time to give up, to return to obscurity and folklore. My final piece is coming to its end. However, if you wish to make a difference to my plans, you must act quickly.

Tonight, the Crescendo begins. I have two hostages hidden in Manehattan, both counting on you to rescue them. You cannot rescue both, and so one must die. Which will you save? I will reveal that one hostage is Vinyl Scratch, the famous DJ. The other is Sweetie Belle, a young mare gifted with a talent for singing.. Both hostages are musically inclined, and so they shall make a fitting pair to take part in my plan.

You will have until dawn to rescue the pony of your choice. I wish you luck, for you will most certainly need it. Let the Crescendo begin.'

Chapter Six: Crescendo

MANEHATTAN STREETS,

20 MINUTES LATER

The dark shape of Mare-Do-Well swooped through the night air over Manehattan, the glow of neon and streetlamps reflecting off her bodysuit and extended mechanical wings as she soared. Inside the mask, she brought up a digital map of the city. The apartments which had been under the ownership of Octavia in the estate agents' logbook flared up on the map, marked out specifically. She glided down inbetween the buildings, nearing the first apartment within a few minutes.The hero dive-bombed down through the window of the apartment, folding her wings inward to become a streamlined bullet as she burst through the glass of the nearest window. Inside, the place was a mess. Obviously Octavia had simply kept the apartment for this purpose, as no specific decor besides some graffiti of musical notation and sheet music on the bare walls existed in the place.

In the centre of the room was the shaken, bruised form of Vinyl Scratch. The blue-maned DJ was chained down to a table, an elaborate machine hanging over her from a frame on the ceiling. A spinning record disc buzzed away on a mechanical arm, slowly lowering toward her abdomen. Mare-Do-Well was quick to act, diving forward in an attempt to shatter the dangerous spinning disc with a punch. However, she realised after attempting to do so once that the 'record' was actually a sharp metal disc which had simply been painted over in order to become an ironic tool of execution. Waking from a troubled, drug-induced sleep, Vinyl let out a scream of terror as she realised her predicament. The spinning disc lowered another centimeter. Mare-Do-Well's glowing blue eyes scanned the room, searching for a shut-off switch. After a few minutes of searching, she realised the answer had been there all along. The wires connecting the spinning disc's machine to the power grid for the apartment building had been stuck to the wall, thinned down and painted over. They had been disguised as bars of sheet music upon the wall. She dashed over to the disguised wires, following the wire from the machinery along to the wall. fitting a grappling claw into the hoof-cannon, she used the sharp claw to slash at the wires. With a sparking crackle and a clunk, the power was cut off from the disc machine. The power cut released the chains binding Vinyl to the table, freeing the frightened mare. Mare-Do-Well bucked the apartment door open.

"Get out of here, you'll be safe now." She spoke tonelessly, dashing out of the door ahead of Vinyl. The DJ gave a hushed 'thank you' as she followed out slowly.

Exiting the apartment and sprinting out onto the city street, Mare-Do-Well unfolded her wings again. Firing up the propulsion system, she kicked off into the air. Darting across the sky, she made her way toward the other apartment building on her digital map. As she flew, however, a sound caught her attention. The loud clatter of gunfire came all too late for her to alter course, and she felt the searing-hot pinpricks of pain as 3 bullets punched into her side, another puncturing a hole in one of her mechanical wings. Spiralling down to the ground, Mare-Do-Well attempted to brace for the impact, wrapping her cloak around her body and pulling her hooves close. She smashed into the hard pavement of a backstreet, a few audible cracks echoing around along with the harsh thud. The tendrils of dark unconsciousness grasped at her vision, blotting it out to blackness.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead!" A raspy voice called out, cackling darkly. Mare-Do-Well felt herself being lifted to her feet limply, pain shooting across her body as broken bones and wounded flesh were moved unwillingly. She blearily opened her dim eyes, and her vision faded into a hazy focus. A shadowy figure stood before her in the alley, standing just out of sight in the darkness. Around her stood henchmen in combat vests and blaclavas of some kind. Four of them clutched long range single-action service rifles, and Mare-Do-Well assumed they had been her attackers. "So.. How's your 'ead doing, miss? A little painful, I'd guess." The voice spoke, malice clear in its intonation. The darkness was lit for a moment by a bright orange glare, and the smell of smoke began to drift across the air. "Well, I suppose this little meetin' is only fair.." It spoke, the pony behind the voice stepping forward out of the cloud of putrid cigar smoke, like a demon emerging from the smoky depths of some hellish underworld. "I always do get the last laugh when it comes to my enemies.. And their fates." The grim, malicious figure of the Baron emerged from the smoky dark, smirking. His overcoat flapped in the mild wind as he stepped closer, pulling the hero's chin upward forcefully with a hoof to lock eyes with her. "You didn't think I'd let you go after humiliatin' me like that, did you? Eh?" He snarled viciously, then backed away. "Boys.. Positions." He grinned as he spoke, stepping back further. Four of the rifle-ponies stepped up in a row to form a firing squad as the two henchmen holding Mare-Do-Well up pinned her to the wall behind her with a hoof each, her arms held up by her sides. She stood on her painful hind hooves, staring her executioners in the face.

"On my mark, boys! Ready arms!" The Baron bellowed. The firing squad loaded up their guns, checking them and readying them to fire. "Take aim!" The Baron called again. The firing squad pulled up their weapons into position, crouching and aiming the service rifles at the hero's abdomen. Mare-Do-Well silently planned as the Baron blew out another cloud of smoke and gave the final order. "Goodbye, miss. FIRE!" His voice roared out. The firing squad pulled their triggers, the weapons thundering into life. As four bullets sailed through the air toward Mare-Do-Well, she yanked both of her captors' hooves toward each other, ignoring the painful strain on her own limbs. The two henchmen who had been holding her against the wall were pulled toward eachother in front of her - and into the paths of the bullets. Both henchmen were hit with two bullets each, crumpling to the floor. The Baron's eyes widened with fear as the hero, suit flecked with splatters of blood rose to her feet, wounded but triumphant. "How.." He muttered, shock in his voice. The firing squad began trying to hastily reload, in a full-blown panic by now. In a flash of motion, Mare-Do-Well loaded a smoke bomb into her hoof-cannon and fired it down into the middle of the group of henchmen. "WHERE ARE YOU?!" The Baron yelled, his voice echiong around the smoke-obscured backstreet. The sounds of heavy thumps, loud cracks and yells of pain echoed around, accompanying his shouting. The smoke cleared. Mare-Do-Well stood her ground in the middle of the backstreet, the unconscious bodies of the remaining henchmen and firing squad members littered about her on the floor. The Baron felt a cold wave of dread sink over him as the blood-stained, grim hero stepped closer. He crumpled to the ground, raising his hooves above his head protectively. "Please.. Please don't hurt me.." He whimpered, shuddering violently. "Please.." The hero looked down on him with harsh, glowing blue eyes. She slammed a hoof to his collar, raising him up against the wall. His overcoat slipped off, his anorexic frame revealed in the dim light of the streetlamps all around. His cigar dropped from his quivering lip as she began wrapping a metallic cable around him tightly, binding him. She stepped back when he was properly tied up.

"I'll deal with you another time." Mare-Do-Well uttered coldly, firing a distress flare up into the air from her hoof-cannon to alert the police. She rushed into an alley nearby, making sure that there were no windows around, then caught her breath, crumpling to the ground. Her body ached with pain, her mind was numb with exhaustion, and now.. She was a murderer. The two henchmen she had thrown in front of her to save her life had both sustained two gunshot wounds each, and so it was extremely unlikely that both had survived the ordeal. Behind the mask, Scootaloo wanted to leave this whole mess behind. She wanted to go home and relax, clean the blood off of her suit, destroy the Lair and any connections with this occupation, and just live a normal life. Staring up at the sky, she found her spirit returning. Her life as a Pegasus pony had always revolved around her and Rainbow Dash. Her mentor, her friend, and the closest thing to a sister she had ever had the honour of looking up to. Rainbow Dash didn't quit. Rainbow Dash had been a hero to the end, and had died in the line of duty. Scootaloo was alive today because of her hero's sacrifice - and she'd be damned if she didn't save Sweetie Belle as Rainbow Dash had saved her.. Even if it meant giving her life in the process. Pulling herself to her feet, determined and redoubled in strength despite the pain coursing through her, she fitted a grappling claw into the hoof-cannon. Mare-Do-Well reeled herself up onto the rooftops above to make her way toward the other targeted apartment once again.

10 MINUTES LATER

Limping, Mare-Do-Well finally crossed from the low roof of one building, swinging with the grappling claw over to the wall of the marked apartment building and beginning the perilous climb up the vertical surface, the grappling claw reeling her upward slowly. After a few slip-ups, she finally made it up to the window of the designated apartment, punching the window inward with a hoof and climbing inside shakily. The interior of this apartment was similar to the last; bare walls, dusty surfaces and rotting furniture. In the centre of the apartment was a cage-like object holding Sweetie Belle in a standing position on her hind hooves. The cage was locked tightly around her, and another disturbing piece of machinery stood in front of her. A rusty iron frame of some sort was clamped over her neck, a sharp metal spike inserted through a hole in the frame. When the timer on the mechanism wound down to zero, the metal spike would be rammed into the young mare's throat, causing fatal damage to her windpipe. The hero checked the timer. Thirty-four seconds and counting. Sweetie Belle's panicked, strangled whines echoed around the apartment as the timer ticked down, and Mare-Do-Well checked all sides of the machine for a way to stop it. She panicked as the timer ticked down, beeping softly with each wasted second.. Twenty-one.. Twenty.. Nineteen.. Eighteen..

Mare-Do-Well began slamming her hooves into the device with all her strength. The metal dented a little, the frame bending inward slightly. Minimal damage.

Fifteen.. Fourteen.. Thirteen.. Twelve..

There was no emergency release switch.

Ten.. Nine.. Eight..

No exposed wiring or weak spot in the machinery.

Five.. Four..Three..

Nothing.

Two.. One.

The beeping halted, and Mare-Do-Well froze up in horrified silence as a rending creak started up in the machinery, a green light blinking into life on its side. Sweetie Belle let out a strangled, throaty scream.

Nothing happened.

The machine didn't activate, the spike wasn't rammed into the young mare's windpipe, and her throat wasn't reduced to a bloody pulp through which beautiful singing would never flow again. The young mare passed out as the cage holding her unlocked and snapped open, her body slumping to the ground. Dazed and confused, Mare-Do-Well stared all around the room. A few moments later, the exterior wall of the apartment exploded inward, shards of glass and smashed-up pieces of concrete showering the room. She wrapped her cape around herself, shielding herself from the blast and debris. As the smoke cleared, the building opposite came into view. An open bay window, an armoured gang member carrying a rocket launcher of some kind, and the orchestrator of the piece herself, Octavia. She stared on, a discordant smile on her face, eyes wide.

"So we finally meet, hero.. How has it been for you?.. Running these little mazes I gave you?" She called from across the gap. Her words echoed around the blocks of apartments, drifting on the air as the sounds of police sirens grew louder.

"Why did you kidnap these hostages in order to further your operation? Why did you set this entire operation up?!" Mare-Do-Well coldly requested, yelling to Octavia.

"Revenge. Revenge against the world, you know? The ones who did me wrong.. The ones who scorned me for my failures." She spoke out unevenly, her voice shaky. "Ijust wanted.. To hurt them. To make them feel what I felt." She shook her head vigorously then, as if shaking out all her memories of her past. "And I'll start the killing.. With you." She said, nodding to the gang member. The masked pony raised the rocket launcher on his shoulder, crouching to take aim.

Mare-Do-Well was quick to act, swinging her forehoof up and aiming the hoof-cannon. She fired the grappling claw without its cable, directly at the rocket launcher's barrel. The metal claw sailed through the air, finding its mark and slamming into the weapon's barrel. The rocket ignited, exploding into an all-consuming fireball. The inferno flared up around Octavia and her gang member, the flames and shards of metal flung out in all directions. As the opposite apartment building was consumed by the volatile fireball, the structure began to falter. The interior walls crumbled and smashed, and the building leaned over, crashing into the opposite building. The last thing which Mare-Do-Well saw was the opposite building falling toward her, the crumbling structure falling apart as it came.

"Goodbye, Sweetie Belle." She breathed, as the room around her collapsed down on to her head, and then all the world went black.