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// Chapter 3: Competition (Scarlet) 
// Story: Fair Flight 
// by Baryski 
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Fifteen minutes until contact. Scarlet had been watching the square carefully for nearly one hour. As the clock ticked by, the techie checked her final preparations. Her rooftop was ready for a blazing show, which would end with the death of almost a score Creed, including the master of the Hooftail order. Everything was set: The neurotoxin dart rifle, specifically engineered for slow killing of the dreaded master. He had to suffer, for all he had done. It was also necessary. Without Hooftail support, Shadowbrands had no control over the city by themselves.

The next stage was a series of controlled explosions, meant to separate groups of guards, preparing them for the next phase. The more who died, the better it was for her plan. And this is where her self-engineered blade came into play. She had managed to adapt three weapon modules to the bracer, except for the dagger itself. Her choice for the day was the smart rocket launcher, a strapped pistol with a 15 bullet cartridge and a smokescreen creator.

The last was indispensable for her. She could not overpower a Creed by sheer force, but wearing a gas mask in a smokescreen made all the difference in the world. By the time she’d have to use them, though, less than a pack would be left.

Ten minutes to contact. The guards started positioning as Scarlet had expected. Four on the right: will die in the second detonation. Five below her rooftop, after detonation 1 they will group near the toxin canisters. Death occurs in less than 30 seconds since first inhalation. The personal escort, yet to come: Small groups to be taken out by her thermal rockets. The three specialists and their guards: Bullets to the head. None would be in the mood to dodge bullets with all the panic enlisted. She had doubts regarding this plan, but her auxiliary detonation packs would be able to cope with crowd control.

She looked upon the scene. If she was right, such a move would clear all innocents from the streets, leaving her playground set for the slaughter to come. She could only smile in anticipation, knowing her job would be almost done after such a coup.

Five minutes to contact. The streets had been cleared. Only a parade of cloaked ponies marched the street. Man, they do like to show off their dominion around here. All the more, this is their downfall. As the assassins of old used to say: “Requiescat in pace”… bitch.

The main nucleus of the escort was approaching, she could see from afar. In less than two minutes, her arrow would reach its destination, she hoped, flawlessly. Upon approach, there were a few signs of activity near the escort. From afar, it seemed like a school filly was lost between the guards. The cloaked ponies pushed her around from one another, making their intentions clear. It was only a minute later, when one of them collapsed, that she realized: The poor filly was none other than the one who broke into her house a couple of days ago.

As the filly dropped her cover, moving in towards the escort, now in full alert, Scarlet took her time to write a small note, wrapping it around her deadly payload. “Kill count?” Not taking more, she loaded the dart inside the rifle, and aimed for the one pony in the middle of the escort, dressed in a black cape.

Contact. Everything was going according to plan. As the dart reached its target, the circle tensed around what was for two more minutes their master. Listening to the beat of the panic, Scarlet relished in a well executed plan and the music of desperate screams. The rogue assassin hurried for the convulsing black cloak, slashing his throat in a single blow. However, it was too late for her to claim the kill, as the ponies closer to the corpse were now looking towards her, raising a hoof “SNIP…” The voice was muffled with a gurgle as blood poured from his throat.

Stage one. The three main explosions were set off on the rooftops, making rocks and rubble fall on the unsuspecting guards. As expected, the first one only squashed one of the five below, who hurried towards her toxin emitters. The second was bigger, burying five with the debris. The third was more for show rather than effect, blocking the way ahead and still killing two of them

In the meantime, the brown mare was busy herself. She has killed another four more of the inner circle and was moving for more of them. This will make my job a whole lot easier. Stage two. Out of fear and panic, the assassin escort grouped in tight spaces, trying to make a shoot at either Scarlet or their traitor. Loading the rockets on her wrist, Scarlet fired the four smart payloads, one at a time. Each was targeted to one of the group, with the possibility of killing more. Three… Two… Three… Oh, come on, just one? Disappointing, if you ask me… That makes a total of 19. There’s more of them than I expected.

Looking back at her rival, she had done a pretty good job as well. At least a dozen were lying on the ground and a few more were shaking, following to end up like the others. She was not far behind. Switching to the gun module, Scarlet started picking off the remaining survivors. Her marksmanship was not to be questioned, killing ten out of the fifteen bullets she fired. Landing near two wounded guards, she took the liberty of testing the bracer blade. It dug into the neck, severing the head clean from the rest of their bodies. And that’s 31.

The job was almost done. Scarlet looked around at the carnage she caused along with the renegade assassin. At least fifty were lying dead, to her satisfaction. The only thing to move now was the deathly storm of swords created by the brown mare and the last remaining cloaked pony. A specialist, I presume. Scarlet decided to sit by and watch. She believed that her former interrogator had the skills necessary to terminate the last one standing. Sitting herself upon a rooftop, she watched as the dance between the two continued, their blades shifting in perfect unison with each other, eyes locking into each other. Until… One of them slipped.

To her surprise, it was the mare that made an almost deadly mistake. From a distance, Scarlet could see the brown pegasus jump away, trying to dodge an onslaught of knives thrown by the cloaked killer. A few of the daggers scraped her, leaving a few cuts along her body. Right after the steeled projectiles finished, the pony limped to the ground. Looking at the sleek posture of the mare, she realized instantly what had happened: Poison darts.

Let’s see if she can take any more. Writing another note quickly, the orange pegasus loaded another dart in her rifle firing it directly in front of her competitor. “31 kills, southern rooftop.” There was literally no time to waste. The techie didn’t have any hand to hand proficiency, but her gadgets would give her the upper hand. Taking out a pair of heat goggles, she mounted them lightly on her forehead. Two smoke bombs. This should be enough. As the smoke lacked much of its choking potency, it compensated in the dense gray color it emanated. Her opponent would be blind.

As the brown mare landed, Scarlet could taste her own victory. They both knew who had won their small competition. Yet, she was prepared to taunt faith until the end with it, even if it meant breaking out into a fight. Actually, the techie expected that, longed for that. I told her I’d make her pay for Bubbles. “You did take your time, there. You couldn't have scored more than... say, half. There were 50 in the escort, and you know my count.”

The short maned pegasus landed in front of her, impetuous and arrogant as always. Trying to undermine her efforts with every word, as Scarlet expected her to do. “And, you pretty much ruined everything. Besides, count isn't everything. I had a combat specialist. If it wasn't for me, you'd have ended up with your head off.” I what now? I was the one to make this thing work in the first place! Arrogant s… Calm down, Scar. She’s yours. I wonder which one of the three she killed. It might be the master of Arms. No matter. I took out the other two.

“I see that you have a deathwish as well,” That “as well” was a fatal slip, Scarlet realized. The memories kept coming back, now was definitely not the time to start thinking about her memories. She turned to a more calm, condescending tone. “You think you could handle a score assassins, even upstarts?”

The renegade Creed looked away, thinking for a couple of seconds before answering, in her old-fashioned manner. “Does it matter what I think?” It matters that you attacked my couch. She could feel the anger building up in her conversation partner with every word, and Scarlet was not going to give up now. An enemy clouded by rage is bound to make mistakes.

“I see somepony is pretty pissed on their numbers.” The techie snickered. Her own words were spiteful at her address, though, honestly speaking, she would’ve liked to bury the hatchet. Not before I show her who’s in charge of the operation, though.

“I would just have loved to see you up against that. Bet you wouldn't have lasted a minute.” And now she had brought her exactly in the spot she wanted to. The assassin was getting ready for a battle, the tension between the two being almost palpable. Scarlet checked her smoke grenades again. Locked and loaded.

“It doesn't matter. The master of the Hooftail is dead. As for your bet. I can last longer against you,” And we both know whose merits will be recognized for this. I’m the one explosives specialist around. This will give me some rep with Conflux and a bounty on my head by the Creed, more than certain. Sliding her goggles on her eyes, she started up the heat sensors, preparing to launch her trump card “It's on.”

The smoke grenades went flying, spreading a dense gray fume all around the rooftop. They were supposed to last five minutes, enough to impose her authority on the situation. She could see the brown assassin perfectly: The heat sensors were displaying her normally, red over blue, right in front of her. She knew she was trying to find a point of balance, and Scarlet wasn’t going to give her that.

Making the slightest noise and giving away her position, she coiled up as her opponent charged in towards her, with a concentrated dose of anger in her voice. “He was mine to kill! Not yours!” For once, the orange mare could feel their common ground. They both wanted the Hooftails dead, with the same ardent fervor burning from two different reasons. Scarlet dodged, arching her hoof towards the brown mare’s side, hitting her mercilessly. She almost wish she weren’t that harsh.

“We both have our reasons to want him dead. Mine were quicker.”

The mare turned in an agile move, enough to impress even the goggles themselves, making them show static for a couple of seconds. “You really are that arrogant, aren't you?” A hoof hit her wing. It almost felt as soft as a feather, not having the push of normal attacks. Scarlet was curious to this situation, yet she knew the battle had to end fast, before the smoke was gone.

“Sweet Luna you're pissed. That barely even hurt.” This is so amusing, I could go on like this for ages. Spark Dust used to like being nagged… Don’t think of that. That’s not your problem right now.

“You're lucky you're even alive. You should be counting your blessings instead of taunting the pony who already spared your life.” She was going to go for the Good Samaritan attitude all the way, wasn’t she? Well, at least she could seem grateful for that… Later.

“I told you I'd get revenege for the couch,” After all, Bubbles was the main reason she was here, fighting this delicious pegasus. What? Delicious? Where the heck did that come from? Focus on the couch. Couch… Adhesive… Delicio… No. Couch, couch, couch.

The assassin was going into submission. The smoke was dissipating, and it wouldn’t have been long before she was visible again. The brown Creed member was now backing off, hoping to buy some time. “The couch that I didn't damage and even removed the adhesive from?” This needs to end. Now

Scarlet sprung her bracer blade from her ingenious mechanism. It was a bit more bulky, but compensated with the gun mods she would’ve been dead without. “The couch you put adhesive on in the first place,” Lunging towards her target, she managed to knock her over and draw the bracer blade close to her neck. She had finally won.

“Oh well, it's not you can beat me anyway.” The damned mare laughed. I can’t beat you? I just frickin’ did. What does this look like, partial defeat? Yet, she admired the strong point her counterpart made. She was going to fight until the end. Scarlet was determined not to kill her. It was the least she could do after sparing her once and helping her with her assignment.

“One slip and I would.” Her triumphant voice sounded as she pushed the blade closer to her throat. A small mark, so she can remember who she’s messing with. Yet the assassin never feared for her life. In fact, she seemed more confident than ever as the smoke subsided.

“You're forgetting one thing.”

“What is that?” Her hoof slipped, as the brown mare removed it from her neck. The techie, confused, tried to make another push for her neck, but it was too late, as her opponent was leaning clean over her, moving in to what seemed to be…

“Assassins play dirty,” Scarlet knew that for a fact, but she never thought one would go as far as to kiss her on the lips. As the mare’s tongue slipped inside her mouth, Scarlet felt all the memories flood inside her mind. The caravan, the bomb, the night… Her friends. It was more than she could take. As the pegasus finished her job, making Scarlet fall over to the ground, the poor orange mare was left in a vortex of confusion.

“Wh...What the hell was that?”

Her mind was in overdrive, her heat sensors showing the mare as being all warmed up. She was hot, in the literal sense of the word. “I told you, assassins play dirty. Whatever it takes.” No, this is not a game. You can’t do that just to win a stupid battle! Scarlet felt her face flush up with rage, and mostly… pain.

“No. No, no, no. You didn't just do that.” She felt herself reliving the past, as her eyes filled up with tears, while the unsuspecting mare approached. For her, it would’ve been the same if she just took a dagger and slid it in her heart. That would have been by far less painful.

“What? You didn't enjoy it?”

“No. I mean, why? Why did you do that?” The confusion reached maximum, and Scarlet started choking on her words. Her head hurt, and mostly, it seemed as her friend didn’t even know what she’d done. Probably that was what hurt most: the nameless brown mare was more of a friend than she’d ever have again.

“To distract you. Or, was that your first?” The pegasus was now holding her, rather than gripping. Her embrace was weak, yet she was trying to be reassuring. Scarlet tried to break off the hug, her choking now turned into a full wail of sadness.

How… How can she? That… That bastard. She doesn’t care about it. Why would she? She’s just a damned assassin. “No, I'm not talking about this... with an assassin.”

She got the message, apparently. Breaking the so-called hug, the brown mare backed off, leaving Scarlet to her own, still watching from a small distance. “Relax. The big bad Creed isn't going to force you into anything. I told you, though, you didn't stand a chance.”

For Scarlet, this was no longer a game. Her memories were now surfacing, and all she wanted to do was go drown them away in a bottle of her most expensive liqueur. It was good that her goggles were still on, she didn’t want the assassin to see her eyes in that situation. “Oh, come on,”

I never did expect her to have a heart. The words never came out. “Just, forget it.” It was all she said before diving off the building. She needed to be back home, alone with her bubble bath and water couch. Bubbles always knew how to make her feel better.

She never heard the mare’s last words. Whether it was an apology or a snide comment, she didn’t care. All she wanted now was to forget.