Mare-Do-Well quietly padded through the snow around the alley to the side of the Silverhoof Club, looking for an entrance. After finding none, she fitted a grappling claw into the hoof cannon. The old device blasted the claw upward to the roof, but the tool fell short and dropped back down to the ground. The hero sighed, flipping a switch on her belt to reel the claw back into the cannon. The motor whined and gave out quiet squeaks as the mechanical parts moved for the first time in years. The claw slid back into the barrel of the cannon, and Mare-Do-Well stepped further into the alley, cape swirling gently in the wind. A cracked mirror lay, propped up against a large pile of trash by the wall of the club. It had most likely been disposed from a dressing room inside, and now it had been discarded with the rest of the junk. Mare-Do-Well sat on her haunches before the mirror, and stared at her warped reflection. The beraggled, anonymous face of the old hero stared back with unblinking, glowing blue eyes. After a pause, she raised her hooves to her face and grasped the hat. She tugged it off, and slipped the mask off too. The mare that stared back at her was both familiar and unfamiliar. The same orange-gold coat, the same purple mane. The same piercing eyes. But her mane was long and scraggly, falling over her face. She was much larger in size, and the tight suit visibly outlined her adult frame. As Scootaloo looked on at herself, a little blush formed on her cheeks. She had to admit, she looked a lot more attractive than she had as a plucky little kid. Now she was a graceful, strong mare, and she felt pride swell in her breast. Rainbow would have been so proud, she thought. A little icy pain thawed the warm in her heart at the rememberance of her hero's passing.. But those memories were old wounds, and she was healing with age. More resilient to the emotional stabs she had felt so strongly before. She took a deep breath, and let it out, taking up the mask in a hoof. Now was not the time for sentiment. There would be time to reflect soon. She pulled the mask down over her head and pushed the hat onto her head, tugging the brim down over her eyes. Scootaloo disappeared, and Mare-Do-Well resurfaced.
After a hard punch to the hoof-mounted weapon, the hero fired upward again. The grappling claw hit a section of piping on the roof, snapping shut. Tugging on the cable to test the stability, she snapped the switch and reeled herself upward, swinging to a vertical angle so that she could slowly climb up the wall on her hooves. Clambering onto the flat concrete rooftop, she reeled in the grappling claw and pressed herself down onto the surface, keeping low to avoid any watching adversaries on the street below. She glanced quickly across the roof, taking note of an entrance grate to the club's ventilation system. She hurried over to the concrete structure, using brute strength to wrench the grate off its bolted frame with her hooves and laying it gently, quietly to the floor. She slipped inside the metal duct, moving slowly and as quietly as she could, considering the echoing metallic surfaces and the boots covering her hooves. Navigating the unknown system of small, suffocating tunnels was not easy, but she eventually found a grate in the floor of one duct, opening out just above a huge room. Tables were laid out all over, smartly-dressed ponies sat comfortably and sipping at drinks, smoking or talking to one another. A lavish stage took up one wall of the room, lights shining from somewhere unseen and illuminating the dark red silk curtains, the sheen of the wooden stage, the dark colouration of the stage's backdrop.
"And now, ladies and gentlecolts, for your enjoyment.." A smooth announcer's voice echoed around the room. Mare-Do-Well observed. "..we present.. Sweetie Belle, the Shining Star of Everfree!" The hero's eyes widened as she watched a dazzling mare step out onto the stage. It was Sweetie, truly. But like herself, her friend had grown both in body and in beauty. Her pastel-hued mane was gorgeous, reminiscent of her sister Rarity's. Her emerald-green eyes shone and sparkled in the spotlight. She wore a flowing white dress which positively glowed. The crowd stomped their hooves in approval. Mare-Do-Well had to consciously stop herself from doing the same as Sweetie breathed in, her eyes sliding shut as she prepared to let out the first note of song. The angelic sound sparked a tiny something inside the hero's heart, and she held her breath. In a flash, Sweetie's song was cut short, and the feeling was extinguished without mercy. The wall opposite to the stage exploded inward in a bright blue fireball of debris and steam. Sweetie turned her head to blot out the icy glare, and the ponies gathered in the club began screaming in panic and hysteria. Mare-Do-Well watched in awe as a lone figure stepped into the club through the wall of slowly-clearing white steam from the blast. It was a thinly-armoured Unicorn pony. A mare, by the look of its body structure, clad in metallic armour plating. She wore a helmet of some sort, her eyes hidden behind the visor. The visible portions of the pony's skin were bald, hairless and pale grey, with half-visible blue veins and arteries spread across her bald skin. As she looked around (presumably using some technology fitted into the helmet similar to her own suit's systems, Mare-Do-Well reasoned,) she silently watched the snow flurry into the club. Ice began to form in thin sheets over the tops of drinks in glasses, and cold wind blew around. The ponies in the club shuddered violently in the cold, Sweetie among them.
"Sweetie Belle." A dry, crackling, electronic voice sounded from the pony. "I am here for Sweetie Belle. Where is she?" Sweetie stepped forward, calling out to the cold new intruder.
"Here I am.. And who are you?" She watched the armoured pony step forward slowly, metal boots clanking on the floor.
"I am Hyperborea. Now surrender yourself and come with me." The pony spoke monotonely. Sweetie Belle, casting concerned glances this way and that, darted off down the room. "You should not have done that." Hyperborea stated calmly, lowering her horn and powering up a spell. Mare-Do-Well could hesitate no longer, and she slammed her full weight into the metal grate below her. The panel bent outwards, snapping away with a metallic clank. Mare-Do-Well plummeted down toward the floor of the club, spreading her wings open at the last second and swooping forth to face Hyperborea head-on. The attacker did not react, simply turning around on her iron-clad hooves and firing the icy bolt of freezing magic at the oncoming hero instead. Mare-Do-Well was aware of an intense pain for a few moments before she went numb all over, her skin fading from sense. The entireity of her body was quickly being encased in transparent ice, freezing from the impact point of the magic blast and spreading all over. She dropped from the air, sliding to a stop on the floor. Mare-Do-Well had become a helpless ice sculpture. Her eyelids remained frozen in their open position, but the sudden shock to her system combined with her frail condition after the coma beat her into painful, blissless unconsciousness.