//------------------------------//
// Chapter Seven: Back in Business 
// Story: Mare-Do-Well: Everfree 
// by PaddedCell 
//------------------------------//

After swinging open the side-door and stepping into the vault, Scootaloo stopped dead.
"Merciful Celestia.." She uttered, throwing back the hood of her cloak. Standing on a catwalk high above the vault floor (which lay mostly below ground level - the entrance opened onto the catwalks above), she could see the problem instantly. The vault itself was colossal. Due to its placement below street level, there was a huge area of space with which to fill the confiscated goods.. And all possible space seemed to be filled. Crates piled upon crates lay across the floors, forming giant stacks. On patrol along the columns of open space between the stacks, were guards. They looked alike to Street Mares, minus the hats and capes and with heavier armouring. Each carried a hefty machine gun. "Right.. Here goes." Scootaloo murmured, and snuck along the catwalk above the nearest guard. As she passed directly below, Scootaloo made her move. Diving down, she landed directly on top of the guard. Smacking a hoof into her helmet over and over, she silenced the enemy quickly and dragged the body into the shadows. A few minutes later, she re-emerged, dressed in a slightly tight-fitting suit of armour.

"I've been sent for the shipment of ammunition we recovered yesterday. They want it delivered to the Mares. I'm also ordered to transport the equipment confiscated from a Miss Scootaloo, after her interrogation a few days ago. It's needed for reverse engineering." Scootaloo said, trying to sound as official as possible. Luckily, the helmet of the suit muffled and distorted her voice a little as she stood before one of the guards, lying through her teeth nervously.
"Is that so? On whose authority?" The guard before her replied, a hint of cynicism in his voice.
"It was.. Septimal. He sent the order, and I've just gotten the message." She let her tone relax a little after the few awkward seconds of coming up with a lie on the spot. "Damned receiver in my helmet was on the blink, they took ages working it out. By the time they realised my radio was dead and they sent the message via another trooper, it's taken three hours to get the message across." The guard slumped a little, and his voice became full of loathing.
"It sounds about right.. The bosses up in HQ are useless. This is what happens when you lump a load of psychopath crime bosses together and give them a toy castle to play with." He motioned with a hoof. "C'mon, I'll help you load the crates onto a transport." Behind her mask, Scootaloo let out a long held-in breath. Within a few minutes, the crates of confiscated ammunition had been lifted onto the back of a jeep-like truck bearing official registration and a dark, blood-red colour scheme. Scootaloo went to boot up the engine, but then realised something. She had never needed to drive a truck, or any other automobile for that matter. Looking down at the maze of complex controls, she found herself panicking.
"Um.. Hey, can you give me a hand with this one?" She called to the guard who had just finished loading up the truck.
"What seems to be the problem?" He asked, looking over the dashboard and climbing into the driver's seat as Scootaloo shuffled over to the passenger side. Voice low, Scootaloo murmured her reply.
"I can't drive." The guard stared at her for a moment. But the tension was broken away as he started to chuckle.
"I thought they trained everyone up to drive these days.." He muttered to himself, still laughing as he took the wheel and started the engine. "Where to? I assume you've been sent to take this ammo to Sector Three.. They're running low." Scootaloo vigorously nodded, clicking her seatbelt across her abdomen as the truck rolled forward and out of the huge corrugated iron door at the front of the vault.

As the truck drove on ever closer to Sector Three, wherever that was, Scootaloo kept her eyes peeled for the alley which entered into the Resistance HQ. Upon spotting it while rolling through an empty street, she stopped the guard who had been driving the truck. He dropped into a ready stance behind the wheel.
"What is it? Hostiles?" He asked, eyes probably darting around beneath his mask.
"Over there!" Scootaloo yelled, pointing past the guard and out of the driver's side window. As he turned to try and spot the non-existent aggressor, Scootaloo reached into the back and yanked out a smallish ammunition crate. Sighing, she swung the heavy wooden box full of bullets at the back of his head, knocking him out cold. Unloading the crates of ammunition and dragging them into the alley, she left the unconscious guard in his truck. Taking off the enemy disguise so not to alarm the Resistance, she entered the HQ and sent some resistance members to have the crates brought down into the base. The mission was over, and for the first time since she had seen him, Tarn looked happy. Standing at the door of one of those side-rooms, she noted the smirk on his face as he nodded his head to her in silent thanks. Ironwork and Heather also smiled, sitting together at a table in the corner. Scootaloo felt a flourishing sense of pride, having managed to bring back the supplies without the help of her equipment.. Which was now in her possession again. She gave a wry smile as she looked over the crate, marked boldly:

'MARE-DO-WELL'.

It was even gift wrapped.

Crawling out of the tunnel and into the moonlight a mere hour later, Scootaloo set down the crate. She prised the wooden lid off, and gazed down at the prize she had managed to reclaim. There it was.. Still beaten and dishevelled, full of tears and stretched in places. But the suit she had missed was now back in her hooves. Staring down at the mask with its lifeless blue eye covers felt almost like staring into the face of a dear friend, and for the first time in a long time, Scootaloo smiled a genuine smile of joy. The mask pulled down over her face, the hat over it. The bodysuit slid on, and the boots were tightened around her hooves. Finally, Scootaloo swung the cape over her back, attaching it with the brooch bearing her familiar Mare-Do-Well insignia. She breathed in the cold air through the mask, and her head cleared.
"Well done." Came Heather's voice softly from behind her. "It was valiant of you to risk your life, and do what you did." Mare-Do-Well turned around, staring into the mare's eyes silently for a moment.
"Thanks. I did it to prove myself, I guess." She replied, her voice subconsciously slipping back into the cold, neutral tone that came with her hero persona. Heather smiled warmly.
"So, what's next for the Mysterious Mare-Do-Well, hmm?" She asked, a gentle hint of mirth in her voice. Mare-Do-Well turned on her hooves, facing out of the alleyway.
"I have a foalhood friend I need to rescue. Regular damsel in distress." She chuckled. "I'll be back though, don't worry." She galloped toward the other end of the alley.
"Oh, and Miss Mare-Do-Well?" Heather called out to her. The caped hero turned in reply, stopping dead. "You do look dashing in that outfit." Heather smirked. "Stay safe." With a curt nod, Mare-Do-Well turned again and raced off into the night.