Mare-Do-Well: Everfree

by PaddedCell

Chapter Ten: Nothing's Fair in Love and War

Mare-Do-Well sat with Tarn, Heather and the Baron around a long table. The crime lord unfurled a huge map over the tabletop, and cleared his throat, inspecting the map closely with a cold and calculating gaze.
"Right.. I've got a network of ah.. Informants.. Spread out across the city, yeah? They usually help keep me informed of rival gangs' movements, and shipments of cargo." He explained, beady eye trailing along the map. Smoke drifted on the air from his cigar, which wobbled on his lip as he unconsciously mouthed the names of streets and estates. "However, with a network as big as mine, I'm sure I can get 'old of your filly friend." He looked up at the masked hero, grinning a toothy grin. "Easy as pie." Mare-Do-Well stared him down, and then silently studied the map herself.
"Send word to your informants, I want every inch of this city searched for that mare." She ordered emotionlessly. The Baron smirked, bowing down and retreating out of the HQ, presumably to issue his commands to waiting lackeys. Heather turned to her, a concerned look on her usually placid face.
"Aren't you worried he'll double-cross you?" She asked. Chuckling, Mare-Do-Well nodded.
"Oh, I know he'll double-cross me. It's just a question of when." She sighed, standing up. "Besides, I slipped a tracer tag into the lining of his coat when he walked out. He won't get far without me knowing." Tarn stood up, grunting as he trotted off to 'take care of some business'. As he moved off, Heather's expression saddened. Mare-Do-Well could only guess at the next order of business from such a hot-headed resistance leader.

That night, five Street Mare compounds, including the Vault from which Mare-Do-Well had recovered the confiscated ammunition and her suit, were demolished by the resistance movement. Keeping radio contact in the HQ's makeshift war room, Tarn ordered the bombings to go ahead. Each target was eliminated, one after the other. The replies came back across the radio, and Mare-Do-Well, listening from a shadowy corner of the room, felt emotions churning in her stomach. She retreated to one of the adjoining rooms, locking herself in a small, blank bathroom to the side of a storage area. Slipping off her mask, she stared into the eyes of her reflection as she tried to make sense of the sudden rush of feeling. She should be happy, shouldn't she? The Street Mares had been dealt a huge blow, and this act of violence would be better in the long run.. Wouldn't it? She sat on the toilet seat, feeling sick in her stomach. What if this killing wasn't the right thing to do? She turned over the scenario in her mind. Hundreds of Street Mares must have been killed without any mercy tonight. Blown right out of existence, or disabled beyond anything that could rightly be called 'life' by horrendous explosive blasts. This was the war at its worst; unthinking, uncompassionate murder. In Tarn's eyes, the boundaries of the war were black and white. No middle grounds, and no mercy for the enemy. A bloody-minded, unrelenting need to exterminate a rival had poisoned his mind. But in a war so harsh, what could Mare-Do-Well fight for? Could a hero who had spread peace across Equestria become an agent of murder? Even to save the oppressed?
"Scootaloo?" Came Heather's voice, soft and quiet, from beyond the bathroom door. "Scootaloo, are you all right?" The room was unlocked, and the mare stepped out, holding her mask and hat in a hoof. She looked pale.
"I don't want to do this anymore." Scootaloo uttered, tossing the mask to the floor and sitting against the wall beside it in the dim room. Heather sat beside her, and both stared into space for the longest time in silence. In the war room, resistance members chattered and quietly celebrated the victory of the night. Tarn's cheering was the most prominent.
"War isn't a good thing." Heather agreed. "If I could just turn back time, I'd be so much happier."
"I can't deal with the killing. It's so.. Unfeeling. The Street Mares may be the enemy." Scootaloo looked up and turned to stare at Heather. "But they're still living, breathing ponies. And I'm afraid. I'm afraid that the longer this war goes on, I'll become just another killing machine in this bloody stalemate." Heater nodded solemnly as Scootaloo looked back down at the floor. She leaned into Heather's side as she felt the mare's hoof curl around her shoulder in a hug. Scootaloo turned to Heather, a warm smile crossing her face as her cheeks warmed. She held Heather close, overjoyed that at least someone could understand what it felt like. Someone else could show a compassionate side. Someone else was like her. A warm feeling radiated from her chest as that thought hit her. She stared into Heather's eyes, and Heather stared back silently, smiling. The world froze, and all other noise was dampened out as Scootaloo pressed her face forward, and kissed the mare beside her. To her surprise, Heather returned the kiss. The two were lost in the embrace for what felt like hours, until Ironwork trotted into the storage room to pick up rifle parts a mere few minutes later. Noticing the mares in each other's hooves, he blushed a little and chuckled a dry laugh. Shaking his head, he grabbed the small box of rifle stocks.
"You oughta leave a note on the door, huh?" He called as he left, grinning. The two chuckled along, and turned back to each other as the grizzled veteran left the room.
"I think I love you." Scootaloo managed to stammer. Heather smiled brightly.
"Trust your heart. It always worked for me." The mare replied.