Mare-Do-Well: Everfree

by PaddedCell

Chapter Nine: The Mask She Wears

Tarn glared across the room at the Baron, who belched smoke from his cigar, looking around curiously.
"Why'd you bring this guy, huh? You know we have a reputation to keep." He hissed, eyeing the mob boss. Mare-Do-Well sighed quietly, joining him in staring down the Baron with cold contempt.
"I know he isn't the best choice of ally, Tarn." She replied, looking down. "But he's promised to lead me to Sweetie Belle. Without his help, I may never find her." Tarn listened without breathing a word, and finally, he trotted forth to meet the Baron face-to-face. Raising a hoof, he slammed it on a table which sat before him. The Baron snapped to attention as Tarn began issuing his demands.
"Look here, Baron. I dunno what you're playin' at, but I have a business to run here. We're fighting a war, so you're gonna follow orders, or I'll have you shoved onto the street and shot between the eyes.. Right?" He spat.
"Heh.. I like your tone, son." The Baron chuckled dryly, puffing out smoke. "Direct. Just what I like in a stallion." He grinned.
"We ain't here to compliment, so get to the point. What can you offer us, and what do you ask in return?" Tarn replied.
"Right.. Down to business then." The Baron nodded, sitting on a crate at the table. "I can offer you all my full arsenal. Guns, bombs, ammunition, reinforcements.. All for next to nothin'." He sat back, taking a drag. "All I ask is that I get a full share in any reward we get for this, ah.. Operation. Cash, lucrative business, gorgeous mares, and maybe a couple 'o imported cigars from the Crystal Empire." He cackled then, flicking the burnt-out cigar to the floor and crushing it with a hoof. "All I want is a free Equestria. Freedom means free trade, free business... And all that means that I get to stay filthy rich." He snarled the last line, an animalistic, malicious tone of greed in his voice. Tarn hesitated for a moment.
"We'll do what we can." He nodded solemnly, offering a hoof to shake. The Baron took it, shaking roughly and grinning.
"So we're on our way to freedom then." He concluded, standing. Tarn looked back at a silently thoughtful Mare-Do-Well.

Hours later, Mare-Do-Well soared out over Everfree City once again. Sticking low and swooping in and out of the shadows to avoid Street Mare patrols, she neared her mark. The navigational equipment inside her suit periodically fizzled and glitched out, causing her to have to smack at her mask with a hoof. Soon, however, this wouldn't be a problem. She dropped down to the floor in a dark, grime-encrusted culvert to the side of a road, and padded quietly down into the open sewer pipe. The place stank of rancid sewage and built-up gas, and now Mare-Do-Well thanked Celestia that her mask managed to block out some of the smell. Proceeding onward down the dark pipe, she began navigating the labyrinth of tunnels to search out the runoff pipe which dropped into the waterfall basin outside the city - and the pipe which would lead her back to the Lair. Booting up the night vision setting in her suit, her eyes lit a bright electric blue as she began her search into the sewer. The search took her at least an hour, if not more. After twisting and turning and feeling panic set in, she finally came across a heart-warming sight. Before her, the pipe opened out into a huge channel, where rushing sewer water continued on through a huge tunnel and finally drained out through the waterfall which masked the entrance to the Lair. Diving out into the foul stream, Mare-Do-Well allowed the current to carry her along to the mouth of the tunnel. As she reached the lip of the abyss, she leapt forth into the air, spreading her wings and gliding out of the tunnel. She turned downward then, plummeting toward the basin at the foot of the waterfall and pulling up again just in time to glide into the hidden entrance. She dropped forward into a roll, and stood up. The lamps in the Lair were only half working, some flickering and others broken completely. Galloping inside the main cavern, Mare-Do-Well was relieved to find that the main computer had remained intact throughout its years of disuse, and the screen had flared into life as she had entered. Pressing a booted hoof to the control panel, it welcomed her back to the sprawling hidden hideaway.

After a visit to the equipment vault, Mare-Do-Well emerged in a clean, functional suit. She had retrieved a new hoof-mounted cannon, and tested its capability; Functioning perfectly. Logging onto the computer again, she searched for some well-deserved and clearly-given answers about the origins of Everfree City.
"Computer, search for all news articles on Everfree City, specifically including its founding and government." The machine whirred for a few minutes, and then returned a collection of recently-published newspaper articles and reports, predominantly from Manehattan, Trottingham and Ponyville. Mare-Do-Well began reading the headlines. "Hmm.. 'Everfree founded by criminal mastermind, claiming full legality'.. 'Canterlot Correctional break-out was planned, experts say'.. Here's the information I need." She smirked beneath the mask, but her sneer dropped as she read the most important line. "'Everfree City was founded by infamous criminal mastermind.. Trixie.'" Mare-Do-Well stared at the screen, blue eyes wide with shock as mixed emotions rose in her heart. Trixie, the one who had mercilessly gunned down her mentor Rainbow Dash. The one who had been responsible for her having to peel a blood-flecked costume from the weather-mare's lifeless body, and don this shadowy disguise. The one who she had presumed dead or completely disabled after her fall from the courtroom window. That sneering, smarmy, self-righteous bitch. Mare-Do-Well dropped her eyes to the floor, closing over the weary lids as she let her body slump into the control seat. There was a moment of introspection then, one which felt more like an hour than a minute. She wondered whether she could keep this up anymore. She had been beaten senseless, had her mentor, hero and closest friend killed in front of her, and been tortured for an entire week by a merciless, cold antagonist, coming close to her mental breaking point. Peeling away the hat and mask, Scootaloo let her dark purple mane fall and hang low on her face as she reflected on her own state of mind. In all honesty, she was more of a slowly-ticking time-bomb of pent up rage at the moment. Rage, and sorrow, and pure anguish bubbled and seethed below the cold, calm exterior she put on as the masked hero. It was the disguise she wore, the mask she used to hide her face, that kept her sane. And with a sinking feeling of dread in her stomach, Scootaloo realised that she was slowly becoming less of an individual. Scootaloo was disappearing behind the larger figure of Mare-Do-Well, fading obscurely into the shadows. Soon, there would be nothing of herself left. Only the faceless, pitiless hero. The part she played was becoming her own life.