The Daring Do Well Life Style

It was nine o’clock in the evening, Equestria time, and Daring Do was curled up in her den. She enjoyed these quiet, peaceful moments, when she wasn’t practicing hooves-on archaeology and the world was not in mortal danger. They helped remind her that there was more to her life than constantly dodging near-certain death.

The fire was roaring, the tea was still hot, and her book was proving a pretty good read. She might have enjoyed things a bit more if the tea had actually been decent, as opposed to simply hot, but she didn’t feel a need to get up and brew a batch of something better. She was far too busy reading Friendship is Magic to do much tea-drinking anyway.

So life was good. All the more so when Daring recalled that it was guaranteed to stay that way for at least a few hours.

Because, in a very fat folder lying next to her armchair, there existed a three-hundred-and-eighty-two page document from the Bureau of Local Equestrian Heroes. Minus roughly three-hundred-and-eighty-one pages of unnecessary legalese, said document effectively stated the following: The continued existence of the known universe officially qualifies as Not Daring Do’s Problem during such hours as nine to twelve at night. Equestria time.

And with that, Daring Do — professor of archaeology, expert on the occult, and obtainer of rare antiquities — had gone out to a figurative and well-deserved lunch.

She turned a page of Friendship is Magic and chuckled to herself as she read the first line. “‘I never leave home without my party cannon!’” Daring grinned. Pinkie Pie with a cannon that could fire parties? Pure comedic genius. If only the cannons Ahuitzotl had aimed at her a few months ago had been loaded with parties too. That alone might have made the incident in Neighjing worth the trouble.

Heck, if only her whole life were more like Friendship is Magic.

Daring giggled to herself as it hit her that she was really getting into this two-bit book she'd found buried in the book shop's bargain bin. Okay, so the story was a mite bit absurd in some places, and it smelled of more than a little escapism, but so what? She distinctly enjoyed its premise of an Equestria that was not constantly threatened by total annihilation... Where the day did not always need heroes like her to roll out of bed and save it. Again, distinctly escapist in nature, but who could blame her for wanting a little escape every now and then?

She turned another page. And then another. And then one more for good measure.

The phone rang, but as such incidents were currently Not Daring Do’s Problem, she let it go to the answering machine. “Miss Daring Do?” came a panicky mare’s voice, distorted by static. “You must fly to Mahaysia at once! The Sapphire Stone has been restolen again for the third time and only your expertise can avail us. Please reply with the greatest possible haste. The fate of us all may depend on it...” And that was the end of the message.

Daring Do briefly considered sitting up for that one, but then she realized that would be stupid and slouched further into her chair. Yes, shoddy museum security had again put the lives of countless ponies in danger, and yes, she was probably the most qualified pony for the job, but four easy words took care of that issue: Not. Daring Do’s. Problem.

Simple!

The Bureau of Local Equestrian Heroes had a whole stable full of ponies with the skillset required to save the world. Surely one of them had nothing better to do than retrieve the Sapphire Stone! Captain Equestria was certainly capable. Iron Pony might have been also. The Amazing Spider Mare was a bit of a maybe, but not necessarily out of the...

Wait. No. The point was that it wasn’t going to be Daring Do this time around. She was tired of always being there whenever evil struck via obscure ancient artifacts, tired of getting caught in fiendishly cunning traps, and just plain old tired. She wasn’t even asking for that much: just for some other schmuck to handle things while she took a three-hour vacation.

Was that wrong of her?

Apparently so.

She ignored the message and delved back into her book. The Canterlot Garden Party and Twilight Sparkle’s birthday party were both being held on the exact same evening, and Rarity had been invited to both. Having been in a similar situation once herself, Daring Do was very much interested in seeing how Rarity would fulfil her obligations to one party without ruining her appearance at the other.

“Ooooh,” Daring whispered as she turned another page. Trying to make both of them at the same time and switching between them as needed. Tricky, Rarity, but not the best plan. Daring wondered how long the charade would hold up.

And she would have found out by the next page or so if there hadn’t been a particularly annoying thump thump thump coming from the front door.

Of course. Always an interruption. And just when she was getting to the good part, too. She would have screamed in frustration, but that would have been like conceding defeat, and Daring Do did not concede defeat. This break time was precious and, so help her Celestia, she was going to enjoy it. Whatever else happened.

Thump thump thump.

“Nopony’s home!” she yelled. “Try again later!”

The pony on the other side of the door hadn’t gotten the message, it seemed, as the pounding sound of a hoof against wood did not go away. In fact, it quickly got even louder and more difficult to ignore than before.  

“It’s not happening!”

More knocking, and louder still.

Daring groaned. Okay, fine. She’d try asking nicely, relatively speaking. Now it was time to bring out the big guns. The really big screw-you-up guns typically reserved for villainous thugs and door-to-door salesponies.

In a secret panel underneath her coffee table, there was a bright red button labeled “DO NOT PRESS. EVER.” She pressed it.

The effects were instantly noticeable. Klaxons screamed, scarlet lights lit up, and hidden speakers outside played a tin-quality recording of Daring Do’s voice: “Hello. There is a military-grade mine buried beneath my porch. Unless you vacate the premises within the next ten seconds, it will blow you to smithereens. Have a nice day.

“Ten... Nine... Eight... Seven... Six...”

Difficult as it was to hear through the alarms and her own half-drunk recordings, Daring Do could just barely make out the sound of nopony knocking at her door. Success!

Daring pressed the button again and there was silence. Lovely, blissful silence. She took a sip from her tea (which had, unfortunately, gone cold) and smiled; a momentous victory for her continued peace and wellbeing. She did feel a bit bad for having to resort to the big guns, but no real harm done. That “military-grade mine” didn’t even exist. It was, in fact, a horrendous bluff... but one that most unwanted nighttime visitors were surprisingly unwilling to call.

“Now, where was I?” she said, mostly to herself. She scanned page 171, and quickly found the line where she’d left off: ‘I... have to... go to do... the... thing... with the stuff... you know...?’ Rarity gasped. Ah, yes. She’d seen that coming. Rarity’s gambit was falling apart at the seams. Trying to make two parties at the same time was clearly taking its toll on—

The front door exploded.

With reflexes honed through years of experience, Daring leapt from her chair and ducked down behind it. “Oh, come on!” she said, while flying wooden shrapnel battered her cozy chair-shield. “I was kidding about the mine!”

As the dust settled and the smoke cleared, she peeked out from behind her chair. What she was expecting to see, she wasn’t certain. A squad of professional hunter-killer ponies wouldn’t have been too far from the norm. There was also a chance that it was an upstart criminal, looking to make his or her debut by taking out a low-ranking hero. And one couldn’t discount the possibility that it was a neighbor with a particular need to borrow a cup of sugar. Always had to watch out for those.

But none of those things stepped through the hole where there’d once been a wall. Instead, she saw a single masked pony in a dark purple hat-and-cape combo.

Oh no. Not her.

“Mare Do Well!” cried Daring, half in surprise and half in despair.

“Heya!” said Mare Do Well, sounding squeaky and high-pitched and completely unsuited to the biggest name in Equestrian crimefighting. Daring wasn’t surprised. There were at least four different heroes associated with the Mare Do Well name and likeness. At a rough guess, Daring would have placed this one as Mare Do Well #3: The Energetic Earth Pony.

“Do you even know much it’ll cost me to fix that?” Daring shouted at her.

Mare Do Well looked around. “I dunno. How much will it cost you to fix that?”

“Uh... Hum.” Daring hadn’t actually expected Mare Do Well to follow through on that. How much would it cost to fix up the front end of the house? The doorframe was just gone, the wall was pretty much shattered, and more than one bookcase had been caught in the blast... Twenty-five thousand bits in total? Fifty-thousand? Hay’s fever, she didn’t know.

“Well, it’s going to be a lot,” she said. “You’ve totally ruined my house!”

“Don’t worry, Dooey!” said Mare Do Well, giving her a cheerful slap her on the back. “I can pay for it.”

“That’s not the point!”

“Then why’d you bring it up?”

“You blew up my front door!”

“Well, I did try knocking!”

Daring sighed and buried her face in her hooves. In the great heavens above Cloudsdale, it was obvious that somepony hated her. Why else would she be standing in what was left of her den with this... this character? On her break time, no less! Perhaps it was one of those bloodthirsty Mexicoltan sun deities. Their cults had certainly cursed her often enough.

But regardless of which cosmic entity she’d managed to anger, the fact remained that Mare Do Well #3 was in her house. This was, understandably, not an ideal situation.

“Look,” said Daring, not much in the mood to mess around. “I know why you’re here.”

“You do?”

“You’re here to rope me into some crazy cockfool scheme to save everypony, because I’m the only pony registered with the Bureau who can translate the secret hieroglyphs you need to solve the thousand-year-old mystery. Am I right, or am I right?”

Daring jabbed Mare Do Well sharply in the chest and gave her the meanest, dirtiest, rottenest stare she could muster. “The answer’s no either way. I’m on break right now, so come back later.”

Mare Do Well burst into giggles. “Good one,” she said when she finally came to a stop. She snorted and giggled some more. “But no. None of that’s right. I was in the neighborhood, so I said to myself, ‘Self, why not drop in and say hi?’”

Daring’s eyes narrowed with the deepest suspicion. “And you were so desperate to pay me a visit that breaking and entering sounded like a good idea?”

“If you’d just opened your door when I knocked...”

Oh, sweet Celestia, why? Why?

“You look super stressed, Dooey,” said Mare Do Well. “I think you should calm down. And maybe stop gritting your teeth... It is your break time, isn’t it? You should try to relax”

For a second, Daring Do wanted nothing more than to tell the costumed intruder where she could shove that advice, but she caught a glimpse of the clock and that stopped her dead in her tracks. Was it really ten? So soon? Only two hours left of Not Daring Do’s Problem! Only two hours left to relax!

She took a deep breath and tried her darnedest to stay cool. She’d have to play this carefully if she wanted to salvage what was left of her break. “Okay,” she said. “You know what? Fine. Make yourself at home. Just try not to destroy anything else.”

Mare Do Well squealed in excitement. “Can do!”

It was making the best of a bad situation. There wasn’t a force in Equestria that could make the Mysterious Mare Do Well leave the building, so why bother trying? Daring certainly didn’t want the associated lumps and bruises that would have come with defending her territory, nor did she want to spend any more of her precious time in the attempt. Therefore, the only option was to upgrade Mare Do Well from intruder to guest.

She was not conceding defeat. It was purely a tactical decision.

“So, uh,” said Daring Do, “want some... tea?”

“Tea’s good,” replied Mare Do Well. “I like it with plenty of sugar!”

“Wouldn’t have guessed.”

Daring walked to the kitchen, with Mare Do Well bouncing close behind her, and put the kettle on to boil. Just as well that she was making more tea, she supposed. A hot and fresh cup of the good stuff would help immensely in steadying her nerves.  

The two of them stood silently in the kitchen while they waited for the kettle to heat up. They might have gone into the den and done something interesting, but the den was subject to a terrible draft. And it was also a mess. There was no point in playing the blame game for that, Daring Do figured. It was simply Mare Do Well’s fault.

All of it.  

They managed to stay quiet for a little while. A short, blissful while, so far as Daring was concerned. Eventually, though, Mare Do Well decided that toying with the silverware was no longer enough to hold her attention and she turned to Daring Do. Her next victim.

“So...” she began. “What do you usually do during your break?”

“I read,” replied Daring gruffly.

“Read what?”

“Books.”

“What kind of books?”

“Paper books.”

“Such as...?”

“You wouldn’t know them.”

“Try me.”

“Friendship is Magic.”

Mare Do Well reached under her hat and scratched her head in confusion. “I’ve never heard of that,” she said.

“Case in point.”

“Is it good?”

Well, if Daring had to give Mare Do Well — every Mare Do Well — credit for one thing, it was persistence. A never-give-up attitude that was probably the main factor in some five dozen criminal captures and thirty-two days saved from the forces of evil. Consecutively. As a hero who got by on sheer guts and quick thinking herself, Daring Do had to admire that. It didn’t make the constant barrage of questions any less annoying, but it was at least partly to Mare Do Well’s credit.

“It’s, uh...” Daring paused. How to explain Friendship is Magic? It was an excellent book, but not an orthodox story. There were no guns, no elaborate plots, and only two or three villains in total. How could she get that across to a pony who lived and breathed excitement? “It’s boring, I guess.”

“Boring?”

“I mean, not like ‘I’m so bored of this story, I want to stop reading.’ It’s more like... shoot, what’s the word for it? Mundane? I don’t know. There’s not a whole lot of action, is what I’m trying to say.”

Mare Do Well picked up a spoon again and clanged it against the counter. Presumably for no other reason than wanting to make some extra racket. “So why are you reading it, if it’s so boring?”

“I just said that it’s not boring like that!”

“If there’s no action...”

“But that’s the idea. Everything’s so... so peaceful. The world’s not in danger, and nopony’s trying to kill anypony or anything. It’s six ponies and their life. They have some problems, work them out, learn a lesson from the experience. That sort of thing.”

“Sounds boring.”

“It isn’t, I swear.”

The kettle whistled, which conveniently excused Daring from having to explain why it wasn’t boring. “Hope you like Pearl Gray,” she said as she dropped a teabag each into two cups and followed them up with some scalding-hot water.

“Never heard of it. Is it good?”

“How would you know?” Daring muttered, low enough that Mare Do Well couldn’t hear. She poured some milk into each cup, scooped out the teabags, and brought out the sugar. “How much of the white stuff did you want, again?”

“A whole bunch!” said Mare Do Well.

“I’ll consider that a teaspoon.”

“Oh, you’re no fun.”

By the end of things, there were two cups of piping hot tea on the counter. Daring took hers and blew on it until it was just hot enough to drink without scalding her throat. Mare Do Well grabbed her own cup and drank it straight through her mask.

And that’s why nopony messes with Mare Do Well.

“So,” said Mare Do Well, setting her cup down. “How’s it not boring?”

Daring took a sip of her tea — oh, yes, she’d needed that — and gave Mare Do Well’s question some thought. “It’s... I think it’s nice, reading about ponies trying to deal with these silly little problems. It’s things like what they’re what they’re going to wear to the Grand Galloping Gala, or how they’re going to pick all the apples at harvesting time. Normal, not-hero pony stuff. Y’know?”

Mare Do Well stewed on that for a moment, tapping her spoon thoughtfully on the counter. “So there’s not even any kung fu?” she asked.

“Not a whole lot.”

“Yup. Sounds boring.”

“Well then, hey, so what?” snapped Daring defensively. “I think we could do with a little more boring in our daily lives.”

The soft hiss of a smoke grenade suddenly filled the room. As did copious quantities of smoke.

She took another sip of her tea. “Case in point.”

Through the smoke, a shadowy figure bounded into the kitchen. A shadowy figure with a wide-brimmed hat and a cape. No prizes for guessing who it was. Only Mare Do Wells could get away with wearing a get-up like that.

“Was that really necessary?” asked Daring.

“Yes, it was,” said the newcomer Mare Do Well. A bright purple glow filled the room and all the smoke vanished with magical speed. Mare Do Well #2, most likely: The Unrelenting Unicorn. “Article 6C of the Doing-Well Code states that at no time may a Mare Do Well’s initial appearance be observed.”

“That’s a stupid rule and a stupid code.”

“Finally, somepony agrees!” said Mare Do Well #3. “See? I told you the Code was a bad idea! But nopony listens to me. It’s just ‘The Code’ this and ‘Don’t fill the closet with cupcake frosting’ that. I swear...”

The second Mare Do Well had nothing to say to that. She ignored Mare Do Well #3, focusing solely on Daring Do. “Hello, Daring,” she said. “I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here?”

“The question had crossed my mind,” said Daring taking another drink. The mellow, flowery taste of Pearl Grey was the only thing standing between her and a minor heart attack at this point. One visitor had been irritating, but ultimately bearable. Two visitors, though... Two Mare Do Wells... Eesh.

“The Bureau of Local Equestrian Heroes believes that your presence is required in Mahaysia. The Sapphire Stone—”

“Nope.”

“But it’s your duty as a—”

“Nope.”

“The Bureau of Local Equestrian Heroes—”

“Has allowed me a three hour break from nine to midnight.”

Though her mask gave her one doozy of a poker face, Daring would have been willing to bet that Mare Do Well #2 was not pleased. “I find that hard to believe,” she said. “The Standard Bureau Charter does not make provision for that sort of thing.”

Daring shrugged. “Nopony’s ever even read the SBC.”

“It’s true,” Mare Do Well #3 chimed in. “Everypony takes breaks when you’re not — I mean, when the Bureau’s not looking.”

Again, Mare Do Well #2 ignored her. “Regardless.”

“The Bureau gave me the all clear in writing.” said Daring. She waved a hoof in the general direction of the den. “Just check over there. Don’t know if you’ve noticed the den yet — excuse the mess — but somewhere in all that rubble should be the necessary paperwork.”

Daring Do watched in silence as Mare Do Well #2 swept up her cape and stepped out of the kitchen. With any luck, it would take a good fifteen minutes for her to search through the remains of the den. Maybe, if she got caught up on the legalistic fluff inside the folder, it would take her another fifteen minutes to get back to the kitchen.

With any luck.

Mare Do Well #3, meanwhile, had gone back to banging her spoon on the counter. Having just got rid of one source of noise, Daring figured it best to get rid of the other. She snatched the spoon up in the blink of an eye and dropped it back in the silverware drawer, where it belonged.

Mare Do Well #3 failed to notice the absence of a spoon in her hooves until the drawer had closed tightly shut. “Oooh, you’re good,” she said, clearly impressed.

“Years of practice,” said Daring, with the faintest hint of pride in her voice. “It’s the sort of thing you pick up when you start stealing idols off of booby-trapped pedestals.”

“I wouldn’t know,” said Mare Do Well. “Mostly I punch bad guys and rescue ponies from falling stuff. Not a lot of idols or pedestals there, but it’s really fun!”

“Must be thrilling,” Daring murmured. She tried to take another sip of Pearl Grey before she realized there was no more left in her cup. She set about making some more with the utmost haste.

“What about you?” asked Mare Do Well. “What do you do for fun?”

“I don’t have a lot of time for fun right now,” said Daring. She blew the steam off her fresh cup of tea and set it aside so that it could finish cooling. “My job’s basically got me flying ‘round ragged these days.”

Mare Do Well cocked her head. “You don’t think your job’s fun?”

“Don’t get me wrong,” said Daring quickly. “Archaeology’s great. I wouldn’t be in the field if I didn’t like it. But all this extra hero business on the side... I mean, yeah, it’s usually up to me to make sure that evildoers can’t conquer the world with ye olden artifacts or ancient magic most powerful, but I’d be pretty happy if I could stick to some regular digging and expedition work. Know what I mean?”

“So you don’t like saving the world?”

Daring frowned, and frowned hard. “Shoot, you’re not even trying to get what I’m telling you.”

“Hey, yes I am!” said Mare Do Well. “I just don’t understand what you’re saying!”

It wouldn’t have been worth it to point out all the problems with that statement, so Daring decided to let it slide. “I mean, I like saving the world. It’s just that it’s dangerous, and a lot of hard work, and I kind of like not dying, so... I kinda wish I didn’t have to go through that some days. It’d just be cool to be a normal pony every now and then, I guess.”

“Like... in your boring old book?”

Daring mock-clapped in mock-astonishment. “She gets it at last!”

“It’s my genius detective instincts,” said Mare Do Well, pointing to her head. “I always figure it out in the end.”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll bet,” Daring said. She rolled her eyes and hoped that Mare Do Well’d caught that.

“No, really! I think I get it now. You like to read boring books because you want to be boring too, right?”

It was testament to the Mysterious Mare Do Well’s inscrutability that she’d managed to say something like that with absolute cheer and no obvious malice.

“I... wouldn’t put it like that,” said Daring. “Somepony’s gotta save the world, right? I’ve still gotta do my part, whatever else happens. But it’s like, ‘Hey, I get shot at a lot, so why would I want to read about other ponies getting shot at?’”

“Okay, I was close. You just want to read about being boring.”

“Right... Yeah. So, anyhow, I enjoy reading it. Because, hey, why not? it’s the sort of life I don’t get to live. Sort of nice to imagine what it’d be like if I could just sit around and not have to worry about that stupid, dumb, ugly, stupid Sapphire Stone getting stolen all the time. Did you know the ponies in Friendship is Magic all get to sleep for eight hours daily? Ain’t that the life.”

“I get no hours of sleep, because justice never sleeps,” said Mare Do Well. Then she snorted and burst out laughing. “I’m kidding. Justice sleeps all the time! Except for when I’m not sleeping, so maybe you could that justice only sleeps some of the time...”

“That’s my spiel, anyway,” said Daring, distinctly aware that she was building into a rant. “Sometimes I don’t want to have to be the one with all the responsibility. Sometimes I just want to be the Rainbow Dash. One of her chapters is about finding the right pet for her. Gosh, I wish I could get a tortoise. Instead, I have to foalsit Ahuit-freakin’-zotl every day so that he doesn’t ruin civilization as we know it. Does that seem fair to you? Doesn’t seem fair to me. But reading books is how I like to get away from that for an hour or two, y’know?”

But Mare Do Well seemed to have run into a full-steam rant of her own, and wasn’t about to stop for such petty things as Daring Do’s personal problems. “I mostly take naps in the closet now, though, because none of the other Mare Do Wells bother to use it. Not since I flooded it with cake frosting. They say it smells too sugary.”

“So, uh, now do you see why I like this book, and why it is not boring?”

“And maybe it does smell a lot like cake frosting, but I don’t see anything wrong with smelling like cake frosting. Cake frosting smells good! Have you ever tried eating just pure cake frosting? I know it seems kind of silly to eat it without the cake, but trust me...”

Welp. That was it, then. Daring Do had opened up her heart to a semi-stranger and received in return a tip about where to catch some shut-eye in the Mare Do Well Cave. She picked her tea up from the counter and gulped it all down. She knew she’d hate herself for it in the morning, when her throat became a giant third-degree burn, but she did it anyway. Just because.

“Yeah, okay,” she said. “Thanks for listening. Knew you’d understand.”

“Oh, no problemo!” said Mare Do Well. “I’m great at understanding. It’s my genius detective instincts, I tell you...”

It was about then that Mare Do Well #2 poked her enormous hat — and her considerably less enormous head — into the kitchen again. “I’m baaack,” she announced. She held up her hooves, showing off a battered, but still fat, manila folder. “And look what I found!”

“Joy,” said Daring Do, with a distinct lack of joy.

“I was just looking through that written permission you’d mentioned...”

“Fantastic. So you’ll be on your way shortly, I take it?”

“Well, uh... no.”

“...No?”

That didn’t sound good.

Mare Do Well #2 flipped through the folders contents and found the page she wanted. A bright purple glow surrounded it and it floated through the air toward Daring Do. “Most of it does seem to be in order, buuuuuuut, as it turns out, there’s a loophole or two that you might have overlooked...”

“You’re kidding!” Daring shrieked. She grabbed up the page and looked it over. “‘In the event of an actual world-peril situation in which... Daring Do is unanimously acknowledged as the most qualified pony for the job... the aforementioned break time is to be considered null and void.’”

It took a minute for that to sink in. It took her a minute more for her to summon up the unspeakable, mindbending anger appropriate for the situation.

“By Panama’s hat! You’re not kidding! They actually had the nerve to slip that in!” She crumpled up the page, stuffed it into her empty tea cup and then tossed the teacup into the wall, where it promptly shattered.

“Ouch.” Mare Do Well #3 winced. “That’s gotta be the worst.”

“I know, I know,” said Mare Do Well #2, in a tone that almost approximated genuine sympathy. “It doesn’t seem fair.”

“Darn right it doesn’t!”

“In their defense, though, you really should have read the entire—”

“Puh-lease! They do that on purpose. They know that nopony ever bothers to read anything, so they make it three-hundred-and-eighty-two pages long and hide lines like that in there. I don’t even think they’ve invented a word for how low this is. Not even in Equestrinidad, and they invented limbo there!”

“Deep breaths, Dooey,” said Mare Do Well #3, patting her on the back. “It’s not so bad. You just gotta calm doooown.”

“How am I supposed to calm down?” Daring shouted. “This is — gaaaaah!”

Then a thought occurred to her: maybe it was already midnight.  “Wait,” she said. “Wait. What time is it? Anypony got a watch?”

Mare Do Well #2 produced a pocket watch from somewhere inside her cape and glanced at it. “10:45.”

“Gaaaah!”  

This was too much. Just too much. The one break she’d wrangled from the Bureau after weeks of jumping through legal hoops, and they couldn’t even find a replacement for her on this one mission. She would have to fly out to Mahaysia in the next hour or so and go save the world again. The villain of the week was going to be Ahuitzotl again, he was going to try to harness the mystical energies of the Sapphire Stone again, and there were probably going to be snakes. Again.

She hated snakes!

She hated the Bureau!

She hated everything!

Words could not describe Daring Do’s seething rage at that moment, though the foamy spittle dripping from her mouth did a decent job of expressing its effect on her sanity. Anger! Bureau! Unfair! So unfair...

Eventually, her anger fizzled its way into more of a melancholy. Well, all right, then. Fighting it wasn’t going to help, so back to work. What had she been expecting, anyway? She was a hero, after all. Justice never sleeps, the hero must always be vigilant, and blah blah blah. It had been silly of her to expect a break in the first place.

So — time to go... do... something or other.

She looked over at the two Mare Do Wells and was surprised to see them huddling up in the corner, whispering things to each other. When had they done that? Before or after her mouth had started foaming up? Probably after. The foam had a tendency to make other ponies nervous.

But she supposed it really didn’t matter. They were clearly having a secret, not-meant-for-her-to-hear conversation, so it wouldn’t do to bother them out of it. Particularly not when it meant that she didn’t have to leave just yet. Instead, Daring merely cleaned up the fragments of her shattered teacup.

And she kept her ears open.

“Are you sure we can’t do anything for her?” whispered Mare Do Well #3.

“I’m afraid not,” said Mare Do Well #2. “The Standard Bureau Charter is very specific about this sort of situation.”

“But look at her! She just wants some time off to read her book...”

“Yes, sure,” she admitted. “We’ve all been there. Every last one of us. That doesn’t change the fact that there’s a Class-A Artifact at large, and that Daring Do is the most qualified pony for handling those.”

“But there are other ponies who could handle this, right? What about the Big Macintosh? I know he isn’t doing anything right now.”

Mare Do Well #2 sighed. “Look, the Bureau sent me, specifically, to go get her, specifically. It’s going to look pretty suspicious if I don’t come back with her, right?”

“I guess so...”

“Good. I’m glad we had this completely serious talk, without any non-sequiturs.”

“Yeah...”

They broke up the huddle and made their way over to Daring, just as she’d finished putting the last shard of teacup in the garbage can. Mare Do Well #2 looked as stoic as ever behind her mask, but Daring did note that Mare Do Well #3 looked somewhat disappointed. She appreciated that. Mare Do Well #3 had tried, albeit unsuccessfully, to stand up for her. That was enough to balance out all of her character flaws in Daring Do’s book, and most of the debt incurred in blowing up the front door.

She was sort of okay, so far as Daring was concerned.

“Time to go, Daring,” said Mare Do Well #2. “You’ve got everything ready?”

“Sure, why not?” Daring gave a halfhearted grumble. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“The Mahaysian Museum has been expecting you for an hour or so now. You’ll have to doubletime it on the flight.”

“Can do,” sighed Daring.

“I’m sorry,” said Mare Do Well #3. She took off her hat, and put it on her chest.

“It’s fine,” said Daring. She grabbed a spare archaeology hat from her stash under the sink and placed it on her head. “Really, it’s nothing to do with—”

”Sorry for this!”

With no warning whatsoever, Mare Do Well #3’s hat burst into an all-consuming cloud of confetti, far too thick to see through. Daring held her hooves out in front of her in a reflexive defense as she was blinding by a swirling mass of red and pink and green. She had no clue whatsoever as to what was happening, but she wasn’t going out without giving somepony a nasty black eye.

But she wasn’t attacked. In fact, not a single thing happened to her. She’d been expecting to get hogtied and foalnapped, or tackled, at the very least. But instead she got nothing. Nothing except for a mouthful of confetti, at any rate.

When the cloud had finally settled and she had rubbed the last flecks of paper out of her eyes, Daring was able to devote her attention to figuring out what the hay was going on.

“Mare Do Well?” she asked. “Are you there?”

She looked around, expecting to see purple. Lots of it. Or at least some of it.

She saw white. The same color as the kitchen’s tiled walls. She realized then that, except for her, the room was empty.

What...

Did that...

Even mean?

“Mare Do Well?” she called again. “You there? Anywhere?”

No response.

She looked to the left. She looked to the right. Nothing.

Out of the corner of her eye, though, she spotted a something: a little white rectangle sitting in the midst of a whole pile of red confetti. Daring picked it up and studied it. There were letters on that little white rectangle, and those letters were arranged in just such a pattern as to make words. She studied it closer.

“‘Told you I’m great at understanding,’” she read.

Then it hit her, and she grinned wide enough to split her face open.

“Celestia bless you, Mare Do Well Number Three,” she said.

It was eleven o’clock in the evening, Equestria time, and Daring Do had just stepped into her den. The fire had long since burned out and the tea was nonexistent, but her book was still there, so there was that.

She brought out the fabled Torch of Tirek, and set it in the fireplace. It laughed chillingly, and lit up with a bright green blaze, which was almost as warm as a real fire.

Technically, the Torch belonged in a museum, but Daring Do figured that there was no point in being an archaeologist if one couldn’t get some use out of the past. Not to mention that museums weren’t the best at holding on to priceless magical artifacts.

That done, she righted her armchair, plopped herself down into it, and opened her book, which had proven itself a pretty good read. She might have enjoyed the rest of her evening a bit more if she’d still had a front door, or if she hadn’t recently gone through the equivalent of an aneurysm, but she didn’t feel much of a need to dwell on such things.

She was far too busy reading Friendship is Magic.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On a skyscraper rooftop in downtown Manehattan sat two costumed figures. Their costumes were both the exact same dark purple, with the exact same hat-and-cape combo. In most respects, it would have been completely impossible to tell the two of them apart.

Unless you happened to notice that one Mare Do Well was tied up with rope.

“Ugh,” groaned Mare Do Well #2 as she eased herself back into consciousness. “What happened?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” said Mare Do Well #3 cheerily. “I punched your lights out.”

“Why in Equestria would you do something like that?”

“Because in your official report to the Bureau, you are totally going to say that you were mysteriously incapacitated before you could deliver Daring Do her assignment.”

Mare Do Well #2 considered this. “It was really that important?”

“Super duper important,” said Mare Do Well #3. “You could really tell that she needed the break.”

“But what about the Sapphire Stone?” cried Mare Do Well #2. “We can’t just leave it in the paws, claws, and/or hooves of a criminal!”

“I called in a favor,” said Mare Do Well #3. “Con Mane’s on the case as we speak.”

“Even so...”

“C’mon,” she pleaded. “Didn’t you see how messed up she was without some time to relax? Everypony needs a vacation now and then.”

“I don’t.”

“Also,” she said, putting her voice down as a low whisper, “she read your book.”

Mare Do Well #2 gasped. “I told you never to speak of that again! That was a one-time wish-fulfilment fantasy. It was just pure escapism, and I don’t even know why I wrote it.” She froze. “Oh, Celestia... You didn’t say anything to her about it, did you? The Code specifically says—”

“I didn’t say anything!” said Mare Do Well #3. “Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a cupcake in my eye!”

“Well, okay then.”

“But I think she deserves some time off if she’s down to reading that, don’t you?”

“I... guess so,” said Mare Do Well #2. “You really would have to be pretty jaded if you like reading about ponies with boring old lives like that.”

“Or if you like writing about them,” teased Mare Do Well #3.

“Untie me, so that I may destroy you.”

“You are going to sit here with me for the next few hours. And we are going to take our own break. And we are going to like it.”

“So what if I use magic to get loose?”

“Then I flood everything with cake frosting.”

Mare Do Well #2 gasped in horror, remembering the last time #3 had threatened the cake frosting. It had not turned out for the best. “Well,” she said. “Okay then.”

“Glad we could have this chat!” said Mare Do Well #3. “Now, I was thinking that, for our next big superhero pony party, we would have streamers. No — get this! Streamers and confetti. No — get this! Streamers, confetti, and fireworks! But it’d have to be an outdoors party if we’re going to break out the fireworks, so maybe if we...”

As always when #3 broke into a rant, Mare Do Well #2 tuned her out.

That distraction eliminated, she considered her situation: she was tied up and there was no way of her getting loose. Therefore, she could stop struggling against the ropes and relax. Which she did.

It was oddly peaceful, getting foalnapped by one of your best friends. She felt... free, in a sick, twisted, metaphorical sort of way. She could not get out of the ropes without risking a room full of frosting, so the matter was simply out of her hooves. It was a complete absolution of responsibility, and it was... nice.

The report to the Bureau was going to be a nightmare to fill out, but for these few hours, there was nothing she could do. She was under the eye of another Mare Do Well, after all, and Mare Do Wells are the best in the business.

With that logical analysis of her situation completed, Mare Do Well #2 closed her eyes. Within a minute, she was snoring, and another minute after that, she’d drifted into a full-on slumber.

Because justice sleeps. But only some of the time.