Rainbow Dash's leg braces arrived at the Rainbow Manor the next morning. She decided to put it on in the Batcave, where there were no eyes save for those of the bats and one very melancholy butler. She was low on sleep that night, having only gotten a few hours since the masquerade, but she felt wide awake. There had been enough sleeping the past eight years.

Staring down at the braces she'd placed on her knees, Dash felt the nervousness about them she'd felt when she'd ordered them coming back onto her again. She gulped, and pressed a button on each of the braces. They immediately tightened on the joints her leg, causing her to scream in utter agony, if for only a second.

Fluttershy, who had been watching with a disappointed expression on her face, asked, "Does it hurt terribly?"

Dash turned to her butler, breathing heavily and trying not to scream again. "You're welcome to try it, if you'd like."

The yellow mare shook her head. "I'm happy just watching, thank you."

Rainbow Dash waited for the agony to dull down. When it did, she slowly stood up on her hind legs and bent her knees. There was an infinitesimal moment where pain wracked her legs. Then it was gone, and she could walk.

"Not bad," she said, grinning down at the braces. She spun suddenly and administered a kick to a brick podium nearby, breaking a large chunk off. The bats overhead screeched, and she watched them fly around the stalactites madly.

"Not bad at all."

Fluttershy looked at the chipped podium, looking disappointed at her ability to walk--and kick--again. A pensive look replaced the disappointed one, and she looked over at Rainbow Dash.

"If you're seriously considering going back out there, then I think you should know something about this Spike character. There are...rumors."

"All ears," replied Dash, sitting down again and giving Fluttershy her full attention.

"There is a prison," Fluttershy began. "In a lonely part of the world. In a part of the world where dragons live. There is a pit, out there in the middle of nowhere. A pit where ponies, dragons, griffons, you name it, are thrown in to suffer and die. Wings are removed from pegusi, horns are broken off of unicorns, and these creatures live in agony. But, sometimes, somepony rises from the pit. Sometimes the pit spits something back up."

Rainbow Dash nodded. "Spike."

"Born and raised in Tartarus itself," said Fluttershy, looking as though she might go running under a table any second.

"Born in prison?"

"Nopony knows why," replied the butler, "and nopony knows how he escaped. But I do know that the one who trained him..." She seemed to not want tell her. But, eventually, the truth came out. "...was Ra's al Ghul. Your old mentor."

Rainbow Dash stared at her butler in dismay. Ra's al Ghul, known by the alias of Prince Blueblood, had been the leader of the group known as the League of Shadows, an ancient order of assassins and crusaders bent on destroying crime and corruption--by any means necessary. Rainbow Dash had been trained to carry on the League's work, and insteadhad been sculpted into the Dark Mare that was now readying to return.

Then Ra's had turned his sights on Ponyville, something she couldn't allow him to do. In the end, he had been incinerated in a monorail derailing. She didn't kill him, but she hadn't tried to save him.

"Spike was picked by Ra's out of the darkest part of the world," continued Fluttershy, shivering as she went on, "and trained him using the same methods he used with you."

"Spike is part of the League of Shadows."

"Was," corrected Fluttershy. "He was excommunicated. And anypony, or dragon, too extreme for the League of Shadows can't be messed with."

Rainbow Dash was not going to be intimidated.

"I'm sorry you don't like what I'm doing, but stop trying to scare me out of this."

"I only want you safe. And when you're the Batmare, you're never safe." She had tears in her eyes again. "You aren't who you were before, Rainbow Dash. You aren't the Batmare anymore." She sniffled, then added, "Please. Don't."

Rainbow Dash turned away from her. "I can't help any other way. I tried." She turned away and began to walk toward a small metal chamber rising up from the ground. "Just ask Rarity," she said, and threw open the closet.

There lay the suit of the Batmare, in all of its glory. Her Utility Belt, the bullet-proof chest plate, the gauntlets adorned with metal fins, the cloak that hid the fact that she could be a pegasus (who would have wings made from fabric when you've already got real ones?)...and the cowl. It shone in the light of the bulbs overhead, its pointed ears standing up attentively. Once, it had struck fear into Ponyville's criminals. Now, it would do so again.

Rainbow Dash took the cowl off of its perch.

The Ponyville Stock Exchange was one of the most evil places in the city. Many ponies, from all social classes, agreed to this theory. The world inside it was so different from the one outside that one would think they'd stepped over to another dimension.

Inside, hundreds of employees ran around in suits and suspenders, trying to buy buy buy, sell sell sell. At a horseshoe-shining station nearby, two of these employees exchanged notes on the sudden reappearance of Rainbow Dash in Ponyville society.

"She showed up at a party, so what?"

"That's change, isn't it? Change is either good or bad. I vote bad."

"On what basis?"

A shrug. "I flipped a coin."

Neither of the business colts paid any mind to the dragon polishing their shoes.

Outside the Exchange, a trader was hurriedly accepting a sandwich from a young-looking drake selling food at a delivery truck. The trader took a look at his sandwich and groaned.

"I ask for rye," he complained. The dragon shrugged, and the colt opened his mouth to protest when something went off on his phone. He checked it, and his eyes widened quickly. The sandwich wasn't important anymore.

The stallion pulled a satchel of ten bits out of his pocket. "Here," he mumbled, and turned to run back inside the building.

He would never get that far.

A motorcycle drove up to the rear entrance of the Exchange. There was momentary confusion from the guards, as the rear was used for deliveries. What was more, the rider was a dragon. They saw that he had a package with him, however, and let him by, albeit a bit grudgingly. A ruby-colored helmet hid his features.

"Hey buddy!" one of the security guards yelled. "Lose the helmet! Need faces for the camera!"

The dragon reached for his helmet.

In the colt's room, one of the janitors mopped the floor. Though he was a dragon, not many ponies seemed to care, though there was the occasional whisper. Behind him, toilets flushed. He snuck a peek at his wristwatch.

It's time, he thought.

Reaching into the bucket of soapy water, the drake removed a large Ziploc bag. In it was a mini-Uzi machine pistol.

He tossed the mop aside.

The two brokers examined their horseshoes proudly, then left for the trading floor again, leaving the horseshoe-shiner to count his pay. He looked up and watched them go.

They didn't tip me, he thought, and almost laughed.

His name was Firestarter, and he was only 16 years old. He was practically a baby, and yet he was ready to die for his cause today. He turned to a stuffed gym bag next to him, opened it, and admired the sub-machine gun inside. It had been a bitch to get inside the Exchange, but the time for hiding it was almost over.

He slowly stood up, shouldering the bag, and walked in the same direction as his previous customers.

The sandwich vendor drew a pistol out from beneath the stand and butted his unhappy customer in the head. The colt fell to the ground, and his sandwich slipped out of his hand and onto the ground.

The dragon stepped in it as he entered the Exchange.

The motorcycle dragon removed his helmet. The sight of the freakish rubber mask on the dragon's head made the guard gasp. He fumbled for the taser on his belt.

Spike was too quick. Lunging forward, the dragon snatched up the guard and tossed him into a group of other guards, sending them tumbling to the ground. Spike was on them in a second, ready to achieve his goal: inflict as much damage as quickly as possible.

He stomped on one guard's throat, caving in his windpipe. At the same time, he grabbed a female guard and snapped her neck as easily as a twig, cleaving another guard's face into chunks with his free claw in the same moment. Blood spattered everywhere. Ribs cracked. Necks were twisted into gruesome angles.

Then Spike stepped out of the ring he'd made with the guards bodies. 20 seconds had past since he removed his helmet.

The horseshoe-shiner burst into the chaos of the trading floor. He raised his sub-machine gun above his head and opened fire, sending sparks flying into the ceiling. A new kind of chaos took hold on the floor. Terrified traders galloped toward the exits, only to find them guarded by more gun-dragons. The janitor and the sandwich vendor joined their companion on the trading floor. The three herded the hostages into the center of the floor using their multi-colored flame breath. When they were herded, a new figure stepped into the room.

Spike strode in through the flames like a demon out of Tartarus. Which, in some cases, he was.

"This is a stock exchange!" yelled one of the hostages. It was the same colt that had stiffed the horseshoe-shiner on his tip. "There isn't any money for you to steal here!"

Spike regarded the colt scornfully.

"Then why would you be here?"

He strode over to the trader and seized him by the neck. His long, spiked tail curled around the colt's wrist and set it on one of the fingerprint readers at the automated trading terminal the trader had been sitting at. It recognized his prints, then asked for a password. The dragon leaned in close and spoke in the stallion's ear.

"Type in the password, or little Twist dies."

The stallion's eyes widened. How could he know my daughter? He typed the password in quickly, and turned to the masked drake.

"There, now-"

He never finished. Spike smashed his head down on the table, knocking him out cold. He gestured to Firestarter, who brought over a USB drive and plugged it into the terminal. Figures and digits began racing up and down the screen, and a light on Firestarter's laptop told him there was a wireless connection established.

Spike watched the numbers race, and his plan unfolded before him.

"Get your truck out of the way!" yelled Scootaloo. She waved her hooves at a large colt driving a cement truck, who was inconveniently sitting in the middle of where the police were making their stand against the dragons attacking the Stock Exchange. The truck driver looked around, saw nowhere to drive, and smirked at the young cop.

"Where can I move it?"

"That way!" Scootaloo pointed behind the truck, and saw that the only clear path was now being blocked by the Royal Guard vans that were currently arriving. Scootaloo cursed under her breath, and turned back to the truck driver. "Just stay here," she said. "In your vehicle."

Then she charged over to where Big Macintosh was talking with Shining Armor, Captain of the Royal Guard and Twilight Sparkle's brother. A terrified colt was galloping over from the building to the two as well. He looked like he was the head of security at the Exchange. He also looked like he was having a very bad day.

"You've got to get in there!" he yelped as he approached. Big Mac raised an eyebrow.

"This is a hostage situation."

"No!" the guard argued. "It's a robbery! He has access to all of the stocks in Ponyville from there!"

Big Mac looked unmoved.

"Ah' not riskin' the lives of mah men for yer money," he replied.

"It's not just my money, you dumb hick!" the head of security yelled. "It's everypony's money!"

Before Big Mac could reach over and slug the guard, Shining Armor intervened.

"Everypony's money, huh? Well, mine's in my mattress, last time I checked."

The head of security leaned in and butted heads with the Captain.

"Yeah? Well, if you let these things do what they like with the stocks, then your mattress stuffing is gonna get a lot less valuable."

The message finally got through to him and Big Mac.

"Cut off all connections, including the cell phone tower." The Captain scowled at the building, and Big Mac wondered if he was thinking about his 401K plan. So was he.

He hoped that it would be enough to stop them.

Firestarter growled and turned to Spike.

"They've cut connections," he said, and checked his laptop again. "But the cell's still working-"

"For now," said Spike. "How long do we need?"

The blueish drake checked. "Eight minutes."

Spike glanced at the clock on the wall.

"Time to go mobile, then."

Big Mac's level of worry hit its peak when a large group of hostages came out of the building, all of them looking terrified. His worry was justified when a group of four motorcyclists came bursting out the doors, carrying a hostage on each bike with them. They sped of down a blocked street, easily jumped the police cars, and zoomed down the road.

The briefness of this sequence of events was so sudden that it took a moment for the police and Royal Guard to react to what had just happened.

Only a moment.

The bikes sped down the highway, ignoring and breaking every speed limit ever set in Ponyville. Horns of unsuspecting cars honked at them as they ran red light after red light. Pedestrians leapt out of the way and ran for cover as the bikes headed for a midtown tunnel. A bus pulled over to let a patrol car by.

The black-and-white cruiser followed the bikers furiously. It's siren blared as the five vehicles approached the tunnel.

Officer Sweetie Belle was a rookie, even more so than Scootaloo. Her partner, the ex-Wonderbolt Rapidfire (often called "the other Soarin'," a name he despised, for obvious reasons), had been on the force for almost twenty years. He was there to watch over Sweetie Belle, and make sure she didn't mess things up on these sort of assignments. Right now, the mare seemed to be enjoying her first high-speed chase, and was gripping the steering wheel tightly and pounding the gas pedal.

If we're lucky, we can be the ones who catch these guys! she thought.

"Shoot the tires!" she yelled at her partner.

"Good call," he said, and leaned out the window, pointing a pistol at the nearest biker. They entered the tunnel, and the veteran cop shot at the bike, missing the tires and, it seemed, almost hitting the hostage on the bike. He realized there was no shot, and pulled himself back into the car as they entered a larger part of the tunnel. It was illuminated by large fluorescent lights from above, and every inch of space was visible from their position in the center of it--at least, until the lights behind them started going off.

"What the-?" Sweetie Belle saw the cloak of darkness speed towards them through her rear-view mirror. Then their engine died.

"WHAT THE-?" she began to shout, when something shadowy sped by them. An ebony cape fluttered behind it.

Rapidfire's jaw dropped.

"That isn't possible..." he muttered, not believing his eyes.

Sweetie Belle turned to him. "What? What is that?" She had no idea what was happening.

Her partner turned over to her, a grin slowly forming on his face.

"Kid, you're in for a show tonight."

The bikes shot out of the tunnel into the starless night, unaware of the pursuit of the cloaked figure that had just disabled the lights. The sandwich vendor, named Lightning, looked behind him, and was pleased to see that the patrol car was not longer behind them. There was a more troubling matter, though, and the combined effect of the blackness of night and his helmet made it impossible to see what that problem was.

He could still hear something chasing them. This wasn't part of the plan.

The bike's engine sputtered and died suddenly. Seizing her opportunity, the hostage pulled hard at her bonds, snapped them, and jumped off the bike as it slowed down. She rolled across the pavement and stood up, shaking violently and bruised in several places.

"Somepony help me, please!" she yelled, waving her hooves wildly.

Lightning drew a pistol from his belt. No loose ends, he thought, and aimed it at the panicked pony. As he slowed down on his silent ride, he aimed, and-

Something knocked him off his bike. Hard. Darkness swept over him, and he felt an iron hoof crush his hand, making him drop his pistol. He attempted to breath fire at the unending blackness, but something stepped on his windpipe, choking him. He felt himself slipping into unconsciousness, and looked over in time to see an armored figure hop back onto what looked like an extreme version of a motorbike. As the figure sped of, its cape fluttered behind it, looking like the wings of an enormous bat.

Big Mac took a moment to take in the news Rapidfire had just given him over the radio. Slowly, he smiled, a let out a whoop.

"Yee-haw! They've spotted the Batmare!" He turned to Shining Armor. "Let's roll!"

The Captain of the Royal Guard nodded, and the two passed by a stunned Scootaloo on their way to their cars.

Is she really back? thought the orange pegasus. After all these years?

She was ready to find out. She sped towards her patrol car.

The bikes, only three now, split up at the next intersection. Two veered one way, and the other took another. An overpass loomed over the crossing--as did the Batmare.

The Bat-Pod drove up to the edge of the overpass, and the fully-armored mare stepped off of it. She pulled out a futuristic-looking gun, and pointed it at the fleeing bikes. It glowed bright blue. An electronic tone sounded, and the muzzle of the gun pulsed.

The janitor had traded his mop for a pistol and a sports bike. He was certain of his ability to evade the police as he separated from Spike and the other biker. Then his engine sputtered and died.

He instinctively hit the brake, and swore loudly when he did. A group of police officers surrounded him as he slowed down dramatically, and the hostage on his bike jumped off to avoid getting caught in the potential crossfire.

The janitor watched him run off. He laughed at the fool's pathetic attempts to hold onto his life. You'll lose it soon, anyway, he thought, resigning himself to his fate and stopping the bike completely. The police were upon him in seconds.

"The fire rises," he muttered under his breath, as though in prayer.

The Batmare frowned as the other two bikes sped off down the highway. The gun hadn't reached them.

Oh well, she thought. I guess we'll do this the old-fashioned way.

She holstered the gun and got back on the Bat-Pod, ready to pursue the masked dragon and his goons. Or, his remaining goon.

The Bat-Pod sped down the highway.

"Get ev'ryone down there, now!" Big Mac yelled into the radio. Scootaloo sat next to him, having resigned to being held back by the crimson stallion. She was having a hard time believing that the Batmare was really trying to do anything wrong, as she'd already taken down two of the culprits for them. Big Mac, however, still seemed to be stuck on the case set aside eight years ago, concerning Soarin'.

The stallion started up the car's engine, grinning almost maniacally.

"Ah'm about ta do what Twilight never could," he said, starting down the road. "Ah'm gonna catch th' Batmare."

Scootaloo sat in silence for a moment, considering the manic tone in her bosses' voice. She turned to him, and asked, "What about the armed robbers?"

Big Mac ignored her.

Patrol cars from all over the city came roaring towards one area of Ponyville. Along with them came helicopters, otorcycles, and even the canine unit.

The question was--who were they chasing?

Spike knew what an EMP pulse looked like, and the darkening world around him said that one had just been fired. Only one individual in Ponyville would use such a device, he knew.

The Batmare.

He decided that the sack of meat sitting behind him was too much of a weigh-down. He rode up next to Firestarter, and in one swift motion grabbed the hostage behind him and put him on the other bike, which had been the only one without a hostage on it.

Firestarter cursed as the added weight threw him out of balance. As Spike sped away, he tried desperately to balance the bike.

Spike looked back to see the Batmare pursuing Firestarter and his hostage. Compassion had always been her weakness, and she was ignoring the only bike without a hostage completely.

Under his mask, Spike smiled.

We'll simply have to fight another day, dear betrayer, he thought.

The radio crackle in Big Mac's car.

"One of the bikes have veered off. There's no hostage," it stated.

Big Mac did not respond.

"Should we pursue?" asked the radio.

"Negative," ordered the stallion. "Stay on th' Batmare."

Scootaloo was appalled. "But the perp's getting away!"

Who d'you want to catch?" asked Big Mac, looking at the pegasus as though she were an idiot. "Some robber, or the bitch who killed Soarin'?"

Scootaloo gave him a poison look, but held her tongue.

Spike sped past the cop cars that were now intent on catching the Batmare, driving in the opposite direction. The return of the Caped Crusader was exactly what Spike had needed to escape easily. Spike chuckled.

"Welcome back," he said to the air. "We've all been waiting."

The dragon made his way to a nearby tunnel, ignoring the helicopters, motorbikes, and other patrol cars as much as they were ignoring him. Without decelerating, he sped into the tunnel.

Firestarter was in trouble. Having been left behind with the remaining hostage while Spike made his escape, he found that every time he checked the rear-view mirror, the Batmare was closing in. Thankfully, he heard a beeping coming from his laptop. The program was finished, as was his mission. Now he just needed to escape.

Which he couldn't do.

He turned back, and saw that the Bat-Pod had gone out of view. It suddenly zoomed up next to his bike, and Firestarter was shocked to see that it had no rider. The Batmare had disappeared, and he realized what this meant too late.

"Oh sh-"

A giant black shape descended from the heavens and brained him off of his bike. He rolled across the pavement, and when he stopped, he reached desperately for his laptop.

The Batmare was on him in a second. She smashed the viewing window of his helmet, sending shards of glass into Firestarter's face. She yanked the dragon to his feet, and her mask was mere inches from his face as she shouted at the drake.

"WHAT WERE YOU STEALING?"

He did not answer. The Batmare saw that he woudn't answer, no matter what she did. So, she dropped him, and trotted over to the laptop lying on the ground beside the toppled bike.

On its screen was the meassge:

Then the world was filled with sound. Batmare looked up to see hundreds of officer from Ponyville and the Royal Guard surrounding her. She grunted, and pulled the USB out of the laptop. She shoved it into a pouch in her Utility Belt even as one of the police officers yelled at her.

"STEP AWAY FROM THE BIKE!" he shouted.

As if, thought Batmare before examining her surroundings to get a better view of her potential escape routes. Her eye caught a towing system, and she knew what she could use that for. She sped back to her bike, knowing that the cops wouldn't actually shoot her, and readied the large cannons on each side of the Bat-Pod.

The cops realized what she was doing just as she fired. The cannons blasted the towing device, and part of it fell down to make a sort of ramp. The Batmare sped along the road ignoring the warnings from the police. She hit the ramp and jumped it, speeding off towards what appeared to be-

"Downtown," whispered of the officers. "She's a moron."

Big Mac and Scootaloo were waiting for the Batmare when she turned the corner into one of the main streets of Ponyville. The crimson stallion smiled.

"That's it," he mumbled. "Right here."

Scootaloo recognized the vehicle she was riding from the cruddy footage she'd seen of one of his confrontations with the Joker. The bike had been able to flip a semi-trailer twenty times the size of it with a built-in grappling hook and chain. She thought back to her visit to Rainbow Manor.

I brought her back, she realized. I convinced the Batmare to return. She was embarrassed by the pride she felt as the Dark Mare drew closer. She was trapped, didn't she realize? Why didn't she do something?

She did. Before the Batmare reached the blockade of cop cars, she turned ninety degrees, flipping the wheels of the Bat-Pod as she did so, and went speeding down an alley. She disappeared into the shadows.

Big Mac smirked. "She must not've done much with her brain these past few years. That's a dead end." More patrol units showed up, and slowly began to surround the alley as Big Mac signaled to them. Helicopters hovered over the alley, providing air support.

"Like a rat in a trap," said Big Mac. He approached the alley, gesturing for somepony to bring him a bullhorn. He brought it to his lips, intent on ordering the Batmare out of the alley.

VVARROOOOOM.

A deafening roar came from the back of the alley. Big Mac saw a storm of blown-up dirt and litter headed towards him, and had time to hit the floor before an enormous black aircraft came zooming out of the alley. The lights on the cop cars blew out when the intense wind hit them, and the metal contraption hovered for a moment above the police force. Scootaloo could see the Batmare inside a secure and heavily-armed cockpit. The twin rotors blasted air down upon the cops, and many ponies were shoved to the floor.

The aircraft roared of into the night. Scootaloo stared after it for a while, and turned to Big Mac.

"You sure that was her?" she asked.

Big Mac glared at her and shoved the bullhorn at her.

From her hospital bed, Twilight watched the events in downtown Ponyville unfold. The TV was tiny, the picture was blurry, but the image of the giant black aircraft zooming out into the night. The Batmare had returned.

For the first time in days, Twilight Sparkle smiled.