The Criminal Escapades of Thick H. Boner and Running Riot!by WorldWalker128ChaptersIntro: I'm NOT under arrest?No Infamous Thief Starts Out That WayIt's better to work for yourself!Intro: I'm NOT under arrest?Well Colt, you caught me, so I suppose courtesy and congratulations are in order; Hi. I’m Thick. No, I don’t mean that I’m fat! (Though I've certainly gained a few pounds since my retirement...)That’s my name: Thick H. Boner. Recognize my name now? No??? Seriously? Hmph, whatever. I suppose it doesn’t really matter. After all, what I’m known for isn’t the nicest of things, and what those things were that I caused to occur happened years ago. Frankly I’m surprised that even Celestia knew I was still alive and sent you. But do you know what surprises me even more? The fact that you actually found and cornered me, and yet don't even know who I am. Seeing me as I am now- old and feeble and with my once gold-colored mane now grey, scraggly and falling out- and to hear me say that I used to be nearly a master of infiltration for theivery, but one good look at my Cutie Mark would likely remove all doubt in your mind. Hold on, let me stand up and turn so you can see it...there we go: a pony-ghost slipping through the bars of a cage! They called me that, too, for awhile: Phantom Thief. I would work my way inside my Mark's house or business or a museum, disable any security spells and avoid the living security, grab what I'd come for, and then get out. In and out, in and out. Smooth entrance, and soft exit almost every time. There were occasions, of course, when I was met with resistance, but sooner or later I'd gain entrance, work my target hard for my trouble, and then leave. Usually while wearing a smile and aglow with satisfaction. Traps had been set for me on occasion, and due to my cocky self I'd very nearly fell into them many times, too! But, as long as I had miss Riot backing me up we could easily double-team any- Ahh! I see a look of recognition in your eyes there; I hear her grandfoals are making quite a stir in the world these days. Yes, miss Running Riot was a real firecracker of a mare, and I am honored to have called her my partner in crime. Well, until she dropped out of the robbing business and went straight, that is. After she left things were never quite the same again, and it was only a few years later I put myself out to pasture. But that's not why your here, is it; to hear about infamy lost, and 'ol Thicky-B gone soft? Hmm? What's that? You're not here to arrest me? Then why- Ah, I see now, you've got a quill and notepad. So, you're writing a book and are looking for someone with first-hand experience? Alright, fine. But I don't want you using my actual name. It's not a common one, and if I'm still on record I don't want a police-pony kicking my door in sometime down the road. So then, what would you like to hear about first? No Infamous Thief Starts Out That WayClip clop! Clip clop! softly tapped a set of hoofs as the body they were attached to slowly (and not as quietly as he would have liked) but surely made its way across the cobblestone road of Manehatten to the darkened on the other side. The gate was well-cared for and not the least bit rusty, though really there was no reason for it to be due to it not being made of iron or steel. It was instead made from copper, and due to it being polished once a week there was not a single spot of green on it even though the gate and the fence it was attached to were well over fifty years old. Thankfully it had not rained recently and both the hinges and the latch had been recently greased. There was a lock in the latch, but it was a simple one, and in a few short seconds it clicked open and was carefully lowered and placed on the ground next to the fence where he would not trip over it on his way back out from the house. The house’ owner was currently away in Fillydelphia attending an aunt’s funeral, and according to the thief’s information, was not due to be back for at least another week due to there being an argument as to whom was to inherit what. It was specifically for that reason that this house was his target: he simply despised those that had been hoofed everything they’d ever wanted while growing up. He’d not once robbed someone that could not recover from the loss (except for those four times he’d robbed graves, but since nothing short of a demonic ritual would help them recover anything and the dead had no need for the five hundred bits’ worth of jewelry on them he’d had no moral conflictions with it. Lifting the latch and pushing it slowly inward, young Thick stuck his head inside and looked around, turning his ears as he did in search for guards. Nothing. He smiled a little, and then let the rest of his body in and shut the gate behind him. Anypony passing by would probably not notice the lock was missing, and if they did, so what? The house would be locked as well, and all the windows were barred. What chance would any everyday Pony have of getting inside? Good thing I’m not an ordinary Pony! He chuckled as he trotted around the house to the back. He’d scoped the place out a few days before by disguising himself as a servant. Most of the snobbish Ponies paid little to no attention to their servants unless they were looking for a cheap ride, but thankfully, the mare who lived in this house was more into other mares rather than stallions. Though the windows in the front were barred and so were the windows in the back, one in particular was normally left unlocked so that the owner could let out her birds once in a while. The birds were an energetic bunch, so she always had to make sure she held the cage outside before opening the little door and setting them loose. This was where he’d try to get in. Dodging a decaying garden hose reel, Thick gave the yard another survey and then walked to the possible entrance. Rearing up on his hind legs and standing on a sculpture of a Pegasus, Thick powered up his horn a little and began fiddling with the lock on the inside. As soon as the nob turned he nodded to himself and then tried the bars. Sure enough, it swung open, but unlike the gate , these hinges squeaked a bit. Freezing in place for a few seconds, Thick sighed and rolled his eyes. That little squeak wouldn’t have woke even a Diamond Dog. Leaning back, he swung the bars all the way out, lifted the window with telekinesis, and then hauled himself inside. As usual the shinies were locked up in a small safe embedded in the floor, and as usual it was a simple number lock with only three numbers. Rather than try his hoof at tempting Filly Luck, he instead whistled a merry tune and pushed the bed out of the way and then yanked the entire safe out of the floor. It made a horrible racket, but if the hoof cuffs attached to the bed frame and the cloth attached to the bottom of the door was any indication, the room had been sound-proofed. Flipping the safe over in his telekinetic field, he again rolled his eyes. It was cheap lock, and a cheaper safe. The bottom of it was made of wood painted black, and after a brief scan with his magic he detected a very thin layer of metal covering the inside. The wood on the bottom was attached via screws, so with a cheap magic trick he spun the four screws (one in each corner) and separated the wood from the thin plate. They probably bought this from some tourist store. He frowned. I don’t get how this richlets will spend thousands of bits on one dress, which they don’t even need, and yet they don’t invest in a reliable safe! Oh well, he shrugged. Just makes it easier for me, I guess. Coming up to the gate once more, this time with the intent of going out and the saddlebags he’s come in with now full of loot of several types, Thick once more swung the gate inward, only to freeze. The Lady of the house was home! Now! Thick stopped breathing, his head slightly dipped. The Lady stopped briefly and looked at him, then kept on walking as if she’d expected him to be there all along. Holding his breath until he suspected he might be turning blue, Thick watched her go up into the house followed by another two servants who opened the door, nodded to him, and then followed the Lady inside. Exhaling his held breath and quickly breathing in more, Thick continued off the Lady’s property and began heading down the street. A few seconds later he smirked a little as a scream burst out from the window he’d left open. I think I’ll buy a Dandelion Delight tonight! It's better to work for yourself!It’s better to work for yourself! Thick grunted again as he was struck in the face with a clutched Gryphon talon. Spittle flew from his lips and his body swayed back and forth on the chains he hung from. His best friend and partner in crime for the last two years, Nut Cracker (an Earth pony), hung bloody, bruised, and unconscious next to him, his breathing shallow. This latest job was supposed to be simple: break into a popular young artist’s home, steal his latest works, and meet their employer on the outskirts of town. The artist had been taken care of by hiring a cute hooker to distract him, and with a little extra incentive she’d dropped a sleeping powder into his drink. As soon as he’d dozed off she emptied his wallet and unlocked the door, letting the two of them in. As she left she turned her head back at the pair and blew Cracker a kiss, who smiled and trailed his eyes over her plot (only to be jabbed in the side by Thick). Once inside the shop the two took out the black and white photographs of the medium-sized paintings they were looking for and then split up. Though the photos were black and white, each of the art pieces had a different design which made it easy to identify them. One was of a one-winged Gryphon that stood atop a mountain peak on its hind legs gazing down at the lands below it, its front legs crossed. A second depicted princess Celestia holding a small sun and a small moon on the frog of each hoof with their little world floating in front of her, her face serene, and beautiful as always. The third looked like a shattered mirror standing in its frame with each fragment displaying a different location. The fourth and final painting was incomplete and they were supposed to drag a cheese grater across until the canvas was shredded and ruined. This particular part seemed an incredible waste to Thick, and felt as if their temporary boss had a grudge against the young artist. Neither of the two friends had wanted any details though, so neither had asked. Sometimes asking for more information than was necessary tempted their employer to pay them a little less for being nosy. The first three were in the shop itself on display on the walls. The last was in a small workshop behind the store front. Neither of the two had brought a cheese grater, so Nut went into the artist’s kitchen to look for one. In the meantime Thick went upstairs into the artist’s actual home and began drawing on their mark’s face. While not much of an artist himself, he had little trouble doodling a stick-pony half inside the mouth of Thick’s victim. As an afterthought, he even added a small speech bubble of it screaming for help. “I’m done, Thick!” Nut called up to him. “Let’s go!” Leaving the house was easy. Leaving the town without being noticed was a little more difficult, but still simple enough, if a bit time consuming as the pair occasionally had to take cover in an alleyway to avoid unwanted curious eyes. It wasn’t until they’d made it two miles outside of town that they made their first mistake: they relaxed, and that was when Nut Cracker tripped over a stone wedged between the planks of a small bridge they were crossing over and ultimately ended up going over the side, taking the paintings with him into the water. Needless to say, he was soaked, and the paintings were ruined. It was this little mishap that had turned their payment into a punishment, and Thick prayed beginning to fear that neither himself nor his friend were going to exit the large shed they hung suspended in alive. As the Gryphon raised a fisted talon once more to strike Thick, the rotting door to the old shed opened and their employer, a well-dressed and expressionless Unicorn stepped in, skirting a few drops of blood on the floor. “That’s enough.” He said, sounding bored. “Throw some ice water on the two of them, and let them go.” “Sir?” The Gryphon said, sounding a bit disappointed. “I thought you wanted me to make an example of them to your other employees.” “A living example ensures both the punished as well as unpunished to be more cautious with their assignments. The only thing a dead example inspires in others is the sudden urge to report my…business ventures to the authorities. Paying off the town’s patrol ponies can grow to be quite expensive, and I’d rather avoid that if I can.” The Unicorn stepped closer to Thick and Nut, his face going from blank to a sneer. Speaking with false concern, he continued, addressing Thick and Nut directly. “I’m told that water can be quite unsafe for Earth Ponies. I suggest you try finding work in a drier climate.” As the Unicorn left the shed Thick and Nut were lowered uncaringly from their position in midair to the floor marked by an audible thud. Their chains were removed, and, as the Unicorn had instructed, the pair of ponies were splashed with well water chilled by the after-midnight air. Finally, their abuser left them to their pain, and one another’s company. __ __ __ __ __ Nut Cracker was, and as far as I’m concerned always will be my best and most reliable friend. Well, most reliable stallion friend. He was loyal, strong, and smart, though as I’m sure you’ve guessed from the part with the harlot he tended to think with something other than his brain when attractive females were around. Anyway, after that day Nut Cracker and I parted ways and he left the burglary business for good, but I don’t hold it against him. Thievery isn’t always an easy job, and sometimes, as with the story I just told you, it can be hazardous to your good health!
Intro: I'm NOT under arrest?Well Colt, you caught me, so I suppose courtesy and congratulations are in order; Hi. I’m Thick. No, I don’t mean that I’m fat! (Though I've certainly gained a few pounds since my retirement...)That’s my name: Thick H. Boner. Recognize my name now? No??? Seriously? Hmph, whatever. I suppose it doesn’t really matter. After all, what I’m known for isn’t the nicest of things, and what those things were that I caused to occur happened years ago. Frankly I’m surprised that even Celestia knew I was still alive and sent you. But do you know what surprises me even more? The fact that you actually found and cornered me, and yet don't even know who I am. Seeing me as I am now- old and feeble and with my once gold-colored mane now grey, scraggly and falling out- and to hear me say that I used to be nearly a master of infiltration for theivery, but one good look at my Cutie Mark would likely remove all doubt in your mind. Hold on, let me stand up and turn so you can see it...there we go: a pony-ghost slipping through the bars of a cage! They called me that, too, for awhile: Phantom Thief. I would work my way inside my Mark's house or business or a museum, disable any security spells and avoid the living security, grab what I'd come for, and then get out. In and out, in and out. Smooth entrance, and soft exit almost every time. There were occasions, of course, when I was met with resistance, but sooner or later I'd gain entrance, work my target hard for my trouble, and then leave. Usually while wearing a smile and aglow with satisfaction. Traps had been set for me on occasion, and due to my cocky self I'd very nearly fell into them many times, too! But, as long as I had miss Riot backing me up we could easily double-team any- Ahh! I see a look of recognition in your eyes there; I hear her grandfoals are making quite a stir in the world these days. Yes, miss Running Riot was a real firecracker of a mare, and I am honored to have called her my partner in crime. Well, until she dropped out of the robbing business and went straight, that is. After she left things were never quite the same again, and it was only a few years later I put myself out to pasture. But that's not why your here, is it; to hear about infamy lost, and 'ol Thicky-B gone soft? Hmm? What's that? You're not here to arrest me? Then why- Ah, I see now, you've got a quill and notepad. So, you're writing a book and are looking for someone with first-hand experience? Alright, fine. But I don't want you using my actual name. It's not a common one, and if I'm still on record I don't want a police-pony kicking my door in sometime down the road. So then, what would you like to hear about first?
No Infamous Thief Starts Out That WayClip clop! Clip clop! softly tapped a set of hoofs as the body they were attached to slowly (and not as quietly as he would have liked) but surely made its way across the cobblestone road of Manehatten to the darkened on the other side. The gate was well-cared for and not the least bit rusty, though really there was no reason for it to be due to it not being made of iron or steel. It was instead made from copper, and due to it being polished once a week there was not a single spot of green on it even though the gate and the fence it was attached to were well over fifty years old. Thankfully it had not rained recently and both the hinges and the latch had been recently greased. There was a lock in the latch, but it was a simple one, and in a few short seconds it clicked open and was carefully lowered and placed on the ground next to the fence where he would not trip over it on his way back out from the house. The house’ owner was currently away in Fillydelphia attending an aunt’s funeral, and according to the thief’s information, was not due to be back for at least another week due to there being an argument as to whom was to inherit what. It was specifically for that reason that this house was his target: he simply despised those that had been hoofed everything they’d ever wanted while growing up. He’d not once robbed someone that could not recover from the loss (except for those four times he’d robbed graves, but since nothing short of a demonic ritual would help them recover anything and the dead had no need for the five hundred bits’ worth of jewelry on them he’d had no moral conflictions with it. Lifting the latch and pushing it slowly inward, young Thick stuck his head inside and looked around, turning his ears as he did in search for guards. Nothing. He smiled a little, and then let the rest of his body in and shut the gate behind him. Anypony passing by would probably not notice the lock was missing, and if they did, so what? The house would be locked as well, and all the windows were barred. What chance would any everyday Pony have of getting inside? Good thing I’m not an ordinary Pony! He chuckled as he trotted around the house to the back. He’d scoped the place out a few days before by disguising himself as a servant. Most of the snobbish Ponies paid little to no attention to their servants unless they were looking for a cheap ride, but thankfully, the mare who lived in this house was more into other mares rather than stallions. Though the windows in the front were barred and so were the windows in the back, one in particular was normally left unlocked so that the owner could let out her birds once in a while. The birds were an energetic bunch, so she always had to make sure she held the cage outside before opening the little door and setting them loose. This was where he’d try to get in. Dodging a decaying garden hose reel, Thick gave the yard another survey and then walked to the possible entrance. Rearing up on his hind legs and standing on a sculpture of a Pegasus, Thick powered up his horn a little and began fiddling with the lock on the inside. As soon as the nob turned he nodded to himself and then tried the bars. Sure enough, it swung open, but unlike the gate , these hinges squeaked a bit. Freezing in place for a few seconds, Thick sighed and rolled his eyes. That little squeak wouldn’t have woke even a Diamond Dog. Leaning back, he swung the bars all the way out, lifted the window with telekinesis, and then hauled himself inside. As usual the shinies were locked up in a small safe embedded in the floor, and as usual it was a simple number lock with only three numbers. Rather than try his hoof at tempting Filly Luck, he instead whistled a merry tune and pushed the bed out of the way and then yanked the entire safe out of the floor. It made a horrible racket, but if the hoof cuffs attached to the bed frame and the cloth attached to the bottom of the door was any indication, the room had been sound-proofed. Flipping the safe over in his telekinetic field, he again rolled his eyes. It was cheap lock, and a cheaper safe. The bottom of it was made of wood painted black, and after a brief scan with his magic he detected a very thin layer of metal covering the inside. The wood on the bottom was attached via screws, so with a cheap magic trick he spun the four screws (one in each corner) and separated the wood from the thin plate. They probably bought this from some tourist store. He frowned. I don’t get how this richlets will spend thousands of bits on one dress, which they don’t even need, and yet they don’t invest in a reliable safe! Oh well, he shrugged. Just makes it easier for me, I guess. Coming up to the gate once more, this time with the intent of going out and the saddlebags he’s come in with now full of loot of several types, Thick once more swung the gate inward, only to freeze. The Lady of the house was home! Now! Thick stopped breathing, his head slightly dipped. The Lady stopped briefly and looked at him, then kept on walking as if she’d expected him to be there all along. Holding his breath until he suspected he might be turning blue, Thick watched her go up into the house followed by another two servants who opened the door, nodded to him, and then followed the Lady inside. Exhaling his held breath and quickly breathing in more, Thick continued off the Lady’s property and began heading down the street. A few seconds later he smirked a little as a scream burst out from the window he’d left open. I think I’ll buy a Dandelion Delight tonight!
It's better to work for yourself!It’s better to work for yourself! Thick grunted again as he was struck in the face with a clutched Gryphon talon. Spittle flew from his lips and his body swayed back and forth on the chains he hung from. His best friend and partner in crime for the last two years, Nut Cracker (an Earth pony), hung bloody, bruised, and unconscious next to him, his breathing shallow. This latest job was supposed to be simple: break into a popular young artist’s home, steal his latest works, and meet their employer on the outskirts of town. The artist had been taken care of by hiring a cute hooker to distract him, and with a little extra incentive she’d dropped a sleeping powder into his drink. As soon as he’d dozed off she emptied his wallet and unlocked the door, letting the two of them in. As she left she turned her head back at the pair and blew Cracker a kiss, who smiled and trailed his eyes over her plot (only to be jabbed in the side by Thick). Once inside the shop the two took out the black and white photographs of the medium-sized paintings they were looking for and then split up. Though the photos were black and white, each of the art pieces had a different design which made it easy to identify them. One was of a one-winged Gryphon that stood atop a mountain peak on its hind legs gazing down at the lands below it, its front legs crossed. A second depicted princess Celestia holding a small sun and a small moon on the frog of each hoof with their little world floating in front of her, her face serene, and beautiful as always. The third looked like a shattered mirror standing in its frame with each fragment displaying a different location. The fourth and final painting was incomplete and they were supposed to drag a cheese grater across until the canvas was shredded and ruined. This particular part seemed an incredible waste to Thick, and felt as if their temporary boss had a grudge against the young artist. Neither of the two friends had wanted any details though, so neither had asked. Sometimes asking for more information than was necessary tempted their employer to pay them a little less for being nosy. The first three were in the shop itself on display on the walls. The last was in a small workshop behind the store front. Neither of the two had brought a cheese grater, so Nut went into the artist’s kitchen to look for one. In the meantime Thick went upstairs into the artist’s actual home and began drawing on their mark’s face. While not much of an artist himself, he had little trouble doodling a stick-pony half inside the mouth of Thick’s victim. As an afterthought, he even added a small speech bubble of it screaming for help. “I’m done, Thick!” Nut called up to him. “Let’s go!” Leaving the house was easy. Leaving the town without being noticed was a little more difficult, but still simple enough, if a bit time consuming as the pair occasionally had to take cover in an alleyway to avoid unwanted curious eyes. It wasn’t until they’d made it two miles outside of town that they made their first mistake: they relaxed, and that was when Nut Cracker tripped over a stone wedged between the planks of a small bridge they were crossing over and ultimately ended up going over the side, taking the paintings with him into the water. Needless to say, he was soaked, and the paintings were ruined. It was this little mishap that had turned their payment into a punishment, and Thick prayed beginning to fear that neither himself nor his friend were going to exit the large shed they hung suspended in alive. As the Gryphon raised a fisted talon once more to strike Thick, the rotting door to the old shed opened and their employer, a well-dressed and expressionless Unicorn stepped in, skirting a few drops of blood on the floor. “That’s enough.” He said, sounding bored. “Throw some ice water on the two of them, and let them go.” “Sir?” The Gryphon said, sounding a bit disappointed. “I thought you wanted me to make an example of them to your other employees.” “A living example ensures both the punished as well as unpunished to be more cautious with their assignments. The only thing a dead example inspires in others is the sudden urge to report my…business ventures to the authorities. Paying off the town’s patrol ponies can grow to be quite expensive, and I’d rather avoid that if I can.” The Unicorn stepped closer to Thick and Nut, his face going from blank to a sneer. Speaking with false concern, he continued, addressing Thick and Nut directly. “I’m told that water can be quite unsafe for Earth Ponies. I suggest you try finding work in a drier climate.” As the Unicorn left the shed Thick and Nut were lowered uncaringly from their position in midair to the floor marked by an audible thud. Their chains were removed, and, as the Unicorn had instructed, the pair of ponies were splashed with well water chilled by the after-midnight air. Finally, their abuser left them to their pain, and one another’s company. __ __ __ __ __ Nut Cracker was, and as far as I’m concerned always will be my best and most reliable friend. Well, most reliable stallion friend. He was loyal, strong, and smart, though as I’m sure you’ve guessed from the part with the harlot he tended to think with something other than his brain when attractive females were around. Anyway, after that day Nut Cracker and I parted ways and he left the burglary business for good, but I don’t hold it against him. Thievery isn’t always an easy job, and sometimes, as with the story I just told you, it can be hazardous to your good health!
