A Potato Rolling into the Darkness. 1
"Gloom, we can't do this."
"We can, and we have to Gleam. Now get on the roof while I go in," I shut my twin up in an instant.
"We're better than this. We don't have to steal." My light-green deadweight doesn't understand.
"We're out of money and nobody is hiring a couple of bums off the street, orphans or not. Now we both agreed to this so I don't want you getting cold feet. We're just grabbing some food while they're out and leaving; there's no shame in that."
"What if we're caught?"
"You mean what if I'm caught. You'll be across the street on the roof playing look-out. Even if things go bad, which they won't if you do your job, I'll be the only one punished." I wish I had just told him to stay back at our box, but I need a lookout to make sure this goes as planned.
"I still don't like it. We sh-"
"Damnit Gleam, you think I like it?" I nearly yell my frustration at him. I would if our target's owners weren't still home. "I hate the very thought of this and a few months ago I never would've thought of this. But this isn't last spring when mom and dad were alive, and I don't need to think twice about this. We've been swindled from our inheritance and life and I'll be damned if I don't at least try." I notice the homeowners exit from their front door, purses in hand and dressed to go out. "Now fly on that roof and if they get back before I get out give me the signal."
"Alright, just... Be quick about it. The longer you're there is the more likely we'll be caught,” He sighs and flies on top of the small general store.
The nicest things about living in a town as small is ponyville, nopony owns a car so it'll take them longer to get to and from the restaurant, nopony is usually out this late at night and home security systems are few and far between. The worst things, everypony knows we're beggars, word gets around fast and nopony can really afford to take pity on us even after we were orphaned.
Our lawyer was able to rob us blind so we lost the inheritance we were living on along with our home and livelihood. It turned worse once our pocket change ran out and we turned to dumpster diving and begging. Of course after you've been given a few coins and taken a few plates of food, ponies stop taking pity on you and see more of a mooch than anything. So I decided to take some initiative. If the world wants to kick me while I'm down, I might as well spit my blood on its boots.
I try not to let the venom of my thoughts poison my mind for the moment though. Right now I need to focus on stealing our food for the next week.
As soon as our marks are sufficiently out of sight, I glide across the unlit street as fast as possible into their front yard. I pull my makeshift face mask over my head and crouch down for safety's sake. My black fur blends to the deep 7 p.m. shadows and I waste no time hopping the fence into their backyard. I take advantage of the high fences and stand back up; not to mention walking like that hurts my back. I narrowly avoid falling in their pool in the dark and make way onto the patio. These two after definitely better off than most ponies in this town. I grab the handle to the back door of the simple bungalow.
"Motherfucker, it's locked," I curse my half-baked idea. What kind of thief doesn't know or even think about how to pick a lock? "It's no problem; I've just got to improvise a little."
One of the advantages of being a unicorn is that you're never truly out of options, especially when you're an adaptive type like me. We carry the most diverse and compact array of tools on our heads, so long as we have the magic capacity to use them. Being an adaptive type simply means that any spell or substance I physically encounter becomes slowly, but surely engraved into both my horn and my body. It makes spell learning easier in some ways than your usual 'study an incantation till your horn remembers it' unicorn -save for that it's nowhere near as safe- but I've taken advantage of it as much as possible.
As such, I have a fairly nice grasp on fire and heat spells even though a few of them are borderline illegal to use. Regardless of the penalties, I start forcing the smaller particles of magic within my horn to something of a 'boil' as my horn changes from a cool black to a hot orange. I'll just have to do this the hard way.
I can feel the weak bronze doorknob melt away as soon as my horn makes contact with it and I keep pushing against it. If it wasn't for the fact that you can't warm yourself with you own spells, I'd be melting my own horn and skull right now. After a couple minutes of weakening the lock's hold on the door, I merely push the door open and a puddle of molten metal lies at my hooves. It won't be a clueless crime, but I don't think the homeowners will notice it tonight.
Considering that time is of the essence, I quickly start moving to the front of the house where I assume the kitchen is. Even though I know nopony is home I try to move as quietly and as quickly as possible on the hardwood floor and right into the kitchen.
The moment I enter the modern kitchen I notice the box of garbage bags by the trash can and pull one out. My plan didn't include me bring a bag to hold stuff in, but it's only my first theft so there's bound to be a few kinks to work out.
I scarcely have time or concentration to take note of my surrounds. By the time I know what I've done the bag is half filled with fruits, canned goods and bread and I'm sitting on the center island with my mask off and my long mane resting on my shoulders.
"So far so good." I smile and pat myself on the back for a brief moment. "All I have to do is walk back out and run the fuck away from this place. If I had known it would be this easy, I'd have done it sooner."
"Most of the time theft isn't this easy." I nearly jump out of my skin as I feel something clamp onto my neck and my blood break free from its vascular prison.
"What the fuck!" I feel my flesh rip apart as I pull forward and away from... whatever the hell just did that. Thankfully I’m able to lean against the countertop before the pain makes me ready to topple.
I plant my right hand onto my wound for an instant, but recoil when I feel the cold blood mat my fur. Shit, I need to get out of here and bandage this. I turn and look up at my assailant.
"You're fucking with me.” I manage to grumble as I stare at the mint coloured mare on the other side of the island. "How can you be back already?"
"I forgot my wallet." The harp player smiles and two fangs are prominently displayed with my blood. "And please, call me Lyra."
"That doesn't... make any sense; Gleam should've... warned me." I can feel my mind slipping with the pain, but it doesn't feel like blood loss. It's almost like I'm... numbing. My body feels fluid but my mind can't... Potato? No, I think I mean keep up, but potato makes more sense.
"I'm pretty sure your brother is playing with Bonbon right now. In truth, I'm surprised." I can hear what I think is almost satisfaction in her voice.
"Why? That the orphaned Light twins tried to rob you for some food. That can hardly be something you didn't expect us to do. We're seventeen year-old beggars, becoming thieves was only a matter of time."
"No, I knew you two would do something like this eventually; I'm more surprised that you've managed to remain coherent this long."
"And why is that?" I notice a knife rack behind me out of the corner of my eye. 'Chocolate chip cookies should be gooey.' Wait, what was that?
"I just injected a small dose of a potent neurotoxin into your jugular vein. Usually the patient would be foaming at the mouth at this point. The fact that you're not being completely illogical is what I enjoy." 'I like bicycles.' Damn it, shut up. I try to keep thinking as I casually slide my bloodied hand toward the knives.
"Well then, I guess I don't have time to play around." I smirk before trying to grab a knife.
"Fuck." I mutter what at this point is probably my favorite word as I feel a soft warm hand wrap around my wrist and stare into the bright eyes of the mare holding me down.
"Don't test me boy. I'd rather not have to kill you if I don't need to." Her fury is palpable to me even in my delirious state so I release the knife as the final bits of my mind slip into obscurity. "Now, get some sleep. I have work to do." 'Why don't they have pop-tart cereals, or Cheerio pop-tarts?
Author's Note
First chapter of the first fic I've been confident enough to post. I don't even know why I'm posting except that I want to prove that what I write is bad. That is unless its good, I'm fine with that outcome. Also every chapter name and possibly chapter itself will have the word potato in it simply because I feel people don't eat enough potatoes.
