Chapter 1 (Undergoing Rewrite)
"I'm sorry Mr. Jowl, but we don't accept ill-dressed, and ill-mannered ruffians to work for Fancy's Pantaloons. Especially dirty wolf theives such as your self." Said Fancy Pants.
"What? This is bullshit! I've never stolen a thing in my life! I can't pay my rent without this job! Please Mr. Pants, I need this, I haven't eaten in days!" Crick pleaded.
"Unfortunately my policies strictly prohibit cursing in my stores, now get out you wolven buffoon!" Fancy yelled.
"Ugh, fine, whatever." Crick got up from his seat, and promptly walked out of the lavish office he was currently in, while yelling out various profanities at and about Fancy Pants. This was the seventh job he'd been turned down from for being a wolf. He hasn't been able to pay rent since he got the apartment a couple months back. The rent wasn't expensive, he just didn't have the money to pay it. He only has a few bits left for food and has been fasting for days.
As you can probably tell, things haven't been so good lately. They haven't been good since Crick first immigrated here. There was nothing he could do. He couldn't move back to Broken Paw, the whole civil war thing going on in Wolvania would get him killed for sure. Well, that and he couldn't afford it.
It was a sunny day outside. It made the walk back a little better. Carriages were hustling this way and that, going to where ever they were needed on the bustling street of Canterlot. There were tons of ponies walking as well. Crick passed by a couple of constables and waved. The constables only gave a shifty look, and put their hands on their revolvers. Crick looked down, stuffed his hands in the pockets of his well worn coat, and slouched. He continued his way home without looking at anypony else. He'd gotten used to the blatant racism against wolves, but it still hurt. He guessed the wolves that grow up in Equestria have a fairly bad reputation when he first moved, but no the reason was really that wolves were considered related to those savages in the Everfree Forest. The so called timber 'wolves' were actually more related to dogs than wolves. It's the same between ponies and horses in Wolvani. Horses are more similar to cows than ponies, or so he had explained to him, rather forcefully, by Brick when he had used it in casual conversation during the leasing process.
______
A half an hour and several blocks later found Crick near his home. He looked up at the sign hanging over the street. 'Brick's'. That was the name of the apartment building he lived in. The name wasn't much but it didn't need to be. It was a fairly well known apartment building in the poorer part of the city.
He looked around, and the scene had changed a lot, only a handful of ponies were on the side walk, and the road was pretty desolate, then again no one who could afford a carriage would want to be around here. Most likely, they'd be stopped and pulled out of it by the Sharp Edges. That's the name of the local street gang. The egotistical asshole who runs the gang named it after himself self. No one has actually seen him and lived to tell it. Rumor has it, that one pony found out where he lived one day, the next his corpse was found limb-less and with the place all his organs where supposed to be, hollowed out. After that spread around, no one dared ask where he lived, or go snooping in places the shouldn't be.
Crick looked across the street. It looked like a stallion had the balls to put up a stall on the sidewalk in front of an empty lot. The stallion saw him looking.
"Excuse me, sir! Would you perhaps be interested in one of Madam Trixie's fine elixirs and tonics?" The stallion asked. He had a well groomed moustache, which was blue. His coat was white, Crick couldn't see his mane, because of the top hat the stallion was wearing, but because of the 'stache he assumed it was blue. He had very thick spectacles and dark grey eyes. He also wore a fine suit that had been cleaned well. He was over all very short and chubby. He looked out of place.
Crick noticed some movement behind the stall, it was a few of the Sharp Edges. This is exactly what he thought would happen. The stallion must not have known that no one could have a stall in Sharp territory without their consent and paying the fee. That was why few people have stalls around here. It was also why a lot of people were poor, they were forced to shop at stores with a higher price range. Crick was dragged out of though as one of the taller Sharps hit the Stallion over the head with a lead pipe. The two others grabbed him by the waist and pulled him off the stall and on to the ground, and started to beat the stallion mercilessly, while the bigger one smashed the stall and took all of his goods, colorful vials, filled with strange liquids.
Crick did nothing but put his head down and walk into the apartment building. That was all he could do. He didn't have a death wish, so it's not like he'd intervene. He heard loud yelling, probably the Sharps, and then girlish screaming. After a couple of minutes standing behind the closed door, the screaming and yelling stopped.
Crick looked around the lobby. It was worn down and beat up. There was a couple of couches that multiple holes in them with springs and fluff sticking out. They were on top of a dirty, stained carpet. The walls had an ugly wall paper and a few holes in them. The whole place just screamed 'poor' and 'unkempt'. There were a few candles on the main desk, where Brick, the landlord, was leaning on, reading the book in his hands. Brick was a tall, broad shouldered, clay colored pony. His mane and tail were a grayish white. He kinda looked like the pony form of a brick wall. Brick looked up from his book and saw Crick.
"Hey, Brick. I wasn't able to get the job. Anyways I'm gonna ne-" Crick was interrupted be for he could finish.
Brick pulled out a small box, and said, "This is all the stuff I could find in your room. I'm gonna need you to leave the property as soon as possible."
Crick looked at him with his jaw wide open, and his face slowly contorted to a very sad one. He started speaking in a panicked tone. "W-what, why? Th-the month isn't over yet, you said you'd give me till the end of the month to pay you." He was about to start crying.
"I know, but at this rate, even with the three weeks left, you won't be able to pay me." Crick let his tears loose without making a sound, letting the landlord continue. "I'm sorry Crick, but I've given you months to get the money, but now I've got to get rid of you. Your presence is costing me more money then it makes."
Crick just took the box off the table and started to make his way back out the door. He stopped to look back at the sorry landlord. "Well I guess that's it then, goodbye, Brick." And with that, he left, not belonging there anymore. Crick stopped after taking a few steps to the right. He'd realized that he won't have a warm place to sleep tonight. He fell to his knees. He'd realized that he won't have clean water to drink when he was thirsty. Tears flowed from his eyes, and started he sniffling loudly. He started shaking, and leaned on the wall next to him. He'd realized that what ever chance he had at getting a job was now gone. And he cried, softly into his arm. He cried because every hope he had of making it in this world was gone, he cried because he'd failed a promise to his family, to make a name for himself, and he cried because he wouldn't have much time to live before he died some homeless wolf in an alley that no one would care about.
"Istenem segíts!" He cried in his native tongue. "Miért nem valami jó történik meg velem?" And with that he continued to cry his heart out, in utter defeat.
Then a few minutes later, he had an epiphany.
He stood up. He wiped the tears from his face, having come to grips with his fate. While he was crying a new thought came to mind. He'd already failed at making it big through hard work and eventual escalation to a millionaire, but there was another way. He was gonna steal. His name would become renown as the greatest thief to ever live. Hell, the ponies had already condemned him as one before his first interview at Pony Joe's.
He checked his surroundings. It seemed the sun was going down and the moon was coming out. There were no more ponies on the sidewalks, and somepony had already come thorough and lit the lanterns. He looked across the street and saw his first target, the stall from earlier. The stallion was no where to be seen, though his blood had definitely stained the ground. Crick walked over to the stall, checking to see if the Sharps were still around. The coast was clear. He went behind the stall, hoping the sharps had left behind at least something worth while, only to real back and immediately want to vomit. The stallion was still there, alright. They didn't beat him unconscious and drag him away for further torture. They smashed his head. Blood and brain matter was everywhere, his glasses had been broken and shoved into his muzzle, which was bent to the left at about a forty-five degree angle. His chest had caved inward, and he wasn't breathing. Crick felt sorry for the poor fucker. He didn't deserve this. He was just trying to make a living. Well, it's a little ironic isn't it? What was supposed to earn the stallion a living, earned him quite the opposite.
Crick slowly crouched down, set down the box, and with a very wobbly hand he checked the stallions over coat. He thoroughly made sure he found everything he could. He knew this was extremely dishonorable, but thievery isn't a very honorable profession. Luckily it seemed the Sharps hadn't checked the stallions pockets. He looked down and saw that his bit purse was still there. He selfishly grabbed it, and checked to see how many bits were there. There were too many to count in the short amount of time he looked, but it was at least fifty.
Crick heard some boots and jangling behind him, so he grabbed his box. He quickly turned around and stood up, only to see the same constables from earlier looking at him with disgusted looks.
"Look guys, it's not what it looks like, I swear!" Crick said in a nervous tone. He was hoping they hadn't come to the conclusion he thought they had.
"Sir, your under arrest, come quietly and we won't be so rough." The first constable said. Now that Crick had a better look at him, he had a bushy dark brown moustache with a light red coat. The second constable had no facial hair so he couldn't tell what his mane color was, but he could see his creme yellow coat, he was a unicorn, while the other was an earth pony. They were both wearing the normal constable uniform.
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Crick thought about it, the greatest thief in the world wouldn't get arrested on their first theft, and hes definitely not gonna spending the rest of his days in the Canterlot Correctional Facilitary, on the chain gang. He couldn't attack, because he wasn't armed, but they didn't have their hands anywhere near their revolvers, so maybe, just maybe, he could make a run for it. The building to the right of him had its far corner not forty feet away. He decided that was the plan.
Crick turned on his heels, and bolted as fast as he ever had in his life, gripping his loot as hard as he could. He was ten feet away from the corner when he heard a gunshot, and saw the coin purse he'd most recently acquired get torn apart, spilling all of the riches he'd earned into the ground. 'Holy shit! He's a crackshot!' He thought in panic, as he rounded the corner and saw the other end of the alleyway. It was clear, nothing was in his way, and the alley was wide enough that a shot fired down there wouldn't only have him to hit. His lungs were already burning, and his legs were so tired from all the movement they've had today. When he reached the end of that alley he turned right down another He was sure they'd not reached the first corner yet, but he decided that he was gonna keep running down the next few alleys in a random path just to be sure he got away.
After another several minutes of running, he was finally safe. So he walked down one last alley, and saw a secluded, empty lot. There were about five buildings surrounding it. No doors led into the lot, and the the alleys all led to a rather small road, so this wasn't a very popular place. It was nice and secluded. Around the the outer perimeter of the lot was multiple large pieces of scrap wood. Likely discarded during the construction of the buildings.
Crick decided that this was a suitable location to lay low, so he grabbed some of the discarded wood and built a small shelter against the wall. It was more just a large piece of wood, leaning on a wall, with a few pieces underneath to keep him from losing all his heat into the cold, hard, unforgiving ground. When he was finished, he looked at his new home, and suddenly his exhaustion caught up with him. He got under the make shift roof, layed down in his make shift bed. Though it wasn't very comfortable, he was content. Before he fell all the way asleep, he had one thought on his mind, 'Though it isn't Canterlot Palace, it's definitely my new home.' And with that night he slept a dreamless, but restful sleep.
______
Crick awoke to the sounds of distant music. From what he heard it was mostly brass instruments. Confused, he got up, and tried to listen to where the music was coming from. It seemed to be coming from the northwest. That was where all the high end shops were. Crick decided that he should check it out. Mostly because he had nothing better to do. He started to head towards the music, but he realized he never checked what was in the box that Brick had given him. You would think he knows what he owned in his apartment, but he kept whatever he had on him considering he didn't have much but the clothes on his back.
He opened the box to see a dagger. The dagger was nothing special, It looked like a short, and thin gladius. The length of the blade, without the measurement of the handle, looked to be seven inches, with the handle it was about twelve. Underneath the dagger was a note. Crick took the dagger and slid it up his coat sleeve, and read the note.
Crick,
I'm giving this dagger to you so you can keep yourself safe. I spent a good hundred bits on this for you. Stay safe.
- Brick
Crick looked at his coat arm. 'This will surely come in handy, thanks Brick.' Crick thought to himself as he threw the box somewhere to the right of him. There was a deep, echoed thump from the box hitting the ground. He crumpled the note and let it drop to the ground. There was no wind, so the crumpled piece of paper stayed still once it'd reached the ground. He decided to finally go check out the music with that out of the way.
On the way there, Crick was being sure to carefully remember what street his new home was at. 'Manehatten St.' was what the sign said. Once he read the sign, he repeated the name in his head three times, hoping that'd be enough to remember it later. After he did that, he checked his surroundings. There was another handful of ponies heading in the same direction as he. This road had no room for carriages. It was entirely meant for pedestrians. The houses were all old and rickety, it looked as if a strong thunderstorm could tear them apart. The bricks were all chipped and cracked. The windows were broken, and boarded up.
Crick walked by what looked to be a shop. Well, used to be a shop. The large windows that had been used to show goods to the ponies who walked by, had been smashed open, and the interior seemed to be burned down. though there was an obvious space where a pony must have been lying. It seemed whoever owned this store had refused to pay for 'protection'. Crick just shook his head and continued walking. This neighborhood wasn't a great sight to start off the day, but days that start off terrible, get better at the end right?
The walk was very solitary, the only noise to be heard was the ever-growing sound of music. It only took a few minutes to get to main street. He looked up at the sign. 'Princess Way' It supposedly got its name for the fact that it went straight to Celestia's Palace. There were thousands of ponies crowded on the sidewalk. The actual road had been fenced off. There was violet confetti everywhere. The music continued to grow. He looked to the right, down the street. It was a parade. For what exactly? He didn't know, but he did see the Princesses standing on a carriage, but there was one he didn't recognize at first. She was much shorter than the other princesses at only an average height. Her appearance seemed familiar. 'Of course! How did I not see that, that's Twilight Sparkle. I thought she was only a unicorn though. And where are her friends, the other elements?' He looked behind the Princesses' carriage and saw Twilight's friends in another carriage behind the first. All five of them were there.
Crick looked at the carriages. The princesses looked to be showing off twilight. Perhaps it had something to do with twilight being an alicorn now. Her friends in the carriage behind her seemed to be happy. The blue one, what was her name? Rainbow pie? God pony names are wierd. It doesn't matter, she definitely didn't want to be there. She looked so unamused, that whoever looked at her stopped cheering for a bit, and were suddenly bored too. Then, they were suddenly happy again. Its so strange how these ponies behave in large groups. Then again, the only time in Wolvania there is a big crowd is when they were preparing for a war.
Crick still had bo clue as to what he was witnessing. It was a curious sight. Why were they there? Maybe ponies have parades for no reason all the time. He figured it was time to get some answers.
Crick tapped the shoulder of somepony to ask what was going on. "Excuse me sir, could you tell me what exactly is going on?"
The stallion turned around. He was a rather snooty looking pony, he had a silver mane with a golden coat, he also looked to be at the same height as Crick, so, about average. The outfit he chose to wear told you he was a business pony, that and his better than you smirk plastered on his face, or maybe that was just because Crick was a wolf. "It's Princess Twilights Parade, celebrating her coronation. Of course, I wouldn't expect a dumb wolf to understand what that means."
Crick ignored the last part and reveled in what he was witnessing first hand, the coronation of an alicorn. This doesn't happen, ever. He smiled a huge toothy grin. Perhaps, this was just a suggestion, but perhaps he could become the world's greatest thief by stealing Twilight's crown. No, that's silly. Any old thief could steal Twilight's crown, no he had to look higher, and strive better. That's it! Crick was going to steal The Elements of Harmony. It would take months of practice and a lot of dedication, but he would do it. And when he did, he'd be the greatest thief the world has ever seen, in the history of all life.
And so Crick began walking home, planning for the heist. Thinking carefully on every step he was going to take to reach this goal.
