For the better or the worse

by MATP

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life, Thunderlane, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 2723

What would you do to be known?

A Wonderbolts reserve, tired of staying in the shadows, finds an alternative way to make himself known

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This story has been withdrawn and rewritten entirely with the help of a proofreader, TheAncientPolitzanian.

The original story was a contender for “The new blood” contest
https://www.fimfiction.net/group/215333/beans-writing-group; if you'd like to read it, here's the link to a Google document:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/156gBqLis73RFl9F9JT5l1YH6THpX624448uCxeLLRso/edit

Published 2023-08-04 19:10:00 UTC
Last updated 2023-08-04 19:10:00 UTC

For the better or the worse

The Ponyville courthouse, like the entire town, could be described in one word: ancient. The structure was entirely made of wood, as was the judge's bench, the defendant and prosecution tables, and the few benches for those who wanted to attend public hearings. The benches were obviously full,after all, a courtroom hearing in Ponyville was quite unusual, and its inhabitants were not known for their discretion. The defendant's lawyer sat with his head resting on the table, hooves over his eyes, whispering something desperately to his client, a black-coated pegasus with a satisfied smile on his face, who kept glancing back at the stands filled with spectators. On the sides of the benches were numerous windows embedded in the walls that allowed the sunlight to filter into the courtroom. The light reflected on a plaque which read "The law is equal for all” located above the judge, an old, brownish earth pony, who seemed to be waiting only for the moment to retire.

The judge's gavel thundered inside the courtroom, silencing the chatter of those present. "Good morning, everypony," he began. "We are here today in the Ponyville courthouse to examine the charge of theft from the injured party, Vinyl Scratch, against the accused, Thunderlane."

"How does the defendant plead?" he asked in a routine manner, looking annoyed at the smug smile of the criminal.

"Your Honor," the defendant began, standing up, "I plead guilty."

The judge's eyes widened in astonishment. "Y-you plead guilty? Ahem," he cleared his throat, becoming more serious. "Well, this makes everything simpler. Are you fully aware of the consequences of your choice?"

Thunderlane turned to look at everyone present in the courtroom, making sure that all eyes were indeed on him. "Yes," he replied, "yes, I am."

Near the tree serving as Ponyville’s town library, there rested a charming little bar that promised its customers respite from the heat of the early morning sun rays. The bar's original owner bragged of being one of the pioneers who built the town, and thus the interior’s white walls were adorned with photographs and artwork related to the history of Ponyville and its founders. The establishment wasn't very spacious; the long bar occupied most of the floor, leaving room for only four tables. Fortunately, the bar also had a few outdoor tables shaded by umbrellas, which were put away in storage when pegasi predicted a cloudy day.

Thunderlane was familiar with those pictures and those umbrellas. Every morning, he would enter that same bar, sit at a table in front of the entrance, take out the local newspaper bought at a nearby kiosk, and immerse himself in the search for the same news.

Thunderlane completely skipped the sports section, as it was always dominated by the Wonderbolts. Once, he bought the newspaper just for that, to learn the latest news about his idols, later to check for his name among the team members, but he had always to settle for a mention among the reserves. However, for the past couple of months, he’d bought the newspaper to look for a name. He found it easily on the second page of the newspaper, written in large letters: "Wonderghost strikes again," he whispered while looking at the headline, accompanied by a picture of an anonymous figure with a question mark above them, and his lips formed a relieved smile.

"Again!?" a female voice said behind him. "That’s the fifth time in two months!"

Thunderlane turned around and saw a beige mare with a curly pink and blue mane, a scornful look on her face.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop. My name is Bon Bon, by the way," she introduced herself with a soft voice, realizing the awkward situation.

"I’m Thunderlane," he replied, gazing into Bon Bon's eyes in a vain search for a glint of recognition. Then, with a sigh more resigned than frustrated, he lowered his gaze back to the newspaper. "Here it says that last night he robbed Quills and Sofas. He must be pretty skilled not to have been caught yet."

"I don’t care at all!" Bon Bon thundered, capturing everypony's attention, including a surprised Thunderlane.

"I don't care as long as he doesn't rob my shop. Quills and Sofas is next to my candy store. If this continues, one of these days I'll arrive at work and find nothing left! And who does he think he is, leaving those notes with his name to taunt us?" Bon Bon stomped her hoof on the floor. "If I find out who this Mr. Nobody is, Celestia knows what I'll do to him!"

As she finished speaking, they heard a shout from one of the outdoor tables. "Bon Bon, come here, the coffee is cooling down! Who are you talking to, anyway?"

"With no one, Lyra, I’ll be right there!" Bon Bon stormed out, muttering something that sounded like "have a nice day," leaving behind a bewildered Thunderlane. His eyes remained fixed on the faceless image in the newspaper.

"Mr. Nobody..." Thunderlane muttered. "Mr. Nobody?!" he repeated a little more forcefully before rushing outside.

“Who does she think she is?” Thunderlane said to nopony in particular, walking the streets of Ponyville. Studying the shops he passed by.

“Mr. Nobody?!” Just because it isn’t my name and my picture in the paper?!”

One hour later, Thunderlane found himself in front of a completely pink store. Two windows faced the street on either side of a transparent glass door. If the sign hanging above the door with "Sweets & Treats" written on it didn't betray the store's nature, the rows of candies visible through the window certainly did. After stopping in front of the run-down shop, Thunderlane, thinking that Rumble might appreciate some sweets after school, entered.

As soon as Thunderlane entered, a familiar voice chirped from behind the counter, "Hi! How can I help you?" Turning to the counter, Thunderlane recognized the cream-colored mare from the bar and cursed under his breath as he approached.

"Hi, I would-"

"Oh, you're that pegasus from this morning," Bon Bon said, tapping her hooves together on the counter. "Sorry, I can't remember your name."

Thunderlane scowled, but it vanished from his face as quickly as it appeared. "Thunderlane," he replied simply.

"Oh, right! Thunderlane," Bon Bon repeated, tapping her hoof on her forehead. "Don't worry, I'll make sure to remember it,” she said with a smile. "So, how can I help you?"

"Give me four of the purple ones and six of the red ones," Thunderlane requested.

"Okay, that'll be two bits," Bon Bon informed, preparing the bag of candies.

"Here they are."

"Thank you, hope to see you again!" Bon Bon called out as the door closed behind Thunderlane.

"Yeah, you'll see me again tomorrow, and this time you won't forget me," Thunderlane thought as he returned home.

After closing the door behind him, Thunderlane lay down on the padded couch and carelessly threw the bag of candies on the table in front of him. Even though he was a pegasus, his house resembled that of an earth pony, with no cloud furniture, a ramp of stairs and a low ceiling. He much preferred the spacious cloud home he used to live in with his parents back in Cloudsdale. But since he had decided to move to Ponyville, he couldn't use furniture that potential guests couldn't touch. Having a little brother who was still learning to fly necessitated at least having stairs.

"Where am I going tonight?" he thought aloud, staring at the bag of candies with the shop's logo and a smile briefly appearing on his lips before vanishing. "No, I won't put that arrogant shop's name in the newspaper," Thunderlane said, shaking his head. He glanced at the clock. "Well, there's still time before tonight; I'll have to pick up Rumble from school in a couple of hours. Let's see what I can prepare for lunch."

Thunderlane was already outside the school gate for ten minutes when he saw a group of colts and fillies running out of the building. Glancing through the crowd of excited kids, he quickly spotted his little brother's black mane.

"Hey, Rumble, how was school?" Thunderlane greeted.

"Hi! Good, we had a history test today, and I did really well!"

"Oh really? That's awesome!"

"Yeah, I was the best of all the class!" he said, smiling brightly to his brother. "Does this mean you'll let me go to the show you guys are doing at the end of the month?" Rumble asked with sweet eyes.

"I'm not sure... we'll see," Thunderlane replied.

"Come on," Rumble whined, "it's Rainbow Dash's first show in Ponyville since becoming a member of the starting team. She's so cool!"

At the mention of that name, Thunderlane's steps became heavier. "Yeah, she became a starter before some of the reserves even had a chance," he said irritably. "Some reserves wait for years to get a chance to make a name for themselves. She must be really special, huh?"

"S-sure," Rumble replied, noticing the change in his brother's behavior. "You'll get your turn soon; you'll see."

"Relax, I'm not that interested anymore,” Thunderlane replied, passing a hoof through his mane. "Let's go home."

Ponyville is primarily a farming town, a place where ponies wake up at dawn and go to bed at sunset, a town where residents don't believe in the need for alarms because in such a peaceful and friendly town, who would ever think of stealing from another?

This makes it a perfect town for a thief.

The moon illuminated Thunderlane's black coat, blending perfectly with the shadows of the night as he landed at the back of his target. After thinking it over during the afternoon, he had chosen an old vinyl store. He had been there earlier in the morning; it was a small shop run by a white mare with a blue electric mane. The place was not very busy, but the wooden walls were filled with shelves of vinyl records from various eras. The classical music playing in the background during opening hours added a vintage touch to the store. Thunderlane identified it as the perfect option: a worn out back door, close enough to nearby houses to be heard, and a lack of security measures outside the now-rusty lock.

Thunderlane paused to feel the gentle evening breeze and then approached the wooden door, breaking it open with his body. There was no need to be discreet that night. Thunderlane waited for the lights in the house across the street to turn on due to the noise before making his way inside the shop.

The anticipation was unbearable. Thirty minutes had already passed since he entered the shop. "Where are they? They should be here already," he muttered, pacing around the shop. On other nights, he cursed the police for their slow response time, but now it felt like they'd never arrive.

Tired of waiting, Thunderlane approached the cash register, which the owner emptied at the end of the workday. He took the note with his signature and moved to the display window.

There, in the reflection, he saw a black stallion looking back at him. He had a tired face and two large, resigned eyes. Holding the note high, he imagined posing for the pictures that would be associated with his name in the newspapers.

"Police, surrender!"

Thunderlane turned slowly and noticed the black face of a young and overly curious unicorn mare, likely a rookie, peeking through the door. Thunderlane couldn't discern her coat color due to the darkness, but it was certainly dark. Smiling at her, Thunderlane said, "I'm unarmed; I'm coming out."

The night spent in the cell was nothing but more waiting for Thunderlane. The cell in the police station where they held him for the night was just as he had imagined: small, dirty, and uncomfortable. Thunderlane couldn't sleep on the wooden plank they called a bed. Even the police station was not very large, probably because Ponyville was a modest-sized village. There were only a few desks, two cells, one of which was empty, and he wouldn't have guessed it was a police building if it weren't for the old sign out front. Above all, there was only one night guard, in case of emergencies, and that night it was the same newbie as before. Now he could clearly see her dark coat and long white mane cascading over her face, divided by her horn. Her smoky gray eyes were fixed on Thunderlane since they brought him in.

The policemare broke the silence after half an hour. "Why?"

"I'm sorry?" Thunderlane responded, confused.

"Why," she repeated, "do you keep stealing? Why leave those notes?"

"Is it your job to investigate criminals' motivations, officer?" Thunderlane replied, seeking a more comfortable position on the bed.

"My name is Lightseek, and call it personal curiosity," the policemare replied without taking her eyes off him.

"You wouldn't understand anyway," Thunderlane said without even bothering to open his eyes.

"Oh no? Enlighten me then," she retorted, approaching the cell.

"Alright, why not? I don't have anything better to do," Thunderlane replied, moving to the cell door. With a smirk, he said, "Tell me, how many Wonderbolt reserves do you know? How many reserves can you name? How many reserves can you recognize if you see them around?"

"None," replied Lightseek. "Why? What does that have to do with this?"

"Everything!" the pegasus yelled, stomping his hoof against the cell's iron bars.

"Whoa, calm down!" Lightseek shouted, taking a step back, surprised by the outburst, and her horn began to glow menacingly.

"Everything…" Thunderlane repeated, then went to his bed. "You've got your answer, now let me sleep."

"But it doesn't mean anything!" Lightseek insisted.

"See? I told you that you wouldn't understand," Thunderlane replied, closing his eyes and trying to find a comfortable position on the plank. "I've said what I had to say, now let me sleep a little.”

"Okay, whatever. Goodnight," a frustrated Lightseek responded before going to sit at one of the desks, waiting for her shift to end.

The next day, Thunderlane found himself walking the familiar streets of Ponyville, but this time, he wasn't alone. Eight other hooves echoed beside him. An older unicorn than Lightseek and an earth pony in a uniform, armed with batons, were escorting him to court. The sun was beating down on Thunderlane's back, and he wished he could spread his wings to catch some breeze and cool down, but the rope that bound his wings prevented him from doing so.

By this time, Flitter and Cloudchaser should have already found the note Thunderlane left the previous night and should be at his home with Rumble. Thunderlane regretted having to leave his little brother, but he knew it would be better for Rumble to be back in Cloudsdale with their parents.

They stopped just as he was beginning to catch sight of the cafe where he used to have breakfast, near the newspaper kiosk where he used to purchase the newspaper every morning. They stopped to allow an orange earth pony, pulling a cart filled with apples for the market, to pass by. Thunderlane's gaze landed on the front page of the newspaper on display.

As always, Thunderlane searched for a specific name. This time, he immediately found it written larger than usual at the top of the page. The headline of the main news read: "The Ghost Hunt is Over, Wonderghost Arrested."

This time, the image featured a face, a stallion with a blue mane, sporting a few gray streaks. His black coat was almost entirely covered by a blue uniform adorned with yellow lightning bolts. The stallion had a young, sweet, hopeful smile. If he hadn't noticed the other villagers around him before, now he couldn't help but continually glance around. As he walked through the town, he relished the gazes of all the villagers, the conversations that were spoken a bit too loudly, and the newspapers they were reading, all directed at him. They were looks, words, and pages filled with hatred, but they all had his name as their subject. Slowly, the corners of his lips lifted to match the smile on the newspaper, one filled with satisfaction.