Keep moving, move on - up the stairs, towards the jewel. The mansion was
well defended, but no door could stop him...
But I came in through the window!
"A window is just a sort of door, the window sill a sort of doorway.
Besides, we got through, so it must be so."
... he easily avoided the guards and alarms. He stood before the jewel.
Pressure sensitive display case? Oh yes, that's why he was here. He removed
a small electronic device from his cat suit and attached it to the base of
the display case, above the wiring. A small green light appeared on the
device. Good. He pressed on the display case - no alarm. Replacing the jewel
with a fake did not trip the alarm, nor did poking or prodding the case.
Good. The police would find the device, and spread the word of its
existence, warning each other and security firms of its threat. Corrupt
officers would sell the plans of the device to criminals and Vapula's latest
toy would become standard equipment for thieves. But only if he was
detected. He removed a mobile phone from his belt and dialled in an
anonymous tip-off to the police, and waited patiently in the shadows.
But how will this get me back my name?
"Later, little one, later."
But he stole my NAME! He stole me! I was as nothing!
Without the excitement of the theft to distract him, his mind wandered. His
fingers wandered, searching his neck for the bloody stump, remembering the
pain of beheading. But the skin was smooth, his fingers traced their way up
to his ears. He saw his reflection in the windows - so strange he looked,
with his unique head sitting on his shoulders. Unique? The one and only, but
the same as everyone else's. He sighed. Where were the police?
Lights came on; the guards were conducting a room by room search - warned by
the police perhaps. Finally they entered the display room. Tired and bored,
they could not react in time to the Thief, who sped past them. He dodged up
the stairs, around a corner - ah! A security camera! And an antique vase -
why did humans put those in corridors, so easily broken, still not my loss.
He removed a long, thin torch from his belt, making sure sure that it would
be obvious to the camera. A security guard came around the corner, and saw
the Thief, a long barrelled item in his hand - the Thief dived through a
door as the guard fired, the bullet destroying the vase.
How will that get me my name? Destruction isn't theft. Ruining the guards career
isn't theft. Besides, we ate Rapine; why bother with him now?
"We have a Soldier applying to become a security guard here. Ruining this
guards reputation lets us steal his job for our Soldier."
The Thief continued to run; the room he had entered had no other exits
besides the window. Dropping the torch (it would help ruin the guards'
reputation) he ducked out through the window, and standing on the sill,
leapt up to the window above - a jump only the finest athletes could have
achieved. He could have dropped to the ground and slipped away, but this was
more impressive.
What are you doing? I don't understand. *sigh* I've understood so little
since Uriel hacked off my head.
The Thief wrenched open the window and rolled into the room. As he crossed
the room, the door opened and a guard entered. A quick punch knocked the
guard out cold; a few minutes work later the Thief left the room, dressed as
a guard. The guard was tied up in a corner in his underwear. It was
important to leave guards looking foolish - he couldn't allow someone who
worked for a living to have any self-respect, after all.
"Now do you understand?" asked the second presence. He was worried about the
first presence, it hadn't ever recovered from the beheading. Still...
Yes, I think so. What shall we steal now? This mansion would make a good
temple. Can we steal it? I need a temple. But Wind stole them all, he stole
my worshippers, he stole my name, he stole, he stole....
The Thief rushed through the halls, searching for himself, pretending to be
a good guard, easily avoiding showing his face in the security cameras. He
worked his way towards the front entrance, and stepped outside, looking as
self-important and embarrassed as he could. There was no one outside. Time
to leave. And Valefor asked himself: what was the most appropriate way for
the Prince of Theft, to leave?
Hardly stylish, but appropriate enough, he supposed. He hotwired a security
van. And Janus, the Roman god of Doorways, drove off into the night.
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