DAY

I watch her as she leaps carelessly from building to building. Strong, yet exuding grace. This girl's as agile as any other republic soldier I've come across. I look in amazement as she pulls out a hacked gun; no doubt stolen and filled with tranq darts, and takes down seventeen guards using seventeen shots. Amazing.

"Day." Tess is calling, but I'm still watching as she easily makes her way into a building and slips back into the shadows. I stare at the window she went into, but nothing moves.

"Day!" I jump, and Tess shoots me an irritated glance.

"Oh, sorry." I respond, and Tess just rolls her eyes.

"ANYWAY, before you were ever-so-distracted from the Girl," She teases, and I groan. "I finished prepping our plans, and I found this." She opens her palm to reveal a necklace. The chain is long and golden, while the pendant itself is a long crystal point; a dark purple stone.

I'm instantly mesmerized and I pick it up, examining it and its imperfections.

"Where'd you find this?"

"When you were busy admiring the Girl," She says coyly, "I went down from the roof to go gather some supplies. Food, ammo, the works, and I just found it, lying on the ground." She shrugged. "I don't know if it's worth much."

I give it to Tess. "Here, keep it." I stand up. "I gotta go get ready. Be careful, Tess."

"YOU be careful, Day." Her eyes fill with sorrow and worry.

"Wait for me in the Area, I'll be done in about three hours." She knows where I'm talking about. "And bring some of the supplies, too."

I hop down gracefully and with ease down the rooftop, and slip on my gear.

Black leather everywhere. A jacket, dark grey army pants, and thick boots. I have six knives hidden on me: Two sheathed at the waist.

Am I ready?

Why not.

I charge into the store, antique wines; expensive liquors.

Burlap sack at the ready, and I stand, right in front of a ton of wealthy folks, all in the middle of buying their goddy damn juices. I move quickly, grabbing the nearest person next to me. Little old man looking at the merlots.

"Everybody freeze!" They listen. Didn't expect some street con to break in on them, did they? I point at the cash register, and I can feel the man sweating and panicking.

"Move, and this here gentlemen dies." I flash the gleam of my knife under his chin. Nobody knows I'm not cracked enough to actually kill him.

"Give me everything in that register." The clerk follows my orders, young and inexperienced, barely legal to work in a booze shop.

"Here you go, sir." The cashier mumbles, his fear obvious. I smirk. Some republic notes sit on the countertop, where he pushed them to. Good enough.

I grab them, stuffing them into my pockets and my sack.

"Get me the most expensive crap you sell." The clerk hesitates, and bites his lip.

"Do it!" I yell, and the man sucks in a breath. I shove the sack towards him and he takes it reluctantly.

I look up, sensing movement. In the air vent, is the Girl. She sees me look at her, and her eyes widen, but nonetheless, pushes her way through and jumps down, people scream. She holds out knives, to let people know she's armed, but doesn't try to hurt anyone. She looks around. Her eyes, are a shade of dark brown, but not dark enough so that you can still make out her pupils. They're cold yet regretful, like she feels bad robbing a liquor store, even if it's full of selfish aristocrats. I can feel her aura of despair, anger, and other attitudes that are quite admirible. She's dressed like me: In dark colors, but very, very silent.

"How-what…" I manage to choke out. The man under my arm is looking quite bewildered, too.

"How'd you get in here?" I ask her, but she says nothing.

She takes more notes, tucked away safely under the counter, hidden so I and cons like me wouldn't find them, and tosses half the stash to me.

"What's your name?" Nothing.

She looks at me, an emotion flashes across her eyes, but it passes by so fast I can't quite make it out. Pity?

"Hey, thanks." She stays silent, taking a thick wad of notes for herself. She climbs back up to the vent, looks back and says,

"No problem." And makes her way out.

The original break-in resumes.

The clerk turns back to me.

"What are you waiting for? Get the goods!" I yell irritably.

With his hands up, he moves nervously to a reserved shelf, carefully picking out specific wines and champagnes.

Aged, all VERY expensive, each probably worth more than my old house. He puts them in my bag with the best of care, and then, walks over to me and puts the bag on the floor next to my feet.

"Think fast." I whisper to the man I'm holding hostage, I shove him forward, fling the front door open, and run as fast as I can. Inside the shop, commotion is breaking out. There's yelling and screaming, and even crying.

Rich folks don't arm themselves so well around these parts, and I make my getaway easily and safely.

Soon, the sound of footsteps fade away into the darkness.