D
Darg
Guest
Honor Among Thieves
Hello my beloved people of the forums! If you don't already know me, I am the Nightfox, a story writer of the site and some of my other work is in the Fan Fiction section, which I will be working on as well as this. What exactly is this? A story with a little bit of a different style from my previous tale, The Eye of the Phoenix. I thought I'd put a bit of a twist on the style of this one. It's a freeform writing style that's simple and seems more like an actual person could be saying it. It's all about the darker, sometimes funnier side of a thief's life in the city, with adventure and danger around every corner. I already have a few chapters set in stone, so I can release them at my leisure, but until then, take a read and see what you think...
Chapter 1
The scent of thick smoke was in the morning air as I heard the sound of my friend Reynolds’s voice shouting, “Raab! Raab!” It was my name, though in my current state, I don’t even know how I realized that. I lay on my back in the alleyway between the bank and the abandoned apartment complex, burning since only a few seconds ago. I heard Reynolds shouting again, his loud voice reaching down the shadowed alleyway, where it sounded far away and little more than an echo. What the heck had happened here? I tried to remember, but my head only hurt worse, if that was possible. Suddenly, it just came to me a bit late. Reynolds and I were in the complex, planting a bomb. Planting a bomb? Not the smartest thing I’ve done in the last month. Well, come to think of it, it was. Reynolds and I, we were not exactly what you could call law-abiding citizens. We lived on the edge of life and made our way however we possibly could, and trust me, that’s not a good thing all the time. Stealing from 7-elevens, hopping trains and living the darker side of life, that was it. We never killed anyone, but we just liked to make our point clear to people while living our lives our own way. The bomb was kind of like a present sent straight to a local gang we hated, The Blackhearts, that used it as a headquarters.
Lying there in the dusty alleyway, it made me wonder why we did half the things we did. But hey, sometimes that’s life… yeah, life for someone as crazy as me anyway. I heard Reynolds’s voice for the third time, and I finally stirred, pulling myself up to a sitting position and surprising myself about how little I hurt after what just happened. Oh yeah, not to mention that little episode, one of the many of our recent unpleasant adventures. While placing the bomb, we somehow forgot to lock the door to the room and voila, lo and behold some Blackhearts get in and push me off the fire escape. Story of my life, I guess. Reynolds managed to escape by scaling down the gutter system at the face of the building while the rest of the gang was occupied with screaming about the bomb. I guess they were smart enough to realize the danger, if not anything at all, diving out the window like maniacs right before the explosion.
Then, suddenly my vision came into focus and my eyes were greeted by the pleasant sight of Reynolds’s smiling face, glad I’d made it out of that ordeal. Reynolds had a messy head of dark brown hair that looked more like a gnarled bush than actual hair. He was fairly dark skinned and had hazel eyes, that always seemed to have a hopeful glint of light in them, even in the dark. Reynolds was always one to be known as a ‘the glass is half full’ type of guys, having optimism that anyone, though they never would admit it, would want to have. That includes me. I took his outstretched hand and was helped to my feet, slowly coming to the realization that I hurt more than I originally thought.
“Ow!” I yelled, limping as I stood up. My ankle seemed to have been a bit injured during the fall, but otherwise I was okay… for now, that was.
“You okay?” Reynolds asked in his naturally deep voice. I nodded, half coherent in the dark alleyway before I realized the danger we might be in. The burning building seemed to be falling apart at the seams beside us, randomly raining down piles of half-molten bricks and mortar. I’d say it was just about time to get out of here.
“C’mon!” I shouted. Almost immediately, Reynolds broke into a run, following behind me a bit. I was significantly faster than Reynolds, something I could at least be proud of despite his advanced strength. Forget advanced strength- let’s just say he was pretty much the toughest person I’d ever known. Tough may be interpreted as different things, but he was hard as a rock on the inside and out, a true fighter.
I sprinted out on the street with Reynolds in tow, with the pleasant thought on our minds that we were basically running for our lives. The bomb had done more damage than we had even thought possible, blowing the building off its foundation almost and shattering its only supports. It was an old building already, and this was apparently the straw that broke the camel’s back. Sparks and flames burst off the top of the apartment complex in a deadly light show. The brick chimney of the building seemingly exploded off its base and toppled out into the street, sending bricks and soot flying across the pavement. Then, without warning, the support beams of the building groaned, a sound that signaled the deathblow of the old structure. With a final burst of flame, its form waned and collapsed out onto the street, crashing with a culmination of breaking glass and crumbling stone, finally finishing our work. We were in for it now. Homemade bombs could be more powerful than we ever thought…
Down the street, we could still see the flickering flames out of the corner of our eyes, and the sound of a siren already wailed across this part of town. We had to get out of here. Reynolds’s truck was two blocks away, possibly not a smart choice on our part. We were out in the open, sitting ducks to the police if they caught the slightest whiff of us. I considered our options briefly. It was mid-morning and about the time that most of the shops opened in this area. Most of the shops had a back way out into the many winding streets that lead into the center of town. If we could run through an open shop and get into the backstreets, we might get a shot at escape. I ran up to the front of what looked like a barber shop, tugging on the door handle, only to realize it was locked securely.
“Crap!” I bellowed, abandoning it and continuing up the street to a music store. The sound of the siren grew even closer and seemed to be but a block away. I shoved my full weight against the door of the shop, finding again that it was still locked. When did these people open up? It was no time to think about it, but to act. I backed up past the curb and rammed against the door as hard as I could. Maybe it was a little too hard. I stumbled back and crashed on my back in the gutter.
It was then that Reynolds had the door open as he said, “Um… it says pull right here.” Duh. I hopped up and ran in, noticing the shopkeeper’s odd expression, probably because I tried to burst his door down. He looked as though he was going to say something, but we brushed right past him, scurrying through a back storage room, almost stumbling over the number of random boxes and clutter around the shop. With one of his black combat boots, Reynolds kicked the door open in the back, hurrying out into a dank alleyway. The door shut behind us, and I then realized it would be too late to go back now. The door could only be opened from one side. This of course spawned more problems. It would just be too easy to escape apparently.
“Um… Reynolds?” I asked, hearing the horrid sound of a sports car revving.
“Yeah?” He sounded out of breath.
“Look.” And then, a dark Ferrari seemed to materialize out of the dark alleyway- a Blackheart car. Oh, happy day. “Run!” It was time for plan B… the plan where we usually run away screaming like little girls. I don’t know what it was about that moment, but my adrenaline reached a level I’d never even known possible and I started into a flat-out run. Who was I kidding though? Even being as fast I was, you can’t outrun a Ferrari. That would also be too easy. Reynolds was keeping pace with me, falling behind a little, but it was no race… scratch that- this was a race for our lives. The Ferrari revved loud and long as if just toying with us, its prey, before it moved in for the kill. It was just like those Blackheart jerks to taunt us before they mowed us down. I wasn’t going to let them get us, no matter what. About two-hundred feet in front of us was an intersection, perhaps a chance for escape, but the Ferrari was already in motion.
I’d been saving it for a long time, but it was now time to use it. I whipped out a revolver-style pistol and aimed backwards, taking blind shots at the car with the hopes of nailing one of the tires. Guess what- you can’t just hope. I heard the sound of the alleyway gravel kicking up behind the speeding Ferrari, a sure sign that they were bound to catch us if we didn’t pick up the pace. We were almost there- a mere ten feet from the intersection, when Reynolds fell. He tripped on his own boots and hurtled head over heels. It was no time to help him up. The Ferrari’s headlights now lit up the alleyway behind us. I grasped Reynolds by the collar of his leather jacket and dragged him as quick as I could. He recovered, and it was time to flee once more. Out into the intersection, that was. A green sedan rolled around the corner of a shop, Reynolds and I seeing our opportunity and swiftly taking it. We bounded up onto the hood of the car, climbing to the roof and leaping off the back. It was too late for the Ferrari. It hit the sedan head on, stopping it in its tracks and flinging steel and glass out into the intersection. Whew. That was a close one.
Reynolds’s truck was in sight, blue and thoroughly rusted. If we could only reach it then we would be home free. And then another of the many little problems with this plan: two Blackhearts were already waiting for us by the truck, baseball bats, guns and all. This was really not the time. Reynolds strode ahead of me a bit, already getting ready for a fight. He was a vicious hand to hand combatant when he wanted to be, having once been a champion boxer, or so I’ve been told. Whatever the case, he had some serious skill. With a sideways swing, he bashed the gun out of one of the thugs’ hands, making sure to throw it a far distance away before he continued. The other thug swung his bat at me, shouting, “Yo man, you’re gonna pay!” Yeah, I bet. I side-stepped and missed the swing, mostly due to the fact that Blackheart thugs were dumb as sacks of rocks and slow as injured snails. I swiped at the back of his neck, punching him hard and making sure he went down just as hard. I looked over to see how Reynolds was faring, not surprised to find that he was beating the other Blackheart senseless. The thug with the baseball bat recovered getting up and realizing that he was terribly out matched. He dropped the bat and dashed away frantically. We wouldn’t follow him. Reynolds snatched up the bat and decided to deal with the other thug.
“You see what happens when you’re stupid, Blackheart?” He said with a mocking tone as he cracked the bat in half over the brute’s fat head. He was out cold for now. It was just about time to get the heck out of here, the oncoming siren as our cue. With me sitting in shotgun, tense but glad we were finally out of harm's way, he floored it and off we went down the empty mid-morning street. And there you have it- a clean getaway… well partially anyway.
Hello my beloved people of the forums! If you don't already know me, I am the Nightfox, a story writer of the site and some of my other work is in the Fan Fiction section, which I will be working on as well as this. What exactly is this? A story with a little bit of a different style from my previous tale, The Eye of the Phoenix. I thought I'd put a bit of a twist on the style of this one. It's a freeform writing style that's simple and seems more like an actual person could be saying it. It's all about the darker, sometimes funnier side of a thief's life in the city, with adventure and danger around every corner. I already have a few chapters set in stone, so I can release them at my leisure, but until then, take a read and see what you think...
Chapter 1
The scent of thick smoke was in the morning air as I heard the sound of my friend Reynolds’s voice shouting, “Raab! Raab!” It was my name, though in my current state, I don’t even know how I realized that. I lay on my back in the alleyway between the bank and the abandoned apartment complex, burning since only a few seconds ago. I heard Reynolds shouting again, his loud voice reaching down the shadowed alleyway, where it sounded far away and little more than an echo. What the heck had happened here? I tried to remember, but my head only hurt worse, if that was possible. Suddenly, it just came to me a bit late. Reynolds and I were in the complex, planting a bomb. Planting a bomb? Not the smartest thing I’ve done in the last month. Well, come to think of it, it was. Reynolds and I, we were not exactly what you could call law-abiding citizens. We lived on the edge of life and made our way however we possibly could, and trust me, that’s not a good thing all the time. Stealing from 7-elevens, hopping trains and living the darker side of life, that was it. We never killed anyone, but we just liked to make our point clear to people while living our lives our own way. The bomb was kind of like a present sent straight to a local gang we hated, The Blackhearts, that used it as a headquarters.
Lying there in the dusty alleyway, it made me wonder why we did half the things we did. But hey, sometimes that’s life… yeah, life for someone as crazy as me anyway. I heard Reynolds’s voice for the third time, and I finally stirred, pulling myself up to a sitting position and surprising myself about how little I hurt after what just happened. Oh yeah, not to mention that little episode, one of the many of our recent unpleasant adventures. While placing the bomb, we somehow forgot to lock the door to the room and voila, lo and behold some Blackhearts get in and push me off the fire escape. Story of my life, I guess. Reynolds managed to escape by scaling down the gutter system at the face of the building while the rest of the gang was occupied with screaming about the bomb. I guess they were smart enough to realize the danger, if not anything at all, diving out the window like maniacs right before the explosion.
Then, suddenly my vision came into focus and my eyes were greeted by the pleasant sight of Reynolds’s smiling face, glad I’d made it out of that ordeal. Reynolds had a messy head of dark brown hair that looked more like a gnarled bush than actual hair. He was fairly dark skinned and had hazel eyes, that always seemed to have a hopeful glint of light in them, even in the dark. Reynolds was always one to be known as a ‘the glass is half full’ type of guys, having optimism that anyone, though they never would admit it, would want to have. That includes me. I took his outstretched hand and was helped to my feet, slowly coming to the realization that I hurt more than I originally thought.
“Ow!” I yelled, limping as I stood up. My ankle seemed to have been a bit injured during the fall, but otherwise I was okay… for now, that was.
“You okay?” Reynolds asked in his naturally deep voice. I nodded, half coherent in the dark alleyway before I realized the danger we might be in. The burning building seemed to be falling apart at the seams beside us, randomly raining down piles of half-molten bricks and mortar. I’d say it was just about time to get out of here.
“C’mon!” I shouted. Almost immediately, Reynolds broke into a run, following behind me a bit. I was significantly faster than Reynolds, something I could at least be proud of despite his advanced strength. Forget advanced strength- let’s just say he was pretty much the toughest person I’d ever known. Tough may be interpreted as different things, but he was hard as a rock on the inside and out, a true fighter.
I sprinted out on the street with Reynolds in tow, with the pleasant thought on our minds that we were basically running for our lives. The bomb had done more damage than we had even thought possible, blowing the building off its foundation almost and shattering its only supports. It was an old building already, and this was apparently the straw that broke the camel’s back. Sparks and flames burst off the top of the apartment complex in a deadly light show. The brick chimney of the building seemingly exploded off its base and toppled out into the street, sending bricks and soot flying across the pavement. Then, without warning, the support beams of the building groaned, a sound that signaled the deathblow of the old structure. With a final burst of flame, its form waned and collapsed out onto the street, crashing with a culmination of breaking glass and crumbling stone, finally finishing our work. We were in for it now. Homemade bombs could be more powerful than we ever thought…
Down the street, we could still see the flickering flames out of the corner of our eyes, and the sound of a siren already wailed across this part of town. We had to get out of here. Reynolds’s truck was two blocks away, possibly not a smart choice on our part. We were out in the open, sitting ducks to the police if they caught the slightest whiff of us. I considered our options briefly. It was mid-morning and about the time that most of the shops opened in this area. Most of the shops had a back way out into the many winding streets that lead into the center of town. If we could run through an open shop and get into the backstreets, we might get a shot at escape. I ran up to the front of what looked like a barber shop, tugging on the door handle, only to realize it was locked securely.
“Crap!” I bellowed, abandoning it and continuing up the street to a music store. The sound of the siren grew even closer and seemed to be but a block away. I shoved my full weight against the door of the shop, finding again that it was still locked. When did these people open up? It was no time to think about it, but to act. I backed up past the curb and rammed against the door as hard as I could. Maybe it was a little too hard. I stumbled back and crashed on my back in the gutter.
It was then that Reynolds had the door open as he said, “Um… it says pull right here.” Duh. I hopped up and ran in, noticing the shopkeeper’s odd expression, probably because I tried to burst his door down. He looked as though he was going to say something, but we brushed right past him, scurrying through a back storage room, almost stumbling over the number of random boxes and clutter around the shop. With one of his black combat boots, Reynolds kicked the door open in the back, hurrying out into a dank alleyway. The door shut behind us, and I then realized it would be too late to go back now. The door could only be opened from one side. This of course spawned more problems. It would just be too easy to escape apparently.
“Um… Reynolds?” I asked, hearing the horrid sound of a sports car revving.
“Yeah?” He sounded out of breath.
“Look.” And then, a dark Ferrari seemed to materialize out of the dark alleyway- a Blackheart car. Oh, happy day. “Run!” It was time for plan B… the plan where we usually run away screaming like little girls. I don’t know what it was about that moment, but my adrenaline reached a level I’d never even known possible and I started into a flat-out run. Who was I kidding though? Even being as fast I was, you can’t outrun a Ferrari. That would also be too easy. Reynolds was keeping pace with me, falling behind a little, but it was no race… scratch that- this was a race for our lives. The Ferrari revved loud and long as if just toying with us, its prey, before it moved in for the kill. It was just like those Blackheart jerks to taunt us before they mowed us down. I wasn’t going to let them get us, no matter what. About two-hundred feet in front of us was an intersection, perhaps a chance for escape, but the Ferrari was already in motion.
I’d been saving it for a long time, but it was now time to use it. I whipped out a revolver-style pistol and aimed backwards, taking blind shots at the car with the hopes of nailing one of the tires. Guess what- you can’t just hope. I heard the sound of the alleyway gravel kicking up behind the speeding Ferrari, a sure sign that they were bound to catch us if we didn’t pick up the pace. We were almost there- a mere ten feet from the intersection, when Reynolds fell. He tripped on his own boots and hurtled head over heels. It was no time to help him up. The Ferrari’s headlights now lit up the alleyway behind us. I grasped Reynolds by the collar of his leather jacket and dragged him as quick as I could. He recovered, and it was time to flee once more. Out into the intersection, that was. A green sedan rolled around the corner of a shop, Reynolds and I seeing our opportunity and swiftly taking it. We bounded up onto the hood of the car, climbing to the roof and leaping off the back. It was too late for the Ferrari. It hit the sedan head on, stopping it in its tracks and flinging steel and glass out into the intersection. Whew. That was a close one.
Reynolds’s truck was in sight, blue and thoroughly rusted. If we could only reach it then we would be home free. And then another of the many little problems with this plan: two Blackhearts were already waiting for us by the truck, baseball bats, guns and all. This was really not the time. Reynolds strode ahead of me a bit, already getting ready for a fight. He was a vicious hand to hand combatant when he wanted to be, having once been a champion boxer, or so I’ve been told. Whatever the case, he had some serious skill. With a sideways swing, he bashed the gun out of one of the thugs’ hands, making sure to throw it a far distance away before he continued. The other thug swung his bat at me, shouting, “Yo man, you’re gonna pay!” Yeah, I bet. I side-stepped and missed the swing, mostly due to the fact that Blackheart thugs were dumb as sacks of rocks and slow as injured snails. I swiped at the back of his neck, punching him hard and making sure he went down just as hard. I looked over to see how Reynolds was faring, not surprised to find that he was beating the other Blackheart senseless. The thug with the baseball bat recovered getting up and realizing that he was terribly out matched. He dropped the bat and dashed away frantically. We wouldn’t follow him. Reynolds snatched up the bat and decided to deal with the other thug.
“You see what happens when you’re stupid, Blackheart?” He said with a mocking tone as he cracked the bat in half over the brute’s fat head. He was out cold for now. It was just about time to get the heck out of here, the oncoming siren as our cue. With me sitting in shotgun, tense but glad we were finally out of harm's way, he floored it and off we went down the empty mid-morning street. And there you have it- a clean getaway… well partially anyway.
