Prologue: The Heist
He knelt over the skylight. The lighting was down to just the bare minimum, which was needed for the guards to make their rounds. He slid the rope off of his shoulder and let it rest, coiled by his thigh. He extended one of his razor sharp claws and began cutting a hole in the glass of the skylight. When the hole was cut, the glass slipped through. He reached through with practiced ease and agility, grabbing the edge before it could fall the three floors to the ground.
Carefully, he pulled it up and let it rest next to the rope. He then took the rope and tied one end off to one of the many pipes that roof have for no apparent reason other than to give people sturdy places to secure ropes for repelling and such. He tied the other end to a small, ten pound weight before easing said weight through the hole in the glass. The weight did as it was supposed to do and kept the rope from swaying while it went down.
Once this was done, the weight hovered some twenty feet off of the ground. He grabbed hold of the rope and began to ease himself down into the museum. As he hung from the bottom of the rope, he looked down, sizing the drop. Only maybe twenty-five feet from where he was. No problem. But if he timed it right, he might be able to kill two birds with one stone.
As he hung there, a security guard came into the tall room. He wore a white shirt, black pants and all the accessories that told the people around him that he was a person of authority. Too bad the figure hanging from the rope didn't respect authority. He waited for the guard to be directly below. Then he let go of the rope and dropped down, silently landing on the guard's head, knock him out for a long time.
The figure crouched, looking for any other guards who might have heard the muffled grunt of the fallen man. Convinced that his presence was still unknown to any who could do anything about it, he picked up the guard and took him to the darkest corner he could locate. He dropped the guard and then went about his business, fingering the ring finger of his right hand. It would his soon.
The dark figure snuck from room to room. He passed countless different pieces of artwork that could easily fetch a hansom bundle. He went past statues and precious stones. Yet he moved with a purpose as he climbed the stairs. He was here for a reason. And that reason was up on the second floor. He ascended the stairs as silently as a cat. His bare feet landed like velvet on the fabric covering the wooden steps.
Once on the desired floor, he poked his head out the door. He didn't see anyone. He closed his eyes and listened. He didn't hear anyone. He took a big whiff of the air through his nose. He didn't smell anyone. But that didn't mean the way was clear. Slowly, he crept from the stairwell and proceeded down the hall. His senses were alert for the slightest tremor of movement.
He paused in front of a map of the second floor. He studied it carefully, not wanting to get lost. After a few moments, he had the thing memorized. He was about to take off when another guard showed himself. The figure flicked his tail in irritation and ducked to the shadows. The guard passed in front of the map and stopped. He lifted his radio and put it to his mouth.
"Hey Frank," he said. "You want to get a burger or something after our shift." He lowered it slightly, waiting for a response. When none came he said, "Hey, Frank. You there?" There was still no answer. Curious, the guard went off in the direction of the stairs.
The figure cursed to himself, silently. They would find the other guard and then know something was up. He fled from his hiding spot and began to rush through the rooms, stealth second to success. After much running, he came to the room he wanted. He stood before a display case and looked it at the contents. What he saw was a jewel-encrusted sword, an eight-sided ring, a few stones and a diamond the size of a potato.
Carefully, he studied the case. How could he get into it without drawing attention? He was hoping he could get what he wanted without letting the cops know what he took exactly. But when he heard the alarm sound, he knew that there was no time for subtlety. He pulled his fist back and punched the glass of the case. It shattered and he reached in, grabbing what he came for.
He turned and began to run for the tall room he had entered from. As he neared the stairs, however, he could see that more guards were coming through the stairwell. He turned and bolted. He pulled up the map in his mind and recalled that there was a small balcony on this floor in his desired room. He made for it as fast as he could. The guards were right behind him.
When he reached the balcony, he didn't even slow down. He jumped up and, pushing off the railing with his feet, headed for the rope. His clawed hands wrapped around the rope's end, inches above the weight. Quickly he began to pull himself up. The guards reached the balcony and aimed their weapons at the figure as he reached the third floor. Warnings were shouted, but the figure kept climbing. The guards began to fire.
Their aim was horrible, and none of them hit the target. The last they saw was a flick of a tail as the figure disappeared into the night. The police were called and a report was filed. But the curious thing was that when the cops asked what was stolen, all they had to put down was one eight-sided ring. Everything else was exactly as it should be.