- Chapter One -

Mission Well-Accomplished

A curtain of billowing darkness blanketed the room as the door slammed shut.

'This is my chance.'

A wary glance darted around the area before the suspect crept forward, closing the distance that separated the suspect and the target.

Clad in a tight-fitting, ebony-coloured gear, the suspect sneaked quietly around the pillar in stealthy footsteps.

Accompanied with a few silent and quick movements, the target was soon within reach. With another dexterous swipe, a hand snatched the target off the shelf and the black shadow-like figure hurried away, clutching the target firmly under an arm and pried the window lock open before jumping out of the window.

The suspect barely had time to land on the ground when an alarm sounded.

The atmosphere, previously calm and quiet, became chaotic and noisy. Worried and enraged yells filled the air, and a couple of police sirens added on to the tense mood of the place.

"Something has happened! It must be a thief trying to break into the museum!"

"Where's the alarm coming from?"

"The museum's most prized artifact has been stolen!"

The suspect groaned inwardly and cursed for forgetting to break off the alarm line before leaving the room.

The volume of the sirens increased with each passing second.

'They're coming closer.' A sudden pang of fear churned in the suspect's stomach at the idea of getting arrested. Brushing the thought away, the suspect leaped onto the branch of a tree and hopped forward, away from the frightening sound that had always been dreaded from young.

Branch by branch, the suspect swiftly sprung forward, the person's emotions tinged into a mixture of slight fear and apprehension.

Furious bellows, distressed voices and crestfallen yowls echoed in the ears of the suspect. Even after having run from the commotion, the suspect was still in hysterics. The suspect's conscience was in a whirlpool of maniacal thoughts.

'They could have caught you.'

'But I ran away in time.'

'You may not be so lucky next time.'

'I can always run away without getting caught.'

'But this is your first time someone almost spotted you.'

'I wasn't spotted. It was the alarm that aroused the commotion.'

'What if they caught you? You will be sent to jail without further consideration or hesitation from the police. This is certainly not the first time you committed an offence.

They will chain you in handcuffs, knot your legs together, make you lean against the wall and your life will be shortened with every whip that makes contact with your body. You will be surrounded

by them. Your life will be nothing but miserable.'

Miserable. Wretchedly unhappy, uneasy, or uncomfortable. A word full of meaning that would never be spoken or thought of unless one was already in an unavoidable situation, either by death or endless torture.

'I was raised like this. I can't escape from my destiny.'

'Your destiny of what? You want to be a criminal for the rest of your life? Will that satisfy you?'

The suspect broke off from the trance and snarled softly. 'As far as I'm concerned, these useless thoughts mean no less than a strand of hair to me. This is who I am and I have accepted myself.'

Feeling slightly encouraged by such words, the suspect draped the black hood over its head before scurrying behind the alley, the darkness of the night swallowing its retreating figure.

The black figure stepped into the room, panting raggedly, and closed the door with a brief slam. Still greatly astounded at the fact of nearly being caught earlier, the black figure let out a growl and used a finger to rub an eye before taking in the surroundings, to ensure this was the right place.

The floor was layered with slick, expensive white and hazel marble tiles, a great contrast to the dark cobalt blue that painted the walls of the room. A classy glass chandelier dangled from the ceiling, swaying slightly from side to side in the still air, making its usual soft and soothing tinkling sound as it moved, much like a wind chime.

But this time, the sound wasn't soothing. It reminded the suspect of how much it sounded like the faint bawls from the commotion a short while ago. Shivering in cold sweat, the figure tried to regain its composure as it stalked towards the bulky Oakwood door at the other end of the room. After a few moments' hesitation, it turned the knob, with much reluctance, and entered the room.

The suspect was now greeted by the ghastly-like white surroundings of the room. It reminded the suspect of how it always cringed when it entered this room, as the greyish-white walls made the room look extremely uninviting. The colourless floor tiles did not help either.

"I've been waiting for you."

The suspect placed the newly acquired possession on the huge glass table before bowing respectfully to the brunet that was seated comfortably on a plush chair.

The man's eyes glowed with pleasure. "Sit down," he commanded.

The suspect obeyed, plopping down on a cushioned seat opposite the man.

He slid a finger over the delicate vase, tracing the swirling patterns gingerly. "Not bad…" he murmured approvingly.

The suspect made no comment as the man continued observing the fragile vase.

An uncomfortable silence clouded the room, increasing the awkwardness between the two.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, the man stood up and gave a heartwarming smile to the expressionless suspect.

"You've done well. Your mission for today is done."

"Thank you, Master."

Like it? Hate it? Please tell me your opinions! (:

Also, here's a little question for you to ponder: Who do you think "the suspect" aka "the black figure" is? Hahaha, it's time for guessing!

Oh, and by the way, this is my first fanfic, and I have a feeling that it's really terrible, but I do welcome constructive criticism. Please no flaming, if you really dislike this, just give me the word, and I'll delete it straightaway. ^^

I apologise if I screwed up really bad up there, I'll try my best to improve as we go along! (: