first fanfic of my life so be gentle xD
Surrounding the daily life of a thief from the moment a reporter was catching up on his activities.
It had been 5 years since his first big theft. A gem stolen from England's finest crown, the perfectly cut and polished ruby had glistened before him on pictures in books and newspapers. Nicking the precious gem was useless to the point it was only done to prove his skill, rumour goes the press was told to keep their pesky mouths shut about this. The gem had been replaced by a gorgeous replica, yet never was it the same in his eyes.
The vault it was now stored in kept it hidden away from the world until the moment was there to sell it. His mentor had been very clear about this, gems and jewellery are always located by the impatience of the thief. Selling them too quickly while they were still hot-topic on the black market. No he was smart. this would be at least hot for a year or 5 and then he could easily sell it for a even higher price. Patience was on his side.
"Un petit rubis…" [one small ruby]
Deep inside his pocket he could feel the stone burn, the 5 years had passed and it was time to get rid of it before that bratty young cop nicknamed Scout sniffed it in his pockets. At one point he had sworn the boy was more a energetic dog than a man. "Scout" was a boy who somehow ended up working for those pesky cops, when they figured he was of use they popped him a badge and a gun. 18 And a bright future ahead of him, depending on the amount of people he manages to miss during target practice. Mon Dieu, he shoots as impatiently as he spoke.
Then there were those annoying reporters and private detectives too. One had been following him around for weeks now, despite the great ghost he was in the shadows that damn car was always there when he went out or to his normal day job. Maybe that guy was onto him? It was soon time to get rid of that person. Today was the excellent opportunity seeing how the car had followed him to the black market. When the journalist would step out… He would emerge from the shadows and very neatly and cleanly stab or shoot him from behind. The car had stopped and the engine was turned off. With a small click the door opened, he stepped closer, what a small man stepped out. Wait? Did men always have waists like this? Damn this was not expected at all, he was not ready for this at all. You couldn't just stab a woman could you? It was taking too long, if he was stalling any longer she would notice and turn around. Quickly he stepped back into the shadows of the bushes behind her car again, observing her. Short curled black hair. Dark gray suit with pinstripes, red accents on her suit. Bodily curves he had never seen on this rotten American continent. How could something with a derriere like that have a near wasp-waist! Perfection and balance in curves and measurements. She sniffed softly, a small button-nose.
"… I can smell ya smoking creep come out!"
Her voice seemed stern and lower then the usual French girls he heard chitchatting.