Pollution

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I'm just borrowing. Please let me borrow in peace.

Prologue

November, 2004
Cambridge, Massachusetts

Stopping in his tracks, he stood and listened as the crunching sounds of footsteps on hardened snow became more distant. The pace hadn't been hurried though, and he knew that so far, he'd gone undetected. Tightening his jacket around him to ward off the chill of the windy November night, he began walking again, this time more briskly. He continued to follow the shadowy form before him, studying him, eyes narrowing in anger as the form moved onto the street. If he continued to follow where lights illuminated the street, he'd be discovered. The thief would know. He couldn't risk giving himself away, and so, he let the thief go, for the time being.

It became a game, the thief taking, and he following. With each episode, he became more brazen in his pursuit, fueled by anger and indignation, and he resolved to teach the thief a lesson. In this society, to turn the thief in would merely result in a slap on the wrist. Other societies would be less forgiving. In other societies, such arrogant behavior would have far more severe consequences, and it was time the thief personally learned of those penalties. He began to plan and waited for the right moment to enact that plan.

He put the plan into motion the very next night he caught the thief stealing, again taking from him, overconfident in his actions as though he'd never be caught. How dare the thief be so bold, show such disrespect? That the thief had chosen to take from him that night only intensified his fury. He would not tolerate such arrogance any longer. He searched through his possessions until he found an old relic, one that his associates didn't know about and couldn't be traced back to him. Weapon in hand, he pulled on a hooded cloak and followed the thief out into the night.

The moon, nearly full, lit the night sky, illuminating both his form, and the thief's form more than it had any of the previous nights he'd followed the thief. Feeling the need to exercise utmost caution he glanced around, relieved to see no other souls milling about, before cutting between paths in quick strides and ducking behind the trunk of a large, leafless, tree, waiting for the thief to come to him. He knew the thief's route, had followed the thief multiple times. It was only a matter of seconds before the thief would unknowingly cross his path. He waited, raising his arm up when he heard the sounds of the thief's footsteps on the snow-crusted path. When the thief was beside him, he brought the handle of his weapon down on the back of the thief's shoulder, knocking the thief to the ground. Hood over his head, hiding his features, he stared down at the thief with mockery. His eyes were ablaze and he felt a grim satisfaction to read the fear…no, the terror in the thief's eyes. In one swift movement, he took hold of the thief's arm with his free hand, pinning it to the cold ground. Just as quickly, his weapon wielding hand rose up and came back down, slicing off the thief's hand at the wrist. The thief's pained scream echoed in the night, blending in and dying with the howling of the eastern winds. He stood slowly, looking down at the young man bleeding on the ground below him. The thief looked up at him, shock and abject horror marring the innocent young features. He only smirked at the thief from beneath his hood. The experience left him feeling mad, exhilarated in a way he'd never before imagined. It had unleashed something powerful within him. He stared down at the crimson blood streaming across the white ground and creeping towards his feet, and he took a step back before disappearing into the night.