Theft in the poor side of the city was common. When the sirens began their solemn wailing, the residents merely heaved a sigh and shuffled into the run down shacks they called their homes. Even more common was the need to press oneself as flat against the wall as possible to avoid being run into by the latest thief who thought they could outrun the law. The people of the town only cursed and shouted, but otherwise went about their days normally without so much as batting an eye.

Although, one of these petty thieves often earned himself a dark glare. That thief was busy on that dark November night trying to evade those tasked with bringing back his head.

"Damn it!" the young thief cried angrily, almost slamming into a poor woman who dropped her wares in trying to dodge the young man. He ducked past her, his shoulder slamming hard into the metal wall beside them, a bullet whizzing by them that hit a crate and caused shards to fly. The man swore once more as he continued to run.

"Stop in the name of the law, criminal!" a metallic voice thundered behind him, eliciting a scream from the innocent woman who had likely been shoved aside. The thief darted down a side street, pulling himself up onto a ledge provided by a low window sill. He looked back in time to see his pursuer, a large steel being, racing toward him on its single wheel.

Swiftly, he climbed the wall until the robot was almost directly beneath him before dropping down so his foot went through its protective glass or plastic shield, he didn't know which, so his thick boot collided with the internal processor. The metal groaned and creaked while the circuitry gave off angry sparks. The robot crashed to the ground, a hunk of useless metal. Alfred fell with it, landing on his back and side. It wrung a groan from his lips as he freed his foot.

'Damn robots are getting better...' he thought as he carefully extracted his foot, shaking off the gravel, glass, and metal that stubbornly clung to his clothing. He looked down at the robot, noticing the way thick lines, which would light up green while online, carved through the frame forming a pattern of light that would shower the dark streets to make it easier to find the criminals hiding in the shadows. The design had become sleeker; earlier models had been massive things almost too big to fit between the buildings of the alleyways that thieves preferred over the open streets. Its head was made of clear, curved glass which was meant to protect the controls tucked within. The horrid sirens, which haunted the thoughts of the people whose families were ripped away by the machines, were set deep in the robot's shoulders so they barely peeked over the outer armour. They disgusted the boy.

The wail of another monster machine approaching rapidly made him give the robot at his feet a kick before taking off. He couldn't help but grin, knowing that the police would never catch him. His pockets were heavy with stolen goods which promised a good week, at least. Rent could be paid, food could be purchased, which meant he had done well. Now all he could hope for was that the buyer would give him good profit for his work…

His thoughts were interrupted as a whoop broke through the air, making him jump. He ducked into the shadows. A young man moved into the alley, a long jacket hiding his bulky frame and a thick scarf wrapped around his face to keep his features from being recognized. Hair the color of metal hung over striking purple eyes which gazed out at the dark street coldly. The thief seeking refuge in the darkness stepped out, a grin already lighting his grimy face. The taller man smiled.

"Privet, Alfred," he said cheerily. His voice, laced thickly with the accent of a resident of Russia had not faded over time. It seemed lighter than normal. Alfred's grin got wider.

"Ivan! What're you doing here? I thought you were staying home! I had to do it by myself today!"

"Katyusha said she would take care of Natalia. I could go."

Alfred's hand moved subconsciously to his pocket and slipped inside, his fingers grazing his unlawfully gained goods. He and Ivan always split their earnings, since both of them had siblings to care for. Ivan had done no stealing throughout the day, so Alfred would have to give up half of his day's work; it left a bitter taste in his mouth as he dug out a good handful of valuables. Ivan's eyes shifted to the younger man's coat.

"I took some as well," he offered casually. Relief made Alfred's shoulders slump. They went through their normal routine of trading the stolen goods until they had roughly the same amount. The young men moved through the city, carefully staying out of sight as they walked toward their buyer's store. They had worked together for so long that conversation was pointless and dangerous. Neither could afford to be thrown into jail where their siblings would suffer without their providers.

Upon trading in their wares for what meager earnings they could, the two young men went their separate ways. Alfred watched Ivan's tall form disappear in the direction of the local at-risk shelter before running off in the opposite direction toward home.

The poor district was divided into sections as if someone had taken a marker and scribbled in borders. The district where the worst of the worst lived, if they could be called that, lived within towering walls and gates that closed the moment darkness fell in an attempt to control the unruly populace. It was a flawed method, for if one who lived within the walls was outside when the gates slammed shut, they were locked out and forced to spend the night in the streets.

The merchants and families which had a better chance of surviving were closer to the border. There they could have the delight and privilege of a rich man or woman stopping to look at what those beneath them were offering up for sale. They fought and scrambled for these oh so precious homes where life was at least bearable. Those tucked almost safely in sturdy homes looked down on those who fit in neither category, scattered about the decrepit city in pockets.

Regardless of which district a person came from, a rich man stood out. They would always notice the clean hair, clear skin, perfectly pressed clothing, good posture, shoulders back to make them look taller. They would draw away at the stench of the poor as if a single touch could kill them. The poor enjoyed approaching the rich to taunt them.

So when a rich man walked through the poor side of town without flinching, it drew unnecessary attention. The residents of the poor town stood in the darkness to watch this unwelcome stranger stroll through their streets. He moved as if he knew every stone and brick. He kept his chin up, making those who approached the blond man shy away.

He did, however, try to avoid their prying eyes as he drew closer to his destination. He walked down an alley and waited for the feeling of being watched to fade before approaching a home that was falling apart where it stood. He raised his hand to knock.

"Hey, you!"

The man swore, jumping back. His shoulder knocked into his attacker, making him curl into himself. He heard a snicker which grated on his every nerve.

"Easy, Frenchie, it's just me."

"Alfred!" he glared up at the thief, furious at his friend for daring to do something so stupid. If his stunt had gotten them caught, there was no way either would get out of the situation alive.

"Francis, relax. The police are on the other side of the town," Alfred said. He clapped a hand on Francis' shoulder with a grin. "You look so guilty! Come on, you know you don't have to knock."

Alfred twisted the knob and shoved the door with his hip before strolling inside. He didn't wait for the door to close before beginning to talk to another person who was safely inside the house. Francis, however, hesitated. He looked around before stepping in and slowly closing the door behind him.