Eugene stood underneath the fire escape, the darkness of the night shrouding him. His heart pained with guilt, but there was no other way.

He jumped up, holding onto the fire escape ladder that hung down, climbing it slowly. Once he reached the top, Eugene let out a sigh as he stared at a dirtied window, aware of what he was going to do next. He reached out his hand and wiped the dirt and sludge off the window, peering inside the apartment building. The lights were off and the coast was clear.

Eugene firmly gripped the bottom of the window, hoisting it slowly as to not make any noise.

I guess these people don't know how to keep their windows locked.

He stepped in, his shoes touching a wooden floor and causing it to creak. He placed his hand near his knife, ready at a moment's notice. But his anxiety was quickly quelled by the sights that surrounded him.

Eugene gazed around him, seeing the beautiful paintings that adorned the walls. These paintings were done directly on the wall, giving the room a cheery feeling, even though he himself wasn't very cheery at the moment. He couldn't see much from outside, but inside, he saw paintings of a blonde-haired girl. Even in the darkness he felt the awe that the paintings invoked. Paintings that depicted the same girl sitting on a tree looking into what appeared to be really bright stars, and the girl playing with what appeared to be a frog. Meanwhile, the recurring images of a sun were dotted around the room, on the floors and even the ceilings.

In the middle of the room was an easel holding a canvas. It seemed to be depicting a girl, the same one that was on the walls.

The longer he stared, the more captivated he felt, as if the paintings filled the deepest abyss in his heart. Who was this girl? Who was this wonderful artist?

Eugene was amazed, but his amazement quickly subsided.

Eugene realized that he needed to find another room, unless he would want to stash up on paint brushes instead. He approached the door leading out of the room, slowly opening it. He looking down the small hall, which turned both left and right. He turned left, towards what appeared to be a living room.

When he approached the small open area, he gazed around, looking for anything of value. A laptop, a TV, but nothing more pricey…

Something caught his eye. Through a cracked floor panel, he noticed a glint. He walked over to it, lifting the false floor panel.

"Wow," he uttered, as he stared at what appeared to be a crown. He picked it up, examining the gold and diamonds that encrusted it. The dense weight of the piece assured him that it was real gold and diamonds. But he couldn't do it. He knew that it was wrong, that whoever owns this crown would lose a fortune if it went missing. He held the crown tighter and tighter, his fingers sweating. In his jail cell, he prayed day and night, that if were to make it out of jail that he would turn away from this life. But now that he was out, he knew he had to punish the world. The same people who owned the crown were the ones who would spit on his face and treat him like a second class citizen. No. Eugene would not go soft. Not now.

His anger was quickly interrupted by the sound of feet approaching behind him. His head jerked backwards and surprisingly, he saw a beautiful girl staring back at him, anger and fear in her remarkable green eyes. Her blonde hair cascaded down her slender sides, reaching her waist. She held a frying pan, pointing it an armslength in front of him, a frog perched on her shoulders. She was dressed in a pink dress, her feet bare. Her arms were shaking and she mustered out a threat.

"Drop it... Now."

She was no threat, but why did he feel conflicted about stealing the crown? At that moment, Eugene Fitzherbert went soft. In the stories about Flynnigan Rider, Rider rescued women, not stole from them. He let out a sigh. He couldn't steal from this poor girl. He knew what he had to do.

Yet, in a split second he felt the frying pan hit him in the face, drawing blood from his nose and causing him to stumble backwards. Eugene looked at the girl, whose anger seemed to have escaped her eyes, becoming consumed by fear. Her arms shook more and she backed up, as if she was scared of the thief retaliating.

Eugene quickly regained his composure and took one look at the poor girl who was a few feet away from him now, still holding the frying pan. "I'm sorry," he apologized, throwing the crown back on the floor. Eugene quickly bolted to the window he came from, telling himself to never step foot in that apartment again.