It Could Be Worse
Episode 7: Stop, Thief!
By Sulia Serafine
[1-17-01. A Protector of the Small fanfic set in an alternate universe; all credit goes to Tamora Pierce. I'm broke, so you can't sue me.
Oh, one more thing: BAD LANGUAGE (I. E. cursing, swearing…). You have been warned!
I'd also like to thank those who gave me help with the character descriptions. If anyone else want to help me, please e-mail me at silverwLng@aol.com, okay? I'm finally getting around to working on my tiny website, and there's a new section for my Tortall stories. I'll tell you the address when I deem it worthy to be seen by you. Enjoy the chapter, I know you've been waiting for it! Please, tell me what you think. I'd also like to once again thank those who made ALLO a success. This one's for you.
P.S. Something I forgot! This Story takes place in 949 H.E, but it is an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE! AND ANY IMPORTANT CHARACTERS OF THE TAMORA PIERCE UNIVERSE I HAVEN'T PUT IN YET WILL ENTER THE STORY LATER ON, AS MAJOR CHARACTERS, NOT CAMEOS. Thank you and have a nice day.]
"Well," Keladry leaned back in the driver's seat. "Maren was no good. Where to next?"
Cleon scanned the navigational screen in between them. He traced a route with his finger. "It looks like a place called Rogue Bay." He leaned his head out the window and called over to Joren. "Hey! How does Rogue Bay sound to you?"
"I know that place," Joren said as he walked up. "I'd rather not go there, but if we have to, we have to. Although we'll end up regretting it."
Keladry started the car. "Okay, then. Rogue Bay, here we come."
~~
Rogue Bay was a village in the sense of how it looked from the outside. In reality, it was as large as a city. The rural town overlooked a large bay, obviously named Rogue Bay. The water shimmered in the setting sun as the large white sails of old fashioned boats pulled into dock. The town based its economy on the sea. It was the most common transportation out of the town. Every other man worked on the docks, or was a sailor. Keladry awed at the magnificent boats with their shining metal hulls and their scrubbed bodies. The old fashioned boats made her smile. Anything that large that was constructed out of wood was rare, and Rogue Bay had plenty of them.
The streets were maintained as they were two centuries ago, paved in varying shades of brown cobblestones. All the buildings were ancient in their structure. Wooden signs with painted words on them, accompanied sometimes by a simple explaining picture. The glass windows were actually opened by latches and covered by shutters.
"Colonial," Keladry whispered, reminded of her history class. But something was wrong. There was a touch of modern day technology, for the windows were covered with an extra layer of synthetic sensors from the inside. This way, no one could break in. She stood back from the store window she was examining and rejoined the group.
"This place is beautiful," she told her two partners. "Look at that sky. This air is so fresh. It's like stepping back into the past if you ignore the modern flaws. It's like in colonial times or at least the century after that. Don't you think?"
Cleon folded his hands behind his head as they walked. "I don't know." His face lit up. "If there's one thing I remember in history class, the colonial period had the best ale in the history of the world!" He nudged Joren. "What do you say we find a tavern--"
"Hey," Keladry tapped him on the shoulder. "We're on duty, if you care to remember."
"Let's just get this over with," Joren said, bored. He looked over his shoulder. "I don't want to leave my bike at the inn for long."
"Well, I left my guns there," Cleon shrugged.
"Then you're stupid."
"Hey!"
"Don't leave weapons unattended," Joren scolded. "That takes a few marks on your field probation."
Keladry glared at the blonde. "Give him a break, Stone. Nothing will happen. So let's go to the city hall before it closes down for the night. Maybe we're lucky and some strange inventor will have moved into the city within the last decade."
Cleon turned his head this way and that, looking at every single building within sight. "I don't think so. Thom Trebond would be in a modern city, not this sea port."
"I don't think so," Keladry said. "If I were him, I would hide in the least likely place I would be found."
While Cleon and Keladry argued, they continued to stroll down the narrow street until they came to bus stop. The city was in fact, huge, and they could not walk all the way to the city all even if they wanted to. Not without making it to the place at midnight, anyway.
The bus came five minutes later, a ground vehicle that had polished wooden benches and brass poles. Keladry leaned down and examined the quality of the wood. It was very good. She imagined it cost a lot to have an antique running as a public service. The bus driver was a kindly old man with large white eyebrows and jowls like a bulldog. He wore a blue uniform and a shiny pin in the shape of the bus.
"Is the city hall open still, sir?" Keladry asked.
"Yes, I believe it is," the bus driver replied. "Are you tourists?"
Keladry looked down at herself. They were wearing civilian clothes once again, so not to frighten anyone away with their imposing uniforms. "Um, you could say that. We're looking for someone."
"Ah! Well, I hope you find whoever it is you're looking for," he said. He looked at them using his mirror. "Just be sure not to run into the Street Pirates."
"The what?" Cleon asked with wide eyes. "Street Pirates?"
"I warned you guys," Joren said with a smug look on his face. He sat back. "I think we can avoid them as long as we stay in low profile."
"What if they steal my guns?" the other man gasped in horror. "That would be terrible! I mean, just think of it. Some low-life thief with my guns! Guns with bullets specially marked to belong to the DJPF. If they used those weapons to do their dirty work, then… then…"
Keladry raised one eyebrow. "Uh, you'd better relax. You're going to start hyperventilating any second now."
"Too… late…"
"Oh, brother."
~~
By showing their unmistakable personal IDs, they were granted access to the city's confidential files. The three officers sat in the old filing room, searching databases and manually kept papers. Keladry stacked manila folders full of profiles for generally richer men in the city who had an affinity for technology, unlike the rest of the seemingly sleepy town.
"Paper," Cleon wrinkled his nose. "They have their files in paper." He spun around in his chair and looked over Joren's shoulder. "Did you find anything yet?"
"No."
"I don't see anything here either," Keladry announced and dropped the last folder on the oak table in front of her. "I suggest we go back to the inn and get some sleep." She looked at her pager. "It's 1:14 AM."
Joren shut down the computer search database. "Let's go."
Since it was past midnight, the three got a lift from the security guard that was switching shifts with another guard arriving at the building. The tall guard drove an old pick-up truck with a scratched and chipped blue paint job. Since it was so old, it went very slow and they reached their inn thirty-five minutes from when they left.
"Thank you," Cleon and Keladry chorused as the security guard pulled away, saluting them as he went.
"Who has the keys?" Joren asked with an irritated-from-lack-of-sleep expression. They had rented the room right next to the mini-garage in the inn since he insisted to be near the bike.
"I have them," Keladry yawned. She tossed the other two sets of keys that weren't hers to the other two men. As they neared their rooms, they went their separate ways. Keladry fiddled with the keys to her room, Cleon marched straight in, and Joren headed to the garage to check on his bike.
Keladry swung the door open and back kicked it closed. Then she stretched her arms over her head and flung off her jeans-jacket. It was cold at night in the port-town. It didn't surprise her since the wind blew chilly across the waters. Just as she reclined on the bed with her shoes still on, there was a loud shout that disrupted her pleasant state of mind.
"THEY STOLE MY BIKE!"
She could have jumped three feet up into the air from the shock it gave her. Keladry darted to the door and ran from there to the garage. Cleon was right behind her as they jumped the gate to the garage. And there, in the dim light, Joren was furiously pacing the spot where his bike had been. Only his helmet remained.
"Those bastards!" he yelled. He saw his two partners enter and pointed frantically to the helmet on the ground. "Look! Look!"
"We're looking!" Keladry exclaimed irritably. "Calm down, Stone. We'll get to the bottom of this."
He stared at her incredulously. "Oh please! Everyone knows there are only one group of thieves in this town, and those would be the Street Pirates." He grabbed fistfuls of his pale hair and stifled more cries of anger. "I… I can't believe this! They stole my bike!" He pointed to the helmet some more. "My… my beautiful bike. After all this time-- just gone, gone like that." He snapped his fingers. Then he cracked his knuckles. "Okay, okay. Now, it's personal."
While he continued to rant and rave unceremoniously, Cleon opened the trunk of their car and paled. He leaned down for a few seconds. Keladry couldn't see past Joren's pacing figure.
"I just spent 50 Nobles on her the other day! I was even thinking of putting a new fire design on the sides--"
"THEY STOLE MY GUNS!"
"Well, they stole my bike!" Joren snorted, thinking he had the worse situation.
"No, no. My guns-- oh, God, I'm going to get discharged from DJPF before I've even gotten off probation!" Cleon cried.
"Those bastards!" the two men screamed at the same time.
"Son of a bitch, what are we going to do?" Cleon fell to his knees, clutching the black bag where he had hid his numerous guns.
"Damn it, I don't know!" Joren said. He shook his fist. "But they are going to pay, oh yes, they are going to pay…"
Keladry shook her head. She couldn't stand much more profanity. Not to mention-- the innkeeper was probably going to throw them out since they were so loud. She quietly slipped out unnoticed and went back to her room. She agreed with them. They had to do something about it. But ranting and raving mindlessly wasn't going to do anything. She had to get on the search for the Street Pirates' hideout.
Back in the garage, Cleon and Joren sat on the ground facing each other. They had temporarily forgotten their dislike for each other. With flecks of insanity in their eyes, they eagerly began to map out a plan to get their prized possessions back. Just as Cleon started to make of list of ways to torture the thieves, they heard a scream.
"That's Keladry!" Cleon gasped. The two men sprung to their feet and raced over to their partner's room. The door was wide open, and there she was, holding one of her duffel bags open, gasping.
She looked up when they came in and pointed angrily to the bag. For a few moments, she was speechless-- closing and opening her mouth with no sounds coming out. Finally, she found her voice and uncharacteristically shrieked:
"THOSE PERVERTS STOLE MY UNDERWEAR!"
Utter silence.
Cleon started to tilt his head back in fear that he would contract a nosebleed. His face was already red from yelling, but turned even a deeper shade of red at the awkward subject. Joren, however, showed no real change except that his expression was frozen where it had been before, furious and belligerent.
Keladry wrung her hands in embarrassment. "I… I can't believe they took…all of it."
"Uh…" Cleon started nervously. "I definitely think we have reason to drop everything we're doing and go after the Street Pirates now."
"Stop tilting your head back," she ordered with a faint blush. She knew why he was tilting back.
"I'd really rather not," he laughed nervously. "I'll just pinch it for a few minutes, 'kay?"
~~
A young man, around the age of 23, with dark hair and a dashing sort of appearance, whistled in content. His warm brown eyes examined and re-examined the guns he and his friends had swiped.
"Well, look at this!" he grinned, tossing the gun from hand to hand. He expertly holstered it and drew it again like a quickdraw in the ancient movies he saw once. He chuckled and put it away, taking inventory on the rest of the stolen possessions. A few other men were seated around him. Smoke wafted up from eastern cigarettes. The warehouse was lit by one old-fashioned light bulb hanging on a thin chain from the relatively low ceiling. The other lights were off since they did not want to attract attention from outside. Crates and forklifts lined the walls of the warehouse and other tables and chalkboards occupied the space in the center.
"That's mighty fine," another older man commented. He was in his early thirties with a scar over his left eye and a cigarette hanging out the edge of his mouth. "Why don't you put your new toys away and come join in. We need a forth for poker."
"Not yet," the young man said gleefully and walked over to the Black Knight Custom X40. He ran one finger over the polished bike and held it up to the light. "Perfect. Not one speck of dust or dirt." Then he saddled it, getting a feel for the handlebars and the windshield. "This baby is unbelievable."
"Should we leave the two of you alone?" another man called out. Laughter echoed around.
The young man shrugged. "Well, hey, Morrison, this bike is worth more than…" he gave his friend a quick once over. "Well, more than your life!"
"Aww, yeah right!"
"No, I'm serious," the young man said and got off. "This is better than a Black Knight Custom. I mean, someone actually took the time to restore it to the very smallest detail and then improved upon it. Look at this engine for crying out loud!"
The man with the scar coughed before speaking. "Since when did you know all that grease monkey stuff?"
"Hey," the younger protested. "I don't. I just looked it up when I got back. And by the way," he glared at him. "It is not grease monkey stuff."
"Sure it isn't."
He then walked back over to the last of his new objects. He tossed a plastic bag full of women's undergarments onto the poker table, lifting a bra up to the light to demonstrate. "Let's move on to other matters, gentlemen. Now, I actually prefer women with," he paused, "lacy tastes if you know what I mean, but I guess this is nice enough."
"What color lace?" a man asked while shuffling cards and eyeing another bra in the bag.
"White."
"Oh, no, sonny. You're too young for this. Black is the only way to go."
"Right… I guess I should bow down to those with experience," he nodded. "Or lack thereof."
"Hey!"
"I'm joking!" He stroked his chin. "But I tell you what. What the girl lacks in taste, she makes up for in size. A nice C cup, don't you think?" He turned to the older men.
"No, no. That looks like a 38B. Trust me," the man called Morrison winked. "I should know!"
"Screw it!" the man with the scar lewdly laughed. "I want some double-D's!"
The rest of the men burst into raucous laughter. The young man took a seat. "I didn't know you were into altered physical appearances, Wilson."
The man named Wilson shrugged. "Not all of them are altered, but who cares if they are? They fit, and that's all that matters. Maybe if you're good and some kind girl pities you, you'll know what it's like, Faleron!"
They started laughing again. Faleron propped his feet up on the table. "Ha-ha. That's very funny, Wilson. Now let's get this game started, huh?"
They put the undergarments back in the bag and tossed it towards the bike.
~~
"Where the hell do I find them?" Joren demanded more than asked the bartender as he held him violently by his collar.
"Stop that! You're going to give him a heart attack!" Keladry scolded. She grabbed her partners arm and tugged him away from the aged man with the black handlebar mustache. He nervously moved away from the two officers, only to bump into Cleon who blocked his exit like a stone wall.
The man looked back and forth between the two sides. "I… I can't tell you anything. I don't want to get robbed!"
Keladry glared at Joren defiantly, coming between him and the bartender. She looked to the man sympathetically. "Don't worry, sir. We're with the DJPF."
He observed her clothing. "You don't look like it."
"Here, look at my ID," Keladry offered. "No one can fake our IDs."
"Okay, okay. I'll help you." The bartender glanced around to see if anyone was listening in on them. Then he licked his lips anxiously and whispered, "The East District is where their hideout is. That's all I know."
"Really?" Joren asked, clenching and unclenching his hands.
Panicked beyond control, the bartender hastily added. "They like to play poker right after a job. Don't ask me how I know! You'll just be able to get the jump on them before they reach their guns is all!"
"We appreciate your cooperation," Keladry said, patting him on the shoulder. Cleon and Joren, still seething with hatred for the thieves, walked out without a word. She rolled her eyes and followed them. Just as she reached the door, she tossed two Nobles at the bartender and then left.
The three officers drove down to the East District, parking in a secluded spot. From there, they took what weapons they had and proceeded to the supposedly empty buildings one by one.
"Is there any sort of plan at all?" Keladry asked.
"No," Joren replied.
"Just bust in there and see what happens," Cleon nodded.
She blinked. "That's it?"
"Pretty much," they both answered in unison.
~~
Faleron was losing-- by a lot. He realized he didn't have any money left, but no one had to know that. Now, if he could just make this next one with his hand-- he had a Straight-- he could possibly get by. By most standards, he had a pretty good poker face. As for being a good poker player, well that was something undecided.
"I fold," he heard Morrison say. Now it was his turn…
There were too gunshots from behind. They hit the crates beside the table. The thieves leapt up from their chairs, reaching for their guns when a voice from the shadows called out.
"Don't move or I swear I'll empty three clips into each of you."
"You can't do that!"
"Yes, I can. They stole my bike. And your guns, dolt."
"But I want to shoot them!"
"Neither of you can!" a feminine voice broke into the conversation. Faleron squinted. HE couldn't see the owners of the voices, but he desperately wanted to find out. He moved an inch forward and--
"Freeze, pal. Stay right there with your hands up! All of you! We're busting you for grand theft." A man Faleron's age stepped out of the shadow with a Desert Eagle in each hand. A redhead joined him, holding another gun, and the female was left with an energy glaive. They all wore the field uniforms of DJPF.
"Look at all this stuff!" The redhead exclaimed. "I can't believe they've gotten away with it for so long. And it was so easy to find them!"
"Calm down, rookie," the blonde man ordered. "Keep your eye trained on each one of these thieves."
"Oh, shit," Wilson muttered. "We're in for it now."
Morrison sneered. "Someone in Rogue Bay squealed on us. We ought to take care of that."
Faleron nodded. "But we got to take care of these goody-two shoes first." He smiled sweetly at Keladry. "Excuse me, Miss? But why has the DJPF suddenly chosen now to bust us? The DJPF never cared before…"
"Well, you stole my damn bike," Joren spat. "And that's cause enough for me to kill you, regardless of my being under the duties of DJPF." He took a step forward and said in a very calm voice, "If you scratched her, I'm going to rip your head off."
"Stone!" Keladry warned.
"Oh, come on," Cleon whined. "Don't tell me you're not furious with them. They stole your…your underwear!"
Faleron turned his head slightly to the card dealer. "You were right. C cup."
Keladry visibly blushed and awkwardly closed her arms in over her chest while holding the energy glaive.
"Cuff them," Joren ordered. Cleon holstered his gun and took out some cuffs. He approached Faleron first.
Faleron's mind was going a mile a minute. He was known for his great reaction time. He could calculate the possibilities of almost any situation within a split second and respond accordingly. It usually got him out of trouble. Now was the time to test this skill again. He quickly assessed that with the redhead going to cuff him, that left the blonde guy with the two guns, and the girl with the energy glaive. Energy glaives worked best when in range. So, therefore, he would make sure to be out of range. And the blonde obviously couldn't shoot his partner. Therefore, Cleon was now going to be Faleron's new shield.
As Cleon neared, seemingly unaware of Faleron's motives, the expert thief darted forward within the blink of an eye and grabbed Cleon's gun. Then he kneed the redhead in the stomach and turned him around to act as his shield. He pressed the barrel of the gun against his hostage's temples.
"Back off!" he warned the remaining too officers, now overcome with surprise at what had just happened. The male officer seemed a bit calmer, as if he'd been in the situation before. The thief made a mental note to watch out for him.
"Faleron! Careful, man!" one of his friends said and drew their guns.
"Drop it, officers," Faleron ordered. Keladry immediately collapsed her energy glaive and set it on the ground slowly. Joren stared at him for a few seconds with a scowl on his face, then also bent over to set his down. As he was doing this, Faleron and his friends started to back away, Cleon still being held hostage.
"I can't believe this!" Cleon cried.
"Shut up!" Faleron pressed the gun barrel even harder to his head. He looked over to Joren. "What's taking you so long, huh? Set the gun down!" The sweat was now building on his body. This was too much for a guy who just wanted to play some poker on a Monday night-- even if he had a cool, calculating mind. Nothing could really much handle fear and anxiety.
And then, it went dark.
All within five seconds, Joren jerked his hand just as the gun touched the floor. The light above them was shot out in a burst of sparks, plunging them into darkness. Shots went off. Screams of wounded men were heard. There was a scuffle as they bumped into chairs, tables, and each other.
A streak of light through the shadows-- Keladry's energy glaive. She launched herself forward, first wrenching Cleon from Faleron and blinding the thief with her glaive's bright light. Then she swung it around and caught his companions by surprise.
"Ah!" a man screamed as he got burned in the shoulder by the strange weapon. He fell out of the small range of light to the floor and lay there moaning. Joren took this time to knock those men out that Keladry encountered with her lit pole arm. Cleon cursed endlessly, complaining about his headache and wrestling with the youngest thief. The gun was grappled for, then tossed away by a swift uppercut.
"You're going to pay for that!"
"Dream on, man!" Faleron kneed him in the stomach for the second time, then threw a swift punch to Cleon's lower jaw. The fist connected and Cleon was knocked away. He jumped away and rolled across the ground. Then he remained still.
In the pitch-black warehouse, Keladry was the only person with any source of light. Unfortunately, the energy glaive was not meant for illumination, and only went out a foot in range. Cleon, Joren, and Faleron-- the only others left conscious, were frozen where they were. They could not see. Only hear and feel.
Each man tried to listen to his own breathing, tried to slow his pounding heart to no avail. Faleron gulped. Then…
Click.
The light came back on when Keladry had found another light bulb and yanked the chain to turn it on. She collapsed her energy glaive and put it back on her belt. Then she retrieved the nine-millimeter she had loaned Cleon and rose to meet the new situation.
Joren stood with both guns aimed at the unconscious thieves. He wouldn't take any chances. Jerked his head toward the overturned table and then to his bike. "Go secure our stuff, would you?"
She nodded and jogged to the black motorcycle. "She's fine, Stone. No damage done."
He only nodded.
"You know, he could have shot Cleon when you went for the light bulb back there," she told him.
"Oh well. A necessary risk."
"Right…"
Faleron licked his chapped lips, wiping the sweat off his brow and standing calmly in front of Cleon. He crossed his eyes slightly to look at the gun barrel pressed to his forehead. He smiled and said in a very unfazed voice. "So! I see you have your guns back…"
~~
Author: Well, you demanded it, so here it is. A special note to Angel Sakura: I've been putting off finishing FF8 to write this, and it is one of the many, many things that inspired the series. If someone wants to get picky (I'm not talking about you of course) than here's a disclaimer: FF8 belongs to Squaresoft, not mine, etc. too bad because I love Seifer's Hyperion symbol… and the gunblade, too.
Closing Credits:
Special thanks to those who helped me with descriptions:
(Note: these people are VERY cool. Do not mess with them.)
Kestrel
Erin (Hyper Girl to the Rescue)
Sullychkk (Whose name is Caitie…)
And also to the people who volunteered to help with my web page:
FireLily
Jaelawyn Noble
And if anyone is good with fixing web pages, please e-mail me. My e-mail is listed at top.
AND…
The pages for Character Statistics.
*Please note that these end with .htm and not .html due to some mistake upon my computer. I'll correct it someday.
http://www.geocities.com/silvrblade.geo/silverdragon/fanfics/futurekel.htm
http://www.geocities.com/silvrblade.geo/silverdragon/fanfics/futurejoren.htm
http://www.geocities.com/silvrblade.geo/silverdragon/fanfics/futureneal.htm
http://www.geocities.com/silvrblade.geo/silverdragon/fanfics/futureowen.htm
http://www.geocities.com/silvrblade.geo/silverdragon/fanfics/futurecleon.htm
And by the way, if Cleon's page pops up before the correct character's does, please ignore. Weird quirk I have to figure out, okay?