(A/n: translations are from web sites. It'll be that way for the rest of
the story, just work w/ the bad ones. K?)
San Juan, Puerto Rico
"Now let's see here," thought the pickpocket to herself, her hands poised at her sides, cool sweat already condensing on her forehead, "who have we got here?" she studied the tourists at the airport each one looking easier then the last, fat mainland Americans coming from as far as Wyoming for sun. They needed it. They looked so pail. She laughed to herself at there failing Spanish, similarly to how a Cajun would laugh at horrific French. (Since she was American like them only bi-lingual and didn't butcher every language in the world.) Then he caught her eye. A tall, thin man dressed in green carrying a letter in one hand and a teenage boy's wrist in the other. His leather wallet stuck out of his back pocket, just begging to be taken away.
Vika Parpadee studied her pray as he walked down the white halls past souvenir stands and bathrooms. Spanish instructions came over the loud speaker, she didn't stop to listen, she only followed the man and his kid. Vika looked out from under her sunglasses, careful not to blink. If she did, something horrible was liable to happen. Something horrible always did. For some reason the glass in her sunglasses deflected the.the.her mutant ability. She causally approached him, as he stood on line for a flight to JFK in New York. Slowly her hand moved toward the pocket. Slowly. Until.
"Gocha!" she thought.
"Hey!" said the man turning around his eyes narrowed. She looked up at him for a few seconds before tearing off down the hall. The man followed her. She nearly knocked over several people in her hurry and actually took off her sunglasses blinking and causing a near by Burger King's hamburgers to explode. She knocked over three tables, two with her eyes. Before racing down to the entrance of the airport. Then she felt a large hand wrap around her wrist. Slowly she turned to be face to face with the man she had taken the wallet from. She gulped softly and but a smile crossed over his face. "You ran away so fast you didn't take your letter." He said handing her an envelope.
"You don' want your wallet back señor?" she asked in disbelief.
"There's nothing in it." He said cheerfully handing her the letter and letting go of her wrist, before she could say anything he was gone. And only she stood there. She opened the letter and a first class plane ticket fell out.
San Juan, Puerto Rico
"Now let's see here," thought the pickpocket to herself, her hands poised at her sides, cool sweat already condensing on her forehead, "who have we got here?" she studied the tourists at the airport each one looking easier then the last, fat mainland Americans coming from as far as Wyoming for sun. They needed it. They looked so pail. She laughed to herself at there failing Spanish, similarly to how a Cajun would laugh at horrific French. (Since she was American like them only bi-lingual and didn't butcher every language in the world.) Then he caught her eye. A tall, thin man dressed in green carrying a letter in one hand and a teenage boy's wrist in the other. His leather wallet stuck out of his back pocket, just begging to be taken away.
Vika Parpadee studied her pray as he walked down the white halls past souvenir stands and bathrooms. Spanish instructions came over the loud speaker, she didn't stop to listen, she only followed the man and his kid. Vika looked out from under her sunglasses, careful not to blink. If she did, something horrible was liable to happen. Something horrible always did. For some reason the glass in her sunglasses deflected the.the.her mutant ability. She causally approached him, as he stood on line for a flight to JFK in New York. Slowly her hand moved toward the pocket. Slowly. Until.
"Gocha!" she thought.
"Hey!" said the man turning around his eyes narrowed. She looked up at him for a few seconds before tearing off down the hall. The man followed her. She nearly knocked over several people in her hurry and actually took off her sunglasses blinking and causing a near by Burger King's hamburgers to explode. She knocked over three tables, two with her eyes. Before racing down to the entrance of the airport. Then she felt a large hand wrap around her wrist. Slowly she turned to be face to face with the man she had taken the wallet from. She gulped softly and but a smile crossed over his face. "You ran away so fast you didn't take your letter." He said handing her an envelope.
"You don' want your wallet back señor?" she asked in disbelief.
"There's nothing in it." He said cheerfully handing her the letter and letting go of her wrist, before she could say anything he was gone. And only she stood there. She opened the letter and a first class plane ticket fell out.