Holy damned disclaimers!
Fancy that-I still don't own Rockman. Bwah.
Chapter Four: Preferably Now
Raiden paged slowly through the Arts & Entertainment section of the Thursday newspaper, repositioning his rear on the cold pavement and his back on the frigid streetlight pole. The floodlight-bathed old-style analog clock, which he occasionally twisted around to check, read 8:23 PM. The somewhere-south-of-0 degrees Fahrenheit temperature had driven almost every sane person indoors, leaving the young robot virtually alone on the corner of Jordan Street and Hudson Avenue. That was exactly the way Raiden wanted it: very few people were around to try and stop him.
He peered over the top of his paper, searching out suitable prey. There, coming down Hudson toward him-a tall, slim, middle-aged woman with a tiny white puffball of a dog trotting alongside. That mongrel would pose absolutely no problem, of course. The black leather purse she had with her would be easy enough to grab and run with. To top it all off, the way she was dressed screamed that she was loaded.
She got most of the way around the corner but was yanked back by the dog, who wished to closely examine the boy whose nose was buried in the paper. Raiden absently gave the creature a good scratch behind the ears. The woman shot him a quick 'aren't you such a good boy' kind of smile and tugged the dog along. He quietly put the paper down beside him, staring hard at a pair of hands that were slowly turning blue from the cold.
I can't do this. Stealing from women? That would make me no better than Forte.
Who cares? People with fat wallets keep me alive. I need whatever's in that purse way more than she does.
Yes, I realize stealing is all I can do right now. But why her? Why not pick on somebody capable of giving me a fair fight?
Because she's right here and that dog's damn well asking for it. If I don't get moving now, I'll lose her.
Raiden got up reluctantly, leaving the A&E section next to the pole. His back groaned silently and proceeded to cramp up after taking such a load while leaning against the cold steel post. He rubbed the small of his back half-heartedly, watching the woman. She had stopped at the next street over, waiting for the light to change and let her cross.
The fifteen-yard journey war far quicker than he expected. Within ten seconds he was right behind her, eyes fixed on the purse. The north-south light turned yellow; it was now or never.
Preferably now.
He grabbed a hold of the purse and pulled with everything he had, snapping the bag right off the strap flung over her shoulder. An instant later she turned roughly but Raiden was already haring off towards an alley, which would be a good deal safer than the open street. With yells of "hey, thief!" ringing loudly within his skull he dashed into the deep darkness of the sidestreet only the three-quarter moon overhead lit up.
A few strides in Raiden came face-to-face with a brick wall, effectively blocking his escape. Tipping back his head, he realized with a moan and a curse that it was a good six or seven stories high, way out of his jumping range. The sharp click-click of stilettos on pavement told him that if he dawdled about for much longer he'd be caught and that would be the end of his wonderful freedom.
The woman came racing down the alley, stopping short at the wall and glancing around in confusion. On a sudden whim she looked up, mouth falling open as she saw the purse-thief performing a humanly impossible set of wall jumps between the left and right buildings. With a final, apologetic wave he disappeared onto the left roof.
She closed her mouth slowly, shook her head in disbelief and went back the way she had come.
The contents of the purse spilled across the rooftop. Raiden sat back on his haunches and sorted through it with one hand. Lipstick, address book, cell phone, Kleenex, nail polish, wallet. He picked this last item up, opening it and automatically delving into the cash pocket. With a mixture of joy and guilt he counted out the bills. 6000...7000...10, 700...12, 200 zenny total. Only the small change pocket held anything else of value (65 zenny in coin); the first thing that woman would do when she got home was cancel all of her credit cards. But there was no way to void zenny, so he could do what he wanted with that.
Stuffing almost everything back into the purse, he tossed the black bag to the side and tucked the wallet into his pocket. A productive night, to say the very least-twelve thousand zenny would be enough to last him for three weeks, provided he stick to his diet of coffee and whatever happened to be the cheapest at where he chose to eat. He had developed a habit of switching eateries every meal to prevent people from matching his face to the description of the boy who had robbed the old man early yesterday morning.
"HEY!"
With a surprised yell, Raiden was suddenly pushed forward. A hand swiftly inserted itself into his pocket and pulled out the wallet. Raiden scrambled onto his hands and knees, kicking out blindly with one foot. His heel met something soft and fleshy, which emitted a pained grunt and shied away. He leaped to his feet and spun around furiously, instinctively calling a good dose of electricity from his internal storage block to his hands. His attacker looked only a bit older than the Wilybot and was humanoid in shape, with the exception of a pair of large metal blade-covered wings. The boy looked amazed at Raiden's swift recovery and snapped in his wings as he got up, tensing his legs much like the robot did when he was preparing for a jump. Realizing he was setting up for an escape, Raiden flipped a tiny switch on the inside of his wrist.
There was a quiet 'shing!' as a horizontal pole of white light materialized in front of him and caught it as gravity dragged it toward the ground. Just like him, Raiden's weapon had been constructed from parts that belonged to many different robots; his staff, which he had lovingly nicknamed the Triple Spear, was essentially Enker's lance with a coat of navy paint and a silver version of Tengu Man's blades on top. Raiden's only gripe about the weapon was that Forte had always laughed that him calling it up looked like a scene straight out of Cardcaptor Sakura.
He darted forward just as the winged boy launched himself skyward, one arm shooting up and snatching an ankle. Quickly losing the sensation of the roof under his feet he swung the Triple Spear up in a wide arc and buried one blade deep into the side of the boy's knee. He roared in agony and lost his aerial balance, plummeting back down and dragging Raiden along with him. The nimble Wilybot dove out of the way a quarter of a second before he was soundly squashed by the falling boy's back, which crashed hard into the hard cement of the flat roof. Doubling back, Raiden heaved the staff out of his leg.
The Robot Master stood next to his fallen opponent, the rightmost point of the Triple Spear hovering just over the winged boy's throat. Frightened green eyes met furious silver ones. Raising the Triple Spear high into the air, he turned it around until the top blade was pointing down and let it fall.
The boy jerked his head away, waiting for the horrible explosion of pain in his chest. It never came. Instead he felt a small jolt run down his left wing and travel through his body. Slowly he brought his face back around to see what Raiden had done and saw that the Triple Spear was still quivering from its forceful embedding in the middle of the boy's wing. The robot folded his arms.
"Give it back."
The boy miserably extracted the wallet from the pocket of his spring jacket, his fingers clenched protectively around it as he held it out. Raiden took swift aim, kicking both the back of the boy's hand and the wallet. The latter sailed through the air, only to be grabbed roughly in mid-flight. Raiden stowed it in his back pocket.
"You have exactly five seconds to tell me who you are before I blow the First Law of Robotics entirely and slice your head off."
"I...I don't have to tell you anything. Lemme go."
Raiden killed the flow of electricity and viciously slammed his foot down on the offender's chest, forcing out a breathless squeak of shock. Ripping the staff out of his wing, he leaned one of the blades against his forehead. "Yes, you do. And no."
"You'll be sorry if you knock me off!" He half-yelled, eyes bulging. "My friends'll find you and make sure you die slow!"
Raiden grinned cruelly and applied a small amount of pressure to the Triple Spear, a narrow red line forming on the boy's skin. "Friends, huh? And just who might they be? Happen to have anything to do with... this ?" He cast around in the front pocket of his jeans and pulled out the triangular emblem he had found two days ago, waving it in the air over his prisoner's face.
"What if I am, bit-chhhhhhh!"
He gasped and clawed at his throat, where the sharp edge of Raiden's weapon bit into his skin.
"Never," he growled in a deep tone that reminded him horrible of Forte's, "ever call me a bitch."
"I'll call you what I like, bitch!"
Then things all happened very fast.
The boy grabbed thetitanium shaft of the Triple Spear and pushed it away from him, cracking Raiden smartly under the jaw. The robot stumbled backwards in surprise, his staff slipping out of his hand and clattering against the roof. The winged boy was up in a second, hurling himself into Raiden and sweeping him off his feet. The full realization of what was happening hit the Robot Master like a bolt of lightning and he acquainted his attacker's face with his fist, digging his toes into his stomach and flipping him head-over-heels onto his back.
But the boy wasn't down yet. Rocketing to his feet and brushing the blood away from the corner of his mouth, he snatched two blades off each wing. Taking care to keep them away from himself, he flung them at a dazed and enraged Raiden. The robot saw the moonlight-bathed knives just in time to heave his entire body out of the way of the first. He knocked the second down with his Triple Spear, angling himself so that the third whizzed past his ear. But the last one was just a bit too quick for him and buried himself deep into his shoulder.
The boy started, obviously never having somebody block the majority of that particular attack before. Then, he whirled and sped off across the rooftop, snapping his damaged wings open and barely managing to soar over an alleyway. Raiden didn't try to follow, holding his injured shoulder and watching as the boy fled southwest.
You run, he thought darkly, poking at the switch on his wrist and dismissing his Triple Spear. You tell your friends. But if they get in my way I hope they don't treat me the same way you did, Bladewing. Or I might just have to get nasty.
He patted his back pocket, then stopped. He had been so intent on the butt of the Triple Spear nearly breaking his synthetic jaw that his attention had departed from the pilfered wallet entirely. An expression of horror spread across his face as he realized he'd been had.
"BITCH!"