Summary: Video games are fun.
Crossover: NWN, Thief: The Dark Project
Disclaimer: I own... lets see... the remainder of my glass of beer.
Feedback: Shure! Omake also welcome!
Pre-fic Comments:
I honestly don't know whether to try out this group work thing for an assignment, or do it all on my own, damn the consequences. I hate working with other people. Then you get this horrible not-really-optimum interface issue.
Garret shook his head muzzily as he looked around. There was no way that he was still in the City, unless he'd gone to sleep for maybe a hundred years. He hated this nature stuff. Leaves tended to rustle, and branches tended to snap. Right when you didn't want them to.
Checking his armament briefly, he found that he only had his picks, his blackjack, his bow, and some broadhead arrows. No potions, no maps. More to the point, no contacts and no place to, say, live in. The worst part was that he had absolutely no money. Time to rectify that, he decided.
Garret decided to get to what looked to the more industrial part of town, with shops. Shops were good -- lots of easily stealable goods in a small area, typically.
He looked up at the sign of the first shop he came across. 'Ethan's Costume Shoppe.'
Well, Garret thought, every little bit helps.
Slipping silently through the door, he blessed the shopkeeper for dutifully oiling the door hinges. The master thief was slowed down for a moment when he saw the peculiar cash box, but his fingers somehow knew how to open it. He mentally filed that under 'to check out later', and quickly and quietly emptied the contents of the little compartments in the cash drawer into a leather bag. Judging by the money, he was pretty far gone from the City. Paper money... what next? At least it couldn't make clinking noises.
Garret's head shot up as he heard footsteps from behind the curtain at the back of the shop, slowly crouching to minimize his exposure. He quietly moved towards the door, shutting it behind him.
Okay, Garret thought to himself, I've got money. Knowing my luck, it's probably enough to buy me a loaf of bread and a glass of water. Now to find somewhere to live.
Taverns were good. You met all sorts of interesting people at taverns, in Garret's experience. Especially really dirty ones. Like people willing to sell cheap accomodation, and wishing to hire thieves.
Willow sighed. This was getting old, fast.
"Come on!," she implored. "You've got to believe me! We have to get to the Library -- Giles will know what to do!"
"I-I am going nowhere without a proper escort!," the semi-panicking lady gasped. "Is, is this Giles a scholar, a monk?"
"Ahhhh... sure," Willow said. "Ah! Cordelia! You're not a cat, you're Cordelia."
"What's your braindamage, Rosenberg?," Queen C snapped. "And why are we out on the street?"
"I am going nowhere," the Lady said imperiously. "Especially not with lowborn whores such as yourselves!"
Willow scowled, and waved an arm through Buffy again. The Lady screamed a bit. "GET MOVING, OR I'LL HAUNT YOU TO YOUR DEATH!"
Willow had quite a long fuse, and it had just burned out.
Willy looked up from the dirty glass he was rearranging the dirt on, as a thud announced activity. He sighed as he spotted the bouncer demon on the floor -- it was relatively normal looking, save it's lack of a mouth.
"Aw, man, why'd ya have to do that?," Willy moaned. "Now he's gonna want extra cash."
The black clothed man walking over the demon smiled, as he put his black iron weapon away. His mouth was the only part of his face that the hood didn't hide in shadow. "Taxation on stupidity, I'm afraid."
"What can I get ya?," Willy asked easily. "And that'll be a twenty on top of that for the bouncer."
Garret shrugged. Easy come, easy go. He threw a piece of paper with a '20' on it to the bar top, pulling up a stool. "A beer. Hey, anyone got a room to rent at the moment?"
"I think Buzz does. Over on Victoria Av."
"Thanks. Got a map I could have?"
"Sure, for two bucks."
The beer and the map were slid over to Garret, who slid some cash back.
He sipped it once, then put it back down. "This tastes like cat piss."
"Hey," Willy said, offended. "There're some people who'd pay top dollar for that beer."
True, they weren't human.
"I guess," Garret shrugged. "Man, looks like there're a lot of rich people in this town."
"Oh yeah," Willy nodded, glum. "And they don't share with any of us, neither. Man, we're just trying to get along and they keep jumping up and down on our rights."
The insults to Willy's merchandise were superceded by the chance for mutual bitching at Authority.
"It's like that everywhere," Garret said, trying to get the bartender to open up more. "Who's the worst here?"
"Goddamn Mayor if you ask me, and I never said that either," Willy hissed to Garret.
"I hear you," Garret said. "Here's another twenty for your troubles."
You had to put something in to get something out, was Garret's reasoning. Willy continued talking.
"And those Chases, too, on Fitzherbert Avenue. Showing off their diamond jewelry like they're better than us..."
Garret tuned out the complaints, adding the Chases to a mental list.
"Our house got burgled last night," Cordelia complained, at length. "Some scum stole my mother's jewelry, and all mine too. My God, it's like the Devil himself wants me to look bad!"
"Heaven forbid," Xander quipped, thinking of the sack of gold and diamonds sitting beneath his bed. "Hey, at least whoever it was had good taste."
Right by his blackjack and dark clothes, sitting on top of his bag of money taken from Ethan Rayne.