Oceanera12 : Hey, y'all! So this next chapter is going to be a little different. And when I say a little different… I mean I don't know how different it is actually going to be. I know, I'm not making a lot of sense so let me explain. This chapter and its characters were planned and drafted up by my co-writer. Not me. Meaning, I don't exactly know what to do with this. Usually, I type up most of the chapter with Halo editing my grammar stuff and then adding a few of her own sentences and comments. But since this is mostly her stuff, I decided, 'Hey, let's have Halo take a chapter over.' And if it goes over well, then maybe we'll do it again sometime. Hope you enjoy, and I'll see you at the end of the page.

So without further ado, take it from here, Halo!

HaloEssence111: That's right, people, you heard it! Halo's taking over this chapter! Prepare for a bizarre sense of humor that will both shock, bewilder, and enlighten you, all at the same time! (Or at least that's what my friends tell me. Go figure.)

BTW, just a note- all my remarks will be in italics, while Era's are in normal script.

And with me taking over this chapter, that also means that I will be responding to comments this time!

Gwencarson126: Yes, yes he is.

Agent BM: Glad to hear it.

Juancastri11: I'm sorry to hear that you hate Manic. Hopefully this next chapter will sway your opinion of him somewhat.

Quantum27: I'm hungry too. Got any chips?

Wafflesbelike-NYANCAT: Ha! That's what I'd do, too. Great minds think alike, am I right?

Echo Spectre: Let me just say this right now- I LOVE YOUR AVATAR PICTURE. Fellow Fallers, unite!

Onward!

Matthew's POV:

'We now return to… (drumroll, please…)

The Pickpocketing Adventures of Matthews "Maniac" Hedgehog, Thief Extraordinaire!Single file line, please. No flash photography.

Our hero sits in the abode of his friend and colleague, Curtis Shephard. They are in the middle of a riveting session of hand-eye coordination exercises-'

"Dude, watch out! Shoot the alien, man! Shoot it!"

'Okay, they were playing video games in Curtis's living room. Scuse me if I feel like using some poetic licence every once in awhile. But ANYWAY, the Clever and Highly Skilled Maniac was totally kicking Curtis's butt and shooting aliens left and right. He went in for the final blow to the alien queen…'

"Game Over."

"Aw, WHAT?"

'And then Curtis cheated. Probably.'

"Aw, dude, I totally owned you!" laughed Curtis. "You lost hard, man!"

"Yeah, whatever.

'Jerk.'

I got up off the worn out couch and walked over to the kitchen. I searched around Curtis's fridge and found a can of grape soda. Popping it open, I took swig of the fizzy grape goodness. That's right, Matthews. Wash away the shame.

I drained the can and tossed it into the trash can. Grabbing another, I re-entered the living room, expecting to see Curtis starting another game. Instead he was on the phone, a serious expression on his face.

"...Right now? You sure about that?... It's legit this time, right?... I dunno, Ricky's 'hot tips' ain't always for sure. Remember the Anderson heist?... Hey man, whatever you say. ...Gotcha. We'll be right over." Curtis hung up and slipped his phone his back jeans pocket.

"What's up?" I asked.

"We gotta head over to Mitch's place. Rick got a tip off from a buddy about a potential mark."

"Is it like his last tip off?" I asked, rolling my eyes. "'Cause I've got a date this weekend, and I don't think she'll find the prison cafeteria very romantic."

"Yeah I know, but still, we'd better get on over there. He sounded pretty serious this time." He grabbed his wallet off the counter and stuck it in his pocket. I slung my knapsack over my back and we walked out of his apartment down to his beat up Camry parked on the side of the street.

The duo rocketed down the street at top speed. They were desperately needed at Agent Mitch's headquarters downtown. He had received word of a plan that was sure to change their lives forever…

Curtis parked in front of a run-down beige one story. We had traveled even deeper into the ghetto neighborhoods, and all around me were piles of assorted garbage, rusty vehicles, and people I wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley. But all that was pretty easy to ignore; this was home, after all.

We rang the doorbell to Mitch's house and in a matter of moments it swung open. Mitch was smirking slyly, and he hurriedly shooed us inside, poking his head outside to see if we were being watched. The coast was clear, and he slammed the door, deadbolting it shut. About four or five guys sat in the front room, chatting quietly.

Okay, let me hit the pause button right here.

So here's the deal- As you probably already know, I belong to a gang, the Elise Street Strikers. And I know what you're thinking, and no, getting into a gang does not involve selling your soul to the devil. See, we deal with black market products. You know, selling folks things they couldn't find legally (no, not drugs. Sheesh.). Ferrell's got this nifty little pawn shop right in the downtown area. Sure, we've got your run-of-the-mill jewelry and busted up cars and stuff like that, but if you've got the cash and the right connections, there's some pretty good junk we can deal you.

Since I joined (it's been, what, six years now?), my job's been pretty simple: steal what they tell me to steal and try not to get killed or caught. Can't say that I've been too successful at that last bit- I've got an entire file cabinet to myself down at the station. But hey, I haven't been brutally murdered or sentenced to death row yet, so I call that an unqualified success.

Oh yeah, you're probably wondering who these guys I hang around with are. Where are my manners?

You've already met Curtis. He's twenty-one, a full five years older than me, and my best friend. He's the guy who found me on the streets and saw my potential. Curtis is pretty chill- he almost never panics or gets caught doing anything illegal. Heck, most of the times he's visited the slammer it's been my fault, as much as I hate to say it. But he forgives me. Eventually.

I learned a few of my best fighting moves from Curtis. He usually uses this splintery old wood baseball bat as his weapon of choice, which earned him the nickname 'Slugger' a couple years back during a gang fight, courtesy of yours truly. It helps that he's got a pretty good build for his age and wears a pair of brass knuckles on both fists at all times. But as scary as he can be when he's bashing in heads, he's a pretty cool guy to hang around with. And even with me being the youngest member of the gang, he never treats me like a kid.

Unfortunately, I can't say the same for everyone else, especially not Gabe Larson (we call him 'Left Hook'. You can probably guess why). He's a twenty-two-year-old black and brown lynx who can take a hit but not a joke. Gabe has short, scruffy black hair with a cowlick in the back, and he has a scar across his left cheek made by an old rival. He's what I call a musclehead- one of those guys who spends every waking moment working out. Gabe's a boxer over at the gym, and one of the best fighters in the gang. He's not a bad salesman either (Ferrell mostly has him making deals at the pawn shop), but he takes everything way too seriously for my taste. Gabe thinks I'm a tagalong and a kid, even though I've covered for him more than once when he gets in a tight spot. The only reasons he hasn't tried to get me kicked out of the gang is because one, I know too much, and two, I'm the best thief these guys got. But that doesn't mean he won't won't try to sell me out someday, I can feel it.

There's one guy though that, besides Curtis, he's the only one that I know for a fact will never sell me or anyone else out. That's Mitch Davis, resident getaway car driver and one of the most loyal guys I know. Tall, lean, and blond, he's a nineteen-year-old coyote with a reputation for two things- blaring terrible surf music while breaking traffic laws and keeping things secret. I remember a couple of years ago, a rival gang of ours took Mitch hostage for a few days and tried to get him to squeal on the whereabouts of a fellow Striker member. They almost killed him trying to get him to talk, but he never said a word. I respect that. Mitch's specialty is cars. He can lift a hubcap quicker and more quietly than anyone else in the neighborhood, but he also knows cars inside out and backwards and can drive anything on wheels.

And then there's his brother Rick. He's two years older than Mitch and it shows; the dude looks about thirty. He's always got these dark circles under his bloodshot eyes and his face sags. Gonna take a shot in the dark here and guess that that might have something to do with his weed addiction. For Chaos' sake, the guy can't stop smoking. I don't see how he stands the stuff. He tried to get me to try some once when I was thirteen, and I nearly barfed up my pancreas. But he's pretty slick when it comes to making heists successful- most of the time. He once set up a car theft operation that got me and four other guys thrown in the clink (I got out in three months for 'good behavior'- it took everyone else another four. Go figure).

One of those guys that got caught along with me was Tony Moretti, a twenty-one-year-old echidna and a good friend of Curtis's. Tony's got a pretty good build and dreadlocks that he keeps short and spiky, and is never without a bandana to tie around his forehead. He acts as sort of the tracker for us- meaning, he scopes out the mark and sees if it's clear to go through with the job. He's perfect at what he does because he can be the life of the party one moment, and just an average joe the next. The guy's gained more classified information than any of us, just by being in the right place at the right time. He's not a real smooth talker, though- he once tried to convince a cop not to arrest him and got an extra three and a half weeks added to his sentence. Amateur. But as dissuasive as Tony is around the officers, he's pretty sharp with the ladies.

But still, he's not even close to the skills of Randall Sanders, a twenty-year-old light gray rabbit with near-supernatural flirting capabilities. Seriously, I don't know how he does it; girls flock to him like a bug to an electric lamp. Most people call him 'Ears', seeing as, for reasons beyond even my knowledge, one of his ears is almost completely chewed off. Maybe a cat did it, maybe an overly zealous rival. It's one of life's many mysteries that I'd prefer not to know the answer to.

And I know what you're thinking- 'Is this some sort of boys-only club, or are you guys just really bad at maintaining steady relationships?'

Well, I'll thank you to keep your thoughts to yourself. Of course there's girls in the gang. I'm not gonna name all of them (they come and go mostly- but these are the ones that've stuck around the longest.).

First up is Lola Lynx. She's a real pretty dark reddish-brown lynx with these big amber eyes and long curly hair. I'd like her a lot if she didn't look like a walking makeup advertisement. But she's an okay fighter and is willing to flirt with just about anyone to help out the gang, but you'd never know it because she's the poster child for faithfulness when it comes to Gabe, her long-time boyfriend. Dunno what she sees in him, but hey, whatever.

Her best friend, Keisha Dallas, is the type of girl that gives this neighborhood a bad reputation. She's loud, she drinks, she smokes, she swears like a sailor, and her clothes should come with censor bars. The only good thing I can say about her is that she shoplifts like a pro and has scored us some pretty valuable junk over the years.

And then we have Mindy Whiskers.

ARRRGGH…

Okay. Explanation time.

See, Mindy and I… we used to go out. Not super seriously, just enough to be holding hands and kissing and stuff. We were a couple.

Well, not anymore.

I blame myself. The first time I met her an alarm went off in my head, but I couldn't figure out why. Now I know- the girl's a total gold digger. The only reason she even looked at me was because she knew I could get her anything she wanted, free of charge. And when my back's turned, Betty Bimbo's off making moves on some other poor sucker. I don't know why I didn't see it from the beginning. I mean, that's kinda my thing, reading into people's motives. I can't lie, though, she is pretty attractive; she's a gray mouse with a tiny frame and curves in all the right places, and these light purple eyes and long, soft hair. But I got smart and dumped her hard. Good riddance. Besides, there's plenty of other girls in the neighborhood to date.

Is that everyone?

Okay.

Back to the meeting. Shut up, I wanna listen.

I crashed on the ratty yellow couch, leaning back with my hands jammed in my pockets and staring up at the ceiling. Hey, how'd that stain get all the way up there? Oh wait, someone's talking. Focus, Matthews.

"Ricky, what's the deal bringing us all here?" grouched Gabe, standing off in the corner, his boxing gloves slung behind his back. "I've places to be, so make this quick." A few of the other members nodded in agreement, murmuring impatiently.

Rick was leaned against the crumbling whitewashed wall, smoking a cigarette and blowing smoke rings. Chaos, I hated that smell. He took one last puff and tossed the withered cigarette onto the crusty carpet, smothering it under his foot.

"So listen," he said slowly, wringing his hands and staring around the room, his bloodshot eyes darting from side to side. "I got this buddy, Keith… he says he knows about this real rich couple that just got hitched. They got this real nice place over near 8th Avenue, big penthouse suite, full of antiques and stuff, real valuable. They're planning the honeymoon for the end of August… gonna be gone for 'bout two weeks. Keith figures he knows how to bust the burglar alarm so we can raid the place. But he says he needs three or four guys to help him out. It's big house, and Keith wants his cut of the goods 'fore we pawn 'em off. Says he's got plans for 'em."

"Woah, woah, woah- hold up," Curtis interjected. "This 'Keith' guy- is he not coming or something?"

"Well… no."

"That's it! I'm out!" said Curtis, moving to leave. "I smell a rat and I ain't falling for it. And honestly? My rap sheet is long enough as it is. I don't need another misdemeanor on my record."

"Yeah man, this don't sound right," said Ears from the other side of the couch. "You expect us to to just follow a guy we don't even know into a potential one year sentence? Nuh-uh. Not happening." I had to agree with him. Until I could meet the guy face to face, I had no idea of what to think of Keith, and I hate not being in the know.

"Wait!" shouted Rick, sounding panicky. "I… I can talk to him. He'll come. I promise. He'll be there."

"Yeah? And what if he's not?" asked Curtis, crossing his arms.

"He will be there. Positive."

"Good. Cause if he ain't…" piped up Tony, lighting a cigarette and popping it in his mouth, "There's gonna be trouble."

Rick nodded and assured us several more times that yes, Keith would definitely be there and it would all work out. He seemed to be reassuring himself more than us, though. Out of curiosity, I tried to read him. I've always had trouble reading him, though (must be all the smoking clouding up his brain), but I could tell that he was feeling really, really, nervous.

I shrugged it off. Come on, this was Ricky we're talking about. He's cool. Probably just had a rough day or something.

"Are we done here?" interjected Gabe sourly. The group began to break up, heading for the door or quietly continuing their conversations. I stood up and picked up my worn out black knapsack and pulled it over one shoulder, ready to get going.

"Leaving so soon, Maniac?" asked Tony.

"Yup," I replied amiably.

"Need a ride? You can crash at my place," said Curtis.

"Nah. Thought I'd sleep under the stars. It's a beautiful night."

"Whatever. Later, Matt."

"Later, Slugger."

((Recommended Song: Family of Me- Ben Folds))

I opened the door, heading out into the quickly fading daylight. I breathed in the warm night air as I walked down the sidewalk away from the cluster of shabby townhouses. By the time I made it to the business district the sky was pitch black, the ground illuminated only by the flickering street lights. I hadn't eaten in a few hours, so I slipped into a small convenience store and lifted a few chocolate bars. I ate well that night.

I looked up at the cloudless night sky and shivered; I would have preferred it to be cloudy- it wouldn't be as cold that way. But no matter. I pulled out my black hoodie and slipped it on, covering my bright green spines with the hood. I walked the familiar route to the city park, stepping over pieces of broken glass bottles and pieces of trash. Beneath a towering maple tree was a small park bench, where I rolled out my sleeping bag and laid down, staring up at the sky.

Oh, and if you haven't figured it out by now, I'm homeless.

Honestly, it's not that big a deal. I don't freeze (except in the winter, where I usually crash at a buddy's house), and I definitely don't starve. There's no way I'd ever try to beg for a stranger's loose change, so you don't have to worry about me approaching you on the street to ask for cash or food or whatever. I'm lucky enough and skilled enough that I haven't been forced to beg since I was ten years old and freezing on the sidewalk.

Whatever. You can keep your sympathy. I'm used to looking out for number one. Go poke that nose of yours into someone else's business.

I shifted over onto my side and yawned. Time to wrap things up.

'Our hero relaxes on the not-particularly-comfortable park bench, unwinding after a long day of being awesome. While he should be residing in a luxury penthouse with a monkey butler and a bathroom sink that dispenses nacho cheese instead of boring tap water, you can't have everything in life.'

I shut my heavy eyelids and felt the familiar drifting feeling of sleep.

'We now conclude today's episode of "The Pickpocketing Adventures of Matthews "Maniac" Hedgehog, Thief Extraordinaire." Tune in next time for more action-packed adventures of the Brave and Charming Matthews Hedgehog.'

Aaand… cut.

And there you have it! Liked the chapter? Please say so in the comments section!

-HaloEssnce111

Oceanera12: …...Well that's one way to end a chapter. Hope you enjoyed Halo! Please say if you'd like her to take the steering wheel more often. Because of such a long update time passing, I will be posting the next two chapters today. So the next chapter is either already up or about to be up. Hope y'all enjoy!