Chapter 1

A figure in a grey jacket made their way with the crowd, keeping in step with a majority of the people. Their hood was up to cover their head and their hands in their pockets, seemingly to keep the mid-winter cold from giving them a chill. The figure slowed their pace until they were stopped in front of a vendor, the hood turning down a touch as the figured looked at the merchandise on the stand.

A hand moved to grab an apple on display as the other handed the money over to the owner of the stand. The hand previously holding the money returned to its pocket as the apple was raised to the hood. A distinct 'crunch' was heard as the figure bit into the skin of the apple.

A second passed before the figure continued their march with the crowd, occasionally tossing the apple into the air before taking another bite, leaving a fresh mark in the flesh of the fruit. One particular toss of the half eaten snack ended with it landing face down in the street, the one eating it having been bumped into and unable to catch it. The figure's shoulders seemed to slump as they realized their pocket felt lighter and their fruit was on the rather disgusting street. A small frown could be seen under the hood before the figure seemed to disappear, reappearing further down the street and a few stands in front of the one who robbed them. A simple adjustment of the figures weight from one foot to another left a heel kicked out just enough to trip the running thief. The thief stumbled and glared at the hood before taking off again.

The thief ran down a few streets before turning into an alley. They searched their pockets for all the goods they'd stolen and found a wallet and other goods missing. The wallet was one he was sure he'd stolen from the hooded figure. The figure that had somehow gotten in front of him and caused him to stumble. The thief frowned and went back to where they stumbled, only to be confronted by police the moment he stepped in front of the stand. The thief tried to deny everything until the officers checked his pockets, finding possessions that had been reported as stolen. The thief glared and looked around, trying to find a way out but froze when he saw the familiar hood across the street. The hooded figure was smirking - from what he could tell - and holding something. Upon closer inspection, it was the Hood's wallet and other things the thief had stolen. The thief drew the officer's attention toward the Hood but the person was already gone, having vanished with the next round of people walking by.

The hooded figure walked away with a smirk as they put their wallet back in their pocket and looked over the other things they had grabbed from the thief. A gold pocket watch, a leather wallet with some cash, a silver ring, and a pocket knife. Some good money and even a decent weapon.

The figure let out a quiet chuckle as they realized they ruined that man's chances of doing whatever it was he was going to do with the money and weapon. Probably buy a gun and rob a store considering how much was previously in his pockets. The figure felt almost proud that they'd caused an arrest before the real robbery had a chance of happening.

The figure turned down an alley, a smirk still playing on their lips. A call of "I saw that" drawing the figure to a halt, the smirk growing more amused. The smirk stayed as the lips moved to ask an innocent question; "Saw what?"

"Y'know, I thought you'd take more pity on the Rats," the male voice behind the hooded figure started. "Especially considering you were one, once upon a time."

Shuffling alerted the hooded figure to the fact that the speaker was walking closer to them. "You lose all sense of pity towards them when you realize the smallest ounce may find you dead in a dark alley the next morning." The hooded figure spoke as they turned around to face the other person.

The man in front of them was tall in comparison, about 6 foot, and wearing a black leather jacket. The man wore an orange hoodie under the black jacket but didn't allow the hood to cover his face like the other figure did. The man allowed his short golden hair to be seen by all as his single golden eye was known to watch people without them realizing, even if they were staring at him. The other eye was always covered by an eyepatch with a cartoon cross on it, the loss of an eye never stopping the man from smirking at others and showing amusement in the remaining eye.

The hooded figure knew exactly who the man was, a close friend that happened to know everything on everyone. If a person was murdered, this man knew before the police did. If a person was moving in or out, the golden man knew who they were and where they were going to be living before the moving company or neighbors did. A person in the entire city couldn't so much as look at their watch without this man knowing, sometimes ahead of time. If you ran on a schedule, that made the man's job all the easier.

That was Timcanpy.

Nobody knew his real name, where he came from, his family, his past. Nothing. Not even how he got the name he answers to now. The man was an anomaly. He wasn't a Rat - far too well off for that, you could tell from his cleanliness and clothes alone - and yet he acted like one. Acted like he lived on the streets his entire life, his skills not saying otherwise. He was as skilled as the hooded figure, maybe even more so considering he was able to sneak up on them.

"I'm guessing you want info." The man's voice spoke up, bringing the hooded figure out of their musings.

The figure seemed to frown behind their hood. "Now come on Tim… That's not all I come to you for." The frown seemed to turn into almost a pout as a golden eye was rolled around in its socket.

A hand was placed on a hip and the owner's expression seemed to ask the question for him. 'Seriously?' A shake of golden hair and an intake of breath had the man speaking. "That may be true," He started before looking over the others apparel, "but that's all you come to me for when dressed like that."

A sigh was heard before a hand left it's pocket and moved the hood from the person's head. Pristine white hair was the first thing to be seen followed by pale skin, marred only by a large red scar cutting angrily over the left eye and down the cheek - starting as a pentagram on the forehead, running through the eye and another scar under it, then making a 90 degree turn under the eye before caressing the cheek downward like a tear. When the hood was fully down, the person lifted their head and opened their eyes, revealing mirror-like silver eyes. A white eyebrow was raised as if asking 'happy?' The smile the golden haired boy gave was enough of an answer. Then the snow-haired teen noticed his friend staring. He sighed. This was why he never showed Tim his scar.

The gold and silver-haired teens had been friends for years, far before the silver boy had gained the rather nasty and stand-out-ish scar. Even before Tim had gotten into his current business of knowing everything and everyone better than the back of his hand.

The two had been on a mission together, Tim's first in fact. The two went in, proud and ready for anything.

Or so they thought.

They had expected only a handful of men. But it had been an ambush. More than twenty men, armed and ready to fight, had been waiting for the two teens. They were easily outnumbered and Tim didn't know how to fight well enough. The silverette had ordered the blonde to run and get help while he fought the men. Tim had been hesitant to leave but after the other had taken out two men on his own, the golden boy ran, not without his own injuries. By the time Tim had made it back to the Family, he was half blind in his injured eye and could taste the blood coming from the wound. Everyone tried to take care of him but he refused it. Not until the other was returned home, safe and sound.

But that wouldn't happen.

One of the fourteen executives of the family, a "Noah" as they were called, had gone to save the youngest of them. An hour went by with no word of the two Noah. As the head of the family started to gather a team to look for them, the doors had opened to reveal the two missing persons. It wasn't a good sight, the older holding the younger who was bleeding from more than one spot, the worst of it being his face. The younger had been rushed into the care of a family doctor who had been there for Tim. Tim told the doctor to take care of his friend first and the man did.

While the younger was being taken care of, Tim lost the last of his vision in his injured eye. To Tim, it was fair. His friend had a blatantly obvious scar on his face and now so would he.

But the other never took it that way.

For weeks, the younger was angry at Tim and even himself. He had let Tim get injured and Tim had refused any kind of care until he was home. In the time it took for the younger to return and get the help he needed, Tim could have been taken care of and still be able to see out both eyes.

On that day, the two young teens made a promise to themselves.

The younger promising he'd get strong enough to protect him, his friends, and - especially - his family so this never happened again.

The older, believing they would have had better chances were they prepared ahead of time for the ambush, promised to look into everything and everyone so he and his friends would never be attacked like that again.

Both had fulfilled their self-promises.

The younger had become one of the strongest of the Noah and even one of the stealthiest, going out on a mission only when others were busy or if the mission was too much for the other Noah.

The older became more all-knowing than the government, security agencies, and any other intelligence agency. An eye over the city and even a few others nearby. The older sometimes used his knowledge for his own fun but, more often than not, used it to be an informant for the family he was unofficially a part of.

"Stop staring." The younger of the two teens said, bringing himself and the other away from the memories of that day. "You didn't hold the knife, just like how you didn't leave the scar. It's been three years. You can stop blaming yourself."

"Only when you stop blaming yourself for my eye." The other retorted, looking the younger in his silver eyes with a smirk. "But that day won't happen, will it Allen?"

The young Noah - Allen - sighed and scratched the back of his head with a gloved hand, messing up his flattened hair and giving it life again. "No… It won't. But, to be fair, I blame you and the dead men for your eye too."

Gold hair swayed as the owner chuckled and shook his head. "Fair," Timcanpy spoke before smirking, returning to the previous topic. "So. What do you want to know?"

Allen gave a smirk of his own and pulled two pictures out of one of his pockets. He took a step closer to Tim so he could hand over the images. "I need to know who they are and where they are. The best time to… talk as well if you can."

Tim took the pictures and stared at the faces with a blank expression. Allen was in 'work mode' right now so he would be too. He'd seen these men before and was sure he knew the reason for Allen looking into them, but he had to ask anyways. "They have something to do with the recent break-in's?" His voice was no longer playful like it had been, but rather straightforward and down to business.

"Yeah," Allen said with an annoyed sigh and crossed arms. The two men had been getting more annoying every day. The Family had control over a majority of town - whether the government knew that or not, he had no clue - and had found that a few of their warehouses had been broken into night after night. It hadn't taken long for them to buff up security for the buildings but these men still found a way in. They'd set up camera's one day and were lucky to have gotten pictures of the men - though their humiliation in finding out it was only two men was high.

The Earl - the head of the family - had called Allen to take care of it. From what they already knew of the men, they were most likely Rats and knew their way around everything. That's where Allen came in. Being a Rat from the day he was born until he was thirteen meant he was knowledgeable of these men and how they acted. Allen's strength and stealth were no laughing matter. Everyone was good at their own things - manipulation, deceit, hand to hand combat, guns, knives, etc. - but they weren't exactly at Allen's level. Close, but not close enough. It had gotten to the point that, if Allen couldn't do it, then only the Earl could. Or so the Noah thought.

"They're Rats," Timcanpy said, drawing Allen's attention back to him. "Though, I'm sure you already know that. I've seen them use our little trick of blending in more than once. They tend to act normal until suddenly they're gone. The next time you see them, they look like kids who just left a candy store with everything they ever wanted." Allen opened his mouth to speak up - he already figured this much out on his own - but was interrupted. "I know where they come from but never knew where they went. Now I do. Meet me at 'The Tower' tonight at eleven. I'll show you the path they take every night."

And with that said, Timcanpy was gone, leaving Allen alone in the alley. Allen sighed and pulled his hood up again, already far too used to Tim's sudden leavings. The hooded teen walked out of the alley and back into the crowd, vanishing in the sea of people.

I actually made this longer but I don't feel well and wanted to put Chapter One out there. Hope that's a decent intro… Anyways, the rest of the story should be more like this rather than like the prologue. Technically, Chapter Two is already started and probably half done so I'll work on that and upload it tomorrow. See ya.

I always imagined a human Timcanpy as a kid. Until recently. For some reason, I've been picturing him as a teen that likes to mess with people. My friend questioned it and my only explanation was "I imagine a grown man pissing off Cross which leads Cross to turn him into a Golem… and not know how to turn him back." She said that it was a pretty believable situation. Another friend asked me "why the eyepatch" to which my answer was kind of lazy. "I didn't know how to add the cross on the golem's face to the person." But hey. Tim having only one eye might explain why his memory/projection/things are kinda hazy and static-y. *shrugs* I don't know.