Nearing two months since my last update. Heh, sorry. My prom was kind of late (just last week) so my attention may have been kinda diverted until that point, but beyond that I don't even have any excuses :P I'll try my best to get the next chapter up in, say, two-three weeks. On to my lovely reviewers/followers…

laren_njam38: Oops, sorry about that. Hope this wasn't too long a wait for you. Glad you're still interested in the story :) And that's great you've drawn all that from her character so far! I'm almost certain you'll enjoy what I have in store for her in the not-so-distant future (nudge nudge wink wink).

Sfumina: I know, right? Anguish and sorrow are a writer's best tools. After all, who doesn't enjoy watching their heroes (or antiheroes) fall and wade around in the muck for a while? And thanks! I'm glad you're enjoying my writing style so far. I don't have a beta (too much back and forth and whatnot), but I do try to edit a few times before publishing. (What usually happens, though, is that I spot an error weeks after publishing and just edit it then :P)

Guest: I'm curious, too! (Sorry, my awful attempt at humour.) I'll try to update a little more frequently now since I'm literally doing nothing this summer (yay for the summer break).

Knightmaremage: Punny username, by the way. Why my deepest gratitudes, kind sir. The commendation must also go to you, feeble and cursed though you may be (let's hope the magnificence of my fanfic does not deter you :P… just kidding; I'm not saying my story is magnificent), for you have provided me with much needed constructive criticism. In all seriousness, thanks! I could tell something was off about the last chapter but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Doesn't help that I only know Garrett from the reboot (guilty as charged). I'll have to go back and fix that later. Would you kindly let me know if I go off track again character-wise? Anyway, I'm glad my story's been able to divert your attention from the real world. Hope you can sink back into the (way better) fictional one with this chapter! (Oh, and did you spot another video game reference there? Hint: Think Irish accent, hypnosis, etc ;P)

Chapter 18

"Again," he ordered, leaning against the cold brick wall and peering through the darkness at the fumbling hands struggling to pick a basic brass lock. "And try not to alert everyone on the street of our presence this time."

Isabella huffed indignantly and set the picks down, massaging her cramped hands. "Perhaps if my teacher would offer more of his expertise, I could make some progress. And I wasn't that loud."

"Anyone would be able to hear that clinking a mile away." Garrett motioned for her to move aside. He kneeled by the door and withdrew his own set of picks. His fingers lay familiarly on the smooth handles as he slid the thin metal shafts deftly into the keyhole.

"You're still applying too much pressure. That's why your hand is sore. Remember, light touch." He leaned to the side so she could see his hands better. "Tension wrench in the base, lock pick above. Side of finger and thumb holding the wrench, other thumb and forefinger on the pick. Short, even strokes until there's no resistance, then set the pin. Repeat until the lock turns."

Even after having demonstrated slowly, Garrett could see that his protégé was still struggling. She shouldn't have been; by this point, it was almost as if she was failing on purpose. Two weeks had passed. Each night, he had taken her to a different part of the City to practice what would surely become a skill essential to her survival. Each night, she had progressed about as much as if she had a half-witted opium addict for a teacher. He had to see improvement, if not for her sake then for his own dignity.

"You're going too fast. How am I to keep a light touch if the pins are so heavy? They barely lift when I use all the strength in my fingers." She stretched out her aching hand for emphasis.

He sighed. "They only feel heavy because you're pressing on the wrench. They'll be easier to lift when you relax your other hand. Again."

She picked up the tools again and, mumbling encouragingly to herself - which he couldn't help but find mildly amusing - set to unlocking the door of the abandoned store.

Garrett had chosen the area carefully; he had to ensure no one would interrupt their lesson. The sector was rarely visited by anyone, for even those who lived in the shadows feared to tread in the abandoned ghost of a neighbourhood. Garrett himself scarcely passed through the empty streets, though more out of disinterest than fear. To her credit, Isabella had proven at the very least adequate in moving about unseen and blending in with a crowd unnoticed. When it came to lock picking, though, she was a lost cause.

"Aha!" Her cry of triumph echoed down the street.

He had been so wrapped up in his thoughts, he hadn't even heard her set the pins successfully. Isabella beamed with satisfaction as she turned the lock and pushed the door open. She looked to him as if expecting some kind of praise but he only swept past her, not even bothering to look in her direction.

Any trace of disappointment on her face was replaced by fascination as she followed him into the building. "Oh, this is amazing," she breathed.

Garrett himself took a minute to take in the sight before them. The exterior of the building was misleading, to say the least. Though faded and weather-eroded on the outside, the interior remained almost untouched. Bursts of deep, rich colours decorated the walls and floors in lavish carpets and lush curtains. On the shelves lay piles of neatly arranged hats and in the polished display cases, rows of fur-lined leather gloves.

What interested him far more, though, were the sparkling jewels in the far end of the room. He ducked underneath the counter and reached out with an eager hand for the jewelry cases.

"Wait," she whispered.

Garrett turned around, eyes searching for a source of danger.

"It's just…" she took a deep breath and paced the room. "Must we really steal from here?"

Isabella brought a hand up to the thick velvet curtains and ran her hand over the soft material, her eyes fixated on the finely cut fabric. "It's so… pure. Untouched. As far as we know it's the only place in the City that's still standing and still… like before."

Garrett narrowed his eyes as he watched her. There was something unusual about her, a part of her he'd been trying to pin down for the past few weeks. But every time he thought he could place his finger on it, it eluded him. He didn't particularly enjoy the idea of being completely in the dark about someone who was becoming dangerously familiar with him.

He turned around and continued to the back. "If we don't take these, someone else will eventually."

"But —"

"You wanted to learn, so learn." Officials and industrialists may have pulled the wool over her eyes, but he decided it was about time she knew the truth of the idyllic world she and countless others had made for themselves.

He picked up the first pair of gloves he saw. "These. Skin of some poached baby animal most likely." He tossed them aside and reached for a nearby scarf. "This. Woven by children or stolen, no doubt."

She stared impassively at him, though with keen eyes studied him. He brushed off a sense of unease and set to unlocking the heavily locked display case. "Believe me, it's far from pure."

"I've never thought about it like that," she said quietly, removing her hand from the lush curtains.

Within seconds, he had the case open and was pocketing the intricately studded gold bands and sparkling chains of coloured gems. He looked back to see her fingering the ends of a plain black leather glove. He made one more sweep of the display cases to make sure he hadn't missed anything and turned around again. Isabella was already at the entrance.

"Shall we leave then?" She asked innocently with a mischievous smile across her face.

Garrett followed her out the door, though not before glancing at the display case which was missing one pair of black leather gloves. She was getting better.

The darkness of night provided ample cover for the pair as they made their way back to the tower. Garrett deliberately chose a more physically demanding path, which to his surprise Isabella could now follow with minimal strain. She would never have been able to do so a week ago, but her youthful limbs had quickly grown accustomed to the new demands.

"Shall we race?" She asked as she pulled herself over a railing. "It's safe here. No one else walks the rooftops. And I know my way back."

"No," Garrett answered sharply. "This isn't a game."

Isabella had already grown accustomed to his aloofness. She sighed in defeat. "Well, alright then. Can we at least talk?"

He eyed her warily. "About what?"

"Say, who your parents were. Were they Master Thieves as well? Do you hail from a renowned family of —" She stopped short. There was not a trace of amusement on his face. "That may have been a tad personal. Let's start with a less sensitive topic."

"We don't have to—"

"Oh, the clock tower!" She exclaimed. "I've always wondered, how did you come to live there?"

He paused, them decided he could indulge her this one time. "Where else would the most wanted man in the city go? After that child fell to his death, people avoided the place like the Gloom. Even stoned the entrance shut, claiming it was the spirit of the late engineer that killed him. Sometimes the stupidity of other people can prove to be of great use."

"It's you, isn't it?"

He narrowed his eyes. She looked ahead, speechless with incredulity, before elaborating. "You were the one who repaired it all those years ago. Of course… So you're an engineer, are you? I know enough about clockwork to know that no average man could repair something as complicated as that."

Garrett had stopped listening to her. His eyes struggled to make out a a blur of a shadow on a ledge in the distance. It moved slightly then stilled, as if steadying itself.

"Get down!" He ducked and yanked Isabella down just as the bolt whizzed through the air where her head had been just moments ago.

Her face hardened and she tightened the belt holding up her loose-fitting pants before following Garrett down the other side of the building.

Another bolt struck the wall an inch away from her and she let out a gasp of surprise before ducking behind a nearby crate. He dropped down soundlessly beside her.

"They're everywhere!" She exclaimed softly.

After drawing a finger to his lips, he peered around the edge to map out their surroundings. Though it was pitch black, Garrett could sense movement coming from the ground to his left and above on a balcony. The street on his right was empty, as far as he could see.

"Two, maybe more. One to your left, another above. Both armed with crossbows, it seems."

He racked his brain; escaping would be hard even if he wasn't held back by her limited mobility. He spotted a half-broken beer bottle by his feet and quietly picked it up. Isabella furrowed her brows. "They're not stupid. They know what a distraction is."

"But it's almost impossible not to look towards a loud noise. It's not as if we have many other options anyway."

She let out a shaky breath and nodded. "Fair point," she said curtly.

"On my count, run to building on your right. There's enough cover there, but stick to the shadows. Scale the wall down there," he pointed down a darkened path, "and make your way south from there. I'll be trailing you."

"And if there are more of them?" Her eyes widened in fear, or perhaps excitement - he couldn't quite tell which.

"Improvise." He gripped the neck of the bottle. "One, two…"

Just as he launched the projectile over his head, Isabella hopped onto her feet and sprinted down the alley. As predicted, the crash drew the attention of the men for a mere few seconds, but those few seconds were enough for the two to make their way safely across the street.

Garrett silently urged her onwards, relieved and surprised by her more than adept agility as she climbed the wall and swung herself over it. He was about to drop down after her when he saw a flutter of cloth out of the corner of his eye.

He turned his head to the roofs above and froze as he saw her. The same piercing glare. The same face contorted with anger. The white dress clashed violently with the darkness around her, but he couldn't tear his eyes off of her.

"Erin," he called softly.

He made to move, but he blinked once and she was gone. His breathing quickened. His blood pumped faster and harder through his veins. His head started to spin. If not for his vice-like grip he would surely have fallen.

"—rett! Garrett!" Her emphatic whispers brought the world back into focus in an instant.

He looked once more at the empty rooftops before landing on the grass next to her. She stared at him questioningly, her brows knit together worriedly, but he waved her off and scanned the vicinity.

"We're alone, but I doubt that'll last. We have to move." He glanced at her. Her mouth was open as if to question him, but no sound escaped her. "Now."

She nodded and closed her mouth, sensing the urgency in his voice, and followed him down a path too dark for them to discern where it would lead next.