One Jump Ahead [Wonderboy]

[wimdy]

The streets of District Six are generally a safe place to be. They're quiet and quaint and there's nothing all that special about them. Desperate vendors may attempt to assault possible buyers with their goods to make them purchase things they don't need, but that's about as dangerous as it gets in the intelligence district. Most of the people of the district are young people, slaving away for hours and hours in their schools to compete for internships and jobs alike, trying to get a foot ahead of their competition and sabotage all possible people except for themself. The educational sphere of District Six is a vicious dog-eat-dog world, a never ending cycle of posh superiority and menial labor done all just to keep the reputation of the district afloat.

It is on one of those rare busy days of the weekend that Eli finds himself strolling along the streets at dusk, hands in his back pockets and his head tilted back to take in the smell of all of the foods being cooked around him and the words being thrown past him and the stars beginning to appear above him. He hadn't had this much time to himself in weeks, having been working tirelessly at his internship to try and make a good impression with his bad attitude and flawless work ethic. The former tends to cancel out the latter. No matter what he does, it seems that no one in the chemistry wing will ever take even the smallest bit of a liking to him."Who needs them anyway? They're nothing. I'll show them just what I'm worth someday and they'll all be sorry."

The citizens are practically flooding into town now, kids and teens and adult roaming about in search of some leisure to distract themselves from their daily lives of toil and hardship. High pitched laughter floats from a bench where two girls talk animatedly about their week. A whine slithers across the crowds from a little boy, pointing and desperately begging for a sugary treat at a small shop. A panicked shriek cuts across the streets from a mother searching for her wandered-off daughter. Everyone is bustling about and weaving through the complicated web of bodies milling through the area, their individual voices melding together into a disharmonious melody unique to Distric Six, its inhabitants all contributors to the work of disheveled art. Its beautiful in it's own messy way, singing to Eli's inner child that is seeking a release from a life of torment and oppression at the hands of his own makers. He adds his own line of notes, whistling quietly as he strolls along the sidewalk until a body collides with his own, nearly knocking him over.

A boyish face worriedly stares at him and helps to steady him with a mumbled'sorry' before taking off along the streets again. Eli blinks to himself, an eyebrow raised as he watches the younger male walk off. He himself shrugs it off and continues on his way for only a moment before realization hits him in the form of an empty pocket and a smarting bumped shoulder.'That little punk...' He turns sharply on his heal, shoving people out of the way as he tries to find that shock of messy brown hair again, grumbling under his breath all the while about his image being ruined by his lack of cool. For a split second, he sees that face so he does what seems the most appropriate at the moment. He pauses."You!"

[Wonder]

lis·some [lis - uhm] adjective - agile, nimble, or active.


The market was unusually busy for a Friday afternoon, at least in Robin’s opinion. The bustling streets provided many a pocket, many a target to slip his fingers into their belongings. Thirsty like a vampire after blood, he longed for his nimble hands to clench around that which people held ever so dear – money. The harsh whispers of the crowd surrounded him, most people in suits rushing off to work, busy studying and inventing. Life was much easier when you just could take what you need, if only people would realize. Through the sea of penguin suits and work skirts, it was hard to distinguish anyone as any different. But there was a reason he had eyes in the sky.

The electronic device bulged in his left pocket. His walkie talkie was the only thing he held dear except his beloved dictionary. Serving as the quickest link to his best friend, the device had served and helped him on so many occasions he couldn’t count them on fingers and toes, there was just that many. Turning the black knob up, Robin felt a click as he watched the darkened screen flicker on with a faint green glow. Channel 9, that was their secure network, at least they thought. No one had ever interrupted their harsh whispers. “Lark – do you see anyone good?” Lark was Robin’s eye in the sky, his failsafe when he couldn’t see or when he got caught. But Robin hardly ever got caught. The girl was a monkey, basically, a bird in flight who lived on the top branch. She could survey an area in the blink of an eye, and tell Robin all about it. Well, not only that, she was also his best friend. “Lark? Are you there?”

The dead silence was eerie, Robin couldn’t see her crouching atop the rooftops, too good to be caught by his wandering eyes. But he knew, she was up there, watching from above, God from the heavens waiting to spite her people, picking out one in particular. This was a regular scam, looking for people whose wallets poked out of their pockets and waved to her flickering eyes, there was always money laying about in a tight-knit crowd, as this one, you just had to figure out which ones to pick. In reality, the reapings would be the best time to go around and pickpocket people, but the looming peacekeepers would snatch Robin up in a second should he even move an inch – and send him in to the games. Which really wouldn’t be all the bad, he supposed. With his stealth and skill he could probably go about - “You didn’t say over, over.”

Like a megaphone at midnight, she pierces the silence snapping Robin back full force. The crackling of the walkie worsens with every syllable but she was there alive, and breathing, and perched on a rooftop, as always. Lark Keeni.

“What?”

“You didn’t say over, over.” She said this so matter-of-factly as if it was something that Robin should have known all along. Of course, it was normal to end every speech burst with ‘over.’ Normal walkie talkie talk. It was a rule that they’d set up to ensure quick clarity through the devices, and yet Robin was guilty of seldom following the rules.

“Sorry, over.”

“Better.” She paused, her contentness bleeding through the device as if she’d won a war, and with Robin’s mule-like personality, it wasn’t quite a far stretch. “Now what did you want, over?”

“Do you see anyone that would have anything on them?” Robin watched the crowd move by, more and more people passed quickly with every passing second. Rushing along to get their jobs, rushing away from him, each second passed is a dime lost.

“Anything on them.. what? Over.”

“Anything on them, over.”

The satisfaction oozes from her voice, as if every pore was laughing as she teased the poor thief. “Guy, coming up on your right.” He looks about frantically searching for the man who would be his target. Small, slanted eyes, busy, frantic, and a wallet sticking ever so slightly out of his pocket, teasing Robin, telling him to come near and take it. “Also you forgot our codenames Princess, over.” The crackling voice giggles and Robin rolls his eyes as he switches off the knob dimming the green light and killing off the talkie, he was on his own now.

Manoeuvring through the hustle of people was easy. Being small and agile had often come to his advantage. Elbows and briefcases lightly bump into him, aiming for his shins, sides and face; people were desperate to move along, as he was desperate to steal. Everybody longed eternally for something, strived to earn something, strived to achieve something and to steal, and take was his calling. The man dancing humbly above him, a gazelle walking through the blowing blades of grass, unsuspecting and wide-eyed, a victim, Robin was a hunter, a lion, a thief.

Trailing quickly through the stray of people, Robin finds himself behind the man. Bump. Pushing at him he grabs the wallet in a swift motion, appearing as though he had tripped. “Sorry.” Robin muttered as he quickly ran away, the sooner he got out of there, the sooner he would be sa-

“You!” The scream echoes throughout the street. It’s a throbbing red light, a fire alarm, Robin was now the gazelle in the savannah prancing away. Yet, he wasn’t so helpless. Flicking on his device, he desperately called for any response from Lark – in which there was none. She was probably laying about watching the clouds while he waited to die a bloody death in the streets in which he played his dangerous game.

Alleyway. Robin ran tirelessly, needing to get away. The alley in which he’d started looked welcoming despite its dark greyness that most would find threatening. The cold stone floor, with puddles of water every few feet – there hadn’t been a storm in days and yet the high walls blocked any potential sunshine from evaporating the water. The walls were grim, and painted with signatures of gangs and unruly children. A large dumpster, with a lid hanging, broken off the side sat on the right side, who knows what would be in there, but lastly, the alley sported a nice dead end, leaving Robin trapped, and useless.

“Shit.” Robin muttered, perhaps a little too loudly as he cradled himself against the dead end awaiting certain doom.

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