by Hugo Damas
It’s been long enough, Jamie considered while eating an apple. Might as well turn back and re-visit some of those houses I got keys to.
The nature of the competition meant that Jamie had to walk back past houses that had been scenarios two and three to return to scenario ones. During these rounds back through previously visited homes, The Street Rat would change appearances.
A hat put away, hair messed up differently so that it would cover a different eye, and a little water to change the hue of the hair and skin and clothes. A little limping wouldn’t hurt either, but overall a different posture. Jamie walked like he was someone else.
Jamie had such generic poor clothes not even people who invited him into their homes kept a vivid image of what the Street Rat looked like.
Of course, those most offended would run off and grab onto him all the same. In fact, Jamie’s peripheral vision had been alerted by one such ruckus of a movement.
“Hey you!”
Jamie turned around scared, but the woman just grabbed Jamie by the collar, pulling it close, angry as all get out.
“Thief! You little rotten thief, give me back my things!”
“Blimey, what? Wha-- who are ye, mam?” Jamie’s voice sounded different now, with a bit of an accent and on a different, more feminine pitch. One much closer to what it really sounded like. That alone would immediately cause a flinch, which it did.
“I stole nuthin’, mam, this’s some kind ova misunderstandin’, I swear,” Jamie pleaded, scared and confused.
The woman looked at the Street Rat suspiciously and attentively, but it was too late now. If they had done such the first time they invited her in -- looked closely -- they would then be able to recognize Jamie immediately, but they never did. The Street Rat was never closely inspected when first met, and when second encountered…
“Apologies, girl, I -- hmm…”
“Please lemme go, mam.” The woman obliged, releasing Jamie, and then looked around for, well, Jamie.
“Run along, little girl, I mistook you for some other street trash…”
A slight of a smirk formed on Jamie’s mouth. When second encountered, the Street Rat would be little else than a fluke and, because of that, soon forgotten. It was a little psychological trick Jamie had perfected.
When they looked at Jamie the first time, no clear, descriptive image was kept. The second time around, they would generate an image of all of Jamie’s features, but by acting, Jamie would predispose them to think these were unlike what they had seen at first. Making the decision they were wrong, they would then chalk Jamie’s real appearance to negligible. The result was that later, when it came to remembering the thief to report to the law, they would come up with Jamie’s image, his second appearance, who they knew wasn’t the thief.
In summary, the appearance of the thief, down to the very last detail, vanished from any and all witness’s minds. This was the kind of subtle manipulation the Street Rat was the absolute best at. It was Jamie’s natural talent to understand people’s minds and know how to work them.
More than pleased, Jamie deftly and carefully used the key to silently open the first door… only for the lock to suddenly trigger a screeching alarm.
“What the?”
Jamie quickly removed the key, but the alarm kept blaring out at an amazing volume. Startled, she flung the key away. Crap.
Jamie heard rumbling inside the house. He prepared himself, quickly assuming a fetus position. He started sobbing. The door opened to show a man in his pajamas.
“What the devil is that noise?!” His eyes went from the doorknob to the scared little street urchin sobbing inches away from his feet, and the same one that had been given bread not two hours beforehand.
“Suh, I promise it wasn’t me, I just came to ask for more food, suh, for my sister, suh, she didn’t get any. I dunno what’s makin’ this noise, I swear it wasn’t me.”
The man quickly crouched and put a hand on Jamie’s shoulder.
“Hey hey now, I know, I remember you, alright? I don’t know what that is either, it’s definitely not mine.”
Not his? Jamie thought, perplexed. What does he mean not his?!
“I’ll get you another piece of bread, and then you’ll run along, alright? Where are the authorities? Amore! Did you call them, yet?”
“I did, they should be arriving soon,” a concerned woman’s voice replied from inside.
“Alright then, what the void is this?” He eyed the noisy lock. “I wonder if that thief left it here?”
That thief? Street Rat’s mind ran through the possibilities.
Jamie waited for the bread and then walked away, nibbling at it. The Street Rat was definitely intrigued. From the man’s comments, Jamie had gathered they had just been robbed by someone, and that someone had forced them to give him, or her, their valuables under threat of death.
A quick talk of a golden prosthetic arm went a long way to help Jamie realize who was walking around on the Street Rat’s side of the city.
The Mad Genius. I should avoid that lunatic. Jamie looked truly concerned, feeling watched and in legitimate danger. Being mistaken for a non-participant is a big disadvantage when it comes to him. He might just shoot me.
The Mad Genius’s reputation was uncanny. Once a great scientist, he had caused an accident that had killed a lot of other great scientists. He was jailed for it and eventually escaped by causing the death of many more. Ever since then, he had become a murderous crazy person on a rampage to make the world pay for disgracing him.
He had gone mad, hence his title.
Jamie looked around again, noticing a silhouette vaulting into a second story window, on the other side of the street.
That is not the Mad Genius. With a sly smirk, the Street Rat crossed the bridge.
Jamie felt around his pocket for the house’s key. The house had provided a rare sub-scenario: they had offered Jamie a bath. He had stolen a bunch of stuff while pretending to be taking the very long bath, and that had included the key as well.
Quite a good situation and outcome.
The Street Rat quietly opened the front door, wincing at the prospect of an alarm going off. That didn’t happen. Taking the shoes off, Jamie proceeded to slowly step across the entrance corridor. It seemed the owners had yet to notice all the stealing since they were tucked away in the bedroom, sleeping soundly. Jamie heard the faint noises of the thief upstairs, however, and decided to follow the sense of adrenaline that pulled him towards it.
Who is it, I wonder?
Jamie walked up to the door but didn’t open it. Didn’t even make an attempt. Instead, Jamie bowed his head and waited in the darkness for the thief to decide to search the ground floor. His clothes wouldn’t be discernible that way.
After long seconds of waiting, the Street Rat decided it would be more believable to be about to open the door, so he reached out for the knob with his left hand. And waited.
As expected, the thief eventually sighed impatiently and approached the door. Jamie steeled his nerves and prepared the heart to leap with the opening of the door.
“Ahh!” The silenced gasping came out of the startled young woman who, reacting to the figure of the little boy in the dark, jumped back and away.
Less than ideal but Jamie ran with it, reacting startled as well. But more curious. “What are ya doin’, miss?”
“Nothing,” the whisper came, almost in a scolding tone. She stood up to seriously look at the Street Rat, seemingly deciding to pretend she wasn’t a thief. “Return to bed, child, all is well.”
She was hidden by the shadows very well now, except for the gleaming red eyes which were still visible in the dark, framed by what Jamie guessed were dark garments. In truth, the woman had moved away very quickly, so the momentary glimpse that Jamie had gotten had revealed just a dark blue blur.
“But hu are ya?” Jamie stepped forward, curious and scared, and then immediately hesitated in fear. “You’re not ‘ere to hurt usus, are ya?”
“No,” the whisper came out again, frantic and almost comedic. “Just shoo, return to your bed.”
Jamie wanted to get close. If the Street Rat could get close enough, one more opponent would be disqualified. He stepped forward.
“Bu’ miss, my parents are good, they won’t hurt ya at awl, is it food ya need, miss?” Jamie stepped closer.
“I require nothing,” she said, sounding disappointed. “Sorry for waking you. Farewell.”
Jamie smiled because the thief woman was cornered, and could only move back to the window by bumping into the Street Rat.
It was time to pick-pocket a thief. Fast and clumsily, the Street Rat tripped over to her, but her eyes vanished into the dark and Jamie ended up head-butting the wall.
“Ow!”
Jamie bounced back in confusion. The Street Rat watched the wall suspiciously, massaging his forehead.
“Miss?” Jamie reached out and felt the wall. Looking around, Jamie but saw no one.
The thief woman was gone, and the only explanation was that she had very literally vanished into the wall. That meant either through the wall or through teleportation.
Since there was no teleportation effect left behind, no magical residue which was always very visible to the naked eye, that could mean only one thing.
The Shadow. The Street Rat flinched, backing away carefully. Holy light, I near took out the Shadow!
Jamie paused in disbelief for a few seconds, the last few minutes trailing back in her mind. It necessarily wanted to examine everything it could about the most infamous of titles in the world. The whole competition was named after the Shadow.
Eventually, though, the Street Rat smiled awkwardly and confidently.
The thief woman had been so flustered she hadn’t even noticed how Jamie was dressed. Obviously, he wasn’t some kid that had just left the bed.
That was the Shadow?
Jamie turned around to walk out of the house and proceed with the competition.
Not impressed.
What a Freak
The Circus Freak ogled the golden clock!
Puzzled, wondering. Perusing. Scanning the big thing on the wall from top to bottom, scratching his chin in concentration.
He looked from it to his pouch. Held it against the big clock to compare sizes.
“Naaaahh, that’ll never fit!”
The Circus Freak slid aside in a dance step and grabbed hold of a gold watch with a deft swipe.
“Oooooh, now I can get those socks I’ve been dreaming about!” Giggling, he shoved the watch through the pouch. “See, it’s the darnest thing! My hand is there with the watch, but only the watch disappears! It’s amazing, don’t you think so?!”
The Circus Freak glared back. He had a huge grin on his face as he looked right at the young couple in their pajamas who were grabbing on to their bed sheets like it could shield them. They looked both terrified and confused.
“What? Is there something on my face?!” The Circus Freak poked his left eye, slightly protruding it out of the socket. They both winced at this, freaked out. “GEHK!” He laughed out loud.
He turned and continued going through all the drawers, trying to contain his amusement. They had woken up to exactly that, to him going over their things with the giddiness of a child perusing his birthday gifts.
“What are you doing?” The man had asked.
“Stealing,” he had replied, quite casually. “I’m in this competition, ya know? I need to take things and put it in this pouch, is this valuable?!”
“I…what--”
“Ah, never you mind,” The Circus Freak said, waving aside, “when in doubt, put it in the pouch!” He laughed and did just that.
The Circus Freak was dressed in one of his clown outfits, a black thing with red stripes here and there, complete with a jester hat that had a black side and a red side. He constantly forgot which was which. And then there were the funny details! His hat seemed part of a tight-suit that went inside his clothes, and it seemed to be stitched to the skin of his forehead. His whole face was painted too, white, with black on his lips and in the eyes in a way that when he closed them, they would draw crosses. They made a cartoon drawing of him being dead.
Then there was the cape, which was cool, and his freakishly long limbs were wearing cloth that would stretch and deform oddly with his movements, to give them an appearance of being mutated or otherworldly, when in fact they were just socks and gloves.
Hugo Martins, named The Circus Freak due to his origins as a circus clown and acrobat, had the greatest sense of humor! It was at its best when anyone near him was disturbed.
Hugo went through their stuff, delighting in the awkward fear that the two residents were giving off. Because of that, he randomly giggled as he searched. And felt the need to joke!
“Oh wow, what a pretty ring this is!”
“It’s our engage--” Hugo closed his eyes and looked back at them with a wide grin. “I…it’s our engagement ring…” the woman managed to say.
“Really? Wow wee, great work affording something like this! It’s so significant, huh? I guess I don’t have to give it to the pouch.” The Circus Freak faced the ring with his closed eyes, interested.
“Really?” the woman asked, hopeful.
“Yeah, I’ll wear it!” The Circus Freak put it on his finger, cackling in joy.
“What?” the woman asked, distraught.
The Circus Freak laughed and continued sifting through all their things. Eventually, though, the noise proved to be too much. A commanding voice called out from below.
“Hey! Hey in there! Is everything alright?”
Hugo turned at the two of them with a wide grin, and they whimpered in silence. They wouldn’t talk.
“HELLO? Forgive me, but I’m coming in,” the officer announced.
“Well, it seems like it’s time for me to leave. You’ve been so hospitable, though! I will really have to return.”
Humming some circus music, the Circus Freak danced his way to the window with a couple of spins.
“Oh, how I am enjoying this thing, I really am!” The Circus Freak held his hand to his chest in yearning, “I hope I get to meet some more of the others soon, I really do!”
Hugo heard the yell from below. “I can hear you up there, you bastard! I’m coming!”
The couple was young, like Hugo. In their mid-twenties. They stood there, in their bed, shivering. They didn’t know what to expect and that left them feeling so very frightened.
The Circus Freak loved it.
The door started to get beaten, but it was the one on the ground floor, so Hugo still had a long minute or something.
“Stay here in case he escapes through the window,” Hugo heard from below as he sat on the window sill, his back turned to the street.
“What? But that’s like the third floor.” Hugo grinned at the couple, glaring so they could see his fun-loving dark brown eyes.
“Just do it!” The door gave way.
“By the way, would either of you know what the Shadow Conclave is?”
They looked at him wide-eyed, afraid of even trying to interpret the question.
“Hey now, come now,” Hugo called, chuckling, and snapping his fingers to grab their attention. They looked aside at the door, hearing the guard getting closer up the stairs.
“Hey, on me!” Hugo shouted abruptly, clapping his hands, and they shivered and looked at him with the greatest of faces! He couldn’t help it, the Circus Freak just started laughing.
“The look on your faces! Ohhh maann!”
“I…what?” Responded the man.
“But really, Shadow Conclave? Ring any bells?” Hugo asked again.
“Uhm…shadow…no?”
“No,” she also replied.
“Eesh, someone oughta tell me about them already. But hey, at least I’m not the only one who doesn’t know, right?” Hugo asked, amused.
The door was kicked open, and the Circus Freak jolted awa
y in a fright.
“WAH!” His body leaned back, and all he heard was a “no!” from the guard who tried to stretch a hand towards him, even though they were too far away from each other for that to matter.
The Circus Freak did fall.
“Whaeeehh!!!” The Circus Freak back-flipped and tried to grab the window sill on the first floor, and while he connected, his body rebounded from the inertia and his hands slid off the sill. Hugo back-flipped again, voicing excitement. “Wow wee!”
“Whoa, hey!” The guard did not have the time to react before the Circus Freak landed on him hard, crushing him to the ground and knocking him out inside the armor.
Hugo looked down at the guard under him and scoffed. “Hah!”.
“Wha…you bastard!” Hugo looked up at the voice and found the guard, spear in hand, looking down at him.
The Circus Freak chuckled loudly, and shrugged up. “What can I say, Mr. Guardsman? I’m a sucker for men in armor, I can’t help falling for them!” The guard’s forehead twitched in anger, and the Circus Freak winked at him. “Though I’ll admit, I’ll give you that! I sometimes fall a bit too hard!”
Laughing, the Circus Freak stood up and sped away. He could be heard from several feet away, but there was no way the guard could catch up in a normal chase, especially when the man still had to get back down.
Hugo’s mind celebrated with jubilation, This is so fuuunn!!
Every moment in the competition reminded Hugo of the first month after he had left the circus. He didn’t know much of anything about anything, he was just going around people’s houses getting what he needed, and then running from the police.
He had been caught several times, but it was pretty hard to keep someone like him arrested. Very tricky.
And now he was at it again.
He’d been contacted mysteriously, and told he was invited to take part in the “Shadow Conclave,” and for the life of him, he did not know what that was! Everyone he asked didn’t know, there was a cop who had heard of it, and told Hugo it was an underground organization. Criminals like him, but on a whole other level!
