by B.A. Savage
Written by B.A. Savage
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the writer’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
An Original Publication of Savage World Entertainment.
Copyright © 2005 by Bashan Savage
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever, except for use of quotes for review purposes. For information please contact: [email protected]
Printed in the U.S.A.
ISBN: 978-1-4659-6878-4
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Chapter One
Staring into the desktop mirror, the man lines up his fake moustache with his upper lip, “Never can be too cautious” thinks the man.
Geared from head to toe in black, he sits in his black leather chair finishing the last minute touches before his big night on the town.
Even though he has done similar jobs before, his nerves are bothering him more than usual. After finishing his fake facial hair, he stands up and grabs a bag of bird feed.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this job. I mean a friend of a friend. I must be desperate.”
As he feeds his pet parrot, the bird says, “Archan, Archan, squawk, he’s our man, squawk. If anyone can do it, Archan can, squawk!”
“Man, I’m starting to regret teaching you that Snickers.”
“Aw, shut up, squawk!”
“And that too. You know, Snickers, you don’t have to be the only non-extinct species in the house, right?” says Archan with a big grin.
“I’m sorry, squawk,” says Snickers in a sad tone.
“Sure you are.” Then Archan goes to the next birdcage, “here you go, Lady Jay.”
After feeding her, he heads to the last remaining cage, “And I didn’t forget about you either, Petey. If it wasn’t for you two being the last of your kind, I wouldn’t be feeding you two so good.”
“What about me? Squawk! What about me?” asks Snickers.
“Yeah, and you too, Snickers. You eat more than those two together.”
“Thank you! Squawk!”
“Yeah, yeah. If I wasn’t hurting for money, I would never have taken a job like this.”
Thinking back a few days prior when his friend approached him with a job, he said he had a friend who had an idea stolen from him and was fired as part of a cover up. It seemed like a simple job. The man had given him a detailed map of the building, along with security details, which seemed a little high-tech, but it was a camera corporation. With all the information the man gave him, it would be a simple “get in, get out” job with great pay, and maybe this is what bothered him.
There is no such thing as easy money. Being a professional thief, he knew he needed to bottle up these emotions; a job is a job. Archan did ponder why the man simply didn’t take legal recourse, but the man said it would be tough to prove without the disks and would take years in the legal system. “Damn big business” thinks Archan as he looks back on their conversation.
He sits back at his desk. “Man, I’m sounding more and more like my old man.” And he knew in his heart this was his feeling too. But if there was anything Archan inherited from his father, it would be his distrust for big businesses. Archan believes that’s why it’s so hard for him to maintain a regular nine to five.
Archan’s father rarely sets foot on civilized soil and missed most of his childhood because of this reason. Archan’s mother had fallen in love with the scenery of a tropical vista during a company get-away. The tour guide and she had the time of their lives that weekend, and little Dallas Babukas came nine months later. Once Archan’s mother passed away, he decided to look up this mysterious man of adventure who was his father. It took him years to track him down and ever since that day, his father tried to make amends for the missing years. Just last year, his father made his first trip to the States in a decade and brought with him both Lady Jane and Petey, both birds believed to be extinct. He did this because during Archan’s trip to Egypt to visit him, he mentioned his parrot Snickers and his love for birds and animals in general.
On Archan’s desk, at which he’s seated, is a ring, which is father mailed to him last month. He never bothered to put on the gawky jeweled thing; he just tossed it on his desk amongst the clutter.
While he searches the desktop for his keys, he notices the ring. He picks it up. Feeling the need for some extra luck, “With the way my nerves are tonight, it couldn’t hurt.”
He slides it on. It’s a perfect fit. “It’s kinda ugly, but it’s not like I’m going to a party.” He puts on his cloth gloves, which are a snug fit with the ring, then looks around the room one last time. “Well, I guess I’m ready.” He then grabs his bag of thieving accessories.
“Be careful! Squawk! Love ya! Squawk!”
“And I shouldn’t have taught you that either.”
He then leaves the apartment.
