shutupassbutt (shutupassbutt) wrote,

So I witnessed this midget salesman get his diamond ring stolen

as I was walking through a decidedly open patch in the meadow alongside a creek. I couldn't do anything about it at the time, as the evil goatee'd thief grasped the ring from its owner as he was admiring it from atop a small stone and rode off on horseback, but later on two dudes started fighting over the outcome of a sports game in a train station. I sat back and watched while discussing the day's plans with a friend. He took leave after a short while, and it wasn't long before I found myself confronting the thief from earlier on his own turf. Rather, I was confronting his right hand man, as the thief himself was nowhere to be found. I expect he was out harassing more travelers in the Meadowfront, playing up his Disney Bad Guy routine in the corniest way possible.

The 1920's had produced some spectacular architecture, all things considered. The moss and vine-covered Roman style pillars holding up bridges for those countless trains and cruddy staircases, littered with fast food remnants and cigarette butts. Naturally, I was making good time back to my assignments operator. Having just retrieved the diamond ring with perfect stealth save for the three or so henchmen that saw me take it out from under their eyes, I had a bit more incentive to beat my personal best. Opting for my favorite route, up the Never Ending Marble Staircase (out of commission for some time now and currently comes to a definite end) to the catwalk entrance over the Eastside trainstation.

By this time my pursuers were well behind me, but I took an extra precaution and used the last possible moments to hop across each of the three main sets of tracks, allowing the trains mere yards of clearance before I'd have become but another decal on their foremost rail guards. It is quite a jarring feeling to look back at the gargantuan things and imagine just how much it would hurt for that split second before feeling would become null and void. I paused to take a breather as the steam from the last train billowed about me, and as if on cue, an incoming message from the Operator. I instinctively reached to my pocket to check the status of my spoils (still there), and gave word of my success.

"You're not home yet," she replied in that familiar emotionless voice. "Don't take any unnecessary detours on your way back." I say emotionless, but there is always a hint of annoyance when discussing matters of business. Rightfully so, I suppose. No one likes talking about money unless it belongs to them and is not about to be lifted from their posession.

"Affirmed." I ended the voice transmission and took the maintenance door out to the station lobby. No one so much as blinked at what should have been an unusual entrance; there are stranger things to be seen in this city. I fit in well here, though I'm not sure that's something I want to brag about. I nodded at an acquaintance working in the security office and started back to Operative. She won't show it, but she will be happy to see me.
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