Always vigilant

Part one

The streets of London were almost as busy at night as they were the day that preceded it. " the pubs right through here!" Said Grace, and James followed the her as she darted inti the Allie on the side. It was narrow and with a 18th century appeal, partially lit by some source of light that he couldn't seem to see. This was exactly the kind of place James tried to avoid at night, but he wanted to impress grace, so he continued. The cigarette buts abandoned on the ground resembled the emergency light lines along the floor of an airplane isle, and the bricks stuck out of the wall in funny angles, as if they had been laid by a mason with a visual disability. As they made their way down the street, a yelp of surprise rose from behind them, and they turned to find two figures who hadn't been there before: the first was a filthy, bony boy with scraggly unkempt stubble and patchy rags for clothes having his face and body pressed painfully against the wall; the second man, who was holding him there, wore a brown leather jacket that stretched against his large upper body, a black cap and a tight cloth covering his mouth and nose. The oppressor had the vagabonds left arm at an uncomfortable angle behind his back until a small leather pack fell from his hand; it was James's wallet. Nobody moved, and the stillness was offset by the silent and vain struggling of the boy against the mans grip. The beads of sweat on the boys face glowed as they traced his terrified expression. The man leaned in as if to speak softly, but his words echoed off the wall. "If I ever catch you dipping your fingers in someone's pockets again, I'll break them off." His last words were emphasized by twisting his arm further, drawing a painful cry from the lad. The man threw him to the ground, and he scrambled quickly to his feet and back into the night. James looked back at Grace, who wore the same terrified and stunned expression that James imagined on himself. The man reached down and picked up the wallet, turned it over in his hand, then tossed it to James. "Thanks" whispered James. The man nodded, then turned and walked around the corner. Grace and James ran after him, but his departure was in the same manner of his arrival, and he was gone as if he had never been there. Like the exit of an apparition, leaving you wondering if it have ever truly happened.The streets of London were almost as busy at night as they were the day that preceded it. " the pubs right through here!" Said Grace, and James followed the her as she darted inti the Allie on the side. It was narrow and with a 18th century appeal, partially lit by some source of light that he couldn't seem to see. This was exactly the kind of place James tried to avoid at night, but he wanted to impress grace, so he continued. The cigarette buts abandoned on the ground resembled the emergency light lines along the floor of an airplane isle, and the bricks stuck out of the wall in funny angles, as if they had been laid by a mason with a visual disability. As they made their way down the street, a yelp of surprise rose from behind them, and they turned to find two figures who hadn't been there before: the first was a filthy, bony boy with scraggly unkempt stubble and patchy rags for clothes having his face and body pressed painfully against the wall; the second man, who was holding him there, wore a brown leather jacket that stretched against his large upper body, a black cap and a tight cloth covering his mouth and nose. The oppressor had the vagabonds left arm at an uncomfortable angle behind his back until a small leather pack fell from his hand; it was James's wallet. Nobody moved, and the stillness was offset by the silent and vain struggling of the boy against the mans grip. The beads of sweat on the boys face glowed as they traced his terrified expression. The man leaned in as if to speak softly, but his words echoed off the wall. "If I ever catch you dipping your fingers in someone's pockets again, I'll break them off." His last words were emphasized by twisting his arm further, drawing a painful cry from the lad. The man threw him to the ground, and he scrambled quickly to his feet and back into the night. James looked back at Grace, who wore the same terrified and stunned expression that James imagined on himself. The man reached down and picked up the wallet, turned it over in his hand, then tossed it to James. "Thanks" whispered James. The man nodded, then turned and walked around the corner. Grace and James ran after him, but his departure was in the same manner of his arrival, and he was gone as if he had never been there. Like the exit of an apparition, leaving you wondering if it have ever truly happened.