HEADS UP:
I've taken a bit of creative liberty with the fictional world that Thief takes place in, absorbing it into the real Victorian Europe with some added content here and there as well as some things changed. Those things will be made clearer within the story.
Enjoy!
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Delicate boots pacing back and forth on the cobblestone street matched the rhythm of the stopwatch in her partner's hand.
"It's been fifteen minutes, I don't think the stars aligned on this one," a man told her with doubt and a proper English accent.
"Thomas, my calculations—"
"Assumptions," he corrected.
"They were correct. I am sure of it," the young woman replied in a matching accent, speaking sternly to him, despite her small stature.
"Are you ever going to doubt your own ability?" he asked, the cuff of his top hat shadowing over his eyes as it caught the gentle drops of water that fell every so often.
"When I'm wrong, I will," she said with her chin high.
"Oh God, Miss Everheart, you are far too humble for your own good."
She turned to him. "The last time this shop was robbed it was done so by a Mr. Adams who we brought into custody two months ago. The reason for his capture? Mrs. Bates' very helpful guard dog gave him a nasty scar on his ankle. Mr. Adams had taken a few poor men under his generous wing. A lonely Mr. Cott, a gambling Mr. Higgins, and finally a rascal of a man called Hamish Hayward. Yes, the same man who is here tonight. Why tonight? Because Hamish has a problem keeping up with taxes and tomorrow is his deadline to get them turned in. He would have enough time to get the stolen goods fenced for a good price and fix his mistake. Not to mention there are more than one person on the wrong side of the law that he has borrowed money from who are getting particularly impatient. Mr. Haward also left his cat outside about ten minutes ago which is something he only does when he's not at home. And finally, Mrs. Bates' lovely guard dog was killed tragically in a carriage accident yesterday. It was in the papers this morning. But before she can purchase a new one, it leaves her vulnerable to one night of all the stealing one can attempt."
He sighed and relented, smirking a bit as he looked away from her.
"Hand me your cane." She held out her gloved hand to him.
"What?" he asked with confusion.
"Oh don't play daft it's not a good color on you—"
"I'm not playing anything—"
"Just do it and trust me for once."
He rolled his eyes and did as she asked, looking away when she took it from him.
"And call me Amelia. You're family now after all," she remarked as she walked over to stand under the back window of the two story jewelry shop.
"I don't think it would be proper in public," he said with judgment.
"Are you accusing me of not being proper?" she asked with offense as she knelt down to hold the cane out horizontally at knee level.
"No, I wouldn't dream of it. You who likes everything just so..." he smarted off to her as he shut the pocket watch and slid it back into his overcoat.
"Come hold the other end."
He had no clue what she was doing but working with her he learned to just go with it. He knelt down across from her and held the other end of the cane in his hand to keep it steady.
"Everything has its proper place. And when things go according to plan it relaxes me. Is that so bad?"
"Only for the poor chap that will wed you."
She gaped in offense.
He chuckled.
"Well just for that I'm going to gloat even more when I'm proven right."
"I don't think he's in there."
"Three..."
"Amelia."
"Two..."
"Do you really think that—?"
They were cut short when a man's body was flung through the glass of the window they were beside and hit the ground running as shards flew into the air, but was promptly tripped by the cane they held and toppled painfully to the sidewalk, jeweled necklaces and rings scattering across the damp street, sparkling in the lamp lights.
The beggar that was nearby was startled awake with wide eyes.
"Oh look at that," Thomas remarked, admittedly surprised that she was right.
The police officers were right behind the thief, cuffing him securely before he had a chance to escape.
The beggar that was there slipped one of the rings into his pocket and looked the other way innocently, none of them noticing that.
"Oh it's such a burden to be so right," Amelia said as she handed Thomas back his cane smugly.
"Again, so very humble," he replied as he took it.
"I warned you about the gloating. Take it on the chin."
They stood looking over the criminal that was being forced up and into a carriage for transport. "Please, come on! Can't I just give it back?!" he pleaded but the door was shut on him.
"I suppose we can thank you for this investigation, Mr. Stone, and Ms. Everheart, he addressed with the tip of his hat accordingly. "The city owes you quite a debt."
"Happy to help, inspector," Amelia replied with a smile.
"I would advise the both of you to take a rest as this is the third criminal you've successfully chased into custody this month."
"It's our job, sir. Wouldn't have it any other way," Thomas replied politely.
"We like to put everything in its proper place, don't we?" Amelia asked her brother-in-law with a smile.
He gave her a subtle look.
"Indeed. Good evening," the inspector dismissed himself as the other two officers cleaned up the jewels and roped off the broken window for the shop.
"Well I'd say we have earned a long restful night—or what's left of it," Thomas said when he looked at his stopwatch. "What do you say, Amelia?"
"Just so..." she pulled her lips to one side. "Right after I finish some of these leads on a man who killed his wife's cat!" she said with excitement as she took off down the sidewalk towards her home, her white bob that she always refused to tie up bouncing with each step.
He stopped and rolled his eyes, shaking his head.
Amelia Everheart. She was always such a mess.
But she was also the best at what she did.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
The masked thief in black peered around the corner of the bedroom doorway, hearing the clicking of the grandfather clock at the end of the long purple rug that ran down the hall.
Watching the backside of the footman by the door, he glanced over at the jewelry box on the bedside table on the opposing side of the room, knowing he would be spotted in the man's peripheral if he tried to cut across. So he instead lifted his hand and revealed his palm to the window to the left of the clock, using a small mirror he had there to send a reflection of the light to the glass.
He then ducked back before he could be spotted doing this and counted to himself. 'Three... two...'
The sound of a bird's beak hitting the window in the hallway startled the footman and he frowned in confusion before his curiosity took over. "What the hell?" he asked and ran to the window as the bird was knocking at it repeatedly and squawking.
Behind the footman, a dark figure did a swift roll to the other side of the doorway.
Rough fingers worked delicately to pick the inside of the small lock, tiny precise movements in order for—
click
He pulled out the pick but was relieved when it wasn't broken. 'Come on, Garrett,' he scolded himself before trying again.
"You absolute pig! I cannot believe you are still attempting to defend yourself!" the woman that he guessed was at the bottom of the stairs shouted furiously.
"I haven't been the only one of us unfaithful my dear if you even remember—"
"Oh if this is about the Duke again—"
"Yes it is and how is you trying to make amends after that any different than what I am doing now?!"
'A man like the Baron a cheater? I'm rather surprised at her surprise...'
Click!
Garrett opened the jewelry box to see an assortment of bracelets, earrings, and rings. He found a nice gold bracelet and slipped it into his pouch before shutting the box again. After all, she wouldn't miss one bracelet with this kind of treasure trove in her possession.
He then moved to his real target, eyes scanning the room for signs of anything secretive, checking under the bed where all he found was a pot and that was the last thing he wanted to check...
He opened the drawers of the bedside tables, running his fingers along the bottom rims of each to search for secret compartments but nothing. His eyes then caught something that appeared like... hinges behind the painting on the left wall.
Walking over to it, he felt the sides for latches. When his fingers ran across a very small one, he pulled and the picture swung out to reveal a wall safe.
Jackpot.
"I'm the one trying to fix this—to fix us! All you care about is power... wealth... nothing. How are those things going to serve you when it's all done?" the Baron's wife was saying.
"I've given you everything! What else do you want from me?!" he replied.
Garrett kept a close listen to make sure they would stay where they were at. But he was used to being on this kind of edge as he worked.
Sticking the picks into the lock he began to work on the tumblers for the safe one at a time, this method feeling like second nature to him at this point.
His eyes were focused and fingers nimble as he worked with skills only a lifetime of picking locks could get you. This lock was harder to open than the last but he didn't slip up once.
There was a louder click when this one was unlocked but the crow outside the window banged its beak on the glass and nearly cracked it, two footmen now arguing over this bird and trying to shoo it away.
Glancing at that, the thief smirked behind his face mask and went back to what he was doing. Taking his hands that were wrapped in leather fingerless gloves, the man gripped the edges of the safe and gave it a gentle tug to release it, just hoping the hinges were properly greased which they were, thanking himself from the last time he opened this safe.
He caught a dart in his hand with wicked speed just as it shot at him.
'Trapped for me? I'm flattered,' he thought.
He twirled the dart in his fingers and kept it.
Inside the vault was some nice coin which he gladly took but what he was looking for was a ring. Searching through the dark iron container he picked up a small slip of paper. Unfolding it, he read: Meet me behind the old cobbler's place at midnight - Mae.
He raised an eyebrow and folded it back up. But when he caught the view of a small black box he reached inside and opened it to see a copper ring. Didn't seem special but the top of it was a round flat area the size of a small coin with the symbol of weighing scales carved into it.
'Curious...'
He slipped the ring into his pocket—"
"My darling- wait!" the baron's voice said as the definite sounds of angry but lightweight footsteps could be heard coming up the steps.
Garrett's eyes flashed over.
"Don't you dare call me that right now," she said back as she came into the room, passing by the footmen who were embarrassed they were not at their posts like they should have been, the crow now gone...
She stopped when she was in the bed chamber as the Baron followed after her. She looked around the room to try and make sense of what was happening in their marriage... "marriage." that word almost made her laugh. This was nothing more than an arrangement, despite how others sometimes felt in theirs. At this class, when you marry, it's for some advantage. The question was whose at this point...
Her life certainly didn't feel much better than the lives of the women who didn't know where their next meal was coming from. Perhaps that was selfish of her to think about now but was it possible to be just as miserable in plenty as it was to be in need?
"Please, Victoria," the Baron said from behind her, the candlelight catching his worn pale skin and what was left of his grey hair, dark sunken eyes that matched his interior...
Garrett stuck close to the right side of the wardrobe, hoping they wouldn't venture to this side of the room as he watched the woman with her strawberry blonde hair pinned up into a do that probably looked better at the start of the day...
She faced her husband. "What?" she demanded.
"I wanted to make amends. I left you something there, did you notice?"
She glanced at the unopened box sitting lonely on the well made bed. "Let me guess... a new pair of earrings?" she asked with her arms crossed. "Do you think this will fix anything? Has it ever? Or has it just kept me the quiet one that you want? The Obedient one... the subservient one..." She shook her head. "You're a man who will eventually understand the error of your ways faster than you think. And I'll be there to say I told you so..." She moved past him and out of the room briskly, leaving the man there to think.
There was a moment of hesitation and deep thought before his eyes flashed right, instinct telling him he was... being watched?
He furrowed his brows and began walking towards the wardrobe and window where Victoria's divider was for changing. His steps were light and careful, eyeing the area in the shadows... before he turned the corner, his suspicions not confirmed as there was nothing there...
He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose in stress before walking out of the bedchamber to shout at the footmen for whatever they were doing.
Garrett peered down from between the ceiling beams, checking the room once more before slipping back down to the shiny wood floor while making not even a creak.
He moved swiftly over to the window but stopped, turning to eye the box on the bed...
"I know I can't fix my mistake but it would mean the world to me if you accepted my gift at the very least," the Baron told his wife when he got her to come back into the room, relenting as she didn't want to put up with this any more that night.
"Fine. You win," she told him before taking the box and opening it, seeing a velvet interior where two holes for earrings were but what was there instead was a slip of paper. She frowned and opened it to read: "'Meet me behind the old cobbler's place at midnight - Mae'?" she asked and looked at him with intensity. "Is this some practical joke?!" she demanded.
His face panicked and he stuttered, "Wha-no! I was—"
"Who is Mae?!"
"I don't know what this is! I swear!" he shouted angrily as he ripped the note from her hand but he was wondering how the hell—
His eyes went up to the inside of the door and he stormed over to shut it, seeing the wanted poster of a certain thief there pinned to the wood with a very familiar dart. He yanked the paper off the wall with a tear and shouted in fury before kicking his door.
Outside the window, Garrett could hear his cursing and he couldn't help but smirk to himself as he slipped past the armed guards, watchdogs, and servants outside the grounds with the shadows on his side, undetected from every eye.
He dropped down from the other side of the manor's gate with a swift movement onto the damp cobblestone. He then pulled down his mask and looked over his shoulder, tossing up one of the earrings he took in admiration before taking off into the night...
A bit mischievous? Risky? Even cocky? Perhaps.
But he was the best at what he did.