December 22nd. Three days till Christmas and he was trying to ruins someone's X-Mas (or was he?). Why would anyone, even someone as disgusting and lowborn as himself, do that? Why would he go ahead and decide to play another game of chance with fate and decide to rob someone? Or something? Stealing from elitists of society, from the challengers of the game, and from the corrupt of the government was one thing, but from a simple store of the people? It seemed morally wrong. It was morally wrong. The answer: Why not?
Sliding down a angled roof and onto the near-stable icy rooftop of the store located near his old friend the blind bum on the street. Good fellow, he was helping the Salvation Army, bless his heart. Chuckling as he slid to a stop, Syrius glanced down into the store to see any likely targets for the toys he wanted to steal later on. Shrugging, Syrius turned and headed over to the edge of the building and was about to jump to another one when he suddenly slipped on a bit of black ice. Cursing himself for a fool, Syrius was suddenly falling forward into the abyss that was a deep alleyway when his fingers clutched onto the side of the building he was falling from and gripped it in a death grip. Almost yelling out in pain as his shoulder nearly dislocated from the sudden yank of all his weight on one hand, Syrius bit his lip and shut his eyes as tears of pain fell down his cheeks. And suddenly, he was remembering something.
Dashing down a hallway with a whole handful of folders in his hands, Syrius was gasping for breath as he turned a corner and heard a sudden ricochet of bullets impacting on concrete, followed by their loud reports of BANG BANG. He was being chased by his once-fellow employees through what once was his work, caring files of corruption and greed that they didn't wish to be published. He needed to publish them. Needed to. But he needed to survive first...
Snapping back into the present, Syrius shook his head and felt his eyes still watering as he hung from the side of a building... and realization hit him like a stone (finally). Throwing his other hand up and quickly pulling himself up and safely back onto the roof, Syrius gasped for breath as he felt his arms ache from the small but near-deadly mistake. Looking upon this mistake, Syrius thought carefully of what he been planning to do earlier. Hearing the random but loud voice of the bum across the street shouting to someone, "Smilings is my favorite!", Syrius pulled himself to his feet with a grunt and walked over to a ladder leading down into the alleyway of near-death.
Maybe he didn't need to make one person's life unhappy to make another one's happy. Checking for the wad of cash he always has on hand, Syrius thought about what had happened and everything about tonight. Why would he want to buy the gifts instead of steal them for the children at the orphanage? Why wouldn't he do what he do best to get them? Why would he have a heart at all and let this fall affect his thinking? Walking around the building and into the front door of the store, Syrius shrugged. Why not?
