In brightest day... in blackest night, no money shall escape my sight! Let those who worship money's might, beware my powertools -- Syrius Hawkins's might! … I seriously read too many comics as a kid... In the falling twilight of this Ides of March, a lone figure made his way along the lonely Thieves’ Highway, many feet away from the true roads below. Step by gentle step, grip by grip, Syrius crawled over the roof of Walter’s Lanes on his way to a particular dead-beat job in the strip club. Supposedly a nice stash of cash was there that he could relieve them of... If he could get there without being noticed. It was a busy hour and he could tell that it would be interesting to sneak in.

Keeping his silhouette low and his pace steady, the thief thought of his time in this small city. A reputation, his reputation, had been growing throughout the city in his time here for the past few months. Items disappeared, money slipped from fingers, and more then a few men and women had found their petty tactics of crushing competition didn’t work. Nobody would be able to escape his thievery to help those who couldn’t help themselves... Man, he really shouldn’t have read all those comics when he was younger. Affecting his thinking now. He was no hero, just some thief. A good one at that, but still a thief. Oh well, no one can be perfect. My living is stealing from the honest and dishonest folk alike. Too bad for them.

Coming to the edge of the bowling alley’s rooftop and to the vast cavern that was the road below, Syrius looked down and about before tightening his backpack and ensuring his clothing was on properly. Glad to see nothing needed fixing, he fixed his eyes upon the thick metal cable running from this building to the club. A TV cable or power cord, he didn’t know nor care. It was his safe, quiet and easy passage from one building to the next. And who would think to look up into the black sky at a simple cord? Nobody, that’s who. Pulling himself onto the wire and ensuring he was on securely, Syrius slowly began pulling himself across the wire. Slow and steady wins the race... Fast just means dead.

Wanting to hum as he crossed the chasm, he froze as he suddenly heard a noise. Shouting from somewhere in the distance... Keeping still to ensure it wasn’t about him, Syrius quickly pulled himself across the remaining distance to the strip club’s relatively safe roof and pulled himself up onto it, gritting his teeth to hold back a grunt as he hauled his fat ass over the concrete railing.

Landing with a small thud on the actual roof of the building, he stood up and crouch-walked over to the other side where he could see Castle Apartments. It had come from over there... but where specifically? And whom screamed? He couldn’t tell, not yet... Reaching into his belt for his small pair of binoculars, Syrius began searching the streets for any activity. Nothing... Nothing... Aha! A mugging... Simple, too easy, too much attention, dangerous. Idiot. And poor victim... Scared at of his or her mind.

Watching as the events unfolded of the dash for freedom with the loot, the screaming victim and the sirens of a cop answering the plea for help, the thief sighed unhappily as he crouched down low to continue to observe. Why do something so unnecessarily loud, complicated... It didn’t nothing to help anyone, especially yourself. Caused yourself to be caught easier, put trauma on the victim... Many different variables to consider. Shrugging, Syrius resigned himself to just watch and wait. His own job would come soon, later in the evening when activity died down even more. Who cared about something like that. Still, it stayed on his mind for the long while he sat up there, hidden away and awaiting the time to move on his target down below...