Thief - Open

TheNiteSiren

Virginal Temptress
Joined
Apr 13, 2013
Posts
1,434
The Superdome was packed with people in New Orleans, a prime environment for someone like me, a thief. It was a wrestling event playing through this time. I had watched with the old man when I was little but couldn't watch as often while living on the streets. I learned long ago that the only person I could count on was myself. I had counted on my mother once and she died on me, leaving me with my old man. The only thing he did well was pick out a good bottle of scotch. My name was Cyren Fontenot, age : 24 and a professional thief before I even hit 15 years old.

I had somehow managed to sneak backstage where the Superstars and Divas had congregated. With all this confusion, I was sure that I could get away with a good haul before anyone could catch me. These guys had piss poor security which made it easy for me to find myself in one of the empty locker rooms. "Easy fucking pickings." I whispered as I began going through some of bags left there. Credit cards were too easy to track but Jewelry and cash would keep me fed for a while. In total I had lifted two watches, a ring and about $475 in cash. That would buy a good coat once the cold weather really kicked in here.

I snuck out as easily as I got in. My body froze when I heard a man yelling. It was pretty obvious that I didn't belong. As soon as I heard running feet coming my way, I pulled up my hood and took off. I was far from defenseless. Alot of people lived on the streets of New Orleans. One in particular had taught me how to protect myself. She had never told me her story but from what I could tell, she was a former soldier. I lost her last winter when pneumonia had finally caught hold of her and never let go. I still left flowers on the mark where she would sleep near Bourbon street. I owed her a debt.

These guys were going to have to pick it up if they wanted to catch me. "Bunch of pussies." I laughed and flipped over a vendor, landing on my feet like a cat. Someone must have finally caught up because a pair of strong hands gripped the back of my hoodie. I lashed out with a kick, trying to break loose. From the look in this guy's eyes, I had just made the situation worse.
 
Carter Dixon: 34. Athlete, past high school wrestler and adrenaline junky. Currently convalescing from a fall suffered while rock climbing.

How the hell had this punk gotten in here. Some fucking skater boy complete with eye shadow. Where the hell did these guys come from, and more to the point, how do they keep getting in? At least I knew I could overpower him. He wasn't that big.

Jerry was winded before we got to the corner, and Russell had bowled over some poor old woman. She'd never seen it coming. That left me. The skater wasn't even looking back as he ran. He was quick, and he seemed more powerful than I had originally given him credit for. I saw what his plan was. He dodged slightly to the right as he approached a vendor's cart and flipped it. There was no way I'd catch him if he carried straight on, but my guess was he would make a hard left hoping that I'd go around the cart to the right. I was on the money.

I'd squeezed past the cart on the left. There was hardly enough room for me, but I managed. I caught the punk's arm and grabbed a fistful of orange hood just as he was about to head down the next hallway.

Sometimes you're just not ready for an upheaval of your world. You expect to see one thing, and suddenly, it's something different than what you expected. The kid was one of thoise guys that has a very effeminate look - the kind that makes a straight guy wonder if maybe he has a little interested in other guys. He struggled and turned back away, but I got my arm around him and - holy crap, a breast! The skater punk wasn't a guy; it was a young woman who felt as if she could use a really good meal.

I guess I hesitated, because a blow to my knee threw me slightly off balance. She glanced at me, and I could see fear in the woman's eyes. I didn't want to hurt a woman. I hesitated again. She wrenched my arm and I flinched as my rotator cuff, which I'd been nursing for about two weeks, gave me a stab of pain that almost made me howl. If I could just hang on for a few more seconds, one of the other guys would show up and help me tame this little wildcat.

It was at that moment I realized I'd seen her before, but I couldn't remember when or where. My mind got in my way. I tried to hold her so I could get a better look at her instead of doing my best to keep her under control. That's when I saw her mouth twist into a sadistic sneer.
 
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I tried to wiggle out of th guy's grasp but he was strong. There were more people heading towards us. The last I needed was to be arrested and sent to some shelter...again. Using the wall as leverage, I climbed upwards and rounded on him with a vicious kick to the face. Somehow I screwed up because he caught it and me before the blow could ever make its mark. "Let go of me!"

One other guy showed up and I was being restrained while they searched my pockets. That was when the last few days finally caught up with me. I was already pretty tiny and the last few days I maybe had a few pieces of fruit that I stole from some lady's garden up by Esplanade. I started to get really dizzy. "Yo, Carter. She don't look good, man." Before I could say a word, darkness overtook me.

When I finally came to, they had me splayed out in the doctor's area. I was on some kind of gurney, cuffs on my wrists. "Oh fucking hell!" This wasn't one of the worse episodes but the timing was just plain bad. I needed that money to feed myself and maybe get a room at some cheap motel to stay out of the cold.

Good thing I always carried a pick up my sleeve. I started working on my right wrist, which was kind of hard in this position. The damn pick fell to the floor, making a loud clang noise. Someone came through the curtain and I knew my goose was cooked. "You always cuff girls while they're unconscious? Didn't think they looked too kindly upon that in your line of work." My accent was a deep Cajun drawl that dripping New Orleans in every syllable.
 
The side of Carter's face was on the way to being a purple, swollen cheek. The girl flinched at the sight of it. She cowered and tried to pull free.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Carter said. "You're in pretty rough shape."

No reply. Her eyes wandered. Clearly she wanted to get away, but truth is truth whether you want to get away or not. A woman entered the room carrying a tray with a thermos, two cups, and a stack of sandwiches and set it on a small table in the corner of the room just beside the door.

"Pretty stupid wearing an orange hoody, don't you think? I mean, grey, fine... blue, black ... shit, anything but orange. Do you want a sandwich, or should I eat all this myself?"

Carter shrugged when he got no response. He poured himself a coffee, gingerly attempted to nibble on a sandwich, and dropped onto a chair. The girls eyes were following his every move.

"You know, this fucking hurts," he said, pointing to his cheek. He let out a heavy sigh. "Come on. Do you promise not to run if I uncuff you?"

"Okay."

The lying little bitch. Carter attached a cuff to a crossbar on a chair and lifted it to the gurney. He cuffed it to her leg and placed it on top of her, un-cuffed her hands, and lifted her and the chair effortlessly off the gurney and plopped her down on the seat. He lifted the chair and carried her to the table.

“Can I have a coffee?”

“No. Water for you. You’re dehydrated. You can have a coffee after.” The girl scowled but reached for a sandwich. Carter felt sorry for the little thing.

“You know, Cyren, you think you’re pretty smart, but in and out of juvie, in and out of court, half way houses. This clearly isn’t working for you.” Carter smiled at the look on her face. He tossed her birth certificate on the table in front of her. She clutched her left breast. “Of course we found it. Actually, I felt it when I grabbed you.”

“How do you know about my past?”

“I’ve got a friend at the police station. He gave me the lowdown, then asked if you’d done something wrong. I told him I’d get back to him.

“I was just like you, Cyren. I used to be a thief. Only difference was, I never got caught. Things are getting tight, now. It’s harder to find work. I’ve got fewer and fewer choices. I’m offering to give you a place to live and take you on as my partner. I’ll train you and help you to blend in. But if you ever cross me, there would be hell to pay.”

“What’s my option?”

Carter stood and pushed his chair in to the table. “Jail.”

Cyren laughed. “It’s petty theft. I’ll be out in no time.”

“I don’t think so. You got some cheap stuff, but you also got a $100,000 Rolex. That puts you in the big time.”

“I did not. I got a couple of junk watches, a couple of cheap rings, and some cash.” Her jaw dropped when the Rolex hit the table.

“You did get a Rolex, Cyren. I found it when I searched you. Oh, and the answer to your question is no.”

“No?” Her voice was soft.

“I don’t normally handcuff unconscious girls. Usually they’re conscious. I'll be out in the hallway once you've made your decision.”
 
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Cyren rolled her eyes at him and took a bite of the sandwich. It had been a very long time since she had a good meal. From the sounds of it, she didn't have much of a choice in the matter. His threats didn't bother her much. She had fought day and night just to survive. No one was going to take her down, not without a fight.

"You have me planted in the corner, so to speak." She took a sip of water, trying to make the meal last. Cyren knew better than to rush a meal. It would only result in making her sick. "I will do it." She muttered to herself. "Still say that watch was a fake though."

Someone peaked through the curtain and Cyren caught a glimpse of blue eyes. "Yo, Carter. What the hell you doing here? Hurt that ankle again or something?" The man known as Dean Ambrose walked through. The man just lived to annoy the younger rookie but it was all in good fun.

He got a peek at Cyren and smiled. She felt a blush creep up into her cheeks. Those damn dimples were very sexy. "Heya, kid." Cyren just smirked. "I'm no kid." He could tell right away that they had something in common. Both were street kids, you never forgot that look.

"I like her. Hope she sticks around. Later, Carter." He winked at Cyren and left. This was an interesting turn of events. "What's next?"
 
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