The saying goes: “No thief in Neo Rossi is famous during his prime.”

Or, something like that.

Doesn’t matter how it goes, cause there’s nothing truer in this line of work. You can say what you want about the Sonic Screws and Chrissy Berries out there. But, if you ask anyone, they’ll tel you that isn’t the real deal. Those guys are all about the show. A real thief will tell you fame isn’t anything you want. It’s just a giant bullseye tailing on you the job.

And, believe me, the last thing you want is a giant bullseye. A bullseye attracts attention, and not just the ordinary kind. Every thief knows the PD keeps an eye out on even the lowbies, but fame brings a lot more eyes. The eyes of the Chivaliants, eyes of crazy vigilantes, and even worse, eyes of other thieves. There’s nothing worse than a lowbie trying to make a name for themselves.

Of course, I bet you’re wondering about ‘honor among thieves’? Yeah, okay. That’s cute. The only thing a thief honors is fear. Nobody tries anything when they’re scared of you, and there’s nothing scarier than the unknown. So, a good thief will do everything he can to hide what makes them tick; strengths, weaknesses, favorite shoes.

And, that’s the problem with fame. It’s a spotlight, and it brings everything into focus. So, only an idiot tries anything when they’re famous.

That’s why I’m here.

It was at some dive called Rally’s where we arranged to meet. Nine o’clock, at the table farthest from the entrance. I told her to be punctual, and wear something nice. It was ten-thirty when she showed. She moved like smoke under the dim lights of the bar. She was grace and seduction, wafting through a crowd, unnoticed and almost invisible. She was a specter among ghosts. But, I saw her. How couldn’t you? Short platinum hair, smooth mocha skin, deep dark eyes that looked like the night; all held together by a body of curves. It was hard to miss.

“Mr. Eugene Ortiz?” She said, holding out a delicate, well-manicured hand. I looked at it, grinning. After extending my own, I took her with a firm grip. Her skin was just how I imagined it; soft and smooth. This girl’s never worked a job in her life, and here she is with me. I almost couldn’t hold back my laughter as she introduced herself. “My name’s Alyson Marcos. I’m here representing my father, Laur—”

“Listen, I know who you are. And, there’s no chance in Hell I don’t know who your daddy is.” I said. I tightened grip, and pulled her close. Her muscles tensed, I could feel her try and pull back. The effort was cute, and she was pretty strong for someone her size. I like a girl who tries to fight back, but she needed to know this was business. “Don’t go advertising your name outdoors like that, babe. You don’t know who’s listening.”

“Seriously?” She said, rolling her eyes. “Fine. Mike Rector, right?”

“That’s right, and I don’t care that your pops is Laurent the Cross. He’s a legend, and not a man here that doesn’t know the name. So, we’re safe to talk, but show some respect for the rules.”

“Fine. Fine. Why don’t we get down to business?”

“Yeah, babe. Let’s.” I said, and slid a brown envelope across the table.

“You know, I was shocked to get your message. You’re making a name for yourself, I didn’t think you’d want anyone to do a big job for you.” She said, opening the envelope. Her long, delicate fingers removed its contents, and began to sift through the pages. There was a twinkle in her eye, a spark of familiarity and excitement. It got brighter with every page, until her interest was painful and obvious. No mistake, this girl was the Cross’s daughter. “And, this is definitely a big job.”

“Like what you see, babe?”

“Stealing the Crystal Hawk from the Church of Avann? Color me impressed, I didn’t think anyone would be crazy enough to try for it.”

“It’s all there, every detail.” I said, and signaled the waitress for a drink. “I didn’t leave a thing to chance.”

“I can see that. It’s all here. Doesn’t look like the Magistrates upgraded their security since the last time I cased them for dad. Nanomist scanners, plasma barrier, a few blood sample identification locks. Still the same, still pretty impenetrable.”

“You know your stuff.” I said, as the waitress placed down my usual; a nice scotch, neat. “Security nerds are hot. Anyway, there’s a kick. Tomorrow night’s the big purge.”

“Just like last year, and every year before that. What’s the difference?”

“This year every PD officer will be sent to control the crowds, they’ve even committed the Chivaliants to maintain order in the lower rings.” I said, swirling my glass a bit. “At worst, there’s a few rent-a-cops at the church. At best, it’s a complete cake walk.”

“So why ask for my dad? Sounds like you have everything covered.” She said, my drink in her hand. She was quicker than I thought.

“Listen, like you said, I’m making a name for myself. Besides, your dad’s the only person who’s ever gotten in and out of there. If anyone can pull it off, it’d be him.”

“Fair point. No thanks.” She said, took a shift drink of my scotch, and stood up.

“Wait. What’s the problem? I’m paying far more than you asked.”

“Even if this job was as easy as you think, getting the Hawk is just half the problem. When you get out, the Chivaliants would show up. And, if they don’t catch you there, they’d never stop searching until they had the Hawk back.”

“Is that all?” I said with a laugh. “You leave that to me, sweet cakes.”

“Sweet cakes?”

“If your old man can get the Hawk, I’ll make sure no one ever bothers searching for it.”

“Don’t you sound confident? What’s your secret?”

“Babe, you never spoil the twist ending.”

“I guess you don’t. Okay. We’re in.”

“So, standard deal? Half now, half—”

“Full upon delivery. Dad’s a stickler for quality, so if we can’t pull it off, no point in paying anything.”

“Honor among thieves, huh?”

“There are rules, right?”

As she turned to walk away, I grabbed her by her thin wrist and leaned close. “Before you go, tell me why your dad back in the business? I heard he was done after he had you. But, here he is, 20 years later doing small time jobs all over the place. What’s he up to?”

“Wouldn’t want to spoil anything, right?” She said, and smiled. That smile could melt the arctic. So, I let it go. There was business to attend to.

And, there was plenty of business at the Church of Avann. I’ve been casing the place for years, but you never stop being intimidated by it. It’s a piece of work; more fortress than house of worship. That’s probably the point, but you’d almost never think that while the sun was up.

Visitors from all over Neo Rossi and beyond came to the church during the day. Tourists and pilgrims mixing it up with beggars and pickpockets. And, if you looked hard enough, it wasn’t a surprise to find at least two other thieves casing the place. None of them would ever get close to breaking in. It was a pipe dream.

Well, not for everyone.

I rode the tour bus for a last go before the big night. There’s something entertaining about watching the out-of-towners gawk at the church. They’re always so in awe. Always so eager to enjoy the show.

“Ladies and gentlemen, you’re in for a treat!” The guide said as our bus started down the road. Typical tour guide, blue swede uniform, stupid hat, and the airs of someone that didn’t want to be there. She also wasn’t much to look at, which was a shame. “Today is the start of Neo Rossi’s Annual Redistricting Celebration! If you didn’t know, each year, our beast-men brothers and sisters are given the opportunity to relocate to brand new homes on the frontier. Our glorious leaders established today as a festival with fireworks, music, and revelry in of honor the bravery and generosity displayed by the beast-men.”

That’s when they usually cheer, and they did. The guide took some questions, all the same ones I’ve heard before. They ooo’d and ah’d, and snapped pictures of the passing monuments. I leaned back, thinking a nap would do right about now. And, that’s when I heard her.

“I bet it’s a great time of year— unless you’re a beast-man.” Alyson said in her smoky drawl. “Poor horned sons of bitches, but I bet they’re big fans of the fireworks.”

“Ma’am, please.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Causing trouble, sweet cakes?” I said.

“Just taking in the sights. What about you?” She said, her glare never veering from the tour guide. Poor girl, she was starting to sweat. It was like watching someone in a staring match with the sun.

“You know, feel for them. I do.” I said.

“Is that so?” She said, pushing back some of her platinum hair behind an ear.

“Yeah. No one chooses to be born an inferior freak, but that’s what they got. Besides, we all know what happens. What really happens, that is.” I said, and pulled a cigarette out of my jacket. I offered one to Alyson, but she waved it away. “Anyone with claws or hooves gets an escort from the middle rings down to the luxurious wastelands of the outskirts. Not all of them, of course.”

“You know everything, huh?”

“I feel for them. But, it isn’t my problem.”

“No, I guess it isn’t.” She said, and hopped off the bus.

Nope, it wasn’t my problem. In fact, this year I might be a little happy to see the purge. The beasties were in a particular fervor this year. There’s been talk about riots, or whatever, all week. All I know is that it must have scared all the high-lifers, cause no one’s seen that kind of overkill in a long time. Guards, barriers, whatever they could spare. That’s fine by me. While they keep themselves busy, driving tanks into picketers, I’ll be seeing about a Hawk.

And, all I had to do is break into the Church of Avann.

When I arrived later the night, the bells of the tolled. Five tolls as the purge started, five more for the end. It was almost hard to believe an old fart like the Cross was already inside. The exterior was immaculate, not even a tiny sign of entry. I’d be the first to admit, he still had the touch.

If the rumors were legit, and the Cross was anywhere close to his prime, it’d take him thirty minutes to get around the security. Then, another twenty to get the Hawk out of the main vault. Best guess, the Cross could escape the church before the last toll.

Kind of a tragedy that the Hawk he was risking his neck for was just a replica. I bet he’d be pissed.

Of course the real Crystal Hawk wasn’t in the main vault. Any smart thief would’ve known that, but him and that daughter of his were so desperate to be back in the spotlight they jumped at a chance to do the job. It’s pretty sad.

Though, I’ll give it to the fine sweet cake. She was right. Getting to the real vault wasn’t the problem. Nope. A climb along the walls to the auxiliary ducts above, and I’d be in. But, who climbs when you can steal the maintenance girl’s keycard? The Cross did all the hard work for me. Cameras were disabled. Scanners were stuck on a feedback loop. Anything automated was deaf and dumb, staring into the darkness.

I planned on sending him a thank you card when everything was done. I imagined the legendary Cross jumping over rotating plasma barriers while I strolled down the service hall. There was something hilarious about it. There I was grabbing a soda from the vending machine, and somewhere in the building Laurent Marcos was holding his breath hoping the nanomist doesn’t dissolve his lungs. It sounded like a lot of work, but like I said: that wasn’t the problem.

The problem was the Chivaliants. They’d never stop hunting down the thief who took the Crystal Hawk. Night and day, forever and forever. I didn’t need that. What did I need was a patsy, someone to go for the Hawk and get caught.

Someone famous.

I took the elevator up to the eighth floor, and stared at my watch. It was already at fifteen minutes, and the bells rang for the third time. If the Cross wasn’t as good as he used to be, there would be twelve minutes to get out before the Chivaliants showed. There were plenty of spots to slip away unseen. But, it wasn’t the time to worry about minutia, I was at the fun part.

Just me, a long hallway, some old statues, and a laser grid.

That takes six minutes, tops.

It’s not something I let out in public, but I have a soft spot for laser grids. They’re a fun old-school security measure. They look impressive; all these beams of light gliding through the air in almost random directions. To a lowbie, it looks impossible, but that’s why they’re lowbies. Every grid has a pattern, a rhythm. It’s only a matter of figuring out the dance.

Not ashamed to admit, there was a little bounce in my step as counted the beats. You could hear them as the beams of red soared by. Three. Two. One.

Okay, let’s jam.

I dipped into the field, left foot first. Hopped to the right. Bent to the left. Side-stepped. Spun. Backed up. Bowed.

I almost felt bad about how easy this way. There wasn’t even a need to duck into the grid’s safe spot. But, why not? I had six bells left. So, I slipped between two lions, and took a second to light a cigar. I mean, why wait on formalities?

A few puffs later, I was back dodging beams. The second half of the grid wasn’t any different from the first. It’s the same dance, the same song. Dip and weave. And I was through.

Behind some wooden double doors, in a dim chamber, the Crystal Hawk sat all alone on a broad altar. There were no locks, no layers of ballistic glass, nothing. Just a bunch of candles and a priceless artifact. God, I loved the religious.

It only took a second before she was sitting in my hands, a beautiful sculpture carved out of the rarest gemstone in the world. Even in the dim of night, it sparkled like a fallen star. It was fantastic. It was breath taking. And, it was a fake.

A perfect fake, too. Maybe the most perfect fake ever. Any guard or clergyman who visited would never tell the difference. And, by the time an expert happened to examine it, it would have been too late. Someone beat me here, and there wasn’t time to figure out how.

I needed to place everything back in position, make sure no one noticed a break in happened. The room was undisturbed on the whole, I was more than good there. All I had to do as put back the knock-off and make my way out. But, as I placed down that fake, I saw it.

On the altar was a note, and it read: “Looks like you’re gonna be famous, sweet cakes.”

I had to laugh. It wasn’t even a shock that the Chivaliants poured into the altar chamber at the exact moment. The alarm was tripped minutes ago. Maybe even before I arrived. I tried to hide my laughter as the cuffs wrapped around my wrists, but I couldn’t resist.

“What’s so funny?” The Chivaliant said from behind an armored helm.

“I wouldn’t want to spoil it.”

When I appeared outside the church doors, the last tolls of the bell rang out over Neo Rossi. A few camera crews and microphones waited to greet as I made my grand exit. It was nothing but flashes and reporters waiting to get my story. And, as the Chivaliants loaded me into the wagon, I saw her exposed in brief flashes by the thundering fireworks. She stood quiet and alone, shimmering platinum hair and a wide smile, watching the Chivaliants take me away.

She made me famous.