II have to hold here for a second and catch my breath. He feels his pocket and gives a breath of relief. Scanning the area with his eyes and occasionally looking behind him. "Come on man, get your shit together." They’re sirens in the distance. Gradually getting louder. There’s a slew of footsteps closing in. "I have to focus." His feet are at the edge of a building, and he’s staring at a twenty-foot gap to the next roof and forty feet to the ground. "Not many options here." The footsteps are even louder now, and a couple of voices follows them. He scans again hoping there’s something he missed. Some way other than what he’s thinking. "I saw him go this way, keep moving. he can’t get far up here." The voice is a police officer. One of four following him. The only way out of here is over the ledge. I’ve got to stay focused; there’s no way I’m getting caught now. This can’t be the end. No way in hell am I getting popped like this. I have got too much to think about. "You over there, on the ledge FREEZE." It’s now or never, I have to do this. I just need to breathe and go for it. He takes a breath and jumps. His body hangs in the air for a moment, but it seems like forever. Then a crash. He lands on the fire escape of the next building. Rolling down a couple of staircases and most assuredly he’s crushed a few ribs. For what it was worth though it seemed to be worth it. He reaches his hand up and grabs onto the ledge of the fire escape and uses it to bring himself to his feet. "This is exactly why I hate being here." He taps his pocket and then braces his ribs with one hand and uses the other to guide himself down the stairs. After what seemed like sixty stairs, he finds himself to ground level and at a two-minute head start from his hunters. He races into a few different directions a left and then a right. Another right and then into a late night market. Getting to the other side and then acquiring a taxi then he’s safe and on his way home. As he sits in the back of the cab, he reaches into his pocket pulling out a little bag. It’s black, and velvet with a string looped through the top to pull it closed with. He unties the loose knot and pours the contents into his hands. Diamonds. Even in the dark cab you can see them shine. He quickly pours them back into the bag and puts it in his pocket. He checks the cabbies eyes to see if they were wandering to the back. They weren’t, he was too busy listening to the political radio he had on just a bit too loud. As anyone who listens to talk radio. Always afraid you’ll miss something. "Do you mind, uh.....Ma...hesh"? The driver looks at him in the mirror for a second and then turns the dial down. "So, Mahesh, am where does that name come from"? The driver sighs, "It’s Hindu, it means great ruler." "Oh, actually, Great leader." He repeats. "Yes, and what is your name?" The man looks around for a second. "Chris... my name’s Chris." "And what, does Chris mean?" He thinks for a second and then leans forward and then back adjusting himself then looking out the window. "You know I have no idea; I think my mom said one time that it had something to do with Christ and a bear. I don’t know for sure, though." The driver pulls off to the side of the road and throws the car in park, "That’ll be $14.60, Christ Bear." Chris pulls out his wallet and throws him a twenty dollar bill then starts leaving the vehicle. The Cabbie yells over to him. "Change" Chris yells back "Keep it oh, Great Ruler." Chris stretches his arms for a second and is quickly reminded of his ribs. "Fuck" he shouts and then looks around to see if there’s anyone in earshot. There’s no one. He then precedes to start walking down the street. "Time to get home." He’s done this a few times, and he can’t have a cabbie drop him off right at his apartment after a hit. The streets are empty but still pretty loud. Cars in the distance, every so often you hear a siren, it doesn’t concern him. How would they be able to know it was him, there’s no way anyone saw his face. He wasn’t out of a mask until he was on the roofs. By then he had lost all the heat. Every couple of buildings or so you hear a couple fighting it’s always the same kind of shit. She’s telling him he drinks too much, and he’s telling her to get him another beer. It’s alway the same old shit. Chris clinches onto his ribs "Damn this hurts, it never gets easier no matter how many times it happens." He had indeed done this before, actually, only a few months ago he had finally healed from the last set of cracked ribs. "Damn is it fun, though. What a rush, nothing like it." He approached the apartment with caution, at this point there was no need, but then again safe is safe. The building is just like all the rest around it. An old red brick and white brick border. All of the windows have bars on them that look like they’ve been there since it was built. Evidence of it being a rough neighborhood. Probably the reason the old timers that have lived here forever seem to get along alright on their own. They’ve been dealing with this for a while. The doorway has one small light in the middle of the outside entry way. It flickers a lot. With that and the view through the glass window on the door exposing the lobby, you get a real feel of a horror hotel. The walls have loose wallpaper, and the floors are stained brown and yellow. Which isn’t so bad seeing as how only half the lights in their work anyway, so it’s not as you can it all at night. Making his way up the chipped stairway to the third floor, he passed a couple of stray cats and some loose toys. Walking up to his door he reaches above the trim and grabs a key, and he starts to unlock the door. Not really any need to lock the door since whoever’s going to break in will do it with their foot knocking on the door. The apartment is small and matches the lobby in decor. Chris walks in the kitchen turning on a light and throwing the loot onto the counter. He reaches for a remote sitting by his coffee pot and turns the living room television on. Opening the refrigerator and grabbing a beer he hears the news reporter talking about his latest score. "In local news, the Museum of European historical artifacts was robbed tonight. The assailant was able to avoid the buildings large security system and get away with what he was looking for. Police suspect it was a very well planned heist because with a large amount of items in the museum the thief made off with only one item. An important set of diamonds. The diamonds have a traced lineage to ancient Egypt and were brought here on a special exhibit due to only be here for the weekend. They are valued to be worth an astonishing three hundred and fifty thousand dollars. It also lures the investigators to believe the thief had followed this item for quite some time. There are no leads so far on the identity of the thief but the detective handling the case, Detective Warren had this to say, "The camera changes to a previously recorded interview with the detective "We believe that the thief is still in the city and with many officers we have setting up a perimeter around the city we think he won’t be able to make it out past us. We also have no further comment on the issue at this time but will notify the public of any changes as the case develops." The shot goes back to the reporter. "The police are asking that anyone with information should call your local police..." Chris clicks the television off. " Yeah, three fifty if they’re not hot. I’ll be lucky to see seventy with all the cuts that are going to go into it. Not to mention all the equipment I had to get. No one ever things of the cost of equipment." Some had been left behind but most of what wasn’t needed to be disposed of to avoid leaving an evidence trail. "Not too many ways to explain night-vision goggles and security camera tapes to the police." Chris walks into the living room and sits down on his couch. No more than a second later the phone in front of him rings. Chris lets out a sigh and leans forward and answers it. "Yea?" The voice on the other side is a deep voice and mono-toned "Come to dinner at Grandma’s house tomorrow." Chris waits for a second and then chimes in " Are we having Steak or Turkey?" The voice answers immediately "Steak, bring a salad." Then the person on the other line hangs up. Chris tosses the phone down onto the couch. "Yep, exactly as I thought 70."