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thatdarncat (thatdarncat) wrote in silverage,

What a hideous night it had been.

It started off innocently enough - she had been casing a high-rise for several days, and finally was ready to make the take. It was a statue she was after. It had been a while since she had taken artwork, having preferred jewelry for the past few months. It was easier to hide, easier to sell after she was bored with it. Statues were bulky and difficult to get rid of. This one, however, she was planning on keeping. A sterling cat, inlaid with sapphires. It had been a while since her name had been in the papers, now that they were primarily concerned with the sudden influx of new residents (which she was still in a bit of denial over, but it seemed to be more widely accepted these days). She wanted her persona back in the people's thoughts, not to scare the wealthy, but to remind the pimps and criminal profiteers of the alleyways that she was still around. She had been lethargic in that area lately, having only made minor hits for necklaces and such. Guilt was starting to hit her about this, especially since crime had been exploding in the past few months. It was time to be a face of protection again, at least for those who truly needed it.

Well, that was the plan, anyway.

Scaling the building had been a piece of cake. Getting into the apartment was easy, as always. It was the Doberman she wasn't expecting. She had never seen him in all her research, never heard him bark, never saw his owners take him outside. She was reluctant to fight against him, at least until he sank his teeth into her calf. She subdued him easily, tying his legs together and putting him gently in the bathroom, while he growled and spat all the while.

Limping into the dining room, she grabbed the statue with exhausted satisfaction, and began the now excruciating climb back down to the streets. Her leg was wet with blood, throbbing with every movement. She made her way to the fire escape. Unaware that her boot was slick with her own blood, she slipped and fell onto the next platform, landing with a crash on her side. She shifted, and a jolt of pain shot through her torso. Her ribs were broken.

She laid there in wretched pain for almost half an hour, resisting the urge to black out. How could she let herself get into this situation? She had gotten smug, and from there, had gotten sloppy.

"Get up," she told herself, "Get the hell up, and get out of here,"

She gingerly made her way down the ladder, onto the street. She removed her goggles and her hood, stuffing them into the breast pocket inside her suit. She took a moment to catch her breath. She couldn't get a cab, or take the subway.

Looked like she would have to walk. Grinding her teeth and standing tall, she grabbed a filthy blanket from a dumpster. She pulled it up over her head, and hunched over, hoping she looked destitute. Now to walk the painful fifteen blocks back to her apartment.

She made it three blocks before she had to stop. She leaned up against a wall, panting. As soon as she did, there was some loud commotion, and suddenly a young boy running towards her. God, now what?