Opening Chapter

Opening chapter introducing you to Mark Tristan and his... occupation.

A slim man dressed all in black carried a large duffel bag into the alleyway beside a jewelry store, glancing around to make certain no one had seen him enter. It was midnight and the glow of the streetlights barely reached the alley, lending a slight orange tint to the damp alley walls. The man reached into his bag and pulled out a perfectly normal looking handsaw. He lifted it up and jammed it into the brick wall of the jewelry store, the blade going through brick and mortar like a hot knife through butter.

“I love magic,” He mumbled to himself, “Completely unfair to shop owners, of course. Magical thieves are overpowered.”

His name was Mark Tristan, and he was a career jewelry thief. He'd started his spree 2 years ago, baffling police and security specialists alike. Nobody could figure out how he could could cut directly through the walls themselves, bypassing most security systems. No one ever got it right " magic was not something you could put down on a report.

He finished the last cut, stowed the saw away, and backed up to get a running start at the wall. He converted some of his magic into the aspect of durability, let it circulate around his right shoulder, and sprinted at the wall. This is going to hurt. A loud slam and a groan of pain echoed throughout the alleyway as he collided with the wall, sending it collapsing inside in a mess of brick, mortar, insulation, and shattered drywall. He stumbled a bit, catching himself on the opening, and looked around at the interior.

He'd estimated the positioning right " the hole opened straight into a bathroom, one of the least likely places to have tight security. He grabbed his bag and tossed it into the bathroom, following it in soon after. This is going surprisingly well. No, damn it, you can't think like that! I probably just jinxed myself...

Mark headed onward to the bathroom door, which fortunately wasn't locked. And that'll teach people to forget about locking all the doors. Not that it would have stopped me regardless. He opened the door and took a look around, ready for an alarm to sound at any moment. Alright, only a few yards from the display area, and it looks like most of the security is based around conventional entrances and windows. I've only really got to deal with alarms on the display cases.

The burglar grabbed his duffel bag and carefully stepped out of the bathroom, and on to the display room, taking note of any security devices. The shop had organized their jewelry in clusters sorted by metal types and gemstones, meaning he had only to find the right area to loot " he would have only so much time once the cases were broken to grab the jewelry and get out. He wandered the shop, noting what cases had what gemstones and metals displayed, estimating their value with a careful eye.

Once he'd found a group of clustered silver and gold diamond cases, he prepared his route. Okay, five closely grouped cases, and the police have a 7 minute average response time for this area. I'll say a full minute to get away and be in the clear. My car is right around the corner, so a minute and a half max to get there and start driving. Two and a half minutes to grab as much jewelry as possible.

Mark headed over to the case furthest from the bathroom, and prepared himself for the mad dash to come, a bead of sweat dropping from his face. Nothing you haven't done before, Mark, this is not the time to get the jitters. The tinkling of shattered glass filled the air, quickly followed by the chinking of colliding jewelry. Looks like it's a silent alarm, this time.

He quickly emptied the case, moving on to the next, and clinking filled the air as another case was vandalized. One minute down. He quickly did the same with the smaller third case, and finished off with the fourth and fifth single item display cases. Two minutes. He made a mad sprint for the bathroom, streaking through the door and forgetting about the smooth tile flooring. He slid across the bathroom floor, slammed into a stall, and wasted precious time recovering his balance from the near fall. Jogging much more carefully now, he threw the bag through the opening in the wall, and vaulted over himself immediately after. Three minutes, thirty seconds.

Mark sprinted out of the alley and down the sidewalk, faintly hearing the sound of approaching sirens. Damn it! Faster than I thought! He spotted his car as he came around the corner, readying his keys. Stopping himself with his car, he hurriedly jammed his keys into lock, opened the door, and threw bag across the driver seat. He jumped in, slammed his keys into the ignition, and floored it, the sounds of the engine mixing with the approaching sirens. Sweat steadily dripped from his brow, and his hands shook lightly on the wheel. Please be fast enough, please be fast enough! I am not getting into a fight with the police!

The sirens steadily dropped off into background noise, eventually being overpowered by the engine.

“Damn that was close,” Mark murmured aloud to himself, “They haven't gotten that close to me in more than a year.

I really shouldn't have hit a store so close to the station.” He started on his way home, an hour long drive to the shore of the Central America Crater Lake.

Author's Note

Don't know how I feel about the italics, but any other method I tried felt disconnected and stilted. Ignore lack of indents, please, they don't copy over.