Zianna

I stretched and yawned loudly enough to wake my cat, Barley. He hissed at me and turned over, and I hissed back. I sighed, looking dejectedly around the shabby, underwhelming apartment I lived in. Usually, I didn’t let this upset me. But oh my gods, I was capable of so much more. Granted, I didn’t know how much more.

Getting out of bed, I walked all of three feet to the bathroom to get ready for today. I left the bathroom and went through the door that separated the bathroom from the rest of the house. There wasn’t really a wall between the kitchen and the living room, more of a banister. It reminded me of home. I had a two-seater couch, a couple more chairs, a full-sized mirror, and.. that’s about it. In the kitchen, I had the essentials, and a picture of me and my mom. A tall, somewhat scary woman with a sharp nose and narrow face. I glanced at the mirror, at my plain white tee, black jacket, and navy-blue ripped jeans. Close enough. I exited my apartment, hurrying down the stairs (I live on the fifth floor) and bumped into my neighbor, Mr... something.

“I’m sorry! Totally on me, I’m just hoping to get this job and- I’m sorry to bother you.”

He smiles at me, “Of course. Good luck, Zianna.”

“Thank you!” I smiled apologetically and walked down a couple more steps. Then, when the banister still hid my lower half from view, I bent over, snatched a five, and “picked up” the wallet, looking confused. “Mister-” I heard a door close. Oh well, I tried. I waltzed downstairs like I had all the time in the world. It was almost true, I have nowhere to be. Not really.

I walk into the city at around 8am. Kuville, one of the eight districts in the country of Shea Stria, is my home. I’ve “lived” here for years, since I graduated high school. I’ve settled into a nice routine:

7:30 - Get out of bed

8:00 - Head to Tartep Point, the heart of Kuville.

8:30 - Get some free breakfast (half eaten stuff left on outdoor tables, sometimes flirting with chefs)

8:50 - Decide whether to work alone or to find Axel (close friend for the past 3 years, homeless [and enjoys it]). It’d take at least half an hour to find him, and I like to be alone, so I usually decide against it.

8:55 - Choose a victim. I usually only go through 2 or 3 a day, and I follow them around until I can steal their wallet or watch or something.

By 8:40, and I had a croissant, orange juice, and grapes. Beautiful. I walked the streets and found a bench, and then I just sat, and people watched. There were only two people I decided to keep an eye on:

~A tall, scrawny guy with olive skin and hazel eyes. He had a brown raincoat (a heavy, thick brown one that didn’t look to be too expensive, is well-worn), boots (fancy. No doubt made in Nawant Acre, the capital of Shea Stria, could cost up to 5,000 Blele [1 Blele is roughly 3 USD]), a black fedora (looked like felt, couldn’t tell the brand), he walked a little slowly (his eyes wandered, seemingly taking in new sights), and constantly checked his watch and yawned. He had eagerness in his gait, wide eyes. Almost childish, easy target.

~A round, short black woman who walked with pep in her step, like she has places to be and doesn’t deal with foolishness. Black and gold sneakers (Nike- must’ve cost a fortune), two rings on her ring finger (a small, silver band, and a bigger, shinier one with a huge rock), a teal raincoat that’s slightly too small, a Radley London purse (the fancy, expensive, durable kind from hundreds of years ago- how did it survive this long?). She cared about her looks, carried herself with pride. Even though she had bags under her eyes, her hair is frizzy, and she limped ever so slightly. She must be important- self-important, maybe, but important. I made a mental note to proceed with caution.

I watched as each of them passed, considering their directions, how they’re dressed, and other small things (is their hair disheveled? How’s the woman’s makeup? Are they sweaty? Are their clothes wrinkled?). I decided the woman was probably going to Fort Wrik, where a lot of jobs were located. She was probably upper class, the best malls, homes, and restaurants were located there. The man was probably just sightseeing, I’ll just walk along some roofs until I find him.

I decided to follow the woman first, I stayed a few feet behind her on the crowded streets. It was kind of boring, but it was okay. Boring meant I wasn’t noticed, that I wasn’t about to be caught. The lady made a bunch of turns, and started towards the houses, and the sidewalks were considerably less populated. there were rows upon rows of penthouses and condos, though they have a rustic, yet modern look. The buildings looked like they were made mostly of wood, but it was too clean. Not enough knots in the oak, it’s synthetic. Other things like that, and the government does it on purpose. At first glance, everything’s good.

Gods forbid anyone takes a close look, notices that the world we live in is- and you’ll never believe this -imperfect! But anyway. I sighed; the mental rant I went on distracted me: I lost the woman. I turned to the nearest penthouse and walked around to the back, where the fire escapes are hidden. I climbed them noiselessly and crouched behind the gutters. I walked along the edge of the roof and didn’t see her. I was about to jump to the next roof, when I saw movement in the corner of my eye. I glanced across the street, and saw the lady enter her home. I grinned and looked at the building next to the one I stood on, the one on my right. There was only about 3 feet of wiggle room, luckily. I could jump it easily.

I pulled a small notebook out my back pocket and wrote the important stuff- the date, the woman’s address, description of her, guesses of what her job might be. Once done, I turned, ran, and jump from rooftop to rooftop, heading back to Tartep Point; where I thought my next target was. The three-inch gap turned to five inches, so on and so forth, until I had to climb down the fire escape. I thought the guy was a tourist because:

-He wore a raincoat, and it’s the middle of Reddening. The temperatures here range from 75-100 degrees, it doesn’t get very cold. He was walking west, probably coming from the train station; he must’ve traveled pretty far.

-He constantly rubbed his eyes and yawned, probably heading to a hotel, and the best ones are near the eye of Kuville.

-He was worth keeping an eye on because nothing really exists in Kuville. It’s a boring district; we manufacture a lot of household goods, but that’s about it. No tourist attractions like Waterside Rottib, nothing of much value, like South Worviam. Maybe he’s here for family...

There are only five hotels, and I went through two with no luck. By now, it was 11:00, and I decided to check one more hotel, Onyx Chasm Hotel, and break for lunch. I don’t need to find the man yet, just where he lives. I pushed open the door and walked across the large marble floor. The lobby was mostly empty, a couple chairs, a couple plants (3 fake ones, 5 real ones), the desk (more of a counter), and a wine bar. I made a mental note to come back and nab a couple bottles. I rang the bell on the desk, “Hello?”

“Just a minute,” A masculine voice said from beneath the counter.

While I waited, I looked around for anything valuable I could take to a pawn shop.

“Hey,” The dude popped up, and smiled when he saw me.

“Hey Axel.”

“What’s up Z?”

“Still don’t like it.”

He sighed and shook his head; he’s been trying to give me a nickname for years. I like all the ones he's offered, but I wanna know how many he can think of. Plus, the look on his face every time is wort. “Can I help you?”

“A dude came in here, a white man with blonde hair?”

“Yeah, his name is Leo. Why?” Leo. Almost sounds familiar.

“Where is he?”

“Don’t know, might still be in his room. Might’ve left for lunch.”

“Know which room he’s in?”

“Yep.”

“Wanna tell me?”

“You know I can’t.”

“Come on, please?” I ask, batting my eyelashes.

We both burst out laughing and Ax sighs again, “His room may or may not have an eight in it. Perhaps his room only has one digit.” I smiled and made my way to room 8, on the first floor.

“Don’t steal anything!” He cried from the receptionist desk.

I mumbled a response, and he gave an exaggerated groan. He had to pay for whatever got stolen on his watch, and I miiiight’ve cost him a couple Bleles. I pressed my ear to the door of room 8 and didn’t hear a thing. I opened the door a crack, looked around. Nothing. I pushed it open and scanned the room so I would know where to put everything when I finished. Once I had the room memorized, I walked over to the suitcases on the bed. I looked through both of them, and dude had tailor made suits, jewelry (was he seeing someone? Were they gifts? If so, to whom? Or did he receive them?)

I took out my notebook, and wrote what I saw, the date, the room number. I quickly put everything back just how I had found it (photographic memories are quite helpful) and left the hotel. I was busy scribbling in my notebook, not paying much attention to my surroundings. Of course, the one time I don’t is the time I nearly get kidnapped.