Tyson crept out of the cardboard box he had made for himself, lazy eyes looking towards the sky. There was the same sun again, the same people crossing the streets, the same piercing noises of the cars on the road. Maybe one of these days Tyson would stop hoping to waking up in a soft bed, not worrying for every next second, with clean clothes and people who appreciate him.

That day was clearly not today. A small feline jumped out of the nearby dumpster, dragging what could barely be considered a meal in its mouth. Tyson sighed and stood up, dusting off whatever debris had accumulated on him in the past day.

He didn’t own much, but what he did he usually kept on himself. He looked at himself in some broken glass, noting how unclean he looked. Sooner or later, he would have to find himself a place to shower, for at least a little while. He gathered his belongings and walked out of the alley, the people giving him a wide berth as he passed.

They might have thought he didn’t notice, but he did. It would have been nicer to just acknowledge him and his filth instead, at least then they wouldn’t be pretending he doesn’t exist at all. People like him got no respect at all; they were ghosts in a world that had forgotten them. Tyson didn’t like to think about that fact too much, as it angered him if he kept on it for too long.

While walking down the street, trying to decide if and where he would get his breakfast, he noticed a figure flying overhead. Tyson followed the direction of the crowd and found himself staring at a masked man in the sky flying through the streets, inspiring awe in them all. Those catching colours of his getup did well to highlight his superhuman qualities. Soon enough, he disappeared around another corner and the crowd returned to normal, probably realizing they couldn’t spend the entire day chasing after him. Tyson just grunted and kept walking, once more ignoring the people around him.

Maybe if he dressed up like an idiotic clown for a day, they’d finally look at him for once. The flying man was the city’s hero, a man who just popped up one day and started fighting crime. Tyson couldn’t care less for folk like that. He could scarcely defend himself, so wasting time on someone else would be suicide. If they blamed him for it, so be it. Not like he cared for the lot of them.

He wandered upon one of those same kitchens serving food. Waited in line and got his food before leaving. That was that for the day. The meal wasn’t the greatest, but asking for anything better while in his situation was stupid.

Tyson wandered those same chilly streets, searching for something to do. He happened upon others begging on the streets, something that he himself had done a fair share of in his time. Sometimes when he would get a job, he’d find himself earning a small amount, which would help him stay off those same streets for a bit.

He remembered he’d applied for a job in one of the convenience stores. He read the signs and walked across towards it, hoping this place would look past what he had done and give him something. Anything would be appreciable to the state he had found himself in after leaving prison. At least some people had family to rely on. When he had left, he was devastated to realize he didn’t even have that.

No one to associate with, no one willing to associate with him. He considered it almost an inhuman existence, the life he was living. The doors to the store slid open and Tyson scurried up to the counter. Damn, he should have showered first. Not the best first impression on the staff, he was sure. He picked this spot specifically because he knew they were in dire need of another worker, but no one had popped up to accept the job.

Tyson cleared his throat to talk, but the man working there stopped him. “Boss is already inside. He’s calling you in, so just hurry up instead.”

Quite rude of him, Tyson remarked. But he listened anyway, led by the counter worker, he walked through the door into the manager’s office. The sight that greeted him already tempered his expectations. The manager didn’t look angry, stern or anything.

Instead, he looked supremely sad. Almost disappointed in the knowledge that he had. Tyson sat down in front of the man as the counter worker left to go back to his station.

“Tyson, I don’t want to get your hopes up. So I will start by saying you didn’t get the position. I’m sorry.”

Tyson balled his fists up and twisted his eyebrows in an expression of anger. “Your eager for this, I know. But I just can not in good conscience let someone like you work here. I’m sure you can understand that?”

Of course, he couldn’t! Everywhere he went, opportunities died! Good conscience this, good conscience that! Maybe if they finally let him work somewhere they’d see he wasn’t the sniveling criminal he used to be, just a man trying to earn a living! But that wasn’t possible today. Tyson was malnourished, dirty, and wearing old rags. He didn’t have the capability to argue his point any further, so he just wordlessly left.

He had one task left for today, and just enough change in his pocket to achieve it. He headed over to the laundry with his clothes and put them in, washing them of the grime that had accumulated on them. He put the coins in the washer to realize that he was short some. A man nearby noticed this, and came over to put some coins in the slot instead.

He flashed a smile at the man, to which Tyson wordlessly nodded and sat down on the bench. He waited and watched as the clothes swirled around in the machine. What was he going to do now? He had nothing to his name and no way to earn, so the next best choice was clearly obvious.

He looked down at his hands. So dexterous even now, so… useful for sneaking into the right places. Though he did not have the same build as the man of his youth, he still had the skills and knowledge that came with his career. He could do it again, just one more time, and then he’d finally be able to leave the life for good.

They say there’s no way to go up when you’ve reached the bottom, but that was blatantly untrue. Tyson could always go deeper, back into that abyss that had led him here in the first place. He pondered this until he realized he had been staring for too long, and that his clothes were already done washing.

Tyson dried them up as best as he could and changed into them somewhere no one could see. He then wandered around town until finding a nice damp alley. Really, it was basically luxury compared to what he had slept in the night before. He made himself comfortable and dozed off as best as he could, even if the sound of the rats hampered that.

****

The cycle began again the next day, with Tyson waking up from his slumber and lifting himself up from his makeshift bed. He spent the entire day searching around for any open job opportunities, now that he had been rejected. Along the way, he picked up several bits and bobs, pieces of things here and there that he could sell for meager change.

When he couldn’t bare doing that anymore, he looked around the city for jobs. Surprisingly, he found one. Albeit temporary, he was tasked with taking apart some machines in a local junkyard. So, he did that, and he did it damn well. Those machines were salvaged of any important pieces, then tossed aside.

It was somewhat ironic now that Tyson compared it to his own situation, but he had no time to ponder that. By the end of the day, he was a few dims richer than before. Though he had gotten paid, he didn’t think he would be offered this job again. No matter what, people tended to look at him weirdly. Perhaps he should be more talkative instead?

Whatever, that wasn’t important now. Tyson walked out of the junkyard and thought to himself of how to spend the money that he had gotten. He’d have to avoid the other drifters in the city. Admittedly, he wasn’t very close to them, so he couldn’t trust them not to take a cut from his earnings.

He immediately set about buying something half decent to eat from the super market. It tasted… good. A small smile even crept up onto his face while he was squatting near the store itself. When he was finished, he didn’t expect to see a little boy walk up to him and hand him a few coins. Tyson accepted those coins graciously, nodding towards the boy but failing to get out a single word before he ran back to his mother.

She ruffled his hair for a bit, said some words of encouragement to her son and went on her way. Though having more money should have made him happier, Tyson couldn’t help but focus on the mother and her child. That was a good kid right there, indeed he was. Tyson stood up from the sidewalk, then walked away with a somewhat unsatisfied grin on his face. Not long ago, he wondered himself if he would ever have children. The time for that had passed long ago, however. Another opportunity lost.

Tyson instead walked again to find a location to rest, and laid down for the night, careful not to leave his earnings unprotected.

****

Tyson was awoken in the middle of the night to the sight of a few aggressive men poking and prodding at him. Before he could react, he was hoisted up on his shoulders and pinned against the wall.

They looked to be in as bad of a condition as he was, all things considered. Those dirtied jackets, yellowed teeth and bad complexions told him much about the way these people had been living their lives. Tyson hadn’t been targeted by his former mates, instead he had stirred up a bit too much attention yesterday and ended up face to face with a bunch of desperate fools who wanted his cash.

Before he could mutter out a response, the man holding him up tightened his grip around him, causing Tyson to wince. “Give it to us. We’ll leave and we won’t even hurt you if you just give us the money here and now.”

Tyson recognized that voice. He’d had some nice interactions with the man in the past and considered him nothing more than a fellow man down on his luck. To see Larin resort to this, it twisted Tyson’s insides into knots. Anger began to redden his face, but quickly receded once the large man holding him slammed him against the wall again.

“Tyson, just give up already! I don’t want to do this, and neither do you,” Larin said once more. Tyson felt the bills in his pocket and thought about handing them over. He considered his options and decided to just spit in Larin’s face instead. The other man could scarcely be seen in the dead of night, but Tyson could tell he was grimacing. Larin ordered the large man to ‘hurt him good’, which led to a beating that left Tyson in horrible condition.

Larin would never get the money unless he stole all of Tyson’s clothes. So, aided by the pain and desperation he felt, he smuggled his hands into his hidden pockets and pulled out the rolled bills. Tyson weakly handed those bills to the men and watched them shuffle out of the alley. The blood that flowed onto the ground, and the nightly sounds of the city, they both did well to hide Tyson’s cries of pain.

He'd had enough and he wouldn’t have it any longer. Consequences be damned, if the world was to treat him like this, then should he not reply in kind? Those thoughts festered, until Tyson reluctantly fell asleep.

****

In the morning, Tyson didn’t bother going to the kitchen. He cleaned himself up as best as he could in the public fountains, then headed to the nearest market. First item on the menu? Breakfast. He snatched some bread and a drink from the corner store, making sure to take it exactly at the moment the cashier was busy.

He considered his options while eating his fill. If he was to begin again, he would not do it in this condition. So, Tyson decided to steal some hygiene products. It had been a while since he had seen them, but not long enough for him not to know how to shave himself.

He took it all off, getting a clean shave. Afterwards, he cut his hair and washed it, cleaning it of the various small bits that had gotten caught. Tyson then proceeded to clean his teeth, though he knew it would never be the same. Finally, he changed out of those horrible clothes he was forced in, instead snatching some new ones from a shop with an inattentive teenage employee.

He looked at himself and saw resemblance to the man he had once been. A professional, someone who was above the petty games of the lowest of the low. He decided to make his first job an easy one, just to get him back into the thick of things. He spotted his first mark, an old woman who was relaxing in the park with her purse a fair distance from her. Tyson waited for her to walk over to her grandchildren, then rummaged through the purse for keys. He found two, an original and a spare, and decided to take only one.

Too easy. He waited for the old woman to return with her children back to her own house, tailing behind them just far enough so that they wouldn’t notice. The woman dropped the children off with their parents, then returned to a cozy apartment in some well-off looking street filled with tidy roads and clean buildings. He ended up in the fire escape, watching her from outside as she picked out her house keys and slotted them into the lock.

Then, he waited. He didn’t want to risk getting caught, so he stayed away, only periodically checking up on the building in order to see if the woman was still awake. Some time at the dead of night, he felt confident enough to just walk up to her door and use his own key to enter.

She was unawake, thankfully. Didn’t even notice when Tyson rummaged through her belongings, taking those precious pieces of jewelry that she kept. He pocketed them and continued onward to see if anything else valuable was there. He saw several framed photos of her as a young woman, with her children and her grandchildren.

At least this wouldn’t cripple her. At least she had someone to rely on for her troubles. Tyson didn’t feel as bad as he thought he should have. Maybe he was just born for this kind of business instead. He finished his thoughts and his search and then left the house as spotless as it could be. They wouldn’t be able to track down any prints, considering Tyson had worn gloves for the occasion. He did take care to leave his spare key in the house as it was no longer of any use to him.

He graced the streets with pockets full of expensive goods, then took them to the nearest jeweler to pawn them off. Tyson knew of how to find unscrupulous businesses, the kinds that wouldn’t bat an eye at some ill-gotten goods. There was an implicit agreement between the buyer and the seller as to the origin of the items, though none would admit it in any official form.

Tyson went to one of these shops, a seedy looking place that gave him his money and let him go as fast as he could. With the funds he had now secured, it was time to set up a base of operations.

****

Tyson awoke from a comfortable slumber, feeling around his bed to make sure that it was real. Although cheap, it was leagues ahead of anything he had slept in the past few… too long. He hadn’t slept in something this comfortable for too long. He readied his breakfast, being finally able to eat something that he liked and knew how to make himself.

He picked an old dish, one that he’d beg his mother for often. It consisted of meat braised in a spiced tomato sauce and served straight from the pan. His mouth salivated at the sight of the boiling sauce and the crackling flames. Afterwards, he set down the pan on his newly bought table and began to eat. Ingredients notwithstanding, it was just as he remembered it. His cries of joy filled his new house and he savoured every bite.

With that done, he began his day of thievery once more. No one would take him in because of his record, so it was only fair Tyson make ends meet somehow. He stalked around for wealthy looking and insecure individuals, trying to find the easiest target. Then he’d strike, using tools to sneak into their houses and taking anything of value from them.

This continued on for some time, although Tyson knew sooner or later someone would catch onto his trail. He almost got caught once while searching a house as he thought the owner was out at the moment. He cursed himself for that mistake as he hid in the closet, waiting for the main to leave. Little by little, his new housing filled out and Tyson began to move onto bigger and bigger targets.

He staked out riskier marks, tried to loot more and even had a bit of a theatrical flair as he left some marks behind. He’d have to remind himself not to do that often as that sort of business could just as easily lead back to him.

One day, he was sitting in his house, now looking like a properly lived in place. Tyson had bought some interesting decorations for the place, wanting to make it look less barren than it was. Curtains covered the windows and a cool breeze came in from his air conditioner as he sipped on his drink.

Tyson kicked his feet up on the table and watched the news. He was paying extreme attention as the topic of conversation was himself.

“Indeed, this string of robberies has left the victims struggling to find a way to pay their bills. “What a lie. Tyson knew the types of people he robbed and they weren’t the sort to struggle after losing a few pieces of jewelry. He scoffed at the anchor and continued listening.

After a few minutes, he was interrupted by the sound of someone at his front door. Making sure to be careful, he looked out the peephole to find someone he’d never have expected. Tyson almost ripped the door off of its hinges considering how fast he opened it.

“Evening, Tyson. Fine place you’ve got here!” the man said. He was dressed in a clean business suit and rocking a knowing look on his face. Leonne was the type of man to leave a shiv in your kidneys one day and welcome you back to the office the next.

“Are you going to keep me waiting outside or are you going to let me in,” Leonne asked with that same pretentious tone. Tyson knew the man would pull something if he didn’t listen, so he silently gestured for the man to get in and closed the door behind him.

Leonne instantly made himself at home in the place, walking over to the kitchen and making himself a drink as if he knew the place inside and out. He probably did and was trying to intimidate Tyson in some fashion.

“You know, that news sure did surprise me when I first heard it. Some thief going around and robbing the rich for their petty change? At first, I thought,” He said as he poured some fruit juice into the mixture, “Well, I thought there was no way that someone as talented as you would waste your time on such simple work. But then I remembered,” he continued over the sounds of the shaker, “We did kind of leave you to take the blame, didn’t we? Well, my apologies for that, Tyson.”

Tyson rolled his eyes as Leonne poured two glasses of the mixture onto the counter. “Let’s forgive and forget, shall we?” he asked as he raised the glass. Tyson wasn’t in the mood for his games, so he refused to do the same. “Oh, come on. I’ve got a new job for us both. What’s done is done. I can promise you, if you can do this, you won’t ever have to worry about another coin in your life.”

Tyson considered his offer for a moment. When he looked back up, Leonne was holding his glass up in anticipation. Tyson picked his own glass up and clinked it with Leonne’s, before they both downed the contents. “Excellent! I’ll give you details later, but note down this address for now…”

And then Leonne left as fast as he arrived. Tyson was left with only a piece of paper with an address, and mixed feelings in his heart.

****

There were a few days left before the preparation of the job. Tyson had the unenviable task of sneaking into a building while the others caused a distraction. On the 7th Floor of the company headquarters of Snickett Inc., in the office of the CEO was where Tyson would find what he was looking for. He had to admit that the job sounded kind of dangerous, but Leonne assured him that there was no need to worry.

He had gathered up a team that Tyson barely bothered to remember. Perhaps he should have, considering Leonne might have tried to pull something again, but he didn’t. He wanted this done as fast and cleanly as possible, despite all the warnings his brain gave him.

Right now, however, he was doing something rather mundane. He was back in the same laundry shop that he used to visit when he was living out in the streets. Perhaps he should have gotten his own, but funds were running low. He packed his clothes into the machine and put the money in it, then sat back on the bench and waited. He looked out of the corner of his eye and spotted a familiar man struggling with change.

Seems he didn’t have enough. Tyson would have ignored the man at that point but then he finally remembered whose face that was. He then decided to walk over and put a few coins into the machine for him instead.

The man looked up at him and said, “Thanks. Sorry, guess I didn’t have as much change as I thought.” He patted his pockets to emphasize that. “Hey, you look familiar? Wait a minute! You’re that guy I gave a few coins to a while back,” he said as he smiled.

“Wow, I didn’t think that would come back like this haha,” he chuckled. Tyson joined him for a second.

“Well, that was kind of you. I’m glad you’re looking better. Life in the streets is pretty harsh,” he said as he watched the clothes spin in the machine.

Indeed it was. Instead of continuing talks with the man, Tyson instead walked over to his own washer and waited for the clothes to get cleaned. He took those clothes home and readied himself for the night that was about to come. He had to be prepared perfectly for anything.

****

A giant tower loomed over Tyson. Leonne put an arm around him and directed his attention away from the magnificence of the building and instead directed him towards the entrance. He put some papers in Tyson’s hand and urged him forward.

“At 7:30 exactly, we’ll cut the power to the building. That should disable the defenses too. These documents are for an appointment with a manager who won’t make it tonight. As soon as the power cuts out, leave the room, head to the 7th floor, find the safe and the documents, slip the papers out, get back to the appointment and your part will be done. Understood?” Leonne asked.

Tyson nodded his head in response and waited as Leonne went back to the car. He waited for the signal before heading inside. The woman at the counter looked bored and barely looked at Tyson before grabbing his papers and getting someone to escort him to the room.

His escort looked too strong for Tyson to take out. Tyson mentally noted down his name and would avoid him in the future. He gave off the air of someone supernatural, though Tyson would never say his sense of that was very well defined.

He entered into the waiting area, taking a seat while his escort went back from whence he came. Tyson gave no sign of his internal thoughts to the cameras, appearing bored in their view while he waited for the electricity to go out. Despite having magical crystals sprouting out of every corner of the world, the only use they had was for those with powers. Tyson wasn’t one of those people, though he knew quite a fair amount of them. It was almost unfair how useful their powers were, but what can you do?

He relaxed as soon as the lights went out and he was submerged into darkness. Tyson had memorized the layout of the building so navigating wasn’t much of an issue for him. He quietly made his way to the stairs, careful to stay out of the sight of anyone walking around with a light.

Several times he came to encounter guards, but he slipped past them all the same until he finally reached the 7th floor. There, he quietly made his way to the back of the hallway, cursing under his breath as someone was walking towards him. Tyson hid behind a wall and thought about the options that he had. Knocking him out would be a problem, lest he cause noise for everyone around himself. That light of his was troublesome considering that if Tyson got caught by it, the entire operation would be rendered a failure. His worries were taken care of when the man in front of him got a call on his radio.

Apparently, there was some big commotion happening that they needed every active security guard for. Tyson thanked Leonne for the distraction as the guard slipped by, barely giving Tyson a notice before jumping down the stairs. Tyson made his way over to the door and gave it a nudge, just to see if it was open or not.

Obviously, it wasn’t but sometimes life could surprise you. Tyson knelt down in front of the door, making sure no one was around to see as he pulled out a small flashlight and put the pick and torque wrench into the keyhole. He worked methodically, making sure to apply the lightest pressure only as he knocked the pins into position and finally unlocked the door.

He then threw away the tools so that they couldn’t be found on his person. He walked into the room, finding a lavish office that showed exactly how gauche the man he was robbing was.

It took no time for him to find the safe and crack that open as well. His fingers were lithe and precise, allowing him to bypass the lock and find the documents that had been hidden away. Tyson pocketed these documents and made his way to the rendezvous spot in the building so that he could drop off the papers.

He walked across the hallway, only his shadow visible from the large windows that occupied it. Then, a giant shape crashed into those same windows and knocked over several pieces of furniture before crashing on the walls . The papers he was carrying flew everywhere and Tyson himself was knocked to the ground with a thud.

His head throbbed painfully and his eyes gave him a grim sight. It was that damn hero again. He should have figured his luck was bad enough to get his attention. The wind outside blew in, threatening to scatter the papers further as the hero laid down on the floor, gasping for breath and bloody and beaten. A few crystals had fallen out of his suit and were lying about on the ground away from his entombed body.

Those crystals illuminated his eyes, showcasing his desperation to Tyson. He ignored it and tried his best to gather the papers up and walk out before the man got a good look at him. While he was gathering those papers up, Tyson thought he heard the distinct sound of gunfire from below. Leonne had said this would be a simple job, but clearly details were being left behind.

As he picked up the last paper, Tyson heard a cough behind him. The hero spoke up, “P-please,” he coughed out, “move one of those to me. I-I need to go out and help them,” he said before continuing to cough. His hand was outstretched, trying to reach for any one of the bewllan crystals, but with no success.

Tyson walked over to one of those same crystals and placed his foot on top of them. “Where were you?” he asked the hero.

“W-what?” he stammered out.

“Where were you when I needed help. When I needed saving, hero?” Tyson asked as he fixated his eyes on the man before him.

“I-I don’t know who you are? I’m sorry…” the hero answered.

“Where were you when I was starving for my next meal? Where were you when I was shivering cold and alone on these streets? Where were you then?” Tyson asked, his expression growing angrier.

“I-I wasn’t enough. I admit it,” the hero finally said.

“I couldn’t save you for the same reason I can’t save everyone. I’m just one man, damn it. So please, just help me, so I can save someone tonight!” he pleaded with Tyson.

“What do you mean? This was supposed to be a clean job. No one’s in danger,” Tyson said. The explosions near the base of the building did well to disprove that.

“There’s no time to explain! Just help me and I promise I’ll tell you everything!” the hero replied. Tyson thought about his options for a moment. Thought about the fate he had been dealt and the things he’d had to do. Would he give up his life of crime for the right thing when the right thing had proven to give him nothing except pain?

He guessed that that kind of choice is something the hero dealt with every day. He rolled the crystal to him, watching as it dimmed and the man began to glow red. A surge of strength took him from his prison and let him stand up straight. Tyson felt like he was just showing off, but didn’t bother to tell the man.

He took the remaining bewl in the rest of the crystals and dimmed them as well. He did a weird gesture of touching his hands together and took off into the sky, thrust coming out between his palms.

Tyson ran to the edge of the window and watched as the hero took care of the situation, fighting off the other hallowmancers and tying them up in the end. After the situation was well and truly taken care of, he came back up to the 7th floor, where Tyson was sitting on a knocked over couch.

Tyson wordlessly stood up and held the papers out to the man, who pocketed them. He then held out his hands, ready for the hero to take him to the police. The hero looked at him with a stare, then took him by his hands and flew out of the window.

While flying through the air, Tyson saw a sight he’d never believe in all his days. The bright city lights looked like a patch of stars below his feet, illuminating everything in its vicinity with colour and glamour. It looked beautiful the way everything connected together, how vibrant and alive it all looked. If this was to be his last sight as a free man, Tyson thought that it wasn’t so bad.

What he didn’t expect then, was that the hero would instead put him on top of another building and take off his mask. Through the dirt and blood, Tyson saw a young man who exuded righteousness. He had brown hair and a strong chin, with plain eyes and a determined face.

“Why show me that?” Tyson asked, looking over the city once more from his vantage point.

“You helped me; despite what I think I know about you. It was worth giving something in return,” the hero answered.

“I should ask your name. Who are you?” the hero asked.

“Tyson. Just Tyson, no last name.”

“I’m Rayart Lefman,” the hero said as he stood up and offered Tyson a hand. Tyson shook it and stared at him. When Tyson was his age, he was probably robbing bank stores with his buddies. Perhaps if he had powers, he would have been able to lead a more righteous path like the young man in front of him.

“I, uh, I don’t think I would have been able to save those people tonight had it not been for you, Tyson. Thank you for that.”

“Hmmm. Well, are you not going to take me to prison now?” Tyson asked.

“I don’t think I will. I think… I could use your help,” Rayart said.

“In what ways?” Tyson replied.

“You’re very skilled with lockpicking. You seem to have some knowledge of Leonne and what he’s planning and you seem to be honourable enough to help me. I need your help in taking him down, Tyson. Leonne is a dangerous man.”

“That’s something I can’t deny. What was he really planning?” Tyson asked.

“These documents,” he said as he pulled them out. “He’s gathering enough munitions to supply a large army,” he said as he flipped through the papers. “These were meant for shipping to the army, but Leonne wanted to take them for himself.”

Tyson was dumbfounded at the revelation. Leonne, an army? He had thought it was just some joke they made when they were young. Not that the man was actually planning a coup.

“So, will you help me? Please?” Rayart said, hoping for him to accept. Tyson nodded his head, accepting the responsibility that came from him associating with someone like Leonne. His debt to Rayart was fulfilled, so he didn’t need to help, but finally he had something just to strive towards. He would take Leonne down once and for all, despite his past failings.