《Thieves Thrive From Failure》Chapter 4.1: Steal what Cannot be Stolen

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Griem was falling from sixty feet in the air and in a few seconds she would become the new red carpet for the entrance into the auction house for all to step on.

“Shit. Shit. Shit!” panicked Griem, reaching into the pouch on her back and pulling out the grapple hook.

With the few seconds she had, she scanned the contour of the auction house, looking for a concave window. A cracked window frame indented inwards, it caught her eye. She aimed the small device towards it. Pulling the trigger, it launched out a black rope going right for the window… or so she thought.

The recoil of the launcher shot up and instead wrapped itself around one of the bars that caged the bell. After a few seconds of free falling, she was now being propelled upwards back to the roof. She started to shut her eyes but instead, opened them wide and looked head on.

The grapple hook brought her to the jutted edges of the cage, just a little higher than the roof. She latched the hook onto her belt and stared down to the roof. The scarred man stood in the middle looking through the roof window once more, back turned towards her. She climbed down like a stray cat onto the roof and moved stealthily behind him.

Her fingers tingling, scanning the back of the figure way taller than her. Looking down the torso of the man, Griem formed her plan.

With swift movement she grabbed the golden hilted dagger from his scabbard and pierced into his lower back.

“You slippery bitch!” he yelled, throwing his elbow back, spinning around to grab her, and failing to catch a hint of her clothes.

Griem bent down and slashed into his abdomen, causing him to sprawl onto the ground screaming. Tears dripped over the large scar that stretched across his face, he stared at her with eyes filled with pure hatred.

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Taking a few steps backward, she squatted down. Twirling the dagger in her hands, her brows furrowed, she paused for a moment, staring at the ground. Taking off her cloak, She throws it at the fallen enemy.

She matched stares with the surprised eyes on the ground and brought her hands to her abdomen. A way to tell the idiot to stop the bleeding. Standing back up, she proceeded to walk back towards the ledge she fell over.

“You’re better off killing me! The guild won’t just let you walk free. You’re going to be hunted down by the guild and the crimson guards! ”

Griem paused in her steps, eyes widening to what she just heard.

“Yeah, that’s right. Short height, petite, deadly with a dagger but never goes for the kill. We know all about you, thief. So-”

A whizzing sound perked Griem’s ears, whistling through the wind behind her until it was completely silent except the occasional breeze. She slowly turned her body, seeing a sharp tiny silhouette lodged into the bald man’s head. A ninja star.

“He was right you know,” said a familiar female voice from the sound of someone landing on the roof, “Let him live and it might just be you bleeding on the ground, from someone not so kind as yourself.”

Aylie walked into the moonlight, revealing her white silk mask, and the matching black cloak like the one she gave Griem.

“You know I don’t kill,” said Griem, glancing down to the lifeless body.

“No, of course you don’t. You just torture them until they want to kill themselves. Very merciful milady.”

Aylie did a mocking curtsy before pulling the ninja star out of his head. She picked up the bloodied black cloak and tossed it, Griem catching it with both her hands. She could feel the fresh blood on the cloak and was about to puke. She really hated the thought of taking someone's life.

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It reminded her of how her father died. Laying in the street like a drop bag of rotten fruit nobody wanted. Like thrown out burnt bread nobody but the gutter rats wanted. How could she bear to leave someone like her father? Even if it was for survival.

Griem walked over and flipped the lifeless body over, kneeling down to cross his arms.

“Requiescat in pace.” whispered Griem.

Aylie stared at her for a second, shaking her head, and turning to walk towards the front of the roof. Griem followed after noticing her eyes looking down at the people. She wanted to ask Aylie about what the man said but didn’t know how. She lifted her hand to tap her shoulder, but put it back down, walking up beside her.

“Grapple hook,” ordered Aylie, sticking her palm out.

Griem unhooked the gadget from her belt and placed it into Aylie’s hand. Aylie shot the rope into the sky front of her, letting it dangle down the side of the building. She placed the object into Griem’s hand and motioned for her to grip it tightly. She gripped the rope and proceeded to go over the ledge to scale down.

Griem held the gadget in her hand. She had a moment of thought of letting go. She looked long at the thing in hand, contemplating what the best course of action would be. If Aylie died, she would no longer have to endure the vicious training and these types of suicidal missions.

She shut her eyes, ready to let go.

“You daydreaming?”

Griem fluttered her eyes open, seeing Aylie back on the roof with a maroon sack over her shoulders. She was quick...and Griem didn’t even notice her presence or hear a single sound. She snapped out of it, handing the gadget back to Aylie who retracted the hook back and placed it into Griem’s back pouch.

She pulled down her silk mask and smiled at Griem, for what reason? Griem did not have a single clue.

Aylie ripped into the sack with one of her twin knives and out flowed a bunch of clothing. Not commoner clothing but the patterns and styles that aristocrats wear. Aylie picked out a white dress and held it up to her body. It was too short and reached just to the base of her torso. Griem then saw the grin on Aylie’s face. She hopped over to Griem and lifted her arms, pressing it against her body.

“It’s perfect for you!”

“You expect me to wear...this? I’d rather go back to falling off the building,” said Griem, pinching the dress by the corners. “Besides, what’ll you wear?”

“How about...this!” said Aylie cheerfully.

She picked out a brown fabric from the pile and pressed it against her body, smiling from ear to ear.

“Let’s play a game shall we? Miss Clark.”

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