Chester placed his hands together, trying to light his cigarette but to no avail. He dropped the lighter in his hands and placed the cancer stick in his mouth back in the box. Dropping the lighter to the wayside, he exited the alleyway and blended in with the bustling crowds of downtown Toronto.

'...I should kick this habit anyway. It's eating into my wallet.'

He passed by the diverse and frequent restaurants of the city, getting a whiff of food wherever he went. The man wore a navy blue bomber jacket and black cargo pants, simple yet stylish. His curly hair was tied into a bun, and he was in sore need of some shaving supplies. The man figured having some hair to keep himself warm during the fall months wasn't so bad. Chester was beginning to regret the trip to Canada without securing himself additional funds beforehand.

"Speaking of eating, I should grab some food."

The life of an undocumented criminal wasn't as bad as people made it seem. But it became inconvenient at the worst possible times. There was an additional hassle when crossing borders, and finding a stable job without proper identification was like finding a needle in a haystack. But Chester was nothing if not resourceful.

A forged ID, a timely bribe here, some good old social engineering there, and before the man knew it he was enjoying himself at a basketball game almost a thousand kilometers away from his hometown of Florida. Looking at his depleted pockets, however, he walked forward and eyed his target for the day.

With two cups in his hands, Chester subtly kept a close eye on the bespectacled man wearing an oversized dress shirt with a tie. The man's pants were on the bigger side, but the main focus of the thief was the heft in the man's pockets. A juicy target, but one that had some extra challenge.

The first thing Chester noticed was the man's eyes. They were alert, mindful of any cracks or bumps along the uneven pavement. Beyond that, his body was fit but disguised by his attire. He had dark brown hair; clean, trimmed, and well-groomed. The thickness of his neck and the muscle lines along his forearm gave away the fact that his target was likely a bodybuilder or worked in some sort of blue-collar job. Normally this would've deterred an observant thief, knowing there was too much risk involved with targeting someone like that regardless of the valuables they have in their pockets.

But Chester was feeling a bit lucky today.

Two and a half meters away from the target, he didn't slow down his pace and pretended to look interested at the stores right beside him. Opening up his phone, the item slipped from his fingers and he frantically tried to catch the mobile device and nearly bumped into his target.

"Whoa, excuse me, sir."

His target didn't flinch away from the contact but opened his stance to try and catch the stumbling thief. Chester rested his hands lightly on the man's chest and felt nothing but firmly muscled torso. Trying to play it off, the curly-haired thief gave the man a small smile and thanked him politely.

"You're hiding some serious muscle there. Might I suggest you get some more well-fitting clothes?"

The target relaxed immediately and laughed lightly at the small joke he cracked. Chester gave him a few small pats to emphasize his point, but quickly withdrew and scratched the back of his head.

"Ha, no need for that. Have a good day, eh?" His voice was lighthearted and kind, but boisterous at the same time.

They exchanged simple farewells and returned to their respective lives without much thought, but Chester's face went back to neutral as he opened up the wallet in his hands.

He always had a strategy for different types of targets. For those who were more vigilant than the average passerby, he initiated an event to establish physical contact with the target. After showing he is not a threat and trying to pull away, Chester used that window of opportunity to take whatever he needed. For him, his success always relied on correctly identifying what type of target he was dealing with. He had a slight problem due to how deep the man's pockets were, but it wasn't enough to compromise his goal.

The wallet had a few twenty-dollar bills, identification, credit cards, and a peculiar badge within. Out of habit, he pocketed the cash and stared at the gleaming, silver brooch for a few moments to read out the letters imprinted.

'Fire department captain...?'

He looked at the face on the identification and debated whether to return the stolen wallet or not. Chester had little qualms about theft or how it impacted his victims, but there were times when he couldn't bear using someone's money. He vividly remembered stealing a social worker's purse which contained photos of her three children. The guilt was too much to bear and he returned it with the promise of never stealing from those who were less fortunate. Unless they got on his nerves, of course.

That was the problem with himself, he realized. The moment Chester stopped looking at them as targets and as real, living breathing humans with their struggles, he felt an inordinate amount of guilt for his actions.

'This guy saves people and animals from burning buildings for a living...' The man continued to walk forward, but after several moments he turned on his heel and looked for the firefighter. 'Goddamnit. This damned bleeding heart of mine.'

Searching through the crowds, he finally saw the fireman on the other side of the street handing off the cup to a woman and her child. Seeing the toddler, he realized that it was likely the man's family. A dog with pointed ears and black fur sat obediently behind them, twitching slightly at any noises occurring closeby. It had a vest with 'SERVICE DOG' emblazoned on the sides.

Taking his time, he finally reached the man and got his attention by waving the wallet in the air. Recognition appeared in the firefighter's eyes and Chester handed the item without much of a fuss. Giving it a cursory check, the clean-shaven man breathed a sigh of relief and thanked him profusely.

"It's nothing, just doing my duty I guess." The man tried to move on the thanks and politely refused the twenty-dollar bill. He didn't enjoy taking credit for the act of kindness when he was the one who stole it in the first place. "Mind if I pet the dog? What breed is he?"

"Ah, he's a Belgian Shepherd! Five years old. Same as this little kid over here."

Seeing the family, Chester couldn't help but give a soft smile. There was an undercurrent of envy, deep in his heart. A life he never got the chance to live. Parents, family outings, and a proper childhood. He thought himself weak for desiring such a thing at his age, but he didn't let it sour his interactions with the three. He gave the canine a friendly pat, but the animal seemed to be cautious of his touch.

"Do you by chance live in the area?" The woman asked. Her hair was down, and she dressed nicely. Chester assumed she was older than him by a bit, but shook his head to answer her question.

"No, no. I'm from down south, decided to visit our international neighbors."

The conversation continued, polite and non-intrusive. Chester deflected any personal questions as best as he could and claimed he was on a gap year after recently graduating college. He figured it was better to be safe than sorry. The fireman revealed that his name was Paul, and his wife's name was Rosa. He was a local firefighter, and she was an elementary school teacher. They had taken time off to visit the aquarium. Due to the canine's status as a service dog, he was also allowed to join in the family outing. It seemed to take its duty very seriously but preened whenever the child gave it soft pats and scratches under the chin.

"How about you, buddy? You want to be a firefighter like your pops?" The thief kneeled to meet the child's eyes. Dark-brown eyes like his father, but his hair was a few shades lighter and matched his mother's. He was adorable, and Chester couldn't help but ruffle the boy's hair.

"Wrong!" The toddler beside the man opened his mouth, waving the cup in his tiny little hand. His voice was squeaky, and the way he enunciated his words was clumsy. "My daddy's a hero! I'm gonna be like him too!"

Chester giggled slightly, and Paul smiled brightly upon hearing his son's words.

"Like Captain America? Or Superman?" The boy nodded vigorously. "I'll take your word for it. But I should get going now."

The curly-haired man got up, looking at his watch and getting ready to depart. His heart felt a bit lighter conversing with such a happy family. "It was nice meeting you, Paul, Rosa," His eyes turned to the toddler and canine. "And you as well...?"

"Cedric!" The boy was a bit loud, seemingly hyper at all times. He clung to the dog but made sure to avoid putting his entire weight on the canine out of consideration.

"Cedric." Chester nodded sagely. "Don't trouble your parents too much, okay?"

Paul offered his hand for a handshake, and the man obliged. It was firm and full of life. "Come to think of it, I never got your name."

That posed a slight dilemma for the thief. He had a distaste for using his real name, but in his line of work using aliases and fake ones was ideal. It was almost custom for him to blurt out any name besides his own. But for some reason, he didn't feel like lying this time around.

"...Chester. Chester Everheart."

"Well, I hope you have a good day then, Chester. Take care!" The firefighter inclined his head and they began moving the opposite way of where Chester was headed. "Come, Maxwell."

The service animal got up and began following along from behind, taking care to keep the toddler close by and prevent him from wandering off. Its intelligence was uncanny, and Chester wondered if a companion like that would suit him well during his travels. Turning around, he bumped shoulders with another person and muttered out a small apology before moving on.

'Eh, too much responsibility. I'd have to give the dog away with how much I move around.'

Taking the pilfered wallet in his hands, Chester made his next goal to find a nice restaurant to treat himself with the money he had.

Chester was smiling despite being handled roughly by two physically imposing bouncers and pushed out of the doors leading to the casino. The smell of alcohol and cigarettes was emanating from his clothes. His hands were cuffed, but he seemed to feel no fear as the guards glared at him with no small amount of annoyance. A third one was walking slightly ahead, older and with more heft along his waistline. His hair was thin and greying, and Chester found it oddly fitting how the man was running the security for a dingy casino like this one.

"Think you're so funny? Won't be so fun when we're bashing your teeth in." One of them said, muttering quietly to one of the bouncers as they walked past the entrance. Their grip on his arms was tight, preventing him from escaping.

The thief only raised his brow. "They must pay you well to risk lawsuits like these. Assaulting a lawyer's son?" Chester laughed, throwing his head back upon seeing the hesitation in their movements.

"You're bluffing. We know you were doing something on those blackjack tables. You're just trying to get out of this." One of the guards said, but the toughness in his voice had mellowed out and that presented the curly-haired man with more openings to attack.

"Am I? Take the risk, but don't come crying to me when this place goes under. I'd like to see how 'three men assault a customer under the suspicions of cheating' goes for you in court. I hope whatever they're giving you is worth the litigations."

The hands on his arms loosened significantly, and they all looked at each other with apprehension in their eyes. Knowing they lost, the old man leading the guards told them to let him go.

"Get the hell out of here."

Chester flipped them off, daring the guards to retaliate as he slowly walked away. The man sighed, guessing that he had pushed his luck too much this time around. He didn't even get to collect his winnings. The thief supposed it didn't matter, counting up all the cash he got from the three wallets in the security's pockets.

"Oh, a gift card!" The curly-haired man took it and recognized the brand immediately. "I should grab some lunch and coffee."

Niagara Falls was a nice area buzzing with tourists and locals. Even in the fall, there were still enough events going around to keep the man busy. The weather was thankfully mild, and he went out with a baggy sweater and jeans. He headed to a local coffee shop, getting himself cozy as he ordered two wraps, a hashbrown, and an iced coffee. Despite his lanky build, he had a voracious appetite.

He kept his ear out passively, listening in on the conversations and the news on the television. It wasn't until he was halfway through his third wrap that his ears picked up something on the news.

"Paul Anderson, a local Toronto firefighter was killed off-duty in a collision..." That made Chester freeze mid-chew, and he turned his head to see a news clipping about a family being killed in a fatal car crash. He could only hope for the best before the pictures of the deceased faded into view, showing the entire household in a family picture. The thief's heart sank upon recognizing their faces. Without much pause, the solemn news report added more details. "Rosa Anderson, a beloved elementary school teacher, as well as their child, Cedric Anderson, aged five, lost their lives in the crash."

The food in his mouth tasted like mush, and Chester lost his appetite. Seeing the happy trio that he had seen alive and well not even two weeks ago all killed by a drunk driver, made him feel a bit numb. On the news, any report of death, no matter how high the number, usually never affected him. But now those numbers weren't as simple anymore; they were living, breathing people he knew in passing. He watched numbly as the camera panned to the grieving relatives and before he knew it, the news had already moved on to the next topic.

'That's it? An entire family got killed, and that's all the acknowledgment they get?'

He didn't think it was enough. Chester tried to keep his mind off it, attending whatever events and trying to go about his day, but the images of the fallen family passed through his mind like a haze. The man didn't think he'd be so affected by the passing of acquaintances he barely knew. He guessed that it was the realization of how fragile human life truly was that made him so moody today.

Maybe it was the fact the bubbly child he had seen, so full of life and joy, was taken away so quickly. Chester cynically thought that it was for the best they died together, rather than leaving one or two to pick up the pieces of a broken family. A dark thought; a horrible one, but it intruded in his mind like an unwelcome guest.

Sitting by the entrance of the hotel room he was staying, the thief lit a cigarette and took one long drag. He let the smoke go into his lungs before breathing out and placing the stick of tobacco on the ground. It was still lit, and he positioned it so the vapors would go upward. His own way of saying farewell to the family.

'Rest in peace, wherever you may be.'