Photo credit: Spatz_2011, Flickr (modified)
Rali’s patience paid off. Artaro emerged, slipping into darkened streets. Her nightvision revealed his puffy eyes, quivering lips. He’d taken Dex. Meaning he planned to run tonight.
Rali planned to catch.
Weaving around drunken stragglers, she sought her moment. The Golguri icon was hers. She’d stashed it quickly, before the Guards searched her. Artaro only nabbed it accidentally.
Artaro slithered up a sheer wall. Spider gloves, nice. Rali climbed quick enough to see him run across the rooftops.
She danced over the tiles, cat-quiet. He had youth, but she had practice.
Artaro glanced around nervously. Throwing back another potion, he shivered.
Rali felt the vicarious rush of speed, false invulnerability. Rookie arrogance, over-modding.
Artaro took a risky turn. Steeper slopes, farther apart. He leapt the gaps.
Rali evaluated. Not worth it, even if she lost credit for her heist. Life over reputation: survivor’s creed.
Artaro’s next jump fell short. Flailing, falling, crashing.
She arrived first, grabbed the icon. She left his gold, so it looked like an accident. She took the gloves, though. Retrieval fee.
Word count: 175. Written for this week’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers challenge. Thanks for Priceless Joy for hosting, and to Grant-Sud for the original photo prompt, below:
Photo © Grant-Sud