WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS VIOLENCE AND DEPICTIONS OF BLOOD THAT MAY BE UPSETTING TO SOME READERS.

  Darkness lined the walls of the room, enveloping the space in an eeriness that made it feel like something monstrous could leap out of the shadows at any moment. The air was warm and suffocating, like a bear squeezing at the oxygen in the room and pressing it down.

  18-year-old Shikyo Fujimori sat at his desk, his black eyes reflecting the image of blueprints displayed on the screen in front of him. He drummed his fingers against the desk, chewing on his lip as he studied the blueprints. With a sigh, his hand lifted up to the screen, and he swiped left with three fingers, shifting the focus of the screen from blueprints to live surveillance footage of Obelisk Financial Services - the local bank.

  The bank was a large, white building, standing at about five storeys tall, with a massive sign at the top of the building that read: Obelisk Financial Services.

  Local citizens of Techspire City filed in and out from the local bank like schools of fish. Guards stood at the entrance of the building, checking people's IDs.

  Everyone who was employed in Techspire had an ID. That way, they could be tracked. The scientists of the city tracked everyone. Shikyo didn't know why. He had heard it was so that they couldn't commit crime, and so anyone who did wouldn't have a way out.

  Other things Shikyo had heard was that it was so anyone who made even one mistake could be taken to the prisons run by the scientists. Shikyo didn't understand that theory; why would the scientists want people to do wrong things in Techspire? Didn't they want to make the city a better place?

  Shikyo sighed and sat back in his chair, wiping a stray, black hair off his pale face. Being unemployed, the boy didn't have an ID, meaning he had no access to the bank whatsoever. And having no access to the bank meant that he couldn't pay rent, and of course, if he didn't pay rent, he would end up on the streets.

  Leaning forward again and swiping his tablet screen back to the blueprints, the boy sighed, knowing the idea he had was risky.

  But I'd rather not end up homeless, he thought conflictedly, his eyes skimming over the blueprints again.

  He already had a plan in mind:

  First, he would climb in through the back window on the first floor. Then, he would slither through the crowds into the room of vaults, pick the locks of as many of them as he could, and take the cash. The last step, of course, would be to make a run for it.

  Switching off the tablet and emerging himself in the darkness of the small, one-room apartment he was in, Shikyo stood up and scuttered over to the doorway on the other side of the room. He swung the door open, letting the stunning, indigo light shine over his slim, fine form. The light tinted his pale skin purple and sent gleams of purple slithering through his black-and-sliver hair.

  Sighing, he stepped outside.

  Let's do this, Shikyo, he internally hyped himself up, cracking his knuckles swiftly. He lifted one foot off the ground, and then the other, until he was jogging his way down the street to Obelisk Financial services.

  But just as he was running, his stomach growled and whined with hunger, stopping him in his tracks.

  "Okay, fine," he hissed at his stomach, turning to run in the other direction.

  "Can't rob a bank on an empty stomach."

  His legs carried him South in the direction of Techspire's Whisperwood Café - the most well-known place to eat out in the whole city, and of course, the most expensive.

  Slowing his run down to a casual walk, Shikyo stalked around the café in search of someone who looked wealthy.

  His lips curled up into a sly smile when he saw a middle-aged man standing outside the café, wearing a fur coat.

  His stomach burned. He had to eat something soon.

  Cautiously, he approached the older man and cleared his throat.

  "Good afternoon, sir," he greeted the wealthy figure with a small nod of his head.

  The wealthy man turned to Shikyo, not even granting the boy a single smile.

  "Afternoon," he mumbled, before turning back to the café, as if contemplating whether or not to head inside.

  Shikyo hissed under his breath at the wealthy man's rudeness.

  God, this guy really pisses me off, he thought, approaching the man further.

  "Uhh...This place sure has been well renovated," he conversed in a sugary tone. "It's quite a sight to see."

  The rich man nodded, not batting Shikyo an eye whatsoever.

  With a sigh, Shikyo inched closer to the wealthy man. Maybe he could use the man's ignorance to his advantage?

  Reaching a hand towards the pocket of the man's fur coat, he continued to converse.

  "Good food and a beautiful building, huh? That's why it's the best café in Techspire...?"

  The older man hummed, not interested.

  Shikyo burrowed his hand into the man's fur coat, feeling around it until his hand fell on something made of leather. Clearing his throat, he slowly pulled the leather object out of the man's pocket, revealing it to be a wallet. Before the older man could notice, he shoved the wallet into the pocket of his baggy, worn jeans.

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  "Uhh," he began, "well, it was nice chatting with you sir. If you don't mind, I'll go get myself something to eat."

  His stomach whined in agreement.

  After not hearing a response from the older man, he shrugged and walked into Whisperwood Café.

  The bitter scent of coffee and humming chatter of residents slammed into Shikyo's senses like a brick wall as soon as he entered. The walls of the café were a cream white. Round tables and white, cushioned chairs lined every corner of the complex, each chair holding a person. The café was filled to the brim.

  God, this place must not have any air-conditioning, Shikyo thought, fanning himself with his shirt.

  It's pretty damn stuffy in here.

  The woman at the counter lifted her head to look at Shikyo with a warm smile plastered on her face.

  "Good afternoon," she greeted him sweetly. "What would you like today?"

  "Uhh, just a basic sandwich please," he responded, attempting his best, friendly smile. A clumsy bead of sweat slipped down his forehead.

  The woman nodded and pulled a ham-and-cheese sandwich out from the trays behind the display glass under the counter. She grabbed a brown, paper bag and neatly placed the sandwich in the bag, before sliding it over the counter towards Shikyo.

  "That'll be twelve dollars please," she demanded in a sugary tone, holding her hand out for the money.

  Shikyo pulled the stolen wallet out of his pocket, pried it open and filed through the notes inside.

  Way to overprice your sandwiches, he thought as his fingers flew through the notes. Finally, he landed on a ten dollar note.

  "Here," he said, pulling the note out of the wallet and handing it over to the lady.

  The lady gingerly took the note from him with a nod.

  "Thank you, and enjoy your meal!"

  Shikyo nodded, taking the paper bag and leaving.

  The wind blew strands of hair into his eyes, singing to him encouragingly as he ambled his way to Obelisk Financial Services. He stuffed the last bit of the sandwich he bought into his mouth, fuelling himself up for the heist. The bread was soft in his mouth, like a cloud, the ham was awfully sweet, and the cheese added a bitter touch to the amalgamation of flavours. It wasn't the greatest thing to eat, especially coming from an expensive café, but it was enough to appetize Shikyo for the meantime.

  After a few, gruelling minutes of walking over paved sidewalks and weaving through paths of skyscrapers, Obelisk Financial Services loomed over Shikyo like a giant looking down on him.

  Two guards lined either side of the front door, their attention turned towards Shikyo as he stood nearby them.

  Trying not to act suspicious, Shikyo waved meekly at them, pulled his best attempt at a charming smile, and headed off towards the back of the building.

  The guards both nodded at him as he passed, seemingly not suspecting anything of him.

  Once at the other side of the building, he clamped his hands on the windowsill, counted to three, and used all the strength he had in his lean arms to haul the rest of his body onto the windowsill.

  As he balanced on the thin frame, people standing nearby on the first floor whipped their heads around to look at him with looks that varied from puzzled to concerned.

  Shikyo chuckled at the crowds he had watching him as he spread his arms out beside him to balance on the windowsill properly.

  Come on, Shikyo, he thought. Just jump. It's not that hard.

  Taking a deep breath, he launched himself into the air and waited for his feet to hit the floor.

  They didn't.

  Instead, he bellyflopped onto the timber floors of the bank, shocking the civilians that were standing around and waiting in line to gain access to the vault rooms.

  How embarrassing.

  Gruffly, he pushed himself off of the ground, dusted himself off and pushed his way through the crowds of people to one of the empty vault rooms.

  Unfortunately, there was a guard standing still as a statue at the entrance to the vault room.

  Upon seeing Shikyo, the guard's expression hardened, his eyebrows knitting into a frown, and his mouth twisting into an unfriendly scowl.

  "This room isn't for public entry," he bellowed, holding his palm out towards Shikyo as a blockage.

  Shikyo didn't move.

  I need the money, he thought. There's no way in Hell I'll move.

  "Sir," the guard exhaled frustratedly, "if you do not move, I will have to move you by force."

  Shikyo still didn't move. Shivers ran down his spine. Nevertheless, he forced the corners of his lips up into a maniacal smile. His pupils shrank inside his dark irises.

  What an idiot, he scolded the guard in his head.

  "Go ahead and try," he poked, crossing his arms defiantly, although his fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles had turned white.

  I shouldn't be doing this, a confrontational thought whispered to him. This is going too far.

  He shook it off.

  I need the money. I'm not leaving now. Not when I'm this close.

  The guard, unsuspecting of Shikyo's motives, stomped his way towards the boy and reached for his shoulder.

  Shikyo sidestepped quickly away from the guard's grasp, his eyes scanning over the burly man's form in search of something to fight with. His eyes landed on a gleam of grey metal held on the guard's belt that glittered like silver. Swiftly, he wrapped his fingers around the object and snatched it out of the guard's belt, just before the burly man could turn around to face him. It felt smooth and cold, like a piece of marble in his hand, which made it easy to hold.

  CLICK!

  Shikyo's crooked smirk spread along his face from ear-to-ear; he took a step forward, a gleaming, metal gun pointed at the guard. A surge of power came over him. He had wanted this more than anything, and now all he needed to do was pull a trigger to get closer to it.

  "Too slow," he teased the guard in a sing-song voice.

  Shocked, the guard raised his hands in surrender.

  "Young man," he began defiantly, "this could land you in serious trouble. I already told you that access to that room is strictly prohibited."

  I don't care.

  Shikyo's pointer finger played with the trigger of the gun.

  "Ahh, so what?" He asked. "I got nothing to lose."

  A look of dread overtook the guard's face as he knew he wasn't able to get out of this situation.

  Shikyo stuck his tongue out at the guard. Then he pulled the trigger.

  What happened next passed faster than a peregrine falcon soaring through the air:

  The guard fell to the ground lifelessly in a pool of blood, his limbs flopped unnaturally over his form like a ragdoll.

  Everyone in the bank turned to look at Shikyo in fear, all of them crouching down. People were crying. People were screaming. Panic surged like a wave through the bank.

  One of the staff members behind the front counter of the bank called the emergency services, their voice quivering as they spoke.

  Shikyo dropped the gun, burst through the vault room like a bolt of lightning and began picking the closest vault to the entrance. His heart was pounding profoundly in his chest.

  He had unlocked the gleaming, silver door and reached inside, locking his fingers around as much cash as he could physically carry.

  Then he ran out of the room and bolted out the front entrance of Obelisk Financial Services, startling everyone in the complex, despite them already being in a panic.

  Dopamine drowned him in its pleasing adrenaline.

  "HAAH! That was incredible!" He yelled as he ran across the roads of Techspire, stopping pedestrians and cars in their tracks. The wind blew at his hair and pushed into his eyes, stinging them whenever he didn't blink for long periods of time.

  His gaze focused itself on the pavement below him to make sure he didn't trip over and drop the cash stuffed in his hands.

  BAM!

  All of a sudden, Shikyo bumped head first into something. The force of the impact sent him stumbling backwards, losing his balance, falling onto the ground and landing on his backside.

  The loads of cash he held fell out of his hands and scattered themselves across the pavement.

  Shikyo looked up. As he did, his eyes widened and his lips curled up into an awkward smile.

  "Shikyo Fujimori," the man standing above him greeted him firmly. He had blonde, slicked-back hair, pale skin, and eyes covered by dark sunglasses. A creased, blue police uniform covered his form; a golden police badge glinted on the left side of the burly man's chest. He held a shimmering pair of silver handcuffs.

  "S-sir," Shikyo stammered, his lips quivering. "To w-what may I owe the p-pleasure of speaking with you t-today?"

  "You're under arrest," the police officer announced bluntly. He reached out with one hand, grabbed Shikyo's wrists, and slid them neatly into the handcuffs.

  "You have the right to remain silent."

  Shikyo chuckled.

  Oh God, he thought. I'm in deep shit now.