It was a beautiful summer day with no clouds in the sky, Elliot hated it.

While the city folks frolicked in the sunlight, Elliot sat in the dark and gloomy alleyway. He had to be patient; patience was the first thing he had to teach himself when he decided to make his living through thievery. Although the stench of waste made him grow restless.

He rubbed his hands together to pass the time; in his head, he checked his list. Hoodie, check. Gloves and face mask? Check. Cloudy day? Elliot shook his head.

Part of him wanted to postpone the operation but the target would not return for another month. Fall was around the corner and although winter was many months away, the mountains had a gift for the unexpected.

He had no choice. It was now or never. He needed that money for Flora, his sister.

Elliot knew Flora hated seeing him with all the extra clothing. She would complain and cry every time she saw Elliot put on the extra layers. Unsure if she would ever see him again. There were times her nagging and tears would reach Elliot and he would abandon whatever robbery he had planned that day. But more often than not, he would lift her up, kiss her on the cheek, and hug her before heading out.

He peeked his head out of the alley to see the giant marble clock tower that overshadowed the surrounding buildings. Elliot had never seen anything like it before. The constant ticking of the hands drove many of the citizens mad, including him. But over time the ticking was as familiar to Elliot as his own breathing.

Elliot had difficulty learning how to tell time using this new mechanism, but in the end it was well worth it.

He had heard rumors of its creation. The first from a young merchant who claimed that the architect of the clocktower drank a potion that granted him the knowledge to create the clock. The second from an elder who claimed it was knowledge once lost to them. Only recently rediscovered by exploring the ruins of a long forgotten civilization.

A bunch of bullshit really. Elliot thought.

The clocktower was not lost knowledge from a bygone people or thought of from a magic potion. Elliot believed the clocktower was nothing more but the accomplishments of modern ingenuity.

Elliot squinted as he read the clock. 11:35

“Five more minutes." Elliot whispered.

He dug into his left pocket and pulled out a piece of parchment. The words were rough and uneven except for a few words that were legible. Some words were longer than he had expected and some were ones that he had never heard of before.

Elliot smiled. She's been practicing.

It was a story his sister had written for him before he left for the city. Flora had many hobbies over the past few years but writing and healing was something that occupied much of her time as of late. Elliot would begrudgingly find her in the middle of the night next to the dying campfire writing as much as she could before the light from the flames died out. He wondered if she had dreams of becoming a writer one day or if this would turn out to be another hobby of hers.

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Voltan the Cuauhtli.

The warrior looked over the desecrated city on top of the hill. Fire spread as screams of the people filled the air. Voltan turned to see the man of shadow standing before him. The creature thrusted his blade towards Voltan, who skipped to the side but not before receiving a cut on the face. Voltan summoned his eagle who soared up high towards the sun. The bird's wings began to glow before bursting into flames. The color of the flames were like that of a rainbow. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet colors all wrapped together before descending upon the shadowy man as—

Elliot turned over the parchment. There was nothing left. Elliot frowned, he really wanted to know who ended up winning this fight. If it was going to be Voltan and his cuauhtli or this shadowy man. Then, once the excitement died a bit, Elliot noticed Flora's mistake.

He spurred into action and began to rip the parchment until the word cuauhtli was no longer legible. He turned side to side, expecting to see prying eyes. But there were none. Elliot realized he was holding his breath and his heart was racing.

He calmed himself as best he could. Breathing in and out nice and slow. Memories he wished to forget began to play in his mind. The sight of blood on his arms. The cold metallic feel of the hammer. The warm body on the ground. His hand began to tremble and he used his free hand to balance himself against the concrete wall.

Never again.

Elliot gazed at the clocktower once more.

11:45

Right on cue, a man ambled through the streets. Elliot pulled his head back into the alley as his target walked by him. It was time to get to work.

Elliot jumped up and down to get the blood flowing and began climbing the brick wall in front of him. He moved with immense speed, leaving the ground far behind him. When Elliot reached the top he felt the warm breeze hit his face.

The wind felt the same as it did back then. Cool and gentle. He longed to remove the mask and cloak. Elliot hesitated but brushed the thought away. He could wait until he was back in the forest to feel the wind and sun on his face.

He took a moment to bask in his hard work. All those days spent climbing trees and building muscle was well worth it. Where once the climb was hard and slow, now it was nothing but a warmup. Dash had offered to teach him how to climb but Flora was against ever seeing him again. For reasons that Elliot did not know.

Elliot began to tail the man from above, scaling farther away from the sights of those who might notice him. The infrastructure was a claustrophobic nightmare. Each building was built so close to one another that a man with a slight gut would find it difficult to enter the gaps between each building. This worked in Elliot's favor as all he was able to hop from building to building.

He was confident that this would be an easy steal. Elliot had spent the better half of a year studying the habits and patterns of the baron.

In the afternoon, the baron would exit his home and roam the city to find someone from the lower class to bully. Next, he would head towards the city market to talk to a female jewelry merchant. Most of his attempts were met with a distasteful smirk from the woman. Any man would deduce that the feelings were not mutual. Elliot didn't know if the baron chose to ignore this fact or was oblivious to it.

The baron stopped in his tracks as he found himself in front of a couple. A woman, whose rib cage could be seen protruding from underneath her skin, scurried behind her husband. The husband was in a similar state. Elliot felt pity for the two. Memories of hungry nights sprung to the surface.

The husband crawled his way towards the baron. His legs shook from the weight of his body.

"Please sir, my wife and I haven't eaten in days. And if the rumbling in our stomachs doesn't kill us, then the hard slaps of winter's cold winds will. I beg you to find it in your heart to spare at least five gold coins. Perhaps with that, we could eat for a week," the beggar pleaded, lifting his hands in the air. That was a gesture Elliot was more than familiar with.

A grin grew on the baron's face. "Now why would I do that? Why would I donate five pieces of gold to someone who isn't worth five pieces of copper? Or could you prove to me otherwise? Perhaps I should donate a house to you," he said, moving back and forth with his cane as if he were entertaining a large crowd.

"Yes. A house made of manure would be sufficient. Begone!" the baron shouted. With a swift jab of his cane, he knocked the beggar aside. A screeching cry came from the beggar's wife as she rushed towards her husband. Tears fell from her face.

Elliot began to grind his teeth. He hated people like the baron. Privileged individuals who resided behind the golden gate at the back of the city. No one besides the barons, the king, and the farmers know what lies behind the gates. Elliot tried asking one of the farmers, but the man claimed to have forgotten. Elliot felt they were ordered to stay silent or otherwise lose their jobs.

Elliot wanted to help the man and his wife. He knew the pain of living on the streets as a beggar all too well. But he would never take from the unfortunate. He had morals after all. Only taking from those who can afford to lose the money. From the greedy and gluttonous barons who ruled the city with an iron fist. Leaving the rest to work and die for them.