I was just about to hit a mark when I heard the sirens. My hand was literally outstretched, ready so slide the gold Rolex off the man's wrist. It was obviously new, maybe something he bought after a successful night of gambling. The sirens put me on edge and caused me to turn sharply, which in turn made the man instinctively look at me, ruining my run. I looked down just as quickly and allowed the people walking by around us to conceal me.
Usually, sirens didn't bother me. But they were getting too close for comfort lately. The police knew who we were— actively looking for us, even— and I had heard little murmurs about a potential bust. The most recent sirens had been heading in the direction of the CP's base, or as near as I could tell from the sound bouncing off the many walls. This was concerning, and I needed to get there in case something went wrong.
I allowed the stream of people to propel me forward until I ducked into an alley. Using a nearby fire escape, I scaled the building and turned in a slow circle, trying to see if I could gague where the cops were. If they had sirens going, they most definitely had lights. They were going for speed, not stealth, hoping to catch us off guard as opposed to catching us by surprise. I couldn't see them and soon gave up trying to locate the cars and instead focus on getting to the hideout before them.
I sett off across the rooftops, using old shortcuts and paths I had run a thousand times before. I made it to the roof of the hideout and drew one of my knives out of my pockets just in case. I leaned slowly over the roof and saw that everyone was packing the van. They seemed ready to leave. I climbed down the roof and onto the nearest windowsill. I prayed that it wasn't locked and sure enough, the window slid open. I swung inside and to my sleeping spot.
I had learned to pack light on the streets. Sometimes a few seconds to grab your things was all I had, so it took almost no time for me to grab my tattered backpack and bedroll. I went outside to the van then threw my stuff in the back. I planted my foot on top of a rear tire and used it to climb onto the roof of the van, then looked down at everyone. "What's the game plan? Where are we going?" I asked to no one in particular. I was too busy listening to the sirens. They were definitely louder.
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Call me Ishmael.
Put that thing back where it came from or so help me
Gang: Ishamel and Ishmeal
Narnia is my city.
The strong are not those who show strength in front of us, but those who win battles we know nothing about.