The Bandit

Another image of a Theft scene flashed over the screen of the TV. your work. All those people left in pure fear and frantically looking for the identity or even just a clue of the person who had been behind the repeated robberies of the past few months.

What they didn’t know?

You were watching, an amused grin plastered all over your face and the stolen goods worth thousands of dollars sitting comfortably in your apartment.

And nobody knew who you were.

Nobody, except for him.

He knew everything. Your name, place of residence, age….probably even your social security number and he had just waited for the right moment to find you and see you in person.

Arthur slowly made his way through the crowd of the bar and sat down onto one of the bar stools, his eyes narrowing in satisfaction. He had immediately found your face even in such a big crowd.

You were just sipping away another cocktail, celebrating the robbery on your own and in complete secret as a cautious and low voice carefully spoke into your ear.

„i know who you are.“

You tensed. There was no way, you had always kept your identity hidden, leaving behind no clues or traces, so how could he-

„I might need your help for a little favor..“

He completely dismissed your visible distress and continued to explain something about some stolen painting he wanted back and how valuable it was for him.

a rich jerk asking for your help? No way. It was completely against your goal to take from the rich to give the poor, so helping him was no option.

„Find someone else.“

You shot back, your fingers gripping the glass even tighter, the white color of you knuckles clearly visible.

„Oh…i don’t think you have a say in this….“

He leaned even closer, his voice dropping to a dark and threatening tone, clearly leaving no room for discussion.

„It would be a shame if anyone found out about your criminal identity, right?“

shit