oncedevil: (Unsure face)
Hell I don't even know how to start this damned thing. Someone suggested I keep track of my "echoes" or "pulses" or whatever the hell you want to call them and at the time I thought it was a good idea. Now that I'm sitting here trying to write down a whole bunch of crazy, I'm having my doubts.

Oh well, here it goes:

I'm Anthony Sparado, guess I should write that down in case I forget it. I have no family and no home, I live on the streets and do tricks for spare change. But I'm not gonna write about any of that.

I'm gonna write about how I'm slowly going insane.
oncedevil: (Not dignifying that)
Hey, not around. Leave a message, I'll get back to you.
oncedevil: (Default)
There was a certain art to picking pockets, one needed a delicate touch, quick fingers and a mastery of performance to pull it off without alerting the mark. The act was the biggest part, amateurs ran, alerting everyone around them and foiling themselves. That was the issue Tony had with purse thieves. It was nearly impossible to swipe a purse subtly, and then what did you do with the rest of the contents? Everyone knew purses were more black hole full of old receipts and gum wrappers than actual cash. No, it took more skill to slip away with just a wallet, a little more intimacy. Perhaps that was part of why he liked it so much, the adrenaline rush of knowing that if he didn't pull off his act just right he was liable to end up with a broken nose. Or worse.

Now, by no means did he believe himself the best pick pocket ever, he knew better, he wasn't that arrogant. But he'd refined his art over time and learned how to pick out who would make a good target in a crowd. Not a large man, for one they tended to hit first ask questions later, and for another a fourteen year old kid was not going to be big enough to budge him. Women were out as well, but for more personal reasons. Besides, the purses always proved to be irritating. The absolute best choices he'd found were closer to his age, teenagers with cash and easily distracted. Rich kids could spare a twenty here or there, they rarely paid much attention to their surroundings, and a properly disarming demeanor could serve to be just the ticket to getting out scott-free.

Of course the problem with being so picky meant that opportunities were infrequent, but every now and then just the right mark turned up and Tony wasn't about to let it get away. It didn't help that he was getting pretty hungry, and a warm meal sounded mighty tempting at the moment.

When he spotted the boy he knew he'd be perfect, and made his move. Casual lazy stride, hands loose at his sides as he moved in at just the right moment to crash his shoulder heavily into the boy, aiming to fluidly extract the wallet from his pocket as he spun aside from the force.

"Woah, sorry man, didn't see you there."



oncedevil: (Default)

February 2016

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