Cairo, Egypt, December 2056
A thief scampered— stalked the alleys and rooftops on steps nearly as silent as the soft paws of the night hunters stalking their pray.
Soft and fuzzy.
The thief loved touching their toe beans whenever they deigned to give her the honor, usually in exchange for the treats she liberated from everything and everyone, from the pockets of the careless rich to the stalls of the hard working vendors.
The desert night was warm.
Warmer than it should’ve been.
It was the wind’s fault.
One could see it from anywhere in the city.
A great windstorm of blazing heat and scouring sands swirling around the city without end.
How long since it had started?
A month?
The thief scratched her head, picking out a tangle in her black, wiry hair.
Hmmm… it was getting to be time for a cut.
She eyed the wind.
It was their Khamaseen’s work.
To keep them safe
At least that’s what she had picked up from her scouting in the bars of the night and the markets of the morning.
Something about outworld invaders.
Praise be the Desert Mother for keeping them safe.
She squinted her eyes at the streak of reddish lightning that briefly illuminated the inside of desert windstorm.
Was there a shadow?
She shrugged.
“Eh?”
Not her concern.
The city’s protectors would keep her safe or not.
If the latter then what was she going to do that they couldn’t?
Better to focus on what she could do.
Which, this night, like every night was to steal and keep leveling up her class.
She shifted, testing her footing, spreading her toes… well, trying to spread them.
Her special shoes had been getting tight for months now.
The thought made her eyes glisten.
They allowed her to do so many thief things that she couldn’t do even with her best Skills.
Run as quietly as the night hunters. Run up walls. Land softly from great heights. And more!
And now her feet were cramped.
That wasn’t the only curse of age.
She shifted, failing to alleviate the uncomfortable feeling in her lower belly. Like she had drank too much water and had to pee, but she didn’t… have to pee, that is.
The damned squishy, damp pad between her legs in her underwear kept shifting like it was going to slip out, but it never did.
“This is so unfair.”
The boys didn’t have to deal with so many obstacles.
Then again.
It did make things more challenging, which meant better leveling.
No, her true problem was her precious shoes.
She could still remember the day over a year ago when the flying man with a smile like the warm sun came down to the orphanage with gifts.
Food, clothes, toys, small, flat phone things.
Among which was her shoes.
She had been forced to stuff socks in them at first, but now?
Her eyes glistened harder and snot began to form.
She wiped it all away violently with her sleeve.
“A thief shows no emotion when on the hunt.”
Thus buoyed she began her night as she scampered— stalked across the rooftops.
She stuck to the entertainment area filled with restaurants, bars, clubs and music.
The noise, the lights, the drunkenness, especially the drunkenness, turned it into a prime hunting ground for her kind.
She had already passed three others in her illustrious society of night hunters.
Although, the fools were unlike her in that they specialized their classes.
Pickpockets, cutpurses, muggers and the like.
All they accomplished was to limit themselves, which limited their opportunities to level.
“Thief Sense: Find The Most Difficult Target.”
Her best Skill.
She suspected it was the best because it was a lot of words.
Those seemed to be better than one word ones from what she had seen and talked about with others in her society.
Weird it led her away from the crowded street and busy establishments.
She shrugged, it hadn’t led her wrong yet.
Thus, she followed it to a rather darker than normal and emptier than normal alley several blocks away.
The silence rang loudly in her ears.
That was the thing about the city night and the thief.
One didn’t want silence.
Silence usually meant something dangerous stalked the darkness.
Monsters.
Perhaps a random wandering monster or one that had escaped the guards on the nearest spawn zone.
Or worse, a human monster.
She feared the latter.
The former just killed… usually.
The latter did… things… then, maybe killed or they took you and kept doing… things.
She had heard plenty of stories.
Seen kids like her or even adults taken away.
Whatever happened to them?
She had never found out.
There were the rumors about unsanctioned pleasure houses in the darkest parts of the city where their protectors didn’t have a firm grasp.
There were regular purges, but somehow, those monsters always eventually returned.
She was on the verge of bolting when laughter and mist surrounded her.
Red eyes in the mist, leaving glowing streaks as it spun around her almost as quickly as the Desert Mother’s wind!
A night hunter!
Well, not a ‘night hunter’, but a hunter of the night.
She wasn’t sure, but it seemed right to her terrified young mind.
“Hello! Fellow night stalker!”
The voice echoed, coming from the far end of the alley, the rooftops overlooking them and right behind her ears.
“What brings you to me? And so unerringly. Almost as if you knew exactly where I lay in wait for my prey.”
“Eep…”
Had she really squeaked like a mouse with her tail trapped beneath a night hunter’s paw?
“It was, um, mighty hunter of the night. I, uh, meant no disrespect.”
Her limbs wouldn’t move, which left her standing surround by mist and slowly, drifting trails of red.
“You see, um, it was, uh— it was my Skill! Please don’t drink my blood!”
Laughter swirled around her.
“Hisss!”
“Mraaooowww!”
“Meow.”
They came.
Dozens.
Eyes shining in the dim light of the moon as it peeked through an opening in the clouds.
“Relax.” The voice addressed the night hunters with what sounded like annoyance. “Not that I’m scared of you fuzzy bastards, but I don’t prey on my own kind. I was just curious how and why a child night stalker,” laughter, “found me when I didn’t want to be found.”
“Um.”
The thief explained as quickly as she could.
Had she given away too much about her Skill?
Yes.
But, it was that or be drained of her blood.
“Hmm… that is interesting. I’ll have to keep an eye on you.”
The thief didn’t like the sound of that, but she wasn’t in the position to object.
“Well, my fellow sister of the night. You have nothing to fear from me. I do not feed on those I feel a certain kinship with. I prefer the vitae of the powerful and entitled.”
“I’m neither!”
“Not the latter, but perhaps one day soon you will be the former.”
“Nope! I won’t!”
“I certainly hope so. We denizens of the night need more of our kind to rise against those that would prey on us. With that said, are you familiar with my territory?”
The thief nodded like she had a giant spider in her tangled hair that needed ejecting.
“Good. Then don’t stray from it. The Daughters of Anubis are on edge and have warned against anyone wandering their territory.” The voice lowered conspiratorially. “And I’ve heard that The Black Fingers of Death have finally pushed too far. Too much violence. Too many people taken from the streets or even their homes. Our great protectors have decided that enough is enough, apparently. But, between you and me, night sister, they should be ashamed for using this invasion thing as an excuse. Honestly, if they hadn’t warned me off, I’d have already done something or at least tried. If you still wish to hunt then might I suggest the Velvet Bunny. I’ve heard rumors that a wealthy young man is celebrating his last night of freedom.” The voice turned to the night hunters. “See? No need for the guardians of the night to get involved. If you really cared then maybe do something about the Black Fingers? And as for you? I admire the tenacity to be out skulking in the dark when you’re bleeding and cramping. Sometimes a young woman shouldn’t think about the levels, but instead she needs to treat herself. Perhaps, a warm bath and soothing music. I know you’ve seen enough success to afford one for at least a few days and nights.”
With that, the thief was alone in the silence once again.
Every other hunter of the night had vanished like so much mist.
…
The thief had an idea.
Whether it was good or bad depended on perspective.
The warning hadn’t fallen on deaf ears, but it also presented an opportunity.
The Black Fingers had to have valuable things to steal. They were about to be preoccupied. A perfect chance for a rising thief to relieve them of said valuables. Even better that she wouldn’t have to worry about the fingers coming after her when they had been smashed by the protectors.
Thus, she skulked her way toward their territory.
It was a lot darker than what she was used to.
Scary, even.
But that was better for a stealthy thief, wasn’t it?
She discovered her error less than two blocks in.
A rush of wind, sudden movement, her stomach dropping and she found herself wriggling like a street rat in the jaws of a night hunter.
She lashed blindly with her knife.
The screech of metal on metal.
Jarring impact as her knife clattered away, sealing her fate.
“This rat tried to cut me!”
“It was very fast for a little girl urchin-type, Rashid.”
The thief kicked, but the iron grip around the back of her collar barely swayed.
“Put her down.”
She bolted only to be seized once more.
Firm hands on her shoulders held her in place.
Only then did she truly see.
An old man’s faces stared down at her from behind a glass-faced helmet.
Her eyes danced around wildly, desperately searching for an angle to escape or perhaps an unlikely savior.
Nothing but cloaked figures blending in with the sand-colored walls of the rooftop oasis.
Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.
Okay, that was weird.
She had never seen a pool on rooftop before even if it was a small one.
Questions on how a pool could be on a roof were tabled for later when she saw one of the figures detach from the wall when there had been nothing a moment before.
Her cloak shimmered for a moment before becoming plain, dark gray rather the sand color it had been. She hefted a strange weapon on her shoulder.
The thief understood it was a gun, but unlike anything she had seen before.
It was sleek and thin, almost like a metallic length of wood without the typical hallmarks of a gun, like a magazine for the bullets.
“What is your name, child?”
The old man smiled like a kindly grandfather.
She only knew what that looked like from the old movies and shows the orphanage had.
She eyed his armor.
Fancy.
It was painted to match the desert and the buildings of the surrounding area, but her thief eyes caught the freshness of the paint and the slivers of rubbed or missed spots where the flat gray metal stood revealed.
“Jasmine!” she blurted.
That hadn’t been her intent.
She knew better than to reveal her real name while working.
“Night Thief!”
Soft laughter made her face hot.
“Jasmine, Night Thief? This isn’t a good place for thieves of any age, let alone a child.”
“I’ll be thirteen in three months!” she snapped.
“Ha! You hear that, guys? She’ll be thirteen, which means it’s fine!” The one that had caught her grinned like all arrogant boys that thought they were better than her did.
She glared right back.
“Oh? Scary! I better watch my stuff!”
The woman with the strange gun approached to whisper in the old man’s ear.
Their helmets must’ve had a built in radio, but Jasmine, Night Thief had a Skill for that.
“… good level for her age. She has an interesting Skill that explains why she’s here. It’s worth a shot, Tariq. We’ll save a lot of time if we can narrow down the areas to search. Maybe even set up an ambush and save ourselves having to hunt at all.”
“Tell me what this Skill of hers does?”
The woman proceed to explain Jasmine’s best kept secret.
“Hey! That’s rude!”
The old man smiled kindly.
“We will commit every rudeness in the world if it leads to a better one.”
“Huh? What does that even mean?”
The woman glared down at her, not that she could see the face behind the darkened glass of the helmet, but it was in the way the woman stood.
Very aggressive and, like, superior.
It was much like the way the wealthy looked down on her when they crossed paths on the streets.
Ha!
The fools!
So easily parted from their material wealth.
Had she had the misfortune of being like them she would’ve definitely kept most of her wealth in Universal Points.
There was nothing for a master thief like her to steal in that case.
“It means you’ve just been conscripted for a good cause, thief.”
The woman even sounded like she was holding her nose up in the air like Jasmine smelled bad.
Which was slanderous, she took care of her hygiene with various items she stole from those cleanliness-centric shops and stalls. It was best to have a neutral scent when skulking.
“Well, how about it, Jasmine, Night Thief do you want to do a good deed this night?” The old man smiled.
She didn’t trust it, but she sniffed an opportunity.
“What? And what will you pay me?”
Laughter, which stung her professional pride.
She’d show them.
She was already scanning their bodies for things to steal.
“500 Universal Points and the gratitude of the Hashashin Order.”
Her eyes widened and her breath stopped as she stiffened instinctively, like a street rat under the gaze of a leopard.
They were real?
She had thought them mere rumor.
Whispers in the dark that the worst denizens of the night feared.
She had been certain that all of that had just been talk.
The kind that they did to scare each other for fun or to keep themselves sharp for the real threats, such as monsters and each other.
The one that captured her chuckled.
“Did she pee herself?”
The woman shot him a look.
“You’ll be respectful, Rashid.”
“She’s a street rat.”
“With a high level for her age and a potentially useful Skill for our purpose tonight.”
“I was just asking a question.”
“Keep them to yourself from now on unless you have an intelligent one.”
“Your order shall be obeyed,” he bowed.
The old man, Tariq, sighed.
“You see what I have to deal with?”
She saw right through his manipulation attempt.
Thus, she merely narrowed her eyes.
“500? Seems low for how important this sounds.”
She put things together quickly.
One had to be quick in mind and body to thrive in the city nights.
“It’s the standard pay for eight hours of contractor work.”
“Eight hours?”
She didn’t like that.
“Which you won’t have to do. Indeed, depending on how things go I expect you’re work won’t even last an hour.”
“Ah, but that’s for standard work. Would you say that what you want from me is standard?” She knew her Skill’s worth and could sense their want.
Perhaps, not a critical one, but one that they’d be willing to pay more for.
“I want… a portion of the Quest rewards.”
They laughed, but she wasn’t distracted as she caught the surprised and pleased look in the old man’s eyes.
She took a breath, trying to keep her voice from quivering.
“That is my price.”
“Tariq, no. She’ll have no part of the danger. She won’t earn it,” the woman said. “If 500 is not enough then how about 5000? I’ll pay her myself.”
Jasmine couldn’t help it. Her face twisted.
She really hated spoiled rich people.
Thinking they could just buy everything and everyone.
She had seen it more times than she could count in the course of her thieving.
“Perhaps not, but the fingers might have the ability to notice her and then who’s to say how much danger she’ll face.” The old man shrugged. “It sounds fair to me. By my authority, I’m including you in the Quest. I’ll also mark you down as an independent contractor. You’ll get that 500 Universal Points and a file for future jobs.”
“Wait? What?”
No!
That last bit didn’t sound like something she wanted at all.
Before she could complain the Quest notice assaulted her eyes and ears.
It took an instant to read or listen to the lengthy details, as it always did with the spires.
“Oh… no…”
There was a lot of danger in the Quest.
More than she would’ve wanted to undertake.
The old man released her.
“Take a few moments to compose yourself. But only a few.”
The hashashins vanished behind their cloaks that seamlessly took on their surroundings, even the empty air.
Except for the old man and another.
The two spoke, but Jasmine didn’t listen in as she struggled to do as told.
She thought quickly.
Escape was impossible.
She had taken the Quest.
Therefore, there was only one line through the rooftops left to take.
The Black Fingers needed to not exist after this night lest she have to live with one eye over her shoulder for the rest of her much-shortened life.
Therefore, she had to do her best to help that happen.
“Right.”
The thought cleared her mind of worries and fears, well, not cleared, but pushed aside for all important focus.
“I’m ready.”
“That was quick,” Tariq said.
She shrugged.
The usual glib remark couldn’t find purchase on her tongue with how dry her entire mouth had gone.
The old man gestured and the other hashashin approached her.
She craned her neck back, but the man kept getting taller and broader.
Like a door… like a double door.
He blocked out the moonlight.
“Aliyah explained how your Skill works.”
“Rude,” she muttered.
The huge man’s face was a craggy mass of scars, which was a little intimidating, but his eyes were kind, so that was something that kept her from following the urge to bolt as he took a knee and whispered conspiratorially.
“I know, right? So rude. Like she’s some kind of princess. She’s not by the way. Just a woman with a rich father.”
“I knew it!”
“Hello, Jasmine. I should introduce myself, my name in Mike. And I’ll be helping you, hopefully, help us help everyone in the city.”
“Killing the Black Fingers.”
“Capture for trial.”
She raised a brow.
“That’s the intent, but, yeah, they aren’t the kind to surrender, so, yeah, killing.” He shrugged huge armored shoulders. “Here. Wear these.” He handed her a pair of fancy glasses.
High tech?
Magic?
High magic tech?
It was hard to tell.
It did sort of look to have similar design aesthetics to the sleek, thin phone things everyone in the orphanage gets from somewhere.
‘Gets’ because such fancy looking things had the tendency of being stolen from children, but she had to give it to the orphanage, she never went long without the precious things whenever someone bigger or stronger stole hers.
She had learned so much from the Omninet that she could only imagine how much worse her life would be without the access.
Perhaps, she’d have had no choice but to join the army or the guards or one of the pleasure houses.
She couldn’t imagine what it would be like in any of those things for people that didn’t actually want to do those jobs.
It sounded like a living hell that she’d kick and bite and cut to stay out of.
She donned the glass and smiled.
Fancy indeed.
Fancy enough to steal?
Lots of numbers and glowing lights came to life as she spun around.
“Distances and… coordinates?” She focused her vision on a distant rooftop, specifically on an antenna waving in the wind.
“That was fast.” The big Mike glanced over at Tariq. “You’ve already figured out how to focus on a point, which is great! Alright, so, this is what we’re going to do. See this?” He held up a much larger version of those slim, sleek phone things. One encased in what looked like armor of its own. “I’m linked to your specs. What you look at is going to be put on this.”
She leaned over to look at the map on the screen.
“How are you seeing that?”
She glanced to the sky.
“Bird summons?”
Mike grinned.
“Something like that. Anyway. That’s not important.”
“So, I use my Skill and look in that direction. And it will show up on your thing? Um…” She didn’t want to blow the opportunity, but these were serious people and she knew better than to mess with serious people when they had the advantage in the moment. “My Skill points me in the direction of… what I want. I follow the arrows, but I don’t know exactly where they will lead.”
“That’s perfect. We’ve already got intel. You’re just helping narrow down the search areas.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“That’s all we ask. So, can you start with the hardest target? Then, we’ll work our way down to, say, medium and then easy?”
“Okay.”
“Ready when you are.”
She activated her Skill.
Thief sense was adjustable.
Hardest was a ten.
Medium was a five.
Easy wasn’t worth her time most days and nights.
Ten turned her to the northwest.
She wasn’t familiar with this section of the city, but it seemed like towards the center of the Black Fingers’ territory.
“Make sure your eyes are focused exactly down the line or arrow or whatever you’re seeing.”
“I am.”
“Alright, good. Hold it. Got it. That was the only hard one?”
“Yeah.”
The big Mike tapped and swiped on his large phone thing.
“Okay, go down a level.”
Nine produced two spots.
Eight, seven and six did none.
There were considerably more for five and under.
“Great job, Jasmine!”
The big Mike snatched her glasses away before she could think to sneak it into her pouch of holding.
Tariq eyed the phone thing and gave her a slight smile, like he was a proud grandfather for some reason.
“I’ll run it through the algorithm. Five minutes,” the big Mike said.
“Send it to the squad leaders as soon as you’re done,” Tariq said. “Rashid.”
“Yes, commander?”
The annoying one that had first grabbed her appeared behind her like he had been there the whole time.
She jumped like a street rat, which shamed her.
“Guard her.”
“Sir? Wouldn’t it be safer for her to leave before we begin the attack?”
“Yes, but if she wants the Quest rewards then she must stay.”
“What if she just runs a few blocks away?” Rashid waved vaguely to the southeast.
“You have your order.”
“Understood, commander.”
“Rashid will guard you with his life, Jasmine, Night Thief, but I find it wise to keep your eyes and ears open and your head down. There are worse things than cats out in this night for a clever street rat to avoid.”
…
“How much longer? Nothing’s happening. Are the hashashin’s attacking? Or are they done? Will they kill all the Black Fingers? They should. There is the risk of escape if they capture them. Better to kill them like the gremlins. Is there a Skill or spell that’s making it so I can’t see or hear any battles? Can I go? I’m quick and fast. No one will see me.”
“Ha!” Rashid snorted. “There is no ‘going’ for you, street rat. Oh sure Tariq will let you go this night, but listen to my words, you’ve been marked.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes and shut up. You see, I thought the same just three years ago. Would you like to hear of my humble beginnings?”
“No.”
“There I was, a young, strong man of perhaps nineteen years of age—”
“How do you not know your own age? This sounds suspicious, like a lie.”
“Shut up, street rat. Listen to your senior. There I was, strong, strapping. A fighter of the streets. Winning in the alleys and the rings… sanctioned and unsanctioned. But, my true goal, my true passion was to become a bodyguard to hot, young women.”
Jasmine’s face twisted reflexively into something akin to the death face of the poor victims of that one cloaked monster that had roamed the streets of the city around five years ago.
She and several orphans had sneaked out to catch a glimpse of a victim that had been found nearby.
The sight had haunted their nightmares for months after.
“What’s with that? I had pure intentions. A bodyguard must not form entanglements with his clients.”
“You lie like a desert whisperer thing.”
“That’s uncalled for. I’ll have you know that I am not a predator of young women.”
“Sounds like something a predator would say. The mothers at the orphanage said that those that proclaim their virtues the loudest are those that hide their inner filth the most.”
“That’s… that’s a little cynical, but I guess accurate.” Rashid shrugged. “I no longer wish to tell you my story.”
“Good.”
“So, there was this thing, an incident. I caught Tariq’s eye. He saw my potential and here I stand.”
“Not fighting with everyone else and just guarding a street rat?”
Rashid scowled.
“I’m the rookie and sadly, my Skills are ideal for protecting another. No matter how scrawny and rat-like.”
She considered bolting, but she felt a bit of tingle that suggested a link to Rashid, like an invisible rope around her belly connected to him.
Her face twisted again with renewed disgust.
“Careful, you keep making those and it just might stick. Although, it wouldn’t be much of a downgrade.”
“Give me my knife back.” She held out a hand.
Rashid chuckled.
“Little street rat thinks she can bite?” He regarded her for a moment then reached at his side and tossed her the knife. “I’ve spent some time on the streets. I can see them in your eyes.”
She caught the handle.
Perfectly tossed.
The knife went back into its sheath at the small of her back.
“Not that the little thing will do much against a Black Finger.”
“How much longer will they take? I’m wasting night.”
“Your night of thieving is over, street rat, best accept that and relax. Otherwise your wait will be miserable.”
…
It took hours before they let her go.
And it wasn’t like she got to see any cool fights.
The battle had been nothing but muted pops of gun and spell fire mixed with the occasional thump and flash of something exploding.
Thus, it was a tired and grumpy thief that finally crept into her secret hideout for a blissful sleep. An uninterrupted one.
Until sometime around noon when a knock on her secret wooden door and a familiar voice woke her up.
Naturally, she tried to run, using a secret tunnel.
Naturally, an annoyingly pretty woman caught her as soon as she emerged.
And that was how Jasmine, Night Thief found herself enrolled in some kind of brand new super secret school.
Against her will, of course.
