Crime (h.s. au)

prologue

I pull my hat over my hair, concealing the blonde locks despite the hour. It's fully dark; the lack of suspicion far gone. My eyebrows knit together, my lip taken between my teeth as I look over the fence in front of me. Once I gather my reassurance, I jump up and pull myself up.

As I land, I turn my head to face the destination. There isn't too much to the building in front of me, but it's getting in that proves to hold the biggest issue. Security upon security, men much larger than me, posing the threat. I'm not scared of their size; I can easily outrun them. It's taking them down.

Scanning the premise, I pull the black bandana over my mouth. I conceal my identity to the best of my ability. My dark clothes cover my skin and I make sure I have the one weapon I carry on me: the knife my father gave me before he died.

My eyes scan the area once more, attempting to find the weak spot to break entry. All I need is one thing, then I'm out.

Then I see it, a break in between a building and a shed. I retrieve the tracker from inside my pocket, directing it in the general vicinity. Then it picks up the signal, allowing me to sigh out in relief. At least now I know where I need to go.

I pace along the field, hiding behind trees when necessary, however a group of guards begin to look over in my direction. My breathing hitches in the back of my throat and I hold still behind a tree. At least it's big enough to conceal my entire body, rather than a scrawny tree I had previous been behind.

When I peer around the bark, my eyes land on the same guards, but they disperse. My body runs and I slide down the hill, lying on my stomach in the ditch. I feel my breathing pick up and I stay still, allowing my breathing to even out before I run. Taking in my surroundings, I see two guards approaching my direction and I reach for a pile of leave, placing it over my feet and head. When I hear their footsteps seize, my heart falls in my stomach.

Inaudible talking enters my ears, my heartbeat the only thing I hear as it pounds against the cold ground. My breathing stops and I just remain still.

Then the footsteps continue, my eyes blinking. I look up and see their backs, walking further and further from me. My body forms a ball and I look over the ditch, only seeing three guards aside from the two walking away from me. I clench my jaw, talking myself up before I make my move.

And I go. I push myself up and run as fast I can between the building and the small shed, my hand latching onto the door to the building.

It's dark in the hallway and I grab the tracker, allowing it to illuminate some light into the area. I reach into my pocket and grab my sunglasses, pulling the black aviators over my eyes.

Two lefts and a right turn then I'm there.

My feet move slowly, unsure of what's lying ahead in the halls. Of all the times I've snuck out of the house growing up, I didn't realize I had been preparing for this moment all along.

There's plenty of people who have tried to do what I do, but they've failed many times. Which is why when my father died, I decided to do exactly what he did. Or at least something similar.

My father was a bounty hunter. He lived and breathed off the adrenaline of finding those who did wrong. There was nothing more that I loved than to hear the stories of how my dad caught the bad guy. He gave me real life stories; no fairytales.

And I loved him for it.

However, when my dad died, it became messy. He took a turn down a path he shouldn't have been going down, and decided to go after a man who'd been on the run far too long. It was dangerous, and my mother hated he how excited he was to chase this man down.