Thief+Dishonored Fics And Crossovers

Close Call

Garrett races across the Thieves' Highway, eyes darting back and forth between his path forward and the rising sun. He stayed out too late. He'd known he was pushing his luck but it wasn't every night he got a haul as good as this. An entire room of priceless trinkets? He couldn't just pass it up.

But now he's paying for all his dallying. A glance to the streets below tells him the City is starting to wake up. Here and there he can see lights coming on in windows, people waking up and getting ready for the day ahead. He can't be caught out here when they do.

He pauses on the edge of a rooftop and peers over it. Two Watchmen are loitering below. They stand in one of the only working electric lights on the street.

One is wearing a helmet. He grumbles as he looks down at his boots. "These boots are ruined…"

"No surprise there." His friend claps him on the shoulder. "You should ask for a raise."

"I'll have a better chance at riding Red Jenny's nag."

They're barely paying attention, which is good, because there isn't much cover in the street below. If he wants to make it past he'll have to be quick. With one last glance at the brightening sky, he drops down quiet as an oiled hinge and darts up the street, making sure to keep his movements in time to the flickering of the street lights. His goal is the corner up ahead but he only makes it halfway before the light he's under blinks to life. Figures.

 "Hey!"

"Stop!"

Garrett doesn't waste time looking back. The sound of boots on cobblestone is confirmation enough. He turns sharply around the corner, one hand on the wall to keep him from crashing into the opposite wall as he does, and keeps going down the street. The Watchmen aren't far behind. His eyes scan the rooftops, looking for a way back up. He's losing shadow fast. The Highway might be his last shot at getting away unscathed. The Clock Tower looms ahead of him, imposing as ever. As much as he wants to make a beeline for it, he can't risk anyone – the Watch especially – knowing where his hideout is. He just has to lose them first.

He continues past two men on the street and turns down another alley. The Watchman with the helmet swings and misses with his sword as Garrett makes a wild grab for a ladder mounted on the side of a building. His fingers connect with cold metal and he starts climbing. If he stays low on the rooftops, he can lose the Watchmen and make his way back around to Clock Tower Plaza. He'll be back in the Clock Tower counting his loot before the first citizens are out of their homes.

A yank on his leg snaps him out of his head. A second almost pulls him off the ladder entirely.

He looks down. The Watchmen without a helmet has his meaty hands clamped around his ankles and is trying to pull him down. He scowls behind his mask. He can't use his blackjack without risking being pulled back down but he can't seem to shake the Watchman off either. Decision made, he squeezes the rungs of the ladder and kicks down. The Watchman isn't expecting that. His heel connects with something and the man cries out and releases him. He clambers the rest of the way up the ladder and disappears over the edge of the roof.

"Taffer!" Comes the slightly muffled cry from the now-bleeding Watchman.

Garrett hoists himself higher onto an adjacent roof and begins making his way towards the Clock Tower. And pauses.

The sky is orange and red, with clouds and smoke from the chimneys trailing across it. The buildings of the City are bathed in orange light and towering over all of it is the Clock Tower, its face glowing just enough to still be visible in the early morning light. It's a side of the City Garrett doesn't often see.

He blinks and starts on his way again. The sun is just about up and the last thing he needs is to be caught again. He won't be so lucky a second time.