Visionary

Chapter 15: The Raven

To most of her family and friends (of which there were few) Grace was known simply as Grace Castle. To everyone else, she was known as The Raven.

The Raven-- a criminal identity passed down from mother to daughter over the years. Grace was the fourth Raven, and the second Raven to commit crimes in The new and complete Washington City. Grace's mother had retired recently and passed down the Raven mantle to Grace. Thievery and crime was all Grace had been taught as a child, so she was used to it.

The Raven costume consisted of black pants, boots, a shirt, a jacket with a hood, a black bandana, and sunglasses.

Grace scoped out the building of the man she was going to rob in the next few minutes. It was tall, silver (like every other building) and was lit by blue illumination. Its inhabitants were a rich politician and his wife and kids. Patrick Flanagan had been second in line for president of Washington City, but had still lost to Weatherford by a couple thousand votes. She was sure he wasn't in the least bothered-- he still had enough money to buy himself at least the luxury of The President Spire, if not more.

Until tonight.

Grace's gloved hand slipped a small disc out of her pocket. It was black, with blue symmetrical lines running vertically across it. She pressed onto the silver wall, and two silver pincers dug deep into the wall, creating a suitable climbing hold. She repeated this action with another disc, and started the long climb upwards, moving the climbing discs slowly upward to her destination, the window of the top floor.

She climbed until she reached about halfway up the building, then stopped and rested on a window ledge. The window led to the currently dark kitchen. She sincerely hoped no one would go for a midnight snack and find her awkwardly sitting on the windowsill, wearing sunglasses at night like an idiot. Thankfully, no one did.

After a few more minutes of resting, Grace once again began the climb. It was a beautiful night-- the stars and moon seemed especially bright, and their light mixed well with the blue illumination of Washington City.

Grace climbed until she finally reached her destination. She deactivated the climbing discs and returned them to her pocket. Earlier today, she had been certain that a man as rich as Patrick Flanagan would've installed a state of the art security system; so she'd snuck into The President Spire and had hacked into the mainframe computer of the city, where she'd casually deactivated his security system. She also hoped that Patrick hadn't reactivated his security system, then she realized that tonight's heist was already depending on quite a few what-ifs.

She shook the thought away and cautiously opened the window, which had been left carelessly unlocked, likely to let the cool breeze of the earlier weather to float in. As Grace pulled the window slowly upward she tensed, prepared for alarms to ring out abruptly any second. Luckily for her, they didn't. She slipped inside gingerly, careful to make absolutely no noise. She had ended up in a bedroom- the bedroom of Patrick's ten-year old son.

The room was decorated lavishly-- exquisite carpets, an expensive TV, a custom-made wooden bookshelf, even the nightlight was extravagantly crafted. Grace's boots made no noise as she stealthily walked to the door, then slowly turned the doorknob. The door creaked as it pulled slowly open, the sound seeming even louder than it actually was after moments of silence. Patrick's son muttered something in his sleep, and Grace held her breath, certain she would be caught. The boy simply turned over in his covers and drifted off to sleep again.

Grace breathed a sigh of relief and stepped through the door way, out into a hallway. The hallway's edges were met with stairs leading down into the second-to-highest floor, and a gold-plated chandelier hung on the ceiling. Next to the boy's bedroom door were two more. Grace tried the next one, this time opening the door faster so if it did creak, it would be quick. This room held nothing but a crib, where a young toddler slept.

Grace closed the door and tried the third and final room, which was likely the most luxurious of all. It was decorated similarly to the boy's room, except it held a large king bed where Patrick and his wife, Annabelle, lay sleeping. Grace walked stealthily to Patrick's nightstand and searched it, hoping to find his wallet, which would likely hold his credit cards. When she didn't find it, she checked Annabelle's nightstand only to find it yielded the same results. She then observed the room carefully, and mentally slapped herself in the face when she realized Patrick's wallet had been on top of his nightstand the whole time. She hastily walked over and opened the wallet, only to hear the earsplitting beep of an alarm.

"Of course," she muttered softly. "A wallet alarm. The one thing I didn't think of." Wallet alarms were a recent but useful development in the security market, and they were (unfortunately for Grace) battery powered, therefore unaffected by the deactivation of the Flanagan's security system.

The moment the alarm activated, Patrick and Annabelle almost jumped out of the covers in surprise. They both shrieked- Patrick's higher pitched than Annabelle's- and Grace stood there awkwardly for a moment.

"Hello," she said, and she dashed out the door. She ran past the toddler's room, hearing her shouting something unintelligible, and she nearly ran into the son as he opened his door, bewildered. She sprinted down the stairs, and Patrick chased after her, carrying the newest version of the Tech Gun, which unfortunately was the Rapid Fire, Version II.

Spheres of energy flew all around Grace as she dashed down, from floor to floor. Eventually one grazed her arm, and a she felt a sharp, burning sensation. She gritted her teeth and ran on, until she reached the bottom floor, where she threw open the door and, still sprinting, escaped into the night. Her hood slipped off and her long, black hair blew wildly in the wind. She ran down the streets and through alleys for a few minutes until she was sure Patrick had lost her, stopping for a rest as she leaned against the silver wall of another tall building.

Tonight's heist had gone wrong in nearly every way possible. This was her first failed mission, for one. And for another, she was undoubtedly sure that Patrick would report the incident, and by tomorrow the whole city would know one of the only things Grace's mother had wanted to keep secret.

In the past, Grace's great grandmother, grandmother, and mother had kept their missions public, even embracing other people's knowledge of the events. They would leave their calling card- the feather of a Raven. Grace's mother had wanted Grace's version of The Raven to stay secret, at least for a little while. But by tomorrow morning...

The public would know of the return of the infamous Raven.