Genie

Act 1~ Chapter 1~ A Pick Pocket in London

Chapter 1 

Jace leaned comfortably against the wrought iron fence, his hands deep within his pockets. The crowd he was sandwiched in give him very little room to move but that was why he was here.

He couldn't see the changing of the guard parade, the big man in front of him blocking his view, but Jace didn't mind. He was waiting.

As the parade's volume reached its climax, Jace made his move. He started to squirm forward, muttering halfhearted "excuse me" as he pushed through. Squeezing himself next to the man in front of him, the man wearing the expensive watch and sunglasses. With a hand, light as a feather, he relieved the man of his watch and continued to squeeze on past the many tourist.

"Hey!" the burly voice of the man sounded behind Jace, a hand reaching out to grasp his arm.

"Dammit," Jace hissed, wriggling from his man's grasp and ducking into the crowd. He weaved through the people too distracted with what was happening before them, to try and stop him.

It seemed so odd that all of these people are so obsessed with British Royalty, and things that are as common as the changing of the guard which happened every single day. Jace wasn't going to be the one complaining though, it was the ideal environment for unnoticed, petty thievery.

At this point, the seventeen year old could spot the path of least resistance through the crowd and he was able to slither out of the gathering fairly quickly. The man that had lost his watch wasn't able to move as quickly as Jace was stuck far behind the boy, still ranting and raving.

Strapping the newly acquired watch to his own wrist, Jace tossed his skateboard to the ground, and took off down the pavement. The sounds of the parade slowly faded behind him, and he joined the legions of people meandering through the London streets on Saturday.

It was a fairly nippy day in England, it was November after all. Jace wasn't exactly fond of how cold it was today but was exceedingly confused by the fact that the sunlight beat down overhead. But he wasn't paying much attention to it now, turning down a street to his right, coasting leisurely. The breeze rustled his dark brown, messy hair and pulled at his t-shirt in jeans. He turned his head up to the sun for a moment, breathing in deeply. It was freeing. For these few moments, he wasn't responsible for anything but himself. There was an overwhelming feeling of freedom but only for a second, before he oriented himself back to his task.

He rode down the familiar path, making several rights and continuing straight for some time. He finally came to the back streets of London, and in his biased opinion, the best part of the big city. The buildings were older, much like most of London, but they weren't as well kept as the parts that the tourists viewed. The shops here were cheaper but you also ran a greater risk of being scammed. But Jace was headed to a specific shop in a hidden, dark corner that nobody ever visited. It was a small shop called "The Cavern."

"The Cavern" was a family owned pawn shop that appeared beyond sketchy on the outside. Inside was fairly organized and well kept, and Jace knew his way around it like he knew his own name. Jace also was very close friends with the owner. His name was Mark Chalton and was maybe in his early 30's, though his already receding hairline suggested older. He had inherited "The Cavern" from his father, who still lives on the second floor of the shop. Jace had met him when he was wandering about and found that he could trade in his stolen goods here for a fair price. He had been visiting here ever since.

He pushed open door, and set his skateboard against the wall next to the entrance, "Hey Mark."

Mark was standing on a small step stool, trying his best to change the lightbulb above the cashier counter. "Hey Jace, whatcha got for meh?" He hopped down, wiping his hands on the white apron around his waist.