“Well, that was easy,” Mira scoffed under her breath as she admired the apple she’d lifted from the vendor’s cart. She smirked, then stuffed the apple into the inner pocket of her long black hooded cloak. 
Midday in midtown Tehopolis was met with thick street traffic and thin attention spans, perfect for a quick lift and a clean break. The vendors all clamoured to appease their daily customers, or distract themselves from the monotony of the daily grind. The suits were either rushing to make their lunch breaks or distracted by their own little lives. A few of them were glued to the Daye and Night podcast being broadcast from a storefront. 
     Same time, every day, Mira thought almost piteously. As usual, she paused for a moment to listen in, to see what load of crap the perky blonde and gloomy raven were trying to pass as news that day. 
     “…I heard they caught the last one, right? Like, they took her out a few years ago?” The perky blonde was Summer Daye, who looked like a cheerleader and talked like every other sentence was a question. “My dad still talks about it? Like, he never lets us forget how bright the flash was.” 
Summer’s partner, the gloomy raven, was Luna Knight. She looked like she was always on her way to a funeral and spoke like she was bored with everything.
     “Yeah, I know. Every time my sister releases an album, she always makes sure to mention how our dad worked rescue in the aftermath,” Luna groaned. “I’m just glad no more are left. I mean, you know I’m all about being different and shit. But, even I think that kind of power is too dangerous, you know?”
     “Totally,” Summer agreed. “I mean, Stormers can be a problem, sometimes? But like, at least the Dampeners keep them in check. That other type was super dangerous. So many people died, all at once. And, what’s worse? Some girls heard about their weird white hair? And now they copy their look! Some people are just freaks.”
     Mira had to hold back the knee-jerk anger. She noted the judgemental stares of some of the suits and met one with a sarcastic expression.
     Least as long as they think it’s just a shitty style, they won’t look too close. 
     She didn’t let it get to her. Instead, she focused on her marks. They all bought into that crap. So, easily distracted. Even an average picker could land at least a light lift, and Mira was craftier than most, as well she should be. Two years of living on the streets, stealing for both survival and recreation, and she’d need to have developed the skill or she’d be locked away. And she, more than most, could not afford that attention. 
     Mira weaved through the crowd of suits and shoppers with a sort of wild Grace. She knew this dance well. The suits strutted by on their phones while the shoppers fluttered between the storefront projectors, each with an added haste to their pace because of the clouds slowly rolling in from the west.

     Natural clouds, Mira noted. No rift. 
     The distractions all provided a useful noise. However, it was among the gearheads where Mira really found her cover. People called them gearheads ‘cause they pretty much based their whole personality on stolen tech, paired with edgy clothes. And, their signature was their Mobigear. It was a waist-mounted, hybrid solar and battery-powered thruster that compressed air to propel the wearer.
     A few paces ahead of her, a group of gearheads landed in the middle of the street, nearly causing an accident, yet only barely startling the crowd. These guys ran the streets, so people just kinda got used to them. Gearheads gave Mira the perfect template in which to hide, something that was especially difficult with her features. She leaned forward, giving her surroundings a quick glance. 
     “Hey, boys!” Mira whisper-shouted. “Feel like giving the bobbies a show?”
     One of the gearheads, a punk with a red spiked mohawk and an array of metals in his face like shrapnel, gave Mira a challenging nod. 
     “You first, chickie!” 
     Mira sighed. 
     Should've guessed. Then, her stomach grumbled. Ugh! Fine. 
     “Just this once,” she warned. "One look." Then, she tossed open her cloak, throwing the edges over her shoulders.
     Her tall mocha-coloured frame was an hourglass of generous curves and long legs. Her eyes were shielded by Tracker Shades that she’d stolen from a sleeping guard. She dropped her hood, revealing a ponytail of glistening white hair and a pair of CyberKitty headphones she had lifted from a dancer who’d left them sitting. Her baggy Shadow’s Pride tee hangs over her tightly constricted chest. A spiked band clasped her right wrist, and a digital watch wrapped her left. One leg of her black denim jeans had tears and scuffs along the front. The other was cut off at mid-thigh. They were belted by her own Mobigear which was her preferred method of escape, if ever spotted. Her bulky black combat boots threatened any who dared to follow. Stood with her hands on her hips as the boys ogled her, she rolled her eyes.

     Gonna be fighting those creeps off for weeks, after this.
     “You done?”
     Spiky Hair nodded suggestively. Then, he reset his tough guy persona.
     “Still dress like a freak!”
     “Yeah, what’s with that creepy hair!?” Another punk teased, his own hair shaved into two orange rows.
     “You’re one to talk!” Mira shot back. “Your hair looks like someone got dragged through a pumpkin patch!”
     Pumpkin Patch sucked his teeth while his friends laughed at him. Then, Spiky Hair switched on his MobiGear. 
     “A’ight boys! Show’s over, let’s FLY!”
     The gearheads lit up and took off, making sure to make a loud show of it. The smoke, flashes, and bursts of air startled all who stood nearby, distracting them from Mira. Among the preoccupied was a hoagie dealer, and Mira used the diversion to nab herself a little lunch. Securing the spoils of opportunity in her pocket, Mira flicked a switch on her thruster pack and, after a bit of sputtering and a few snickers from the gearheads, it released a burst of energy, jetting Mira up the wall of the building beside her. She burst between towering skyscrapers, using the walls as stops so she could redirect her momentum, until she landed on the roof of a nearby office building. Here, she sat and pulled out her stolen sandwich. She tipped a nod to the gearheads, laughing as they whizzed by with security in hot pursuit.
     “Thanks for the assist, boys,” she muttered to herself. She walked over to the roof access door and opened it; they were never locked from the outside. Then, she walked over near the ledge, leaned back on her hand, and dug in. While she ate, she looked out at the city beneath her. She checked her watch. 12:26. She figured she had about five minutes before the security in this building followed the example of the one across the street, and another three before they reached the roof, so she may as well enjoy them. She removed her shades to take it all in, revealing eyes the shape of almonds and the colour of amethyst. With these rarest of gems, she gazed over the skyline as she did every day. The Daily Gate building was off to the east like always, its logo facing the Highlands, where the Gate Callers lived. The Durey Industries tower stood in its usual spot—dead centre of the city, its logo majestically crowning the skyline. 
     Same shit, different day.
     From beyond the access door, Mira could hear security climbing the steps. She checked her watch, again. 12:32. 
     “Hm. Faster than normal,” she noted. She checked the solar gauge on her thrusters. 32%. Clouds had slowed charging to a halt. “Still,” she sighed. “Enough juice for a little free fly.” She finished her last bite and stood, dusting off her bottom and resetting her shades. As she walked to the ledge, she could hear security getting closer. She stood on the ledge and turned to face the doorway, placing the 120 story drop at her back. “Here we go,” she sighed knowingly. She waited until security reached the open door.
     “FREEZE!” a beefy guard in a functional suit yelled out, reaching for his taser. 
     “Nah,” Mira mocked. She inched back, only her toes holding her on solid ground. Two other guards began to move but Beefcake held up an arm to halt them. Mira spread her arms wide as the first droplets of rain fell. She paused, as did the guards. Then, she looked Beefcake right in the eyes. 
     “Bye!”
     Mira leaned back, letting gravity take her. She dropped about 20 floors before triggering her gear, bursting her waist-first toward the nearest wall. She jetted along the side of the wall before jumping out toward the next building, blasting her thrusters as soon as she was clear of the glass. Back and forth she shot, doing spins and flips as she went. 
     “WHOO!” she chirped, enjoying her flight - the wind in her hair, the rain in her face, the beeping in her ear. “Oh, shit!” 
     Mira gasped as she recognised the sound of her gear’s low battery. The clouds had gotten thicker. She was going to have to touch down. Soon. She jetted toward a store with an awning and crashed right through it, crushing the display of fish below.
     “MY CART!” Above her, the rotund balding man in a blood-stained apron stood over her. Enraged, he howled.  “You’ve destroyed my cart!!”
     “Sorry!” Mira whined, clutching her bottom in pain. “Bad landing.” The shopkeep was unamused. He ran to his register console and reached for the alarm button. “No! No, no, no, don’t do tha-UGH!” Mira lamented as he pressed the button, alerting the police to her location. She checked her gauge. 4%. Only enough for one small burst. 
     “Shit!” 
     She stood up, shook off the rubble, grabbed a fish, and started to her feet. Just as she did, the police rounded the corner. Mira looked back to size up her pursuers. Two regular beat cops and…
     “Aww, shit!” 
Mira immediately identified the amber eyes, hairy face, and a patch on the guy’s chest depicting the Beast Sigil – a single solid circle with one short claw aimed downward, and five equidistant longer claws curved upward, similar to a bear claw without the fur. She turned from the police and bolted. The two officers gave chase on foot, with one turning to the Caller and shouting, “Do it!” The Beast Caller stayed where he stood. He cracked his knuckles, clapped his hands together, and slapped his open palms on the sidewalk. The veins in his arms bulged. Then, a cloud of light, and dust, and pure Essence tore out from beneath his uniform. It grew into a mass of flesh that quickly shaped into three big angry snarling red-eyed dog summons, each emerging in full sprint. 
     Within seconds, the dogs overtook the officers and were quickly closing in on Mira, who ducked into an alley. The dogs’ paws skidded on the concrete as they struggled to make the sharp turn. Mira dashed around another corner, using the trash alleys as her escape route. She tapped a button on her headphones, and a phone line rang. She frantically checked off landmarks as the barking dogs grew ever nearer. Gear Repair Shop. Left. The dogs got closer. Keep running. The ringing stopped. Stark Comics. Hard right. Dogs. Keep running. A second of pause as the person Mira called could hear her heavy breathing. Rowley Fashions. YES! Up and over. The receiver answered in a husky and mildly annoyed female voice.
     “Again?”
     Mira looked back at the dogs now only a metre or so away.
     “Again,” she confirmed in a hurried breath. “Open the door!”
     She jumped onto a dumpster, bent her knees, and clicked her gear; thrusting over the one-story clothing shop, one of the dogs nipped at her ankle, tearing off a piece of her cloak. She barely cleared the storefront before her gear shut down, dropping her onto the sidewalk.
     “Dogs?” The voice asked, half certain of the answer.
     Mira stood at the edge of traffic as she heard the dogs find their way out of the back alleys.
     “Dogs!” Mira confirmed. “The door!”
Mira looked to her left and saw speeding cars and horse-drawn carriages. She looked to her right and saw vicious dogs. She opted to try her luck in traffic. She weaved between vehicles as their drivers sounded their horns in protest, and riders reared their horses. As she neared the other side, a door opened in an alley beside the Leone Dance Studio. Behind her, the Beaster rounded the corner and called his dogs back, looking for a safe way around the traffic. Mira dashed to the open door and slammed it behind her. Beside her, a tall bronze-skinned woman stood with an exasperated look upon her exotic face. She had oval-shaped amber eyes, and a thick mane of hair that was highlighted with blended shades of brown. Her golden satin house robe slid softly along her finely toned figure. Her cheetah print slippers meant her personal time had just been rudely interrupted. Hunched over, dripping sweat, and out of breath, Mira barely managed a sentence as she undid her cloak.
     “Don’t say it.” 
     “I won’t,” Nasha Leone assured with a roll of the eyes. Then, she grabbed the perfume that sat on the counter and tossed it to Mira while making her way back to the door. “Here, kitten. You know the drill.”
Mira barely looked up in time to catch the bottle. 
     “I’m not a kitten,” she huffed, incredulously. 
     “Do I hear barking?” Nasha teased, subtly reminding Mira to hurry. 
     Mira lifted her shades so Nasha could see her roll her eyes. Then, she drew a small switchblade from her belt and cut another strip of cloth from her cloak, near where the dog had torn it. She handed the strip to Nasha and balled up the cloak, storing it in a bin under the counter. Then, she immediately sprayed herself with the perfume, focusing under her arms and around her neck, places where sweat was the strongest.
     “Sorry to bust up your ‘me time’,” Mira shot with a hint of sarcasm. But, when Nasha shot her a sharp look out of the corner of her eye, Mira stiffened and bit her lip. “Sorry, Nasha.”
     Nasha softened and returned her attention to the door, peering through the sliding peephole. Slowly, sinuously, Nasha crouched down. She placed her hand on the floor. Her veins bulged slightly. Her eyes glowed, faintly. Then, she slid the scrap of cloth under the door and whispered, “Take the puppies for a walk, baby.” Then, she stood, turned, and walked past Mira toward the door at the end of the hall.
     “Thanks, Nasha,” Mira said, her breath finally returning to her. “I owe you. Again.”
     “Mhmm,” Nasha said before looking over her bare shoulder. “And, tonight, you pay up.”
     “Oh,” Mira paused. “Ok.”