The Mole stood up, scratching some dirt from his blonde hair while pushing it away from his eyes.
“Hm? What is it, Mole?” The girl asked.
“Well, he’s the Mad Scientist, he’ll have us out in minutes.”
“Really? But didn’t they get all your stuff?”
“My dear,” he slapped his leg and a small compartment on it opened for him to slide a gadget out of, “an army couldn’t take away these limbs from me.”
“Not without killing you, at least,” the Mole pointed out.
“As if the justice system was so interested in achieving actual results,” he placed the object in-between two bars and pressed on its center.
“Hey, what are you doing over there?”
“I hope you are not squeamish, I am about to murder our guards.” He aimed his hand, opened it like before and it silently shot out a dart against the guard.
The guard was rendered silent immediately. By the time he tried to move, his legs didn’t respond and he fell. He gasped for a few more seconds before dying.
“No complaints here,” the Mole shrugged.
“Uhh,” she was clearly intimidated, which was something Falk was not completely against. “I guess, uhm, do you have to kill all of them?”
“I shall murder only those who try and stop us,” he smiled, “if that makes you feel any better.”
“I…I guess. Thanks?”
The gadget force-opened the two bars so they could fit through.
“Hey!” A voice called out from another cell, “hey, help a fellow thief out, man.”
Falk looked aside while the Mole retrieved the keys from the guard. He saw the girl coming up from next to him, her short braids dangling to the side like wings.
“Do we help him?”
“Of course not, this is a competition.”
“But you helped us,” she pointed out.
“Not much choice,” the Mole argued, meeting them, “we know he can’t harm us so how exactly was he going to keep us in the jail cell?” He shook his head to get the hair out of his eyes, and it slapped lightly against his ears, slimy beyond belief. “We got lucky, let’s not push it.”
“You are a perceptive and respectful individual, Mole,” the Mad Scientist attested, “if only more were alike you and me.”
“We should go,” the Mole pressed again, “I believe we have to report back on the letters. If we even made it past this match…I doubt I did.”
“Me too,” she slumped, not really that bothered about leaving her ‘fellow thief’ behind, “this is really not my usual field.”
They walked out and Falk silently murdered two more guards on their way to get their gear. Falk took a while to put his gear on when compared to the girl, who basically had an assortment of big pouches strapped around her body. About four which, he imagined, all contained parachutes. And he now realized her jumpsuit had straps to open wings…it was a bird-suit in disguise, weirdly tight-fit until she put an elegant dress over it. He assumed however that she wouldn’t customarily be carrying the bags over the dress.
The Mole had little with him when he was arrested; just an electric screwdriver that Falk knew was more powerful than anyone could imagine. They all opened their scrolls, eager to find out the results of the match.
“Whoah, I’m…I’m still in! I passed to the next round.”
“Dark Runner didn’t make it?” the Mole pointed out, “that’s…unexpected.”
“Yes, very,” the Mad Scientist stated, making it obvious he was responsible. The Mole glanced at him with a question so he glared the answer.
“Well, I am out of the competition. Suppose I’ll collect my gear and take my leave…I shall be cheering you on, fellow inventor.” the Mole knew better than to offer a handshake. Instead, he simply bowed his head in respected farewell to which the Mad Scientist responded with a slight one himself.
“Oh man, oh boy, I made it! I just can’t believe it! I guess since skydiving isn’t all I can do, you know? I usually have to do a lot of normal stealing, I guess I’m more used to it than I thought.”
“Well congrats to you, girl,” he tapped her on her shoulder, “and good luck for the future.”
They parted ways on that. The Mad Scientist had to admit, he suddenly found himself in much higher spirits. Not only had he gotten the rage out of his system through murder, the sweetest of releases, but his encounter with the Mole had made him feel better about having to interact with that flawed, idiotic world. But then, that would happen when interacting with someone from Led By Anarchy, it was why he had affiliated himself with them.
He wondered if anyone else from LBA was participating in the Shadow Conclave…but it was inconsequential really, they were anarchists. They agreed to disagree and were individually independent to the core.
He had made it past the first round and he would make it past the second and then the final too. That was what mattered.
Curious and once more engaged in the competition, confident and certain of his success, he studied the scroll more attentively, to make out exactly who was out of the competition…and try to predict who was still in.
More importantly…he noted the place the next competition was being held with delight.
It was a beautiful city, and the Don’s home turf. Lucky old dog would make it to the final round for sure, which was good, he would be very easy to defeat when it came to the real match…in that city.