Around and around in circles the sempiternal riggers of deceit – having no beginning, no initial mark on time albeit some puncture into existence from an unknown period – a never-ending duration that looks straight into the eyes of the law.

The thief wakes up, rubs his eyes, yawns, and carries on with the ever so normal morning routines of his life on the streets. Looking out the window of his 30 story flat, the same dreary, unwashed tawny concrete envelopes his world – flats upon flats stab at his vision – there is no getting away from here, he thinks.

Making his way down the stairs, as the elevator is broken and has been like that for a number of weeks now, he steps into the bright sunlight. At first, he is blinded, rubbing his eyes once again – adjusting to his new imminent perspective.

Sneezing and coughing up phlegm, swallowing it back down into his large intestine to feast upon. The thief had one feeling – it’s going to be a good day today and I’m going to be rich, I will steal anything I can get my hands on. The thief, walking down the road, eyes sharp, centring on every detail – his vision far greater than most peoples – a childhood revolving around computer games, high tech gadgets (stolen, mostly), and other hand to eye coordination gizmos. He could comprehend a scene before it unfolded, knew when and where the person opposite him was going to look, had a thorough understanding of human behaviour. It was in him, it was a way of life. It was all he knew.

Carrying himself through the crowds of people, fitting in with passers-by, acting as any other normal member of society. Always thinking: I’m not like you, you live in your secure world with your normal routines, never stepping out of line, always in the deepest realms of the law, whereas I have no respect for the law. Live your ordinary life, in the dirt – law-abiding hypocrites.

An onlooker noticed his meagre attire, the one thing that did make him look poor, unkempt, like any other prol. Putting his chest out, nose in the air, the thief looked down upon the stranger. Must not bring attention to myself he thought. Too many cctv camera’s around nowadays – most of them don’t work or even if they did, no one cares about them – the tapes keep turning, the picture degrading, the security managers across this city sitting smoking their fags, eating their low grade food, their jobs must be hell. But I must never take that for granted.

Making sure, his toolkit was well hidden, inbetween his jeans, he could feel it banging against his thighs. Hunger crept through his body until his stomach grumbled, a sign up ahead told people to “eat here”, and he did. Going over to the eat-all-you-can-buffet, the thief tried to fill his empty stomach with as much food as possible. After thirty minutes of doing this he grew satisfactory plump, and decided to leave the establishment unnoticed. Carrying on with his journey down the road, feeling a lot better and now wide awake, he knew that the time was very near: imminent in fact.

He could see reams of bikes, scooters, mopeds, lined up, one by one – all fitting neatly together in their specially marked parking zone. Glancing at the cars further along the road, ignoring their features, their weaknesses – as these were not desired, no money in cars for me he thought. Bikes on the other hand, are full of money – parts that will fall off and can be sold, or even better unlocked bikes that can be started in a matter of seconds.

However, the thief's prying eyes were scouring the bike bays for something in particular – top end bikes which are worth more money than the older Vespa’s – their sell by date has expired, not worth the hassle the thief thought. Eyeing a Peugeot, a brand new one – couldn’t be a week old. His eyes lit up.

Waiting for the street to clear, unmasking his toolkit, placing each necessary tool in side pockets for ease of use, he started on his target. He got down to business, his aura sparkling in the light, hands moving through the air with celerity – in the space of five minutes he had the locks off and the engine started. Wasting no more time, he jumped on the bike and was at the end of the road within a heartbeat.

Racing inbetween alleys, down the side roads, keeping clear of the police - plastics, metals, the outer body of the vehicle degrades, melts, swallowing its surroundings – a cocoon quashes the thief, rays of light radiate. An unknown force flies overhead.

Glinting triangles shaping and cutting through the air, the stars dartle around, below, all over. The road spits pavement out trying to quash any attempt at superceding the inevitable movement. Shining light envelopes a percent of the blade in a magnificent silver colour, unpalatable to the eye; cries from crowds as lights twinkle: in a mercurial nature. Swiftly moving down the road, gathering pace; gathering momentum; slicing its way through metal sheets, plastics, flesh.

A rainbow takes shape; a fire hose splashes water in the sunlight - hitting the tentacles; the arms and legs of the metal string. The victim captured, body wrapped in a tight skin, taken away from his time to another place far away, where everything will begin again – the crimes that were committed – a vicious circle, which endures forever. The thief wakes up, rubs his eyes, yawns, and carries on…

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