Private Heist of the Centuries

[Gentleman Adventurer]

Blacklight. Capitol of Morrowind. One hell of a city. It was pouring rain that night, the streets even brighter than normal as the numerous neon signs were reflected in the large puddles that dotted the ground. A lone figure, dressed in white from head to toe, made his way down the sidewalk into a small shop on an out of the way street in the worst part of the city. A sign above the entrance proudly displayed it's name: Radobar's Rare Goods. The man tried the door, only to find it locked. He reached into the pockets of his white suit, retrieving a single key, which was used to open the door. As he entered, the door swung closed behind him.

The man in white coughed as he took in his current surroundings. It was a dingy, run down mess of a store. Items lay scattered about, on floors, shelves and tables. The entire room was covered in a thin veil of cigar smoke, fogging the man's vision and scratching at his lungs. A fat, middle-aged Dunmer man sat behind the counter, seemingly fast asleep. A battered old radio was on the counter next to him, playing some horribly garbled jazz music. The man stepped forward, towards the counter and the Dunmer behind it, tossing his white fedora onto a nearby hat rack.

"Fovus."

The Dunmer didn't wake.

"Fovus."

Still, nothing. The man in white sighed.

"Fovus!"

The Dunmer awoke with a start, making a noise that seemed to be halfway between a yelp and a snort. His terror subsided as he saw the face of the man in front of him. Fovus let out a deep sigh, and shifted to a more comfortable position in his chair.

"Eldric, my boy! What a pleasure it is to see you again. I was just...uh, having a little lay down before you came in. I wasn't expecting you."

Eldric looked up with a smirk. "I made an appointment with you for this exact time. Three weeks in advance."

"Oh. Well, I...I must have forgot." Fovus paused. "I suppose you'll be wanting to see the 'special inventory'...?"

"I'm never here for anything else, am I?"

"No, I suppose you're not."

Fovus picked himself out of his chair with a hearty groan, reaching into the pockets of his jeans as he did so. After a moment or two of rummaging, he pulled out a keyring. He walked over to a large metal door behind the counter, using the keys to open it. The Dunmer pushed the door open, giving a slight flourish as he bowed out of the way and let his client enter before him.

The back room was at least twice as large as the storefront, and filled to the brim with every kind of weapon imaginable. The walls were lined with rifles, machine guns, and pistols of all of shapes and sizes. Chests of swords and knives were lined up in rows, shelves stocked with ammo boxes lying directly above them.

"Just got a new shipment in from High Rock this morning, Eldric." Fovus said, closing the door behind him as he followed the sharply-dressed Nord into the room. "I think you'll like it."

"What do you have for me?"

Fovus scurried off through the stacks of weapons, leaving Eldric alone for a minute. The Nord heard a metallic click off in the distance, and soon enough Fovus hurried back, clutching a wooden box. He presented it to Eldric, who opened it. Inside was a small revolver with a white handle and seven golden bullets.

"Modified Smith & Uurwen point thirty-two pistol," Fovus explained, watching with a grin as Eldric examined the weapon. "Marble handle. Though it'd go well with your look. It's easily concealed as well."

"You know I'm a sucker for a fancy gun Fovus, but it looks a little shrimpy for my tastes."

"Trust me, it packs quite a punch."

Eldric took the pistol in hand and held it up. "May I?"

"Go right ahead."

He plucked one of the bullets from the box, loading it into the pistol's chamber. He twirled it around a bit with a smug smile, before turning to face the wall. There was a target set up there, for customers to test out their weapons. Well, the weapons that worked indoors, that was. After lining up his shot as best he could, Eldric squeezed the trigger and sent a bullet into the center of the target.

The moment the bullet hit the wall, it exploded in a small burst of flame, singing most of the target in the process. Eldric slowly turned to face Fovus, his ears still ringing from the blast's exceptionally loud noise. The Dunmer was laughing.

"Explosive ammo," Fovus said, in between chuckles. "It'll be a nasty surprise for your enemies."

"You old bastard, I love it!" Edric said, clapping him on the back. "How much for the set?"

"Fifty."

"You're kidding me."

"Marble handle and explosive ammo? That stuff ain't exactly cheap."

"Can't you give me a discount, just this once?"

Fovus shook his head. "No can do. Business isn't exactly booming around here as of late. Come on, what have you got to lose? You'll be making it all back once you rob Telvayn Manor."

"What?"

"You mean aren't going to?" The arms dealer pulled a crumpled up newspaper out of his back pocket, handing it to Eldric. "Relyn Telvayn's throwing a party, opening his home to Morrowind's rich and famous. I figured you'd be all over a chance to steal from the richest guy in the city."

"I didn't know..." Eldric said, a sly grin creeping over his face. "But I do now." He looked down at the paper. The fifteenth of Sun's Height. That was two weeks away. Good. He'd have time.

"So," Fovus said, taking the pistol from Eldric and putting in back in the box. "Do we have ourselves a deal?"

Eldric reluctantly pulled the cash out of his pocket and handed it over. "Yeah."

"Excellent!" Fovus handed the box over to Eldric, and led his customer out of the back room and into the store. They shook hands one final time, and the Nord headed back out into the rain, taking his fedora from the hat rack as he went. The door slammed shut behind him, and Fovus Radobar drifted back off into sleep.

-----------------------​

​

Eldric, the man in white, walked down the slippery streets of Blacklight, on the way back to his apartment where he would start to plan things out. It had stopped raining now, and the sun was beginning to peek over the clouds. Most of the lights had gone out by now. It was a rare moment of peace for the city. Eldric hated peace. Far too dull.​

​

Good thing he knew just the right people to help liven the place up.​

 

[Mr.Self Destruct]

Claude stood in his apartment, looking out at the city from behind his window. Drops of rain streaked across the glass, refracting the neon lights which lit up the streets in a plethora of colors. Pressed to his ear was a phone, and on the other end was his client. Some two bit conman looking to to make sure his thugs got away from the scene of a pawn shop robbery safely. Lars had referred Claude to him earlier that day, that's how it worked, if you wanted Claude to drive for you, you needed to go through Lars first. Lars would take the money, and Claude would call later that night.

"... So uh, what do you say?" The phone chirped, and for a moment Claude stood silently, his eyes fixed on the city lights below. He took a breath, then held the phone closer to his mouth and spoke. "You give me a time and a place, and I'll be there. What I give you is a five minute window, and in those five minutes I'm yours. Not a second after, or I'm gone. I don't sit it in while you're running it out, I don't carry a gun, I don't kill, I drive."

There was a brief pause on the other end, silent save for the crackling of static. "Silt Strider pawn shop, on 45th and 2nd. 12:30 tonight. Your boss has your pay." Claude hung up the phone on the dial, threw on his satin coat and headed outside.

With his hands in his pockets, he descended the stairs leading to the parking garage and made his way over to his car. The Cliff Racer GT, made by Skyforge industries. He ran his finger along the black paint job, the car smooth and sleek to the touch. As well as being an aesthetic work of art, the Cliff Racer was fast, an ideal car for a get away driver. Claude got in, revved the engine, then rolled out.

---

It was 12:30, and Claude started the countdown.

He was sitting in his car across the street from Silt Strider, chewing on a toothpick which hung from his lips. The streets were empty, nobody came out at this time, save for people like Claude and the two guys across the street rummaging around a closed pawn shop. A minute passed, and Claude looked up from behind his rain streaked window to see what was happening; nothing, as far as he could tell. All he could see of the building was the glowing neon sign which spelled out Silt Strider gold and pawn, its red lights flickering in the rain.

Another minute passed, and Claude turned on the police scanner built into his car's radio. Nothing at the moment, aside from some dreary police officer muttering about a few shady characters loitering somewhere far off in Blacklight. He glanced around, his heart thumping in his chest, he chewed the toothpick harder and gripped the steering wheel. Four minutes now, and suddenly the police scanner came abuzz with reports of a tripped alarm in a pawn shop. Claude tossed the toothpick aside and put the car into drive, his foot ready to floor it.

Two men wearing black ski masks busted through the pawn shop's door, between the two of them four duffle bags crammed with stolen cash. They glanced around for a moment, before seeing Claude's car and breaking into a sprint towards it. Claude opened the passenger side door on their side, and moved the seat up so they could get in the back. The two men practically threw themselves inside, and Claude slammed the door behind them and floored it.

They drove without saying a word, the only noise in the car being the two's heavy breaths and the buzz of the police scanner. "Officer on site, eh.. whoever was here is gone. How copy--" Claude shut off the radio, secretly disappointed that tonight wouldn't end in a chase. He kept his feelings to himself, however, it'd be bad for business if he let it slip that he liked eluding the police. "Where to?" Claude asked, driving cautiously along the empty city roads. "Take us up to Aventino's, the restaurant on Imperial way. Boss owns the place."

---

Claude got home late that night, it was about 2 in the morning when he pulled into the garage. He locked his car door, then headed up the stairs to his apartment. Claude stepped inside, locking the door behind him before flipping on the light switch. On the kitchen table was a small backpack, and a note; Lars had been by to drop off the cash while Claude had been gone.

Claude walked over, picking up the note, scrawled on a piece of parchment.

Old client, Fitzroy, wants to talk business, give him a call. -L
Beneath the note was the phone number.

Claude sat down at the table and pulled up the phone, dialing the number in and holding the phone to his ear.

"...You wanted to talk?"

 

[Farthlion]

Kjan particularly enjoyed jobs where she left her shop. The rush and thrill she got from knowing that the thieves she accompanied had a set time limit before cops would show up always made her day more fun. Not to mention these jobs usually had tougher safes to crack, and Kjan loved a challenge where she'd have to use her drills.

Unfortunately, this was not one of those challenges. A group of thugs had brought in a large, steel safe into her shop. Kjan had been working on repairing one of her drills when they arrived through the back door, or the entrance that most of the criminals preferred. Two men worked together to carry the locked up box, several others accompanying them. Kjan eyed the group of regulars as they approached her, one of the thugs complaining about the weight of the object.

“We’ll pay you your usual fee. Open it,” an Imperial with a rough voice ordered.

Kjan, understanding she could make a little more money continued to work on her drill, “I’d like double.”

She fought back a grin as the Imperial seemed to pulse with anger. While the thought did cross her mind that they could be physically intimidating, Kjan knew that they wouldn’t dare do anything to harm her. They needed her to open these things. There wasn’t another soul in Blacklight who could crack a safe as quickly as she could. She had the upper hand here.

“How about we add a couple of nice gems for you?”

Kjan’s eyes narrowed, “No. Do I look like a girl who has any adoration for jewelry? I want double the coin. Get out of my shop if you aren’t going to pay.”

Several of the men groaned as the thought of lifting the safe back into their automobile crossed their minds. The Imperial gave in, “Fine. Open it. Now.”

The locksmith obliged, heading toward the safe. It was beaten up pretty badly, but the steel was holding strong and not showing any signs of giving way. Kjan fumed, “Did you assholes shoot this thing?” Everyone so often an idiot would attempt to shoot their way into a safe and then, realizing it was futile to do so, decide to take it to her. This frustrated the hell out of Kjan. It was quite easy to break the lock that way, thus causing the contents to be unreachable. Luckily, it seemed this one managed to stay intact.

The Imperial from earlier glared at one of his group members, probably the instigator of the shooting. Kjan clenched her jaw and attempted to find some type of identifying mark for the metal box. An almost unreadable silver “SB450” was located on the top corner, near the hinges of the box. It was a Silverblood 450, a simple safe to crack if you had the right information. Luckily Kjan knew a couple guys who worked in Markarth where they made the things. Each of the 450 models were previously set with the same factory combination, and most of the buyers rarely every changed said combination.

Kjan went to work, twisting the dial fluidly as if it was a well-rehearsed movement. With a smile, she recognized the familiar feel of all of the wheels lining up, and the door to the safe clicking to open. Too easy.

The men swarmed the safe as she stepped back, all anxious to view its contents. The Imperial grabbed something from the container and threw it to the locksmith. Money. Kjan nodded as she began to count her payment, leaving to return to her own business as the men shuffled out with their newly found riches. It was customary that clients leave the safes in her shop. Kjan profited by using them to both study their design, and to sell them. The real irony of her business was that most of her non-criminal customers were the ones who just had their safes stolen and taken to her to crack.

It was later that night when the phone rang. Kjan was still up and working on modifying a small lock design when she heard the familiar ring. The first thing she had done when moving into the building was install a phone. It was luxury that cost the locksmith a fortune, but it paid off in the end. Most of her shadier clients preferred to contact her by telephone rather than risk coming into the shop and being seen.

Kjan set down her tools and picked up machine, “Blacklight Locks,” she began, using her shop name as a cover for her operations in case it was a legitimate customer. Not that it was likely at this time of night , “Need something?”

The locksmith grinned as she heard Eldric’s familiar voice answer. This ought to be good.

 

[Rextoret]

Rain pattered on the windows outside of the used car dealership. The moon was high in the sky, and the sounds of footsteps had all but abandoned the streets. A small wind chime was slowing clinking together outside, filling the air with the sound of the small bits of metal bouncing off of one another. Inside, a rather new gramophone played jazz music off of a record that slowly spun around. The music seemed to echo through the store, bouncing around before finally entering the ears of the young woman who stood at the counter, casually reading a fashion magazine. Behind her, was a door that was labeled with an "Employees Only" sign.

The front door opened, sending a gale of fresh air into the shop. The sound of leather shoes hitting the floor filled the air. The woman looked up. A man wearing a black trench coat walked in with a large bag in hand, slowly removing his fedora from his head. Long, curly locks of raven black hair fell out. From underneath, one could see deep black eyes. Looking into them, one could imagine looking down into a never ending hole, filled only with darkness. The skin that bordered them was a sharp contrast, a blinding white, with a slight amount of yellow within it. The woman called out to him.

"Oh! Welcome home, Shi!" The man sighed, pulling his arms out of the sleeves of the trench coat. "Izumi, it's Kiyoshi. I can't even remember how many times I've told you to stop calling me by that nickname. It's bad enough we're stuck with these odd names in the first place. I don't need you calling me something that sounds more akin to the name of a child's teddy bear than an actual person's name."

"Yes, yes. Anyway, how did the job go? I hope you brought something nice for me." Kiyoshi hung his fedora and trench coat on a hanger outside of the Employee door. He put the bag down on the counter, undoing the string that was tied around the top. "The client wanted me to grab a small figurine, one of Diabella, I think it was. Why she wanted something like that, I've got no clue. She was extremely adamant that I not get so much as a scratch on it. Odd woman, I'm telling you." Kiyoshi got the string off, revealing what was inside. The bag was filled with money, with a few miscellaneous items scattered about inside. "Of course, I grabbed a few things besides the target item. Oh yeah, and this." He reached into his pocket, pulling out a beautifully made golden necklace. A small dragon hung from it, with tiny ruby eyes. He placed it into her hands.

Izumi held it up, marveling at the exquisite detailing on it. She placed it around her neck, slipping the dragon underneath the neck of her blouse. "Well, they're certainly going to miss this. I just hope you didn't make any mistakes." She smiled a bit, before embracing Kiyoshi in a tight hug. "Thanks! You're always so nice to me." Kiyoshi sighed, before replying with a tired voice. "Yeah, yeah. Now get off, I'm going to go take a shower." She reluctantly let go. "Alright. I'll see you soon then." Kiyoshi headed for the "Employees Only" door.

Behind the door was a rather large room, part storage and part bedroom. A small door on the right side led to a bathroom. Kiyoshi walked over to the large drawer that stood next to the king size bed that was pushed against the wall. He grabbed his nightwear from the bottom drawer, before heading for the bathroom door.

---​

​

Kiyoshi pushed open the door and stepped out into the room. He was now adorned in a set of all black pajamas, with his hair slicked back, pushed out of his face. He walked to the bed, sitting down with a thud. A ringing sound filled the room. Izumi's voice could be faintly heard through the door to the main room. "Kiyoshi, could you get that?" He stood up and grabbed the phone off of the machine on the wall. "Yeah, I got it!" He lifted the phone to his ear. "Hello, this is the Wakahisa Used Car Dealership. Kiyoshi speaking. How can I help you tonight?" A familiar voice drifted into his ear. He smiled, recognizing the voice instantly. 'Eldric.'​

 

[Skyrimosity]

Thomas had been following his target for an hour now, carefully observing his movements and if he was suspicious. The man had no idea Thomas was waiting for the opportune moment to strike. Thus far, he has not moved out of the public eye. But Thomas had patience enough.

It occurred to him that Thomas didn't know why the man was wanted dead. Hired killers are never supposed to ask questions about the mark from the employer. It was bad if they thought it mattered to you. And honestly it didn't bother Thomas why he was killing this man. Sometimes he would wonder but in the end he didn't care. Business was business.

Finally the man went to his house. It was an uneventful, one story house. The man went inside and Thomas waited a few minutes before looking in through the window. He was asleep. Thomas snuck around to the backdoor where few people were watching and carefully picked the lock. A few seconds and he was quickly in.

Thomas stealthily approached the sleeping man. He pulled his knife out of his pocket and got closer and closer. Finally, when he was close enough, he quickly slashed the man's throat. He was dead without much of a sound. Thomas left the scene without looking like anything had happened. No one had seen him go in or leave, thankfully.

For this job, Thomas had been paid in advance. It was something he requested for the easy jobs like this had been. As such, Thomas found his car, which took a long enough walk. He was glad to get back to his apartment.

Thomas easily had enough money to buy a house but found that an apartment was better to keep anonymity. His neighbors liked him and Thomas often visited, just to ensure they would never suspect something.

After some time had passed, the phone rang. He assumed it was just another job, but was surprised to hear the voice on the other end. "Eldric? Haven't heard from you in a while."

 

[The OP3RaT0R]

"Nick! How good to see you!"

Alain turned to see a beautiful Altmer woman standing a few feet away, a glass of champagne in her delicate grip. She wore a sequined black cocktail dress, which nicely accented her yellow skin and matched her flowing jet black hair. "Calia! This is your party, isn't it?" He joked. "I have missed your wit since I saw you at that get-together a few months ago," the host said. "Come, join me for a drink?"

Ever since he had come to Blacklight, Alain Ancharia had been conning his way into high-class homes in order to get access to the valuables within. He had begun to develop a reputation as Nick Arria, a young socialite who had relocated all the way from Cyrodiil. Nick was modest - by Alain's design, too modest, in order to add to the invented persona an air of being grounded, to convey that Nick was real and had something to be modest about. He had knocked off a few houses by the night of Calia's party, and it looked as though her residence might be the endgame for the person of Nick. The Altmer had told Alain of a particular favorite antique of hers, an old platinum and diamond circlet, and tonight Alain expected he would make that his. Such a shame, he thought. I have had such fun as Nick.

The party had been going for a while, having started when it was already late at night, and this was the first contact Alain had had with Calia. 'Nick' accepted a drink from Calia, but while she kept drinking he set his limit at one. They small-talked and Calia began to open up to him, until the subject of that favorite circlet came around. "If you'd like to see it, I can show you; just ask Erasmir," the woman said before downing her drink. "If you'd just take a moment before coming in, that would be good. I'll be waiting." As she headed up the stairs, she stopped and said something to the distinguished-looking butler who stood nearby. He nodded, and Calia continued up.

Alain obliged, and after a moment he went to ask Erasmir where he would find Calia and the circlet. "Second door on the left," Erasmir said. Alain nodded as he headed up the stairs and found the room in question; he vaguely heard what sounded like the elven butler coaxing the other guests to be on their ways out. He knocked before pushing open the door and finding himself in a dimly-lit master bedroom. Well, I did not see this coming.

Calia still wore her dress, but it seemed looser somehow. "Sorry to make you wait, it's been a long night, and I needed to freshen up. Here it is," the Altmer said, gesturing to the gleaming piece of jewelry that sat on a stand atop a dresser, across from the king-sized bed. "I keep it in here because I like to see it all the time. It's like a baby to me almost," she giggled. That window to the right looks like my best way out of here, Alain thought with calm haste. The problem is, how do I get away with the circlet?

"Would you like to see me wear it?" 'Nick' gave a subdued smile and nodded, hoping just to humor Calia. She picked up the delicate piece of fine craftsmanship and placed it on her head, and in a single motion she slid out of her slinky dress as her arms came down. Now THIS I did not see coming. Alain bit his lip. Imperceptible to Calia, Alain said to himself, "There will be other jewelry collections."

The next day, after leaving Calia's home and returning to the nearby Guild safehouse, Alain recieved a phone call. "Yes?... Oh, Mr. Fitzroy, of course... Yes, I'd be interested. You paid quite well the last time I was in your employ... Absolutely. I look forward to finally meeting you in person."

 

[Delusional]

Moonlight streamed through the tiny, solitary window in the dank storage space, a luminescent glow cast upon the workbenches and machinery that littered the interior of the rented-out garage. Parts were scattered everywhere, half-built devices left for another day's work. A single mattress, supported by a flimsy rusted iron frame, was tucked away in the corner of the space, where a man, grease-stained and filthy, slept restlessly.

Suddenly, he woke with a scream. Abruptly, he sat up from his mattress, reaching a hand to wipe the cold sweat from his brow. Breathing heavily, he rose from the bed and stumbled across the garage, wrapping his hands around a pair of eyeglasses. After putting his beat-up pair of glasses on, he reached for the light switch, and flicked it up. A single light bulb flickered on, hanging from the dilapidated ceiling by a single copper wire.

The man muttered, his words unintelligible as he tripped across the floor of his simple abode, his head throbbing profusely. He began rummaging through a pile of junk, looking for a vial of pills; medication for his delusions. His search was interrupted by a loud knock on the garage door that was the only entrance into his living quarters.

Sighing, he started back to his mattress to retrieve some clothing to put on over his undergarments.

"Hey, Mason! Open up!" The voice was muffled by the thick concrete walls of the garage, but the tired man still recognized the man behind the door.

"Hold on!" he shouted, shrugging his pants on and throwing a button up shirt over his shoulders. He approached the garage door, grabbed a chain that hung loosely against the wall and began to pull it down. A deafening noise resulted, and Mason cringed as he watched the corrugated iron garage door slowly raise. He hated that noise.

"Hey there buddy," a man said as he ducked underneath the garage door. He was dressed in a black pinstripe suit, and had just taken a fedora off his head. A cigar hung loosely out of his mouth, and he took a quick drag before speaking.

"Mason, we need some more goods. You make the finest and most destructive stuff, and we can't get enough." He smiled and leaned up against the decrepit concrete wall, inviting a response from the fatigued engineer.

"Hmm, well, I'm still, well, recuperating from your, eh, other orders..." Mason replied, scratching his neck nervously as he always did--a nervous tick he had, one of the many that resulted from his anxiety disorder.

"Oh, yeah, that's right. Well, I'll come back later then. have a nice night, Mason!" The man grinned as he ducked back under the garage door and strolled off into the rainy night.

Mason sighed deeply while lowering the garage door. He turned to his workbenches, and began mindlessly fiddling with a half-completed device, muttering under his breath occasionally.

Several hours later, Mason stepped back from the worktable, breathing a sigh of relief. He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. He had just completed a new bomb design; one that would provide a much larger explosion than the explosive devices he had been creating earlier.

Mason was about to return to bed, hoping the hand work had taken his mind from his night hallucinations. However, right as he was about to turn the flickering bulb off and return to his mattress, he heard a knock on the corrugated iron.

It was not the same sound as before, no, it was much different. Mason's head began racing, and in turn, worrying. In a nervous, shaky voice, the anxious mechanic called out.

"H... hello? Who... is it?"

 

[Gentleman Adventurer]

Eldric wrinkled his nose as he walked a dingy, out of the way path. Claude, Kjan, Kiyoshi, Thomas and Alain had all agreed with little to no persuasion required. They all knew that his jobs usually paid off very well for those involved, given their past together. He had planned to reunite the entire gang, but their demolitions expert, a Khajiit named Jo'Raas, had been shot dead when he tried to rob the Tribunal bank by himself. Damned cat always was too cocky for his own good. And that was why Eldric was walking, in the middle of the night, down a road that smelled of dead fish and stale booze. From what he'd heard, the guy who lived around here was a freak, but one who'd get the job done. The latter was really all Eldric cared about when it came to potential allies.

Up ahead he spotted a rusty old garage. That was he'd been told he'd find his new gadgeteer. The Nord walked briskly up to the large metal door, knocking several times in order to capture the attention of it's occupant. After a few seconds of complete silence save for the rain hitting the ground, he heard a squeaky, quivering voice answer from the other side of the door.

"H... hello? Who... is it?"

"Someone who wishes to hire you, Mason. I promise you it'll be worth your time if you let me in."

 

[Delusional]

"Someone who wishes to hire you, Mason. I promise you it'll be worth your time if you let me in," the voice responded, full of confidence. Mason reached a hand behind his neck and began to scratch, solicitude consuming him.

"Uh... alright, just... one... one minute, please!" he stammered as he started towards the garage door, anxiously glancing around his garage. He tripped over several mechanical components, grabbing a workbench for support to prevent him from falling, but in turn he sent a cluttered pile of metal clattering to the floor. Mason winced as he steadied himself on the workbench and carefully stepped over his machinery.

Mason reached the garage door and grabbed the chain. His hands were clammy; he found it hard to grip the chain properly. Fumbling with the metal links, the worried mechanist finally got a hold of the chain and began to jerk it downwards, slowly raising the rusted iron garage door.

Eventually, the door was fully opened, and Mason stared at the man who stood before him. He was a slim, middle-aged Nord, with mid-length white hair sneaking out past a white fedora. He wore a white business suit, which was damp from the outside rain. His blue eyes seemed to bore right into Mason's skull, or at least that's what he thought. Scratching his neck again, he stepped back and looked at the ground.

"So... uh, what do you need?"

 

[Gentleman Adventurer]

This guy was an odd little creep of a man, just as Eldric's sources had told him. He hoped he didn't have to talk to him much after he was finished hiring him. Brushing past Mason, he stepped into the garage, which looked even dingier on the inside than it did on the outside. Half-finished machines were strewn all over the place, it was a wonder Mason hadn't tripped and broken his neck yet. Eldric took his fedora off, letting it dry in the dank air.

"So... uh, what do you need?" Mason said, his voice nervous. Something told Eldric he was always like this.

"I want to talk to you about a job," Eldric said, a smirk upon his face. It was quite evident that he hadn't lost any confidence, even after his unpleasant journey to Mason's residence. "I'm looking to rob Relyn Telvayn of all his most valuable possessions. I have a group put together already, but we need someone who's good with explosives." He glanced at what appeared to be a pile of half-finished pipe bombs lying in the corner of the room. "I'm thinking that you probably fit the bill."

 

[Delusional]

The man strode past Mason, speaking with an air of confidence as he examined the meager living space of the apprehensive engineer. The Imperial stood motionless, watching the man nervously.

"I'm looking to rob Relyn Telvayn of all his most valuable possessions. I have a group put together already, but we need someone who's good with explosives. I'm thinking that you probably fit the bill." Mason's eyes widened. He was being asked to join a group of criminals?

No, no no no no, I can't do this... Mason's mind raced with worry and fear. Join a team? But... that means other people... oh no, and outside... The engineer began to pace back and forth anxiously, weaving in and out of discarded scrap metal that was scattered across the concrete floor; running his right hand through his unkempt mess of brown hair.

"Uh, would I have to, well, go outside if I accepted?" Mason stopped pacing, and stared at the white-haired Nord before continuing. "And, uh, would I have to be around people?"

 

[Gentleman Adventurer]

Eldric said nothing at first, instead raising an eyebrow as he stared at the madman in front of him. "Yes," He said, speaking somewhat cautiously; the last thing he wanted was to scare the guy with a room full of explosives. "You would have to go outside and be around people. Not for long, though. You'd around for the planning sessions, then for one or two heists. During the heists, you can break away from the crowds."

He tentatively picked a broken and rusted machine up off the ground, inspecting it in a nonchalant manner. "I swear on my honor, you'll make enough money to retire with this one job. You'll never even have to look at a person again, if that's what you want."

 

[Delusional]

"Hmm..." Mason rested his palms against one of his workbenches, thinking. He slid his cheap eyeglasses off his head momentarily to rub his eyes before placing the spectacles back over the bridge of his nose. His eyes fixated on a functional time bomb that was laying on the steel work surface, his mind deep in thought.

I'll never have to look at a person again... I could be alone, and tinker with my machines... And the money, too... all the parts I could buy...

Mason looked up from the intricate explosive on the workbench and gazed right into the suited man's light blue eyes as he stood there, awaiting a response from the half-mad engineer.

"I'll...I'll do it."

 

[Gentleman Adventurer]

"I'll...I'll do it."

Eldric nodded, watching Mason's eyes from behind the other man's grimy spectacles. The Nord shook hands with his newest ally, doing his best to keep a smile on his face. The moment Mason turned his back, he wiped the grease from his hands using a silver handkerchief withdrawn from his breast pocket. He looked around the room, and couldn't find what he was looking for.

"Um...would you happen to have a telephone here? I'd very much like to call a cab back to my apartment, rather than continuing to walk in the rain."

 

[Delusional]

"Um...would you happen to have a telephone here? I'd very much like to call a cab back to my apartment, rather than continuing to walk in the rain." Mason twitched, and scratched his neck once again, knowing the answer to that question, a prospect that unnerved the mechanist.

"Uh, well..." He paused, staring at the ground, avoiding eye contact with the soon-to-be-irritated mobster. "No, I don't."

 

[Gentleman Adventurer]

Eldric sighed, disappointed but not surprised. "Very well," He said, flatly. "Tomorrow at midnight, you are to come to my apartment. Here is the address." He produced a small piece of paper and handed it to Mason, hoping it wouldn't get stained. "There you will get a chance to meet the other member of my gang, and we will discuss our plans for the upcoming heist. In the event that you fail to show up, I feel that it is my duty to inform you that we do, in fact, have a paid assassin in our employ. Make of that what you will."

With that, he put his fedora on once more and headed out of the garage, back into the rain-slicked streets of Blacklight. He really wished he had a car.

 

[Farthlion]

Kjan looked at the room of guests Eldric had managed to assemble. There were a couple who looked professional, another who she pegged as mentally unstable, and one or two she thought were most definitely lost. There were more people than she expected, and that meant that there would be more money divided up.

The locksmith had dressed as she usually would, wearing a blue hand-me-down collared shirt and a skirt that fell to her knees. It wasn't fancy, but it was comfortable and allowed her to blend in enough to the usual fashion of Blacklight.

She had packed a large suitcase full of lists of combinations, drills, and other instruments to aid her in possible jobs (in case Eldric expected her to open something upon arrival), and was now leaning against the wall of Eldric's apartment, the suitcase resting at her feet. The locksmith nudged it with her foot, purely out of habit, before talking, "So what's the deal, Eldric? I know what these guys are thinking. There are a lot of us, and even a big job doesn't exactly divide into a big payout," she paused, glancing around the room, "What are you planning?" While he may have told the others the details of whatever operation they were expected to carry out, all the Nord had told Kjan was there would be big money involved.

 

[Mr.Self Destruct]

Claude had reluctantly agreed to drive for Eldric, for some time now he had been considering leaving Blacklight; moving on from driving for criminals and starting up again somewhere else. Doing things right this time, maybe getting a job as a stunt racer like he had wanted to as a child. But the promise of one more job, one more stint to go out with a bang, even Claude couldn't resist. He was told to head to Eldric's apartment at midnight, given an address, and promised a large payday. Claude planned on stopping by Lars' shop first, he had promised him a car to chop and he figured he should talk to him about Fitzroy anyway.

Claude headed out, hands in his pockets and his head low as he walked along the rain slicked sidewalk. He was in a bad part of town, the sort of place you'd lock the car doors as you'd drive through. He passed by a cluster of boarded up buildings, where a group of vagrants were gathered around a barrel fire, a typical sight here in Blacklight's underworld.

He was on the lookout for cars, something Lars would want and could chop and make a profit selling the parts. He passed by the old junkers which were parked along the curb without as much as a glance, they weren't worth stealing. What he was really after were the cars belonging to the wannabe wiseguys that hung around the bars and pubs, two-bit guidos with more hair gel then smarts. They were hot headed, big mouthed cons who loved their cars almost as much as they loved themselves. Claude was more then willing to part them from their beloved automobiles and have them chopped into scrap.

That's when he saw them, flashy sports cars parked up ahead, sitting in the green glow of a neon bar sign. Claude glanced around, saw nobody, then jogged over to the car as he pulled his slim jimming tool from his jacket. He made his way over to the driver side door of a Mede co. Mako, a flashy four door with a silver paint job, and gently forced the lockpick through the small gap between the door and the window. He carefully maneuvered the slim jim until the lock gave a subtle click, and the door popped open.

Claude got inside, hotwiring the car with relative ease, then peeled off towards Hartigan auto repair.

---

Lars Hartigan was a shrewd, skinny little man who wore a pair of spectacles and walked with a limp; a result of a car crash ten years ago which had broken his pelvis. Claude pulled into Lars' dingy little garage of a chop shop acting as an automobile repair shop to find Lars hovering over an engine block, working hard by the looks of it. "Ah, see you brought me one of those Makos." Lars remarked, not looking up from his work. "Take it from one of 'em wiseguys?" "Yeah." Claude set the slim jim on Lars' table before folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the wall. "How'd it go last night?" "Easy enough, in and out before the cops showed up." "Ah, that's no fun." Lars jested, knowing how much Claude loved the chase. "So, Fitzroy wants to work again."

Lars set down his tools and swiveled around in his chair, looking up at Claude with a face stained with oil and soot. "Yeah he walked in here the other day, asked if you were still working. Wanted to know if you were up for a job." He said as he pulled off his gloves and slapped them down on the table, wiping away the sweat on his brow. "Did ya' take the job?" Lars asked, raising an eyebrow. "I'm headed over tonight, I'm going to need a car." Claude said, wanting to bring up the fact he was considering leaving the business behind but stopping himself short.

"Yeah, well, I'll have the boys take apart the car you brought me. Thanks for that, by the way." Lars remarked as he stood from his seat and began hobbling over to the other end of the garage, where rows of cars; some modest, others flashy and exotic, were stored. "Take the Dovah, she's collecting dust." Lars said as he rummaged around in his pocket for a moment before tossing Claude the keys to the Dovah, a classy and sleek two door sportscar with a navy blue paintjob complemented by a white racing stripe. Claude gave Lars a nod, before hopping in and heading over to Eldric's apartment.
---

He arrived early, but already most of the old gang was there. People Claude really didn't know too well, in the old days he'd just drive for them. Still he recognized their faces, and some of them he knew enough of to peg as being unstable and dangerous. He had dressed as he usually did, wearing his white satin coat, a pair of dark jeans, and from his mouth hung his token toothpick. For the moment he kept to himself, watching over Eldric's group with wary eyes.
"So what's the deal, Eldric? I know what these guys are thinking. There are a lot of us, and even a big job doesn't exactly divide." Remarked a girl dressed in modest clothing, Claude thought he remembered her being the locksmith and safecracker of the group, though he wasn't sure.

 

[Gentleman Adventurer]

Eldric surveyed the room, straightening the tie of his now considerably dryer suit. They didn't exactly look like an elite team of thieves. This, of course, was intentional. A group of Khajiit and Bosmer walking into Relyn Telvayn's party was bound to raise a few eyebrows. He'd have to do something about Mason, though. Perhaps a colorful tuxedo and a shower would do the trick. He doubted it.

Kjan, their resident safe-cracker, was leaning against the wall, next to several suitcases that were no doubt filled the tools of her trade. As he entered the room, she looked up and managed to catch his eye. Not in a good way, however. Oh no, it was look of displeasure on her face that drew his gaze. "So what's the deal, Eldric? I know what these guys are thinking. There are a lot of us, and even a big job doesn't exactly divide into a big payout," She said, her tone quizzical. It was a valid question, that much Eldric would admit. Then again, did she really think he wasn't going to explain himself? "What are you planning?"

He cleared his throat, preparing to address the group as a whole in response to Kjan's query. He threw a few grainy photographs onto a coffee table in the center of the room, pointing to them. "That is Telvayn Manor," He said, beginning to what little space he had as he talked. "Home to Relyn Telvayn, the richest bastard in all of Morrowind. He's not exactly one to fraternize with the lower classes, so most people don't even know what he looks like. What they do know, however, is that he keeps all of his most valuable possessions in a vault beneath his home. This is backed up by the fact that Telvayn Manor has security that makes the Tribunal High Temple look like a daycare center. No one's allowed in. At least, that's usually the case. Once every few years, the good Mr. Telvayn decides throw an extravagant

There was a pause, and Eldric reached into his suit's pocket, withdrawing a stack of six sealed invitations. "And this time, we're going to be attending. I hope everyone here owns a nice suit. Or, in Kjan's case, a dress. If you don't, I'll be happy to set you up with one." He shot a knowing look at Mason. "Now, then. I'll take your questions, then move on to the plan. It's one my best, If I do say so myself. And trust me when I say that the Telvayn vault will have more than enough riches to go around." He grinned.

 

[The OP3RaT0R]

Alain was at Eldric's apartment at twelve sharp, dressed in a fine black suit with a crisp white button-up shirt underneath, and a blood-red tie tight around his neck. He had been pursuing an independent job earlier that day, and as was his habit, he often liked to stay in disguise or even in character the whole day. That evening, he had dined with Crecious Blackfoot, an old Nordic pensioner with an eye for ancient Nordic sculpture; the wealthy old man had heard so much about the young Nick Arria, and
"simply had to meet the young man who, rumor is, has a similar taste in art."

"You heard correctly, Mr. Blackfoot," Alain had said from across a table at the fine uptown restaurant named simply Skaal, which served a contemporary fusion of rustic Nordic and Dunmer cuisine. "I am particularly fond of the work of Torvald Stone-Pick." In truth, Alain had a similar taste in anything and everything, in common with everyone he met. It was all a part of the con.

Crecious' eyes lit up. "You have seen his earlier works, then?"

"Only in pictures, Mr. Blackfoot."

"Please, call me Crecious! My accountant calls me Mr. Blackfoot, and you have more brain in you than that man if you can appreciate the work of Torvald Stone-Pick! Speaking of, his early works - I happen to have one of his earliest creations in my collection."

"No! Really?"

"Ah, but I do, I do! Tell me, how would you like to see an early standing stone by the man himself?"


Alain took a sip of his wine, and in his best voice of faux awe, he said, "Crecious, I cannot say how I would like to - because I do not know I could put into words how honored I would be."

"Well, my friend, I'd say you did a fine job right there!" Alain laughed along with the Nord. "We've both eaten our fill; what say you and I head for my collection?" The two men stood up and began to collect themselves.

"Why, I'd-" The Imperial glanced at his wristwatch and feigned a look of being crestfallen. With a sad smile he said, "I'd love to, but I have just recalled that I have a previous engagement scheduled for not far in the near future. I truly am sorry, sir."

"No need to apologize Nick, I understand when you'd rather meet a lady than look at an old codger's art collection." The old man winked and patted Alain on the back.

"A lady? No! This is strictly business, rest assured. And what's this talk about an 'old codger', hm? Why sir, you don't look a day over fifty!" In hindsight, Alain thought to himself that he would be seeing a lady soon enough; his old mistress, the Septim.

"Ah, you flatter me too much!" Crecious said. "You'll see my collection some other time, of course?"

"Absolutely! Have a good night, Crecious." The men shook hands and were on their way, Crecious departing with his driver and Alain running off into the night. This was what brought him to the doorstep of Eldric Fitzroy at twelve sharp. The Imperial knocked, snapped the wrinkles from his suit, and entered. The motley crew was gathered around a room in Eldric's apartment, waiting to begin; Alain spoke up, joking, "Am I overdressed, or are you all underdressed?" The group, obviously there for money and money only, ignored this. One or two more members entered soon after Alain, and it was a young Nord woman who opened up the meeting. "So what's the deal, Eldric? I know what these guys are thinking. There are a lot of us, and even a big job doesn't exactly divide into a big payout. What are you planning?"

"That is Telvayn Manor," the white-suited man said as he tossed a few photos onto the table. "Home to Relyn Telvayn, the richest bastard in all of Morrowind. He's not exactly one to fraternize with the lower classes, so most people don't even know what he looks like. What they do know, however, is that he keeps all of his most valuable possessions in a vault beneath his home. This is backed up by the fact that Telvayn Manor has security that makes the Tribunal High Temple look like a daycare center. No one's allowed in. At least, that's usually the case. Once every few years, the good Mr. Telvayn decides throw an extravagant party." There was a pause before Eldric went on. "And this time, we're going to be attending. I hope everyone here owns a nice suit. Or, in Kjan's case, a dress. If you don't, I'll be happy to set you up with one. Now, then. I'll take your questions, then move on to the plan. It's one of my best, If I do say so myself. And trust me when I say that the Telvayn vault will have more than enough riches to go around."

"What's our timeframe here?" Alain asked. He was thrilled at the prospect of such a huge heist, but he still hoped to keep on pulling some lesser ones, especially before this one, which threatened to expose him to the high society people he had built a fake reputation with since he came to Blacklight.