As You Were

4. There's Beauty in Rage

After the sun had gone down two men clothed head to toe in all black neared my apartment building. They moved quickly but precisely—fast enough to get the job done but just slow enough to not attract attention. The clothes they wore were casual, jeans and shirts, nothing that would make them identifiable as criminals. They each carried a bag, and in each bag were all the things they'd need for their mission. Not that they expected anything to go wrong, but in the event that something did happen they were both equipped with guns of their own. The final piece of gear that they had, black masks, were still hidden away for the time, so that they could move undetected through the people who were still out.

They wasted no time as they ducked into the building, stopping just shy of the door and applying the rest of their disguises. After they had done so they looked at each other, silently confirming with one another before running up the stairs. This was not their first job together, rather one of many throughout the years, and after all that time they had learned more about each other's minds than they knew of their own. It made them powerful, dangerous, an unstoppable force of perfect synchronization. They applied that mechanic now as they crept stealthily into the hallway, keeping an eye out for anybody who might be looking. Yet there was no one, and when they got to my apartment they did one last sweep before one of the men kicked the door in.

He did it as quietly as he could, and he was good at it. When it flew open they both ran inside, closing it the best they were able to for the time being. The first man went straight into the living room, upending the table and kicking the lamp over. He went about destroying the room before moving on to all the others. While he was seeing to that the second man ripped out all the drawers in the end table by the door, dumping them out right on floor and scooping the gun he found into a plastic bag. Once he had done that he let out a whistle, waiting until his partner came back before opening the door.

Again, another silent look was all they needed to confirm their job was completed and they left the room, running down the stairs and stopping where they had first come in, removing their masks and putting them back in their bags. Then they walked out casually, as if they were leaving home, and joined in the line of people. Simple, easy, seamless. They were professionals after all, practicing a trade that they were passionate about. As expected they encountered no trouble, and after giving each other a smug smirk they were sure that they had gotten away with it.

But they hadn't.

Because no matter how long they'd been in practice, Edward Conley had been in the game for longer. He sat in his car, taking a long drag off of his cigarette as he watched them walking. He could have searched the apartment hours ago, he could have followed them up and cornered them. Or he could stay with them now, arrest them and find out what they had in their bags. But he didn't, because he knew that if he wanted to catch a criminal, he had to think like one. So he would follow them, but not to confront them. If he did he wouldn't be able to monitor the trail they were sure to create for him. He got out of his car now, weaving through the civilians until he was a comfortable distance behind them.

In the darkness he couldn't quite make them out, a disadvantage to him. He could identify some features, but not enough to know it if he were bump into them again. For instance he could see that they were talking, but so were all the people around him. They didn't appear to be alarmed at all, no, more casual talk, this was all routine to them. Conley admired the life the criminals had—the simple code that they adhered to. Nothing was too complicated, simple payment for whatever unexplained task they were told to do. No worry, no fuss, just money. It was easy and that was what made it good to their kind, so for that he envied them. Unfortunately he deemed that they lacked any moral guidance and that was what inadvertently made them bad.