Rym- Episode 1 (Season 1): Bank Robbery

Location: 933 Castor Rd; Lucas City, Archenon [Revised]

A large crash rang throughout the hallway, harshly disturbing the silence that had been lingering in the apartment. "What was that?" a gravelly female voice yelled.

A woman, approximately in her forties, walked into the hall with heavy and frustrated steps. She had brunette brown hair that reached only to her shoulders, and was beginning to turn grey at the roots. At the opposite end of the hallway, the head of another woman appeared from behind the doorway. Her silver hair was pulled into a messy bun, held together with a pink ribbon. Despite the color of her hair, her face bore no signs of old age.

"You wouldn't have had any particular value to a round, glass vase, would you?" the woman with silver hair asked in a worried tone of voice.

"Oh, of course not," the older woman growled as she approached. "Why would a three-hundred year old family antique have any value whatsoever?"

"Georgia, calm down," the younger woman said in a voice that sounded as though she was attempting to calm down herself, "I'll be able to fix it." Georgia walked past her, and looked down at the bits of broken glass that were scattered across the wooden floor.

"Alright," Georgia began in an abrasive tone, "then could you please explain to me how exactly you plan on doing that?" The younger woman scanned the bits of glass, and realization struck her that it was unrepairable.

"Okay," she began, as Georgia went to the closet on the nearest wall and pulled out a broom, "well, I, uh-"

"No," Georgia interrupted. She forcefully shoved the broom into the younger woman's raised hands. "You're going to do this instead; clean up, pack up, and ship out." She raised a stiff hand above her head. "I've had it up to here." Georgia walked back through the doorway, agitated, and disappeared into a room on the other end of the hall, leaving the younger woman flabbergasted.

"What?" she finally asked, with a voice that matched her expression. "You're kicking me out?" The woman didn't move from where she was standing, waiting for a brief second of what her landlady's reply would be.

"What exactly were you expecting?" Georgia retorted in a shout from the distant room.

The younger woman had been staying with Georgia Barsalow for just over two years, following her sudden arrival into the city. Seeing how Georgia was in need of money, she didn't require any background information from the young woman. This was a factor of luck for her, simply because she had no recorded background. That, however, didn't concern the landlady; the young woman was kind enough at that time. Though became more troublesome after a couple of months.

"I think this is a little too much consequence for breaking a vase, don't you agree?" The young woman dropped the broom that her landlady had "handed" her, and approached the far end of the hall.

"I'm kicking you out because this is the fourth time," Georgia uttered aggressively, reappearing suddenly, and stopping the young woman in her tracks.

"For what?" the woman demanded.

"For screwing up."

"When else have I screwed up?" the woman questioned persistently.

Georgia quickly held up her hand. "Blowing up the refrigerator," she flicked her pointer finger forward.

"Well you see-" the woman began before being interrupted.

"Stuffing the apartment with balloons..." the landlady flicked up a second finger.

"Oh, but that was hilarious!" the woman said with a faint laugh. "You should've seen your face!"

A third finger appeared. "How about hosting the most destructive Valentine's Day party of the millenium?" To this, the younger woman stiffened her pointer finger, and held it near Georgia's face.

"That was the best party you've ever expirienced, and you know it," she said, lowering her hand. "And I'm one to believe that Valentine's Day isn't as respected as it should be."

Georgia gazed irritatedly into the woman's eyes. "I don't know what I was thinking when I let you into my home in the first place," she said gravely. She turned sharply and walked back into the room. Not following her, the strength that the younger woman had in her expression began to fade, and she looked desolate.

The landlady returned after a moment to the young woman, who hadn't moved so much as an inch from where she was standing, and was clutching the handle of a small, dark magenta suitcase. She didn't say it, but Georgia had gone into the young woman's bedroom and gathered the few belongings that she had and stuffed them into the case carelessly; and even though she had not said it, the young woman had assumed correctly. Georgia held up the suitcase, and the young woman, with a solemn face, took the case from her landlady's grip.

The younger woman turned to her left, and stepped quietly towards the front door of the apartment. Georgia followed a couple paces behind her, with her arms exhaustedly crossed over her chest. The young woman opened the door, without uttering another word of protest, and stepped out onto the porch. She did, however, turn to face Georgia one last time.

"You know," she said quietly, "one day you might regret making me leave." To this, Georgia scoffed.

"Sure; and maybe people'll begin to breathe fire," she stated sarcastically before unfolding her arms and slamming the door. The young woman felt the shockwave go through the wood beneath her feet, glancing down for a brief moment. When she looked back up, she scanned the numbers that had been engraved on a phony bronze plate, of which read '933', that hung at eye-level.

Under her breath, she spoke one word. "Fine."

The sky above her was painted a hazy blue, beginning to glow with the sun's light towards the east. The sidewalk below her was littered with a few of the dried leaves that had fallen from the saplings that lined the street. The young woman, keeping her eyes lowered, brushed them with her feet as she walked along the concrete path; with the handle extended and the suitcase rolling behind her, its small wheels drumming rhythmically behind her.