Wanted

The thief

05/30/1772 United States of America, Pennsylvania, Philadelphia
Jackson

My main reason for wanting Murry was that I knew him. Not in the "We are long time friends" way, but I knew him. I had feelings for him, that were so deep, that I hesistate to find a name for them. But I saw his work. I knew his story by heart. And, a few years prior, I hunted him. That was back when I was some no name hunter, that really needed the money. That meant, I hadn't care who paid me for what, as long as I got the money. Murry Lassfield was one of my first hunts. I had been completely inexperienced and he had an easy game with me. But I was young and prideful, as my sister had pointed out more than enough, and had continued hunting him. The poster of him, that had been in my possession for years now, had been at least five years old, his bounty long since having risen over 50.000.00$. The estate he was seen at last, being the place he escaped from. Not that I had known that when I had started hunting him. Two years before it had gone silent around him. No longer could one hear unbelievable stories about his heists. Most that knew him were aware of where he went. Everyone else thought he died. I knew he had disappeared because he had been forced to. I had met his "benefactor". Amelia Miller, a young heir of too much money, who came to America in search of a perfect world. The girl was the craziest person I have met in my life. She thought close to everyone beneath herself, abused and debased everyone around her. Murry had been the son of a servant, that had caught her attention. After years of being her favourite pet he had fled. The only reason he had stayed as long as he did, had been his dying mother. When she passed on, he had no reason to dwell. The enraged bitch had made up some story about him stealing from her, and put a bounty on him. Hearing of that Lassfield had figured he couldn't loose much else and he had started stealing for real. Noticing, that he got better and better at it, he performed larger and larger heists. That was when Miller decided she needed to make sure to get him back and hired me specifically. I didn't catch him. But I did have enough chances to talk with him, to learn his whole story and to fall in love with him. He was an astonshing and outgoing young man, proud of who he was, aware of what happened to him, but still powerful. I was 24 at that point, he 21. Our relationship had not been long, but deep. That's why I knew that he hadn't died, but was forced to go back to that woman. I feared what that had done to him. And that was kinda the whole reason why we were going to get him out of there. But also because I needed him for the job. Yeah.

05/30/1772 US, Pennsylvania, Philly
Murry

Even after two years of being back in this hell, I haven't managed to get used to the quiet. In my five years of freedom I grew used to the volume of the streets, the brawling in bars and the whispering of the sea. I spent months on ships, sailing through the caribbean, accompanying a merchant on his travels. The merchant that also sold most of my stolen goods, mostly paintings and jewelry, without ever asking where it all came from. Looking back, that had been freedom. I was capable enough to avoid the lesser headhunters, my bounty low enough to not attract the better ones. It had been good. I had everything I could have asked for. And then I made one mistake and ended up returning to this prison. Under her control. Even though her attentions were different now. Less sexual and more ... psychic. More about control. About making sure I knew that I would never have the chance to escape her again. Even two years after having returned to her. As if I had come willingly. Me running seemed to only have pushed her deeper into her craziness. Sometimes I thought she was going to break down, cry and scream, but she would only smile the next moment and act like the girl I imagine she could have been. That still creepes me out the most. When she acted all generous and nice. Gentle. It scared me, if I'm to be honest to myself. Because sometimes the aftermath would be even more violent or cruel than usual. The room, she had declared as mine when I had arrived, was bigger than anyone could ever need. I just couldn't get used to the sheer size of it. Some nights I woke up and the hollow feel of it seemed to swallow me. Emptiness, it turnes out, was worse than anything she could have done to me before. The feeling that I was becoming more and more isolated, dependant on her. After an accident with one of the guards that I dread remembering, she had basically locked me up in here, barely letting me out. Out of this prison of gold and silk. I was so tired of being her little toy to slowly break and then throw away every time she lost interest. One time she forgot to feed me for three days. I only survived because a servant dared to defy her rules and brought me some food. On my darkest days, I really wished that servant wouldn't have bothered.

Telip

Even though Jackson tried to explain the situation to me beforehand, I still hadn't known what to expect. A broken pretty boy, sitting on the floor next to the Lady's chair, chained up but put into finest clothing hadn't been it. The boy looked barely old enough to have the reputation the person we were there for had, he didn't look the 28 years old he was supposed to be. I remember trying to tell wether Jackson was disappointed or something, but like in the month spent traveling, I wasn't able to read a thing. Jackson had proven to have an admirable pokerface, during the time we had spent together I hadn't learn anything about him, that he didn't want me to learn. But I had learned a lot about the boy sitting there on the ground. Jackson had told me most about his heists, his adventures, but he had been silent about the darker things. The secrets. The reason we were here. I still didn't fucking know what we were going to do when we had collected every person, Jackson had on his damn list. I starred at the boy, trying to provoke him, but he was completly motionless. Not reacting at all when we had entered and the 30 year old Lady Miller smiled like a child and asked us to sit. He hadn't reacted either when she had started patting his black hair. Or when she had pulled at it. Or when she had tried to get him to eat a piece of cake. I  thought that he either had an impressive control over himself, or was completly devoid of emotion. Not like I cared or something. But that bitch was already testing my nerves after these few minutes and he has been enduring her for years. And in his bed as well. Ugh. I was able to see why the boss wanted to save him. He wasn't just pretty or a good thief. He had proven to have patience and a will to survive. That might already qualify him for the job Jackson was planning. At least I expected the job to be complicated. And since this place's security was pretty awesome, the boss had been wise to have gotten me out first.