Chapter 1: A righteous thief

In 169 Pine street stands a Tavern called Pig's Den. Coming from the inside of the tavern are loud and unpleasant screams and shouts from its 'customers', the smell of alcohol and cigarettes protruding in the air disturbed the passersby near the establishment. The inside of the tavern is much worse than it is outside. The chairs are disorganized, the wooden tables are sticky, evident that it wasn't washed or wiped for a long time. The flooring has cracks in it, and mud from its customer's boots imprinted itself on the floor. And an unbearable stench coated the entire building. The place befitted and lived up to its name, The Pig's Den. 

Pig's Den tavern, despite its rowdiness and chaotic atmosphere, is known for many other things, but what stands out the most is its affordable yet quite exquisite ale and well-fermented grape wine called the "Amir's wine". Their great selection of alcohol and their reputation for hospitality, on the other hand, are poles apart. The owner, Big Pig John is a hideous-looking middle aged man with a big body structure similar to that of a well-grown pig, hence the name Big Pig John. But John isn't just known as the Pig Den's Owner he's more known for his temper and arrogance, he would get into fights everyday, giving the tavern a bad taste for decent customers. Right now, John is grabbing a young lad by his collar, dragging the former across the tavern to the exit door. The onlookers inside the tavern are whispering among themselves, some are laughing, giggling, and yelling "Cut his head off!".

"Fucking tramp! Get out of my tavern and don't come back!" Big Pig John shouted and threw the young lad out of the tavern.

"Who said I'm coming back?! Pigshit!" The lad retorded. John sneered at the young lad, obviously trying not to kill the latter, but alas, John just spat on the young lad's face before turning his back and entered the tavern. 

Bystanders near the tavern passed by the lad, minding their own business, as if something like this was just a normal occurrence for the people of Lenburg. 

The lad propped himself up with difficulty, dusted his disheveled clothes, and took off to one of Lenburg's small alleys. 

"Got thrown out again, Damian?" a croaky voice from above startled the lad, causing him to panic a little. "Bloody hell, Snider! My heart skipped a beat!" Damian exaggerated. 

"So?" Snider ignored Damian's rant, laughing at the former's remark. 

"Yeah, no shit. Pigshit threw me out." Damian explained. 

"And the money?" Snider asked, looking at Damian with an expectant face. Damian smirked and took out an extraordinary looking purse, embedded with exquisite looking patterns, from his pocket, "Got it."

"Nothing to be surprised about, is there? How many times has it been since you joined the gang? Seven? Ten? I lost count. You got a cat's limbs for pickpocketing." Snider commended. 

"Twelfth." Damian Corrected. "But after this, I want out. You know I don't like this stuff. Stealing people's hard earned money is not my style! You knew that as well, didn't you?!" He continued. 

Damian, despite living most of his life in the streets, was righteous at heart. The harsh reality of life never corrupted his soul and mind, he lived his life truthfully. That was until recently, he was involved in an accident that made him join Snider's group, The Clowder. It hasn't been long since Damian joined their syndicate. A group of down-and-out homeless young individuals making a living out of pickpocketing and scamming people. They refer to themselves as "The Clowder '' referring to a group of cats living in the streets. 

"I know." Snider jumped out of the wooden stairs connected to the building's walls. "But you have to do one last job. We had a deal, Damian. Thirteen jobs, and you can choose to stay or leave the group, remember?" He added. 

"One last job and I'm out. That's final!" Damian argued, while handing the money to Snider. "There's 15 pounds in there. I counted it." 

"Did I ask?" Snider took out the money and counted exactly 15 pounds. He took a one pound note and gave it to Damian, "Your share." Damian took the one pound note and secured it inside his vest's inner pockets. 

"5 in the afternoon, same place. I'll give you the details of your last job." Snider tapped Damian's shoulder and left him alone in the alley. "Fuck it!" Damian threw a tantrum, kicking the trash next to him. 

Damian had nothing productive to do the entire day. He spent his hours playing by himself or begging at passersby. Something like this is nothing new to Damian. When he escaped from the abusive orphanage he was formerly in, he started making a living through begging in the streets or doing errands ranging from looking for missing pets and items to cleaning gardens and house roofs.

Time passed by like a train, soon it was 5 in the afternoon. Damian found himself walking toward a deserted warehouse near the city bridge. An isolated location, fitting as a hideout for a group of criminals like The Clowder. 

Damian opened the door which made a creaking sound. He surveyed his surrounding and saw that the interior of the warehouse exuded an aura of abandonment. Two rusted stairs made of steel stand near the warehouse's edges, a long mottled table with chairs is placed at the corner. It is also littered with broken glass, leaves, and twigs. 

"You're here. Just about time." Snider gestured his hand pointing at the chair next to the warehouse's window. "Go get a seat, this will take a while to explain." 

"No need. I'm fine where I stand." Damian refused Snider's gesture.

"Okay. Do what you wish." Annoyed, Snider replied. " This job is a lot different from the other ones. It's not merely robbing a person or scamming someone. The jewelry store at 132 Beckenham street. That's your next target…" Snider started sharing the details of the store Damian is assigned to rob. 

"Are you kidding me? That store is highly guarded, who would dare rob such a place? Have you lost your mind?" Damian refuted the idea. 

"That's where I come in." Snider replied to his refute and smiled, "Just trust me."