Rooftop Interview

A rooftop bar, with the closing hour approaching. The dark skies of Los Diablos lit up by the orange glow of the surrounding city, like sitting on an island in a sea of fireflies. Almost no customers remaining, who is left are clustered around the bar, far from the two women occupying a small table near the edge of the roof. The music is distant, but loud enough that they lean close as they speak almost conspiratorially. A casual observer might assume that they are gossiping, or perhaps flirting. A casual observer would be wrong.

Mia Ochoa, journalist with ambitions, is chewing on her pen, her pad filled with notes as the interview has grown longer than she hoped. On the other side of the table, Dove, thief extraordinaire, is playing with the straw that came with her now empty drink.

"When you think about it, there's not much difference between being a thief and a journalist," Dove said, philosophical after three drinks and enough soft questions about her career and heists.

"I think I must lodge a protest there." Mia's smile didn't waver, and her voice was innocent and only slightly affronted. "What I do isn't illegal."

"Yet," Dove added with a wink.

"Let's hope it never gets to that." She looked down at her notes, pondering the next question, but she couldn't quite leave the subject alone. "Why would you think that? About the difference?" They both knew that writing could very much be illegal if you wrote the wrong thing.

"Finding out people's dark secrets." Dove gestured with the straw. "Sure, you print them while I steal them, but it's the same principle. But—" she interrupted as she saw Mia open her mouth "—that isn't the main thing. It's finding out how to pick your target and knowing how close you can get to the line."

"The line?"

"Oh, you know, the line between being only slightly suspect and being erased."

"Erased?" Mia asked again, leading the conversation forward with innocent questions.

"Well, killed," Dove clarified. "But that sounds so brutal. Blackmailed. Arrested. Disappeared. You know. The Big consequences neither of us want to deal with." She shrugged. "Sure, being chased by the LDPD can be great fun, as can making fools of whatever local security someone's hired but both you and me know that there are people we don't touch. Even if it would be hugely profitable."

"You have a point," Mia conceded. How many stories did she have locked inside her head that she never could investigate or print? How many people she had a lead on being up to things that should, by all rights, be plastered all over the front page and shared with the public had she walked away from? She had seen what happened when people took those risks. Even off the record. Careers destroyed. Lives disappeared.

"Can't say I'm fond of it." Dove looked ill at ease, as she had ended up on a subject she hadn't intended to talk about. "But that's a reality every successful thief has to deal with. We're not revolutionaries, gang leaders or warlords. We can't blow up half the city if we lose our temper, or regenerate if someone blows our head off. We need to be careful. I need to be careful."

"And yet you're here, talking to me."

"Oh that is just PR." Dove laughed. "Half the shit I steal are for others, it is in my interest to make sure that everyone knows I'm the best so they will hire me to do the job. A safer way to play things too, in general the person who hired me ends up the target if whoever I stole from wants it back. Being a mercenary makes me safer, paradoxically. Hell, at times the victims even hire me to steal things back. I tend to say no to that, because it feels a bit crass, but some people you just don't say no to."

"Some people?"

"Not going to name names, you know that."

"Why is mercenary work safer then? I'm sure our readers would like to know, since that is generally considered a risky business." Mia held her pen poised to write, giving Dove her most curious look.

"Oh it is risky when you're on a job," Dove agreed. "Nobody hires you because it will be easy. They hire you because it is either too expensive, too embarrassing, or too illegal to have their own employees do it. So that is a risk. But a fun one. What I'm talking about is fallout. What happens after the heist. Sure, it's the same in the eyes of the LDPD, but the truth of the matter is that everyone who has something worth paying -me- money to steal might have use of me in the future. I'm just a tool. Someone doing a job. Killing me off would be a waste. It wouldn't stop it from happening again, and it sure as hell wouldn't hurt the person who hired me. In fact, it might even let them off the hook on the final payment. So no need to go after me. If they do, it's personal, and you can never account for wack jobs like that. Which is why the research I was talking about before is important. Never take jobs to hit someone who might take it personally rather than as a business expense."

"That makes sense." Mia frowned. "But some thieves do, and they're still at large. Do you see that as luck or lack of caution?"

"You're talking about the new guy? Gal, whatever." Dove made a dismissive gesture with her hand. "It's different when starting out, you need a few grand heists under your belt to build a reputation. Then you can start taking commissions. They'll either calm down or get killed. We'll see."

"As one in the field," Mia smiles, trying to make the question as innocent-sounding as possible, "what would your comments be about their possible political motivations?"

"None of my business." Dove looked straight at Mia, as if trying to convince her that she was telling the truth. "But if you're going to print this, I'm going to give them a piece of advice. People who try to change things doesn't last long in this business. Or in this town. Better to focus on what you can reach." She held out her arms to demonstrate. "A person doesn't have much reach unless they're running a large corporation or something. Two hands only goes so far. That's how I see it. I take care of me and mine, and the city can take care of itself. None of my business."

"I see." Mia put her pen down. "That's not exactly what I have heard."

"You've heard a lot of things you can't print, right?" Dove winked. "This one isn't much different. I'm just a thief, no, I am the -best- thief in Los Diablos. That's your angle, right? Because that's the reason I choose to accept this interview."

"Off the reco—"

"That's not how things work." Dove's voice had gone harsh. "There is no 'off the record' with you journalists, it just ends up in your own records instead of being published. You really think you're someone who can safely keep secrets? You?"

"I happens to—"

"Don't give me that bullshit. You saw what happened to your mentor. You think he ended up an outcast just because he annoyed a Ranger and had no damn sense of decorum?"

"I don't—"

"Listen. Listen closely, sweetie." Dove dropped her voice and leaned closer. "He's still alive. Maybe you should ask yourself why that is. What kind of safeguards did he have that it wasn't easier to just disappear him. Accidents happen. Quite often to journalists."

"They do," Mia admitted.

"Maybe you should consider what kind of safeguards you have if you want to ask questions like that. Because it's one thing to have the guts to interview villains capable of tearing your head off and relying on the fact that you look cute and innocent and flatters their ego to stay alive, and it's quite another to even start thinking about writing about politics."

"I'm not writing about politics," Mia quickly clarified. "I just like to have context for my stories."

"And the context is that I am a great thief, up for hire with perfectly negotiable fees if the score is fun enough, and if the new guy wants to dethrone me, they'd have to work a lot harder. That's it. Nothing about my partner. Nothing about my family. And nothing about my neighborhood." She crossed her arms, leaning back.

"Armadillo is off limits?" Mia made sure to sound as disappointed as possible. "You know they have fans, right? All the mysterious types do in the end. And the extra arms..." she paused. "I suppose I shouldn't tell you what some people say about what they'd like them to do with those extra arms."

"Oh, no need, I know," Dove said with a chuckle. "But Armadillo is shy. They don't give interviews. Or talk about their private life. And I will honor that."

"Disappointing but understanding." Mia turned the page. "How about your rumored friendship with the premium builder of villain weaponry in Los Diablos then? Dr. Mortum?"

"Oh our relationship is one of mutual profit. I steal interesting things, and gets interesting equipment in return. I don't think that in that I am any different from a number of local villains. Gotta support your local arms-dealer, you know." She laughed. "You're not going to get me to bad-mouth my contacts. Only my rivals. And that's good-hearted at best. I don't have beef with anybody."

"Remarkable if true," Mia teased. "But I can respect not wanting to air it in print. Still disappointing. Rivalries sell."

"Rivalries gets you killed. I like staying alive."

"Out of curiosity..." Mia paused briefly. "How much do you charge? On average."

"More than your salary can afford." Dove's smile grew wider as Mia flushed. "Oh don't give me that look, we both know you had something in mind when you wanted this interview. Something more than a fluff piece about rivaling thieves in Los Diablos."

"And if I did?" Mia straightened her back, meeting Dove's smile head on.

"Well, first, you can't afford me. Second, you've made me really curious." Dove, scratched her head, looking at Mia as if she could steal the contents of her head. "So this is how we'll do it. You tell me what this is really all about, and maybe something will magically happen without you knowing how. Or who. Of course that is if you're ready to take the risk of telling someone who might very well use what she learns against you."

"I..." Mia let out a breath. "I am prepared to take that risk. Would you know if we were being watched?"

"Most likely. I don't take stupid risks."

"Okay." She reached into her back, pulling out a small wad of folded papers. This was a longshot, but right now it was the only option she had. The curiosity of someone capable of helping her... hopefully that would be enough.

She was running out of time.