"See ya!" "After him!" "Like you bastards will ever catch up with me," came the scoff from the young man as he dashed through the street. The sea of people parted for him, but it didn't close for the four Blues chasing him. Swearing to himself, the man leaped up, swinging himself through a rickety merchant's cart. He spooked the shopkeeper enough to cause her to clutch her merchandise to her chest and shout an angry curse at him. He whipped his head to give her a smirk before he picked up his feet and sped forward again. "Get back here!" the lead Blue shouted, stabbing forward with his longsword. The thief scrambled to avoid the weapon, but it caught the end of his ragged, black scarf, tearing a hole beside the many others he had. Grunting with effort, the thief shoved the sharp end of the sword away, trying to get them off his tail. They were rather persistent, but he could understand why. In his small bag, he carried a priceless, ivory and gold goblet. Whoever drank the blood of their enemies with that goblet was said to gain magical powers, but he wasn't in it for that. He was in it for the money. The chase suddenly went cold, and the thief skidded to a halt to find the Blues suddenly gone. He chuckled to himself, hefting the bag over his shoulder. Blues, or Blue Badges, were the police force ruling over the many parts of Icadvia. A technologically powered city, Icadvia had mastered the art of steam-powered devices, giving way to vehicles, both air and ground, and, in some parts, electricity. None of that concerned the thief. He was just preparing himself to meld into the crowd, face covered in a makeshift hood when a heavy thud sounded on the building above him. He looked up to see several robed figures peering down, studying him. "Locke. Looks like you're trapped. Now we'll finally get you for stealing from us." "...Uh-huh. You forgot something." "And what is that, thief?" "I'm not trapped." His free hand blurred, and a knife blossomed from one of the figure's legs, and he clutched his limb in pain, screeching. The distraction was enough for Locke to bolt back the way he came. The Blues weren't on him anymore, so it was safe... for the most part. He ran up an old cart, bouncing on the end and jumping toward a balcony on a building. He hauled himself up, skittering to the flat roof so he could see his adversaries. Sure enough, three of them were donning the green robes of the Mage's Order, a powerful and influential guild in Icadvia. However, their companions were armed to the teeth. "...Huh. They got smart." They were finally sending bounty hunters after them, but Locke had escaped them several times as well. It wasn't until one shot a bolt of lightning from his palm that he realized not only were they armed, they had magical abilities as well. "Even better." They picked up their step, and he took that as his cue. They were faster, but they were cheating. He was running on pure muscle and agility, and they were enhancing their strength through magical means. They were going to catch him at some point. Evasion was possible, but only if he ducked and weaved through miles of Icadvian alleyways and buildings. He would tire, and they would not. "Blasted mages," he muttered, leaping to another roof as he ran. He would escape them. How? He didn't know. Only a miracle or eight perfect bullet shots would save him from his magical pursuers.