((It's supposed to be a play on 'thief in the night' and it's so baaad. x.x)) They were gaining on him, and despite all of his twisting and turning, he couldn't avoid them forever. He was good, very good, in fact. But ducking and weaving only went so far. He ran, finding that he hadn't even gotten what he'd been trying to steal. He had slipped up by allowing a man to scream as he took him down. Locke hadn't killed him, but the man had gotten off a rough cry, ruining the serenity of the night and alerting everyone else to his presence. Without his prize, Locke had fled, not sauntered out of the house like he normally did. It seemed that was going to catch up to him. The footsteps stopped, and Locke made his second mistake of the night by stopping. He was just in time to see one pursuer loading up a pistol before he shot, the sound shattering the night. Locke, with little time to react, was only able to duck, but the man hadn't been aiming for his head. He was worth just as much dead as alive, and most wanted to see him dead. The bullet slammed into Locke's shoulder, taking the thief to one knee. The policemen whooped and ran to catch up to the fallen Locke, but he wasn't being caught like that. He preferred not being caught at all. Dizzy with the increasing pain, Locke took off again, swinging his arms despite the numb feeling creeping into his shoulder. His dark eyes scanned the residences on each side, searching for no light in the window. He spotted one, and he took that chance, diving to the side and slipping through the door. If it had been locked, he certainly broke it from the force of the impact. He slammed it shut, sliding against it and breathing hard. He was good, but even he couldn't run with an injury forever. He prayed to whatever cruel deity was watching him, also cursing that same deity for the bullet wound in his shoulder, peering around the room. His vision was fuzzy, and he really couldn't tell if it was in use or not. This all stemmed from his unusual sloppiness that night. He growled to himself, forcing his body to stand. What he didn't realize was that entering his house just might have been his third mistake for the night.