Stargazers: Prologue
By TheKnightWhoSaysNi

September 12th, 2007

I’ve never met anyone who can describe the amazing rush of exhilaration that comes from it, nor have I met anyone who can explain it. It is something you are born with, though if it is a blessing or a curse I cannot tell. It is something that has to be done, however. There is no avoiding it.

That, my friend, would be thievery. Plain and simple.

Though I don’t know exactly how, I became a part of the world of underground burglary. I knew everything, from how to pick a simple lock to how to detect guards from 50 feet away. I was the next prodigy, the one to beat.

And then I joined the Stargazers. After what happened, I had nowhere to go. After all, what better to do after falling down the rosters than to start up again?

Oh, yes, I almost forgot to mention. I was 5.

I am 7 right now, and I’m still learning what it means to be in a group. Back when I was a kid, I worked alone, stealing gold and expensive porcelain figures for whoever hired me. I didn’t know the meaning of stealing for food, I knew the meaning of stealing for money. I was rich when I was 5, and my family lived a good life. We were all happy with ourselves. There was my mom, who absolutely despised Pokemon, and then there was dad, who didn’t give a crap. As for me, I think I got my mom’s gene. Hate them to death. All they do is get in your way.

The Stargazers are an interesting group of people, really. I don’t know if I can describe them, only considering they’re just too hard to describe. I mean, I can list all they’re names, right here, on this piece of paper. Kingman, Rob, Grey, Joan, Lark, Angie, Jared. The last one’s me.

But what does that tell you about us? Just looking at Grey’s name, you can’t tell that he’s one of the happiest people I know, despite our circumstances. And if you just happened to eye Angie’s name, how would you know that she’s allergic to dairy?

And, being the nice, educated people you are, you wouldn’t know what living life on the streets is like. We’re not stealing for pleasure, people, we’re stealing for our lives. We try to do little things that make us seem like we’re not in trouble, like leaving a leaf with the word “Stargazer” inscribed on it. If the police found out we were orphans, they would send all of us to orphanages, separate ones no doubt.

Sometimes, I can’t stand it. I can’t stand the winters, when I have a 75/25 percent chance of getting frostbite. I can’t stand the summers, when the mosquitoes bite at you like you’re a feast. And I can’t stand those nights when all you can do is worry. I can’t stand it. But I have to. I have to get my life back. I have to get the respect of my parents back.

Why don’t I tell you of that day, the one where all of my dignity was thrown into the river, when my pride fell like an angel into the sewer? It is something everyone needs to know, after all.

I swear that there were no guards at that house. No security, no Houndoom, nothing. It was perfectly safe, nothing that could have possibly put me in danger.

And yet, I got caught.

I was in there. My new employer was known only by the name of Big G. He was an underground rapper who located himself near Celadon City in Kanto, where I used to work. He wanted a few documents from his producer’s house, documents which he wished to modify. I was 5, and I didn’t really know about how money was distributed and all that, so I gladly did it.

I walked up to the house, checked for the normal possible setbacks, and when I found none, picked the lock. I walked in. Nothing could have prepared me for what happened next.

I sprinted up the stairs into the poor producer’s bedroom. It was nice and all, but I had no time to study it. Third drawer down in the tallest dresser was all I could think about. I counted down, and opened the drawer. The papers were buried deep down, but I found them and whipped all of the wrinkles out. Satisfied, I began to walk downstairs.

But something caught the corner of my eye. A light shone in through the window, and I ran up to it to see a car pull into the driveway. Heart racing, I threw open the closet, closing it behind me when I had crawled into the darkest space. Just after I crammed myself in, I heard the front door open and a light flick on.

The producer walked up the stairs and went straight to his room. Raising his arms up, he yawned and turned on the light. With a sigh, he plopped down on his bed and looked over to the dresser.

I slapped myself, realizing my mistake. I had left the drawer open. What kind of thief, especially of my status, leaves the drawer open? Such an idiot!

“Who’s here?” he asked in a surprisingly calm voice. He immediately advanced to the closet and opened it. With amazing vision, he was able to pick me out of the darkness. “Show yourself!” he commanded.

I did. I came out of the closet. It is a thief’s rule, no doubt, that if you are caught, you cut your losses and reveal yourself. “I’m sorry sir,” I said, hanging my head low.

“You’re that five year old kid, aren’t you?” he asked, and I nodded solemnly. “I should throw you in jail, you know.”

Another thief’s rule is that, if you are caught, the second your captor mentions jail, you must agree to go there, or at least to have a trial. “Yessir,” I whispered, trying to keep the documents behind my back.

“Lemme see those,” the producer said, putting his hand out and moving his fingers in a beckoning motion. I gave the documents to him, and I could see his eyes scan them carefully.

He nodded. “Big G. I’m going to have to have a word with him. As for you, I’m going to have to report you to the police. Such a disgrace. A 5 year old and already a thief. Disgrace. You wait out in the hall while I call the police.”

He shoved me out of the bedroom and I stumbled down the stairs. The front door was half open, and I could breathe the summer night air. I looked out of it longingly. The prospect of running away was just so tempting.

And I did. I silently escaped. I ran all the way to my house, five miles away, and never told my parents. They found out from Big G the next morning, however. And you know what? They kicked me out.

So that’s really how I ended up here, I guess. The Stargazers found little 5 year old me wandering around, and took me in. For them, there was no code, there was no set of rules. It was, it is, a fight for survival.

I don’t know what’s going to happen next. For the past couple years, we’ve made a few petty thefts, but nothing that’s kept us secure for too long. But there’s something in the air. I can feel it coming, something big. I don’t know what’s going to happen next, but it’s going to be gargantuan.

Until then,
Jared.