Trap
Drawing his blade slowly to not make any noise, Obermann entered the room quietly and cautiously. The intruder had cut power to the manor, and darkness reigned. While his eyes took their time, he focused on the sounds. He had listened for footsteps earlier, so now he took the time to confirm by breaths that there was only one person in the room. Incidentally, that person was occupied with the safe.
The thief spoke first, and he recognized the voice. "This time you're outmatched," she said, knowing that he had come alone. By now his eyes had accustomed to the dark, but so many details were lost in the shadows. Too many of his skills relied on sight. She continued, "I set traps."
"You're lying," he countered.
"Maybe," she said coyly.
The authorities had already been alerted and would arrive soon, but Obermann knew she would be done and gone before then. Deciding it would be a better idea to observe the burglary, he chose not to leave the room for better tools. He carried a few throwing knives on his belt, but if he didn't kill the thief, she would simply flee the scene. He sheathed his sword as well. If she was telling the truth, he wouldn't be able to use it. Just last week, Obermann had argued with his new employer about hiring more staff.
Caught between not quite believing the claim of traps and not wanting to trigger any, Obermann edged forward carefully. In a moment, he felt something at his calf. He moved back and bent to examine it, finding a trip wire. After following the wire to a nearby chair, he dismantled the trap, although he wasn't able to ascertain where the other end had been connected to. He resumed his slow approach.
Referring to their previous encounter, Obermann asked, "How are your ribs?" He hoped to distract her with conversation.
"Healed," she replied tersely. "Thank you for asking, Dirk."
"Nobody calls me Dirk anymore," he muttered. He had no name with which to address her. "It's not fair that you have my name. What do I call you?"
Without hesitation, she said, "Freebird."
Obermann hadn't expected any other response. From what he knew of them, birds were often contracted to do odd jobs, though in his experience, many of them dealt only in burglary. It was common for certain circles to attack each other using birds. If the bird succeeded, neither the bird nor the employer could be held accountable.
"That's a title, not a name," he argued.
Freebird replied, "When you find me outside, you can use my name." He knew she meant outside of the job.
"There must be dozens of birds and freebirds in this sector alone, but when people speak of the Freebird, they speak of you," he said. Whoever hired her paid exorbitant fees.
"You should try it. Being a free agent gives me the power to make my own rules," she said, disregarding the subtle compliment.
Responding truthfully, Obermann said, "I prefer the stability. Paid hourly instead of by delivery." Suddenly, Freebird yelled, "Stop right there!" The tone of her voice caught his attention enough for him to freeze in shock. He heard fear, and he didn't understand why she would be afraid. "Don't move," she said, closer this time. "I don't think either of us wants your head to roll." Obermann found that ironic since she had set the traps. He listened, hearing her uneven footsteps pad lightly across the floor. She skipped and hopped in some places.
"Every bird I meet is just a thief," he said.
"Most that claim to be birds have never been to Crohaven," Freebird began. "With so few real birds, not many can call their bluff. But the fakes do usually have some skill in this field." When she stood behind him, his body tensed. Although the law would never rule in her favor, Obermann understood that he could die on the job.
He wondered out loud, "So then how does one determine a real bird?"
Freebird scoffed at the question. A moment later, Obermann felt a gloved hand under his chin. "Chin up," she whispered with her body pressed at his back. He obeyed, but his body shook as he tried to guess her actions from what little information he had. Hands roamed his back and neck, and he chastised himself for putting himself in such a dangerous situation, yet found himself unable to think of a way out of it. He couldn't tell if she was removing some unseen trap or if he had just walked into one by letting her get so close. He didn't understand why he had let this happen. When her hands jabbed two locations in his back, pain traveled up his spine.
Reacting almost instinctively, Obermann spun around in the direction closer to the door. The motion resulted in a backhand to Freebird's face. As soon as his hand made contact, he felt a surge of guilt. She was so much smaller and physically weaker than the opponents he was used to dealing with. He had already broken her bones once.
With a yelp, Freebird jumped back to try to escape any further hits. Obermann had to admit that she moved quickly, for she was halfway across the room again before he realized what had happened. His back felt... better. More shocked than he had been with the pain, Obermann asked, "What did you do?"
Having returned to the safe, she said, "You are a very tense man." Her utterance sounded different, and Obermann surmised that her hand had been pressed against her lips.
Relaxing a bit, Obermann remembered his earlier question about real birds. She had answered it after all. He had originally thought that Crohaven's training applied only to objects, yet Freebird had showcased her apparent skill with the human body. He heard the squeak of the safe door swinging open.
"Can a Mag really catch an arrow?" she questioned as she moved the contents of the safe into her own pouch.
The reference to his training reminded Obermann about his knives, and as he patted his belt, he realized that she had removed them. He cursed under his breath at his ineptness. He was supposed to be a professional.
To his chagrin, Freebird let out an unfettered laugh. "I'll throw one back if you like," she suggested.
Obermann pointed out, "I need to see the throw." Specifically, he needed to see the thrower's eyes and body language before and during the throw. Although there were other stunts Obermann felt showcased more of his training, this particular one was decidedly well-known.
In response, Freebird moved to stand before the window, where she was illuminated more clearly. "Twenty-four paces at the doorway," she said, gesturing in the direction of the door. She had known the requirement of twenty paces.
Obermann moved toward the door. He figured he might as well humor her and gain a knife. He also felt the need to prove himself after falling for her trick. The feat would be easier with proper lighting, but the extra distance gave a little more time to react. She waited until he had reached the doorway. Before the knife even left her hand, he had followed her gaze and knew she aimed at his right shoulder.
As the knife traveled, Obermann stepped to the side. If he wasn't as good as he thought he was, at least he wouldn't have needlessly injured himself. He counted silently before moving his hand and at the exact moment, successfully snatched the knife out of the air by the handle. He remembered so many times he had cut himself on the blade.
Freebird clapped twice. "Impressive," she complimented him.
"Not really," Obermann replied automatically. He wasn't particularily proud of letting his knives be stolen in the first place. He announced, "I have a weapon now."
Still by the window, Freebird nodded. "You can try," she said, holding up her arm and indicating the metal vambrace around it. She turned and busied herself with a task that he couldn't see. "Closer," she challenged, without looking up. "I'm not trying to catch it," she pointed out.
Because he didn't want to kill her, Obermann took a few steps forward and decided to target her shoulder. He had never seen or heard of anyone outside Magnum being able to stop a projectile, and she couldn't even see him that clearly. He threw, and immediately, she moved her arm to deflect the blade. The knife clattered to the floor.
Obermann remained stunned. Not even Mags could move that fast, especially without seeing the details of the throw and trajectory. Recalling Freebird's actions over and over, Obermann came to the conclusion in a state of awe. She had known his mark. She had moved her arm without seeing him. Only sensitives could act with that kind of foresight.
Freebird had finished setting up what appeared to be a slingshot at the window. Even if he could duplicate the exact physics of the launch, the package would be long gone. He watched helplessly as Freebird took aim and released. Now that he was able to attribute much of their interaction to her sensitivity, he remembered her greeting. He had been outmatched all along.
Freebird laid out his remaining knives on the sill. "I'm done here," she said.
He asked, "What about the rest of the traps?"
"There was only one. But you'll have to check anyway because you can't be sure which statements are true." Freebird climbed agilely out the window. "I expect to see you again, Dirk," she called before she was out of view.
Obermann remained where he was. He didn't need to check for traps right away as they would be easier to spot when the power came back on. His employer's loss was his own, but he didn't feel like he had lost the engagement. Obermann knew how to find the Freebird outside.
Dec 2015
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