Impostor S.E.

She laughed as she left the building. It was too bad, or maybe in her favor, that no one could hear her. She made no sounds without her voice-box being formed, and she certainly hadn’t made time for that little detail as she fled the tower. The idea was to disappear as much as her gift would allow, and as fast as possible.

The plan went just as she had envisioned it, the dramatic lighting that the organization had put on only increased her chances of success. With the whole audience fascinated on the Great Man’s presentation, she used mist to slowly cover the camera and the amulet itself. While everyone oohed and ahhed, she quickly decreased the particles of the mist until they stopped, forming a solid film of ice over much of the room.

Within fractions of a second, the power had died and before the generators cut on, she was gone with the thing. Smiling, she thought of how many times they would check the tape over and over. They would not see her, would not see traces of the mist or ice in the room. Oh no, no one ever saw her. Literally a vapor, coming and going fluidly, taking and leaving whatever she wished, and only what she wished.

Thinking of this, she pondered the note- many hours had been spent debating what should be left behind. She felt confident that adopting the signature of another thief would help her get further away, but the bulk of the amulet would be troubling to continue to disguise - and transport- in her preferred liquid state. She could control the shape and action of any liquid form, but this was clearly a solid and she could not manipulate it, much to her frustration.

For now she remained in the sub levels of the city, having taken the beautiful stone through a grate in the building, freezing and smashing through it just like every other weak-metaled barricade that stood in her way during the journey a few miles outside the city. Later she would relish the news, watching them fumble over the amazing feat- such a precious item stolen right from under her nose. It gave her a great surge of confidence, and she emerged from a storm drain outside Manhattan.

A homeless man turning the corner glimpsed her, a beauty with long raven hair, her tall and radiant body clothed in a form fitting material that shone in the light as a light metalic blue, with a shimmery bright red satchel held tight to her side. Glimpsing him, she smiled and blew a kiss in his direction, then strutted across a field to open a cellar door and enter gracefully inside.

The End

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