“Okay,” Jorge said to himself with a slightly strained breath. “One more mile, then I’ll grab a doughnut.”

Jorge, propped up against a tree, sighed as he pushed himself off. In the middle of the Central Park, he watched as several joggers ran past him on the path, taking it in stride. Jorge, on the other hand, was looked just a little winded. The problem was not his age, or his inability to do it, he just hated to jog when it was hot. He would rather be in a gym working out at the weight machines or running on a treadmill, but his doctor had told him a little fresh air might be a bit more helpful. So, with a small roll of his eyes, he stepped back onto the trail, stretched his limbs and continued his run.

Dressed in baggy, dark blue sweatpants with a white streak down the sides and a deep gray tank top that was covered in sweat, Jorge really did look the part of a New York City resident. He was glad for that. Being from Miami was hard enough but the last thing that Jorge really wanted was to seem at all like he did not fit in. Though he could care less about what people thought of him, it just seemed like less of a hassle.

The summer morning sun beat relentlessly on the grizzly police officer as he continued his exercise, jogging past the beautiful scenery of this island of nature surrounded by the towering monoliths of glass and steel. All around him he could feel the beat of the city. He watched as several joggers and power walkers moved past him, witnessed children as they ran through the grass and played tag as they darted from behind several trees, and even saw the chess tables where the many groups of people sat around challenged each other battles with carven figurines. Yes, though it lacked the sound of the beating ocean on the shore, Jorge was indeed starting to like New York. It had a vitality, a life all its own that he had finally started to appreciate.

After a few more minutes of jogging, Jorge finally came to a stop as he placed his hands on his hips and breathed in heavily. His exercise had been a successful one. He had ran the length and time he had wanted to. Upon spotting a water fountain, Jorge walked over to it, flipped its switch and leaned down, greedily drinking the water that flowed out. He was extremely thirsty and his body was screaming at him to hydrate again.

Finally he stood up straight, caught the passing glanced of a couple young women and grinned silently to himself as he continued to walk through the park, this is until he caught a scent that immediately pulled him in another direction…the smell of coffee.

Jorge sighed as he continued to follow the smell until he found a coffee vendor. Though he did not drink coffee much, he knew that besides a cup of Joe, these vendors also sold packaged pastries.

“Well,” he rationalized to himself, “I did jog an hour. I guess one danish won’t kill me.”

He then immediately got in line and awaited his bad breakfast decision.

It was another typical hot day in New York City and the air as usual was to hard to breath for his liking, smoggy, dirty, whatever you want to call it left a foul taste in the winged dancer’s mouth. It was another day out on the town trying to make a quick buck, life was hard for the young tailed teenage mutant after all and pick pocketing could only get you so far, mind you it wasn’t to beneath him to snatch a wallet if he noticed the owners of it wouldn’t miss it much.

Like this guy for example, he walked by a coffee shop and looked at his Rolex, the sunlight gleamed off of it and signaled to Carrick, ‘Hey this guy has money!’ turning on the spot Carrick jumped to his hands and started to spin, his miss matched eyes fixed on the guys suit and jacket. A jacket in this weather… maybe he was too rich to sweat? It didn’t matter to Carrick the wallet would be fat and heavy, something that would take precision maybe pick it when he was getting coffee?

The rich man slowed and looked to Carrick and smiled, a smile he matched and returned ten fold, the winged angel started to laugh as the music continued to push him onwards with his performance. A hat sat on the edge of a cardboard box and the line off to the side of the coffee shop was perfect to aid him on his audience. He did look like a home less kid after all, other than his typical flannel clothing that looked like he picked them up from a thrift store, his hair shaggy and a bit of dirt strategically placed for sympathy.

A few girls passed by after getting their coffee and dropped some coin in his hat, they giggled when he thanked them. He didn’t know why they giggled he just know they did. Maybe it was his accent? He shrugged and turned his attention to the rich guy with the jacket and Rolex, who was now in line for coffee.

Despite the lack of chaos the park had to offer it was still a fine place to set up shop no one would really suspect a kid that looked like and angel anyways. Walking on his hands then spinning to his neck Carrick’s wing flung out and knocked the rich guy off balance and forcing him to fall over.

‘Time for the Emmy’ thought Carrick as he immediately up righted himself and helped the guy up with his ulterior motive in play, ”Cripes! I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize how close you were!” the man blinked and sat upright and then took the hand Carrick offered him, “No worries… it happens…” Carrick pulled the guy up and patted they guys side down and plucked the wallet from the guys front pocket and slid it in his sleeve. ‘Thank you Carnies for your wise ways’ thought Carrick as he scratched the side of his head with the sleeve that had the wallet in it. ”Clumsy wings!” Carrick said as he hit one of his wings lightly before turning his back to the rich guy and walking over to his hat where the rest of his money was.

The kid is good, Jorge thought to himself as he watched the angel winged kid walk back to his display.

The whole time, Jorge had been watching him because he found interest in the homeless boy as he danced around for spare change. Part of him was not sure if those wings were fake or just maybe the boy was a mutant. He had almost gotten lost in his thoughts but that was when the kid bumped into the Rolex wearing business man “accidentally”. Having been on the force for so many years, one of the first things that he was taught was how to keep an eye out for pick pockets, purse snatchers, and etc. Having caught several on his own beat in his time, Jorge knew what signs to keep an eye out for and here he definitely had seen them. While most people would have been too busy with watching the fallen man, Jorge on the other hand had kept his eyes on the kid and took note of the odd bulge that seemed to appear in the kid’s sleeve after helping him up.

Jorge gave a small sigh as he looked up in line and saw that he was only one person away from getting his danish, but…unfortunately duty did call.

He slipped out of line and casually walked over to the boy’s display. He took note of the upturned hat, the dirt smudged face and worn clothes. Jorge contained an inward smirk as he watched the kid. All he needs is an English accent and name tag that read “Artful Dodger” and he’d be straight out of a Dicken’s novel.

Jorge must have stood long enough for the kid to catch sight of him because once he did, Jorge tossed a dollar into the kid’s hat, the only small change he had had on him. As he stood in front of him, the printed NYPD on officer’s sweaty tank top was clearly visible.

“You’re a good acrobat, kid,” Jorge said. Then he leaned down just a little so that no one else would hear him whisper. “But I don’t think that wallet you just lifted goes with what you’re wearing.”

With a smirk of a satisfied grin Carrick mentally counted down the seconds before he was ready to pick up shop and leave, too soon and it would be obvious he did indeed pick the guys pocket and too late, well he always had a quick escape but he would have liked it better if he could get through the day with a few more scores than just the big one, this was after all the Irish Angel’s way of making a quick buck and when you were on a roll why stop?

That was until he saw a large sweaty man in a NYPD tank top dropping a dollar into his skull cap that was stretched open so money could be placed in there without much problem. Grinning and continuing on with an act of innocence he had been perfecting since he was back home a few years ago he bowed his head and walked a bit closer to the hat and to where the large sweaty (hopefully non-cop) stood.

”Thank ya, kind sir!” Carrick said with another bow and his wings opened up so he could make the bow even more dramatic. His expression immediately turned to a sour one when he looked at the officer, he had to be, how else would he be aware he was a pick pocket, Carrick prided himself on his skill he had only been caught pick pocketing a handful of times but still, it was obvious this guy either had an eye for it seeing as he was one or he was trained to spot one.

The guy was leaning towards him and spoke quite enough so no one could hear him other than Carrick. Scrunching his nose slightly due to the sweat he could smell off of the officer he took a step back his tail lowered and his eyes fixed on the cop, ”Yeah? You giving me fashion tips?” Carrick asked with a wide smirk, ”That’s a nice shirt, your boyfriends?” he asked with a bit of a harsh tone in his voice. ”Suppose you want me to give it back right?” Carrick asked his hand trailing over to where the wallet was in his sleeve.

For what seemed like too long a time, Jorge said nothing in response. His deep, brown eyes merely stared at the boy as he stood there and looked up at him with an attitude that far exceeded his height. The closer Jorge looked at the boy’s wings, the more he was convinced that they were real. The boy was more than likely a mutant but as he stared at this Dicken-esque character as he stood in the flesh before him, the detective suddenly cracked a smirk at the boy’s words. After a few seconds that smirk gradually turned into a smile and then a chuckle.

“You got guts, kid,” the detective said as he took a step back. “And actually, no, the bad taste in tank tops is all mine.”

He sighed heavily as he watched the kid. He knew that he had him cornered, that he had caught the boy doing the one time he was professional at and could haul him in for it. It would be his job to do so, he was an officer after all, a keeper of the peace and justice. But as he stared at the angel winged kid, Jorge could only shake his head slightly.

He reminded him too much of his starting days on the Miami police force. When he used to walk the beat there were so many times when he would run into kids like him. Teenagers, children, all of which made lifestyles out of picking pockets or some form of stealing in order to either make it a day at a time or for some bigger hustler whom they all worked for. Many of these kids Jorge made friends out of, some of which he helped get into better situations, others whom did not want to leave the streets, became his contacts and he always made sure they were safe. It was tough like for a homeless kid, especially seemingly mutant ones. The detective was not sure where this kid fell into, but hoped his life was not as bad as all that.

“Listen kid, I understand times get tough,” he said quietly. “So let’s just say, you hand me the wallet and I never saw you. There’s no need to ruin both our days by me having to haul you in on my day off.”

It seemed odd for these words to be coming from him. After all if there was one thing that the detective prided himself on was the fact he followed his job almost to the letter, but there was another side to him; one that knew that there were times where it was okay to bend certain rules and to the look the other way. After all, the boy had not done anything too terrible, he took a man’s wallet. It was not like he killed a man. Besides, the more that Jorge regarded the kid, the more he actually respected him. He was not afraid to show his mutation to the world. He did not hide behind a mask or use his abilities for any true evil, except for a petty crime. At least that is what the detective assumed. He did not see malice in the “angel’s” eyes, only an attitude which the kid probably should tone down before he got himself into real trouble.

Jorge then put out his hand, at first it seemed to take the wallet back, but instead turned into a greeting. “The name is Jorge Cervantes, it’s nice to meet you.”

Taking the complement with a grin Carrick nodded his head slightly to the larger and much more sweaty man and then added, ”He must like you for your personality then?” Carrick asked again in a mock tone as he shifted his weight his tail swaying behind him. Carrick didn’t like being cornered and that’s what this man was doing precisely.

He saw the pick pocketing of one wallet but, what if he looked in his other pockets? Did he empty out the wallet or two he had before? Yesterday was as productive as today was shaping up to be. Hundred and two dollars was a big haul, it would be a shame if… shifting his weight there was nothing in his pockets, ‘oh good!’ Carrick thought glad there was nothing else the off duty officer could take if Carrick did decided to cooperate.

Hands behind his head reaching towards his back as if he was attempting to reach an itch Carrick inched his arm with the wallet closer to the other hand where he hopefully was being inconspicuous enough as to where the officer wouldn’t notice the movements behind his head. His wings were upright enough to hopefully distract the man. Shifting his wings upright then moveing the lower part of his wings he attempted to distract the man long enough for Carrick to remove the money.

He was trying to relate, a fake smile touched the winged kid’s face as he nodded his face as the smile turned to a sadder one, ”Times are tough, it’s hard living on the streets…” he said lying trying to play off being homeless theater was the only class he never skipped, ”…. Alright, don’t want to ruin your day after all…” his right hand removed the money from the wallet and with another two slights of the hand the wallet was in its sleeve it was before and the money was in another.

Acting up the itch Carrick started moving his hands back and forth and started to wince as his wings opened to make it look like Carrick was scratching at the base of the wings, within a second Carrick’s left hand (the sleeve with the wallet) ended up at his side while the right one (the one with the money) kept on scratching his face showing the pleasure to act up the part of taking care of an itch.

”Carry” Carrick said eyeing the man’s large hand but making it look like he was to interested in scratching to shake his hand. Last time he shook a cops hand he ended up in cuffs and had to explain how one of the bullies at school ended up atop a flagpole.

Lifting his right hand away from his back and putting it back to his side his wings closed up and his left hand reached out where he slid the wallet from it’s proper place and caught it in his hand. ”Here, I think there isn’t anything in it anyways, it was too light when I got it…” Carrick said defiantly as he gave the appearance like he had just been bested at his own game. Holding up the wallet to the off duty officer named Jorge he offered it up to him.

The detective said nothing as he carefully took the wallet back from the winged boy. He was curious as to why the boy seemed too fidgety, his wings opened and closed as he took his time in giving the wallet back to him, almost like he was trying to take his time. Jorge noted that wherever that itch was the kid got on his wing, it must have been on hell of one. He was going to say something when the wallet was handed to him with little more resistance. The wallet did feel light, but Jorge did not bring attention to that. He did not even bother to open it.

He moved around and stood between the kid and his money, with a smirk on his face. “Yeah, it does seem light.” It seemed for a moment that Jorge was about to say more on the subject but instead he merely stood and regarded the kid for second.

Cobb, that is who he reminds me of, Jorge thought to himself. There was a reason that Carry made him reminisce, because he reminded him of Cobb, a young boy back in Miami, another pickpocket who used to always run to him with tips and gossip that he had heard while he was on the streets. Though Jorge tried hard to get Cobb to go straight, to get him in the foster system or at least on some right track, the boy refused. He was stubborn down to the core and any time child services would be called, Cobb would disappear for days at a time. But it was his stubbornness added with his loyalty in helping Jorge that got a target painted on his back, one that eventually led to a very heartbreaking crime scene.

The detective sighed deeply as he nodded behind the kid for him to turn around. “Listen…Carry. You see those people out there. You have good skills, but you’re not going to be able to trick everyone, all the time. No one is that good. Now, I’m not going to try and step on your toes or make you feel bad for doing what you did. I’m not one of those cops. But…I’ve seen too many kids like you go down the wrong paths because they did not watch their backs. Just be careful out there, okay?”

Detective Cervantes clapped the boy hard on the shoulder and started to walk away from him. As he passed the rich man still in line for his coffee, Jorge casually dropped the wallet near the man’s feet so that no one else could see. He cleared his throat hard to get the man’s attention and when he finally did turn to face him, Jorge gave him a winning smile.

“Excuse me, sir,” he said nonchalantly. “But is that your wallet near your foot?”

“Oh!” The man exclaimed as he quickly picked it up and shoved it back into his pocket. “Thank you so much sir!”

“No problem,” Jorge said with a smile.

As he turned to jog away from the line, Jorge caught Carry’s eyes and gave him a short nod. As the two stared at each other, Jorge grinned as he started to twirl a hat on his index finger. It obviously was not one that he wearing before, mainly because he did not have a hat on before. Instead the hat had a familiar look about it. It was a skull cap…one that at some point held money for a performing, winged mutant named Carry. He left the money though, he was not a really a thief after all, he had merely picked up a trick or two from the many pickpockets he had to learn to watch out for.

He gave Carry another curt nod before he again continued his jog, skull cap in hand. He had hoped that would at least have earned some respect from the boy that he was trustworthy.

It was odd if the officer who was off duty really such an upstanding officer then why didn’t he make more of a scene when he caught Carrick pick pocketing. All the cops back home had no problems blaming whatever happened on Carrick, more than a few times he had to be brought home in cuffs but now. Shifting his weight under the pat from the large officer Carrick wasn’t really expecting it so it forced him almost to fall over.

Regaining his posture he stood upright and gave a look to the officer, one that said ‘sure because you know everything about everything’ it was a typical smart ass look Carrick doled out from time to time mostly to authority figures, which would be one of the reasons why he got in trouble as much as he did.

Turning and watch the officer walk away with the wallet Carrick frowned slightly when he dropped it at his feet… it was too easy… he turned and looked to notice a pile of money where his hat used to be… ”Ah hell!” Carrick cursed as he turned to see the so-called keeper of the peace stroll away with Carrick’s favorite skullcap.

Teeth clenched Carrick frowned more and turned to the pile of money and gathered it up shoving the coin and dollars into his pockets before turning his attention back to the officer. If eh wanted to play the one up game, fine but it was a game he would lose for it was a game Carrick always took to the next level and the next level in this game was going to be something Jorge couldn’t top.

Waiting till he was out of sight for the most part Carrick took all of his belongings (except the box) and opened his wings, bending his knees then jumping into the air Carrick flapped once and then twice and took to the air. If he wanted to steal from a thief then by all means it was only right the thief stole from him. High into the air Carrick flew, above the trees and above some low buildings that were now in view for him. Here he waited following his target waiting till the right moment to strike.