The Grey Fox

"They say she's back," a woman whispers to her friends. They shudder collectively and push closer to each other.

Another one pipes up, "Old Mr. Graham down the road has locked himself in the house."

"He's a crazy old bat. Should've been locked up in an assylum decade ago. Anyways, that won't stop her," the first woman rolls her eyes, "She's a menace, and the police ought to do something about her."

"Too scared, in my opinion," a third one intones, like it's a well-rehearsed line.

"What are you all talking about?" a younger woman taps her foot against the pavement impatiently. She sticks out like a sore thumb in her skimpy clothes and bold attitude. The others look around nervously.

"Not so loud!" the second woman chides quietly.

"The Grey Fox, of course," the third one pauses for dramatic effect.

"The who?"

The first woman straightens, "Our resident pickpocket, Chloe."

Chloe bursts out laughing, "Goodness, Bella! I thought you were going on about some serial killer. We had pickpockets around every corner back in Manhattan."

"Not like her, you didn't," Bella shakes her head ominously.

#

The Grey Fox smirks from her hiding place. She's found a new target. Stretching her limbs, she gets up, firmly placing two well-toned legs on the cemetery wall. She slides lithely through the dense bushes. Once she's in the street, she follows the city girl from a safe distance. Her slender arms swing by her sides. She walks like a panther, sleek and dangerous. The girl stops by a cafe, paying the waiter from a loaded-purse. The Fox holds back a snort. Stupid girl. Chloe sips her coffee contentedly, leaning back against the chair. The Fox takes a seat near the entrance. While she waits, she takes out one of her calling cards.

Call the number below to have your property returned.

Regards,

The Grey Fox

Most people are dumb enough to call. Some even thought that the viruses that appeared soon after were a coincidence. No one realized that they were no longer the only ones to use their bank account. Something glints against the card. The Fox's breath catches as she picks up the minuscule microchip. She holds it to the light, examining the complex structure. Funny how a tiny thing like that could be her lifeline. The great Fox, dependent on something the size of an ant.

Chloe gets up and makes her way to the door. The Fox gets up. They collide.

"My apologies," the Fox drawls. She reaches her hand into the bag.

"Watch it, scum," Chloe snaps. The Fox replaces the money in the purse with her card in one expert move.

"Of course," she murmurs demurely, withdrawing her hand.

Chloe grabs her arm, "Do I know you?"

"I don't know," the Fox purrs, "Do you?"

Chloe's eyes glaze over. She looks confused. Good. "Pardon me," she mutters.

#

Chloe walks back to her apartment rapidly. She slides her key into the lock. The door falls back to reveal a cozy apartment. Chloe opens her bag and pull out her purse. As expected, the calling card is there. What is also there is a wad of cash, taken straight from the Fox's pocket. Chloe enters the phone number into her computer and types in a few commands. Pretty soon, cash is flowing from the Fox's account back to their real owners. Once it's done, Chloe disables the account and shuts the computer down.

"Amateur," Chloe mutters, counting the cash. Sixty one thousand five hundred and thirty seven dollars. The doorbell rings. Chloe stashes the cash out of sight and opens the door, her face a stone-cold mask.

The Fox leans against the doorway.

"Long time, no see, sis," Chloe steps aside, letting her in. The Fox enters the flat and takes a seat on a nearby chair.

"You found me," the Fox says incredulously. Chloe fills the kettle and turns it on.

"You actually sound surprised," Chloe notes, "Did you expect me not to?"

The Fox laughs, "You underestimated me." Chloe turns around slowly, hands in the air. The Fox points her gun at Chloe's chest.

"Really, Ally?" Chloe asks skeptically, "You're going to kill me?" The Fox winces at her real name, but recovers quickly.

"This ends now, Sister." The Fox places her finger on the trigger. "You know I'm right," Chloe's voice is calm, considering the fact that she's about to die at the hands of her own sister, "You shouldn't exist."

"Your mother created me, Chloe," The Fox replies, "Are you telling me your beloved mother was wrong?"

"No. I'm telling you that you were wrong to kill her. You are unpredictable. You aren't even human." Chloe lunges forward suddenly, catching the Fox off-guard. They roll over the floor, punching and kicking, reduced to a cat fight. Chloe places a kick in The Fox's abdomen. "That was for mother," she breathes.

The Fox grunts and retaliates with a punch to Chloe's neck. Chloe chokes, struggling to breathe. The Fox gets up and dusts her clothes. Chloe writhes on the floor. The Fox stamps hard on her chest. Chloe wheezes feebly.

"Nice try," The Fox tells her before leaving. Chloe hears the door click shut firmly behind her. Still unable to breathe, she brings her hand to her face, examining the microchip. Satisfied, she snaps it in half tosses it into the fire.

"Amateur," she chokes on the word. Her eyes droop and the world fades away.

#

Soon after, a scandal appeared in the local newspaper headlines. A prominent inventor from New York had created an A.I robot. The robot had turned on its creator and killed her. Soon after, it turned rogue. It was then known as the name of 'Grey Fox', the famous pickpocket. Somehow, the robot had malfunctioned and stopped working. The money was miraculously returned. Chloe wasn't mentioned anywhere. She was given a quite burial, faded out of her friend's memories, and was soon forgotten. The world carried on spinning.