My first fanfic… Sorry about the prologue by the way because it may be a little drawn-out, confusing, and inaccurate (I realized after I wrote this that the streets would be pretty busy so try and interpret that.
If the story seems somewhat off, it is due to my uncontrollable urge to add and take away things in the story as I rewrite it…
Disclaimer: The characters were stolen from me and the judge wouldn't believe me, so I am stuck saying I do not own the characters but are in fact owned by Aoyama…. But don't worry it's going to the Supreme Court soon.
Thief in the Night
Beika City is a sight to be seen at night. The buildings loom like depressed giants to those who walk. It is only the lamplights that are candles on the street and the occasional car that creeps steadily along that illuminate them. The buildings could be described, by many a poetic thinker as moons. The glare of the streets as well as the occasional late-night worker pushed back the shadows that secret themselves away, hiding their lonely scars from those who do not care.
To some, the city at night is a sinister thing; a living being that sleeps during the day. Others view its as their safe haven, like a warm fire that envelopes them. Many view it as the center of their cycle of normalcy. The white phantom, however, views the city somewhat differently. Like the phantom it is, it drifts in between those views. The city is, in its view, a domain that cloaks and protects it, illuminates its glory, as well as tosses it out into an arena of lions in the form of the local police.
The white phantom, ever the thieving gentleman, steals the right of dominance over the city, leaving only a note as warning beforehand. As a thank-you, it leaves behind the spoils of war taken from the day-people. It is usually a trinket of great value. But the trinket, which once belonged to the day-people, is always changed. It still basks in its own radiance, but where the phantom thief had touched it with white-gloved fingers, there is a lingering sense of a deep sadness.