We Say Goodbye More Than We Think We Do

Now, running through the markets, the pair of friends ran through what seemed like endless roads to them and cut through alleys in directions with no aim. It was draining to run for what felt like a long time, but the ever lingering thought of never catching the cloaked figure kept them going.

Though, Luca, who was the odd one out of the two when it came to stamina and any level or kind of physical gift. She ended up lagging behind Rambone due to the fact. Her sweaty steps that stepped on the cobble tiles from her black and white sneakers were somehow not ruined for her despite its small size, creases, and aging material that had made it look like it had not been worn for many years as a collector's item. It wasn't anything special, unfortunately.

Today wasn't very special for most people. Not much could one hear the thousands of steps repeating over and over and over as people got their groceries for the day or the week and headed to work. It was mostly empty, there were the occasional few people who were shopping for thrift deals on some niche meals and going to visit some friends who worked at stalls. It was a holiday: Labor Day. They hadn't realized it yet, though.

Having to stop to catch her breath, she spoke up to give Rambone an idea and some direction to their plans. Rambone promptly turned around out of concern.

"Hey, why are we chasing around endlessly? Don't you think one of us should ask around to see if they've seen the dude?" She proposed between pants.

"Well, I suppose..." He said, putting his hand on his chin to think as he pondered the idea. "Sure, you can do that. Just meet me by the police station, alright?"

She nodded her head, while a smoothing wind breeze made her hair flow in it and opened their mind before what they hit was the storm before it went into a full tumult.

"Alright, I will. Just promise me that you'll at least gain some leads from this, okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Don't worry. You do your job, too. Just don't look like you're a character in some shitty version of Brooklyn Nine-Nine, or else we're completely doomed." He joked.

"God, if I could slap you right now, I would." She mumbled in response, agitated.

"What was that?" He poked, confused.

"I'd slap you right now if I could."

"That'd be like trying to slap a hunk of metal. Wouldn't do much to it."

"Shut your ass up and let's get to it, Rambitch. I have the knife, you know."

"Why'd you call me THAT?!"

"Because it's more fitting than Rambone! Seriously, who could be proud of having a name like that?"

"Uhhh... me!"

"That's the most blatant and half-assed response ever!"

"What else am I supposed to respond with?"

"Uhh..."

The two fell silent and there was a brief pause. Then Rambone piped up again.

"Anyways, can I have the knife from your backpack?"

"Sure." She said, sighing.

She took off her backpack for a moment and rummaged through it and took out the knife, handing it to Rambone before she put it back on.

"Thanks. I might need this."

"Just don't kill anyone but that damn murderer with it."

"Will do, haha." He laughed and smiled, and then proceeded to run off in what seemed like a steep effort to catch them. "See you later."

She sighed once again and she walked towards a stall owner in the marketplace and began looking for answers.

The first shop owner she saw and approached was a middle-aged fruit merchant, a man who looked like he had drifted through the stages and years of his life on a rope, barely making due but satisfied and complacent with it all. A sign read "-15% off for Labor Day!"

"Oh, it's Labor Day?"

"Yeah. What interests you today?" He introduced with an enthusiastic tone in his voice.

"Not much. I was just wondering if you've seen a hooded figure in all black around here? I'm looking for them."

"No, but I've heard a few other shopkeepers in this fine marketplace talkin' rumors about a man like that, though."

"From who, though?"

"The person across from me and a few stalls down was one of 'em."

"Thanks." She said, running off to said person's stall.

This stall was different from the rest in the vicinity. The person running it was a younger man, who looked about in their early 30s, annoyed and tired. He sold various basic tools, ranging from shovels to hammers to forks and everything in between.

"Hey... what brings here today?" He asked, his hand resting on his left hand, with his eyes half-shut.

"Hey... I was just wondering... have you seen that black hooded figure?"

"Sure have. They stole one of my damn hammers. Was a fine hammer, too." He sighed.

"Where they'd go, do you know?"

"I saw them steal a hammer and bolt off down there for about a quarter of a mile and then they went to an alley on the right before I had a chance to retaliate. That's all I know about where they might have gone." He said, pointing southwards.

"Alright, thanks. Can I borrow a hammer too as I go track them down? I'm looking for them."

"Oh, you know them?" He asked, his ears perking up.

"Not exactly..." She said through a grimace, looking away for a moment.

"Well, as long you get that hammer they stole back and this hammer back, in the end, I'm fine. Just give me your name first."

"Luca Pasteur."

"That's a nice name." He replied, proceeding to hastily write down the name on a nearby notebook. He promptly held up his end of the deal and handed her a hammer and wished her good luck before she left, putting her umbrella back into her backpack.

"No idea, how I'm going to use this, but I'll just have to try." She thought to herself, feeling energized.

After the words exchanged with the middle-aged man running the stall and borrowing a hammer of his, Rambone was still in the dire chase to arrest the hooded figure that felt like nothing more than hunting a dream that was already on the horizon of his vision. Turns out, it wasn't on the horizon: It was just a few feet away from him.

As he ran down through another market at all that seemed to combine, swirl, and twist into one circle of isles, he caught them just barely on his left side about probably 100 feet away coming out of a dead-end and turning left and going down the street at a fast pace, and from the lightning-quick eyeball: barely slower than his own speed.

Putting the two pieces of the puzzle together in an instant, he began running like his heart would stop beating in an instant if he stopped or slowed for even an instant and screaming at the other people in the area to stop him. "Stop them! Stop them!" He screamed repeatedly, each time sounding more and more desperate. More and more dying but with that faint sense of hope.

"Stop them! Stop them!" The words repeated in his head more than out through his mouth as his heart was pounding like a never-ending drum roll. He wanted it to stop but all the while grow louder and louder.

They quickly looked back and possibly were given a stir. A stir... a stir... a stir... Rambone couldn't process or even think of anything else as his mind only rang with the thoughts of the chase. The chase lasted for what was probably a few minutes as the two turned through multiple alleys and corners. Rambone slowly closed in on them before they got roughly 10 feet from them and they hopped on top of an overhang and quickly followed it up and by jumping once again and climbing up and over the ledge of a building.

While this moment gave him a quick sense of relief, it also deepened the sense of chaos and panic as his screams went unanswered as no person was quick enough to lend any kind of hand or leg (or handle) out and had merely ended up confused as to who that 'them' was.

Not one to lessen up on the gas pedal, he used his minor athletic prowess over them to do the same thing and keep the pressure up.

"This isn't some dang TV show..." He mumbled to himself, trying to calm himself down and make sense of what they're doing.

The hooded figure quickly jumped from building to building with an athleticism he had underestimated. He followed up with the same thing but speed up as they ran atop the buildings of the marketplace and the town. The acceleration across the roofs gave him the time and enough speed to close the distance as he whipped out the knife that Luca had previously given him from his pocket and puncture them with it in the left leg in a region near the ankle, though that came with a shocking surprise.

The knife had gotten stuck into their ankle and he was unable to be able pull it out as it became out of his reach following a hard kick from their right foot to their upper arm. It hurt his arm rather badly (not bruising it) and caused him to recoil slightly, trying to cover the now red region with the other hand.

They promptly followed up by taking out the knife from their lower leg and throwing it aside. The fight to uncover and arrest the hooded murderer had begun. And it would be much more difficult than Rambone ever thought it would be.