HIS NAME WAS ATTICUS. A deep blue Zafara, with grey serious eyes, he looked average in size. From looks alone, he was pretty normal, but not normal in his unseen habits. He devoured sugar as a car devours gasoline. He loved commenting on other pet's lifestyles, but that, he reasoned, was because he thought too much. He loved to think, and solve his mysteries; his mysteries of reasons of why things happened, why something worked. But mostly he loved thinking about why people and pets alike, did what they did. He liked his method of living. Day by day, going outside, traveling to a new part of town, watching people.

 Today, he was slinking around the shops in Neopia Central, specifically, the bazaar. There he watched the hustle and bustle of Neopian commerce, people and their pets scrambling and racing for a chance to by a rare or valuable item. He watched as one person, who was wearing camping gear, stood outside the Chocolate Factory. He was crying about being banned. Atticus figured he had been trying to get the newest inventory one too many times. Atticus felt that the ban was justified. He was against people fighting so hard to get these rare items. He felt that because they take them first, it makes it harder for the ones who need the item, to afford it, as the restockers would jack up the prices.

 He shuffled further into town, coming across the mysterious Money Tree. It smelled better here, now that the mayor passed a bill that had all the dung put in the Second Hand Shoppe. Atticus saw many people, new faces, familiar faces, and all their pets, all clamouring for free junk.

 "Funny how people will almost kill each other just for a common 1np item...are they desperate, or just greedy?" Atticus said to himself.

 His stomach started feeling hungry again, and so he decided to start heading home to eat something.

 Once he got home, he took out some Lime Jelly out of his fridge. He sat at his table, and looked out the window, and watched the people in the café across the street.

 She was there again, sitting at a table. She was an Aisha, and she was kind to everyone around her. Atticus would occasionally see her pay the tab for other café patrons, for no apparent reason. But she would always be there, from 9 to 5. He suspected that she probably worked there, considering the times, and she would sometimes wear a waitress's dress.

 Atticus had had his eye on her for awhile now. She was a person he found special... But he, as always, would over-analyze anything that he wanted to say to her. He felt it was awkward, and he chickened out. So, her merely watched from a distance. Atticus longed for her eyes to look into his with a reason, not the glancing stares.

 'You can't keep staring at her,' he thought to himself. He shook himself out of it and decided that now would be a good time to start exploring for new places, to study new groups of people.

After an hour of aimlessly walking, Atticus came to a sign. He looked up and read it. "GLADDO's BBQ GRILL" it read, in large crimson letters.

 "A restaurant, a hub of social activity... but it seems too expensive," he murmured as he pressed his nose up to the glass, eying the sweet and sugary cake that someone had ordered for dessert. The customer was wearing the most fancy dress he had ever seen, but being who he was, Atticus only noticed that the Wocky wearing it was worried, grinning a fake smile. Her eyes were fixated on her date, a very imposing Fire painted Krawk.

 "She must be doing this date out of fear of disappointing him... but why?" he pondered, but was distracted by the reflection off the window, of the girl whom he loved to watch; she had just passed behind him and entered the restaurant.

Thinking quickly, he rushed into the restaurant to try and catch up with her, but he stopped. He hadn't seen it at first, but the restaurant was brand new, its first day in business. What was odd was that there were no patrons waiting for tables, yet when he looked in the window, the place was full. Even stranger was the fact that nobody was leaving.

 'This isn't right,' he thought. 'I want to figure out what isn't matching up.' Through the window, he saw the girl take her seat, right where that uncomfortable Wocky once was... but the creepy Krawk was still there.

 He leaned up against a nearby building, keeping an eye on the girl. That Krawk was simply too suspicious.

Twenty minutes later, the waiter brought out the cake; the same cake that was served to the Wocky that disappeared. The girl was nervous, and clearly didn't want to be in that situation. Atticus saw her get up, but before she could even slide out of the booth, the Krawk grabbed her menacingly. He hurt her.

 Atticus couldn't believe it. He had to stop this.

 For one of the few times in his life, he acted without thinking it through first. He dashed through the doors, nearly knocking down the waiter as he tried to greet him. He caused quite a commotion, and it attracted the Krawk's attention.

 The Krawk stood up, letting go of her arm, but was still blocking her way out. "What's this here ruckus all 'bout, sir?" commanded the Krawk.

 "Let her go, you have no reason to hurt her," growled Atticus.

The Krawk looked blankly at him for a split second, then dashed away screeching loudly as he ran, running as fast as a Krawk could run. After the commotion, Atticus turned and saw the girl, just as confused about the situation as he was.

 "Come on," he held out his paw to help her up, "I'll walk you home."

 "Thank you for stopping that evil Krawk." She took his offered paw and stood up. "I think he was trying to poison me... he started acting weird when the cake came," she explained.

 Atticus listened intently. She had finally noticed him!

PART 3

 *ding*

 Amy punched her time card and left the café. “Bye Flo,” she yelled on her way out the door. She hurried across the street, eager to see what sort of interesting task Atticus was planning up for her.

 Knocking firmly on the door, she promptly heard a *thud* and the fluttering of paper. The door opened, and Atticus invited her in.

 Atticus cleared off the couch for her to sit on. “So, I’m glad you could make it. Ready for your briefing?” he asked excitedly.

 “Haha, briefing? You say it as though we were spies,” she smiled.

 “Ah, indeed.” He walked over to a large fallen stack of yellow folders.

 “What happened to the stacks of folders?” she questioned.

 “Oh, I bumped into them from excitement when you knocked.” He pulled a dark yellow folder from the wreckage. “Here, this is the folder on the Thief Guild. You should study up on that one. I think that our Skeith friend is also a member.”

 She opened up the folder. It was filled with papers with photos paper-clipped to them, mostly of people who were wearing the guild insignia; many were group photos. The notes included a small manual. It read ‘Thief Code’ in large, black letters.

 “That handbook is the most recent copy of the Thieves Code. It is delicate, here, let me get you the photocopy.” He walked over to the bookcase. “I found it on one thief that I was able to catch myself. It is very resourceful.” Pulling out a stapled packet, he gave it to her. She skimmed through the pages.

 “Wow, these thieves are very strict... wait...” she paused on a page with a black and white photo of a young and gruff Gelert. “This is the guy who skipped out on the bill!” She sprang up and showed it to Atticus. “The caption says that his name is Walter, and he is famous for having over 2,000 charges of petty theft!”

 “Walter... ah, yes, there should be a file on Walt. I was hired to try and find him, but the company suddenly decided to have me drop the case. The guild probably found out...” He pulled a yellow folder form the middle of a stack of folders. “Here is your sammich thief.”

 Amy opened the folder, looking inside. A name immediately caught her eye. “Canon... that is my last name. Yes, I’m sure of it now. This is my uncle!” she shouted.

 “Really?” Atticus rushed over to take a look for himself. “Well, that solves one puzzle.”

 “How?” she asked.

 “Well, I need you to see if you can arrange a meeting with him; I need to talk to him. And it would be wisest if you tell him that I have paid for his tab. That should let him know that he can trust me.” Atticus gave Amy the money for the sandwich.

 “Okay, thanks. I will call my mother, she is always keeping in touch with my uncle,” she replied, pocketing the money and standing up. “Anything else you need me to do?”

 Atticus gave her a steno pad and pen. “I will need you to interview people in the area, and ask them if they know anything about the restaurant, the Skeith, the Krawk, or these tickets. Get them to tell you as many details as you can get. Good notes are important,” he warned, as he walked her to the door and opened it for her.

 “Can do! I’ll leave you a note telling you any information I can get on the meeting with Walter.” She waved her goodbye.

 Atticus waved back with a smile, but a limping Wocky behind Amy caught his attention.

 “Amy, come on, we have to help this Wocky. I remember her from that restaurant,” he exclaimed as he dashed past Amy, grabbing her hand and pulling her to the Wocky.

Atticus and Amy dashed over and caught the stumbling Wocky. Her blue fur was matted and dirty, as though she had been outdoors for days.

 “What happened to you?” asked Amy.

 “Yeah, I saw you at the new Gladdo’s Restaurant, but then you mysteriously disappeared!” added Atticus.

 She groaned. “Uhh... ow, I remember the restaurant, and the cake, but... the Krawk was acting weird... Then I woke up, being dragged through a vacant lot two blocks over. This large Skeith had apparently left me there to die. I... I’m so hungr...” She passed out from fatigue before she could finish.

 “What should we do?” asked Amy.

 “I will go check out this vacant lot for clues to who this Skeith really is,” he answered, standing up. “I need you to take the Wocky to my house and take care of her; you have unlimited access to the food in the pantry, and try to keep her awake.”

 “Will do!”

 Atticus started sprinting against the traffic, to get to the lot.

Once Atticus arrived at the scene of the crime, the first things he saw were the large and heavy footprints of a Skeith. There was also a large pile of trash bags... small, unfilled trash bags. ‘Unfilled? But why would anyone waste so many trash bags?’ he wondered, as he poked one with a stick. It was filled with the contents of a standard restaurant trash can; the preparation food scraps. ‘I have seen that Skeith take out the trash at the restaurant at least once,’ he thought. “Maybe he takes out the trash, even when it doesn’t need to be take out, just as an excuse as to why he is out here,” Atticus reasoned out loud. He found the start of the poor Wocky’s unsteady footprints. She had been placed in the pile of unfilled trash bags.

 -x-x-x-

 Amy gently placed the Wocky on the couch, so she would have a nice soft place to recover. She woke up as Amy was walking away to go fix her a meal, to help her recover from her starvation.

 “Where am I?” she moaned.

 “You are safe. You’re in my friend’s house; we want to help you.”

 “Thank you very, very much!”  Her voice was regaining its strength.

 Amy was almost finished making the sandwich when she heard a knock on the door. As she walked past the Wocky, she handed her to sandwich, and proceeded to open the door.

 It was Atticus, still catching his breath. “That meeting with your uncle is really important,” Atticus said, walking into the house.

 “I will call my mother to see how she is doing in arranging the meeting.”

 “Okay, and how is our gust?”

 “Oh, I’m feeling much better. Thank you for saving me.”

 “Heh, no problem. I recognized you immediately from the restaurant, and I was wondering if you could give me very detailed accounts as to what happened while you were there. If you can’t remember, don’t fret; we can work around that. The last thing you need is more stress and pressure.”

 Amy interrupted. “My mom says he is with her right now, but he is not agreeing to a meeting in person.”

 “Can he get to the phone?”

 She asked her mother, who replied positively. Atticus picked up the other phone, and asked to speak with Walker privately. He agreed.


 PART 4

 “Hello? Is this Walter?”

 “Yes,” the other replied in his gruff voice.

 “Is your end of the line secure? We can’t have phone tappers listening to this conversation.”

 “Of course!  I always make sure that my end is as safe as it can be.”

 Atticus reached for the copy of the Thief Code handbook. “Ah, as directed by the modified vory zakone, that we both follow.”

 “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

 “Oh no, but you do. And as a fellow thief, I need your help.”

 “I cannot help you.”

 “But right here, in the code, it says that you should help other thieves! You wouldn’t break the code now, would you?”

 “What code?”

 “Oh, yes, you must think I’m not a thief...”

 “You don’t look or act like one.”

 “But I follow the code too, and I helped you out. I paid for your sandwich tab that you skipped out on. It would have been a mistake not to pay, so I covered for you.”

 “Thank you. But I doubt you.”

 “It would be in your best interest to help me.”

 “Why?”

 “Because you don’t follow Rule One of the code.”

 “I love my sister.”

 “I know, but I will report you for failure to follow the code if you do not assist me.”

 “You are evil.”

 “I’m an information thief.”

 “Same difference. My sister will arrive at your house to pick you up. We will then meet in secrecy in a safe location.”

 “Agreed, my friend.”

 “You have my promise.”

 Atticus hung up the phone, and told Amy what the situation was. He explained to Amy that while he was gone, she was to start interviewing the cafe patrons, and get more information on the Skeith and how his actions could relate to the Krawk.

 He told her not to worry one bit about him while he was gone with the Gelert.

“What was this about you being a thief? And what part of the code is he not following?” she asked before he left.

 “I can’t say that, as I am now bound by the code to keep secret information secret. But I will tell you when I get back,” he explained, picking up the original copy of the thief code. “I’m taking this just in case he needs more information.” He opened the door and walked out, calling out “Good bye, and good luck!” as he shut it behind himself.

 “What is going on?” asked the Wocky.

 “Oh, don’t worry, Atticus is just doing his job. I can guarantee that he will find who did this to you,” she reassured.

 “Oh, okay. My name is Emily, by the way,” she replied with a smile, as she was feeling much better.

 “Okay Emily, I will need you to leave me your contact information before you go, in case of any emergency situations.”

 -x-x-x-

 Amy’s mother arrived to meet Atticus at the cafe, and she silently led the Zafara to a remote location. Nothing was spoken between the two, and Atticus couldn’t quite figure out why... but he figured it was for the best.

 She led him deep into the uncharted forests that grew near the city, unexplored due to the danger and mystery that surrounded the forest.

 After what felt like a mile, Atticus spotted Walter, hiding out in a makeshift camp. “Ah, so we now see face to face, with the truth in our minds,” greeted Walter.

 “The truth is always unobtainable. You can only bring light to a little part of each other’s dark lies,” Atticus explained. “The mind is simply too deep.”

 “Indeed. Trust is what defines one’s feeling of truth.”

 Amy’s mother excused herself, and left back to her home. “I will be taking you to a much more appropriate place to talk,” said Walter. “I will have to blindfold you.”

 “I can trust you won’t do anything stupid while I am blindfolded, right?”

 “You have my word.”

 “Good.” Atticus fidgeted with the Thief Code book in his pocket. Then, all went dark.

 Atticus could feel his body being moved, but he has lost his sense of orientation. After about half-an-hour, he saw light again. But it was artificial light, light from the ceiling of an abandoned store house.

 “Welcome to de guild,” Walter greeted.

 “How kind of you to bring me here,” thanked Atticus.

 “Aye, but we aren’t even INSIDE!” he said.

 Walter walked over to the center of the floor, and knocked. A hollow thud replied to his knocking. Then, out of nowhere, a large trapdoor flung open, revealing stairs to what seemed to be a system of ancient caves or a mine.

 They both walked down the long stairs to a cool corridor. Atticus was led through a long stretch of dimly lit cave-like hallways, until they finally arrived at a large oak door. Walter unlocked it, and inside was a room similar to a motel, but with a lot more space.

 “’Tis my quarters. I gottit since I end up stayin’ ‘ere a lot,” he explained as he turned on the lamp. “So, what information do you need?”

 Atticus sat down in the chair that was sitting in the middle of the floor.

-x-x-x-

 Amy had two customers to take care of. She went to Table 4 to attend to the two ladies, who were gossiping. “My, what can I do for you ladies?” she asked, pulling out her notepad to take their orders.

 “Oh, nothing much, we are going to Gladdo’s restaurant for dinner tonight and we don’t want to spoil our appetites for that lovely meal,” said the Royal Korbat, smiling at her Acara friend.

 “Yes, I will just have a salad if you please,” said the other, closing her menu.

 ‘Gladdo’s? But that is that restaurant run by that darn Krawk!’ thought Amy. “Sure thing,” she said, putting her restaurant notepad away and taking out her notebook for the investigation. “I need to interview you about that restaurant, is that okay?” she asked the ladies.

 “Um… sure, I guess.”

 “I don’t see why not, why? What happened?”

 Amy explained the situation to the two ladies.

“Ooh my! How horrible!” said the Grey Acara.

 “How do we know you aren’t just some restaurant jealous of Gladdo’s success, and are trying to get it shut down!” steamed the Korbat. Amy was shocked at her reaction. “We had nice plans to dine with the manager for free tonight. You should be ashamed for trying to spoil our dinner!” she continued.

 Amy didn’t know what to do at that moment, but she knew that she had to keep the girls from getting to the restaurant. She didn’t want them to get hurt.

 “If you will excuse us, we will be leaving this place now.”

 “No, you are in serious danger!” Amy pleaded. The door’s bell rang as the door swung open, and Amy turned to see who had entered. In the doorway stood a meek Royal pet, who had lost her elegance. “EMILY!” Amy exclaimed.

 “What is going on?” Emily asked, confused at the sudden situation.

 “I need you to explain to these people about what happened to you at Gladdo’s!” Amy said from across the room as Emily approached the three. Emily shuddered at the sight of the purple tickets.

 -x-x-x-

 Atticus started typing up some notes on some back story on the thief guild. “Thanks for letting me use your typewriter; I like this model.”

 Walter chucked. “Aft’r seein’ yah type up a storm at de café, I figure dat you ‘ave lotsa skill wit dem.”

 Atticus looked around the carved out room. “Do you know of any information about a large Green Skeith that is working with a Fire Krawk on a thief ring in Neopia Central? The Krawk is running a restaurant, and is breaking the code himself by running the restaurant. I believe that is in direct violation of Code Three,” Atticus remarked as he took out the handbook. Walter knew this too.

 “Yes, that Krawk is an outsider, he tries to fit in with the thief guild, but he is banished for being too much of a liability. He doesn’t always make good decisions.” Walter stood up, walking to his bookshelf behind Atticus, who was furiously typing. “Now that Skeith, he is starting to be broken by the Krawk,” Walter recalled.

 “Do you mean broken as in made loyal?” asked Atticus.

 The Gelert nodded, and Atticus typed that onto his notes. Walter stood up, stepping up closer to Atticus. The Zafara could sense his malice. “Say, ar’ you really a guild membah?” The Gelert looked at him suspiciously. “You ‘avn’t got no signs of membah-ship. I’m gunna check your story,” he said, and pulled out a large book, grey from dust.

 Atticus froze. He wasn’t a member, and Atticus didn’t want to get himself killed for being a traitor, or a spy.

 “I do qualify for membership here,” Atticus reasoned.

 “But are you a membah?” Walter looked up from the tome of guild membership.

 “Not right now, but I would like to get in. Can you arrange that for me?” Atticus walked up to Walter and the book.

 “I doub’t it; you’re new and imposin’.” Walter shut the book, creating a cloud of dust.

 “Then give me time, about two days, and I will prove to you my value,” Atticus offered, starting to finish his notes.

 “You ‘ave two days. Otherwise, you best pr’tend we don’t exis’t,” he warned. “Now it be time for you to leave.” He grabbed the blindfold, noticeably angry, and Atticus saw only darkness.

 Atticus awoke on his couch, being poked by Amy. “Are you going to wake up?” she asked.

 “Umhm mmnmn,” he groaned. “How did I end up here? My head hurts…” he rubbed the top of his skull.

 “I found you slumped up against your door, so I brought you inside.” She gave him her notepad, and he looked at it. “I interviewed everybody, and took notes,” she explained as he flipped through the pages.

 Atticus skimmed through the notebook. She had taken superbly detailed notes; information as to what the interviewee looked like, how they encountered the tickets, any memory, memory gaps, and any story bits that were changed. The amount of raw data made him ecstatic.

 “These notes, they amaze me.” He gaped at the length of the details.

 “I get lots of note taking practice from being a waitress,” she gleefully claimed. “I counted 22 people who were given tickets by the Skeith, and ten people who were given the tickets from a friend who decided not to go. 30 people didn’t have tickets. I was able to convince 13 people with tickets not to go.” She rattled off data like she was playing Math’s Nightmare.

 “Whoa, hold on, this isn’t Lenny Conundrum here. Write it down.” He handed her the notepad back with a pen, and she quickly scribbled it down.

 After Atticus had gathered all the data, he laid it all out on the floor.

“What are you doing now?” asked Amy, looking quizzically at the grid of papers that had been laid out.

 “I’m going through all the data, and looking for connections.” He stood up and walked over to a strange structure on his wall that looked like it was covered in thumb tacks and colored string. “There will be used to plot the connections,” he continued, removing a pair of thumb tacks that were connected by blue string from the magnetic strips on the wall, and crouching over the papers.

 “See here? These two customers are both royal pets, and they were directly given tickets.” He stuck the tacks into the paper, and connected the two sheets with blue string. “Here is another royal pet, with the same circumstance,” he added, sticking a tack with blue string into that page as well, connecting the three.

 Amy watched curiously as Atticus started poking the tacks into the paper and connecting all the pages with colored string. He connected a lot of data, and about thirty minutes later Atticus stood up to look at the big picture, which looked oddly like a large lump of colored twine.

 “Okay, what I see is that the Skeith personally targets the painted pets to give the tickets to… probably because painted pets usually have much more money, so the Krawk and Skeith target them for more profit from their scam.” He walked to the other side of the twine lump. “There is also a correlation between the witnesses’ description of where they encountered the Skeith.” He pulled the red string that connected that information, pulling a few papers up. Reading them, he remarked, “I mean, in front of the Weapon Shop, in front of the gourmet dining hall, and mostly in front of the Bank.”

 “Locations where people with lots of money tend to be?” suggested Amy.

 “Yes indeed. Let’s go see if we can’t pin him down,” said Atticus as he stood up, walking to his closet.

 “How are we going to catch him?” asked Amy. “He is a very slippery figure!”

 “I have something that will take care of that…” Atticus rummaged through his closet, and pulled out a trap.