The crisp November air is beginning to get to me. With autumn slowly transitioning to winter, it’s growing harder and harder for me to endure staying in my suit for long periods of time. It’ll be nice it the material was temperature-regulated. Since it isn’t, I guess there’s nothing more I can do about it.

I hunker against the metal scaffolding, listening to ambient noises apart from the rapid assault of the rain against the hangar’s steel walls. It echoes loudly in the closed building and drowns out all other noises.

Looking through my scope, I watch two figures move away from the private jet housed inside. One is dressed in a pilot’s uniform. The other one wears a shirt I recognise from a TV ad and costing more than my bank balance. That says a lot since my balance is considerable. Rich prick.

My earbud crackles with static before Neiv’s voice came through. The radio always has a way with distorting voices, the buttery musicality lost to ether of ones and zeroes. Or whatever the hell makes these things work.

“Wenzie, what’s your status?”

Neiv is the team’s tech expert, in charge of hacking and surveillance. Everything that can only be resolved in the tech world is her job, and she’s damn good at it. Right before she joined us, she was kicked out of her school for hacking and distributing sensitive student information following the school’s bullying scandal.

I gotta hand it to her. The kid has guts.

Returning to the task at hand, I eye the two departing figures as they get  into a car and drive out of the place. The automatic hangar doors slide close, the loud click rising above the clamour of the rainstorm.

I press the button in my watch to start the timer, knowing I only have a small window of time to do what I came here to do. I didn’t spend two hours crouching in the cold, dark corner of this place just to fail. In a minute, the building’s security feature will reactivate, making it harder for me to get in and out undetected.

“We’re clear.” I retract my scope and slid it into the zippered pocket of my skintight full-body suit.

Clutching the metal beam, I leap off, letting gravity take me for a split-second before reaching out to gain purchase in the lower level of the scaffolding. It’s like descending an upright ladder with rungs almost ten feet away. Sweet relief fill my lungs when I reach solid ground.

41 seconds left.

I cross the distance between the edges of the hangar to where the jet was parked. If there was anyone watching, I’d be worried. Thankfully, I still have more than half a minute before the cameras come back. It says something when someone deactivates the security cameras while they’re inside.

32 seconds left.

The jet has one of the latest designs released. I spent two full nights poring over its blueprint to make sure I won’t be making any mistakes tonight. I slip inside the compartment where the wheel retracts mid-flight, thankful for my slight build. Movement within the cramped space is a challenge but I manage to crawl towards the jet’s central computer system.

I another pocket in my suit and pull out a small device Neiv and Erraiel made. They way it works is simple; once plugged into the computer system, it automatically transmits all current and future data collected. While it won’t naturally bypass any security measures in place, at least Neiv can work on it from the safety of our headquarters.

“Neiv, I just plugged it in. Is it working?”

“Yeah. You can get out now.”

I glance down at my watch. 19 seconds left.

The trip back always feels longer. I shimmy hurriedly out of the compartment and retrace my steps. Gravity is against me this time as I climb upwards to the topmost level of the scaffolding and reach for my harness made invisible by the shadows. I clip it to my waist and let the automatic mechanism pull me up, bracing my legs against the walls as I ascend.

I leave the hangar the same way I came in — through the skylight. Once the timer in my watch hits zero, red laser lights crisscrossed all over the hangar’s floor. I’m also high enough that the cameras will not catch me.

Once outside, the rain pelts my skin like cold blades. I rappel down, keeping to the shadows, and run to where I stashed my clothes. The puddles I can’t avoid have soaked the insides of my boots. I really despise working in the rain.

I towel off as quick as I can and slip into long coat, grateful that the suit is waterproof at least. Twisting my hair is the best way to wring the last of rainwater soaking it, then I tie it into a low bun. Comfortable and looking decent enough, I follow the dark alleyway until it spits me out into the bustling downtown Pulstrane, a black umbrella shielding me from the downpour.

Using the crowd as my cover, I walk with the current of pedestrians to the pick-up spot. It’s instinct to look for traffic cameras to avoid. As Kalyn liked to emphasise over and over again, there’s nothing wrong with taking extra precautions.

Kalyn is our leader, the strategist and financier of all our missions. Apart from being the eldest in the group, there’s nothing more I know about her. She remains a mystery. She rarely speaks, and unlike the Neiv’s reservation that stems from her shyness, Kalyn’s is rooted on something more practical. The less we know, the better.

Not that I’ll question her. For the past four years, she provided us with something missing from our lives — a purpose. And even if we have to do it by stealing, I’m grateful.

I stop outside one of those dime-a-dozen franchised coffee shops. In this part of downtown, the streets are quieter and traffic cameras are fewer. Glancing at my watch, I realise I was almost a minute behind schedule. So was she. Where’s Erraiel?

As if to answer my question, the smooth hum of a full-powered engine turns the corner and a familiar vehicle fluidly drifts to a stop right in front of me. The door opens to the shotgun seat which I take, the wet umbrella soaking the carpeted floor of the car.

“How did it go?” Erraiel asks without glancing at me. She revs the engine and drove through the rain spattered highway, just above the speed limit.

Erraiel is our social butterfly. She’s especially skilled when it comes to people. When Kalyn first recruited her, she was turning tricks in the street and making enough money to get by. She never talks about her life before the street, but I have a hunch that she ran away from home. It’s one of the things we have in common.

“Good. Yours?”

The corner of her rouge-stained lips turns downward. “Not so bad.”

I notice that she’s still wearing a sparkling red gown from whatever social function she attended for this job. I don’t really know the details since Kalyn thought it’s better for us not to know too much about each other’s part until the briefing. It’s partly why none of us share another word for the entire ride.

There are four of us in the group, each with a different role that makes use of our strengths to achieve one goal — obtaining something someone wants so desperately that they’re willing to pay to get it.

With our rising success rate in the black market, job offers come in waves. Not every job is deemed worth the time. If it’s too risky, targets the innocent, or doesn’t pay enough, we say no. We draw the line when some of those offers demand the death of someone.

We’re thieves, not assassins.

The corporate skyscrapers made way for open air as we drove away from downtown. Outside the rain-streaked window, I watch the scenery transform from the urban metropolis to the high-end suburban boroughs with architectural designs ranging from elegant Victorians to bizarre Modernists.

Pulstrane is a big city that travelling from one end to the other takes six hours. That discounts the amount of time added when there’s traffic, which, in a city with a population of seven million, is always present.

Erraiel takes a right, straight for the house at the end of the cul-de-sac. There is no reason to suspect the house is anything but normal. Outside, it’s just like every other two-story Victorian lining the street. It’s the inside that distinguishes it from the ones in the neighbourhood. It’s still a mystery how Kalyn managed to afford such an expensive property.

The automated gates open for us and Erraiel drives us to the rear garage, I sigh in relief at the toasty warmth of the house as soon as we enter the side door.

“Welcome back, Erraiel and Wenzie. The temperature is currently at 29 degrees. Should I go higher?”

It’s Erraiel who answers her after glancing at me. “No need, Naevis. We’re good.”

Naevis is Neiv’s brainchild, an artificial intelligence that manages the house with a sentience that sometimes scares me. I can’t help but think of her as a real person whenever she talks.

Neiv is in the kitchen preparing dinner. She glances at us, gesturing with her spatula that we take a seat on the counter seats. “I made soup.”

Erraiel is the first to sit, kicking her blood-red stilettos off as she sits. “I’m famished,” she complains. “These parties I keep attending always serve so little food.”

Chuckling, Neiv serves her a large bowl of the soup along with the other dishes she prepared. Few words are exchanged. I attribute it to the post-mission low, when the adrenaline of the moment is gone and we’re left exhausted. The fervor eventually returns when it’s time for the debriefing.

I look around the room and notice someone’s not here. “Where’s Kalyn?”

Neiv shrugs.

As the leader, Kalyn’s always looking for gaps to fill. It’s not unbeknownst to us that she takes on more work than any of us — oftentimes, they are the most dangerous parts of the job. She just never mentions it. We’re used to Kalyn going off on her own without telling us. It doesn’t mean we don’t worry.

The last thing we want is to lose our leader and for the whole group to fall apart.

Erraiel, as if reading my mind, says through a mouth full of food, “Kalyn knows what she’s doing.”

“That makes one of us.”

Neiv snorts lightheartedly, then points to the empty seat beside Erraiel who’s already busy eating. “Eat, Wenzie.”

I shake my head. “I’m going to shower first.”

“Don’t take too long!” Erraiel hollers as I ascend the stairs.