The man ran as fast as he could. He could faintly hear the sirens, gradually growing louder.

He silently slipped over a wall and into the darkness on the other side of it. He silently sped across the yard and past the house on the hill, across the street, passing right behind some police cars with their bright flashing lights, and then disappeared into the trees  and the woods beyond.

The man's green eyes scanned everything around him as he ran silently across the woods, not even slowing down as his slim figure squeezed easily between trees and bushes.

He stopped running. He bent down on one knee and put a hand on the ground, resting the other on his knee. He felt along the ground until he found the right spot, then pulled.

The trapdoor popped open, and the man lowered himself into the passageway, climbing down the ladder and closing the trapdoor above him. He stepped onto the floor of the cave and walked down the hallway, the ceiling of the cave high enough for him to stand up straight.

The man chuckled quietly to himself as he walked through the hallway and into a huge room. This was a great source of amusement for the man — he hid out secretly right under everyone's noses, literally. It was an underground hideout.

No one noticed him at first — he was so used to walking and running around noiselessly that he didn't even really have to try anymore — but when he sat down in the only empty seat around the wooden table, the people seated around the table did notice him.

"Hi, Artie!" A man with sky blue eyes and an American accent said, smiling. "You're back! I just made ya some tea."

Arthur looked down to see that there was, in fact, a cup of tea in front of him.

"My name isn't Artie, git," Arthur said impatiently, but he was secretly suppressing a smile. Someone had thought of him!

Of course, he wasn't Matthew. People noticed Arthur, they just didn't actually care about him.

You would think, when you are a team of people that work together to stay hidden from the law, that they would get along, or at least not treat each other badly.

It is too far from the truth.

Arthur loved to read and write. He was very proper, "gentlemanly," and managed to wear a green uniform and brown boots, even though they were fugitives. He was a rather quiet person (usually), a champion tea drinker, but a terrible cook. He was quick and slim, and consequently, he was usually the one sent to get (steal) the food and other necessities (like tea, clothes, water, coffee, and more). All the others saw him as weird, and they would discriminate against him. He was actually bullied at times, mentally and physically, by his fellow outlaws.  If course, he always fought back, so that doesn't really matter....

He spent most of his time locked up in his room, reading a (stolen) book from his (stolen) collection that was carefully alphabetized by author. He actually enjoyed his missions to go out and steal what they needed on weekdays. What the others didn't know is that he actually went to school during the days, then actually stole it all. He was brilliant at his job; he was never seen or recognized, and he always performed the robberies under the cover of darkness. His slim figure let him maneuver around and hide when needed without much difficulty.

. . .

What?  Education is important.

What a sad time it is that people get ridiculed for being smart. He can defend himself well, of course, especially against the bullies at school, who had somehow not yet learned their lesson.

The saddest part is that even when Arthur got home with everything they needed, he was still ridiculed by the other outlaws in the hideouts. Shouldn't he be treated with a little more respect?

Apparently not.

~°~

Arthur was about to leave to go to school the next morning, when he heard footsteps behind him.

He turned around, and he saw Alfred. "Oh, hello."

"Hi!" Alfred said, smiling. "Would you mind if I came with you on the mission today?"

"Uh. . .Sure. Why the sudden interest?" Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"I thought it might be fun," Alfred replied, half shrugging and still smiling brightly.

Arthur furrowed his eyebrows, and he heard Alfred snicker. Git.

"Fun?" Arthur repeated. "You don't get it, do you? It isn't fun, it's dangerous. You're an outlaw, a criminal. If they catch you, it's all over for you."

Alfred's smile didn't falter. "Exactly. Fun."

Arthur was about to reply when he realized something. Alfred was right. Arthur did enjoy it, especially the risk factor; the adventure and sense of satisfaction when he succeeded.

Arthur shrugged. "I guess you do have a point."

"Did you just agree with me?!" Alfred's eyes were wide.

Arthur rolled his eyes, smirking slightly. "Yes, yes I did," he replied. "I have to admit, it is rather enjoyable. You just need to remember our number one rule: only take what we need. Don't be tempted by anything unimportant."

"Like those books your always reading?" Alfred pointed out.

"Books are not unimportant!" Arthur yelled indignantly. Mentally, he continued the statement: they are some of the only things that keep me alive and even somewhat sane. My only distraction from reality.

"They totally are, dude," Alfred was saying. Arthur wanted to punch that grin off of he taller man's face, but forced himself to remain mostly calm. His eye twitched slightly anyway.

"They really aren't," Arthur said. "They—" he stopped himself, "—really aren't," he ended out repeating.

Alfred raised an eyebrow, knowing that that wasn't what the other was going to say, but thankfully didn't comment.

"Anyway," Arthur said after a moment, "if you really want to come. . . Well, I don't start the mission first thing. Just meet me outside by nine thirty, okay?"

Alfred shrugged. "Sure. Where do you go during the beginning of the day, then?"

Arthur glanced around to make sure they were alone, then leaned towards the taller man to whisper, "Don't tell anyone. Promise?"

Alfred looked at him weirdly, but nodded.

"I. . . I go to school."

Alfred jerked away as if he had been struck and stared at Arthur for a minute. Arthur didn't really understand why he felt so hurt be the action.

Alfred just shook his head slightly. "I don't get you." He dropped his voice to a whisper, somewhat mockingly. "Why would you want to go to school?"

"Education is important if I don't want to end out like the rest of you all. Besides, it gets me out of this place longer, and out in the real world."

"But isn't this the real world?" Alfred asked. "This is part of the world too."

Arthur just shook his head. "I know you really do understand, Alfred. You just try not to, and you've been fooling yourself as well."

Alfred didn't talk for a couple moments. It was true; he was always being made fun of, too. He liked food, but then again, so did a lot of the others. He also had stage freight that was quite bad. He was a victim because of his happy, carefree, oblivious attitude, but Arthur could always see through it. It was getting more and more convincing, however, as Alfred actually started tricking himself into believing that that's who he was.

But it wasn't.

"Don't tell, please," Alfred said.

"Of course I won't," Arthur promised. "We both know at least a bit about how the world works, and there really should be more good people in the world. In other words, people that aren't like me."

"Don't talk about yourself like that," Alfred said.

Arthur rolled his eyes and didn't say anything. But mentally, he said: But it's the truth. . .

"And does that mean you were calling me a good person?" Alfred said, mostly jokingly. However, the reply he got sounded completely serious. It surprised and confused him.

"Yes."