As an independent street kid with no schedule, Short Round usual woke when he wanted to. However, that still ended up being rather early since the city rose with the sun and he was a light sleeper. So he took the opportunity to sleep in today, rising a little before noon. Because of their late night, his companions let him sleep in. When he awoke, Dr. Jones was already out. Wu Han informed him that Indy had some business to take care of and would meet Short Round at the Gung Ho Bar at two that afternoon. Then he told the boy that he needed to acquire his waiter disguise and prepare to infiltrate the club, so Shorty would be on his own.

  "Okay, Wu Han. I need to do stuff today, too."

Before Wu Han could ask what "stuff" was, the energetic eleven-year-old bolted out the door.

First order of business was to find breakfast. That was easily bought with the money Short Round had won from playing poker with Indiana. With it, he purchased two sweet buns. He relished the lightly sugary treat happily as he walked to one of his many jobs. 

The opium dens didn't pay much, but it gave him enough to survive this long. They were mostly active at night, so Short Round didn't have much to do during the day. He helped customers from the night before, sleeping off the affects. He gave them water, walked them to the rickshaws, and guarded their possessions for the smallest coin. Those who wasted all their money on opium couldn't give much more. 

That was all right, though, because managing the opium dens wasn't his only profession. Above all else, Short Round was a thief. A pickpocket, to be more specific. 

For the next two hours, many innocents found themselves the victim of a child pickpocket. He didn't find a fortune, however. Locals were too careful. Tourists didn't pass by the opium dens much, and they were either paranoid or extremely lax. There was no in between. 

Once, he picked the pocket of a seemingly wealthy foreigner and was rewarded with a fat wallet. Then another boy, bigger and older, working at the opium den fought him for it. He ran off with the wallet along with a black eye and bloody nose to show for it while Short Round remained unscathed. Oh well. Today was still a good day because he was soon to leave Shanghai for America with his new friends. 

Speaking of which, it was probably time to meet Indiana Jones. He briskly walked out of the Place of Doves over to the Gung Ho Bar. In the back booth, sipping some ginseng tea as he waited, was the man himself. The American stood out in the quiet bar, but he tried to make up for it by lowering his hat over his face. 

Short Round eagerly ran up to him, unaware of the shocked expression on the bartender's face. It only lasted a second before he shrugged and continued minding his own business. 

  Indy squinted at him. "You're late, kid." 

The archeologist's seriousness had no effect on the boy.

  "Sorry. I was working."

  Indiana raised an eyebrow suspiciously as he could guess what the kid meant by "work." Yet, he made no comment and handed over the money as slyly as he could. "Remember what you're supposed to do?"

  "Yep! I get car, I buy tickets, then I wait for you at the club."

  "Right out front. An hour before dawn. You got a watch?"

  "Sure." He didn't, but he knew how to acquire one. 

  "Good. Now get going, I've got to meet a man about a box," he added as lightly as he could.

When Short Round told them about the car service, he wasn't lying about them not minding if he used a car and paid them for it. They just couldn't give him the keys or catch him take it or they would have to call the authorities. 

He crawled under parked cars, using his arms to push himself forward. He picked a cream colored car he deemed as fancier than the others. Indy would say he was smart, selecting a fancy car to wait in front of an expensive club, but really Short Round just wanted to take it out for a spin. 

He picked the lock and opened the drivers side. Then he slid under the dash to hot-wire the car. It was easy to wire and after crossing a few leads, the engine roared to life. 

From inside his faded blue coat, the boy pulled out a pair of boxes with string and tied them to his feet. The added inches gave him the length he needed to reach the pedals. He could barely see over the steering wheel, but that didn't stop him from turning out of the yard and onto the road. 

The sun was bright orange and sinking below the horizon when he arrived at the airport. The British airport official gazed down at the tiny Chinese boy wearing a baseball cap skeptically. 

  "You want three tickets to where?" the man named Weber asked. 

  "Bangkok, Thailand."

  "I hardly think I can sell to a person of your... stature." He glanced at the boxes under Short Round's shoes again.

  The street kid waved half of Indiana's money under his nose. "I no buy. For Dr. Indiana Jones, famous archeologist. I his assistant."

  Recognizing the name, Weber reluctantly took the money. "I'll see what I can do, but I can't guarantee I can get you three seats on such short notice."

Short Round slipped Weber the other half of the money with a wink as a bribe. He also pulled aside his jacket to show him the handle of his small knife. Weber was more amused by the threat than anything, not certain of what to think of this young gangster. He simply accepted the extra money and nodded knowingly.

  "Good business with you." Short Round touched the rim of his baseball cap in salute as he had seen Indy do with his brown fedora. He hobbled away, leaving the official to reflect on the strange day he was having. 

He still had many hours left until one. Now was a good time as any to claim that watch. 

The Tai-Phung Theater was the perfect place. After parking the car a few blocks away, Short Round slipped into the theater unnoticed to avoid paying for a ticket. The theater was projecting an American cowboy film that he had seen before. He sat in an empty seat behind a rich-looking couple. 

Scoring the woman's purse was too easy. She had left it between their two seats and while they were both engrossed with the film, he snatched it. The purse itself was expensive, but the inside had little of value. Most of it was beauty products and a coin purse. It would be the husband or boyfriend or escort who would have all the money and the watch. 

So he snuck off into the shadows and waited a few moments before limping to the woman's seat. He grasped the arm of her chair for support, which made her jump, and he breathed heavily as if out of breath. 

  "Lady, big man steal your purse. I catch him and take it back for you. He got away." Short Round dropped the purse at her feet and made a show of holding his ribs and trying to catch his breath. 

  "You poor, brave thing," the woman cooed, checking her purse to be sure none of her belongings were stolen. The man with her was a bit more suspicious. 

  "Shhh," he hushed and tugged her arm as a signal to ignore the distraction. He knew what this street urchin wanted and he didn't want to be pressured by an audience. 

  "Please, dear. The boy's hurt!"

Short Round whimpered to give him the final push over the edge. Finally, the man stood and fished out his wallet. He gave Short Round two dollars.

  "Thanks." 

Short Round brushed passed the man as he limped out of the theater. Once safely outside, he straightened and ran for the car with his prize of two dollars and a handsome pocket watch. 

With one dollar, he bought dinner. He slurped up the bowl of noodles as fast as his chopsticks would allow. The warm meal calmed the grumbling monster of a stomach. The other dollar he gave to a begging old woman that he had seen before. She had always been kind to him and this was his last chance to help her. 

It began to rain lightly, so Short Round returned to the car. Under the nightlife of the city, Short Round read the time on his new pocket watch. Wu Han had been teaching him numbers. The little hand was on the eight and the big hand was on the twelve. If his mathematics were correct, he had five hours left until he had to meet Wu Han and Indy at Club Obi-Wan. 

He spent four of those hours napping inside the warm car. Then he drove to the club and waited. The doorman tried to make him move, but Short Round gave him the timepiece and the man agreed to let him wait there. 

Bored and his curiosity calling, Short Round decided to sneak in and see what this club was all about. Telling the doorman he had to relieve himself, Short Round ran off and snuck back hidden in the shadows, leaving his jacket in the car. The doorman was too engrossed in his new treasure to notice the boy sneaking inside. 

The club rather spacious and very fancy. It was mostly white with tables surrounding a large stage where women in way too short dresses, both white and Chinese, danced and sang. The air smelled of cigarettes and mouthwatering food. He wove through the people, observing the colorful dresses and expensive tuxedos. All the glamour and wealth was something he saw very little of in his short life. 

He only allowed himself a few seconds of ogling. He scanned the area amongst the laughing people and flowing champagne until his eyes finally landed on a table close to the stage where three serious Chinese men in black suits sat. The older man was tapping his finger anxiously and checked his watch every so often. Short Round stared at them for a moment before he turned to leave. 

Among the waiters on his way out, he recognized Wu Han. The Dutch-Chinese man's eyes followed him, though he kept his expression neutral. 

As Short Round hurried to the exit, he bumped into a tall man in a white suit and pants. He glanced up at him. The boy managed to not let any expression betray his recognition as a hand grabbed his collar. 

The doorman urged him out the door, quietly scolding him in their native tongue. Short Round shot back with insults as he was shoved outside. Stumbling a bit, Short Round regained his footing and with a final swear under his breath, he retuned to the car to wait. 

Indy was in the club now. The plan was in motion. They would need him soon. Once this was done, they would be on their way to America and a new life.

Author's note: A lot of inspiration for this chapter came from James Kahn's Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom novel. I changed it up quite a bit, but I felt like I should still give credit.