Ratte slipped through the door of the museum and darted towards the carriage. She could see Kai and a guard clinging onto the back and roof of the carriage, whilst Isago ran for the coach behind with a woman she didn't know. [@King Tai] The rest of the guards were taken care of; a thin cloud of smoke rising up between them and the carriage where someone had created a barrier with flames. Another man, yet again one that she hadn't seen before, ran from a tumbling pile of crates towards the carriage. [@SantosGabriel77]

She frowned, not sure exactly what to think of the situation. She couldn't think for too long. She gritted her teeth and launched herself at the carriage, flinging her body forward and slammed against the side, gripping it tightly with her hands. She gasped and winced as a shooting pain shot through her hand. Something had twisted or hit the wooden panel and was going to bruise but again she pushed it aside, focusing instead on her footing. She arranged her feet on the thin strip of wood lining the base of the carriage and reached up to grip onto a wrought iron lantern hook. The lantern itself had long since blown itself out and the cage was rattling against the side of her wrist. She narrowed her eyes at it before shouting up to Kai, "Kid! What's going on? Where's Roxy?" [@Raptra] [@KatherinWinter] 

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The commander grunted and landed with a thud after the impact of Isago's charge. He gasped, winded, and rolled onto his side, trying to catch his breath before the thieves escaped. He heard horses and footsteps trampling in every direction and frowned, watching a good half of his men turn and run after a girl dressed all in black leather. Her face looked familiar. "H-Hey!" he wheezed, "They're... they're getting away!" With several more grunts and groans, the commander got to his feet and was immediately affronted by a wall of heat. He covered his face and staggered back, coughing.

He dropped his hand and let out a long shaking breath. He was at a loss. They had the horses and the carriage and one of them had seduced his men in the opposite direction. He gripped his fist tightly and set his eyes on the retreating figures. One, two, three, four, five, six. Black, purple, orange, white. Rat, kid, snow, black, prostitute, spider. He memorized their sillhouettes and their fading features, before allowing himself to keel over and hold his aching chest. He would find them again.

 [@Sleeth]