“Curtains for he who stops The Saint Swippers...!”
That is the last time, Rose Luck, a useless mare and a even more useless security guard heard those words. Needless to say, Rose is at a bad time in her life where honestly, she only remembers the word 'Curtains' and failed to secure the intruder. Sometimes, she wondered why luck even her name. She should have been called Rose Suck... Why? Because everything was going to suck and hurt and bleed all over the concrete.
A unicorn, robed and wearing a goofy-looking mask (compared to the sinister ones in the museum he's robbing) whisper-shouts, “And this fate will be yours!” before his magic threw her to the side. Sounds simple, right? It's the side. During the brief pause of the magic reaches her fur, she stupidly thought back to all those cops and robbers books she read as a kid... Right to that paragraph in the middle of the story, usually dry but leads to the climax of ze robbery of ze phantom thief. There's always that part when the residing guards are thrown to the side and the thief gets away.
Of course, the same reference could be made for romance books where the big, firm stallion throws the leading mare to the side and ravishes her... She's a fan of those books too but getting back to the point at hand.
Rose has been thrown to the side. Just like those one-note characters that don't deserve names. The side. And if this was a book, she should have acted like a main character and did the main character thing. She could've fought back and made something of herself! Why couldn't she punch the flake in the jaw and called for back-up? Why couldn't she leapt out of his magic range and ambushed him and his group down another hallway?
She could see all of the possibilities of her putting the thief in his place or her getting rescued at the last moment by her co-workers that turned out to actually like her. She might of even got a raised because how many security guards hold their own against master-class thieves. Not many.
Except the side, yeah that side, she's been thrown to is a window.
Not a wall or a door or the floor. Great things that the thief could have chosen. Instead, he's chosen a window which says a lot about him. After all, she didn't see his face or even said two words to the guy. She didn't deserve to be thrown out a window by some street-pole of a stallion with a rose fetish. Here's a tip for the future, sowing pink petal ruffles on your black mask defeats the purpose of staying hidden.
But of course, she's not just making a big deal out of being tossed out the window like trash. That's rude. She's not rude. Rose could be mean or petty or sassy on any day but she's never been rude. But the window is on the third floor. The third floor. And you know, what does that say about this supposedly great phantom thief, indirectly committing murder via innocent windows. That doesn't sound noble or sexy of someone in the role of a grand, seductive cat burglar.
With no horn or wings, she's a goner.
“Yours...” She heard him repeat in that awful lisp of his as she plummeted to her death. That lisp all stallions make when they try poorly to sound mysterious and sexy at the same time.
At least when the Guard finds her corpse, it will have a smile.
"Boss, it looks like our lovely captive has awoken. Shall I gag her, Mr. One?"
Damn it.