Michael kept walking closer, his footsteps masked by even louder splashes crashing against the pavement.
It wouldn't be long until he was noticed, but not so soon, not just yet, Michael kept his distance, following the thief into the compound, waiting for the perfect chance to finally intervene.
Closer now, Michael was able to discern more from the culprit. They were tall, lanky, and his mind fought fiercely to dismiss it as mere coincidence - if they'd just turn around, if he could only just see their face - he still might be able to.
The thief eventually reached the entrance of the shop, a flash of lightning briefly smearing their silhouette against the rattling shutters.
Michael entertained another notion; the lock would take a while to pick loose, and expending the effort to break it would be risking discovery… yet for a thief, any typical thief… surely those were the only two options available.
We'll be coming back to present times come the next chapter or two. That's not to say Michael's origins are over and done with... perhaps I might just explore it a bit more somewhere later down the line.