PHOENIX

The plan was simple.

Get in, manipulate a few idiots, steal some diamonds, and get out. But then my sister just had to appear out of thin air and fuck up one of our biggest heists.

And she wonders why I never visited her in the past eight years.

The day started off normal, giving no sign of the looming disaster. I got up, kicked some ass, readied precautions in case one of the crew members decided to betray us, and then geared up for our big heist of the year. It wasn't until evening time that I was standing on the roof of a failing building, looking down at the bank across the street.

The sun was starting to set on the city of Chicago and guards patrolled the streets. I had no doubt at least a few of them carried the tattoo of a raven carrying a crown in it's beaks on their forearms, though they were properly hidden under their uniforms.

I looked out over the cityscape and checked the time in my shoddy watch before bending down and getting ready to jump. I had no clue where the others were since we carried no communications device to this specific heist. Didn't want the guards catching whiff of our signals. We could only go based on time and hope everyone was ready for their part.

Right on cue, a blast exploded down the street. A building not too far off tumbled to the ground and people spilled into the street as plume of dust rose in the air. I spotted a boy with green eyes, someone on my own crew who set off the bomb with precision, run up to one of the guards. I couldn't hear Brandon, but I knew he was acting out the play I wrote for him and the men on the stage.

As if they were a part of this theatre themselves, a few of the guards broke away from the others and ran into the dust to save an imaginary crippled uncle. I couldn't stop the corners of my lips from quirking up. People were so easy to manipulate, especially those who thought they were invincible.

I backed up a few feet and darted across the rooftop and jumped off the edge. The guards below didn't notice the ghost soaring through the sky as the dust cloud spread and settled the bank in a strange fog. The setting sun shone mirages through the cloud, making things appear that weren't there. The guards left would have a hard time figuring out if there were truly people around them, or even that the explosion was planned. Building collapses weren't as common in Chicago as other cities in Concorde, but they weren't strange either.

I hunched down on the bank's roof, hiding between the ledge and a brick wall for cover from a camera, and peered down. Like clockwork, one of the guards returned from the fallen building and rejoined their crew. They exchanged a few words and, after a few glances at the gloomy wreckage, one of the guards opened his Tab to communicate with his seniors.

I pulled out a little black box with two buttons and pressed down on one. The small, old screen blinked for a few seconds before the words "Signals Sensed" appeared on the screen. I held down the button again until the words "All Signals Jammed" flashed red.

The guards below tapped furiously at their Tabs as the holographic screens showed only static colors. The guard who came back from the fallen building exchanged a few more words with the man—something along the lines of "I'll go check what the fuss is about"—and darted through the bulletproof glass doors of the bank.

And, just like that, one of our girls, Tressa, was in.

Now, it was my turn. I tied my red hair and hid it underneath my hood before placing my thick, black mask above my nose. I scurried across the rooftop, trying to stick to the shadows not to hide but rather for show. Let them think they were beating me at my own game. Let them think they were unstoppable and always successful in their jobs. They'll be crying over their own egos by the end of the hour.

When I reached the middle area of the roof, I waited. It was in a blind spot so no one knew what I was up to, and was conveniently right above the bank's large safe. That was poor planning on the bank's part if you ask me.

I pulled out a second device—an explosive which Brandon made specifically for this situation—and let the seconds tick by, waiting for the time I made Lucas, another boy on our crew, so meticulously calculate. It would take Tressa approximately 5 minutes and 32 seconds for her to reach the security control room, divert the guards, knock out a few others, and switch the toxic gas released upon emergency for something which looked identical but was non-lethal.

As soon as the time passed, I leaped across the rooftop, still staying in the blind spots so that no cameras caught me moving away from the grand vault and estimated approximate location of a back hallway instead. I placed the explosive on the roof and tossed another in the general direction of the vault before taking a few steps back and letting them detonate at the same time.

The explosion rocked the roof, threatening to make it fall, but I didn't recruit Brandon for nothing. He adjusted the bomb's power to break through the thick roof of the bank but not let it collapse.

As soon as the bombs went off, two columns of orange burst through the air, filling the roof with what should've been toxic chemicals. They clouded my vision, making it hard to see. Fortunately for me, I knew exactly where I needed to be going. Unfortunately for the guards, they wouldn't discover the second hole in the roof over the hallway unless they fell straight through it.

After taking in a breath to make sure the gas wasn't toxic and Tressa succeeded, I jumped through the ginormous hole I blew in the ceiling. I landed on a white tiled floor though it was tainted orange in the gas. Running to a single black door in the narrow hallway, I pulled out my lock picks and set to work on the metal door. I couldn't see much in the gas, but an expert thief didn't need much to pick a simple lock. The door swung open in seconds.

I dashed into the room, shutting the door behind me. As expected, it was empty. Flipping on a dreary light, I looked around the cramped custodial closet. There wasn't much to see here, but I knew the bank like the back of my hand due to a few innocent visits and the large sum I paid a very eager informant.

Pushing aside the never used cleaning equipment, I discovered another lock placed right in the middle of the wall. Taking a few extra seconds to pick it, I swung the door of the hidden safe open.

Inside sat piles of beautiful blue cash. I grabbed a stack and felt the familiar smoothness of real cash. I ran a thumb across the edge of the stack making the cash through the air like the pages of a book and inhaling the fresh scent they released. It was the scent of power.

God, I loved my job.

However, cash was still the impractical choice. Despite public assumption, cash is quite heavy and just carrying enough money to satiate our needs was time consuming, forget the amount wanted to maintain a lavish lifestyle. Plus, you never know when banks slide one of their pesky tricks and set certain stacks of cash to explode the moment they exited the bank doors.

No, cash was too risky with too few wins. So I set my eyes on diamonds instead, which were contained in the grand vault.

Still, I took a few piles for show and shoved them in a folded, black, duffle bag. I closed the safe door, but didn't cleaning anything else up. Instead, I knocked over a few more buckets and broomsticks, adding to the mess I already made. I needed to make it look like I was in a rush. Finally, with nothing else left to do, I pressed an ear to the door.

As per security protocol, the gas had been ventilated back out of the halls and the sounds of guards marching towards the vault echoed through the bank. They stopped and I could hear them shouting orders to another man. If all things were going according to my plan, Tressa should've positioned herself to watch one of the managers type in a series of numbers into four different locks to open the vault door.

Our survival relied on whether or not Tressa memorized all four of the long combinations. Tressa had a way with numbers, but they weren't odds I enjoyed though unavoidable. The passwords were engrained deep into a person's subconscious so that they could only remember the combination when a specific question or image appears and then it was forgotten. As for the person who buried it into their subconsciousness, I have no idea what happened to them. They could be dead for all I know and I have better things to do than chase ghosts.

I listened as the reinforced steel door was pushed open at a painstaking speed. Finally, I could hear a shuffling and the voices of the men muffled as they stepped into the vault. I took my chance to dart out of the unassuming closet and slip into an office area across the hall.

Numerous Tab monitors flashed pictures of the numerous cameras spread through the bank, the images sending blue light across the dark room. I made my way through many more office rooms with an almost identical layout until I reached the last one. Numerous unconscious, and probably dead, guards were piled on top of each other around the room. Tressa stood in the corner near the far door, dusting the ash off her black guard uniform. She looked up as I slipped in, reaching for a knife before she realized it was me.

"Dress up," she whispered and threw a pile clothes.

I caught them with ease and pulled on the guard uniform and helmet over my current clothes. I flicked the visor down to cover my blue eyes and stuffed my red hair into the top of the helmet. It was uncomfortable, to say the least, but I could hardly complain when I was the one who made the plan and placed myself in this predicament.

We leaned against the door and listened to the movements of the guards outside. This was the closest hiding spot to the vault and I could hear the men's words and movements as if I was there. They roved on and on about how someone must've tried to breach the vault and failed and how their vault is one of the best in the nation. I rolled my eyes and zoned out, waiting for the next part of the play to fall in action.

Finally, a few footsteps came running down the hall.

"Sir!" an unfamiliar voice called. "There was a second breach in hall 6. A closet's safe was opened and partially robbed."

There were murmurs and shouts as most of the guards ran towards hall 6 where I left a mess. We counted a few seconds before dashing out the door and rounding the corner, running at two unassuming guards. Before they could even turn, Tressa flung her knife and it buried deep in one of the guard's neck. The other turned and reached for the panic button in the side of his specialized Tab, but I grabbed his hand and twisted as I unsheathed the knife I hid under the uniform and dragged it across his neck. There no screams or pleas for help. I looked over at the first body as Tressa pulled out her knife and meticulously scrubbed it clean.

"Nice shot," I told her. She gave me a look which probably meant "I always have nice shots" and I sent one back saying "I know, but it's important to compliment people so they think you like them and are kind so that you can use them in the future." I'm not sure how well my message was conveyed, but she rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the vault door.

Without hesitation, Tressa tapped away the passcodes into the four different locks of the door. There was an eerie pause before the door swung open. Guess I chose the right person to memorize the code.

We dragged the bodies of the fallen guards inside. Tressa took a clean cloth from one of their pockets and wiped the blood from the floor as I inspected the numerous diamonds placed in floor to ceiling cabinets. It only took a few seconds to decode the meaning of the numbers and letters labeling each cabinet and finding the ones I wanted was easy. Checking each one precisely to make sure they weren't fakes, I placed them carefully in the bags.

"Phoenix," Tressa hissed after a few minutes. I turned and she pointed down the hall. Someone was coming.

I took one last diamond and darted out of the vault, feet silent on the tiled floor. Tressa pushed the door shut behind me and I hoped the sound of the guards' marching would mask the noise of the heavy door falling shut.

I shoved the bag of goodies back into the guard office and slid into place next to the vault door just as two more guards rounded the corner.

Tressa waved at them. "Communications, are still down. Are we up for plan C3?"

The guard spoken to paused for a moment, inspecting us as we stood where the two former guards had been.

Finally, he answered, "Yes, we are."

Tressa nodded and I spoke, "Can you take our positions real quick? The manager asked us to carry a very important message to Captain."

This time, the second guard answered. "Can't the manager carry the message himself?"

I shook my head. "As per protocol he's in the front end. He only left his position for a few minutes to deliver the message, but you were nowhere to be found so he went back."

I waited, hoping the guards wouldn't spot the two gaping holes in my lie. But, just as I expected, the guards already lost interest.

The first guard waved his hand. "Fine. But be quick about it."

Tressa and I walked away from the vault and turned the corner before they could question why the manager didn't just ask us where Captain was or why both of us were going. People were so easy to pawn.

Tressa and I branched away, nodding to each other. I dashed into the office rooms and worked my way back around to the one near the vault, grabbed the bag with our diamonds, and transferred them to a bank administered bag before making my way back around to the farthest exit. On my way, I made a small incision with my knife so that I could easily identify it. Pushing through the doors, I walked over to the other side of the bank, making my way through the halls and security protocols I memorized.

Based on the situation we set up for the bank, the security protocols—according to the ones we bought by a person who may or may not be dead in his apartment for mysterious reasons—state that plan C3 should've been activated.

Plan C3 tells the guards to carry bags holding some of their finest diamonds and a large sum of money out to the trucks to be moved to a more secure location. In reality, the bags contained fakes and the trucks weren't going anywhere, just moving around the block and back. They were setting up a trap, hoping the robbers would come out and try to take the extra transported money only to be ambushed.

It wasn't an okay plan. Too bad mine's better.

I ducked behind a corner as I heard footsteps approaching and checked my watch. I grinned. Still on time. I ducked behind another door as four guards rounded the corner. Just seconds later, I heard Tressa's voice echo through the hall.

"Hey guys!" she called. All of the guards turned to find her juggling multiple bags. "I need a little help."

They walked forward, one of them setting down the bag in his hands.

Perfect.

I slid out from behind the door and switched the fake bag out for the one carrying the real jewels and cash I stole without a sound. I was back behind the door when the guards turned back around. Now carrying a few more bags, the guard picked up the one I left for him and continued on their way.

When they were out of sight, I joined Tressa again and we made our way to the back doors. Through the glass, I could see men piling the bags into the truck. Tressa and I waited next to a group of lounging guards. The ones carrying bags out to the trucks were heavily ID'ed and checked every time, so there was no way we were getting out of here. At least, not yet.

Just as they closed the truck doors, gunshots rang echoed through the bank.

Just in time.

The guards outside fired at the roof of a neighboring building where two shadows slipped through the ash-ridden air, firing back. One of them, probably Brandon, launched a grenade through the air causing all of the guards to scatter. They were in dire need of reinforcements.

The remaining guards in the bank ran out the doors and we followed. Someone got the truck moving and drove it down the street, away from the unfurling chaos. More guards fired at the retreating Brandon and Lucas, who made it a point to pretend to be shot and fall. Brandon picked up Lucas and the two limped away dramatically. I taught them well.

In the meantime, Tressa and I rounded the corner and greeted the shadows of the alley. No one noticed two guards slip away in the fray. We ran through the alleys towards where the truck was supposed to turn around. Working our way through the maze, we reached a dumpster near the point where we were to attack the truck. Opening the dumpster, I pulled out more explosives and stripped down the guard uniform. Tressa did the same though I caught her glaring at the image of the raven with a golden blue-gemmed crown in its beak spray painted into the wall just above us.

"You okay?" I asked.

After a long moment, she whispered, "They hate the assassins, but they'll support murderers all the same."

I looked up at the Raven symbol which I had become accustomed to seeing in the shadows.

"Everyone just wants someone to blame for their troubles," I explained. "The Crowns are the perfect people to point their fingers at. But, they also want heroes they could look up to, someone to keep them safe. So, they're desperate enough to turn the Ravens."

Her grey eyes met mine. "The men carrying that tattoo who murdered my parents for no reason don't sound heroic."

I shrugged. "When one is starving and desperate, one hardly finds the need for logic."

Checking my watch again, I nodded to her. "Time to get our hard earned cash."

A small smile broke out on her face as she raised an eyebrow. "Hard earned? Since when did you consider planning and executing a bank robbery hard work?"

"I was speaking on your terms. For me it was a measly vacation," I replied and pulled my black mask over my face as I headed for the mouth of the alley.

The truck was speeding down the streets at massive speeds, the drivers clearly feeling victorious. They didn't know I had other plans for them.

I threw a grenade into the air just as the truck was passing by. It swerved to the side, crashing into a building and whirring to a stop. The back doors slammed open as three guards spilled out, guns raised.

Tressa flung another one straight at them. A few fell unconscious while others ducked to the sides for cover. I ran forward, using their distracted phase to my advantage as I stabbed one in the chest, though the dagger didn't penetrate his armor. I didn't want him dead anyway. They weren't into the fight since they were under the assumption that everything in the truck was fake, and killing one of their men would ruin their lack of interest and motivation. I this was much easier to deal with.

I punched the man in the face instead and hit him again and again with the but of my knife until he went down. Near me, Tressa bashed the head of one of them into a brick wall and stabbed another in the leg. I jumped into the truck and shifted through the bags until I found the one with my incision.

I grabbed it and was just about to turn when I caught a flash of gold out of the corner of my eye. Almost instinctively, I ducked just as a circular object sailed over my head. A hand-sized weapon with five curved blades sticking out of a circular center—a hybrid of an assassin star and a boomerang—buried itself deep into the padded walls of the truck. The golden blade glistened, the light sparkling off its sharp edges.

Shit.

Another blade sliced through the air, the wind whipping my cheek as it just missed me in centimeters. My eyes followed the blade as it paused, almost just floating in the air in front of me, before hurtling back to its owner. Before it even flew into her hands, I knew who I would find waiting behind me. Her bright blonde almost white hair caught the last glimpses of the falling sun casting her in an eerie light, making her look like a ghost. But she wasn't a ghost, she was real. Those blue eyes were staring at me with disbelief.

It was Daria Fortier. Or rather Arielle now since she stole my old name. Not that I cared.

I hadn't seen my younger sister in nearly eight years, and now, she was finally standing in front of me, no longer an innocent ten-year-old. The sister who always beat me in a game of hide and seek, the one who followed me everywhere, the one who was always there for me was back.

So, naturally, I shot her.

Daria cursed and ducked to the side, nurturing her arm, as I picked up my bag and jumped out of the truck. I heard her hiss and I jumped to the side as her blade spun in the air. I shot back and she ducked away again.

"Damn it, Ar-" she caught herself before she shouted my real name in the middle of the street.

I ran for the alley only to have a grenade launched in my way. I pressed myself to the ground as the explosion rocked the air above me, a shockwave pressing against my back as a neighboring building shook, bricks and debris flying every which way. Blinking the dust from my eyes, I looked back at the genius who decided to launch a grenade in such close quarters. To my dread, I found the Kingston brothers.

They looked vastly different from when they were younger, though it wasn't hard to tell them apart simply based on their actions. Damien stood with blood spilling from his nose thanks to Tressa—though she was nowhere to be seen—and another grenade ready in his hand. The other, who was clearly Xavier, was leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, watching the scene around him with only half-interested cold green eyes.

If I was anyone else, I would've done the smart thing and ran the moment I realized I was battling three of the most feared people in the world. But, I wasn't about to leave behind what I worked to attain just because the kids I could remember in diapers decided to show up for a little reunion.

I stood again, but Damien was ready. He launched another grenade and I ran to the side instead of ducking. If I kept trying to find cover, I would be stuck here until he ran out and if he was still the boy I remembered, he had ten more grenades hidden somewhere.

The grenade detonated somewhere behind me and I was thrown off my feet, the bag wrenched from my hands. I was sailing, perfectly weightless until I crashed to the ground, skidding across the cement and the gravel pierced my skin. My head spun from impact but I ignored it as I searched the street for where my bag had flown.

"I'm not trying to kill you!" Daria shouted.

"Sure," I snarled. "Cause that explains why you threw a blade at my head and are launching grenades at me."

I took out another gun from my belt and lifted my arm, aiming for Damien but he threw another grenade. Cursing, I pressed myself back to the ground as it exploded above me.

"Damien!" Daria shouted. "Stop throwing grenades!"

"Then tell her to stop shooting at us!"

I stumbled to my feet, my eyes skimmed the darkened street under the flickering street lights until I found the bag tucked away in a shadow near Daria.

"I just want to talk," Daria said, putting her hands up in mock surrender.

I spat the blood from my mouth. "And I want my diamonds."

I ran for the bag, mustering every ounce of energy I could get, but it was only a half-second before Damien flung another grenade up into the air, this time a little too close. I didn't have enough time to change course, only watch as the grenade neared. But, a hand grabbed my shoulder and yanked me behind the truck just as it detonated. I looked over at the girl who pulled me back.

"I thought you left," I told Tressa.

"I should've," she muttered. "Brandon and Lucas fled. I came back for you."

"I was just trying to get the-"

"You were trying to get yourself killed," Tressa interrupted. "And you very nearly succeeded."

They wouldn't have killed me, but I couldn't tell her that.

We paused as a strange silence enveloped the street. Finally, Xavier's voice cut through.

"Come out, Phoenix. You can't hide forever. We'll always find you."

So, the psychopathic ass was still a drama queen. Nice to know.

Tressa nudged my arm and whispered, "We have to take our chance. We need to run now before they close in."

"I'm not leaving the diamonds behind."

She gripped my shoulders like a petulant mother trying to shake some sense into her disobedient daughter. "I know you love keeping a clean success record, but those are the Crown Heirs, Phoenix. The Crown freaking Heirs. You don't have a choice."

I bit my tongue to refrain from telling her that I was also a Crown Heir. Instead, I hesitated a few seconds before nodding. I wanted to stay back and fight, but no Streeter thief would've done so, no matter how good they were. So we ran, using the truck to cover our movements as we dashed around the corner and back into the maze of alleys, joining the shadows once again. I lost my hard-earned treasures, not because of my own flaws but because Daria had to come fuck up a perfectly successful plan.

The next time I get my hands on her, I will kill her.





Sorry for the delay! But, in case you're not following me and missed the announcement, I'm participating with this book in NaNoWriMo. NaNoWriMo basically just challenges authors to write a lot during the month of November. The recommended goal is 50,000 words by the end of the month, which is what I'm following. This means that updates will be inconsistent, but they will be more often, so more content for you!

Also, the songs and aesthetics page isn't up yet because I'm working on making a few aesthetics for some characters and a map. I will be making and publishing it soon though, so keep your eyes open!