#armored car robbery

[callaofmageros]

William Talman is literally my favorite actor. He was fantastic in everything.

[letterboxd-loggd]

Armored Car Robbery (Armoured Car Robbery) (1950) Richard Fleischer

August 18th 2022

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The majority of censorship is self-censorship

I'm on tour with my new novel The Bezzle! Catch me TONIGHT in SAN DIEGO (Feb 22, Mysterious Galaxy). After that, it's LA (Saturday night, with Adam Conover), Seattle (Monday, with Neal Stephenson), then Portland, Phoenix and more!

I know a lot of polymaths, but Ada Palmer takes the cake: brilliant science fiction writer, brilliant historian, brilliant librettist, brilliant singer, and then some:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/10/monopoly-begets-monopoly/#terra-ignota

Palmer is a friend and a colleague. In 2018, she, Adrian Johns and I collaborated on "Censorship, Information Control, & Information Revolutions from Printing Press to Internet," a series of grad seminars at the U Chicago History department (where Ada is a tenured prof, specializing in the Inquisition and Renaissance forbidden knowledge):

https://ifk.uchicago.edu/research/faculty-fellow-projects/censorship-information-control-information-revolutions-from-printing-press/

The project had its origins in a party game that Ada and I used to play at SF conventions: Ada would describe a way that the Inquisitions' censors attacked the printing press, and I'd find an extremely parallel maneuver from governments, the entertainment industry or other entities from the much more recent history of internet censorship battles.

With the seminars, we took it to the next level. Each 3h long session featured a roster of speakers from many disciplines, explaining everything from how encryption works to how white nationalists who were radicalized in Vietnam formed an armored-car robbery gang to finance modems and Apple ][+s to link up neo-Nazis across the USA.

We borrowed the structure of these sessions from science fiction conventions, home to a very specific kind of panel that doesn't always work, but when it does, it's fantastic. It was a natural choice: after all, Ada and I know each other through science fiction.

Even if you're not an sf person, you've probably heard of the Hugo Awards, the most prestigious awards in the field, voted on each year by attendees of the annual World Science Fiction Convention (Worldcon). And even if you're not an sf fan, you might have heard about a scandal involving the Hugo Awards, which were held last year in China, a first:

https://www.nbcnews.com/news/world/science-fiction-authors-excluded-hugo-awards-china-rcna139134

A little background: each year's Worldcon is run by a committee of volunteers. These volunteers put together bids to host the Worldcon, and canvass Worldcon attendees to vote in favor of their bid. For many years, a group of Chinese fans attempted to field a successful bid to host a Worldcon, and, eventually, they won.

At the time, there were many concerns: about traveling to a country with a poor human rights record and a reputation for censorship, and about the logistics of customary Worldcon attendees getting visas. During this debate, many international fans pointed to the poor human rights record in the USA (which has hosted the vast majority of Worldcons since their inception), and the absolute ghastly rigmarole the US government subjects many foreign visitors to when they seek visas to come to the US for conventions.

Whatever side of this debate you came down on, it couldn't be denied that the Chinese Worldcon rang a lot of alarm-bells. Communications were spotty, and then the con was unceremoniously rescheduled for months after the original scheduled date, without any good explanation. Rumors swirled of Chinese petty officials muscling their way into the con's administration.

But the real alarm bells started clanging after the Hugo Award ceremony. Normally, after the Hugos are given out, attendees are given paper handouts tallying the nominations and votes, and those numbers are also simultaneously published online. Technically, the Hugo committee has a grace period of some weeks before this data must be published, but at every Worldcon I've attended over the past 30+ years, I left the Hugos with a data-sheet in my hand.

Then, in early December, at the very last moment, the Hugo committee released its data – and all hell broke loose. Numerous, acclaimed works had been unilaterally "disqualified" from the ballot. Many of these were written by writers from the Chinese diaspora, but some works – like an episode of Neil Gaiman's Sandman – were seemingly unconnected to any national considerations.

Readers and writers erupted in outrage, demanding to know what had happened. The Hugo administrators – Americans and Canadians who'd volunteered in those roles for many years and were widely viewed as being members in good standing of the community – were either silent or responded with rude and insulting remarks. One thing they didn't do was explain themselves.

The absence of facts left a void that rumors and speculation rushed in to fill. Stories of Chinese official censorship swirled online, and along with them, a kind of I-told-you-so: China should never have been home to a Worldcon, the country's authoritarian national politics are fundamentally incompatible with a literary festival.

As the outrage mounted and the scandal breached from the confines of science fiction fans and writers to the wider world, more details kept emerging. A damning set of internal leaks revealed that it was those long-serving American and Canadian volunteers who decided to censor the ballot. They did so out of a vague sense that the Chinese state would visit some unspecified sanction on the con if politically unpalatable works appeared on the Hugo ballot. Incredibly, they even compiled clumsy dossiers on nominees, disqualifying one nominee out of a mistaken belief that he had once visited Tibet (it was actually Nepal).

There's no evidence that the Chinese state asked these people to do this. Likewise, it wasn't pressure from the Chinese state that caused them to throw out hundreds of ballots cast by Chinese fans, whom they believed were voting for a "slate" of works (it's not clear if this is the case, but slate voting is permitted under Hugo rules).

All this has raised many questions about the future of the Hugo Awards, and the status of the awards that were given in China. There's widespread concern that Chinese fans involved with the con may face state retaliation due to the negative press that these shenanigans stirred up.

But there's also a lot of questions about censorship, and the nature of both state and private censorship, and the relationship between the two. These are questions that Ada is extremely well-poised to answer; indeed, they're the subject of her book-in-progress, entitled Why We Censor: from the Inquisition to the Internet.

In a magisterial essay for Reactor, Palmer stakes out her central thesis: "The majority of censorship is self-censorship, but the majority of self-censorship is intentionally cultivated by an outside power":

https://reactormag.com/tools-for-thinking-about-censorship/

States – even very powerful states – that wish to censor lack the resources to accomplish totalizing censorship of the sort depicted in Nineteen Eighty-Four. They can't go from house to house, searching every nook and cranny for copies of forbidden literature. The only way to kill an idea is to stop people from expressing it in the first place. Convincing people to censor themselves is, "dollar for dollar and man-hour for man-hour, much cheaper and more impactful than anything else a censorious regime can do."

Ada invokes examples modern and ancient, including from her own area of specialty, the Inquisition and its treatment of Gailileo. The Inquistions didn't set out to silence Galileo. If that had been its objective, it could have just assassinated him. This was cheap, easy and reliable! Instead, the Inquisition persecuted Galileo, in a very high-profile manner, making him and his ideas far more famous.

But this isn't some early example of Inquisitorial Streisand Effect. The point of persecuting Galileo was to convince Descartes to self-censor, which he did. He took his manuscript back from the publisher and cut the sections the Inquisition was likely to find offensive. It wasn't just Descartes: "thousands of other major thinkers of the time wrote differently, spoke differently, chose different projects, and passed different ideas on to the next century because they self-censored after the Galileo trial."

This is direct self-censorship, where people are frightened into silencing themselves. But there's another form of censorship, which Ada calls "middlemen censorship." That's when someone other than the government censors a work because they fear what the government would do if they didn't. Think of Scholastic's cowardly decision to pull inclusive, LGBTQ books out of its book fair selections even though no one had ordered them to do so:

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/05/06/books/scholastic-book-racism-maggie-tokuda-hall.html

This is a form of censorship outsourcing, and it "multiplies the manpower of a censorship system by the number of individuals within its power." The censoring body doesn't need to hire people to search everyone's houses for offensive books – it can frighten editors, publishers, distributors, booksellers and librarians into suppressing the books in the first place.

This outsourcing blurs the line between state and private surveillance. Think about comics. After a series of high-profile Congressional hearings about the supposed danger of comics to impressionable young minds, the comics industry undertook a regime of self-censorship, through which the private Comics Code Authority would vet comings for "dangerous" content before allowing its seal of approval to appear on the comics' covers. Distributors and retailers refused to carry books without a CCA stamp, so publishers refused to publish books unless they could get a CCA stamp.

The CCA was unaccountable, capricious – and racist. By the 60s and 70s, it became clear that comic about Black characters were subjected to much tighter scrutiny than comics featuring white heroes. The CCA would reject "a drop of sweat on the forehead of a Black astronaut as 'too graphic' since it 'could be mistaken for blood.'" Every comic that got sent back by the CCA meant long, brutal reworkings by writers and illustrators to get them past the censors.

The US government never censored heroes like Black Panther, but the chain of events that created the CCA "middleman censors" made sure that Black Panther appeared in far fewer comics starring Marvel's most prominent Black character. An analysis of censorship that tries to draw a line between private and public censorship would say that the government played no role in Black Panther's banishment to obscurity – but without Congressional action, Black Panther would never have faced censorship.

This is why attempts to cleanly divide public and private censorship always break down. Many people will tell you that when Twitter or Facebook blocks content they disagree with, that's not censorship, since censorship is government action, and these are private actors. What they mean is that Twitter and Facebook censorship doesn't violate the First Amendment, but it's perfectly possible to infringe on free speech without violating the US Constitution. What's more, if the government fails to prevent monopolization of our speech forums – like social media – and also declines to offer its own public speech forums that are bound to respect the First Amendment, we can end up with government choices that produce an environment in which some ideas are suppressed wherever they might find an audience – all without violating the Constitution:

https://locusmag.com/2020/01/cory-doctorow-inaction-is-a-form-of-action/

The great censorious regimes of the past – the USSR, the Inquisition – left behind vast troves of bureaucratic records, and these records are full of complaints about the censors' lack of resources. They didn't have the manpower, the office space, the money or the power to erase the ideas they were ordered to suppress. As Ada notes, "In the period that Spain’s Inquisition was wildly out of Rome’s control, the Roman Inquisition even printed manuals to guide its Inquisitors on how to bluff their way through pretending they were on top of what Spain was doing!"

Censors have always done – and still do – their work not by wielding power, but by projecting it. Even the most powerful state actors are not powerful enough to truly censor, in the sense of confiscating every work expressing an idea and punishing everyone who creates such a work. Instead, when they rely on self-censorship, both by individuals and by intermediaries. When censors act to block one work and not another, or when they punish one transgressor while another is free to speak, it's tempting to think that they are following some arcane ruleset that defines when enforcement is strict and when it's weak. But the truth is, they censor erratically because they are too weak to censor comprehensively.

Spectacular acts of censorship and punishment are a performance, "to change the way people act and think." Censors "seek out actions that can cause the maximum number of people to notice and feel their presence, with a minimum of expense and manpower."

The censor can only succeed by convincing us to do their work for them. That's why drawing a line between state censorship and private censorship is such a misleading exercise. Censorship is, and always has been, a public-private partnership.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/22/self-censorship/#hugos

[timdrakequotes]

Alfred: Not so fast, young man. Master Bruce left instructions. You’re to stay here, to do your daily calisthenics regimen. Then you’re to complete your after-action report on yesterday’s bit of business with the armored car robbery.

Tim: But I already told Bruce everything!

Alfred: And yet nothing really counts until it’s written. Following that, you’re to do your school homework--here, if you like--or at home, if the hour grows too late.

Tim: But I have an idea on how to find the missing guy. It’s not fair!

Alfred: I’ve no doubt the very heavens weep at your misfortune.

--Tim Drake with Alfred Pennyworth (Robin #121 – Johnny Got His Gun)

[octuscle]

Hey bud i know you quit the boreing job at chronivac, but i had no idea how else to get a hold of you. Its your brothers firend the one that got locked up for 2 months. You gave me that cigar and told me you would make sure no one found my loot well i was in prison.

Well im out bud hoping we can meet up. I am haveing wierd memorys that arnt mine. I would also like to get my stuff back.

Bro, I know we owe you a hell of a lot! And I apologize for the two months in jail. I hope it was bearable. I have a suitcase for you. The three-letter code is SSA. Besides the loot, you'll find a few things in the case that might come in handy for your new start. But now get ready to go to the airport. I have ordered you a business class ticket. By the time you arrive, it will probably be too tight for you in economy class.

On arrival you will be Brazilian through and through. You've only left your hometown once in your life, and that promptly landed you two months in jail for a bar fight. The fact that you only used it to distract attention from the armored car robbery was a stroke of genius! Bro, enjoy life by the sea! Your time in jail was certainly helpful in getting you through here on the street. And with your loot as starting capital, you can certainly build up quite a bit.

Aproveite sua vida, seu gângster!

[phasesgurl]

another sonic 3 idea

There's some sort of commotion. the Wachowskis go to check it out. A lot of stuff is smashed, there's burn marks on the road. Someone must have been going way over the speed limit. Tom asks around to try to find out what happened. Sonic notices that people are looking at him weird--whispering to each other. He can't quite make out what. Then, he turns and gasps when he sees Commander Walters.

Tom also notices him there, walking over. "Olive Garden Guy? What's going on?" Tails comes over as well. "I don't know what happened here, but it seems like a robbery, that was also part of something bigger." Noticing Commander Walter, he exclaimed, "Oh no, not that guy again." Noticing Knuckles' confused expression, he explained, "he kidnapped me and Sonic one time."

Walters said, "Don't worry, I'm only here to shed a little light on this case." He pulled out a tablet and brought up a video, turning it to show Tom.

The video showed something zipping around in the building that was robbed, smashing into guards, pausing only for a second half off-screen to pick up something small and green. Then, it jumped out a window.

Sonic rewound and paused to when it stopped. He could see a form sort of like his, but the quills were brushed up instead of down. "That guy looks sort of like--" he was interrupted by a hand being placed on his shoulder. He looked up to see another G.U.N. guy in police armor. He was about to ask what was going on when he got an answer.

"Sonic the Hedgehog, you are under arrest."

"What?!" Exclaimed Maddie. Walters remained calm. "You saw the video." Tails jumped in. "Sonic would never do that!" "I agree," said Wade's voice. The family turned to see the honorary uncle emerge from the crowd. "Sonic wouldn't steal something. At the very least, he'd leave some money for it after breaking in."

But someone in the crowd shouted, "It has to be him, what are the odds of there being two alien hedgehog that can run at the speed of sound?" Tails yelled back at her, "Me and Knuckles got here, didn't we?"

Then everybody started shouting at each other all at once. Half the people thought Sonic was too nice to do something like this, half thought it had to be him. Who else could it be?

Finally, Commander Walter yelled, "Enough of that!" The crowd fell silent. "Come on, Sonic." He said, putting a hand on Sonic's back to direct him to a black car behind him.

But Sonic turned back to his family "You can't just let him do this!" he exclaimed desperately. His eyes darted around the scene. He turned to Tom. "Dad, you don't actually think I'd do something like this, right?"

Sonic wasn't sure what he expected his adoptive father to say. What came out of his mouth definitely wasn't it.

"I...I don't know."

Tom actually didn't know. It couldn't have been Sonic...but at the same time, it couldn't have not been him. The look on the hedgehog's face that followed his statement--a combination of shock, hurt, and hopelessness broke Tom's heart. But before he could say anything else, Walters was pushing Sonic toward the car.

Sonic cast one hopeless look back to the Wachowskis. He saw Tails staring in disbelief, Knuckles simply confused, and Tom turning away, while Maddie put her arm around him, trying to comfort him.

Tails, Knuckles, and Wade couldn't pull their eyes away as the black car drove away.

***

That night, Tails and Knuckles walked into their attic bedroom

"You mean you actually think Sonic robbed that place?!"

Knuckles explained, "I saw no evidence otherwise."

Tails didn't let up. "The guy in the video wasn't even the same color as Sonic! They were black, glowing orangish!"

"Could have been a poor quality camera." Knuckles positioned himself in front of a punching bag Maddie has bought when he moved in, deciding he needed a better way to "train" than turning the living room into a gladiator pit. Pow.

"I thought we knew Sonic better than this!" Tails continued. Knuckles didn't respond, other than unleashing another punch.

Pow.

"It couldn't have been him, Knuckles! What makes you think he would want to do this?"

Pow Pow.

"I can't believe that even though you know Sonic would do anything to protect this town and the people who live here, you still think-"

"OF COURSE I DON'T!"

POW!

And with one mighty swing, the bag came free of its pole and flew across the room.

Maddie was in the room shortly later. "Did someone get hurt, or did Knuckles just break his punching bag again?!" Tails pointed to the bag on the other side of the room. Maddie sighed. "I'll fix that in the morning. Or get one more Knuckles-proof." She climbed down the ladder.

Knuckles waited until she was out of earshot before saying, "I don't want to believe Sonic is a criminal, Tails. But with the information we have now, my honor will not let me believe otherwise. Nobody who knows Sonic would want to think he's bad."

Tails nodded. Most of the people against him were people who didn't know Sonic very well. But something Knuckles had said gave him an idea.

"Let's get some sleep. We can figure this out in the morning."

Tails hopped into his bed. He liked the way that the beds themselves had the color of the brother one to right, except Knuckles, since he was the furthest right, and the blankets were the color of the mobian sleeping under them. But I wasn't really the same looking to his right and not not seeing the blue hedgehog sleeping on his side.

Of course, he didn't actually plan on falling asleep. He waited until he was reasonably sure Knuckles was asleep, then, quietly as he could, he gathered some gadgets in his yellow backpack. Camera? Good idea. Electronic notepad? Definitely. Laser gun? He paused on that one, but decided to bring it just in case he ran into the real culprit.

Now the hard part.

Tails wasn't sure weather flying or walking to the door would be quieter. He put one foot forward and--creeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeak. Oops. Flying it was.

He spun his tails and lifted off. It did make a faint whippa-whippa-whippa-whippa noise, but it seemed quieter than the creaky floor. he landed in front of the door and reached out to turn the handle--

"What are you doing?"

Crap. Knuckles was awake.

Tails turned around. "I was just, uh..."

"Save it. I know you want to go and collect evidence to prove Sonic's innocence, but you're not--"

"Knuckles, it's not like I'm trying to bust him out of jail or something!"

Knuckles gave him a look. "Let me finish. You're not going, without me."

This surprised Tails. "Wait, really?"

Knuckles grinned. "I said I don't want to believe Sonic is a criminal. This is my chance not to."

Tails was so happy he could hug Knuckles. "Let's go." He reached for the handle again--

"Hold on, Tails."

The fox turned around. "What now?"

Knuckles was dead serious. "If we go that way, we risk waking the Donut Lord and Lady of Pretzels. I suggest an alternate way out of the house."

"How? The room only has one door."

Knuckles looked up at the ceiling, Tails' eyes followed. When he saw the skylight, he knew exactly what Knuckles was thinking of.

"I see what you're getting at..." he announced. He flew upward, pushing it open before going back down to pick up Knuckles.

They touched down in the yard. "Whew," breathed Tails. "You're still heavy."

"Irrelevant," proclaimed Knuckles. "We must prove the hedgehog innocent!"

Having caught his breath, Tails nodded. The two ran off into town.

***

Sonic was sitting in a cell. There were no bars, but there was a large blue force field across the entrance preventing him from leaving. The feeling that spawned when Tom said he didn't know hadn't left yet.

Sonic tried not to get mad at Tom. It wasn't his fault. He saw something out of context. But Sonic had a lot of anger inside right now, and it needed to go somewhere.

He was torn between giving it to G.U.N. and the doppelganger in the video, but before he could make a conclusion, someone was knocking on the cell.

Well, the wall just beside the force field. Sonic could still hear it.

"What." he said, still rather angry.

"Commander Walters would like a word with you."

Sonic turned away. "I don't think we have anything to say to each other."

"It's not something you have a say in," said the guy, putting in a code to disable the force field.

Sonic got up and followed the agent. What was the Olive garden guy going to say? Sonic was pretty sure he was just going to be terminated or something.

After what felt like forever, he arrived at a room with a table that had two chairs opposite each other. One was occupied by Walters, the other was empty.

"Have a seat."

Sonic sat down.

"In the chair."

He got up from the floor. A year or two ago, he would have made that mistake due to not understanding Earth customs. This time it was more an act of resistance.

Once Sonic was seated in the correct place, Walter began talking. "Now, I know we've-"

"You're going to terminate me, aren't you?"

There were a few moments of silence between the hedgehog and the human. Sonic was sure it was because he'd called his bluff.

"Actually, no."

Sonic raised his eyebrow. Was this a lie?

"I know we've had minor disagreements in the past-"

"You threw an electric net on me!"

"Okay, not so minor. the point is, I need your help."

Sonic continued to stare. "You, a commander of a secret government organization, need help from me, a 13 year old child."

"With super-speed and lightning powers. Any more interruptions before I go on?"

Sonic's expression didn't change. "I wasn't the one who robbed that place."

"I know."

"I guess I can se--wait. You know?"

"Yes"

"Did...did you know from the start?"

"Yes."

"And..." Sonic felt his fury coming to the surface. "And you arrested me anyway!?!"

"I understand why-"

Sonic stood up. "Everybody in my hometown thinks I'm a criminal! I'm a wanted hog, and-and my own dad thinks I'm a thief!" Sonic could feel tears seeping into the corner of his eyes, and lighting began to coarse over his body. "My life just got totally uprooted, and you mean to tell me it was all because of something YOU KNEW WAS A LIE THE ENTIRE TIME!?!?"

Pant, pant.

Throughout Sonic's little speech, Walters stayed calm. "Do you think you have it out of your system yet?"

Sonic sat back down. "I think I'm good."

"The thing is, this isn't the only time that this thief has struck." He turned to the wall, which had a screen that now had a map of the world with red dots on it, presumably where this other hedgehog had been spotted. "He's been all over the world, causing chaos. The public was beginning to get angry, they needed to hear something good so they'd know we're protecting them."

Sonic shook his head. "So when they think you've solved the problem, but this guy goes at it again, what then? You've just made it worse for yourself."

"He's not going to," said Commander Walters. "Because of you."

Sonic looked surprised.

"See, he's related to an abandoned program called Project Shadow, the quest to create the ultimate weapon. However, the scientist in charge went off the plan. It became too dangerous and too hard to control. We had to shut down the program and seal the project away."

"Woah."

"However, your acquaintance Robotnik has attempted to get the weapon for himself. In the wrong hands it could be extremely dangerous. Hell, It could be devastating in the right hands." He turned back to Sonic. "That's why we need you to get Project Shadow and bring to us so we can destroy it once and for all."

Sonic thought about it. "I'm usually don't help people who frame me for robbery and destroy my father's trust in me."

Walters said, "We didn't expect you to do this for free, of course. We expected you to be angry at our methods of getting you here. So, we do have compensation for helping us."

Sonic said nothing, but his face showed he was interested in the reward.

"We'll give you ID and adoption certificates. You and your friends live here on Earth legally, and Gardian Units of Nations won't be able to bother you."

Sonic turned away, thinking. Being able to not have to hide from the world, because no one would bother him about being there illegally. The Wachowskis weren't able to use things like commercial airlines right now because the kids didn't have ID. Tom probably was still mad because he thought Sonic was a robber, but would making himself and his brothers safe ease that? Tom wouldn't be sticking his neck out to take care of them any longer...

"Well?"

Sonic turned back to the commander. "Deal."

[decaffeinatedunicorn]

I wanna talk about Hayden in Takers(2010) cuz he looked so HOT! I only watched the movie for him 🤭

Pros:

- Hayden OBVIIII

- His hair 😩 absolutely ✨️glorious✨️

- Him in a suit *chefs kiss*

- His fight scene was sooooo hot

- His voice

Cons:

- Not enough screen time 😤

- His hat... I hate it! It covers his beautiful hair

- His death 😡😡😡

I don't remember much lol. I only watched it once cuz I refuse to watch his death scene again

movie: Takers summary: Gordon Jennings (Idris Elba) and his friends enjoy a luxurious lifestyle funded by bank robberies, and they avoid capture by sticking to a strict set of rules. As they celebrate the latest job, a former associate arrives with a daring plan to rob an armored car. The lure of so much cash is too tempting to resist but, unbeknown to Gordon's men, this heist puts them on a collision course with Russian mobsters and a detective (Matt Dillon) who will do anything to capture them. release date: August 27, 2010 tomatometer: 28% IMDb: 6.2/10 UNImeter: 3.5/5

What I like about it:

A.J. obviously

the general storyline

fight scenes (specifically A.J. getting the c-4)

cinematography was good, though it looked like a high school project in some parts.

T.I. did a good job as Ghost because I really fucking hated Ghost... from start to finish

A.J and his little accent that slips sometimes 🤭

The helicopter scene in the beginning (if you watch closely, you can see Hayden almost blow away)

What I dislike about it:

random hodgepodge of actors because Chris Brown?

butt ass naked Paul Walker in the pool? Like was that necessary?

Matt Dillon

the crackhead sister

Ghost should have been shot instead of A.J.

the fedora... like honestly John Luessenhop count your days for that (A.J. wore the fedora because people couldn't tell Paul Walker and Hayden Christensen apart from behind, so they made A.J. wear that terrible hat for most of the movie smh)

maybe a bit more backstory, like how everybody met and teamed up.

TAKERS RECAST IN PT. 2

Not a fan of Hayden content? check out @chronicallyill-fangirl

[fablesrose]

Ch 11 - The Ice Man Job

Series Rewrite Masterlist 

Pairing: Eliot Spencer x Ford!Reader

Description: With Sophie gone to find herself, the crew is out a grifter. This leads to Hardison getting a little cocky when clearing their client's name from a diamond theft.

Words: 7077

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The room felt a bit empty with Sophie gone; I could tell Parker felt the same as she shifted across the couch, trying to fill the space during the briefing. Hardison stood at the front of the room telling us about Jim Kerrity who was in charge of Kerrity Diamonds. In his four years of being in charge, he’s run the business into the ground by living beyond his means with addictions and party expenditures. 

Eventually Hardison was getting annoyed with Parker’s shifting, “What? Why? What are you doing?” He asked her. 

“What?” She replied. 

“It’s distracting,” Eliot exclaimed. 

“The couch is feeling a little empty,” she explained, her voice a little distressed. 

“Eliot, sit next to Parker,” Nate said. 

“No, I’m sitting here!”

I turned to Parker from my curled up position on the edge, “I can try to spread out a bit, would that help?”

Her face scrunched in a frown, trying to think.

“Guys, guys,” Nate interjected, “We all miss Sophie, I… We just have to adapt.”

“I got this,” Hardison said, walking towards Parker, “Move, go. Bye, go.” He motioned for her to scootch to the center of the couch and sat next to her. “You happy?” He asked, only continuing in the briefing once she nodded. 

“Kerrity’s finances are a mess. Maxed out, maxed out, overdrawn,” Hardison explained. “According to the insurance claim, he stands to gain nine million from the armored car robbery.”

“A guy like this gets in over his head and the insurance policy starts to look attractive,” Nate summed up. 

“Hires a couple of thugs, knocks off his own truck,” Eliot said. 

“It’s a sweet payout, too,” Hardison admitted. “He gets the insurance claim, plus he still has the diamonds.”

“Mmhmm, and honest people like Joey take the heat,” Eliot finished. 

“The thing about this that people don’t understand is insurance fraud, it’s a lot of red tape,” Nate explained, “and with a big claim like this it’ll take a year before Kerrity sees any money. Bill collectors are not gonna wait around.”

“He’s gotta fence the diamonds,” Eliot said. 

“He can’t,” Parker stated. 

“What?” I asked, everything moving a bit fast. 

“His diamonds are GIA certified VVS clarity, all about two carats,” Parker rattles off, stealing the remote from Hardison. 

“That’s my clicker,” Hardison pointed out, annoyed. 

“Who stole the Polar Star?” Parker asked, raising her hand, “Who stole the Gem of Gibraltar? Damiani Raid? Me. I know diamonds, and our bad guy can’t fence those diamonds because stones that size have an ID number laser-inscribed on them.”

The screen zoomed in on a diamond to show this tiny ID number etched into the side, proving her point. 

“Like a stolen car. You’ve gotta clean the VIN before you sell ‘em,” Eliot concluded. 

 “How do you get that ID off?” I asked. 

“With a special laser,” Parker answered, “But only three guys can do it. Antwerp, Dubai, Tel Aviv.” 

“And as of right now, Boston. Right?” Nate said, standing in front of us. “Kerrity has to move his diamonds, so we convince him that we’re the only people who can make them clean enough to move.”

“Get them to bring the diamonds to us,” Hardison said. 

“And when he shows up, uh…” Nate paused, “Oh, Hardison, can you put the crime scene photos…?”

Hardison took the clicker remote back from Parker and put the photos up. The photo showed our client, Joey, sitting in the armored truck with a paramedic tending to his wounded shoulder. There was a man standing to the side talking to him, a notebook in hand.

“State police guy, Lieutenant Bonanno,” Eliot introduced the man.

“Yeah. So we drop Kerrity on his lap with the stolen diamonds,” Nate explained, “Lieutenant Bonanno drops the hammer. Our guy gets cleared, gets his job back.”

“Pardon me, but I don’t mean to stop the fun train,” Eliot interjected. “We’re out a grifter here.”

“I know who we can call,” Parker volunteered. 

“Now, we’re not gonna call Sophie,” Nate disagreed. “No, she has asked for space, and we’re gonna honor that. No. Hardison, Y/n, you are gonna be our grifters.”

Hardison leaned forward with a smile, “I’m listening.”

“What? No.” Eliot shook his head in disbelief. 

“Is it too late for me to pretend like I don’t know about,” I waved my hands around the room, “this whole operation?”

“Yes,” Nate answered me and Eliot at the same time, “Parker, you’ll be the roper.”

“What?” She asked puzzledly.

“Cute dress, heels, you’ll be fine.”

“Sure, I’ll be fine,” Parker whispered to herself. 

I looked at her and could feel the anxiety rolling off of her. I nudged her shoulder to catch her attention. Once she looked at me, I nodded reassuringly at her, “We’ll be okay, we’ll figure it out. You’re not alone, we’ll help each other.”

She nodded a bit more firmly, but I could tell she was still anxious. 

“Eliot, you’ll be the muscle,” Nate continued. 

A little while later, I found Parker hiding under the counter, talking to someone on the phone. I stood in the kitchen, quietly listening. It didn’t take long to figure out that she was talking to Sophie as Parker explained the situation to her. 

“I will not be fine,” she exclaimed, “I stabbed that guy with a fork!”

Well, I didn’t know that little detail. 

“Parker, Parker, relax” Sophie soothed, her voice softly coming through the phone, just loud enough for me to hear. “It’s fine. Listen. Go to Nate’s storage cupboard and you're gonna find a sexy little mini-dress and my emergency Jimmy Choos.”

“Jimmy who? You have a body in Nate’s closet?”

“Shoes, Parker. Didn’t I teach you any...? Alright listen, this is the important bit. Do you still have the Rosalind Diamond you stole in Perth?”

“Yes,” she answered. 

I huffed out a breath, I really shouldn’t be surprised.

“Wear it. The diamond will speak for you. You won’t have to say a word,” Sophie said. “This is the key to the grift. You just trust the character. Say nothing. Trust the diamond.”

“I can do that,” Parker relented. “Don’t tell Nate I called.”

“I won’t,” she reassured. 

Parker caught my eye as she crawled out from under the counter. I motioned that my lips were sealed which helped her relax a little bit. Now to see if Sophie’s advice proved successful.

Parker was able to keep her cool and lead Kerrity to the back of the bar where Hardison, Eliot, and I were waiting, playing pool. 

“No,” Hardison slammed his cue on the table once he saw them turning the corner. “Come here, what have I said? What have I said about new people, huh?”

I raised my eyebrow at Eliot at Hardison’s attitude and accent. He just rolled his eyes in response before he slammed Kerrity into the pool table.

“Hey, it's okay,” Parker said, “This guy works in diamonds. He wants to talk business or something.”

“Alright,” Hardison relented. “Lay the arms down brother. He’s cool.”

Eliot let him up with a shove. 

“You’ll have to excuse my bodyguard. He’s touchy. It’s ‘cuz he’s a mute. Alright?”

I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing at Eliot’s pissed off expression. 

“Yeah, well, my bodyguards don’t talk much either,” Kerrity responded, as three intimidating looking men entered the area.

“Well, looks like we found our armored car robbers,” Nate said through comms.  

I hummed quietly, noting the conclusion. 

Some dominance had to be established, some control. Hardison and Eliot saw it too, and after a look was shared, Eliot got one of the so-called ‘bodyguards’ into an arm lock behind his back, using him as a shield when another guard had drawn a gun.

“Going to shoot through your own man?” I asked the one with the gun. He had a look in his eye that said he was seriously considering it. 

His eyes flicked to me, a look of recognition noting that I was in play. “To be honest with you, I never liked him,” he said in a noticeable Russian accent. 

“Legit,” Hardison said. “Goon squad and all, isn’t it? Stand down.”

There was a tense beat before the Russian lowered his weapon. I stepped around the pool table and placed a hand on Eliot’s shoulder right as he released the man he was holding. My hand slid off as I stepped past him, perching myself on the table, placing myself more front and center. 

“Jim Kerrity,” he introduced himself. 

“You’re Jim Kerrity? Kerrity Diamonds?” Hardison asked. “Brother, you got it all last week.”

“The heist. Yes, that was me.”

“So, did you use these fellas here, or hire out?” I asked, making a show of examining my nails. I could see out of the corner of my eye that Eliot had closed the gap, ready to step in front of me if necessary. 

“We’re in the business, Jimmy boy. I can smell an inside job,” Hardison explained.

“So what do you do in the business, Mr…?”

 “I’m a thief.They call me… The Ice Man,” Hardison said with a smug smile. 

I rolled my eyes just as Nate repeated the name questioningly. 

“No, Hardison, you have to have a light touch. Undersell,” Nate said. 

“What kind of thief calls themselves a thief?” Kerrity asked. 

“An arrogant one,” I responded. I offered my hand to Kerrity, which he took just the fingers, and turned it with a slight bow of his head.

“Doesn’t matter, I have the reputation to prove it,” Hardison rebutted, annoyedly. “This is my assistant-”

“Annaka,” I cut in, “and I prefer ‘his more subtle associate.’”

Kerrity smiled, looking me up and down, “I don’t suppose you have a boyfriend, do you?”

Eliot took a half step forward, giving Kerrity the hint to back up. I simply gave him a tight smile, not answering his question. I did dress up a little bit, a blouse and nice pants. I wanted to look nice, but professional. The fact that he still felt the need to comment and shoot his shot made my skin crawl a bit.

“I’m sure you’ve seen my work in Perth. The Polar Star? Nicked it.The Gem of Gibraltar? Nicked it,” Hardison bragged, which pulled the attention back to himself. 

I looked to Parker who started to pace behind him as he continued to use her thefts for his reputation. 

“Then I shouldn’t be seen talking to you,” Kerrity concluded. 

“Right, right, right. Cause two criminals can’t talk business while shootin’ pool. Bitch of it is nickin’ ‘em’s butter…” Hardison trailed off. 

“Moving them is the issue,” I finished, “I’m sure you know something about that.”

“Yes, especially with those inscribed ID numbers,” Kerrity agreed. 

“There are ways around that,” I commented. 

“I got this laser, see,” Hardison continued, “Only one in the country, mind you. This thing, I had to bring over piece by soddin’ piece from Turkmenistan. It can scrub and ID clean off any diamond. Re-virginized.”

“And what kind of fee do you charge for such a service?” Kerrity asked. 

“Thirty percent,” Hardison answered. 

“Five percent.”

“Thirty percent,” Hardison reiterated.

“No way in hell.”

“That’s the discounted rate, brother. Cause anything lower than that is an insulted rate, cause it's an insult to me, savvy?”

I jumped in to even out the tension, “You said it yourself, Kerrity, it’s a very specialized service. If you can somehow transport your diamonds elsewhere, get someone else to do it, be our guest.” I slid off the pool table and returned to my spot on the end, grabbing my pool cue, “I will say, good luck executing that, let alone getting a better rate.” I began to rechalk my cue, not trusting myself to take a shot just yet. 

“You, uh, you ring me when you wisen up, hear?” Hardison said, writing his phone number on a napkin. 

Kerrity looked at the napkin for a moment before throwing it on the table, “Thanks, but no thanks, brother.” He swiftly walked away. 

The Russian walked up and grabbed the napkin carefully before walking away, following Kerrity. 

I let out a sigh in relief once they were gone. I finally leaned down and took a shot, hissing when the ball glanced off a corner, just out of the pocket. 

“Close,” Eliot commented before taking his own shot, sinking it easily, and moving on to the next one. 

“Why do I even bother?” I asked myself.

Eliot stepped up next to me, “You’ve gotta start somewhere, we’ll just have to practice more in the pub.”

“Hey,” Hardison cut in, “You can’t talk, remember?”

“Dammit, Hardison!” Eliot exclaimed, continuing to shoot pool, finishing the game quickly. He continued to berate him saying that it was stupid. 

As he shot each ball in, one after the other, I couldn’t help but focus on how he’d said that we should practice. The fact he wanted to do it together warmed my heart a little bit. As I started to imagine it, I couldn’t stop the image of Eliot looking at Mikel from the last job popping into my head. The image of Eliot’s blush when Mikel brought out handcuffs flashed before I fought it down. It shouldn’t have bothered me, it was none of my business. We were coworkers, friends at best. Still, I could enjoy the feelings he gave me and the moments we had together. 

Once Eliot sunk his last shot, he left the bar. I helped clean up before the rest of us followed him.’

“Ice Man?” Eliot asked Hardison once we got back to Nate’s apartment. 

“Hey, I put a lot of work into that character,” Hardison defended. “No, no, no, I bought new clothes, ugly as hell, too.”

“You got that right,” I whispered to Parker and she smiled at me. 

“This always happens when you go on the grift, Hardison,” Eliot said, “you go way too big.”

“You have to have some subtlety,” I commented.

“Yeah, Sophie told me to say as little as possible,” Parker explained, “let the character do the work.”

“When did, uh, Sophie say that?” Nate asked, walking down the stairs into the common area of the apartment. 

“A long time ago,” Parker said quickly, “maybe last Christmas. I don’t even think it was Sophie.”

Nate wasn’t quite convinced, but moved on anyway, straightening his tie, “I’m gonna go put more pressure on Kerrity. I want you guys to be on the clear-out. Ice Man, play it cool. That’s just an awful, awful name.”

“Genius,” Hardison tried to correct in his character’s accent.

“See?” Eliot said. “When you get in too deep on this, I ain’t bailin’ your ass out.”

“I don’t need you to bail me out. I’m the Ice Man.”

“Not. Gonna. Help.” Eliot emphasized again. 

I laughed at their expressions, clearly annoyed at each other. “Well, what’s done is done. Let’s just hope we can still pull this off. Even with Hardison’s accent,” I continued to laugh at myself as I retreated to my apartment.

It didn’t take long after Nate put some pressure on Kerrity as an insurance guy that Kerrity called Hardison to set up a meeting to see the laser at work. Parker, Eliot, and I drove to the lab where we were going to ‘borrow’ a laser.

Once we pulled up, Eliot was on the phone with someone, but Parker and I could only hear his side of the conversation: “I know. He’s driving me crazy. How, huh? I’m back up, they can’t rely on me. Alright, alright. Hey… thanks. Don’t tell Nate I called.”

“Who was that?” Parker asked. 

Eliot hesitated, “Cable company.”

Parker and I shared a look before I handed her the duffle bag from Eliot’s truck bed and sent them into the lab. Parker and Eliot went in and cleared out the lab with a chemical exposure evacuation, leaving it empty for our purposes. They set up a camera so Nate could see what was going on, and got ready for Kerrity’s arrival. 

I stayed in the parking lot waiting for Kerrity to pull in. I timed my approach into the building to run into him and walk him into the lab. 

“Mr. Kerrity, so glad you could make it,” I said, meeting him just before the door.

He opened the door for me, “Pleasure is mine, Ms. Annaka.”

I led him and the Russian he brought with him through the hallways to the lab where Parker and Eliot were waiting. 

“Where is Mr. Ice?” Kerrity asked once we stepped inside. 

“He’s late,” Parker responded, “He’s always late.”

There was a roar of an engine outside. We all glanced out and watched as Hardison pulled up in a red Ferrari.

“Hmm. Subtle,” Kerrity commented. 

“While he walks in,” I said, “May I see the stone?”

Kerrity presented the diamond, “Two carats. Very few flaws, my salesman said.”

I pulled out a jewelry loupe, a type of mini magnifying glass, that I picked up somewhere and examined the stone. I found the ID number, though it was still too small to quite read it. I commented that I found it and examined the body of the stone. I had little to no idea what I was looking for, but I figured he didn’t either. 

I finally looked up at him, “It’s a good stone, Mr. Kerrity. It should do nicely.”

Just as I had said so, Hardison walked into the lab with smug grandeur, “The Ice Man cometh.” He gestured to the machine on the table, “Let me introduce you to my laser, Glinda. You see, I found that laser fluences below the diamond graphitization threshold are most effective. Wouldn’t you say?”

Eliot and I made eye contact and shook our heads when Kerrity and the Russian weren’t looking. He was doing too much.

“Yeah,” Kerrity hesitantly agreed. Clearly not knowing what the heck he said, like the rest of us. 

“The diamond?” Hardison asked.

Kerrity gestured to me as I handed the stone over to Hardison. I was tempted to make an ‘oops, I lost it’ joke, but knew that wasn’t wise, for both the tension and the character. 

Hardison examined it, “She’s a beaut. Sheila, get me a pop.” He didn’t even look at Parker when he asked which I could tell she didn’t appreciate, even through her hard neutral expression. 

“Because this will be classified IF, an internally flawless two-carat round cut diamond, it should be easy to oblate,” Hardison continued, placing the diamond in place for the laser. 

Parker was out grabbing a cubic zirconia from a neighboring lab to replace the diamond while grabbing that pop. 

“How is this gonna fool him?” She asked Nate.

“He’s not looking at the diamond, he’s looking at the ID number,” he responded. 

“ID numbers are etched at a depth between five and seven microns,” Hardison explained while the laser ran around the diamond. “Using nanoblation, the UV laser pulses irradiate the etching.”

Parker walked in then with an open can of pop and handed it to Hardison. 

“Thank you, sweets.”

Kerrity turned to me, “I haven’t seen you contribute much to this partnership.”

I smiled softly, nodding towards Hardison, “He likes to show off in front of new clients, I don’t mind being more behind the scenes.”

He hummed curiously before turning back to Hardison who was taking the diamond out of the machine. I saw Hardison’s switch of the diamond for the cubic zirconia, only because I was looking for it. He handed the fake stone over to Kerrity to examine. Kerrity took it and looked it over with his own loupe. 

There was a tense moment when Kerrity looked at Hardison before he said, “It’s like it was never there.”

“I could do the rest in a day, but I’m only here for another week. I’ve got a thing in Antwerp.” 

“Alright,” Kerrity said, “let’s, uh, let’s do it tomorrow?”

“Done.”

“Excellent. Mr. Ice, Ms. Annaka.” Kerrity then left the lab with his Russian companion close behind. 

“Alright, nice work guys,” Nate said through comms. “Tomorrow, when he shows up with the diamonds, the state police will be there.”

“Why, so they can arrest Hardison’s ego?” Eliot asked as we exited the building. 

“They better bring some extra large handcuffs,” I laughed. 

“Be cool, baby. Ice cool,” Hardison replied. “Hey, who wants to go for a spin?”

“Can’t believe you rented a Ferrari,” Eliot said. 

“Rented?”

“I’ll get a ride home with Eliot,” Parker said. 

“Maybe some other time, Hardison,” I responded, “I’m kinda tired, gonna lay down in Eliot’s back seat.”

Hardison scoffed, “Y’all are just jealous,” but we were already crossing the parking lot. 

I did just what I said I was going to when I crawled in the back seat, leaving Parker and Eliot up front. I had to curl up a bit, but it was decently comfortable on the worn seat, making it soft.

“Hey, you alright?” Eliot asked once he pulled out of the parking lot.

“Yeah, I think I was just stressed, and now that this is almost over-” I yawned, “I’m just a bit tired is all.”

Eliot adjusted his rear view mirror a touch so he could make eye contact with me through it, “Well, ya did good. You deserve some rest.” I could feel the sincerity, even through the mirror and sunglasses he was wearing. I smiled and nodded at him, silently thanking him. 

Parker then turned and reached a hand towards me which I took with a squeeze, “Yeah, look at us, being grifters. I didn’t even stab anyone!”

“I’m proud of us, Parker,” I said, squeezing her hand one more time before taking my hand back and curling it next to me. My eyes then closed of their own accord, the steady hum of the engine lulling me, if not asleep, away from active wakefulness. 

Eventually we got back to the pub and Nate and I’s apartments. I slightly stirred when Eliot turned his truck off, but I couldn’t quite wake myself up until he placed a hand on my shoulder, calling my name. His hand was warm, the gentle movement slowly pulled me out of the slumber I had slipped into. I admit I was slow to move, but Eliot and Parker were patient with me until I got to my door. I trudged through my entry way to my couch, my limbs were heavy, as if I had been physically working all day for the past week. I must have been tense, holding all the stress in my body, for the past two days, trying to be natural and convince Kerrity of our legitimateness. 

Oh the irony.

I collapsed on the cushions, letting out a sigh in relief. If all went to plan, tomorrow I wouldn’t even have to play a character. It would all be in the police’s hands then. 

It didn’t seem like I was out for very long when Parker was standing above me, practically dragging me off my couch. 

“Did I forget to lock my door?” I asked, still waking up.

“No,” she responded simply. 

“What’s going on?”

“Hardison got kidnapped by the Russians.”

“Oh.”

We walked through the door to find Eliot angrily shoving an earbud in place, “Tell Hardison if he makes it out alive, I’m gonna snap him in half.”

“Uh, Eliot says hi,” Nate said, apparently into the comms to Hardison. “So what’s the plan there, Ice Man?”

I pulled my own earbud from my pocket and put it in, just in time to hear Hardison explain it, somewhat tactfully in the midst of… company. 

“Just so I’m clear, you want me to help break into Kerrity’s vault and steal his diamonds?”

“Oh, beautiful,” Nate commented. 

“So, what you’re sayin’ is we’re gonna explode through the ceiling of a tunnel, use a det cord and climb into the vault through the floor?”

“Det cord,” Eliot honed in. “That’s how they blew the armored truck.”

“Exploding through the floor will set the sensor off,” Parker said. “Tunnel’s a terrible way in.”

“Hardison, you’re gonna tell ‘em their plan won’t work,” Nate said. 

“Tunnel is a horrible way in,” Parker reemphasized. 

“I heard you Parker.”

We listened as Hardison relayed the news, which didn’t seem to go over well with the Russians to the point where Hardison had to commit to getting them in the vault. 

“Oh, yes. Of course you will,” Nate said, “Now listen. Hardison, you’re gonna have to figure out a way to buy some time so we can get you outta this. Yeah, get busy.” Nate then took his earpiece out with frustration. 

Nate was typing on Hardison’s computer for a little bit before he eventually said, “Guys, guys, I can’t make any sense of Hardison’s files.”

I gestured to it, pulling the computer a bit closer to me, sorting through files to see if there was anything I recognized. 

“Do you think you can…?” Nate asked me. 

I shook my head, “No idea, probably not.” I had helped Hardison out with some of his technical stuff a time or two, but he did most of the heavy lifting.

“You can’t track him,” Eliot pointed out, “he’s the one that does the tracking.”

“Well maybe he left it on,” Nate hoped. 

“Unlikely,” I said, sorting through more files, all of them encrypted. 

“What if we tell him to make a run for it?” Parker suggested. 

“They’ll kill him,” Eliot answered.

“Well, if he goes along with their plan, they’ll get arrested,” Parker pointed out. 

“We gotta find another way for Hardison to break in,” Nate concluded. 

“We need a closer look at the vault,” Parker said. 

“I’m working on it,” Nate said. 

Parker held a small can to us, “Hairspray, you’ll need this.”

“Let me ask you a question, man,” Eliot said. “If Hardison helps these Russians steal the evidence, how are we gonna prove Kerrity set up the robbery?”

“I’m working on it,” Nate stuttered. He gathered his clipboard and papers needed for his insurance agent persona. Parker handed him the can of hairspray; Nate took it and waved at us, “Do not call Sophie.” Nate then dashed out of the apartment, supposedly to Kerrity’s shop. 

I worked for a little bit longer on Hardison’s laptop, trying to find anything that could help, but  every time I thought I was close to cracking into something useful, I hit a dead end. I sighed, I would have to have Hardison teach me some of this stuff with his systems in case something like this happened again. When I was just about to give up, Nate got to Kerrity’s shop, and a notification popped up that a connected camera was in use. I cast the video onto the large screen in the living room so we could see what he was doing. 

Nate had a camera pen directed at Kerrity’s vault to gain more information, mostly for Parker, and for Hardison to relay to the Russians to pretend he knew what he was doing. 

“RGB keypad, let me see,” Parker said, “Move the camera to the left… No, vault left. Alright, then you have to do this my way. Remove the sensor while keeping the magnetic field intact. You are going to need a four inch by four inch aluminum plate, double sided tape, and a phillips head screwdriver.”

I slumped into the couch, watching Parker analyze the vault and listening to Hardison relay the information to the Russians. Eliot stood next to Parker, his focus as sharp as ever. The truth of the matter was, everyone here knew at least something that might help Hardison, but I was still stuck dead in the water. I watched, trying to learn.

Kerrity kept listing more safety features inside the vault: pressure sensitive tiles, two cameras monitored by a twenty four hour guard and Kerrity himself, seismic sensor, heat sensors, and motion sensors. This was becoming more and more difficult by the minute. 

“Hardison’s not gonna be able to do anything if the heat sensors are on,” Eliot said. 

“Nate, use the hairspray,” Parker instructed. “It creates a film that blocks the heat.”

Nate distracted Kerrity long enough to follow through. Then Kerrity told Nate about the security fog that fills the room after the alarm goes off; this fog makes visibility zero. To make matters worse, it would be triggered by any one of the other sensors.

“How bad is it?” Nate asked quietly once Kerrity was out of earshot. 

“There’s no way Hardison’s gonna be able to break into that vault,” Parker said matter-of-factly. 

“What is Hardison going to do?” Hardison asked, without the accent, so he must be away from the Russians. 

“Hardison is going to pretend to break into the vault,” Nate said. 

“Well, hopefully the Russians will only pretend to kill him,” Eliot replied. 

“No one’s getting killed,” Nate assured. “We’re gonna break in for him.”

The three of us just sat staring at each other, lost in our own thoughts, waiting for Nate to get back to explain what he was thinking. I could see the wheels turning in Parker’s head, going through all the steps to break into the vault. Eliot had a tenseness about him, whether that be anger or concern, I couldn’t tell. 

“We’re gonna do this quick and dirty,” Nate said once he got back. “You guys break into the vault before Hardison does, so the Russians think that he’s doing it.”

“Why not?” Parker said. “He’s been taking credit for my work all day anyway.”

“Then Hardison will lead the Russians into the vault a few paces behind him,” Nate concluded. 

“Hey, I got something,” Parker said after messing with Hardison’s clicker. The screen showed the security camera feed to the front of Kerrity’s store. Kerrity was showing a fancily dressed woman around his store along with all of the jewelry in the cases. 

“Hardison must have hacked into the security feed before he left,” Eliot said. 

“Well, well. I’m just gonna have to keep Kerrity out of his own vault,” Nate said, staring at the screen. 

We all then loaded up to go save Hardison. 

Once we arrived, Nate knocked on the door of the shop first. Kerrity quickly dismissed the woman with him, saying that he would meet up with her later, and let Nate in.

“This had better be important,” Kerrity said when he opened the door. 

“Yeah. Can we talk somewhere private?” Nate asked, stepping into the shop.

I then walked in, just catching the door before they went to his back office. 

Kerrity was surprised to see me, “Annaka?”

I smiled, obviously flicking my eyes between him and Nate. “Hello, Mr. Kerrity,” I said cautiously. 

He caught the hint, “This is Mr. Sterling with the insurance company, he came to discuss something with me.”

“I hope I’m not hindering something here,” Nate said as he shook my hand with a sickly sweet salesman voice that he’s been using. 

I shook my head, “Not at all.” I looked to Kerrity, “I don’t mind waiting, finish your business with Mr. Sterling.”

He nodded and brought Nate into his office.

Eliot was at the door just as they turned the corner in an armored truck company uniform with a cart. The guard buzzed him in just as I got to the door to open it for him. The guard came down with some paperwork for Eliot, assuming he was there for delivery. 

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he whispered to me as I held the door open for him to walk through more easily. He then turned to the guard, “Yo, yo. Late night man. Is there a register I’m supposed to look at?” Eliot was there at the dest with the guard by then and quickly knocked him out. “Sorry, buddy,” he said as he walked by.

I walked to Eliot and the guard, helping tuck him out of sight and out of the way for the rest of the night. 

“Okay Parker, you’re clear,” Eliot told her through comms, “come on down.”

She had perched herself on a ledge next to the security camera facing the street, holding a photo of an armored truck on the street for the guard’s benefit. I could almost feel her joy as she came down with her rig. I quickly let her in so she could get to the vault. I then stationed myself in the security room watching the cameras. I was out of sight and out of the way for the essential gears of the operation, but still in the shop if I needed to lend a hand somewhere, namely keeping Kerrity busy.

Nate was talking to Kerrity about his insurance policy and discrepancies that may deny his claim, trying to keep him occupied for as long as he could. So far, he was successful. Hopefully he could keep it up. 

Meanwhile, Parker was working on the vault, getting it cracked and ready for Hardison. 

“This will hold them together,” she said softly as she placed the aluminum plates on the vault. 

“Electric’s faster,” Eliot said as he handed her a screwdriver. 

“Vibrations will set off the seismic sensor,” she replied simply. 

Eliot shook his head and returned to the front of the store. 

Parker continued to work on the vault with quick efficiency. It was interesting to watch through the camera as there was no hesitation in any of her movements. 

It didn’t take as long as I had hoped for movement on the outside camera to catch my attention. A big black van pulled up in front with Hardison and the Russians hopping out of it. 

“Here they come,” I said.

Hardison reiterated it with his own quiet announcement, “Eliot, approaching the building. Approaching the building.” He then switched to his accent for the Russians, “Wait here, right? Gotta handle the initial break-in myself. Too many cooks and all.”

Eliot buzzed Hardison in when he banged on the door. They then proceeded to act out Hardison beating up Eliot. I winced, but was impressed at how realistic it looked when Eliot threw himself to the ground. Hardison continued to ‘punch’ Eliot for an extended amount of time while the two argued. 

“Next time,” Eliot said, “I’m playing the thief!”

“I’d like to hear you do an accent,” Hardison said. 

“I’d like to hear you do an accent,” Eliot replied.

“I went to Second City in Chicago.”

“You find time between that and karate at the Y?”

“You know what? Just shut up. Shut up.”

“Shut up,  guys,” Parker said calmly, trying to concentrate on the vault. 

She was able to get in when Hardison and Eliot finished their act, Eliot acting unconscious and Hardison letting in the Russians. Nate continued to distract Kerrity, shifting to his second point, the bribe. So far, so good. 

Eliot joined me in the security room and watched as Parker hung on the inside of the door and leapt to a bar or pipe on the ceiling, preventing her from touching the floor and triggering the pressure tiles. 

“Stuck it,” Eliot commented in praise. 

“Indeed,” I agreed, impressed. 

Hardison made his way to the vault, making a bit of a show of taking steps to crack the vault. He put a stethoscope to the vault door to ‘pick’ the vault combo.

“Parker wrote the combination in invisible ink on the door next to you,” Eliot told Hardison. “She’s in there, but she hasn’t deactivated the floor yet.”

“So take your time on the tumblers. Take it slow,” I said. 

He was able to delay a bit by talking to the Russians. “Sorry?” He asked when the leader spoke up. 

“I said you’re really everything you claimed,” the Russian repeated. 

Hardison shrugged, “If I’m lyin’, I’m dyin’.”

“Yes, you are. Yes, you are,” the Russian laughed. “I’m sorry, just a saying. English, very tricky.”

Hardison went back to the tumblers. 

“Hardison, slow down. You’re breezing through that combo, like, way too fast,” Eliot said. “Parker, what’s your ETA?”

“Not ready yet. Floor is still hot,” she replied. 

Eliot and I shared a concerned look. 

“Nate, our timing’s not gonna work out,” Eliot said.

Nate, of course, couldn’t answer as he was still keeping Kerrity busy. That was quickly reaching its end though as Kerrity wasn’t taking the bribing narrative that Nate was selling. 

“Parker, get a move on. Nate and Hardison are way ahead of you,” Eliot said. 

“The floor is clear.”

“Nate, Parker is still in the vault.”

The Russians were pressing Hardison to get in the vault, and he wasn’t doing a very good job of stalling. 

“I need sixty seconds,” Parker said.

“Well, can you turn invisible in sixty seconds? Cause they’re bustin’ in there,” Eliot replied. 

“I’m gonna go slow Hardison down, buy her some time,” I said, walking out of the security room. 

“Y/n-” Eliot tried to say, but I was already gone. 

I walked the hallway towards the vault until the Russians and Hardison came into view. Hardison was just about to open the door when I called, “Ice!”

The four of them turned to me, the Russians clearly not happy. I suddenly took a hard swallow, I might not have thought this through. 

“Annaka? What are you doin’ here?” Hardison asked, looking a bit relieved at the distraction.

“You think I wouldn’t find you? We had a plan when it came to situations such as these, you are undermining your reputation from a business perspective! Who is going to work with us now if you just keep stealing their stuff?” I said it all quickly and with exasperation. I could hear my own nervousness, and I hoped that the distance I kept between myself and the Russians wasn’t too suspicious. 

“I’m sorry, hun,” Hardison said, “But this was an offer I couldn’t refuse, I’m afraid.”

“Yes,” the Russian said, “Now if you’ll excuse us, we have a job to do.”

They turned back towards the door and away from me.

“Parker?” I whispered, not sure how else to hold them. 

“I’m clear,” she said. 

“Fine!” I said to the men in front of me, ready to make my leave, “But I want nothing to do with it!” I then turned on my heel and left the room, hearing the vault open behind me.

I heard Hardison say, “Don’t worry ‘bout her. She won’t do nothin’. Let’s get this done.” 

I went back to the security room where Eliot was watching the security feeds tensely. “How’s it going?” I asked once I stood next to him.

“Fine, thanks to you,” he said, “But that was reckless. Those Russians could have done somethin’ to you, could have killed you.”

I let out a shaky breath, “Yeah, I realized that once I got there.”

Our work here was done, so Eliot and I made our way out of the shop into the tunnel below for the final escape. 

“Guys, uh, Kerrity is on his way down there,” Nate said when he wasn’t able to hold him in his office any longer. 

Hardison was able to distract the Russians with Kerrity’s arrival long enough for Hardison to slip into Parker’s hiding spot, one of the large lock boxes. Parker blew a hole in the floor, dropping the two of them into the tunnel below where Eliot and I were waiting. This, coincidentally, also set off the seismic sensor and the security system. Who knew?

“Det cord,” Eliot explained simply to Hardison as we helped them up from the floor. 

We then made our way out of the tunnel to fresh air and freedom. Nate was waiting for us at the end of it.

“Thought we couldn’t use this tunnel,” Hardison said once we were out.

“Tunnel’s a horrible way in,” Nate replied, “but it’s a great way out.”

Once we were back, we reviewed what happened through the video feed Hardison had hacked. Hardison left the lock box with the diamonds tactfully open for when the police came to respond to the tripped alarm. This helped Lieutenant Bonanno find them; and with Kerrity reporting that his loose diamonds were stolen, this might as well have been an open and shut case. The matching ID numbers would just be the nails in the coffin. 

We were able to clear our client’s name and score him some cash from the swiped diamond we got after lasering off the ID number. As usual, this called for a celebration in the pub while Nate shared the good news with the client. 

Parker, Eliot, Hardison, and I all sat at the corner of the bar, it becoming a usual spot. Hardison turned back to the bar laughing after seeing the happy look on our client’s face.

“What are you smilin’ at?” Eliot asked. “You still screwed it up.”

“I’m smiling cause you said if I got in trouble, you wouldn’t help me,” he responded. 

“Parker made me,” Eliot excused. 

“No, I didn’t,” she denied. 

“Come on, man. Let’s hug it out,” Hardison said.

“I’m not hugging it out, Ice Man.”

“Just hug it… Just a little man love.”

“I’m not hugging it out with you.”

They went back and forth before Hardison forced himself onto Eliot in one of the most awkward hugs I’ve ever seen. Parker looked almost just as uncomfortable, but I just chuckled at them. 

Eliot eventually freed himself from Hardison’s grasp and stepped away from the bar. He stepped over to where I sat and said to me, “I promised you some pool practice, do you wanna go?”

I nodded, smiling at Parker and Hardison before turning fully to Eliot, “Yeah, let’s go.” I slid off the stool, standing next to him for a moment. 

He placed a hand on my shoulder and steered me towards the pool table at the back of the pub. His hand sent warmth through me, even as he was still grumbling about Hardison under his breath. I came to the conclusion that no matter how he looks at other women, Mikel, or anything else that may come up, I can still enjoy these moments with him. The moments where he’s comforting, protective, and now, when he just wants a bit of escape, and he could find that in me and playing pool, no matter my skill level. 

It might mean a little to him, these little moments, but they meant something to me, and that is all that really mattered.

A/n: Reblogs and comments are welcome and encouraged! Thank you for reading!

Tags: @instantdinosaurtidalwave @kniselle @technikerin23 @kiwikitty13 @plasticbottleholder

[batmanonthecover]

Batman #205 - September 1968 (DC Comics - USA)

Cover Art: Irv Novick

BLIND AS A ... BAT?

Script: Frank Robbins

Art: Irv Novick (Penicils) Joe Giella (Inks), Joe Letterse (Letters)

Characters: Batman [Bruce Wayne; also as a blind man]; Robin [Dick Grayson]; Commissioner James Gordon; Alfred Pennyworth; two armored car drivers; The Schemer (villain); Schemer's gang (villains); Brain Drain (villain, Schemer's pet owl)

Synopsis: The Police, believing that the Batman is dead, arrest and take in the Batman whom they believe is an imposter, while the real Batman, disguised as a blind man, aids Robin to prevent an armored car robbery. Robin is captured by the Schemer in the process but Batman outwits the Schemer in his attempt to down a plane loaded with gold.

Batman story #1246

[a-fantastic-time]

Ground Zero (Closed RP @forestofstarlight

The news were quick to the scene of the armed robbery that had been thwarted by pro hero Ground Zero. The number 2 hero, and quickly on the high rise for possible number one this year. A armored car had pulled up to the bank, and the robbers were just about to make their get away, when the car was blown upside down. The blonde bombardier grinned and ordered the men to drop the money and weapons. Only to be fired upon, and with quick thinking, and expert precision, took each one down with a series of explosions that did little to no damage to the bank's parking lot. Bakugo turned them over to the police, and even gave a small interview for the cameras. Only to fly off and saying he was going to be late for dinner. Quickly jumping from rooftop, to roortop. He finally home. Taking off his mask, he walked through the door way and shouted. "Im home!" He closed the door behind him, and began taking off his gear clumsily.

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Night Nurse - Ch 8

A John Wick x Helen Fic

When nurse Helen Morgan is caught in the crossfire of a shootout and aids the injured John Wick, she’s faced with two options: serve the High Table, or be executed as a Witness. She tells herself her choice to work at the Continental has everything to do with survival, and excellent pay, and *not* her growing feelings for the Tall, Dark, and Handsome Assassin™ who got her into this mess in the first place, thank you very much. │ Masterlist / Chapter Map │

VIII.

This was a day for firsts. John found himself seated at his dining room table, the modern behemoth that could seat ten, but had only ever serviced dinner for one. Later, there would be two. Now, it was being used as a medical table while Helen administered fresh stitches.

“This time,” she mused while finishing off a knot, “Let’s wait for you to heal completely before engaging in strenuous activity.”

“I would never get anything done.” She leveled him with a look, indicating this was not the correct answer. Though he knew he walked on dangerous ground, the corners of his mouth twitched. “Yes, Nurse.”

“That’s more like it.”

She applied a fresh bandage. “Try not to get this wet in the shower.”

He was no stranger to wound care routines. “Sure.”

As she pressed the last bit of adhesive her fingertips lingered over the curve of his deltoid, tracing the black cross there lightly. It caused a shiver to run down his spine. This time, he didn’t try to hide it.

“Are you…a religious man, John?”

He shook his head slowly, anticipating her next line of questioning.

“You have a lot of religious tattoos.”  

“They mean a certain thing to people in my world. It has very little to do with Christianity, believe me.”

“You mean, our world?”

John titled his head in a silent question of Really?

“Just saying. I made my oath to the High Table. No one’s come after me with a tattoo gun.”

“You haven’t done hard time,” he answered quietly. “And I would like to keep it that way.”

Her eyebrows shot high at that. “Were you in prison?”

“Once.”

“For how long?”

“Three years.”

“You didn’t get three years for homicide.”

“I was very well behaved.”

She narrowed her eyes, weighing him with that molten caramel gaze. “I think you’re fucking with me.” Hearing her say it, no matter the context, twisted him up with a sudden unforgiving wave of desire. Then, she sighed. “Sorry. You don’t have to tell me.”

He caught her hand before she could draw away, so quickly she’d barely seen him move.

“I’ll tell you,” he offered quietly.

“Okay.”

She stepped closer, standing between his splayed legs, as though sharing these dark secrets required a more intimate proximity. Her fingertips toyed with the ends of his hair, and not for the first time, John thought he might just die.

“I...said I was an orphan.”

“Yes.”

“My mother died in a car accident, when I was very young. Not long after, my father was…killed, in a street robbery.”

“Oh, John.”

“I spent years in the orphanage. When I proved strong enough to survive...I was adopted. Sold, more like. To a crime organization that took children to mold as they saw fit. They taught me how to kill, and they gave me these tattoos. The arm cross, for my first kill. It signified my devotion to their cause.”

Her eyes went wide. “How old were you?”

“Sixteen.”

“Shit.” There was the glimmer of tears in her eyes, and he felt a tremor inside, a fissure in his armor, cracked open by her compassion. He could not stop himself from holding her hand against his cheek with a desperation that he had not felt since he was a young boy. John closed his eyes, knowing he could not go on speaking while looking upon her lovely features pulled with such worry and pain, for him.

For him, he marveled, a creature so cloaked in darkness and destruction so as to never deserve forgiveness.

She truly was an angel of mercy.

“The praying hands came when I graduated from their school. It’s like a brand of ownership. It means…the bearer is asking for mercy that is rarely granted. Not from God though. From…Her. The woman who ran the syndicate. She was our God. Our judge. Our Executioner.” John found he couldn’t bring himself to name the Ruska Roma to Helen. He had a sinking intuition that it could be dangerous. A feeling that she might do something brave, and stupid, like ask around until she found the Tarkovsky theatre, and march out to tell The Director off on his behalf, with that magnificent Irish temper of hers. 

“That is horrible. You can't own people,” she protested, her words brittle. He almost smiled for her naivety.

“You can, where I come from. Where life is cheap, and freedom is a fairytale. It’s how most of the world lives, sweetheart.” The endearment slipped from his lips before he could stop himself. She did not seem to take offense though, so absorbed in the horror of what he was telling her.

“But...this wasn't the Tarasovs who did this to you?”

“No. They bought me, essentially, when I was a young man. I was becoming difficult to control. She didn’t quite manage to break me, like so many of the others. I wanted…more, than the enclosed world She allowed us to inhabit. I think She sensed I would tear down what she’d built, if She didn’t let me go. In a way…Tarasov was a blessing. At least in the Bratva you can have a life that is somewhat your own, so long as you get done what Viggo needs done.” 

“Oh, John…”

It was so heartbreaking to her, that his formative years had been so brutal that joining the fucking Russian mob had been a kinder placement.

But there was more, and now that he’d started talking about it, it was as though he couldn’t stop. The words just kept pouring.

“I didn’t put it together until I was much older, but I suspect my father was like me. He came from the same…syndicate. Raised to do what I do from a young age. But he must have run away to be with my mother. I think they found him and killed him for it, then She took me as…revenge? Payment? A warning? I’ve never known for sure.”

He had not found out, from an offhanded comment here and some digging there, until long after he’d left the Ruska Roma. If he’d known when he was a young firebrand, he absolutely would have burned the Tarkovsky Theatre to the ground no matter the consequences.

“Jesus, John.”

John finally opened his lids when he felt her fingers sliding through his sweat-damp hair, her eyes filled with compassion. He did not resist when gently she pulled him into an embrace, his cheek resting against her chest. The steady beat of her heart beneath his ear calmed him, grounded him from the spiral calling up these memories could inspire. Her hand rested on the crown of his head, and maybe it was ridiculous, but…for the first time, in a very long time, he felt safe.

He could have stayed there forever, but it seemed…disingenuous, to take advantage of her compassion that way. Little did he know, she would have held him for hours if he asked her to.

She looked down at him like she could see straight through him, nodding slowly to all this information he’d imparted, her fingers still sliding languorously through his hair.

“If I ever meet this bitch, I’m going to punch her in the face.”

The very thought pulled the tiniest suggestion of a smile from John’s lips. “I believe you. And that’s why I’m not giving you a name.”

“Are there that many women-led crime syndicates in New York?”

“You might be surprised.”

“Hmm. So…if the Tarasovs bought you….Jesus, I hate that…do they still own you?”

His heart felt as though his blood had thickened to lead. But they’d come this far, and he owed her nothing less than the truth. 

“I’ve climbed the ranks. I have standing. I’m not a slave, but no one gets out, when you’re in as deep as I am. It would require…an Impossible Task.”

The furrow between her brows broke his heart. He wondered if that quick and beautiful mind was absorbing all this information, sorting it out and weighing the gains and the consequences…and inevitably arriving at the only sane conclusion: how can you be with a man, if he’s owned by someone else?

It was a conclusion she had every right to make, but it hurt. It hurt in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time, an ache deep in a part of his heart he hadn’t managed to numb over the years.

“Are you happy now, at least?” 

The question only further twisted the knife. Only recently, had he begun to actually feel that elusive emotion. It had more to do with her than any of the relative freedom or vast wealth he’d accrued.  

“I'm...getting there.” A part of him wanted to finish the thought. Because of you. But his conscience stopped him—he didn’t want the burden of his happiness resting on her shoulders, when already this amazing woman carried so much. He had to lighten the mood, or their evening would be ruined, and it would be all his fault.

“You know there was one good thing She taught me.”

“Oh?”

“How to dance.”

“What?”

“Ballet.”

Helen frowned at the absurdity of this notion before laughing out loud. “I think you’re fucking with me again.”

John decided to take that moment to stand, the fronts of their bodies nearly pressed in a line. His hands found her tiny waist, as though it was their natural resting place. “I’ll prove it to you. Want to do a lift?”

“Don’t you dare!” she squealed, skipping away across the floor, putting a chair between them. “I am not redoing your stitches again!” It took every iota of his self-control not to give in to his hunter’s instincts and chase her, grab her up, and finally slant his mouth over hers to make her his. He found his cheeks hurt from the strain of grinning wider than he ever had, though he feared it might more resemble a baring of teeth.

Helen’s eyes shone with laughter, her lips parted. She really was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

   “Did you do that just to cheer me up?” she asked, the softness in her voice squeezing his heart like a fist.

“Would I do such a thing?”

She narrowed her eyes, seemingly for the umpteenth time that day. “I am going to go take a shower, Mr. Wick. And you had better get started on that dinner you promised me.”

“Yes ma’am.”

He watched her disappear down the hall towards the guest bedroom, a lightness in his heart that almost confused him. Was this the relief to be found in confessing one’s sins? Or was it her? Just the miracle that was Helen Morgan, and these feelings she inspired in his breast. He dared not name it; for anything John Wick had ever loved, had died in some way.

He couldn’t bear to curse Helen too.

[cherokeeghostwriter]

Tagged by the @purplemonkeysexgod69 (off script as well)

Married for 37 years. Met my wife while hanging out at a friends house. She was his kid sister, and she followed us around everywhere trying to be one of the boys. Slowly fell in love with her over a couple of years time. One day I stopped by and she came out of the house with a couple of suitcases, threw them in the back of my 69 roadrunner, and said “get me the hell away from here” we've been running together ever since.

When I was very young I was partial to the color green. If I had to pick a color back then it was inevitably green of some shade. As the years have gone by I find myself preferring blue more often as not. It also depends on the subject. If we’re talking about photography for instance, then I favor Black and white. 

Back in the 60′s my father owned a Karate school, and he would take me to work with him instead of a babysitter to save money. All of the students sort of kept an eye on me. My father back in that time made a habit of Associating with what my mother described as criminals, or hoodlums. One day, one of these fellows came by to see my father, and after chatting with him he leaned down to talk to me and said “show me what you got kid” so I side kicked him in the mouth and bloodied his lip. it’s one of the few times I can remember my mother praising me. 

I started writing poetry in 1993 while serving time in a federal penitentiary for being involved in an armored car robbery. I took a job in the library and had too much time on my hands, so I began to read. I came across an old relic of a book that had a few of Emily Dickinson's poems in it, and after reading them something clicked inside and I began to hear words and lines of poetry. My brain needed something to concentrate on, and poetry was a blessing for me. After I was released I stopped writing for many years until I accidentally found myself here on tumblr, and took it up again. I don’t know if any of it is good, but I have written at least two poems that I consider worthy. 

Ok... food. My favorite food is Smoked brisket. I smoke it myself and it takes around 20, to 22 hours to get it done. There is nothing better in my opinion. 

I guess that’s enough for now. I tag @distilled-prose @rivermusic Write whatever you want to share.

[sisterofficerlucychen]

so i was rewatching 6x01 for like the fifth time as one does and i had a thought as they explained the physical and cyber robbery at the federal reserve as well as boyd's criminal past - what if the mastermind was claire ivey? there were some things said in s6 premiere that reminded me a lot of things that happened in her episode?

motive

in the 97 minutes before "flashback" nolan asks, "most likely, but who's gonna spend a fortune to kick a hornet's nest? who volunteers to piss off the entire LAPD?" to which bailey answers, "somebody with their own agenda" claire successfully avoided getting caught for decades until they were finally able to pin something on her and get it to stick

she wasn't too happy or interested in getting arrested lol

right before she surrendered nolan reminded her about how she pulled off breaking into the vatican that escaping from prision couldn't be that hard - i think everything that happened in 5x22/6x01 and whatever's going to happen could also be lumped into this category

means

unless they were able to pin every single other heist she did once she was arrested, it's likely she's still very rich considering she was pulling off multimillion dollar heists for at least two decades

monica says to the person on the phone that "that kind of advice costs extra" seemingly 100k extra

skill

it was such an elaborate plan, one "planned to the nth degree" every single one of her heists including the one she got caught for were so meticulously planned, she was always a few steps again (until she wasn't lol)

the exchange nolan and lucy have as they waited for her outside her hotel where he reminds her that she's a criminal not a role model and when lucy asks why she can't be both, his response is that she's "evil"

crew

her crew was always the best of the best, the most skilled in their areas of expertise and considering how they weren't able to identify the crew that died at the scene - no fingerprints, dna, or social media presence in any database - whoever hacked and scrubbed all of that information must be a top tier hacker

boyd was described as a "picasso of big-money heists" meaning it's possible claire and boyd paths have crossed before

misc. (idk what to call this lol)

she done v bad things for far less - she killed the celebrity stylist for a piece of paper (the delivery schedule for the armored car)

boyd who seemed to be the "big bad's" right hand man was taken out of the game the moment he became a possible problem, they also killed many of their own to further advance toward their end goal. claire ordering to get rid of whoever got in the way would check out

while we've never seen these two interact, monica working for claire feels fitting??? that would be her type of lawyer

if you've read this far, thanks for entertaining my shenanigans ♡ i know it'll likely be elijah (and oscar, if they're in kahoots, especially from that last scene where we saw them meet) but wouldn't this be a cool plot twist????

[lorena12me]

The Last Grand Theft

Here in AO3

Summary:

In a world where Tim lost his parents and was never Robin, the only ones who reached out to him were Bernard and the Dowd family, Tim owes them for taking him in and Bernard too owes them for allowing him to help the person he loves most in the world. They will go out of their way to show that they are helpful and can be trusted. It doesn't matter if helping pull off muggings and robberies in Gotham City is the way to do it!, it's what you do for family, right?

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Speed up, Red, speed up!" yells Prod as he shoots for the car window and Tim hits the pedal and drives in reverse, making the streets just a blur of indistinguishable lights. Tim only has eyes to dodge the vehicles that cut across mid-street as they flee from the greatest threat of a Gothamite criminal.

The Bats.

As a child, Tim had imagined a thousand times to be one of Gotham's protectors, flying through the air as the city shone beneath his feet, growing up and helping under the guidance of the incredible bat and his ever-growing flock of birds, making a name for himself in the world's superhero and vigilante community.

Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that his parents would end up dead in an attack that Batman and Robin failed to stop when he was fourteen and then he would be sent into the system, spending a couple of years bouncing from house to house until Bernard managed to convince his father and mother to help him.

He would never have guessed that the reason his parents had been so reluctant to take him in wasn't because they hated him or resented his friendship with Bernard...It was because....

"Stop!" shouts Spoiler's female, imposing voice as he tries and fails to fire his grappling hook into the tires of their armored vehicle, flanking them with his motorcycle on the left as Black Bat's shadowy figure swooped in from the right in his own Bat-branded vehicle.

"Holy shit!" Prod or better known as Bernard Dowd, her boyfriend, exclaims as he extends his hand towards the inside of the vehicle, in Tim's direction "Red, the rubber bomb!"

Tim hurries to pass her the little green beads of his own invention, recently perfected and watches as his partner tosses them towards Spoiler's motorcycle and a blast of the synthetic compound gets tangled in the front tire of her Spoiler-Cycle causing her to lose speed and be forced to brake.

One less danger, but Black Bat is still in the race.

The quietest and second most dangerous bat after Batman (Who is being distracted across town by Mr. and Mrs. Dowd) swoops in. He jumps onto the hood of the vehicle and clings with the black claws of his suit to the metal of the car trying to grab Bernard. Tim pulls his friend inside the vehicle and closes the armored window, while both activate the air filtering mechanism of their masks to avoid being sedated with the capsule that Black Bat managed to sneak in before the window finished closing.

Tim begins to shake the vehicle dangerously, trying to dislodge Black Bat from its hood, when they hear on their communicators Mr. and Mrs. Dowd speak.

"Cargo secured Prod, Red, you may return to base."

Both friends look at each other and nod and Bernard presses the red button which causes the car's roof to detach, throwing Black Bat onto the road. Tim made sure to slow down a bit so the vigilante wasn't going to get seriously hurt, but he still grimaces as he sees her bounce several times on the street before they turn the corner and lose sight of her.

"Performing maneuver D-r345" Tim answers the comm.

"Roger, over and out."

The maneuver is basically to lose any trace of the bats and abandon the vehicle in a designated area where the self-destruct mechanism will activate and erase any evidence and clues that the bats could exploit to find them or discover their identities.

Two hours later, civilians Tim and Bernard arrive home as the bats are just finding the smoldering remains of their vehicle.

"We're home, mom, dad!" exclaims Bernard happily as both boys enter the kitchen where a luscious smell is flooding the house

"Welcome, children" smiles Mrs. Dowd warmly as she tastes the food in the slow cooker and nods in satisfaction "Just in time to celebrate children!"

Both boys take their places at the table as Mr. Dowd comes up from the basement with a bottle of expensive wine and laughs jovially.

"Another successful mission, boys" he celebrates "All thanks to you."

"Oh, it's no big deal... Henry" Tim still has trouble addressing the adults in his life by first name, but he tries "You were the ones who stood up to Batman."

"No dear" Mrs. Dowd shakes her head "Without yours and my son's inventions we couldn't have done it, that sticky liquid actually worked pretty well, Batman couldn't get off the ground fast enough to stop us!" she laughs, pleased remembering Batman cursing as he remained glued to the ground and Robin growling in anger when he suffered a similar fate.

Once upon a time, Tim would have imagined using his brains and inventions to help the bats. Now, all his efforts are devoted to sabotaging them so his boyfriend's family can get away with stealing and destroying shit in Gotham.

Whatever. It's not like he owes the Bat or his pack anything, he thinks angrily when he remembers being at his parents' funeral after Batman failed them, alone and lost enduring the hungry gaze of his parents' associates who couldn't wait to divvy up the leftovers of their wealth.

"It will be a small glass for each of you until you turn 18, boys" Mr. Dowd says as he uncorked the bottle and began pouring wine into the glasses "But you deserve to celebrate with us this great achievement boys, I'm proud of you two"

He was definitely proud as the vault in his basement held several bars of gold and diamonds, stolen directly from the Gotham City Bank.

Tim smiled, feeling that refreshing sense of pride that accompanied Bernard's father's praise. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at his boyfriend and realized he was smiling too, because they had both fought so hard to help the family and deserved to have their accomplishments recognized.

"Now we just have to relax, until the next opportunity" Mrs. Dowd says softly as she finishes putting the food on the table and claps her hands to let everyone know that dinner is about to begin "I hope you are concentrating on your studies, boys, although I know I don't have to worry about you, my little geniuses."

Tim smiles and then his mind travels back in time to the moment Bernard called him on his old, broken phone and exclaimed loudly and excitedly that his parents had finally agreed to take him into their home, so he wouldn't keep hopping from foster home to foster home.

He remembers being terribly frightened, carrying only a backpack with what few clothes he had and an old photo of his parents (he had discarded all photos of Batman after they failed him so terribly), only to be taken to the basement that very night and Tim was horrified, thinking they were going to murder him.

"If you're going to be one of us, Timothy" he remembers Mr. Dowd saying in a stern voice "Then you have to know who the Dowd family are."

Then they revealed to him who they were. A gang of bank and museum robbers. At the time they weren't famous enough to have a name of their own, but Tim already knew of a couple of heists committed by them.

"We are trusting you with such an important secret only because our son has begged us to trust you, we expect you to reciprocate in kind" the "and if you don't..." had been heavily implied.

But Tim no longer had anything to lose and his admiration for Batman had died along with his parents, so he welcomed this new life with open arms and strove along with Bernard to prove to the Dowd's that he was useful.

They had both succeeded. Bernard had even confessed to him that since Tim had been with them, his parents had become more proud of Bernard since they had made themselves useful and devised new devices and codes and plans so that the heists managed to get bigger and bigger and the family made their own name.

They had gone from being ordinary thieves to practically Rogues in their own right.

Dinner passed in lively conversation, everyone casually commenting on certain parts of their recent heist, which had gone perfectly and needed a polish for the next opportunity.

Dinner ends and they are both sent to their rooms while Mr. and Mrs. Dowd go down to the basement, probably to count and record the winnings.

Tim and Bernard lie down together (they are allowed to sleep together if they keep the door open) and Bernard rests his head on his boyfriend's chest.

"Do you think we'll be able to quit when we go to college?"

"...I hope so."

They had both talked about it and even though it was a little while before high school was over, neither of them really wanted to devote their lives to crime.

"Just..." Bernard whispers "I think if we keep going like this one day they're going to want more than we can handle and we're all going to get screwed."

"...But we don't want to let them down...we have to reciprocate everything they've done for us" Tim recites, because it's the truth. They can't just abandon them like this, they took care of Tim when no one else would.

Bernard nods, both aware that they can only hope they'll be allowed to get out of it safely, before it's too late.

But six months later, Tim and Bernard were led by Mr. and Mrs. Dowd to the basement base and after putting a stack of folders, index cards and maps on the table, they were given the instructions for their new objective.

"We're going to pull off our biggest heist to date" Mrs. Dowd says, all sharp smiles and hunger on her face.

"What's it all about, Dad?"

"We're going to kidnap one of Bruce Wayne's sons and use him to open his private vault in the Wayne Enterprises building."

Holy Shit.

[wanderingwomanwondering]

I had 911 playing in the background while I was working on some stuff and realized that the 6b buddie is full of callbacks/parallels to 509 past is prologue, especially some of the toni and clive narrative beats.

Clive is shocked by his car and bumps his head. He has a sort of 611 “in another life” moment when he mistakes hen for toni and then tells the story of how he used to know her

Clive referenced toni’s “armor” and her fear of letting romance into her life because she’s “taken a lot of shrapnel”. Sounds like eddie to me.

During the 509 casino robbery talk, toni explicitly said “a fool and his money are soon parted” (loosely) linking buddie via buck’s math superpowers and the poker date in 613 to toni and clive’s love story. Remember toni fell in love with clive but chose hen and her first husband. This feels connected to eddie in 615 focusing on his past with shannon via chris instead of choosing his future with buck and chris. I know he has good reasons for being stuck in this mode but still an interesting connection to the toni/clive story.

We got our intro to eddie chris and telenovelas in 509 when eddie compares the drama of toni and clives multidecade saga to a telenovela. He showed great interest in learning the story, giving ideas for how to help clive and toni rekindle their romance, and hoping for a happy ending. We see eddie and chris actually watching one in 615, the very ep where eddie was thinking about the past with shannon (along with chris) and having an emotional reaction to buck feeling seen by natalia and also trying to date her.

There was also the whole 509 hen and toni conversation about glimpsing a better future but being afraid to step into it because of family duty and feelings of guilt/shame. Hen said toni was sad and felt alone in her marriage and that clive was her second chance at a happier future. This basic sentiment feels directly tied to eddie now in s6. We could argue that eddie felt alone and isolated plus the guilt/shame of choosing fear over parenthood/partnership back when he was with shannon. Now that he’s on the precipice of something romantic with buck circa 615 cemetery scene, he’s probably feeling alone and guilty again because he hasn’t expressed his feelings (which his healing arc kinda requires) and is in a holding pattern just waiting for something.

Hen told her mom in 509 to seek happiness now, despite the mistakes of the past. Tia Pepa basically did the same thing in 614 with eddie.

509 is also where we got the chloe and gabi emergency call. It was all about gabi running from/not really facing her problems. But also about finally not running/leaving when things got tough with the pen thru chloe’s chest. Sound familiar?

Then there was the whole gem during that chloe and gabi rescue about needing to save one of them before being able to save the other. Plus oil (something rich and precious) trying to get out but being contained by the weight of the people holding it in. *screaming in 615* I could say more about the symbolism of all that in the context of s6 buddie but I gotta sleep eventually lol

Then in the 509 closing scenes:

Toni: Hi! Sorry I’m late.

Clive: But you’re worth the wait.

If this isn’t buck and eddie i don’t know what is. The 615 cemetery scene felt like eddie loudly waiting on buck to see him and understand his feelings. But nope. Buck’s not there yet and eddie needs to speak/express.

Uh, Yeah. So in summary 509 was doing a lot of work to set up key themes and issues in 6b. I’m here for it 🤡🤡🤡

[greetingfromthedead]

C63: Daylight Robbery

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Series Rating: 18+ / Explicit

Chapter: 63/84

Words: 1.8k

No particular warnings for this chapter.

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"Knock, knock, fuckers!" One of the bandits laughs, "Better open up!"

"Yeah-ha! The Rowdy Rebels are in town!" A different one yells out.

The women usher the children off the streets, many pushing past you into the inn. There are shouts of help and a lot of running. You stop in the middle of the street to figure out your next moves.

"What ya'll yelling for? All your men are asleep! Robbery by daylight, what could be easier?!" The first one laughs maniacally, and the engine of the car revs. You pull out two knives from under your arms and keep them hidden by the cloak. Your eyes find Vash standing in front of the pawnshop, his hand ready to grab his weapon as needed.

This situation makes you worried; they will plow over Vash, and you doubt his small caliber can do too much damage to the armored vehicle.

"Get out of the way or become jam! It's up to you!" a third ruffian yells and points his gun towards your man.

You take off running again; your legs push off the ground hard and quickly bring you to the car. You throw your knife at the man pointing a gun at Vash; the circular part of the hilt smashes hard against his fingers, making him loosen the grip on the weapon. You grab hold of it and disarm it with the same motion as you throw it on the ground. The unfired bullets clink on the cobblestone. The memories of you learning about guns came back with the other things you experienced from your training on Earth.

"A woman?!" The man sounds surprised, but you cut his exclamation short by grabbing hold of him and trying to pull him to the ground, but you quickly find he is attached to the roof with a safety strap. You use your other knife to throw it into a gap in the armor plates in a way that also cuts through the strap itself. Another strong yank, and the bandit lays on his back, surrounded by a cloud of dust. You quickly knock him out with your fist before turning your attention back to the car.

It has only been a few seconds since the now unconscious gunslinger alerted to others to your presence, and you see them peeking over the top of the car, one raising his machine gun onto the roof too, and you duck away from the line of fire. You hear two gunshots from Vash's direction, but you don't check what he did; you know you can trust him.

"Don't just sit there! Do something! Floor it! Get the bitch off us!" The man with the machine gun yells, and you jump up to grab onto the car the same moment the side door opens and the car goes into motion.

"Thanks!" you shout at the dude looking out the door as you grab his collar and pull him out of the moving car. That idiot was not strapped in; he had one arm over his rifle, so he was easy pray. You jump into the car and find yourself in the passenger seat. The driver looks at you with wide eyes.

"Hello!" you say cheerfully before knocking him out too. His leg rests harder on the gas pedal, but thanks to the manual transmission, it just makes the motor rev hard and doesn't allow the car to get completely out of control. Still, it moved fast enough, right towards the pawn house and Vash.

You give the area a quick scan, determining where it's safe and where it's not. Vash has his gun raised and aims above you. From the clunking on the roof, it's a safe bet that a bandit has climbed onto the top of the car. You grab the wheel and pull it towards yourself, changing the course very suddenly. You hear more thumps above you, indicating the gangster is rolling off again, probably taking his minion still hanging off the side with him. The driver's foot slips off the pedal, and you reach over with your own leg to hit the brake. The car stalls out in the street. As you're about to jump out of the car again, metal meets your throat, pulling you hard against the back of the seat and crushing your airway. You hadn't even noticed there was a backseat. Your hand grabs hold of the rifle and simply pulls it away, your raw strength overwhelming the guy behind you. The backdoor behind the driver opens, and one dude jumps out. More gunshots echo a moment later, just as you twist the arm of the bandit behind you until he yelps in pain. You take his gun before you get out of the car.

You walk around the nose of the car to see one bandit on the ground, one getting his ass beat by Vash and another one readying his revolver.

"You're done!" Vash says as he pistol whips the guy who threw hands with him, and he falls down. With one smooth motion, he has his weapon up again, and the bullet he fires knocks the revolver out of the last guy's hand. You see the dude scramble while you walk up to him and use his friend's rifle as a club. The last guy who tried to choke you stumbles out of the car and manages to take a few steps towards you.

"Retreat you idiots while you still can!" You recognize the voice of the gang leader. He addresses his men before turning to someone on Vash's other side. "You people have the audacity to run and scream for help while your town is protected by the Humanoid Typhoon and his crony? You left all the other villages to fend for themselves while you have this?"

You look over to see a middle aged man in a dark suit. He has peppered hair, and he looks tired. A revolver hangs from his hip as he walks up to the leader of the bandits.

"We haven't hired anyone," the man says, anger clear in his voice. "But how dare you come to rob our town, son? After all we have done for the villages. We suffer together, and you come to take the last of our money? You're no better than the heathens."

"Anyone with half a brain takes what they can and leaves this place before we're all sold off to December!"

"And you fool, come to take the money of one of the members of your own community?!" The older man draws his revolver. "We here in Juukei have our own way of dealing with vermin like you!"

You see Vash step between the two men with his hands raised and his revolver put away.

"Now, now, let's not get violent," he says, trying to soothe the feuding parties.

"Is it true?" The man in the suit turns to Vash. "Are you the Humanoid Typhoon?"

You swallow, afraid it will turn into another fight. Your eyes scan over the streets. You see the women and children peeking out from behind windows and doorways, while the men have armed themselves again and taken up positions on the streets. Your hand reaches for the knife on your thigh; the other is still holding a rifle like a club.

"I am Vash. At your service!" The Plant smiles kindly, yet his posture is awkward as he reaches out his gloved hand.

The other man hesitates for a moment, taking his revolver into his left hand and shaking Vash's with his right one.

"You don't seem like a bad kid, son. I'm Jesse Donovan; I'm the mayor of this town, and we've got a real problem." The gentleman speaks, looking only at Vash, like the group of bandits doesn't exist at all.

You're still tense as a drawn bow, unsure where all this is heading. The armed men seem menacing, and the bandits are regaining consciousness one by one. You see the mayor's gaze move to you, and you tense up more, wondering what is going on.

"And who is that enchanting young lady?" He asks kindly, and the anger in his voice is gone. You take a few steps closer, so you stand beside Vash.

"I'm Iris," you say, shaking the man's hand, your ears trained on any noises coming from behind you.

"You remind me a little of my daughter." Sadness glints in his eyes before he turns back to Vash. "And here lies our problem. We are plagued by the traffickers from December. Apparently there is a clientele for people, and the Snatchers keep coming to our region to kidnap our families. We have been trying to do our best, but the December government ignores our pleas, saying our claims are outrageous and neither November nor July want to get mixed up in this. Many towns and villages between here and December have been abandoned already. We are weakened; we can't keep a constant watch for the Snatchers and lowlife bandits, too. It's too much, and on top of that... we don't know what has happened to our loved ones. They took my daughter and my sister, too. Many have lost their children and wives to these monsters. We aren't strong enough to get them back. But if you are truly the Humanoid Typhoon... with your reputation, surely you could put an end to these horrors. We don't have much money, but we will be able to scratch something together. Everyone will pitch in to get their loved ones back."

"Alright," Vash nods after Mr. Donovan is done speaking. "We don't want your money. All I ask is that you let these men go."

He points at the figures on the ground, most rubbing their heads and trying to get a bearing on what is going on. Their leader's eyes are wide as they stare at Vash.

"Don't shed any more blood. You need everyone to keep strong. Juukei and the surrounding villages need to keep a united front if we're going to December," his voice is resolute.

"If that is all you want, I humbly beg for your help, Vash the Stampede." The mayor puts away his revolver and slightly lowers his head.

Vash looks over to you, and you give a reassuring nod. A slight smile dances on your lips. He turns back to the man in front of him.

"You've got a deal. We will go to December to put an end to the Snatchers. We will get your people back; we will try," Vash says to Jesse, and you swallow at his last declaration. You don't know who the people are sold to or for what purpose. People can be incredibly cruel; you speak from experience, so all you can do is to hope that you can find them and they are able to come back. At the very least, you need to stop the Snatchers and keep them from doing more harm to these communities.

Mayor Donovan and Vash shake hands before the older man shakes yours too again, muttering words of gratitude. He promises to fund any gear and bullets you may need. The bandits leave town on foot, stripped of their weapons, and the townsfolk, while still careful, approach you to confirm what they just heard.

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