This is my first shot at doing an AU, so read with caution.
It's a subtle Batman and Catwoman kind of thing, where Maya Hart is a skilled thief and Lucas Friar is a handsome young billionaire. I have no idea whether or not it will be a multi-chaptered fic. I have a few ideas for storylines, but I'm still considering.
MAYA HART
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For a moment, she glanced down at the noisy city of lights from her perch on the balcony. She could feel the dark iron bar cutting in the skin of her clenched hands, and her feet wobbled precariously. Hopping down and onto the deck, she paused to catch her breath.
The room was blanketed in inky shadows as dark as the star-speckled sky above.
Tentatively, she tapped the glass door with a fingernail, then rapped on it with a silent fist. It wasn't very thick, and wobbled oh-so-slightly. Perfect. Busting through wouldn't be worth it – and there was no lock to pick. It must open from the inside, she reasoned. Quickly, she reached into her satchel and drew out a black instrument that glinted wickedly in her hand.
The tool worked its magic, gliding through the glass like a knife through butter. Seconds after carving a circular hole, she tapped the piece out and watched as it tumbled safely to the carpeted floor on the other side. The thick rug muffled any sound it would had made if it had collided with wood floors.
Slipping a hand through the opening, she wrapped her fingers around the knob on the other side, and pulled downward.
Click.
The doors opened, and she stepped into the room.
She could make out the outline of several armchairs, a desk, and small couch accompanied with footstools, but not much more than that. Knowing Lucas Friar by reputation, she reasoned that all of this was probably designer stuff, and each individual piece could be sold online for a few thousands. That didn't matter tonight.
Her eyes were fixed on another prize; a safe, two by three feet, guarded by five inches of solid glass and three inches of solid steel after that, all sealed imperviously by a padlock.
She'd been scouting it for weeks – whatever was in this vault had to be worth at least a million. Friar had never been too tight with his money, as it didn't matter anyway. The young billionaire could buy a small country and then some, and still have green piles of freshly minted dollar bills to roll around in.
Sliding a spray bottle from her leather bag, she shook the object and yanked a finger around the lever, sending a stream of fine mist into the room.
The darkness was soon highlighted with red lasers, revealed by the contents in the bottle. They snapped throughout the entire room, a hidden challenge for any unwelcome intruder. Whoever designed this was clearly no amateur, as the spaces and angles would be almost impossible to get through without being sliced in half.
Not for her, though.
Duck down, twist here. Bend this way, lean that way. Spin clockwise, step counterclockwise. Years of gymnastics and yoga had paid off – not to mention her experience with high-tech heists.
Expertly maneuvering through the trap, she made her way towards the safe stored in the wall. Swinging her leg up and over the last line of lasers and catapulting onto the rug, she breathed a sigh of relief.
That was one of the best-quality traps she'd ever beaten, an all-time record for sure. And even better than this satisfaction was the prize that was sure to follow. Leaping to her feet, she grasped the clinking chains and tugged.
No use.
Pulling out a small walkie-talkie, she held it up to her mouth and sighed.
"Farkle, do you read me?"
No response but the crackling of static.
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"Hello, Lady."
"Farkle. I thought we agreed, the codename is 'Mockingbird'."
"And I was supposed to be the 'Oracle'. I thought it had a nice ring to it."
"Farkle."
"So, any sight of the White Eagle?"
"Stop."
"What? Lucas Friar won't mind whatever we call him – he'll be a lot more pissed when he realizes that -"
"Farkle, concentrate. I've gotten to the safe -"
"Already?"
"Yes – and now I need your calculations of the interior."
"I thought you were just interested in the contents?"
"I am. But I need to know whether or not I can smash my way through without damaging what's inside."
"Best not, Babe. The interior is just about one by one foot every way around, which you could work with, but they've programmed an alarm to trigger if anyone tries to force their way inside. You'll have to go the hard way."
"Fine. And don't call me Babe."
Jiggling the pin in the lock, she bit her lip and set to work.
She could feel her inner clock ticking as the minutes went by. The pin slipped, and she restrained herself from slamming a fist into the wall out of frustration. None of the inner mechanics were responding, not like they should.
Her cheeks grew hot, and her fingers ached.
But still, she worked.
A cry of triumph could be heard as she yanked away the lock and shoved the thick chains to the ground.
It was hers! A brief flash of light glowed behind her, and she turned just in time to see the lasers disappear, deactivated and dead.
Oh, the glory of the night.
Slamming open the thin metal door, her eyes widened in delight. There, there it was. Her prize, her salvation – laying on a cushion of maroon velvet and golden tassels, calling out to her, "Maya, Maya, Maya". The glow of the small compartment illuminated her face in the dark, and she could have danced for joy. This was it. Her moment, her turning point, was here. Drunk on her own glory, she gave a small laugh.
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A thin layer of glass protected the valuable from her twitching fingers, and she moved to flip it open until -
Fingerprint required for identification.
"What?" she hissed, her jubilance fading. Farkle hadn't mentioned this.
Fingerprint required for identification.
The red words faded on the surface, only to pop up again, this time with a small beeping noise that increased every second.
Maya didn't have a fingerprint copy, but she sure as hell wasn't going to start all over.
"Oh, screw inconspicuous." she muttered to herself, feeling her rage take over.
CRASH!
Glass shattered, she drew back her fist, thankful for her gloves. The beeping had increased even more, until it resembled an amplified fire alarm. She didn't care. Yanking the sparkling necklace from the pillow that was now littered with shards of glass, she stepped back to admire her handiwork.
The safe was in disarray, and her heart was beating fast.
"Pearls and gems and diamonds, oh my," she breathed to herself, suppressing a cackle. The necklace was extravagant – too magnificent for her taste – but for the highest bidder, this could go a long way. This could make her future. She could start over – she could become the artist she'd always wanted to be – she'd have enough money to get what she needed and then some – she would show that rich brat -
And then the door flew open, and a wide stream of light streamed from the doorway.
LUCAS FRIAR
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A petite woman clad in all black blinked up at him. Her blonde hair was long and loose, shielding half of her face from view. Leather fingerless gloves betrayed her fair skin tone, and a leather bag was slung over her shoulder.
The jewels in her hand glinted almost as brightly as the mischievous sparkle in her eyes – a sure sign of trouble.
"You." he growled. He didn't know who this woman was, but the necklace in her grip was enough to trigger the anger, bubbling, boiling beneath the surface.
"Hello there, handsome." she drawled. He could hear the smugness laced in her voice. "Looking for something?"
"Put it down."
His own voice was deadly calm. "Put it down now, and maybe you won't regret whatever happens next."
His words seemed foreign to him, and the cat burglar raised an eyebrow.
"Put it down," she mimicked. "You rich kids never learn, do you? If you want it, come and get it."
She turned on her heel and ran, and for a second, where are the lasers flashed through his mind, until she barged through the glass doors of the balcony and climbed onto the edge. He chased after her, pausing a few feet away, cautious and intrigued.
The thief's arms were spread wide, natural grace assisting in balance. Her blonde hair danced around her face, and as she turned to face him, he was mesmerized by her expression, which could only be described as pure bliss. She looked wild and free, a pink smile stretched across her lips, eyes shining. She was beautiful.
Raising one gloved hand, she waved at him. For the smallest of moments, he had the ridiculous instinct to wave back shyly as if he was a teenager again. And then her body arched, weightless and slim, and she fell backwards into the darkness.
Horrified, he watched as she vaulted herself over the balcony, necklace and all. Rushing over to the edge, he peered down, his heart beating itself out of his chest.
Looking over the side, he caught no glimpse of a body moaning in the street below. No sign of her. No sign at all.
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Isaiah Babineaux skidded into the room, panting.
"You can't ask me to – the stairs are – get an elevator -" he gasped between wheezes. The sight of his friend and the smashed safe stopped him in his tracks. "It's gone!" Zay exclaimed. His friend was slumped against a chair, his expression cloudy. "Your mother will be back from Europe in three days – what's she going to – who stole – how did this -?" he began to stammer.
"A woman. Wearing black. Blonde hair." he sighed. "I've already called the police. They're on their way."
His friend settled down beside him, hands over his eyes.
"So, some sort of Catwoman?" he asked, turning to his friend.
"No." he replied wearily, casting his eyes to the wall. Zay followed his gaze.
Carved into the wall, in bold letters, was a name, jeering and sharp.
Mockingbird.
The knife was stabbed underneath the title, the blade safely embedded in the wall.
A parting gift.
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On the roof of the Friar mansion, a slim thief scaled her way over the tiles, giddy with laughter. Her head spun, and she felt like a child again, carefree and happy.
On the roof of the Friar Mansion, Maya Penelope Hart danced under the stars, the moon her spotlight, the inky canopy above her the raised curtains.
She sailed into the night.
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END
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By the way, the codenames 'Mockingbird' and 'White Eagle' is a reference to some Lucaya dialogue. Cookies to anyone who knows that episode it was in! AND having Farkle call himself the Oracle was just too awesome for me to resist (DC fans, anyone?).