"Is that everything?" Danny hissed.

Miles looked around the bank vault. "We've got all of it," he nodded. "Now we need to get the hell out of here."

"Just one more thing," Charlie insisted, pulling a can of black spray paint out of her bag.

Miles groaned. "Do you really have to tag every place we hit?" he demanded.

Charlie grinned at him. "Gotta let the police know we were here," she replied.

"Then be quick," Miles snapped. "I'd like to not get caught because you decided graffiti was more important than escape."

Charlie quickly painted their symbol, a large and skinny M in an incomplete circle, before stashing the spray paint. "Long Live the Militia," she giggled, pulling her mask back down.

"Shut up and get moving," Miles hissed. Both of the siblings grabbed a duffle bag and ducked out the hole they had used to get in. Miles made sure the coast was clear before following them out with two duffle bags of his own.

Just as they reached the silver sports car parked nearby, Danny's head snapped up. "I hear sirens," he stated.

"Stick the plan and don't panic," Miles insisted. "First, load the bags." Everyone threw their bags into the false bottom in the trunk of the car. "Now for the uniforms." They all stripped off the jumpsuits they had bought off the rack at a nearby second hand store to reveal street clothes underneath. "Get in the damn car and whatever you do, do not freak out."

Miles slid into the driver's seat with Charlie next to him while Danny bundled himself into the back. Miles threw the car into drive and floored the pedal. He didn't slow until they were a good distance from the bank. "Oh, god, I think my life flashed before my eyes," Charlie laughed as she sank into the seat.

"We would have been out of there quicker if someone hadn't felt the need to add graffiti," Danny teased.

Charlie twisted around to stick her tongue out at him. "You're rude," she informed him.

"But you love me."

"Shut it," Miles snapped. "I see lights."

The siblings turned worried faces to him. "Do you think…?" Charlie couldn't finish her statement.

"Just act natural," Miles insisted as he pulled the car over. A policewoman came over and shined her light in the car. "Can I help you officer?" Miles asked calmly.

"License and registration," the woman demanded.

Miles nodded to Charlie who produced both. "Something wrong?" he inquired.

The officer looked over the given information. "There a reason this car isn't in your name?" she asked.

"It's my friend's car," Miles replied. "Mine's in the shop and the kids have been begging me to take them to this new movie for days. She told me it was all fixed up when I asked to borrow it."

The officer nodded. "Tell your friend her tail light is out. She needs to get it fixed."

Miles took the items back from her. "I will be sure to do that, officer," he agreed. "You have a good night now."

"You as well sir."

They all held their breath as the woman walked back to her car. When she didn't seem likely to reappear, they let out a collective sigh. "Christ that was tense," Miles said.

Charlie turned to her uncle and pulled him into a deep kiss. "Charlie," Danny whined; pulling them apart, "there's a cop behind us."

"Your brother's right," Miles agreed as he put the car in gear. "Save that for when we get home."

The rest of the trip was spent trying to come down from the intense adrenaline rush they always got from a heist that went well. Miles drove them to the nicest part of the city and turned into an expensive apartment complex. As always, he ignored the valet and parked their car in its usual spot. The three slipped on shades as they made their way to the marble lobby. "Mr. Matheson," the doorman greeted.

"James," Miles nodded. "How's the family?'

"Doing good sir."

"Glad to hear it."

They rode the elevator all the way up to the penthouse suite. "That was an exhausting night," Miles declared, stripping out of his leather jacket.

"But well worth it," Charlie said smugly as she threw herself on the sofa. "We'll be set for at least three months with that load."

Miles shook his head as he rummaged through the end table for his cigarettes. "Hey, Danny, let Tom know we need to set up a meeting," he ordered.

"Already warming up the laptop," Danny agreed. He frowned as his uncle turned back to the door. "Where are you going?'

"Out," Miles said. "Stay inside, don't open the door for anyone."

Charlie and Danny exchanged glances but just shrugged and went back to their usual pastimes.

Miles went back to the lobby but bypassed the garage this time. He headed out into the cold night air and turned his steps towards the subway station. Miles huddled in the corner, not making eye contact with anyone until his stop came. The streets he exited were far different than the ones where he had entered. They were dirtier and darker. This wasn't quite the ghetto but it was damn close. Miles shoved his hands into his pockets and slouched through the streets to a far different apartment building than the one he lived in.

He considered the door briefly but rejected the idea in favor of the fire escape. He needed to keep in shape after all. Miles scaled to the seventh floor and paused to light a cigarette before easing the window open. A redhead was waiting for him with her hands on her hips. "Miles Matheson," she sighed.

"Emma Bennett," he grinned.

Emma shook her head. "Don't you know how to use a door?"

"Yeah. But this is so much more fun."

She tried to purse her lips but a smile crept through. "Get yourself inside before someone sees you."

Miles groaned as he wiggled his way through the small window. "I'm getting too old for that," he said, cracking his back.

"Maybe you should try not robbing banks in your free time," Emma advised as she strolled towards the kitchen. "You're on the news again."

Miles frowned. "Already?' He made his way to where the television showed the local reporter, Priscilla Pitman, next to the bank he had hit with his niece and nephew earlier that night. He crushed out his cigarette in the ashtray Emma kept specifically for him as he eased onto the sofa. "Huh, the response time was quicker this time."

"I think they were just about to explain that," Emma said as she handed him a beer from the fridge.

Miles took it as he turned up the volume. "Police responded to a silent alarm that the bank had just installed earlier this week. According to inside sources, this is just the latest in a long string of robberies performed by the group known as the Monroe Militia," Priscilla stated. "The police are tracking every lead they can but as usual the only thing left at the crime scene was the group's signature graffiti. Of course we can't be entirely sure why this particular group has been so high profile lately but this reporter wonders if maybe there isn't some higher purpose to their recent rash of robberies."

A reporter from inside the studio appeared on half the screen. "Care to speculate what that might be, Priscilla?"

"Well, as you know Jack, they only go after the accounts of the well off. If anyone of modest means loses money in their heist, they're always sure to replace the money before more than a week passes. Sometimes with interest."

"Are you saying these three are like some sort of modern day Robin Hood?"

"All I know is that if they kept the money, they wouldn't need to rob banks so often."

Miles sighed as he shut the TV off. "How much did you get?" Emma wondered.

"Don't know, haven't counted it yet." Miles drank his beer. "How's Bass?"

"He's in a coma Miles."

"I know that."

Emma sighed. "Brain activity is up this week. But not enough for the doctors to be hopeful."

"Damn," Miles muttered. "At least we've got the bills covered for the next month. Maybe two if we're lucky."

Emma looked away. "I suppose you'll have to meet with your money launderer tomorrow."

"Yep. Danny was setting up the appointment as I left." Miles realized she was less than pleased about the conversation. "Emma, don't do this."

"Miles, you risk your health and safety every time you put on that jumpsuit and you know it. And what's worse, you endanger your niece and nephew as well. And I have a hard time supporting that."

Miles gave her a crooked smile. "But it's for Bass. You love Bass."

"I love you too," Emma snapped, getting to her feet. "And I don't' want you or the kids to be hurt."

Miles didn't move from his seat. "Emma, I explained this to you. Bass' benefits don't kick in until I show up for questioning. And we both know the minute I show up, they will take the kids away from me and throw them in some godforsaken foster home. So yes, this solution sucks but it's the only one that we've got." Emma crossed her arms. "At least Bass is getting the best medical care possible."

"That doesn't mean I don't worry."

Miles spread out his arms in a placating manner. "What do you want me to say? I won't give this up. Not as long as Bass is in that coma. I put him there Emma. I have to take care of him."

"Not everything is your fault, Miles."

"Maybe not, but this is."

Emma rubbed her forehead. "I suppose the best I can do is ask that you be careful. And try to tone down the high profile cases. I always get ulcers when I see you guys on the news."

Miles got to his feet and put his hands on her arms. "That's why I always come to see you afterwards. Let you know we're alright."

"None of this is alright and you know it," Emma said with a weary smile.

"Close as we're going to get," Miles shrugged. He pulled her in for a hug and Emma didn't resist. "I've got something for you and Mason," he said as he pulled away.

Emma shook her head as he pulled out a wad of bills. "I told you how I feel about dirty money, Miles."

"This isn't dirty, Emma. This is clean as a whistle. It's from an account Ben set up for the kids a while back. This stuff is snow white." Emma still looked doubtful. "Please take it. Bass would kill me if he thought I wasn't taking care of you."

Emma sighed as she took the money from him. "And we're back to the Matheson guilt complex."

"Only gift my father ever gave me," Miles shrugged. "And it was either that or his heart and he clocked out at thirty."

"This isn't a joke Miles."

"Neither was his heart attack."

Emma knew there would be no reasoning with him tonight. "Get back to Charlie and Danny," she advised. "God only knows what they're getting into right now. And make sure you visit Bass soon."

"We'll stop by tomorrow," Miles assured her as he kissed her cheek. "Tell Mason I said hello."

"I will," she agreed as he slipped back out the window. She didn't shut it until he had disappeared around the corner.

Miles made his way back to his apartment to find it dark. That didn't surprise him. They had had a long and exhausting night. He was practically asleep on his feet as he entered. He tried not to wake Charlie and Danny as he crept around their large bedroom, trying to get undressed. "You were out late," a muzzy voice said.

Miles turned to Danny. "Visiting Emma," he whispered. "Bunch up with your sister so I can fit in there."

"You fit in the middle."

"That means crawling over one of you."

Danny gave him a sleepy grin. "I never mind when you climb over me."

"I want sleep, Danny; not sex. Now move over."

Danny slid closer to Charlie so Miles could sleep under the sheets. "Set the meeting," he slurred. "Info's on the computer."

"I'll look at it tomorrow,' Miles said. "And after wards we'll visit Bass. Now go to sleep."

"Night, Miles."

"Night, Danny."

A/N: This is the first story in a new verse called "Smooth Criminals" that I'm working on with Iron America. Before you spam me with questions about why they're robbing banks or why Bass is in a coma, rest assured that we have plotted these details out and they will be revealed as we write more stories. I promise you'll love it.