If you want to send me anon hate or something, my url on tumblr is sendrickstagram. Why do I keep coming up with ideas at 2am?
The crisp autumn wind over the campus of the prestigious Columbia University one fine Monday afternoon. Everywhere, students were hustling to their classes, taught by the world's most brilliant (and no doubt well-paid) professors or finishing up their many pages of homework assignments. Even though school's only started for less than a month, the workload was already piling up. Simply being smart didn't get you anywhere, everyone was smart, everyone was good at something, you had to be brilliant. It was Columbia after all, if you wanted to get an education like no other, this was the place to be.
Unfortunately for a 19 year old redhead by the name of Chloe, she was at the only place on campus nobody wanted to be. Sitting in front of the school board, who were going to expel her.
This was a grand shame because just a few months prior, Chloe was making her way to her very first class of the year. Normally, Columbia wouldn't let a transfer student in this late (or ever), but after assessing her profile, grades, and every other factor, they had decided to do just that. There were a few rumors as to why, of course, amongst those who were jealous or curious enough to exchange gossip. Some said her father was a branch of British royalty and had made an extremely generous donation in the summer. Others thought she was the daughter of a very, very powerful figure in politics and had a large amount of influence over the school board. A few even said she was a long lost descendant of King George II himself.
They were all so very, very wrong, but Chloe wasn't about to reveal the truth. To anyone. Yes, she may have been the 50th or so in line for the throne at one point in her life, but she's not even British. And okay, so she is very familiar with politics and she's met many men in that field, but she's certainly not the daughter of one. As for the theory about being distantly related to a king, well, she couldn't be completely sure of that one herself. Does anyone know who they were related to more than half a century ago?
But all that no longer mattered, because she was going to be expelled, and there's nothing she could do or say about it.
"Miss Beale, you know that we're going to have to expel you for this, right?" A woman sitting next to the Headmaster informed her slowly, lowering her glasses just a little.
Chloe said nothing, just nodded. Their minds were already made up.
"Normally, we would also have to inform the police of your actions. But due to the circumstances, the board has decided not to do so." The woman's tone implied that Chloe should be thankful the school wasn't about to call the police on her and pressing charges. Right. A normal university student would be afraid of the police, of possibly going to jail. The girl sitting in front of them was anything but.
Chloe once again nodded compliantly She could have said that she didn't have to break into her professor's office and doctor her grades on his Excel document to be submitted into the school's system and be seen by the cameras when she could have just hacked into the school system itself. Their security was laughingly easy to get past. She could have said that even if she wanted to get into that office, there were at least 5 different ways to avoid being seen. And don't even get her started on the fact that she could have easily forged an A+ on her test and nobody would be the wiser. There were a hundred ways to Sunday to do what they were accusing her of doing without getting caught.
She could've simply told the truth and said that she didn't do it.
But she bit her tongue. She's not that person anymore. The thief. Lying has always been easy for Chloe, telling the truth however, caught her off guard.
"Aren't you going to say anything in your defense, miss Beale?" There's a hint of surprise in the headmaster's voice as he spoke. Clearly he's expecting her to beg to stay, to say that she only did it to keep her scholarship, or even to say that she's innocent.
"No." She shook her head. "The tapes clearly have said enough."
Ah, yes, the surveillance tapes clearly showed someone of her height and build (so most likely a girl), picking the lock to her Economics professor's office and entering. It also showed a flash of red hair, the exact same shade as Chloe's (of course). Inside, the intruder turned on the laptop sitting neatly on the mahogany desk, clicking on the document which contained every student's grades and changing Chloe Beale's midterm result from a B+ to an A+ before escaping out the door, not locking it on her way out. An obvious mistake by the real culprit. Or was it?
"Okay then. Chloe Beale, you are hereby officially expelled from Columbia University on the grounds of breaking into a professor's office after hours and doctoring your midterm results. You may..."
But she stopped listening.
It was over.
Within half an hour, Chloe Beale left her campus dorm-room leaving no trace of her ever having been there. It was one of the rules she's been taught growing up. Never get tied down to one place and never get attached to anything you couldn't carry in a bag.
After she left, the school board decided to keep this scandal quiet to avoid giving their students any distractions from their studies or something of the like, and nobody had the chance to ask the redhead about what happened. So just as mysteriously as she had arrived, nobody saw Chloe get into a sleek, black, stretch limo where a blonde girl with roughly the same height and build as the redhead was waiting.
"You know, Aubrey, if you wanted to see me, you could've just called. This isn't prison, we're allowed visitors here."
The blonde pouted, "Come on, Chloe. You can't honestly tell me you're enjoying it there. I mean that place is full of pretentious and spoiled kids. And studying law? Really?" She asked incredulously.
Chloe shrugged, she's relatively sure her best friend didn't get her kicked out of Columbia and basically kidnapped her just to question her studies. Relatively sure. "The students there are quite nice, actually, and I like studying law. Might as well see how the grass is doing on the other side." The two shared a smirk at that before Chloe turned serious again. "What's going on, Aubrey?"
The blonde bit her lip, an extremely rare sign of nervousness. One that she never displayed in front of wealthy clients that buy art from her, or those that visited her exclusive galleries in Manhattan and London. As an art dealer, she needed to have an image of confidence at all times. Most importantly, however, as one of the best forgers out there, Aubrey cannot afford to show uncertainty when a fake is being authenticated. "I need your help."
"Aubrey..." the redhead started, giving her best friend a cautious look. "You know I'm done. I've quit."
"It's my father," Aubrey blurted out. "He's going to be murdered in a week."
In all her years of working with the blonde and being her best friend. Chloe didn't think Aubrey was ever being as truthful with her as she was now.
Tony Posen was like a father figure to her, especially now that both her parents have died. He had taught her almost everything she knew about the world and the people in it. It just so happened that he was also regarded by many as one of the greatest thieves of the generation. He was her first mentor, and the person who'd told her to quit while you were ahead and go live a normal life. He had even helped her get into Columbia, giving her the perfect records needed.
So if Tony was in trouble, Chloe would do anything and everything in her power to get him out of it.
Her eyes hardened. "What do we need to do?"
Aubrey took a breath, looked straight into blue eyes opposite her and said, "We need to steal the missing Da Vinci."
"Why?" She asked without missing a beat. "What's it got to do with Tony?"
"They think he stole it. Arthur Gambino thinks he stole it."
There had been rumors, hushed exchanges in dark alleys and conversations amongst the men in charge that the missing Da Vinci, "The Battle of Anghiari" had surfaced in the hands of the Gambino family. One of the most notoriously dangerous Italian crime families on the planet. To the rest of the world, it was still very much a missing painting.
"Did he?"
"No. He didn't steal it."
Chloe believed her. "So all we've got to do is find the guy who did it and steal it back?"
Aubrey nodded. "Yeah, that's basically it."
She glanced out the window of the moving limo, where people were still moving from point A to point B, going about their day, doing mundane things that people do, completely oblivious. It's then that she noticed they were taking a familiar turn.
"So back to Barden then?" Although they both knew that she knew the answer.
The blonde smiled. "Back to Barden. They're waiting for us."
Just like in the movies, as soon as the words were out of Aubrey's mouth, the limo came to a definitive stop. They were at a seemingly abandoned one storey building in an inconspicuous area of New York city, away from prying eyes. But if anyone were to ever be able to get inside, they'd see that it was nothing less than stepping into another world.
The floor was made of the finest wood, the walls looked like they'd been painted not long ago, there was a state of the art projector screen on one of them. In the middle of the room was a round table, with comfortable chairs around it. Sitting on them was a select group of people, all young enough to be in college, talking animatedly, like old friends catching up after years of not seeing each other, when in fact, it had only been a year.
They all stopped talking and turned their heads when Chloe and Aubrey stepped inside.
It was only a few seconds later when the silence was finally broken. "Well, well, well, if it isn't miss Ivy League."
The redhead grinned back. "Missed me?"
It's funny how things can change so quickly, Chloe thought to herself as she hugged her friends. Just less than an hour ago she was sitting in front of the Columbia University school board and getting expelled for something she didn't do. Now she's standing before a group of thieves, hackers, grifters and forgers alike, about to plan a heist to steal something that hasn't been found.