I do not own Die Hard
"I'm not sure if this is Genius, or Madness." Penelope muttered as she scanned the large party in search of her comrades. She had been planted in the Party under the guise of a bartender at the Nakitomi Plaza Christmas Party in Las Angeles, California. She adjusted her black pencil skirt and frilly white blouse, internally cursing Hans to Hell for talking her into this.
Penelope Sinclair was a little known, but highly skilled Parisian thief. For the good part of her adult life as lived in Paris but as a child she lived in a foster home in Berlin Germany. At first glance she was a charming child, Petite, blonde pigtails, school uniform, the works. But at the tender age of ten she gain the friendship of a boy whom she would later follow into a life of crime.
"Come on Penny." Hans whispered, "Hans I don't like this, what if it goes wrong." Twelve year old Penelope eyed the crowded road, "I'm telling you, it's easy, I will throw a rock at the wheels to make it seem like the car hit something. You run out in front on the car and pretend like it hit you, while the they are panicking around you, I'll pick their pockets." The boy explained with an exasperated sigh.
"But what if the car doesn't stop and really hits me?" Penny protested, "It won't I promise."
"Alright." She conceded, "One, two, three." Hans threw a large rock under the wheel of a car, while Penelope ran out In front of it and screamed. "Oh My God." The street flew into a panic as Penny lay on the ground with a puddle of red paint around her head, seemingly unconscious.
Hans snickered and lightly picked threw the pockets of concerned passersby.
"Is she okay?"
"Someone call an ambulance!"
That was their cue to retreat, Hans pocketed the stolen goods and eyed the building a few yards away, he hastened into the building and pulled the fire alarm by the door. The ruckus was enough to draw the attention of the crowd and allow Penelope to scramble away.
They ran for a few blocks until the stopped in an alley out of breath. "Did. You. Get. Any. Thing?" she panted, resting her hands on her knees.
"Ja." He held up three leather wallets, a gold bracelet and two diamond rings. "It just doesn't feel right. Stealing from those people." She said with moral confliction, "Penny, do you want to go to college, in America?" Hans asked.
"Of course." She said, "And you want a good life." He continued, "Yes of course I do."
"Then you need money, and a lot of it, and I'm helping you out, at great risk to myself might I add."
"Wait a minute, Risk to yourself, Hans I just threw myself in front of a car!" Penny snapped, offended.
"Alright, you're right, I am sorry." He raise both of his hands, "I shouldn't have said that." Penny crossed her arms and turned around pouting. "Come on Penny, please don't be mad."
"I'll buy you some taffy." He offered, She perked right back up and smiled. "Okay." She suddenly grimaced, "I wish I could stay at your house tonight, when Aunt Ethel sees the paint in my hair she'll know what I did and then I'll be really in for it."
"Well I can ask my father if you can stay, but Simon will probably rat on us." Hans grumbled, "What if we say that you were hit by a paint bucket, there are painters by my house and we will just say that one of the buckets fell and you got splattered."
Penny nodded, Aunt Ethel and Uncle Gunter liked Hans, and they thought he was a good boy. They weren't really her Aunt and Uncle, but they told her to call them that. They were nicer than her previous foster families, She had her own room, she went to a nice school, and she had decent clothes.
"Well, let's go then, Here I'll put the bracelet and rings in my pockets and you can put the wallets in your bag." Penny stuffed the leather wallets in her brown leather school bag, hidden among her books. They walked back to the Gruber house and arrived just as it began to get dark. "Hans, you're home late, where were you?" Mrs. Gruber greeted them, "Penelope, Always good to see you, does your aunt know you're here?"
"No Ma'am I was wondering if I may use your phone to tell her where I am, I know she must be awfully worried." Penny said sweetly, "Of course.." she cut off, "Good lord child what happened to your hair?"
"Some painters dropped a bucket and I got splattered with paint." Penny gazed at her shoes, "Oh you poor child." fussed as Hans faked gagging noises behind her back, Penny stifled a giggle and followed to the phone.
"Yes, Mrs. Fitsgerald? This is Helen Gruber, Penelope is at my house, yes, I will tell her, well she is more than welcome to stay here for the night. Of course. Good bye." hung up the phone, "I will make up a cot in Hans's room, and I will bring a bowl of water, let's see if we can get that paint out of your hair." She tutted.
Hans snickered, "What?" Penny asked. "Nothing it's just my mother always wanted a daughter."
Simon strode into the kitchen and eyed the two, "Hello little brother, and friend who never seems to sleep at her own house."
"Always a pleasure Simon." Penny greeted.
After fretted over Penny for a while, Hans towed her off to his room upstairs, his room was filled with models, maps, and papers. "This is amazing." She smiled, gently tapping the wing of model plane. "Stop it." Hans slapped her hand away. "ow." She grunted.
"I wish I had a family like yours." She sighed, "You do, kinda. You have your foster parents." Hans pointed out. "That's not the same." She explained, "You have normal and parents and a normal sibling…"
"Simon is many things, but normal isn't one of them." Hans interjected. "What happened to your parents anyway?" he asked. Penny sat on his bed, "I don't know, I think they got into drugs or something. That's what Aunt Ethel said."
"I just wish I had some siblings." She said wistfully, "You have me." Hans sat beside her and she lay across his lap, "I could be your adopted brother." She smiled up at him, "I'd like that."
Years later when she turned fifteen Penelope was moved once more to another foster home, she kept in touch with her friend over the years until she graduated high school and was able to afford a plane ticket to see him. He had joined some sort of political movement, he was different to others meaner, and colder. But with her he was the same Han Gruber who used to pick pocket strangers with her.
She snapped back into reality.
"Bartender, one bloody Mary," Penelope nodded and prepared the drink for a sleazy looking guy in a suit. "Qui Monsieur." She poured the tomato Juice and vodka, "I haven't seen you here before, you uh." He glanced at her low cut blouse, "You new?" She rolled her eyes, "I have been booked for the party by Monsieur Tagaki." She placed the drink on a coaster in front of him.
"Is that a French accent I hear?" He flirted shamelessly, "Qui."
"Bar tender, can you get this man a drink, on the house?" Mr. Tagaki, or as Penelope knew him, "The Mark" asked her, as he pushed forward a tired looking man in a white wife beater and a red flannel shirt. "Qui Monsieur." She nodded.
The sleaze and the CEO left together and Penelope was left drying a glass, "So, what will it be sweetie?"
"What would you recommend for a tired New Yorker with Jet Lag?" he asked, "Hmmm, Coffee and a hot shower?" she suggested. "Funny." He nodded, "Would you happen to know where Holly is?" he asked. Penelope shook her head and poured him a shot of whiskey, "Here, on the house," she slid him the glass.
She glanced at the clock, "Uh, Hey." She called to a waiter carrying a tray. "Can you take over here?" she asked. He nodded and handed her the tray carefully so as not to spill the champagne.
She carried the tray to the elevator discretely. She set the tray on a table and snuck over to the elevator. She pressed the button for the garage and walked as fast as her clicking heels could carry her across the concrete.
At the bottom floor was a large delivery truck, "that must be them." she muttered and knocked on the tinted window. A large blonde man with glasses rolled it down. "Why is a raven like a writing desk?" she asked casually
"Because Poe wrote on both." He replied with a thick German accent. "Penelope Sinclair, you must be…"
"Karl." He turned around in the seat, "Hans! Your girlfriend's here." He called.
The back of the truck opened, there were several other men with him. "Good to see you again." She grinned as the tall German exited the truck, "and I'm not his girlfriend." She corrected Karl.
"mmmhmmm." Several of the men hummed and muttered,
"Stow it."