Ok, I probably shouldn't start uploading this yet, but I couldn't resist.

THIS IS A HEADS UP. The story will be in this format for the majority of it's run. Blaine doesn't mention the actual names of the people he talks about while telling his tale, but they will be written down, as it's sort of a flashback kind of thing. To avoid confusion, Blaine will give the code names before the actual flashback sequence, but in his own head, as it's written from his perspective, their real names will be revealed.


OHIO STATE PENITENTIARY, 11:13 AM. AUGUST 13TH.

Carl Towns slowly walked through security, taking note of the guards and cameras at every corner. He was meeting a very special prisoner today. One would say that this could be the story of the century, the ultimate question of how they'd done it.

It had been world news at the time. A group of bank robbers had managed to make off with $100 million worth of rough, uncut diamonds from one of the most high security places in the world: The Antwerp World Diamond Centre.

And Carl Towns was going to interview their front man.

The criminal had refused to make a statement to the media after he'd been caught 7 months ago while sipping a glass filled with Irish whiskey in a nice apartment in the mountains near Elviria in Spain.

The other visitors in the hall, who'd come to see their fathers, brothers, sons or friends, drowned the buzzing sound of the security door opening. Carl saw him sitting at an empty table, sipping what looked like coffee and smiling softly at the people around him.

Blaine Anderson, one of the most notorious criminals in the world.

Carl was being carefully monitored by the guard at the door, his every word clear as day to the burly man, as he sat down in the seat across from Blaine. He set down his bag on the seat next to him and extended his hand across the table.

"I'm Carl Towns from the Chicago Tribune," he spoke, a soft nervous smile on his face. "I'll be the one who writes your story."

"Blaine Anderson," He responded, extending his own hand with a charming smile. "But I'm pretty sure you already knew that." Carl grinned in response and got out the notepad he was going to use to write everything down. He hadn't been allowed to bring his laptop or phone into the room to take notes and the warden had only given him permission to speak to Blaine if he gave a copy of the things he wrote down to one of the guards before he left. Precaution, he'd been told.

"The other accomplices still haven't been tracked down."

Blaine just hummed and took another sip of his- Carl looks down at the cup- coffee and gave him an amused grin. "They'll never be caught, they are too smart for that."

"How did you get traced down, exactly? I know that you got extracted from your house in Spain, but how did they know it was you?" Carl clicked his pen and sat it down on the paper, ready to write everything that followed down.

"However hard it must be to believe… I got caught thanks to a sandwich."

Carl let out a laugh in disbelief. "DNA evidence then?"

"Yeah. I was stupid and left it in the garbage can outside of where we'd hidden out. They found a tiny piece of skin, not bigger than an ant, inside the vault and connected it to the apartment and through that, traced it back to whom the DNA was from. Me." He paused for a few seconds and took another sip from the Styrofoam beverage holder.

"We were really careful cleaning the apartment and disposing of the garbage, but I guess the sandwich stuck to the bottom of the can. There was a garbage bag involved too. Now I'm here. But we'll get to that later."

Carl shifted in his seat and got into a better position to write as Blaine finished the last of his coffee and sat up in his chair.

"Much more interesting, is the journey to the diamonds." Blaine gave another charming smile, living up to his nickname in the media. Prince Charming. The air seemed to shift a bit, becoming more serious.

"Do tell."

"Hmm, I will. But-" he spoke, glancing up at the guards and eyes shifting to the cameras hanging in the corners of the room, "I will not give you my friends' real names, you understand…"

Carl nodded in compliance. "I figured as much."

"Well then," Blaine began, "It all started 13 months ago…."


Hoveniersstraat, Diamond Destrict, Antwerp. 12:34 PM. June 23RD.

7 months before the heist.

Blaine sat at the terrace of a small coffee shop, enjoying the afternoon sun and enjoying the people buzzing back and forth in the Belgian street. There was a group of Armenians walking up to one of the many diamond points, a dark haired woman with a security guard walking out of the Antwerp Diamond Centre at the end of the street, a small steel suitcase cuffed to her wrist and conversation from inside the café.

He closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of the city, his head tilted back towards the sky. The sun burned behind his eyelids, warming them and he sighed in enjoyment. It was the little pleasures that made it worth living this criminal life. It wasn't the new Mercedes he'd bought or the apartment he'd purchased in the Alps last week. It was the sun, the smell of chocolate, the murmur of talking and laughter. Fresh coffee, sleeping in on Sundays.

A shadow cast over him and he cranked open an eye, adjusting to the light difference, as the figure leaned over. Blaine fought the urge to sit up sharply and sat up from his laid back state.

"Hey there Prince Charming," the newcomer hissed with a shark-like grin, before sitting down in the chair opposite him. Blaine looked up and sighed.

"And what will we call this newcomer?" Carl interrupted, pen pausing in writing only for a few seconds before quickly scribbling down 'Doesn't steal for the money?'and underlining it for good measure.

"Let's just call her… Ms. Gold, shall we? I know she loves her gold. She's a blonde too, it's fitting."

Carl nodded in compliance, writing down the name and shifting his eyes back to Blaine for a few seconds. The man was clearly enjoying talking about this and Carl smiled.

"Hello, Sue. What a… pleasure to see you again," he answered lifting the ceramic cup to his lips and smiling into it.

Sue Sylvester sat down after a quick glance at the chair, her face twisting in distaste. She hadn't changed much, even if the last time he'd seen her, had been when he'd brought in the spoils from the Egyptian National bank 2 years ago. Her carefully cut blonde hair and aging face,(though if you'd tell her that, she'd probably skin you alive) were the same as back then.

He'd still done business with her, but her minions and employees in the Cheerio Diamond Corporation handled the shipments. The last time he'd intended to bring her a shipment of precious stones, 3 women that dubbed themselves the Unholy Trinity had picked it up. One of them had been a Latina, he remembered darkly. He'd hated being called a hobbit.

Figures that Sue wanted her diamonds protected by one of the most famous assassin groups in Europe.

The blonde woman was dressed in a dark navy suit, probably Armani, and had silver aviator sunglasses perched on her nose. She crossed her legs, not a care in the world, as she motioned a waiter with a raised hand.

"Let's skip formalities shall we," Blaine set the cup back on the table as he spoke, leaning forward in his seat, lowering his voice. "What have you got for me?"

"A question." She simply said, a dark haired boy came up to them to get her order.

Blaine frowned, but waited until the waiter left to get her Mocha.

"A question?"

"100.000 euros upfront if you answer it with proof." Sue got out her phone and seemed to be looking through it. This was something that couldn't be said here then. He wasn't surprised when she handed him the phone and he quickly looked at it, as Sue talked. It was a simple blue and white picture that he recognized all too well. The Antwerp World Diamond Centre logo.

"In 6 months time, a shipment of fresh, uncut Smythe diamonds worth $90 million will get stored in their vault," she informed him. The Smythe family were the owners of a French-American diamond corporation, owning 56% of the world's diamond trade.

"I want to know, if it's possible for you to get in there and… take them, without getting caught."


"So she just asked you all out? No cloak and dagger?" Carl looked incredulous and wide-eyed. Ms. Gold seemed dangerous. The police probably already knew her connection to the Unholy Trinity. A trio of assassins, trained for infiltration and silent kills. There had been whispers, of course. One of them was Hispanic and the other two were blondes. Or they were most of the time.

"Ms. Gold has never been one for games, she's always been upfront about what she wants. And she gets very pissed when she doesn't get what she wants. She's like a shark. She smells blood and she tears her victim apart."

Blaine glanced around the room and at the door.

"I bet she knows I'm here and is laughing at me for being so stupid." Blaine smirks and waves to one of the cameras. "She's a bitch, but a smart one."


Blaine took a deep breath and looked at Sue's face, to see if she was pulling his leg, which she probably wasn't. He'd been inside the vault, as a customer. It was impossible to crack. He already knew that, without actively researching it and cracking it.

"You want me to figure out if it's possible to rob one of the most secure places in the world?" Sue sighed at him in annoyance and adjusted her sunglasses.

"Do you need me to spell it out for you, hobbit? You are one of the only ones I know who has access without the actual… paper trail." Blaine nodded in acknowledgement and scowled at the nickname. What was it with people calling him a hobbit?

The people working at the Diamond Centre knew his face, yes, but they didn't know his name. Of course Sue would know about the alias he'd created here in Antwerp. If you wanted to trade, sell or buy diamonds and were already on radar for numerous heists, using your own identity would just sound the bells for the cops. He'd be caught faster than he could say 'robbery'. In Antwerp, he wasn't Blaine Anderson or Prince Charming, he was Dalton Phillips, a familiar diamond seller and buyer with a friendly smile and a gleam in his eye.

"It's impossible, I can tell you that without any doubt, Sue. I can prove it to you too, if you give me until tomorrow, but it's impossible. Off the top of my head, the door alone has 6 layers of security. Not to mention all the surveillance inside and outside here on the street." He gestured to one of the video cameras pointed at the tall, fortress like building and the surrounding area. "That vault is impossible to steal from." Blaine sighed, crossing his arms on top of the table's surface. Sue just gave him a disdainful look.

"Just give me pictures, Anderson, and I'll be out of the curly mop you call hair." He self-consciously raised a hand to his haircut. "And do not underestimate me, Frodo, you know me better than that. Now. Will you, or will you not answer my question?"

'A 100.000 euros for a few pictures.' Blaine shifted his eyes to Sue's, ignoring the second Lord of the Rings reference. He could see himself reflected in her aviator glasses and he furrowed his brows. 'It's a nice sum for doing practically nothing. Just take the pen, walk in, walk out. They always fall for it.'

"Deal."


"So, you agreed to her deal and went in and took pictures of everything?" Carl questioned.

"Yes. As I'm sure you've already researched for your article, the security measures will have changed somewhat since my last…visit. But a few months ago, they didn't monitor everything yet. A camera hidden in a pen cap wasn't noticed by anyone. For security personnel, they were friendly. Customers are given the highest grade of hospitality, even if they don't trust you all that much."


Blaine made his way into the Diamond Centre. It was two hours after Sue had walked away from him, giving him a time and place to meet her after he'd taken the pictures she asked for.

"Good afternoon Mr. Phillips," an enthusiastic voice chimed and Blaine suppressed a smile, pulling of his sunglasses and greeting the Jewish girl behind the counter.

"Hello, Rachel. Please, call me Dalton, you know how I hate being called Mr. Phillips. It reminds me of my father." He scrunched his face up in distaste and the brunette blushed prettily and giggled.

"Old habits die hard, Mr. Phillips, here's your keycard and your security code for today. The vault is open, like always." She handed him his security pass and a small piece of paper, turned back to her computer screen and he laughed. Rachel hadn't changed a bit from when he'd first met her a few months ago. He'd flirted with her, not intending to actually pursue her and she had been very adamant about not starting a relationship with him or him actively trying to seduce her.

He remembered her words all too clearly. "Mr. Phillips, as much as I appreciate the kind words and attention, I must tell you that I will never actually respond. I love my fiancé and am not looking for an affair, however much it would be romantic and interesting to have an admirer. I am not a woman for torrid whirlwind affairs."

Blaine had goodheartedly replied with an 'Ah, so mote it be. He is a very lucky fellow then, your fiancé.' Before walking towards the elevators and shivering a little. He'd hated flirting with Rachel and was relieved that he wouldn't get anywhere with her. She seemed a bit…manic.

Make no mistake, Blaine is not in any way heterosexual, but Dalton was. Had to keep the cover.


"Ah. You're gay then?" Carl paused his writing again, looking up in surprise. He hadn't expected that to be revealed.

"Very much so. I appreciate the ladies, yes, but never in a romantic way. Dalton, however, was a ladies man, or seemed to be at least." Blaine licked his lips. "I am very careful with my alter egos. Dalton is a person I created years ago, because he fit into society and filled the cracks effortlessly. No one questions a somewhat rich diamond dealer, who likes the occasional cigar and is a big fan of pretty woman. Being of a different sexual persuasion draws attention. I didn't want that attention." He looked up to the ceiling and smiled a little.

"Only in private was I myself. Only when I was with my lovely Porcelain." Carl's eyes widened a little.

"One of the accomplices?" Porcelain was the hacker and disguise expert of the group, who had never been identified or caught, like the others, Monster and Forge. Carl sat back and swept a hand through his short, brown hair.

"I see you did your homework, Mr. Towns. Yes. My sweet Porcelain," He said with a wistful smile, "A beautiful man who I will tell you about in great detail when we get to that point in the story." Carl nodded. "For now, let's continue…"


Blaine carefully looked around and observed his surroundings, the ring he was wearing had a direct link to the pen in his breast pocket. He knew most people would laugh at his blatant use of something so James Bond like, but it worked like a charm. He simply clicked the small button on the ring and a HD picture would be taken and stored on a small flash drive hidden in the pen.

Unbeknownst to the security people, he'd been taking pictures ever since he walked into the building. He'd already managed to photograph all the security measures in the lobby, taking care to capture all the cameras and sensors there, and was being as inconspicuous as possible.

He knew he had to be careful in this situation; trust could easily be lost in this business. He'd only have to make a single mistake and he'd blow his cover and never be able to return here. Taking pictures like this was a delicate procedure.

He held the keycard in front of the elevator door panel and the doors opened noiselessly. Blaine took in the familiar interior and stepped inside, still clicking away.

Camera in upper left corner, code to get to the vault floor, 2 floors down, and elevator could be opened from a panel in the ceiling.

Click. Click. Click.

The only sounds in the little room were the almost imperceptible clicks and the unfamiliar French song playing out of the speakers in the walls. Blaine hated elevator music.

He typed in the unfamiliar code to get to the vault floor and the doors closed. He felt the floor shake for a few seconds before the elevator started moving down. It would take exactly 23 seconds to get there, without interruptions.

'Punctuality,' he mused to himself. 'Is very important.'

The elevator doors slipped open and Blaine walked out gracefully, the familiar vault antechamber greeting him. The security guard at the side of the elevator gave him a friendly 'goedemiddag', dutch for good afternoon, and Blaine nodded his own head in acknowledgement. He knew the guard would leave him his privacy and get into a small room next to the vault. It was standard procedure.

He clicked away, turning a few degrees to capture the cameras until he walked up to the vault door.

He'd never done a significant amount of studying pertaining the vault, having only spared it a few passing glances. It was heavy, painted a deep red, almost brown and made of at least 3 tons of steel. He ghosted a hand over the slick surface and waited until the camera turned away from the door to scan the rest of the room. He quickly got out the pen and snapped a few pictures of the door, the keyhole, code lock and the little dots on the side that indicated seismic sensors inside the door.

He clicked the buzzer at the side of the vault door and the metal gate behind the vault door opened swiftly.

He made quick work of the inside of the vault, faking a yawn and stretching out his arms, pen still clutched inside his hand, snapping pictures. The security cameras, the magnetic field, the light sensor on the ceiling, the heat and motion sensors on all sides of the room and at last, the two rows of safe-deposit boxes in various sizes and the small stall stashed between them, for the security and privacy of the customers and what they had stored inside their boxes.

Blaine knew that not only diamonds were stored inside this vault. Cash, photographs, evidence of crimes, everything was stored here. He walked up to his own box and typed in the 6-digit code, getting out his key and putting it into the tiny keyhole.

The little box opened and Blaine got out one of the little bags he'd stashed there. He removed it and closed the small door, before walking over to the tiny stall and getting inside, closing the door behind him and shifting around for a few seconds. He went through the motions of opening and closing the bag and ruffling around before he reopened the door without actually having done anything, taking pictures from the new angle, now having an excuse to turn around and see the interior or the vault from a different side.


"It was really that easy? Going in there and taking those pictures?"

"It really was. Trust is a thing not given easily, but when given, is one of the most precious and dangerous things in the world."


"Have a nice day, Mr. Phillips!" Rachel chimed again and Blaine gave her a little wave over his shoulder, adjusting his sunglasses as he walked towards the exit. He took pictures of the security point, a glass square room behind the front desk, while he slowly made his way outside.

"Until next time, Rachel."

He walked into the late afternoon sun and took another few pictures of his surroundings. The retractable steal cylinders made him pause and look around for the control booth. He'd almost forgotten about that.

The Diamond district was protected from unauthorized transport by the cylinders, making it impossible for cars to enter the district without permission from the security center on the Schupstraat, a street leading to the center of the district.

Blaine walked past it, the two security guards not looking up from their conversation or the tiny monitors connected to the cameras strewn out over the entire district, taping every little movement 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. He clicked a few more pictures before walking down the street and exiting the small part of the city.

Blaine got out his phone and dialed the number Sue had given him, his left hand in the pants pocket of his dark suit.

"You have the pictures?"

"I have them. Do you want them printed or on a drive?"

"Drive. See you tomorrow Anderson."

"Goodbye Sue."


"And I think I'll leave it at this for today." Blaine laughed and crossed his legs.

"I think that will be alright," Carl answered before giving an appreciating whistle, "Quite a story."

Blaine hummed and smirked.

"We haven't even started yet."