Rating: T for now, but maybe borderline M later on, I guess we'll see where that goes but you have been warned, just in case!
Disclaimer: I do not own D.E.B.S., Angela Robinson is the mastermind behind it. White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin. No copyright infringement is intended, just having some fun and letting out my inner geek :P
Kansas City Shuffle
Prologue
The lithe woman approached the house with caution, the cover of the night enabling her to move without being noticed. It was not a necessary precaution in this neighbourhood, but it was always better to be prepared for the worst. She was not exactly worried though, this one was a simple and easy job and the circumstances had played in her favour this time. The owners were out of town as expected since their car was not around, the security would be child's play and the house was not overly big so the target should be easy to find. The full moon could be a blessing or a curse, but in a place like this and after dark, it shouldn't be something to worry about. She got over the tall fence in two swift movements, rolled down on the grass, pushed her back against the wall and smiled slyly. It was far from being as challenging as some of the other thefts she'd executed so far, but it was still fun. Plus, she really loved that painting and thought she had just the right spot for it in her own home.
She walked around the corner of the building, a plastic storage tube dangling from her shoulder, and took a peak in the nearest window. The lights were out, all of them it seemed. Infrared cameras then. It didn't change anything, she knew where they were and how to avoid being seen. She moved quickly towards the door while pulling out a lock picking toolkit from her black cargo pant's left pocket and kneeled down, ready to make short work of the lock. As soon as she touched the door, it moved slightly, revealing the fact that it was already unlocked. She knew instantly that something was wrong and her first instinct was to make a run for it, but something told her she should still check inside. After all, the empty space on her wall wouldn't fill itself magically. She put the toolkit back where it came from, opened the door silently just wide enough for her to sneak in and closed it carefully.
Once inside, she started to move forward stealthily through the kitchen, straining her eyes and ears for anything unusual. The house was two stories high and the office was upstairs: this was most likely her destination. She tip-toed through the living room until she reached the moonlit hallway that led the way to the stairs, light creeping inside through the windows on both of its ends. That's when she came across the first body. It was a woman, in her thirties, lying on her side in a pool of her own blood. This could have been her if she had been around that night. One thing was certain, this was not the work of a professional. A butcher would be more like it, she thought disgusted. A very bad feeling started to creep up in the pit of her stomach. She knew that face… She always studied the premises, and the possible encounters, making sure she knew their every move to be able to strike at the best moment possible and avoiding any confrontation. She knew this house like the back of her hand by now, as well as the whereabouts of the family that owned it. She averted her eyes from the shape on the floor and looked in the direction of the stairs, trying to calm herself down. Unfortunately, what she saw next was nothing to help in that task. At the base of the stairs was a boy, who could not have been more than ten years old, sprawled lifeless on the floor, his limbs akimbo and neck visibly broken.
She started to feel her throat tighten and her vision blur. Painful memories she would rather keep deeply buried resurfaced and, for a moment, she felt paralyzed, unable to move away from the wall she was lying against, eyes squeezed shut. How could things have gone so wrong when she had planned everything so carefully? She opened her eyes and looked straight ahead of her. She noticed that a little door was opened in the middle of the wall. She opened it further and realized that it was the electric box. Everything had been shut down: she wouldn't have to try to avoid the cameras anymore. She could not let herself falter now. She kicked herself mentally and decided to keep moving, focusing on her goal and making sure not to leave a trace of her ever being here. She climbed the stairs silently with her back against the wall but stopped suddenly when she heard a noise upstairs, at the right end of the hallway. Someone was still around…
She all but jumped the last stairs that separated her from the second floor and landed softly next to the big wooden chest against the wall and hid in the dark corner behind its left side. Being all dressed in black sure made it easier to hide in the shadows. She pulled her hood up to cover her tied up hair and most of her face, stopped moving completely and breathed as silently as possible. She could still see the stairs from her vantage point, so she saw the two men going down, one of them holding her precious painting and the other one bringing up the rear with his gun out. They were not even trying to be quiet: they were laughing, talking about a job well done and how they were going to be rich. This could only mean that they thought there were no threat left in the house. She felt intense anger rise inside of her, and she realized it was not even so much about the painting anymore. How could someone murder a whole family, and children, just for that? She remained hidden after she heard them exit the house, until she heard a car start up and leave, thinking how unfair the situation was. If things were different she could have done something to prevent it, or at least made sure that those men got what they deserved. But that would mean having to expose herself, and she had worked too hard for too long to throw it all away now. She was getting ready to leave when she heard coughing in the room the two men had just left. She decided the hell with it: if someone was still alive, she would never forgive herself for not doing anything to make sure they stayed that way. Even if that meant putting herself in danger. She was a thief, not a monster.
While she got to the door, she caught a whiff of smoke and her heart sank. Killing them was not enough, they had to destroy all their memories too? There was no time to lose now, she threw the door open and squinted instantly at the light inside. The top of the desk in front of her was on fire, and she saw the father half lying on his desk chair, a hole in his head. She had to act quickly because at this rate, she would soon barely be able to breathe. She heard more coughing coming from right next to the door, under a small table covered with a tablecloth. She didn't think twice: she pushed the table forward and it fell down with everything that was on it, revealing a small crouching girl with wide eyes. She got up instantly and started stabbing the air wildly with an ancient looking dagger, screaming like a lunatic.
The woman blocked all the attacks easily, removed the knife from the child's hands and took both of her wrists in one hand. She used the other one to remove her hood and looked at the girl, who looked back defiantly, even though tears were falling freely from her eyes. The woman's features softened to a concerned look, and she felt something stir inside of her, something she thought had died with her own daughter all those years ago, but still felt like yesterday. Maybe this was a reason why she didn't leave this house when she first noticed that something was wrong. She knew for certain that this little girl would have nowhere to go if she left her here, or dropped her off somewhere. The fire would ensure no one would think she was still alive or try to look for her. Even with the flames still spreading, she kneeled while letting go of her wrists and took one more moment to try and convince her.
"Don't worry, I won't hurt you. There's nothing left for you here, but I can take care of you, and I promise to make them pay for what they did to your family," she said gently.
The look of fear in the girl's eyes disappeared and she nodded. The woman smiled, and took the child in her arms before rushing back out of the house, never looking back. The replica she had made of the painting would have to occupy the empty spot instead of the real one. She now had a seven year old to take care of, and a vengeance to plan.