It had been such a simple plan. Get in, get the money, and get out.
Shaw had been planning the heist for months. Blackmailing Finch to hack the computer systems so she could sneak into the vaults had been surprisingly easy – the benefits of growing up with a computer genius, she guessed. Childhood pictures made for great blackmail material, especially when your foster father is about to get engaged and really doesn't want his potential fiancée to see a certain rodeo photo.
The break in had gone surprisingly smoothly, even with all of Shaw's planning. Reese had managed to swipe a security guard's key a few weeks ago, and with the variety of codes memorised to open all the right doors once Finch had shut down security, Shaw was practically whistling as her footsteps echoed through the bank.
There were no security guards. Reese had done a good job with that, too.
The corridors were silent as Shaw moved, even the whirring of the security cameras absent from the bank's usual background noise. One day Shaw would have to find out exactly how Finch managed to do that while staying under the radar, because the fact that she'd never been caught under his watch was a spectacular feat considering her line of work.
But as she passed one of the offices, she stilled. There was the unmistakable sound of paper rustling, only heard because of the cavernous silence of the bank. Shaw's eyes narrowed, and her hand slid to the gun which was holstered on her waist. Raising it up to shoulder height, she pressed herself against the door, one hand softly gripping the handle.
She slammed the door open, twisting so that her gun was pointed at the person in the centre of the room. The woman, eyes wide with fear, threw her hands up.
"Don't shoot!" she shrieked, frozen to the spot. Seeing that she couldn't do Shaw any harm, the robber removed her finger from the trigger, a snarl on her face as she assessed the brunette in front of her.
Well, she clearly wasn't dangerous – she looked like she might burst into tears, and there was no way she was carrying anything in that outfit: a leather jacket and pocketless jeans weren't exactly made for weapons, even if they did look pretty damn good on her. Shaw shook her head, taking in the new situation.
"Please don't hurt me," the woman whimpered at Shaw, who rolled her eyes as she lowered her gun.
"I'm not going to hurt you," she snapped, taking a step towards the other woman. "Why are you here?"
One of the woman's hands slid into her tiny jacket pocket, and Shaw raised the gun again with the movement. The brunette shook her head quickly, drawing a pair of keys out.
"I left these here I'm a bank clerk, I work here - and I didn't realise I'd forgotten them until I'd been out to dinner, so I came back to pick them up and then I heard your footsteps so I ran into here and-"
"I didn't ask for your life story," Shaw growled. "Is anyone else here apart from you?" The woman shook her head. "Alright then. You're coming with me. I can't leave you here unsupervised."
"I won't call the police, I promise."
Shaw raised an eyebrow.
"Sure you won't. And I'm here doing charity work." Shaw pointed her gun at the woman, nodding her head towards the door. "Now - come on, you're going to take me to the vault and open it. Better your fingerprints are on it than mine."
The woman slowly walked to the door, her eyes flicking between Shaw's face – she'd been too cocky, too confident to wear a mask – and the gun which followed her every move. The pair walked down the hallway, their footfalls in synch as they continued their march.
"So what's your name?" the woman asked, breaking the silence.
"You really think that's a question I'm gonna answer?" Shaw snorted in response.
The woman shrugged, a risky move with a gun pressed against her back. "Worth a shot. My name's Caroline. Caroline Turing."
"I don't care," Shaw said as they turned the final corner, the gleaming door to the vault shining in the darkness. Shaw pushed Caroline forward towards the vault door, nodding towards it as she kept her gun locked on the brunette, who turned to Shaw, biting her lip.
"You know, you don't have to do this," she said, her wide eyes blinking rapidly I'm what Shaw assumed was fear.
Shaw glared at Caroline.
"If you don't mind," Shaw hissed through gritted teeth, fist tightening around the gun which was carefully aimed so she wouldn't actually hit Caroline, but would come pretty damned close if she squeezed the trigger. "I'm trying to rob a bank here."
Caroline tilted her head, her chestnut waves spilling over her leather jacket as her look of shock spread into a cheshire cat grin. Shaw's face didn't move as Caroline's posture seemed to change, the nervous woman suddenly becoming far more confident.
"Funny, that," Caroline smirked, her hand dipping into the lining of her jacket. Suddenly there was a tiny gun pointed at Shaw's head, and she realised that Caroline might not actually be a bank clerk, but was certainly a fantastic actress. "So am I."
Shaw raised her eyebrows, her face remaining stoic as she altered the position of her gun. Now, if she shot, Caroline Turing would go down with the bullet.
"Looks like we're at an impasse, Caroline," Shaw said, keeping the gun steady. The woman opposite her grinned, her eyes roving up and down Shaw's body before she cocked one eyebrow up.
"Please," she said, tilting her head as she smirked in a way which looked almost predatory. "Call me Root."