On a beautiful Oceanside summer day, Evan enjoyed a large cotton candy on a stick. Just a beautiful woman taking part in community goings-ons...
No one would suspect her of anything nefarious... in fact it was the perfect prop to get away with murder.
But don't worry, her mission was sans bloodshed; that's what made it so perfect. Breezy like a day at the beach.
Sugar melted easily on her tongue as she made way through the bustling weekend crowd. The festival was put on by White Haven, a regional bank, and some of their business partners. Everything was branded with their logo symbolizing a harmonic home but Evan wondered how anyone could think a bank had their best interests at heart - but that was neither here nor there. Besides, despite her Robin Hood-esque beliefs, they weren't her target, just collateral.
It was one of their partners: a car dealership, which was a front, of course. They did well enough to appear legit, operating as a run-of-the-mill purveyor of used cars but Evan knew better... and she was going to ruin their Summer Solstice.
She kept careful track of the clock, spending her wait time enjoying what the fair had to offer, such as her half-eaten cotton candy; but it wasn't as innocent as it looked. She made a rounder and even purchased a crystal necklace, taking care to sign the small shop's guestbook under a pseudonym. When she took note of a small bar and its patrons, lamenting that her duties denied her a fresh marg, she had to do a double take. Was that...?!
No... no.
All white dudes look alike, that's all.
When the cotton candy was near its end, she made way for the restrooms. However, as a woman of some standards she was not about to use a port-a-john. She dipped inside of the rec center situated at the north end of the festival and made way for the restroom, ready to use the excuse of 'sticky sugar' if she came across a bulwark.
In the restroom, she cleaned up any evidence of crystalized sugar. She stashed her wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses in a tote she planted in the air vent above the third stall. In their place, she dawned a new pair of darker-tinted glasses and a wig. She threw a carefully chosen cover-up over her dress complete with a drawstring beach bag, the perfect size to fit today's pay day.
Satisfied, she exited the bathroom with mind for the administrative office. Now, this was a small park op and its recreation center was old. The administrative office still had wood paneling on its front from the 70's and decades of scuff marks and scratches along the painted cement blocks making up its walls. It smelled vaguely musty, but she wasn't there to sign up for a membership. During the festival, they used the office to stash cash drops, but timing was key: after the midday lunch crowd but before afternoon where appropriate parties would pick up the cash and take it away.
Evan picked the old lock easily and slipped into the office, taking care to close the door behind her. It was all too easy to access the cash which was locked in a pair of vintage metal cabinet drawers, one right over the other.
Her eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas. Just as she dipped her hand in and grabbed a lazily banded wad of cash, she caught hushed voices at the door. Then, metal against metal...
Panic flooded Evan. There shouldn't be anyone back here for at least 20 more minutes! Quietly as she could she closed the drawer and dashed for the first hiding place she could squeeze: under a large desk across the room.
By the skin of her teeth, she settled just as heavy padded boot falls filled the room and headed for the same cabinet.
One voice sounded: "It ain't even locked."
Another answered eagerly: "Well I'm not complaining, c'mon!"
Shuffling continued and Evan could discern well-enough: they were here to steal the money, same as her.
Well, that's just fucking ducky. However, in interest of her safety she remained quiet. This wasn't a gig she brought any sort of weaponry too - it was supposed to be low-risk.
Finally, the voices quieted and she strained to listen. They hadn't closed the door again but she held herself tightly to remain still and silent...
...but when a gun suddenly appeared beneath the desk, pointed right at her face, she knew it hadn't been enough. A gruff voice sounded from above, "Come out slowly..."
As bid, Evan crawled out from under the desk and managed to hold up her hands when the man with the gun grabbed hold of her and she let out an instinctive gasp. However, when she locked eyes with Baz (who was thinking a mile-a-minute about their current predicament) she lost all sense of panic and she dropped her hands. Her stance went from careful survivor to annoyed sister - confusion flared up into Baz' eyes and she spoke before he could, "This is my haul," she started, taking off her sunglasses.
Evan could feel Pope at her six, the barrel of the gun hovering at the low of her back, "Pope, put that thing down unless you plan to use it, Papi," she said, glancing over her shoulder.
The entire room was in shock. But Evan knew they still didn't recognize her - a wig and a decade between them could do that. So, Evan removed her wig, shook out her hair and put out her hands like 'see?' and she watched as realization flooded the brothers.
"Jesus Christ" Craig started, mostly in relief, "The fuck you doin' here, Evan?"
"The wig wasn't just for fun, Craig," Evan replied with more hostility than she meant, but having a gun pointed at your head could really get your blood pressure up. Obviously she was there for the same reason as them but Craig wasn't the sharpest crayon in the Craig box.
Finally, she heard the safety click back onto the gun in Pope's hand as he spoke, "Haven't seen you in what...a decade?"
Evan managed a look over at her shoulder. It had been about ten years, but Pope somehow seemed almost unchanged. A little harder, maybe, but still distinct and just as frightening, "Something like that."
"Well look, Evan. This isn't exactly a happy reunion," Baz said with a sharp edge to his tone, "Last time we saw you, you were fucking like fifteen...?!"
It was 'sixteen going on seventeen', but Evan wasn't going to interrupt with a musical number.
"...we need to trust that you aren't going to leave here and go blabbing about this to anyone." Baz said sternly. His gut instinct told him that she wasn't a "go to the cops" type, but a lot happened in ten years, and an intimate witness like Evan could ruin more than just leaving a decent haul behind.
"I want half," Evan said certainly. She might be the outlier but she knew she had some power. Baz was right, she wasn't a snitch but that didn't mean there weren't other people that would be pleased to know who lifted the White Haven Festival funds in exchange for reciprocities.
Baz' jaw set tersely.
"Oh fuck off-," Deran started. It was unfortunate, because she and Deran had been cool the last time they saw each other, but threatening the amount of his cut probably had something to do with the hostile reply, "We're leaving with our money."
"And I'm leaving with a cut, Dare."
Craig gave her a dangerous look as Deran took a half step forward but Baz, the mediator, returned, "Alright, alright!" he said, shaking his head. He glanced around in wary; he knew their time was beyond up. They couldn't hash it out in the office anymore. They needed to be half a mile from the festival by now.
That's when Baz let out a heavy, low sigh from his nostrils as he hung his head for a moment but when he raised it in certainty and met eyes with Pope, the plan was set in motion.
In perfect execution, Pope used a military move to render Evan unconscious with very little struggle. Baz helped put her sunglasses back on her face and Pope ditched some of his gear to his brothers to walk Evan out a back entrance like she'd just had too much to drink, where the boys would pull up the car and they could get her in, hopefully, without notice.
Baz took Pope's gear and tossed Evan's wig back at his brothers. Deran caught it on instinct, "What the fuck you want me to do with this?" he asked in a freaked out tone.
"Fucking put it in your bag!" Baz said, tone high in stress.
With that, the boys split, three taking their planned exit routes and Pope moving for a side door with their unexpected haul.
How they were going to explain this to Smurf was anyone's guess.