Title: Stole
Disclaimer: Nothing but Gypsy is mine. HA! Deal with it.
Genre: Humor/Angst/Romance/BLAH!
Author: Hellcat the Wicked
Summary: It's a simple tale. Boy meets girl. Girl is a thief, boy is a homicidal maniac. Girl steals his lucky blade, boy tries to kill her horribly. Where shall we go from here?
Author's Note: Got tired of everyone making Johnny meet, and fall in love with, a girl who's sugar, spice and everything nice. I swear, though she seemed it in Chapter One, Gypsy is not a Sue. She's quite the bad girl, actually. The kind that Johnny would actually hang out with. No offense to the lovely and talented Chaya, who's story "Koli" inspired this, but frankly I was going for something a little different. If this has been done before, I swear I didn't know about it!

Chapter Two:
Not YOU again!

She chuckled and slid the ruby-encrusted blade into her belt. It would certainly bring in some much-needed cash. A part of her actually felt sorry for that poor, skinny kid she'd beat up. It wasn't really fair for her to use her freakishly-strongness on him. But then again it hadn't been all that nice of him to try and kill her, either.

Once she got inside her apartment, however, her mind was occupied with something else entirely. She didn't have time for regrets, for she was going ONLINE! The first thing she did was check her mail, seeing if Dale – her tech – had any new gadgets for her to play with, then she logged in to Ebay.

"Priceless diamond necklace, selling for 120,000.00 to start. Any bidders?" she muttered, smirking. Within minutes she had a rich buyer from Japan shelling out double what she'd asked for, and pitching in for the next-day delivery. Chuckling, she did a background check, just in case he was one of those pesky Fed.'s that seemed to enjoy chasing her. To her great satisfaction, she found that he was not. Just some wealthy idiot looking for a new bauble for his mistress.

'You know, with your computer skills you could just transfer money to your accounts. Without the hassle of actually stealing things.' Her mind pointed out.

"But where's the fun in that?" she demanded. Once the transaction was complete she logged off and stretched. She was bored. Nothing to steal for a while, and absolutely nothing interesting to play with. "Am shooting Dale for not having more tech-toys for me."

'Great, you're bored.' she thought. 'What are you supposed to do to entertain yourself now?'

A sadistic smile danced across her lips.

"I think I'll go dancing." She announced to no one in particular. With that she grabbed her black, leather, trench coat and slipped out the front door, intending to 'borrow' the BMW motorcycle she'd spied down the street.


Johnny, having no black-haired, black-eyed girl to take out his frustrations on, proceeded to kill the boy behind the counter at the 24/7. He would find her, of course, but there was no point in hunting if he wasn't going to be careful about it. When they knew they were being stalked, there was time to prepare. To protect themselves. Not that he thought she needed protecting. That had been odd. She'd actually escaped.

How very perplexing.

He was going to have to make sure that her death involved broken kneecaps and lots of chains. He couldn't let her get away twice. That would just be…

"STUPID!" he screamed, giving the corpse of the greasy-faced boy one last kick.

He gulped down his brain-freezy and slithered off, headed home. He needed to stock up on weapons before he took on that evil girl again. As luck, and demonic intervention, would have it, he noted an unfamiliar sound on the air. One of those new BMW motorcycles was headed south, passing his house in the process. People in his neighborhood did not drive BMWs. They couldn't spell BMW.

He recalled that sparkly string of diamonds about her neck and knew in an instant who it was. Only someone like her would have the gall to drive about at 3:00 AM on one of the most expensive of vehicles ever made. He observed the slick, black thing from his attic window, and noted that it sped right onto Cherrywood Road. She was headed toward The Scull, a dance club that had supplied more than its fare share of idiot prey. Splendid.

"Suddenly, I'm in the mood to dance." he muttered.


Flashing lights, writhing bodies, and hard-core rock and roll. Gypsy was in heaven…minus the flying bunnies. She walked toward the back of the club, where the bar was, and ordered herself a rum and coke with six cherries floating about. She was celebrating.

"Excuse me," said a voice. Gypsy grinned and sucked the liquor off one of the cherries. "would you like to dance?"

Dance? Her? She observed the boy in front of her and smirked. Shoulder-length, black hair, violet eyes, and very pale skin. He wore all black and frankly, he wasn't bad looking. In fact, there was something about the way his trench grazed the tops of his combat boots that put fire in her blood. She was a sucker for the bad boy.

"Sure." she said, and gulped down the rest of her drink. Out onto the dance floor they walked, heads bobbing to the beat of a particularly angry-sounding song. Once they found a suitable place, the two began dancing; their bodies gyrating provocatively against each other.

"So what's your name?" he asked, shouting in her ear to be heard.

"Gypsy, what about you?" she replied.

"Malachite."

Gypsy grinned dangerously and grazed her hands over his chest. She could tell she was having a pants-shrinking effect on him, simply by the way his smile went lob-sided and his eyes sparkled. 'Why not?' she thought, though she could hardly hear her own inner monologue over the music. 'He's cute and I can't remember the last time I got some. What was it, three nights ago?'

"Hey, Malachite!" she called, pressing her body against his. "Wanna get outa here?"

He grinned smoothly, and opened his mouth to reply, but stopped. His face was frozen. He went limp in her arms and slumped against her, making her grow annoyed and toss him backwards.

"Hey, I don't do it in public!" she snarled. That was when she noticed the large knife protruding from his back. 'Oh, so he's dead. That explains it.' She watched the body fall onto the filthy floor and tried very hard not to chuckle when he made gurgling sounds. That was when she noticed the tall, thin boy gliding toward the corpse. He yanked the blade free of the flesh and pointed it at her, a maniacal glint in his cold, dark eyes.

"I believe you have something that belongs to me." he said. His voice was dangerously steady and fierce.

"Aw fuck, not YOU again!"

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