The Crane and the Falcon

Chapter IV

"This is where the fun begins."

It wasn't hard to spot the goods. A sleazy looking man stood in the dim light of a nearby factory, long abandoned due to the docks being Falcone territory. The man slicked back his greasy hair and adjusted his cheap suit coat. "Miss Falcone," he said in greeting as she approached him.

She didn't like the tone, or his smile, but decided he deserved to return home with all limbs intact. "Thank you." She pressed a wad of twenties into his hands in exchange for the heavy black duffel. He smirked and checked the money quickly.

"Nice doing business with ya," he called as she left as quickly as she arrived. Sakura was not, however, out of earshot and her hand lay on her gun, just in case he decided to try anything. "Sexy-ass Jap," the man muttered to himself with a smirk.

A grimace and a gunshot later, the man was sniveling on the ground, hand clamped over the bleeding stump of an ear he was now left with. Sakura smirked and slid back into her car, throwing the duffel into the passenger seat. "6th street," she yelled to the men leaning against their Cadillacs. They nodded and hastily re-entered their vehicles. Sakura was known to let her cars gallop once traffic cleared a little and some found it hard to keep up with her.

They arrived at the 6th street building ahead of schedule. Sakura was to switch her guard for the rest of her team. The Lamborghini and the Cadillacs were stowed out of sight and switched with a sing beat-up Jeep Grand Cherokee. Sakura sat in the middle of the second row of the car, removing her shirt deftly. From the front seat, a man chuckled and a pasty boy barely out of high school stole glances at her in the mirror.

Sakura flipped them both the bird and pulled on a tight-knit nylon sweater. She pulled a Kevlar vest from underneath the seat and strapped it around her torso. "Where are my pants?" she asked warily, eyeing the men in the two front seats.

The driver began to laugh again, as did the boy. K.O. Wyte and Tom Barrett, a.k.a. T.K.O. and Virus. Typical, clichéd, and funny as hell.

T.K.O. pointed at Virus with a smile and Sakura cuffed him over the head. The boy snickered and passed back a pair of pants to match the tight shirt. The pads sewn into the legs were made with Kevlar as well, and the suit itself set Sakura back a cool $50,000.

"Real cute, Tom," she spat as she pulled the pants on under her Armani skirt in order to show the least skin possible.

Virus rolled his eyes as he opened his laptop. "I told you, my name is Virus," he said through clenched teeth.

"Well you are on MY payroll, so I will call you whatever I wish."

The boy was quite for a second as he pulled out his laptop and then began grumbling to himself. "You understand I won't be able to access the security unless I'm within a hundred yards."

"Of course I do. That's why we'll be parking the car in front of the entrance."

Even T.K.O. gave Sakura a surprised look and he had been working with her since her late teens. "Are you crazy?" he exclaimed.

Sakura's eyes twinkled. "Like a fox."

"Alright, lower yourself now. You have six minutes until the guard makes his way back." Virus's voice crackled over Sakura's radio and she pressed a button on her grapple gun. She was lowered slowly towards the limestone floor of the Grand Gallery of the museum. When she was about fifteen feet off the floor, completely level with the ledge that ran the length of the oval room. The lady thief snapped the gun to the belt around her waist and looked skyward. The dim stars were barely visible through the glass dome, but somehow they calmed her.

"The motion sensors?" she breathed.

"Deactivated."

"What about T.K.O.?"

"How come you call him by his name?"

"Because I like him better. Now where is he?"

"The Gold Wing. Guard incapacitated. Now get a move on!"

"Fine, fine, don't blow a circuit."

"I heard that."

Sakura scoffed and began shifting her weight until she was swing back and forth towards the ledge. With a grunt, she unhooked the grapple gun and swung herself onto the ledge. She landed in a crouch and then smirk. "Piece of cake."

All she had to do now was deactivate the plexiglass shields of the paintings and lift whichever one she pleased. Again, a piece of cake.

"You'll see a gray box up ahead on your left. Open it and press the red release button."

"Red release button," Sakura repeated in a whisper. She moved along the foot-wide ledge with a catlike grace until she reached the box and did what she was told. A loud noise made her jump and the plexiglass slid away, leaving the priceless paintings exposed. Sakura smirked and walked over to a spot on the ledge directly above a small, square painting of a bowl of fruit. She crouched and, utility cutter in hand, detached the painting from the wall. The woman held in warily in one had as she stowed the cutter back on her belt.

"Piece of cake," she whispered with a grin.

Dr. Jonathan Crane left the restaurant an hour after Sakura, though he and Falcone had little to talk about. He had agreed to a spot of light dinner, however, and the lobster bisque was a welcome change to the food served in the Arkham cafeteria. It was midnight when he entered his car, an older Lincoln Town Car, and pulled back onto the streets of Gotham. Traffic was dying down in the commercial sector of the city and it took little time for him to get from point A to point B, namely from the restaurant to his apartment.

He would not spend the night in the lab at the asylum again. He figured waking face down on a grimy metal desk in the Narrows was not on the top of his To-Do List. But something caught his eye as he passed the museum on the way to his apartment, pushing all thoughts of the previous night from his mind.

"What the-?" he murmured to himself as he slowed his car. In front of the museum, a woman in a dark mask flanked on one side by a beefy man in a ski-mask were leaving the building. She held something covered in black cloth that she gingerly loaded into the trunk.

Crane didn't know what had possessed him to slow his car and pull into the motor court of the museum, but suddenly he found himself pulling up behind the battered navy Jeep. The women heard him behind her and drew her gun as she spun around. Crane put up his hands with a surprised look on his face, but to his amazement, the woman holstered the gun with a visible smirk.

"Get out of the car," she called, and Crane complied. His curiosity was getting the better of him. He straightened as he got out of the car.

The woman laughed. It was a cold sound, like branches snapping in a winter wind. "Do you normally follow people, Mr. Crane?"

Crane slowly lowered his arms and raised an eyebrow. From behind Sakura, T.K.O. came out of the driver's side door and his hand strayed to his gun. "It's alright," she said to him. Virus poked his head out the door, curious as Crane.

"Who-?" Crane began but Sakura cut him off by removing her mask. His words hung limply in the air. "Ah," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Miss Falcone. So this was the job your uncle spoke of."

She smiled. "Yes. I was Christmas shopping." Crane cracked the slightest smile and made to get back in his car. "I suppose we'll be seeing more of each other, Mr. Crane?"

"I suppose so, Miss Falcone," he replied. Crane couldn't help notice the tautness of her body beneath the two-piece cat suit.

"Sakura, Mr. Crane."

"Jonathan."

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