Disclaimer: WIO (wish I owned)
Star of David
As the woman and her accomplice, Kurt, reappeared at CC, command central, and put the money down, they split apart and went to review surveillance tapes or change.
"How's your first gig?" Kurt was asked as he came out of his room wearing sweats and a black tee. He looked around to see Evan reviewing pre-robbery tapes. He took his headphones off and swiveled around to look at Kurt.
"Pretty good, really. It vas not fun, per-se, but better zan being here at CC." Kurt answered coming over to sit in his chair next to Evan's.
"Tech support is the pits. I had to watch, like, seven hours of Jean and Kitty and you casing the place. I mean, I think I fell asleep when Jean started flirting with the teller." Evan was bitter because this robbery had been an NFN, White Glove lingo for "no force needed," meaning Evan had to sit this one out and be tech support with Scott. Evan and Scott had "violent" abilities—Evan grows and throws bone spikes, and Scott shoots searing hot red lasers out of his eyes.
"I vanted to fall azleep in ze vater, but I couldn't. I vas vondering vat took so long." Kurt said, and Evan shook his head.
"Man, we've got to get rid of that accent of yours. You sound like you came fresh from Germany."
"Hey, may I point out, man, zat I am fresh from Deutschland! I've only been viz you guys for vat, two, maybe zree veeks? Give me a break!" Kurt cried in exasperation, throwing his hands up in the air as Rogue stormed into CC.
"Did sahmone forgat ta pick me up? Hm, ah wander!" Rogue spat at the German.
"Hey, sorry, Rogue! I forgot!" Kurt held his arms above his head to protect himself from assault by the angry Mississippi girl, who rained gloved blows on his arms, sometimes hitting his head or shoulder.
"D' – ya – know – haw – far – it – is – fram – tha – gig – ta – here?" Rogue demanded in between blows. Kurt yelped an "I don't know".
"Way too far!" Rogue turned on her heel and stomped out of the round tech room down the metal hall to her room. Kurt and Evan winced simultaneously as they heard her door slam viciously hard. Though, as Rogue disappeared, Jean and Kitty appeared.
"Whoa, like, what happened to Rogue?" Kitty asked, looking over her shoulder at the door.
"I forgot to pick her up and she had to valk home," Kurt muttered, rubbing his bruised forearms.
"She teaches quick, doesn't she? I doubt you'll forget next time." Jean smirked, walking over to help Scott analyze the tapes. Evan had put his earphones back on, but stopped the tape he was working on and took his earphones off.
"Hey Jean! Why do we even have to watch these stupid tapes? You blew the place!" he shouted across the room. Jean turned slowly.
"These tapes were recorded and sent immediately to a backup facility in Washington, so there's still a copy out there. We need to watch these to make sure there's no evidence of us up until the blast. Then the tapes end." Jean added nastily.
"It doesn't bozzer you zat you blew up dozens of innocent people?" Kurt asked heatedly.
"No, not really. We got the job done, we got our money, yes?" Jean answered, smirking evilly at Kurt's outraged look. "JOKING," she blurted. "Everyone was out when I blew that joint."
"You absolutely sure?" Kurt asked suspiciously.
"Kurt, chill. I'm a telepath. I would've known if there was anybody in that bank. Why, particularly, do you want to know?" Jean replied.
"I vanted to know if I should pray for anybody's soul," Kurt answered, averting his eyes.
"You never said you were religious, man." Evan commented with a small amount of surprise.
"Look, Kurt, we may be thieves—high class thieves—but we're not homicidal maniacs. Sure, a security guard here or there that may have known too much, but that's just part of the job application. You knew that when you joined the White Gloves." Scott supplied. He stopped his last tape. "We're clean, no footage of the robbery. Kitty took the cameras out just right."
"Good. Evan, up and out. I'll start dinner." Jean started down the hall to the kitchen.
~*X*~
The next morning, after Kurt had brought the papers in – they subscribed to three national newspapers, and four local ones, to make sure nobody had found out and keep tabs on other thief gangs – they were headlines on three of the four locals, and had a whole article at the back of one of the nationals, "commemorating" their fortieth robbery.
"Kurt, give us the headlines," Scott requested. Kurt pulled out two of the locals in each hand, the third in his tail.
"Vite Gloves Destroy Coastline Bank, No Casualties In Latest Vite Glove Strike, und Five Million Stolen By Vite Gloves. Ze national article heads Yet Anozzer Perfect Robbery Of Ze Vite Gloves. Ve seem to be very media-friendly, ja?" Kurt read, and looked up at the other White Gloves members.
"Scan the national article – see if they mention any names." Jean said, stirring her cereal. Kurt plopped down in his chair across from Kitty, scooting back and crossing his ankles on the table.
A few phrases jumped out at him, but nothing major.
"Small group of high-class zieves . . . famous for no-casualty robberies . . . robberies nationally . . . stolen art, jewelry, money, technology . . . named Vite Gloves for zeir flawlessly evidence-less crime scenes vere zey leave a crime scene . . ." Kurt muttered. "Nope. You guys really get around! So, tell me, vy not just blow up ze crime scene all ze time?"
"It might be historic, or have nice architecture," Jean said.
"Or be in a highly populated area, or we might just be stealing one item and leaving the other items intact," Scott added.
"Sometimes we know the owner of the place we're robbing and don't want to ruin them," Kitty supplied.
"And sometimes we just want to drive the cops insane. We must have so many cold case files," Evan laughed. Rogue marched in at that moment and poured herself a moody bowl of cornflakes.
"Wow. Zat's pretty . . . cool, I guess. So, how did you all get into zis zieving business?" Kurt asked conversationally.
"Scott and I worked for the CIA, but retired. Well, not really retired, but made it look like we were assassinated on a mission to Afghanistan. Both of us are trained in jujitsu [1] and self-defense, and work well gathering intel. My mutant abilities lended me well to espionage. Scott just liked the glamour. We were partners on the Afghanistan mission, but there we decided that it would be more lucrative to sell intel rather than just report it, so we had the whole sniper thing set up, and I planted a few false memories in "eyewitness'" minds. Easy as pie, and nobody would suspect us." Jean explained. Scott nodded, but kept shoveling eggs and toast into his mouth.
"Yeah, and whayle they wahr tourin' the US under new aliases, they mayt me. Ah'd run away from home, an' was workin' with the Thieves' Guild in Mississippi. Thieves' Guild is baby compayred to this. Plus, ah was only a for-hayre thief, so I didn't get payed much. Jean an' Scott gave me the ahpportunity to start a new lahfe." Rogue commented through a mouthful of cornflakes. Kurt nodded appreciatively. At least Rogue had seemed to have forgiven him.
"After their first robbery, they were still little stuff on the thief gang scene," Evan started. "A few more flawless robberies, and Jean, Scott, and Rogue had made local headlines in my neck o' Chicago as the White Gloves 'cuz apparently the cops took white gloves to the place, and didn't even find a speck of dust, the crime scene was so clean. The only thing wrong was the missing artworks on the walls. After they got their name, I tried to find them. I'd hang out at night at possible targets – my parents thought I suddenly took an interest in art. Finally, one night, I got real lucky. Rogue was doing a solo gig to steal some fancy jewelry, and I caught the scruff of her jacket on a spike. Like I said, real lucky. I kinda begged, but they let me in."
Kitty stayed quiet, eating her fruit salad. Kurt took his feet off the table and leaned toward her. "How'd a little Kätzchen like you get into a dangerous pack of zieves?"
"It wasn't voluntary. My mother owns a Jewish Holocaust Museum in upstate New York. We'd just gotten a new exhibit – a pure gold Star of David, crafted by liberated Holocaust survivors. It was gorgeous – but horrible. About two feet in diameter, it had all these people carved into it, all like skeletons, suffering and screaming. It was just entrancing to watch as it rotated in its new case, the lights just sparking off the carvings. I stayed in the museum one night to watch it, and when the White Gloves came to steal it, they stole me too." Kitty said quietly, rubbing her thumb over a small gold Star of David on a chain she had pulled out of her shirt.
"But vat did you do viz ze Star?" Kurt asked, turning to the others. Evan looked away, Rogue glared at her cornflakes, and Jean stayed silent.
"Melted it down into gold ingots and sold it." Scott said quietly. Kurt's anger boiled inside him. How could they do that to such a sacred artifact?
"I begged them not to. They wouldn't listen. They said it was for the money. I mean, they let me have this Star. Jean made it out of some of the gold of the big Star." Kitty responded softly, her eyes still on her salad.
"You could have sold it to a collector! Zose private collectors pay millions for zings like zat!" Kurt said hotly.
"Cool it, hot stuff! We were working for a client, and they wanted gold, not a Jewish artifact. We had to melt it." Scott said, his voice becoming heated.
"Both of you, chill! What's done is done! We can't reverse the past!" Jean interrupted the brewing fight, glaring hard at both of the boys. Kurt leaned back slightly, keeping his blazing gold eyes on Scott's shades. There was an uncomfortable silence for several minutes, in which Kitty excused herself from the table, a tear running silently down her cheek, taking her fruit salad with her to her room.
Kurt crossed his arms. Now look what you've done, the German thought venomously. You've upset her. She can't be older than fifteen. He proceeded to cuss Scott out and damn him to Hell in German several times, until Jean couldn't bear his dark thoughts any longer.
"Look, Kurt, stop it! You're being childish. I understand you're upset, but let it go! Really now! There's no need to hate people that much!" Jean said, her voice higher than its normal pitch.
"Yes zere iz. He's a filzy rotten zief—" Kurt started saying, his eyes darkening, before Jean interrupted him.
"And look at you! You're no better, you're part of the White Gloves too!" her voice shot up two octaves. Rogue and Evan exchanged a worried glance and quickly bowed out of the kitchen. "You know what, I'll just let you two sit there until you stop wanting to kill each other!" Jean shouted shrilly, turning on her heel and stomping out of the kitchen.
Kurt's eyes bored into Scott's as they entered a staring match. Scott's eyes watered behind his shades, but he kept them open, confident Kurt could see his eyes. Moments later, Kurt blinked and averted his gaze.
"You know vat, zis iz stupid. I von't get into a fight about ze Lord viz an azeist like you." Kurt said snidely, eyes flicking back up to Scott's before he teleported away. Scott's eyes really watered as the brimstone smoke hit them.
"Absolutely brilliant, Kurt. You ruined breakfast," Scott muttered harshly, looking to blame other than himself. If this was what it would be like to have the new German on the team, Scott was going to have to eliminate him before he caused the breakup of the White Gloves.
~*X*~
[1] Google it if you don't know what jujitsu is. But basically, it's pretty vicious martial arts, what my dad was doing when he broke his knee. Pretty awesome, though, too.
Reviews much appreciated, but no chapter 3 until I have at least 3.
