Heists and Vengeance

Five

Brett

"Yes, baby! And that's how it's done!" Brett punctuated this with an air punch, as he grinned at his screen. "I'm so amazing."

Erin sniffed from the other side of the couch. "You're sitting on a sofa in a green onesie, clutching a stupid stuffed dinosaur. I don't think that makes you amazing."

Brett gasped. "Don't you ever insult Freddy!" He lifted the dinosaur over his head. solemnly "Freddy is a god among mortals. One stomp of his mighty feet can destroy civilizations. He is a king and-"

"What the hell is that?"

Brett and Erin turned slowly to the doorway, where Ryder stood, his mouth gaping open. His eyes were fixed on a point above Brett's head, and Brett followed his line of sight to the dinosaur still clutched in his hands.

"This? Oh! It's Freddy."

Ryder shook his head. "That is the stupidest thing I've ever seen."

"Hey!"

Erin laughed. "That's exactly what I said!"

Brett placed a hand over his heart in horror. "You two are horrible. You have no respect for the King. Mark my words, one day Freddy will get his revenge. On both of you."

With that, he jumped up and whipped around in mock indignation, ignoring the peals of laughter erupting from both Ryder and Erin.

"Wait-wait" Ryder gasped. "Is that a pom-pom on the back of your onesie?"

"It is. It's a sign of power and might. It- Don't laugh!"

"I'm sorry! It's just- "

"Oh my god, if you keep laughing, I won't tell you what that Turner chick said!"

Ryder stop laughing immediately, his eyes taking on a serious note. "She replied? When? What did she say? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Well, you were too busy laughing at me so..."

"Fair enough. Now show me the message."

Brett reached for his laptop, flumping into his chair as he opened up the messages. It had been hard to track that girl down. He hadn't understood why Ryder had asked him to message her at first, but after reading a few of her articles...he could tell that she was the perfect person for this job.

But despite how much she'd written, he'd seen no email address, no social media accounts. Finally, he'd found her on Controversy, where she seemed to be some minor celebrity on. From there, it had been easy to send an anonymous message, and hope for a reply.

Brett turned the laptop around, and watched Ryder's face as he read it. He nodded briefly. "Okay. Tell her to meet me at 3pm tomorrow at our place on Harlin Street. And this time, try to sound less stalker-like."

Ryder left before Brett could respond. He sighed, and spun his laptop back towards him. He sent the message, and she replied within seconds.

Okay.

***

Brett hated to admit it, but Carmichael really could throw a party.

Ryder had asked him to find out all he could about the exhibition while he went to talk to the Turner girl, and from what he'd read so far...well, he could understand why Carmichael's parties were always so popular.

Only a hundred people were attending, and they all seemed to be rich snobs. It was to be a four-day long event aboard Carmichael's private yacht. Brett had never actually seen it, but he'd heard of its grandeur. Guests were offered superb sleeping quarters, meals fit for kings, and professors from all over to speak about the world of art.

And the exhibition – the one that would hold the painting that they'd been asked to steal - was to go on for the whole four days, and the auction was saved for the final evening. From what he could see, the artworks that were to be displayed were worth millions of marks – but none more expensive than the one they planned to steal.

Brett blew out a breath. The heavy realization of what they were about to attempt was just setting in, and wow, he was nervous. Not that he'd admit it to anyone, of course. He had to be the confident, cool Brett everyone knew he was so that no one would notice anything wrong.

He shook his head and tried to focus on what he was reading, but all the thoughts were swirling around his head and making it impossible to concentrate. In fact, the more he tried not to think about his nerves, the worse they became, reaching the point where he couldn't think at all.

Suddenly, the door slammed open, freeing Brett from the thought spiral he'd been stuck in. He slammed his laptop closed, and leaped off the sofa. Erin was upstairs, busy with her own things, and Cole was out doing who knows what, leaving Brett alone to face whoever was in that hallway.

Their hideout wasn't that noticeable – it was a generic house, one of the many that lined the street. There was nothing about it to make it stand out to any passing patrolmen, but still...you never knew. Anonymous tips did exist, and many gangs had been shut down because of them. Brett steeled himself, and grabbed a revolver from a small cabinet. He cautiously stepped towards the door leading to the hallway, frowning as he realized that whoever it was that had entered, was taking a suspiciously long time out there.

He stood gripping his gun, and took a deep breath before flinging the door open to reveal-

"Ryder?"

Ryder whirled around to face him. Brett frowned as he took in his friend – drawn face, tight lips, tense posture...what was up with him? "Are you okay?"

Ryder stared at him for a second, in what seemed like confusion. Suddenly, the strange expression vanished, and his face cleared. It was strange really, Brett thought, the way Ryder could just erase away any emotion, the way an eraser rubs out pencil. It was one of Ryders many skills that he'd learned from who knows where.

He cleared his throat, and dropped his gaze from Brett's. There was a beat of silence, as he seemed to collect himself, before speaking.

"I'm fine. It's just...I'm fine."

Ryder strode to the stairs, likely heading to his room. His movements were hurried, as if he wanted nothing more to be alone at the moment.

"Hey-what about the Turner chick? What'd she say?"

Ryder paused at his position halfway up the stairs and turned back.

"She said she'll join us. She'll be here tomorrow." Ryder opened his mouth, as if to say something else, before shaking his head and closing it once again. He continued up the stairs at his rapid pace, leaving Brett alone once more.

A/N: So Chapter Five! Sorry it took me so long to write! So what do you guys think? What are your theories on what's up with Ryder?

Feedback would be awesome, thanks!

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