Vintage Roses

Chapter 2: The Most Boring And Anticlimactic Mission I've Ever Had To Endure

I stride down the main corridor, fastening a pistol to my belt as I walk. I can't believe how many years it's been since that fateful moment, but here I am - happy and healthy and free. The Deadlock gang are the craziest, silliest, and best family I could ever ask for, even if I miss my parents and uncle insanely. I'm just glad I managed to break into uncle's "antiques-shop-that doubles-as-a-home" and grab a few mementoes that I'd left in my room there last time - clothes, jewellery, gadgets and books, and Rosie the Riveter.

Ashe is waiting for me, but it seems Miguel is late. At first, this irks me, until I realize his tardiness gives me more time alone with Ashe. She is tapping her foot impatiently as I walk up, but when she looks up and sees me, her face relaxes into a smile. "Mornin' sugar. Ya ready for this?" I laugh. "Well, I'd be a lousy right-hand to you if I wasn't." She smirks, and it's hard to tell who's more proud of my current status - me or her. I love the way her eyes crinkle when she smiles, especially when it feels like that smile is meant for me and me alone, like now. We hold each other's gaze just long enough to generate a little awkward tension, and I desperately want to say something, my lips part - "Mornin', ladies." says Miguel Estravados, right behind me, and I almost groan in frustration. Ashe's immaculately-lipsticked mouth presses into a thin, hard line. "You're late." she informs Miguel, her voice sharp and icy. He quails under her gaze and mutters an apology, looking so miserable that I almost feel sorry for him.

The three of us go over the outlook plan one last time, Ashe asking us various questions to check that we remember our backup options, should anything go wrong. She seems somewhat more tense than usual, and I assume it's because of the sheer scale of the mission we're preparing for her to take on. This has to be the biggest heist we've attempted in the last two years, and I would know: I've been helping Ashe with the filing of every "case" since I was recruited. Looking at her through lowered lashes, I marvel, not for the first time, at how she manages to look so young and pristine despite everything we've been through. She's hard as nails, and I've never known her to crack under any amount of pressure, but there's another side to Ashe - the "family" side, where she takes off her mask to expose the warm, sassy, sarcastic woman that I adore. I don't realize I'm staring like a starry-eyed teenager until Miguel shifts beside me, breaking me out of my reverie.

At the door, Ashe stops me to straighten my collar. "Good luck, doll," she says with her trademark half-smile. I smile back, trying to ignore the warmth spreading across my cheeks. "Thanks, boss." She chuckles and tries to ruffle my hair, and I catch a glimpse of the vintage rose tattoos on her forearm as I duck out of her reach - she know I hate messing up my hair. Grinning, she pushes me and Miguel outside.

We walk in silence for some time, not really knowing what to talk about. Miguel is older than me, and was recruited a few years ago after a violent bar skirmish. The only thing we have in common is our hearty dislike of fish. Keeping our eyes skinned for any changes in terrain we might have overlooked before, we find nothing of interest until Miguel points out a natural cavity in a rock face that would make a good spot for an outpost. Intrigued, I edge closer. "Should we take a look?" I ask my companion, but he just shrugs at me. "I don't see why not." He doesn't sound happy at all, but he knows we've got to investigate. He would probably give me a leg up if I asked, but I prefer to scramble up on my own, and he follows. The roughly man-sized hole turns out to be a deep alcove, almost like a cave. It's not much, but it's close enough to the railway to be significant, and I think Ashe will be pleased. I can almost see her squinting at the map, marking the place on it with her big, felt-tipped red pen. She will have her tongue slightly out, its tip pinched between her teeth as she scribbles a name next to it.

Miguel looks at me with concern. "You alright there? You look quite loca, grimacing like that." His words wipe the grin right off my face.