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SIXTEEN-YEAR-OLD EVA LOKISON USED TO WORK ALONE.
For a long time, she thought it was better that way; fewer snitches. Fewer possibilities for things to go wrong. In fact, she really didn't even like people that much, and she didn't have many friends. To be fair, that wasn't completely her fault - something about a psycho mother and an absentee father really did take a toll on her ability to trust.
But then, one night at a party at some random house, she met Oliver Bastino.
And it wasn't like met met - she wasn't in love with him or attracted or anything. He was just sorta there, drink in hand, watching as Eva broke into a safe in the master bedroom, and stole a bunch of family heirlooms.
Since she was caught, she graciously offered him 10% for his silence. He didn't like the sound of that. She offered 20, but then he mentioned another safe in the study, and the two of them were suddenly 50/50 on everything, and within the next week, the two breaking into more houses than either had done combined prior.
But it wasn't like a Bonnie and Clyde sorta thing. Eva and Oliver did not love each other or anything like that - this companionship was for mutual gain. For this first time, Eva was really trusting someone, and again, it was not about attraction.
Oliver Bastino just had a good heart.
Admittedly, a rough personality but nevertheless, a good heart.
He'd bailed Eva out of a few tough situations (ATM robberies were way in her past), and then they just started to work on things bigger than houses and ATMs and pawn shops.
They got to the good stuff. Stolen phones and appliances and electronics - and now, on a Friday night, the supposed motherload: giant robot looking metal contraptions?
"You've gotta be kidding me," Eva groaned as she pulled back the plastic tabs of the case she had spent ten minutes disabling. From across the aisle, Ovlier frowned down at her, his eyes trained to the metal pieces in her hands. "You brought me to a toy factory? That's so screwed up," she told him in disgust, letting the scraps tumble from her arms and noisily fall back into their bin. "I'm not stealing from children."
Walking over to her, Oliver corrected, "You'd be stealing from their rich parents, not the children."
Eva rolled her eyes, watching as Oliver examined the dissembled pieces in the box. As he pulled one out to get a better look, something changed - he tensed up, his jaw setting as he stared down at the toy with newfound fury.
"What?" Eva demanded, moving to get a better look at it, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. When he didn't respond, she repeated, harsher, "Olivier, what is it?"
"These aren't toys," he stated, throwing the piece back in the bin then standing up, leaving Eva to scramble behind him. "We've gotta get out of here."
