Secrets of the Crown Assassins

01

PHOENIX

The plan was simple.

Get in, manipulate a few idiots, steal some diamonds, and get out. But then my sister just had to appear out of thin air and fuck up one of our biggest heists.

And she wonders why I never visited her in the past eight years.

The day started off normal, giving no sign of the looming disaster. I got up, kicked some ass, readied precautions in case one of the crew members decided to betray us, and then geared up for our big heist of the year. It wasn't until evening time that I was standing on the roof of a failing building, looking down at the bank across the street.

The sun was starting to set on the city of Chicago and guards patrolled the streets. I had no doubt at least a few of them carried the tattoo of a raven carrying a crown in it's beaks on their forearms, though they were properly hidden under their uniforms.

I looked out over the cityscape and checked the time in my shoddy watch before bending down and getting ready to jump. I had no clue where the others were since we carried no communications device to this specific heist. Didn't want the guards catching whiff of our signals. We could only go based on time and hope everyone was ready for their part.

Right on cue, a blast exploded down the street. A building not too far off tumbled to the ground and people spilled into the street as plume of dust rose in the air. I spotted a boy with green eyes, someone on my own crew who set off the bomb with precision, run up to one of the guards. I couldn't hear Brandon, but I knew he was acting out the play I wrote for him and the men on the stage.

As if they were a part of this theatre themselves, a few of the guards broke away from the others and ran into the dust to save an imaginary crippled uncle. I couldn't stop the corners of my lips from quirking up. People were so easy to manipulate, especially those who thought they were invincible.

I backed up a few feet and darted across the rooftop and jumped off the edge. The guards below didn't notice the ghost soaring through the sky as the dust cloud spread and settled the bank in a strange fog. The setting sun shone mirages through the cloud, making things appear that weren't there. The guards left would have a hard time figuring out if there were truly people around them, or even that the explosion was planned. Building collapses weren't as common in Chicago as other cities in Concorde, but they weren't strange either.

I hunched down on the bank's roof, hiding between the ledge and a brick wall for cover from a camera, and peered down. Like clockwork, one of the guards returned from the fallen building and rejoined their crew. They exchanged a few words and, after a few glances at the gloomy wreckage, one of the guards opened his Tab to communicate with his seniors.

I pulled out a little black box with two buttons and pressed down on one. The small, old screen blinked for a few seconds before the words "Signals Sensed" appeared on the screen. I held down the button again until the words "All Signals Jammed" flashed red.

The guards below tapped furiously at their Tabs as the holographic screens showed only static colors. The guard who came back from the fallen building exchanged a few more words with the man—something along the lines of "I'll go check what the fuss is about"—and darted through the bulletproof glass doors of the bank.

And, just like that, one of our girls, Tressa, was in. 

Now, it was my turn. I tied my red hair and hid it underneath my hood before placing my thick, black mask above my nose. I scurried across the rooftop, trying to stick to the shadows not to hide but rather for show. Let them think they were beating me at my own game. Let them think they were unstoppable and always successful in their jobs. They'll be crying over their own egos by the end of the hour.