Clean Slate

Prologue: The First And The Second

This is the only warning you get! These are for the entire book.

READ AT YOUR OWN RISK: Mentions & descriptions of violence with an abundance of weapons, assault (of various kinds), a bit on the mature side for some references and jokes but not overly so, panic attacks, health conditions, and murder/death.

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The mission was easy. Get in, get out. Leaving shouldn't have been as hard as it was.

But the alternative of staying...

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The first thing moving that dark September night was the spark plug against the window.

The small tool made not a noise, even as the glass underneath it was slid from its original position with feather light movements by gloved hands.

Someone dropped down into the building through the hole, careful not to disturb the new, sharp edges from where they'd cut into the slanted, glass roof. Taking the circular piece from the person still outside, they set it down and stepped back as they soundlessly landed beside it. The two shared a nod, and went off in two directions in a zig-zagging pattern.

One, on the right, moved to a circuit box on the wall, silently unmasking the power conduits above with only their brilliant cerulean eyes, the only thing visible on either person. They pulled their hood off with one tightly gloved hand, revealing brown hair with blonde highlights that, had it not been tied up, would have cascaded down to barely past their shoulders. Silently, they extracted a single bobby pin from it for only a second, pulling the hood back up and securing it around their- her- head in the next, leaving not a trace as she was concealed again.

The other came up behind her, reaching over to hold the cover of the board open. The first got to work on the wires, quickly rearranging them as if hacking into a computer. Her blue eyes narrowed at it, and they stood again, signaling for their companion to shut the breaker box. With another shared nod as it shut seamlessly, the two proceeded to walk sleathily down the hall, coming to another, metal door.

A smug glint appeared in the second's mismatched eyes. The left was light brown, bordering on orange, the other being a pale green. They gestured to the smaller box to the left of the entrance. In reply, the first sauntered over to it and inputted what seemed to be the code. It was her turn to gesture menaingfully as to say, you first.

With a theatric bow as if they were not breaking and entering, but perhaps two teenagers lost on a school field trip, the second moved forward. The first stayed put, watching her companion disappear into the mysterious room. There was nothing to hear, and as the time they'd separated grew, the second folded her arms and leaned against the wall, warily scanning the area they'd just come from.

Marcellan Museum, a sign high above them read, hanging grandiosely from the ceiling. The surrounding walls were a bold, royal red, with a pale yellow strip cutting through the middle all around, jutting out like a shark's fin to the surface of water. It was taller than it was wide. The floors were an unremarkable gray marble, with the prints of a thousand daily shoes running to and fro across them. There was a plethora of exhibits, with less than two feet between each one. All of them together filled even this large room. Security cameras were, indeed, located above, but drooped down from their respective positions. Disabled.

They should keep their controls hidden, mused the first, the telltale crinkling of a smile under her eyes. Or the wrong hands may get on their precious treasures.