xp_logs | MIXTAPE: 'Opportunities'

Image by Mackinzie

The mansion outside of Vilnius was a middle finger to the rest of the city. It was ultra-modern, insanely conspicuous and looked like stacks of marble, steel and glass in mid-shuffle like a deck of cards. It was also the site of a party of the new rich. Not the nouveau riche of forty years before who wanted to be accepted. This was the hedge fund managers, crypto-bros, Silk Road drug dealers, and tech start up assholes who wanted to laugh and drink champagne as the world burned. Setting Felicia amongst them was like asking a genius to teach kindergarten; they had no chance.

"Security is expensive and lazy. God, I love these idiots." Kevin said from his perch, hidden in a closet with a direct link into the mansion's security system and subvocalizing so no one could hear him.

Felicia hid her smile behind her glass as she swiveled on her bar stool, presenting herself on an angle to the full room. She’d already drawn attention entering in the slinky black number she’d taped herself into – or at least two parts of herself – but the smell of the entire Tom Ford cologne collection hitting her at once had required a drink to breathe into.

“They’re perfect that way; they lose all their money before they can learn cost isn’t guaranteed quality.”

“They are venal and politically connected. I’m sure they’ll find a way for the taxpayers to make them whole.” Kevin brought up the feeds. “OK, man off to your left, blonde hair, big white smile – both fake – in the knock off Brioni. He’s got the security card to get past the service door.”

Her eyes hit the mark’s just as he shifted to greet a companion, arms wide. The corner of her mouth lifted, sliding her gaze down him as she lifted herself off her seat and crossed the room on tall heels that had several men who claimed 5’8” as 6 feet frowning and looking away. Felicia let the bottom of her glass rest on the blonde man’s shoulder a moment as she passed, it and her little smirk a distraction as her other hand guessed right on the first try that he was the sort to still have his card clipped to his waistband.

Moment over she continued to the exit and, ostensibly, the bathroom, dropping her drink on a passing tray.

“Nice pick.” Kevin said dryly. “Card gets you through the door. Security door is immediately after. Biometric scanner. We didn’t have time to build a false profile for you, so you’re going to need to do a physical bypass. I hope you snuck your electronics kit somewhere under that dress.”

“And ruin the lines of these curves?” Felicia asked, indignant. “This is why women carry purses. For phones and because I’ll only hold bills over $100 and diamonds in my cleavage.”

The first door made a pleasant beep as she passed through, pressing it closed with her back as she assessed the situation on the next door. Her clutch, a Gucci someone had expertly taken a knife to and put back together, was pried open with long, sharp nails to show a magnetic second flap that housed a small set of tools. The interchangeable screwdriver came out first as she set to work on the front panel.

“I’m trying to introduce some interference into the signal, give you a couple of extra seconds before an alarm is triggered.” Kevin said, clicking through the interface. “If you end up not needing it, I owe you a cocktail.”

“Give me the buffer, I hate digital locks. I’ll take a tumbler any day,” Felicia admitted, leaving one screw partially in just enough that the panel would twist open for now, and be easy to jam closed enough to a glance when she was done. “Oh thank god, they’re stupid and left an easily accessible USB port for updates.”

“You would not believe what they’re being charged for substandard security.” Kevin said, flipping between his feeds. He tapped in closer on one before consulting his map. “Speaking of, you’re going to have company in a couple of minutes unless he gets distracted. Better get through that door quick.”

One of the small sets of thumb drives, held beside the heads of her screwdriver, was already humming along. She watched the progress bar with one eye, the other seeking out a buried wire. “Oh, I’d believe it.” The screen flashed, the door making a barely audible clicking, and she yanked, catching the update in a loop. It was just sliding the panel back into place and waiting for another cycle of the loop; she caught the door as it reset and closed it behind her.

“With time to spare,” Felicia preened.

“I’ll add an extra gold star to the mission report.” Kevin replied. “There’s two safes here. The big one behind the Stanisławski – a forgery swapped in without their knowledge eight years ago – is heavy alarmed and a bit of a fake out. There’s enough in there to fool a thief, but the real one is a floor safe, to the right of the desk, under that terribly wingback leather chair. Looks like one electronic alarm feed and then just straight tumblers.”

“I knew you cared. Stickers and floorplans?” Felicia said in a playful tone, though with something low and truthful underneath. She wrinkled her nose at the chair, and the absolutely heinous amount of brass studs dotting the front. They made a soft clink noise against her heel as she kicked the chair back and out of her way, pulling back the rug hiding the seams of the safe.

“And stuff whatever comment you were going to make about getting me on my knees, we’re having a nice moment.”

“Never even crossed my mind.” Kevin said, looking over the security feeds again.

Felicia made a dubious noise, folding relatively gracefully considering her heels to kneel and assess the combo safe. It was a gift that it wasn't a strict digital keypad access in, that would have involved so much more tech or luck or both. Instead it seemed to be linked to a tampering system of some kind and then a simple spin lock, but if she could work fast enough. Well.

"Alright, shh now. Master at work."

"I'm trying to create a little lag but this system is getting into actual hacker territory now." Kevin tapped a couple of buttons and froze. "Hell, security. I need to relocate. Going dark. I'll be back in touch when I can find a new hiding spot." He abruptly cut the connection.

"Try not to die," Felicia muttered to herself absently, an afterthought, as she zoned in. She put in her earpiece, a wire connecting to the front that she tap-tapped with her fingernails to test the sensitivity.

And got to work.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

xp_catseye

I like the easy, matter-of-fact chemistry these two have during the course of a standard job and the way they keep each other, and themselves, entertained.

"The big one behind the Stanisławski – a forgery swapped in without their knowledge eight years ago" - also a nice reminder that evil geniuses are the exception, not the rule.

From:

xp_tarot

This is so vividly written I can picture everything happening in it.

The cologne, the horrible chair, the glass on the man's shoulder... this is gorgeously written

From:

xp_artie

Love this

From:

xp_longshot

Layers and layers of forgeries – from the new rich to plastic surgery to paintings. I love the details added, like Fi's standards for large bills only, or Kevin's ribbing criticism, as the two work.

From:

xp_daytripper

“And ruin the lines of these curves?” Felicia asked, indignant. “This is why women carry purses. For phones and because I’ll only hold bills over $100 and diamonds in my cleavage.”

I loled at this line. I just love the banter between these two.