282: A burning Rose - Chapter Five or Eight, Part Two

Title: A burning Rose
Author: daseylover14
Media: Book / Movie
Topic: Twilight
Genre: AU / Crime / Adventure
URL: A burning Rose – Chapter Five or Eight
Critiqued by Ghostcat

Hello, my sweet Patrons! Are you ready to get to the exciting conclusion of Chapter 5 or 8? First, let’s recap what happened in the beginning of the chapter; AbR made a dinner date with Munchkin, found a gangster named Godbole whom she instantly trusts for no damned reason to help her in her scheme, and now we’re all caught up.

The pacing of this fic has been about as slow and plodding as a club-footed turtle, but things promise to pick up speed after the shark-jump dinner date. Speaking of the dinner date from Hell, let’s jump on in!

When I arrived in the lobby he was already there, smiling at me. “Agent Cullen.” I spoke up behind him, obviously startling him. “Mary.” He said.

If she snuck up behind him and he was smiling at her, then Munchkin must have a mouth in the back of his head. He can brush his teeth and his hair at the same time!

 We stood there for a minute each taking in each others appearances. He wore black pants and a grey button down.

No costume porn for you, young man!

 ’He got ready in a hurry’ I mentally observed him. ‘His zipper is still half-open.’ I cleared my throat.

I’m not really sure what’s going on. Is AbR just looking at him and talking to herself, or is she actually reading Munchkin’s mind and watching him get dressed in his memory - or is it both?

 He looked at me quizzically while I resisted the urge to roll my eyes or laugh at the moron. Instead I blushed a little, but I couldn’t help the tiny chuckle that escaped my lips.

Unless you can see his man-carrot, there’s not really any reason to laugh at him. The polite thing to do would be to draw his attention to the fact that his barn door is open as quickly and quietly as possible.

“What’s so funny?” He asked with his eyebrows raised. “You.” I answered. “And what about me?” He asked. I decided to annoy him and show him that I’m just a stupid college girl in a less subtle way.

She was being “subtle” before? Oh, I’m going to hate this so much.

 ”You’re clothes.” I managed to get out through a fit of fake giggles. “And what about my clothes?” He asked back irritated now. “You’re pants. They’re open.”

:snerk: She just called Munchkin a pair of pants.

 Now I was in hysterics of fake laughs, which turned into a genuine grin upon seeing his embarrassed expression.

Ease up, Chuckles; laughing at his minor wardrobe malfunction like you’ve just had a snootful of Joker gas isn’t exactly going to convince Munchkin that you’re a normal girl.

 ’Aww, the guy was cute.’ I silently thought but quickly slapped myself for that thought internally.

Here, let me help you with that;

:THWACK!:

I don’t know exactly how someone would be able to slap themselves “internally” but it sounds much more painful than the external version. There’s no indication that Munchkin ever corrects his zipper situation, so I’m forced to conclude that he goes through the entire night with his flag flying at half-mast.

 ’He is a FBI-Agent. And not just any FBI-Agent no, he’s the one FBI-Agent handling your goddamned case!’ I mentally chastised myself. ‘+ I’m planning a robbery!’

Don’t beat yourself up, that’s what I’m here for.

With my mind now focused back on my job I smiled. We walked together to the restaurant and he pulled out a chair for me to sit.

So that was a chair in his pocket and he wasn’t just happy to see you!

“So, Agent Cullen, I bought a map of the temple with me and I thought I could interview you a bit about this overly smart thief.” I said.

Try not to break your arm patting yourself on the back, AbR.

 ”You can ask all you want, but why don’t we order first? I’m starving. What would you like?” He asked.

I wouldn’t let him order for you, AbR; if memory serves, he’s quite fond of mountain lion. (And Google says … I’m right! Wow, winning has never felt so much like losing.)

 I looked over the menu. “A chicken curry, with less onions in the tadka and rice and naan-bread to go with it and sparkling water.” I told the waiter with a smile slipping him a fifty discreetly.

Why did AbR just suddenly morph into Meg Ryan’s character from When Harry Met Sally?

It’s been a while since I’ve been to an Indian restaurant, but I’m almost positive that there’s more than one kind of curry containing chicken.

:Googles “chicken curry”:

Whoa. That’s a lot.

Even if this particular restaurant only has one chicken curry on the menu; unless AbR has eaten there before she has no way of knowing if the cook even uses onion in the tadka for the dish in question, so her little rant serves no purpose other than to make her look like a demanding yet clueless Westerner who just happens to know the names of a few Indian dishes.

When the waiter left Agent Cullen gave me a look and asked “Why’d you do that Mary? He didn’t even get us any food yet.” He asked referring to the money.

If I were you, Munchkin, I’d be more concerned about the fact that the waiter left before taking my order.

“That shows me you know nothing about India.

I have a sneaking suspicion that he’s not the only one.

 Because I slipped him the fifty, we’re sure to get our food hot, nice and most of all in a eat-able condition.” I laughed.

“Eat-able” – really?

Basically she’s tipping the waiter so he’ll do his job, something you normally see in movies when characters go to ultra-fancy restaurants. It is not known if this particular restaurant is that fancy, since it still lingers in the Formless Void.

I sure hope that she gave the waiter fifty rupees and not fifty dollars, since at current exchange rates fifty bucks is … holy shit, over twenty-eight hundred rupees! That’s roughly a month’s salary to some families in India.

 ”This is India, Agent Cullen, here the world runs with money.” I explained.

I hate to burst your bubble, dumpling, but that’s true pretty much everywhere. It’s not like anyone can pay an utility bill with rainbows and happy thoughts.

 ”So, I’d like to start with the layout I’ve made from pictures in the internet and see what you’re planning.” I said rolling open the map and putting something heavy at the corners of it.

The Internet is truly an amazing thing, even with all the tentacle-filled naughtiness out there, but Munchkin never told her where the temple is located. Google is fantastic, but it’s not psychic. (Yet. They’re working on it.) Of course, Munchkin is an idiot so he probably won’t notice that she’s been able to do an incredible amount of research on a building without knowing anything specific about it other than “it’s a temple in India.”

Go ahead, try Googling “temple in India” and see what happens.

 Agent Cullen looked at it for a few minutes completely speechless.

…

Shit, he actually noticed something strange! :fist pump: It’s about damn time. Get your handcuffs out, Munchkin.

“It’s surprisingly accurate.” He said.

Because she’s the goddammed thief, you dim-witted ninnyhammer! Arrest her NOW!

 ”Thanks, now what or more importantly how are you planning on stopping the burning Rose thief?” I asked.

:headdesk:

You’re just going to thank him for noticing that you have a damned map to a damned location that you shouldn’t know about and then immediately ask what the damned security measures are going to be?

GAHHH!!

Someone please bring me a basket of kittens, some ginger ale, and a bottle of Midori.

 ”It’s a pretty simple plan actually. There are going to be officers of the local police everywhere.” He answered.

:rubs forehead:

Please tell me he is not going to simply start discussing sensitive security information in a public setting without so much as asking AbR how she managed to get such a detailed map of a location she should be completely ignorant of.

 ”Everywhere as in?” I asked pointing at the map. “Usually the fortune is here.” He pointed at a room in the center of the temple.

:headdesk:

Excuse me for a moment.

:enters Cursing Closet:

-SEVERAL HOURS LATER-

What does Munchkin think he is doing? Is he so desperate to dip his quill in her inkwell that he’s just going to blindly ignore that fact that a complete stranger has a detailed map of the place he is supposed to be protecting?

 ”But since we’re dealing with “Rose” The fortune has been transferred into a side-way.” He pointed at an alley near the temple, somewhere close to the forests.

:headdesk:

Knuckle-licking monkey biscuits, he is! And he told her exactly where the thrice-damned treasure is going to be! Of all the stupid, idiotic, mayonnaise-brained stunts to pull, this is by far his most recent. And he’s putting the treasure in an unprotected alley near a dense forest! Why does it even have to be there; wouldn’t it make more sense to store that shit somewhere off-site and away from the world-famous burglar?

The author never specifies what this “treasure” inside the temple consists of or even where in the temple it is kept (Munchkin pointing to a spot on an invisible map doesn’t count) so I’m guessing it’s something like what’s in the vaults at Sri Padmanabhaswamy; a “vast collection of articles” of various worth, age and size. Not exactly the sort of thing you should just dump in an alleyway and cover with a tarp.

“Okay, what about the fortunes security and where am I going to be?” I asked. “Don’t worry about the fortune, I already have a whole Police Force watching over it and as for you, where do you want to be?” he asked.

:headdesk:

Why don’t you just gift-wrap all the pretty shinies and hand-deliver them to her hotel room?You are in charge of security, not her; if you insist on going through with this then you should tell her where she should be, not the other way around.

:THWACK!:

Dumbass.

 ”Of course I already know where I want to be….directly here.” I pointed at a small room in the temple with a window watching out towards the forests. “And why there? Why not here, in the middle, where Rose’s supposed to strike?” He asked.

That’s an excellent question, shit-for-brains. Why would someone want to position themselves closer to where the treasure will be rather than where it is supposed to be? Some might call that suspicious behavior.

I smirked a little. “From here I have an ultimate view over the fortune and I can finally see if the Rose thief is as smart as I think him to be.” I said matter-of-factly.

AbR’s reasons are nonsensical; the thief they are waiting for isn’t supposed to know the treasure will be in that alley so the thief would have no reason to pass through that area.

 ”Agent Cullen, where are you going to be?” I asked. “I’m going to be here.” He said, pointing at the pathway connecting temple and forest. I nodded with a smile and quickly rolled the map up as our food arrived.

Now that we’ve gotten all that mundane crime crap out of the way, it’s on to the fangirl portion of the dinner! I have Pepto if anyone wants a swig.

Thank goodness I’d slipped the waiter money, the food looked delicious and I dug right in. “Marvelous” I mumbled. “This is the best and spiciest food I’ve ever tasted.” Agent Cullen said, taking a sip of his wine quickly.

You should try Thai food, that stuff will melt your lips off.

I’m curious as to why Munchkin is drinking wine, I wouldn’t expect a small restaurant in a country where most of the major religions have restrictions against intoxicating substances (not to mention India’s draconian liquor laws) to offer alcohol on the menu.

 ”So, Mary how old are you?” He asked. “I’m nineteen.” I lied.

If she’s nineteen, then she’d only be a freshman in college. Would a college freshman really be taking a research trip for their thesis?

 ”Nineteen, huh?” He asked loosing himself in thought. “With nineteen I was obsessed of Rock bands and at my finals at the P.A (Police Academy)” He said.

That would be back in Ye Olden Days - when men were men and women were sad, pathetic washcloths who worshiped glitter-boys.

 ”How old are you now?” I asked. “I’m 21, and I’m the poor idiot who gets the case of the only thief who is smart enough that he or she could probably rob the white house…” He groaned.

:THWACK!:

Let me direct your attention back to Chapter 3 or 4, when AbR got her grubby little mitts on Munchkin’s personnel file. Of the very few facts we are given about Munchkin, one is his age – he’s twenty-six. Even if his age wasn’t already known, he couldn’t be twenty-one; in order to begin training as an FBI agent, you must be a minimum of twenty-three years old. (For gods’ sake, it’s right on their Wikipedia page!) Regardless of age, he’d have to be a damned good agent to be put in charge of a high-profile case like AbR’s; they don’t hand assignments like that out based on who has the nicest tie.

I’d also like to point out that in Chapter 6 or Chapter 3 Part 2, Munchkin was very confident that he would catch AbR quickly. He even says he was eager for the assignment! Now, for some unknown reason, he has done an about-face and suddenly joined the “AbR is the bestest thief evah!” fanclub.

 ”Aww, don’t be put out Agent Cullen, someday you were bound to meet your match.” I said in between bites. He only grumbled something unintelligible while chewing on his food.

Someone took their Smug Jackass pills this morning.

After we finished our food I got out my notebook and the forged essay. “So, let’s start with that interview.” I said with a smile. Agent Cullen nodded. “Just for protocol, your name is….?” I asked.

H. R. Pufnstuf.

 He smirked. “Easiest question I ever had to answer, my name’s Edward Anthony Cullen.” He said. “My research tells me that you left something out there.” I said. “Well, this ismy name, forget your research.” He snapped. “I didn’t mean to step on your toes.” I assured him quickly before turning to the next question. “Date of birth?” I asked. “20th August.” He said.

:headdesk:

Referring back to Chapter 3 or 4 again, the news program only gave out Munchkin’s initals – never his full name. AbR had to hack into his personnel file to find out his name is “Edaward” Anthony Cullen. The fact that she was able to find out his full name through her “research” should make Munchkin question her methods, but he just seems irritated.

“Why did you become a FBI-Agent?” I asked. “Because I want to help people; save lives and respect the law of course.” He said.

I always though people joined the FBI so they could investigate alien conspiracies.

 ”Hmmm, next question: What’s a thief for you?” I asked.

Wha?

 ”Come again.” He asked.

Yeah, what he said.

 ”Well, a thief. What is a thief for you?” I asked.

I’m going out on a limb here, but I believe a thief is someone who takes something that does not belong to them. It’s a pretty simple question, actually – even if it is very oddly worded.

 ”Do you see the criminal or the person behind it?” I ask.

I’m going to assume that the author meant “crime” and not “criminal” because otherwise the question doesn’t make any sense; a criminal is the person behind a crime, that’s the very definition of the word. It’s also not really what she asked the first time, but let’s see what Munchkin says. I’m guessing it won’t be a moving diatribe on modern criminal rehabilitation methods.

 ”Criminal. You don’t have to be a thief.” He explained.

Okay, I guess she did mean “criminal”. I’m not really surprised, just disappointed.

I could bring up the old “If you steal a loaf of bread to feed a starving child, is it still a crime?” argument since AbR claimed that the only reason she started stealing was because Uncle The Prof was such a terrible caregiver, but at this point she’s gone beyond a steal-or-starve situation and is nothing more than a hired gun.

 ”True, hmm. What would be the biggest achievement for you?” I asked. “Being able to help people in need.” He said.

That’s a noble sentiment, Munchkin, but you would have been better off joining the Red Cross or the National Guard if that’s the whole reason you became an agent.

 ”Why are you after ‘the burning Rose thief’?” I asked.

He looked perplexed for a second before answering. “It’s a thief, someone who breaks the law that I took an oath to protect.” He answered.

:sirens blare:

 

Crap! Lyle will kill me if I get any stains on the new carpet. We had to replace the last one; it smelled like a pine tree had thrown up on it.

 

:slides box of chocolate-glazed doughnuts into the hall and puts a chair against the door:

 

That should hold them for a bit.

 

Technically Munchkin would have taken an oath to “support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic;” unless AbR has committed treason or trampled upon someone’s civil rights, the laws covered in that particular oath don’t really apply here. The FBI’s current jurisdiction is much broader than the oath of service suggests, but it has remained fundamentally unchanged over the years.

 ”No, I didn’t mean it like that. In the news they said that you especially requested to have the case of ‘The burning Rose’ handed over to you. Why is that? And why ‘the burning Rose-thief’?” I asked.

See, even AbR remembers that he asked for the case and she barely has enough brain cells to maintain her autonomic responses! I think the more important question would be; why did they actually assign him to the case rather than sending him out to get coffee for everyone?

 ”You’re pretty observant.” He said. “That does not answer my question, Agent Cullen, but thank you.” I retorted.

Yes, yes, we know; she is awesomeness personified. Now answer the question!

 ”Well, I requested this case because I know this thief.” He said.

“And she’s right in front of me!” :slaps cuffs on AbR:

And that’s the end, folks!

:BZZZT!:

Dammit, Lyle! Can’t you let me have my fantasies?

“Okay, ähm, hmm….. Next question: Are you single?” I asked, at a short for questions, now that I had some answers.

:brain screeches to a halt:

Whoa, whoa, whoa … Back the hell up for a second; he tells you that he know the burning-rose thief (A.K.A. you) even though he doesn’t know what sex said thief is, and you immediately segue into a question about his relationship status rather than finding out how he knows you because you ran out of questions?

:THWACK!:

You fail everything in the history of forever.

 ”What?” This time he actually choked on his wine.

Dude, you took the word (and gag reflex) right out of my mouth.

 ”Well, it’s a question.” I defended myself.

Technically it is. :pastes gold star to AbR’s forehead: Congratulations on recognizing an interrogative sentence!

 ”Uhm, let’s see… I’m chasing a thief nobody has ever seen a glimpse of.

Wrong! At least one person that the audience knows of has seen AbR, that security guard/police officer/possibly Munchkin who screamed at her from the rooftop of the bank/museum. She took a few precautions to conceal her identity but she did purposely wait until someone ran up to her before she jumped off the roof, so she has probably done that sort of thing before.

 I’m trying to find clues day and night, and simply the answer is yes I am single.

Next time, just go with that last bit instead of all that other useless nonsense.

 Why’d you ask, you interested?” He asked with a laugh.

Not everyone who is curious about your relationship status is trying to get into your pants, Munchkin. She might just be making casual conversation in the middle of her fake interview.

 ”I’m nineteen years old.” I reminded him. “Yeah, that’s right….” He said.

And that means … what, exactly? That she’s legally an adult and (allegedly) only two or seven years younger than Munchkin? Reminding him of her age doesn’t really answer the question; it could be interpreted as anything from ”Hell, yes; I’m a horny teenager!’ to “Eww, boys are yucky!” or something in-between.

 ”You never told me who the roses were from?” He inquired.

Right, the roses you found when you were illegally searching her bag while she was in the plane’s bathroom. Let’s bring those up now, I bet it wouldn’t be awkward at all.

“They were a present to someone.” I answered. “Were they a present to someone or to yourself, Mary?” He asked.

:glances at dialogue:

Are you not paying attention to anything she says? Not that I blame you, Munchkin, but damn.

 ”Oh, you mean these?” I asked gesturing to the four roses in my hair.

No, the roses sticking out of your ass! What other roses could he possibly mean?

“I gave him a few roses less then originally intended.” I said, with a shrug. “So the mysterious person is a ‘he’” Agent Cullen said.

Sweet gummy Jeebus, Munchkin really is denser than a bride’s biscuit. She’s done everything but light herself on fire at this point.

Once we finished our food, I got out a notepad and quickly scribbled down every little piece of Information that I learned about the Agent sitting across from me, today.

:slides another box of doughnuts into the hall:

That’s the second time you’ve finished your food; exactly how many times were you planning on eating? And weren’t you already taking notes?

 ’The only question bugging me tough was that he knew me, or at least he said so, why?’

Finally! Now ask him how he knows you.

 We each took a strawberry ice cream after that.

:headdesk:

Or you can ignore the first halfway-interesting thing that has happened and just have dessert.

“Shall I escort you back to your hotel Mary?” He asked.

Oh, hell; here it comes.

:braces self:

 ”Nah, I know how to care for myself.” I said absentmindedly, looking through the scribbled down notes I’d taken only minutes ago.

:blink-blink: Did she just do what I think she did?

 ”Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you, Mary?” He asked. I only rolled my eyes at him.

And around the world, Team Edward fangirls weep while Ghostie rejoices at the thought of missing out on a poorly written lemon scene.

:plugs in blender:

Margaritas for everyone!

“The check please.” He told the waiter. “I’m paying for myself.” I declared. “No, I invited you, so that’s why I’m paying. ” He said. “I don’t take favors and in my book this would be a favor.”

Well, you very clearly do accept favors since you took the coffee he bought for you. Talk about mixed signals.

I said. “What do you say about we pay fifty-fifty?” He compromised. I nodded, watching him sneak my money back into my purse when he thought I wasn’t paying attention amusedly.

At least she wasn’t paying attention ironically, I don’t think I could stomach a hipster Mary Sue.

 ”Have a good night Agent Cullen, see you tomorrow. I’ll be at the temple round ten tomorrow.” I said. “Okay, I’ll pick you up at the entrance and show you your place.” He said, giving me a kiss on the cheek before quickly disappearing.

:opens door to hall:

Hello again, agents! Would any of you care for or desire a margarita with your doughnuts?

In to the SDQF with you, Munchkin! AbR has important crime-stuff to take care of. Who cares if no one knows if she means ten in the morning or ten at night? The moment she arrives will be the exactly perfect time to be there, because she a damned Mary Sue.

 I meanwhile dialed Godbole-bhais number from my throw-away-phone. ” Kal kaam hone ke baad apka hisa Blue-Resort Hotel ke samne wale ghar mein ek blue bag mein para hoga. Aap ke saath kam karke bada aacha laaga. ( Tomorrow, after the work is done your half of the money will be in the building across from the Blue-Resort Hotel, in a blue bag. It was a pleasure doing business with you)” I said.

What she really says is “Yesterday after work, your violence Blue – the home front of the hotel resorts in the Blue bag will transcultural. Was Aacha up with you down.”

Even if the author’s translation were correct, at no time does AbR tell Godbole anything that she learned from Munchkin – not one word of what she says is of any practical use to anyone. Previously in the chapter she told Godbole that she would return the next day to instruct the random hoodlums he was giving her, but a short time later she’s decided to just make do with this nonsensical phone call. How in the many flaky layers of hell can he help her pull this heist off if there is no damned plan?

Ah, right – the mystical Sue force. Never mind.

  “Thik hai. (Alright.)” The thief said before hanging up. I went back to my hotel room and started getting everything ready I would need tomorrow.

Fetch me some more limes while you’re at it.

Things start happening pretty fast after this, I’m tempted to cut off the riff here but since I don’t want to waste an extra week on this crap, I’ll soldier on.

The next day:

That’s probably the most helpful thing the author has written so far.

I took on my usual thief-outfit, (the one Alice designed for me) and put on a dress with roses in every color on over it.

By “usual thief-outfit” I’m going to assume the author means a black-and-white striped suit, bright orange tie, black cloak lined with yellow, black Amish-style hat, and domino mask. That must be a pretty fabulous dress to cover all of that up.

 I was going to miss this dress, but hey a thief had to make some sacrifices for the job, right?

What the hell is she going to do to the dress, set it on fire?

She is, isn’t she? Damn pyromaniac.

When I reached the temple the security easily let me pass.

That’s what happens when you contract your security from the Plot Convenience Corporation rather than a reputable firm that won’t allow someone to wander about the place like a yard-bird. And wasn’t Munchkin supposed to meet her in front of the temple?

 I went to my assigned position and almost jumped out of my skin when I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Gosh!” I exclaimed. “Agent Cullen! You scared me.” I said calming my beating heart down again.

“I’m not acting guilty or anything, I just … have a fear of being touched on the shoulder! Yeah, that sounds plausible.”

 ”Relax Mary, it’s just me. I was on my way to my position. I just wanted to see what you were doing and I forgot to give you this.” He said handing me a walkie-talkie. “Oh, thanks.” I said taking it from him. “You know how to use it?” He asked. “Of course I do, what kid didn’t have one of theses babies growing up?” I scoffed.

Not to rain on AbR’s scoffing parade, but I never had a pair of walkie-talkies when I was growing up. I have seen the radios used by law enforcement up close, though – those things are a touch more complicated than the sort of thing you’d let a child play with.

 ”Just call me if you see anything out of the ordinary.” Agent Cullen answered.

“Like if you find a coherent plot or a character acting in a realistic fashion, for example.”

 ”Yes Agent Cullen, now shoo.” I said waving my notebook at him. “I have observations to make.” I smiled.

And now we settle in for a long, boring stretch where AbR bides her time and waits for the security people to relax their guard a little, right?

Ha!

As soon as I was sure I was alone I scrambled out of my dress and let out a scream after waiting for another few minutes, turning the walkie-talkie on.

How could he hear her scream if she didn’t turn the walkie-talkie on until afterwards?

 I heard rustling on the other side, then Agent Cullen asking if I was alright.

Because perfectly fine women often scream for no apparent reason; it’s part of our whimsical charm.

Where is the rustling coming from – the other side of the wall, the other side of the door, the other side of the window? A direction would be super-helpful. Or is it ”the other side” as in “the room is haunted”? But a ghost would make things more interesting, so it can’t be that.

 I stayed silent,

They know you are in there, dumbass – who else would be screaming in a room with only one occupant? Ooh, unless there really is a ghost! I hope it’s my cousin ghostpanda.

 then I heard orders being given and left both, the dress and the notebook where they were, put a whole bucket of Roses into a vase before pouring gasoline over them and putting them on fire placing them next to the dress and notebook.

I get that AbR is trying to set up a little tableau, but the way she goes about it seems incredibly dangerous. There’s an excellent chance she would set the room, herself, or both on fire. And where exactly was she hiding a bucket of roses, a vase, and a container of gasoline?

 Then I jumped into the forests.

:headdesk:

I don’t even … :sigh: Let’s just move on, shall we?

The corrupt officers already waited for me and we took the fortune, splitting it into two even bags.

:headdesk:

The author devoted an entire chapter to the previous robbery and has been building up this temple heist over multiple chapters, yet it is over in a single sentence; hell, it doesn’t even take the entire sentence, just four words. Why the hell was there all that build-up if she was just going to do a grab-and-go?

I want everyone to remember that part right there where AbR says that the treasure is divided into “two even bags” – that will become important in the next chapter.

 I got out a little bit of the money out for myself from Godbole-bhai’s share before depositing the bag where I had been told to and running to the hotel.

And now she’s skimming from her gangster partner’s share. That seems like a bad idea.

 I quickly checked out of my room without the staff noticing and ran. I knew a pilot who’d fly me back home. But first I had to do something.

How did she manage to check out without seeing anyone? Why did she even bother going back to her hotel; she should be getting out of town as fast as possible.

I took the throw-away-phone one last time and dialed. After the second ring somebody picked up. “I just wanted to say welcome, welcome to the playgrounds, but this is my game and I’m a pro at what I do.” I said.

:headdesk:

You are not a pro at anything, you just stumble around like the world’s luckiest wino at the complete mercy of the Sue force!

I can think of a dozen things that had to line up perfectly for AbR to get away with this robbery that she had very little control over, starting with the random thief that she allowed to mug her; he just happened to work with a gangster who just happened to have heard of the American burning-rose thief and just happened to have corrupt cops on his payroll who just happened to be in the same precinct as the temple and they just happened to be assigned to the temple’s security force and working on the shift when AbR just happened to be arriving at the temple and just happened to be stationed near where the treasure was located and … Hell, it just goes on and on.

There are just so many things that she would have had to plan for that she would have had not been able to actually predict would happen, unless she’s some sort of psychic or has access to a time machine.

 ”You…you…ugh! You were Mary the whole time, am I right?” Agent Cullen asked.

Well, yeah – that’s the name she gave you so she was Mary the entire time you knew her. I don’t see where you’re going with this.

 I only laughed. “You are getting careless Rose, presenting yourself to me just like that….” He laughed.

She’s getting careless? You’re the jackass who practically handed over the very valuables you were supposed to be guarding. If you’re lucky you’ll just get fired; if the director is in a whimsical mood you’ll end up investigating militia groups in Bumfuck, North Dakota.

 ”You have absolutely no right to call me Rose, Agent Cullen. I am ‘The-burning-Rose-Thief’ for you as well as for everyone else.

Why is she so hung up on the name all of a sudden? She signed her notes “A burning Rose” rather than The-burning-Rose-Thief, so shouldn’t she be telling him to call her that? I’m so confused.

 It’s not like I call you Edward, is it? By the way I think your name’s cute Edward Michael Anthony Cullen, its quiet a mouthful don’t you think? But, hey to each it’s own, right?” I said.

… Oh-kay, that was a weird detour. I have no idea why the author included this fragment of information, since it has absolutely nothing to do with anything and has no basis in canon. According to the Twilight wiki, Edward’s real name is Edward Anthony Masen, Jr; he kept his first and middle names and dropped the rest when he became a sparklepire.

 ”Did you find my note?” I asked him casually. “What note?” He asked. “In the freaking notebook, that’s kind of the whole point of me leaving it there for you to find.” I said.

I thought the point was to indulge in your pyromaniacal tendacies.

 I heard rustling. ‘Never trust a woman again, Agent C. P.S I’m going to be your first unsolved case, one for the history books, eh? ;)’

:headdesk:

Dear gods, not a winking emoticon.

:THWACK!:

Bad author!

 ”You’re not.

Gasp! The author used the correct homophone! :faints:

 I will catch you someday, Rose I want it back.” He said. “What?” I asked while getting on the plane.

Yeah, what the hell are you talking about? Also, unless you want to be arrested when you land, you should probably get rid of your throwaway phone before you board the plane.

“What you stole from my house all those years ago.” He answered.

Some specifics would be nice, AbR has had a long history of stealing valuable shit.

 ”Specify please.” I said. ”It was a silver comb.” Agent Cullen answered.

That still doesn’t narrow things down much.

 ”When did I do this theft?” I asked. “I was thirteen years old at that time, it was my mother’s comb, she died a few years after.” He explained.

How is she supposed to remember some small item she stole over eight or thirteen years (depending on which age he really is) ago? It’s not like she keeps a database itemizing every single little thing she’s taken over the years and tracks the location of every item even after she sells it; not only would that take a lot of time and effort, but it would be incredibly incriminating if anyone found her records.

 ”I’ll see what I can do.” I answered, trying to remember when I stole this comb… When and whydid I steal a comb?

See, silver is what we humans called a “precious metal” which means it’s sort of valuable and can be traded for things like money and other non-comb items. I really would expect a thief to know about stuff like this.

 I hung up on Agent Cullen and threw the phone in the nearest trashcan. I called Jack using my blackberry. “Hello my sweet, you finished your holiday?” He asked. “As a matter of fact, Jack. I just finished the easiest heist ever.

All hail the mystical Sue force!

AbR’s “holiday” has lasted less than three days and the bulk of that time was spent either sleeping, flying on a plane, or having dinner with Munchkin. Not much of a holiday, in my opinion.

 But I called to ask you about something. Do you remember a robbery I did round ten years ago.

Wait, ten years ago? :counts on fingers: That would make Munchkin twenty-three, not the previously stated twenty-six or even the more recent twenty-one. There’s a whole lotta timesquiggling going on here.

 I stole a silver comb. Do you know where that comb is now?” I asked.

When did the mysterious Jack get a downgrade from friend and confidant to valuable-shit-tracker? And why is she bothering him with this now? It’s not like he’s going to remember one specific item from however-many-years ago.

 ”Yes, I sold it to Pete Phantom who gave it to Rosie Marquessa and she…ähm, right….I’ll look for it okay, Rose, why?” Jack asked.

:headdesk:

 ”I need it back.” I answered. “No problem Rose, when are you coming back?” He asked. “Tonight.” I answered. “When do you need the comb?” He asked. “In one day.” I answered. “No problem.” Jack answered. He hung up and I went to sleep.

It’s going to take her the better part of a day just to get there; it’s a twenty-plus hour flight even in a large plane and if AbR’s mystery friend has a small private plane it would take much longer since it would be slower and have to stop for fuel more often.

When the plane shook earth-shatteringly I knew I had landed and I silently got my bag, jumping from the plane unseen as soon as it stopped.

Firstly, if a plane shakes that much then it hasn’t landed – it has crashed. Have fun sliding down the inflatable ramp! Secondly,  how can someone exit a plane with no one seeing them? A plane is a metal can with one door! It’s not like AbR can crawl out the window when no one is looking. And what is with the ninja routine all of a sudden? Don’t tell me AbR has developed a sudden case of the shys.

I for one am royally pissed off; the author spent two mind-numbingly boring chapters on the flight to India, but the flight home can be covered in a couple of sentences? What the hell?

 I quickly made my way home, collapsing on my bed as soon as I reached it. I woke hours later to a constant ringing.

She just spent twenty-five to thirty hours sleeping on a plane and she’s still tired? Girl must have an iron deficency or something to go along with that tinnitus she has suddenly developed.

 I picked up the phone. “hello?” I aked sleepily. “Izz!” Alice screamed. “Yeah, what happened?” I asked. “You’re back.” She exclaimed.

That would be a pretty safe assumption if she’s answering her home land-line, but since there’s no indication as to what kind of phone AbR picked up Michelle/Alice must just be a really good guesser.

 ”Alice, I don’t have time for this.” I groaned. “Okay, I’m coming over later today.” I only groaned in response. Soon I was sleeping again

Oh, goody – I can hardly wait. I predict more costume porn in my future.

AN: I do not own Twilight or the Characters.

The author waits until the end of the seventh chapter before she posts the customary disclaimer. At this point, it almost makes sense.

I’m just playing around. Don’t forget to REVIEW and tell me what you think about the robbery.

It was very short and made no damned sense, but at least it was short.

:sirens blare:

Here, my androgynous new friends; let me top off those drinks with more margaritas, gentlemen and/or ladies.

Any questions? I’m happy to answer.- Keisha

Yes, can you tell me where I put the rest of the tequila? All I can find is this empty bottle. These DRD agents can drink like fish.

Keen observers will note that the sluggish pacing picked up considerably after the dinner with Munchkin, I have a feeling this fic was built around that particular scene. Everything that happens afterwards, including the next chapter, has a very uneven post-shark-jump feeling to it.

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