A shrill scream tore through the night as the Barnes Foundation blazed to life.

That isn't the signal. Do I go? Do I wait on them? Jack's hand stalled on the ignition, not sure if she should make a break for it or wait for the signal. Every second pushed against her, insisting she cut her losses and get the hell out of dodge before the cops showed up.

Should I call Mongoose? Mongoose would know more about what was going on inside, and if Jack should flee before things got too serious. Slowly, her hand wandered back to the wheel, still not sure if this was the right move or not. Her finger punched the call button, and the hollow tone of the phone dialing momentarily blocked out the sounds of the alarms.

Jack took a deep breath and willed for something to happen, whether it was the boys return or that their boss picked up the phone.

The call was picked up, but Jack heard nothing for a moment, then:

"Jack, if you're not currently in danger, can you hold on for a s- not that way!" Mongoose's voice cracked out like a whip, her stress palpable. "That isn't an exit!"

One…two…th-ree… Jack decided, then and there, that she'd give the boys until the count of five before she considered her escape. The engine roared to life just as a massive shadow slammed through a window in a shower of glass, barreling out to the car with something tucked in his arms, a smaller shadow on his tail.

There was a brief struggle at the door, and Jack fought down the urge to scream at them. The painting was massive, the door was small, and the gap of time between them and orange jumpsuits was smaller.

Finally, after what felt like Jack's entire life, the two men managed to wrestle the painting into the car and swung in after it. "Go go go!" Shouted the larger of the two, pointing forward like he hoped that would hasten their escape.

Jack, needing no further encouragement, stomped on the gas and shifted gears automatically; the squeal of tires fusing with the plaintive wail of the sirens.

The car was eerily silent once the door slammed, as if shutting the doors also shut up Jack's co-conspirators. Mongoose still hadn't said anything after her initial outburst, and Jack quickly checked to make sure she hadn't hung up.

Just as she was about to ask, and see if the woman on the other end of the phone was okay, herself, Jack's question was answered.

"What in God's green earth was that?" The call finally crackled back to life, each of Mongoose's words carefully measured and even. It sounded more like a polite question than a demand, and honestly Jack would have been more comfortable if their boss had decided screaming at them was the better option.

"That was the alarm for the Barnes Foundation," Neither sensing nor caring about the danger in the air, Cobra's response was breezy as he hastily gestured for Croc to swap the painting with a small statue. "Loud ones, too, those ones." Cobra studied his souvenir lazily, a small frown creasing his forehead.

"You mean the alarms that went off after you touched the thing I told you not to touch?" The woman on the phone still sounded less than impressed with Cobra's prize, and it didn't really feel like a question.

There was a small pause, in which Jack's teammate glanced expectantly at the car's screen.

"I just don't see what the big deal is, we're already st-" Cobra's attempt at bargaining was quickly cut off by Mongoose's guidance, Jack tuning back in at, "There's a visitor center a few miles down 95, and a car waiting for you guys. Swap the car, burn this one out, and keep moving."

Now on the highway, Jack pushed the car even harder. "Burn this one? Can't we just abandon it? Giving them the slip in a new car should be enough, yeah?"

Another voice, this one very familiar, spoke up then. Mockingbird. Jack hadn't been aware the two women had been in the same room. "Jack, they could pick up skin traces or hairs from that car in a moment, fingerprints even. Better to torch the evidence. We've managed to keep this thing under the radar this long, we can't give them an opening." It logically made sense, but they'd been through so much with this car, it felt wrong. An entire heist with it made it borderline family, and you didn't just torch family when it became inconvenient.

"I know it's the smart thing to do, but isn't this kind of wasteful? I mean, the car-"

"-isn't ours. It doesn't matter, it's not our money. What is wasteful, however, is pulling this whole heist off, getting the Card Players, and getting thrown in jail." Mongoose cut her off swiftly, the edge in her tone implying she wasn't up for further ad-libbing when it came to their plans. "Break off a piece of it, or take the license plate or something, if you're so attached to it."

Jack nodded to nothing, her ears burning at the last comment, and she zeroed back in on the drive.

No police cars had been spotted yet, but it was only a matter of time before they were going to be followed. Did they make it out in time? Did the cameras catch them? Could they actually slip through the cracks while stealing a priceless painting?

Just as she was thinking this through, the whining peal of a siren sliced its way through her laser focus, and the car wobbled dangerously on the road like it had been caught off guard too.

"Hey…uh…Jack?" Croc repeatedly tapped on her shoulder, frantically looking back behind them.

Jack was going to break Croc's hand if he tapped her on the shoulder again while she was driving, and she pushed the car harder in response.

"Yeah, Croc, I know. I'm dealing with it!" The car snarled alongside Jack as it swung abruptly down a narrower street, and the clear roads turned into a claustrophobic maze of tightening sideroads and alleyways. "Dammit! Hey Mongoose? We've got a change of plans, the rest stop's out of the picture now!" She needed to lose these guys, and fast, because she was running out of places to hide and room to maneuver. The constricting path led to freedom, however, and the gang of thieves roared out onto the open expanse of a harbor. They had bought some time, but not a lot, and she wasn't sure how they could handle this neatly.

"Now what? We can't go back." Jack hated to be the pessimist here, but they couldn't drive back the way they came. Those were narrow streets, and they'd surely run into the cops if they tried that. "The law's gonna be here any minute, and obviously I can't drive on water, and…uh…guys?"

The redhead glanced over at her accomplices, unnerved by the sudden quiet. Upon further inspection, something seemed to have transpired wordlessly between Cobra and Crocodile, and Jack felt like she'd missed it.

"Grab your license plate, Jack." Croc scrunched his way out of the car, the door left open behind him as he strode to the trunk. Cobra, in the meantime, removed the painting and the statue, his expression almost gleeful as Croc…handed him a sheet of plastic and a roll of tape.

Jack had seen them pack these things in the trunk before the heist had begun, and a cold inkling of understanding scampered down her spine as she realized what was meant to happen next. Three canisters of lighter fluid followed the plastic and tape.

"Grab it quick, kid, this car's about to be gone." Cobra deftly swaddled the painting, then took a swift walk to the pier and shimmied along the side of it, holding the painting between his body and the pylon.

Jack tumbled out of the car, the night going from a cut and dry heist to an absurd fever dream. She took her knife from her belt and used it to pry the license plate from the back, and watched as Croc dumped the fuel inside the car and on the ground all over the docks.

"Alright, now back up, get into the water and under the pier." Croc seemed to be aware of her plight. His instructions were gentler, like he was aware of the weird turn the night had taken. As far as Jack could tell, he was totally at ease with the situation, like this had happened before.

Once she was in the water, Croc struck a match, threw it into the car, then struck another match and threw it onto the ground into the puddle of fuel, and launched himself behind her, out of the reach of the massive inferno that roared to life behind him.

"That ought to throw them. It's not like they can sniff us out. Not with all that mess going on. They have bigger problems than us." Cobra had busied himself now with taping the painting to the bottom of the dock, now swaddled in layer upon layer of plastic sheeting and a stray bit of canvas that Jack couldn't confirm had come from the dock or his pocket.

"Sniff us out? They couldn't possibly, right? They wouldn't bring dogs out here to try, it's on fire." Suddenly concerned for the welfare of the local K9 unit, Jack looked to both of her co-conspirators. "The dogs can't sniff through fire, their noses would get burnt."

"I doubt they would, Jack, it's fine. I'm sure they judge these kinds of risks before they bring the dogs out." Croc patted her arm, before he gestured to the blaze behind them again. "The dogs couldn't pick anything up from this anyway, so I made sure to soak the ground around the car too. Its like Cobra said. They're going to be too busy sorting out that problem to worry about us."

Meanwhile, the encroaching sound of sirens got too loud for comfort far too quickly, and Jack wasn't sure what to do next. "Hey, guys? The painting's hidden, and the dogs can't sniff us out, but what's keeping them from just…looking under the dock?"

Crocodile startled at this question, and his gaze turned to Cobra, who had begun to fuss with a plastic zipper bag. He stuffed his phone inside after a lightning fast text, before he reached his hand out to them. "You tell me. Would you look under a wet, smelly dock to find a priceless painting?" He pointed out. "As for us," The wiry young man looked outright deranged, clutching onto one of the pylons holding up the dock like a koala. "Throw me your phones. Don't want them getting wet, right?"

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No one moved for a moment, and Cobra sighed, an impatient noise as if he were having to explain something to a child. "The cops are nearly here. Just humor me."

This seemed to break Croc out of the spell, the plea to trust him actually working, and the big man carefully handed him his phone. Cobra put it in the plastic bag, before he looked expectantly at Jack.

Croc had agreed to do it, so he clearly understood what was going on here and decided it was safe. So Jack tossed over her phone too, her eyes glued on them for the next move. Just as he did, the background sounds of the sirens reached a fever pitch, cutting through the air into Jack's ears.

They were fresh out of time.

"We're taking a long walk off a short pier."

Then, with no further context or fanfare, which Jack personally found to be the odd part of this conversation, Cobra unwrapped his other arm and legs from around the post, and fell into the ocean with a shockingly small splash.

Crocodile shrugged, and his ability to appear unphased by whatever Cobra said was admirable to Jack. "Better than going down with the ship, I guess. I hate the ocean, though." Her teammate made a face, then scaled more carefully down into the water from where he'd been perched on a partially submerged shipping container.

Voices could be heard now, gruff shouts over the sounds of the fire and police sirens. Jack took a deep breath and clambered awkwardly down from where the support posts intersected, slipping into the frigid water.

Instantly, silence filled her ears and salt stung her eyes. She wasn't sure if this was better or worse when it came to their current situation. She was hidden, and the boys were also hidden, and the cops would be more occupied with reducing damage on the docks and looking for clues on dry land than they would combing the waters. But this new condition also severely limited her knowledge on what was going on.

Her lungs felt like they were going to burst before she finally felt a hand grab hers. By this point, it could be an officer and she would have still followed her new guide. She just wanted to be able to breathe again.

Bright spots had begun to dance along the edge of her eyes before she was pulled up to the surface. Jack worked to clear her vision, having to blink and rub her eyes furiously.

"It's me, relax. As quietly as possible, catch your breath. We're going under again and trying to get further down the bay." The voice was Croc's, and as the salt water cleared from her vision, she saw his massive form hunched down in the shadows alongside a boat docked nearby. He made a quick motion, like he was coaching her to breathe, before he submerged himself again.

Following suit, Jack took a deep breath, closing her eyes this time, and sunk beneath the water again, moving in the same direction she'd seen him move.

Thankfully, the next time she emerged, she saw the guys making their way towards the shore, and she gratefully followed their example, her arms, legs, and chest burning.

On solid land, it took Cobra half a second to wring out his sleeves and clap his hands together.

"Now that's what I call a plan coming together!"

Jack wasn't sure she'd call it that. The entire plan had given the impression of not being a plan, in fact. But they had gotten out of art theft with their lives, their freedom, and the loot intact, so…?

She hadn't been with the team very long, and the roles and connections between the team were still a mystery to her. And moments like this didn't help. Cobra struck her as a Darwin Award winner at every turn, but situations like this, so far, had always turned in his favor, with nothing more than a wild plan, a playful smile, and what she could only describe as a cheerful, far too British understatement of the matter at hand.

Jack hadn't even been aware that she'd been staring at the thief until a quick cough took her out of her thoughts.

"You okay, kid?" Croc put his hand on Jack's shoulder, and she smiled up at him, stalling for a moment to figure out if she was.

After a moment's contemplation, she smiled and nodded. Now that the police were a distant problem, and she had her souvenir tag, everything was fine. Her heart pounded like a drum in her chest, and she'd never felt so alive.

Even Cobra didn't feel so stupid anymore.

"Hey Goose! We need a ride, please!" The snake in question practically sang the request into the phone, still on cloud nine. Jack wasn't sure if he noticed her confusion, or if this was a ploy to avoid the lecture she thought she heard over the phone, but he gave her some context: "They're camped out around here somewhere, watching out for us. Mock knows this area better than we do, anyway, and we don't really have a car to drive." Was it worth it to tell him they would have one if they hadn't jumped immediately to arson? Nah. "So I asked Mongoose if she could send her to pick us up."

Oh. Well that actually made sense, and Jack wasn't really prepared for that.

-- x --

The three tried their best to dry off as discreetly as they could before they found somewhere to lay low. Considering it was November, Jack would have rather just bundled herself up in the tarps that lay scattered on the docks and called it a night. But apparently, that would be "suspicious", and "attract more attention". Sound logic, but it still sucked.

"I'm not guessing you'll be able to pull three pairs of dry clothes from your back pocket, would you?" Croc seemed to agree with her there, and Cobra shook his head and raised his hands.

"Sorry, best I got is a soggy handkerchief at this point, mates." He waved the admittedly sodden piece of cloth like a victory flag.

"So how are we going to write off being soaked to the bone in the middle of November?" The line of questioning continued, with Jack this time asking the questions, and Cobra still looked nonplussed as he quipped back, "Workplace incident, I suppose. This is usually a feature, not an accident."

"Cobra." The rebuke shot out of her mouth before she even realized that scolding her superior might have ended badly for her. Her face burned as she cleared her throat and tried again, a snort of laughter coming from Croc, behind her. "I'm sorry, I meant "what are we going to tell someone if they stop us and ask why we're absolutely drenched" because not everyone is going to assume there was a freak shower that got nowhere else wet."

"Drunk, maybe? If anyone talks to Cobra they're gonna think he is anyway." Croc input, trying to be helpful now that Cobra had gotten his piece in. "We've been out drinking, and accidentally took a swim into the harbor." This option, even though it had a couple of holes in it, was the best they had. Jack couldn't think of anything logical, and for once, Cobra didn't have anything to add to the idea. So drunk they'd be, if they were pulled to the side before they dried off enough.

"But should we try to get dry clothes before Mock picks us up? I'd hate to get her seats wet." They were soaked, and Jack didn't want to cause that sort of damage to her friend's car.

"I wouldn't worry about it. She'll get here too quickly, and we don't want her to have to hunt us down to pick us up." Cobra leaned against the building, crossing his arms in front of him. "Besides, walking into a shop soaking wet just creates more questions than walking down the road wet. More people."

That was all fine and well, but the adrenaline high was standing to wind down from the thrill of the chase, and she was left in the middle of this cold city, soggy, cold, and honestly smelling like a sewer and a saltwater aquarium had a baby. "Can we at least find somewhere out of the wind to wait? We're going to freeze to death out here."

"That's a bit dramatic. It's just 38 degrees out." Croc took his turn sounding like a lunatic, shrugging and trying to wring some more water from his jacket. "We're wet, that sucks, but it's not that cold out here."

"Not everyone can say that "slightly above freezing" is comfortable, Doc." Cobra was apparently on Jack's side this time, pulling his own jacket closer to him in a poor attempt at containing body heat.

"I figured you wouldn't have that much of a problem with this kind of weather. Aren't you from the pea soup fog and constant rain capital of the world?"

Before Cobra could reject or accept this accusation, a car slowed to a crawl next to them, the window rolling down to reveal a wisp of a woman with blonde hair and green eyes. She immediately made a sour face, cutting her wave short. "God, you three smell like a sewer that hid somewhere and died."

"Someone decided that taking a swim was the best way out of this whole thing." Jack felt like Mock, her ever-sensible gal pal in this group, the mature voice of reason in most group discussions, would side with her.

"Well, we're here, aren't we? Alive? Free?" Cobra defended, moving towards Mock's car. "Shotgun."

"He's right, sometimes the gross option is…regrettably the best one." At Mock's betrayal and Cobra's claim, Jack groaned and slid into the back seat behind him. "The cops aren't really trained to deal with art thieves. They're cops. And they aren't really paid enough to slosh through the harbor to find you." Once Croc got in and closed the door, Mock turned the heat up in the car and put it into drive. "You smell like hot garbage, but the job's done, and that's really all that needs to be said at the end of the day."

"What about the painting? It's still under the dock. Don't we need to-"

"Mongoose is probably scoping out the scene to see when she can pick it up, don't worry." Cobra's guess was confirmed by a nod from Mock, who added, "She was on her way to the docks shortly before you guys took your swim. She'll slip in and grab it."

"So she's going to stake it out until the cops are gone? Or just until they don't notice her jumping out into the ocean to grab a package from under the dock?"

"She'll be able to slip through, she has her ways." Cobra shrugged, rummaging through Mock's glovebox while he spoke. If this was unusual, the team's medic didn't say anything about it, and the dark haired man gave up fairly quickly. "She'll give a ring if she needs help."

Jack nodded, leaning back in the seat as this information washed over her. It was over, and not in the "we were escorted to jail in handcuffs and jumpsuits" way. This was an actual success, and she had finished her first heist successfully. Maybe she shouldn't have doubted their victory, these guys had apparently been doing this for ages. But it didn't stop the nagging fear that she'd mess it up for everyone. It's not like she'd been trained, and it wasn't like the whole thing had gone according to plan either.

But the Card Players was theirs, for whatever reason they wanted it for. No one in the car seemed particularly concerned about Mongoose slipping up retrieving it, so she was sure it was fine.

Mock and Croc had started discussing the recent hockey game, and Cobra had gone back to his phone, sprawled across the front seat with his foot on the dash and biting back a smirk. It was such an absurd turn in mood for the night that Jack wanted to laugh.

"Aren't you worried about getting in trouble for earlier?" Jack muttered to Cobra. The older man looked up from his phone, staring blankly at Jack. "The statue?" This seemed to jog his memory, and Cobra grinned, untroubled.

"I've got it handled, hold on." In a louder voice, he added, "Hey Birdie, can we get McDonalds?"

"Can you get your feet off the dash? It's not a rental, y'know." Mock scolded, not actually denying the request, and Cobra actually sat up to obey, his expression hopeful.

Jack's phone buzzed in her pocket, then, and she pulled it out. The screen was bright in the darkness of the car, and she scrunched her eyes as she read the name and message on the screen.

One Missed Call

The young woman rolled her eyes, silenced her phone, and stuffed it back into her pocket.

As far as she was concerned, that situation could be dealt with later.

Much later, if she had any choice in the matter.