Chapter Text
Morgan had noticed lately, to his dissatisfaction, that all of his heists had been going according to plan. That wasn't to say he wanted to fail, but what was the point in a clever well thought out scheme with no unforeseen obstacles. He almost felt like he could waltz into a bank and take the money without even finding out the security codes! It was insanity and it was driving him up the wall.
For example, last week he and his crew were set up for a big one: Stealing a Museum T-Rex. It wasn't the actual skeleton or anything, too heavy and delicate for Morgan’s taste, but they did have a masterful “life size” replica of the beast by the entrance to the exhibits.
The plan was simple: He and two of his guys would go and apply for jobs at the museum as tour guides, learn their shifts for a few days and get familiar with the camera system and regular security guard shifts. Then, they'd become popular coworkers by bringing everyone coffee and snacks throughout the day. Simple. Finally on the decided night, they'd slip a sleeping medication into the gift coffees and BOOM Vinny (a recent hire) could bring the flatbed to the museums back garage and they'd open the doors from the inside, allowing for the rest of the gang to come in and knock the big fella off its stand for take out dinosaur.
Except it all went perfectly. When they brought the coffees even Marge the cranky receptionist wanted a cup, and she never said yes. It was unusual. They grabbed the T-Rex and were out the door in record time, and though Morgan heard sirens heading their way, they'd suddenly die off or fade away. There weren't any cops or heros to be seen.
All in all it was strange and he had spent the ride back to the base annoyed at his unnatural good luck. The T-Rex was cool, but what success tastes sweet without the risk of certain doom?
It was now well past midnight and Morgan was back at home sweet home, a fairly large apartment in the complex he owned (and charged unreasonable rent for naturally….except for the woman on the first floor she was really in a bind and he was evil, but not a monster). He sat in the kitchen with a mug of hot chocolate pondering how he could stop this blessed curse he seemed to be under, when he turned around.
Morgan had a specific order to things, albeit unconventional, but what was haphazard to some was perfectly in order to others and something was definitely not in order. The magazine on the end of the coffee table, the one he’d look at to make fun of his stupid brother and his stupid guest appearance on “Hero’s Vogue” (that involved a lot of motivational quotes and unnecessary spandex clad photography) was gone.
Sure sometimes he misplaced a pen or a book about world history but that magazine? No no. It had a home on that coffee table. Something was wrong…definitely…but also nothing screamed of danger. He couldn't feel a hostile presence and there wasn't anything else stolen from his home, so what was it? Standing up to investigate and potentially hire a freelance medium incase of a haunting situation, Morgan began to creep over to the couch.
As he approached, ready to trade blows with whatever was joshin his vibe, material or astral, he noticed a flap from underneath the couch. Morgan stood up, picked up the Hero’s Vogue that had fallen underneath the furniture and sat down, chuckling at a particularly funny photo of Chad holding a gaudy bottle of a men's cologne. There was nothing going on. No rival, no hero to fend off and even better, no Chad. Morgan knew he had a wild imagination. It was how he schemed, it must have been a coincidence.
Plus, maybe his unfortunate good luck would take a turn for the worse next week and the boys could finally enjoy a thrill for once. He flipped to the next page and had to suppress a not very cool giggle at the contents.
Meanwhile, very nearby and very much aware of the hole they had dug themselves into, Alex was screwed.