Chapter Text
Lexa stepped out of her recently washed Camry and narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing the building across the street. Faded brick and rusty hinges on the garage doors indicated the shop had clearly seen better days. A flickering neon sign hung crookedly above the main entrance announcing Kru Auto Repair.
Turning, she waited for her companion to emerge from the passenger’s side. The younger girl had a slanted smile that gave her the look of someone who was in the middle of concocting an elaborate prank. She raked a hand through her loose long brown hair and slammed the car door shut. Circling the vehicle, she fixed her sharp green eyes on Lexa.
“Here, Octavia?” Lexa asked, one eyebrow lifting. “Not a particularly subtle day job.”
“Reyes and subtle don’t usually mix,” Octavia said, shrugging.
“What other insights about her do you have?”
Octavia shuffled the four folders in her arms and flipped one open, reading, “Raven Reyes, 19 years old. Dad left when she was four and Mom developed a taste for moonshine and blackjack; went right through their savings. Grew up in Arkadia’s public housing projects. Sometime before high school she started boosting cars and ended up dropping out to join an auto theft ring. Got into an accident last year while stealing a Rolls Royce. Weirdly, the official police report claims that Reyes was faultless.”
“And how many laws did you break to get that info this time?” Lexa asked. Though she sounded stern, the corner of her mouth curled up in a barely suppressed smile. Normally she’d try to be a little more disapproving, but then again, purposefully recruiting delinquents was hardly normal for Lexa.
“Oh, you know how the police just leave stuff lying around,” Octavia said casually.
“Right.”
“Anyway, Reyes suffered nerve damage in her left leg and her accomplice ended up doing a stint in Juvie. She’s been laying low ever since.”
A particularly strong breeze blew past, carrying the stench of gasoline across the block. With a scrunched expression, Lexa asked, “You want to handle the sales pitch on this one?”
“Not, like, especially.”
“Brat,” Lexa sighed and headed for the front door of the repair shop, Octavia trailing close behind.
The shop was small and dingy with old heavy metal band posters covering the walls, as if in an attempt to hide the general state of disrepair. What Lexa suspected used to be a room divider barely held up, separating the front counter and the mechanical repair section. The sounds of a TV in the background were occasionally overpowered by some choice words being shouted out.
A man with messy dirty blonde hair and rough stubble worked the cash register impatiently, shaking the drawer loose. Without looking up he asked gruffly, “Got something you need fixing?”
“Looking for someone actually,” Lexa said.
At her voice, he looked up, eyes darting from Lexa to Octavia and then back again. A slow grin made its way across his lips as he took a longer look at them.
Lexa crossed her arms reflexively in response. There was a reason Lower Arkadia wasn’t her favorite place.
“And which lucky bastard are you looking for?” he asked, leaning forward with his elbows on the plastic counter.
“We’re here to see Raven,” Octavia said.
“I guess hot chicks do run in packs,” he said, lecherous smile still in place.
Octavia rolled her eyes and strolled past him, saying, “We can find her ourselves, thanks.”
“Name’s Kyle if you ever want to find me instead,” he said to her back.
“She’s 17,” Lexa said as she passed him. He raised both hands innocently. "And I could kick your ass to next Sunday without breaking a sweat.”
“Scary. I like that quality in my women,” he laughed.
Without missing a beat, Lexa snapped the flat of her hand into his neck with one fast, fluid motion. He stumbled backwards, completely off guard, and floundered a little, hands on his neck as he struggled to breathe for a few seconds.
“Good thing I’m not anybody’s woman.” She didn’t spare him another glance as she followed Octavia past some older models of junked cars.
“Reyes,” Octavia called out.
Two long couches surrounded a surprisingly nice television set. A few people sat around it watching and playing a video game on the screen. The character on the TV drove a sleek silver sports car around recklessly, occasionally leaning out to shoot at incoming police cars.
Of course this would be what a car thief found entertaining in their time off, Lexa thought and rolled her eyes.
A woman who couldn’t be too much younger than Lexa pivoted on the arm of the couch, ponytail swinging. A self-assured smirk slid into place.
“Blake,” the woman—Raven, Lexa assumed—said almost fondly. “What can I do you for?”
The other mechanics paused their game to observe the exchange with interest. This was probably the most exciting thing that would happen to them all day.
“You got anywhere more private we can talk?”
“Why, you gonna propose?” Raven teased but made to take them to one of the back garages anyway. As Raven stood, Lexa caught the glint of the metal brace around her lower left leg.
“Sure, I got a proposition of sorts for you,” Octavia said, matching her tone. Her comment was met with wolf-whistles and a few jeers from Raven’s coworkers.
Raven led the way with a slight limp. Occasionally, her eyes flickered to Lexa almost self-consciously. But her body language was brash—like she didn’t give a fuck and wanted Lexa to know it.
The back garage was dimly lit and contained a single red van, clearly a work-in-progress—promising, but incomplete all the same.
“My baby,” Raven said lovingly, tilting her head towards it.
“Pile of junk, did you say?” Octavia joked.
“Her name’s Lucille, thank you very much,” Raven scowled.
Entertained with the back and forth but unwilling to spend too much time on the niceties, Lexa extended a hand towards Raven and said, “Lexa Woods. We need a wheelman.”
“Well, that’s pretty direct,” Raven said, shooting an incredulous look over Lexa’s shoulder at Octavia as if asking her where the hell did you find this one? “Raven Reyes. I’m flattered and all, but I’m retired.”
“You can always come out of retirement,” Octavia said, very matter-of-fact.
Raven glanced away and tugged her red jacket tighter around herself. She said, “Sorry to make you come all the way out here, but I’m done with that stuff.”
Sensing that this was a matter ill-suited for a stranger’s ears, Lexa said, “Well, thanks for your time in any case.” There were some of Indra’s work files that Lexa could look over in the car.
Octavia stepped a little closer after Lexa had departed and said quietly, “Your skill and talent are wasted here, Raven. You and I and everyone in this building knows it.”
Raven stubbornly avoided her gaze and said, “All it ever got me was in trouble and crippled.”
“So instead you’re gonna waste your days fixing faulty windshield wipers and hanging with the goon squad?”
“I’m fine with it,” she said sharply. “I’m fine with all of it. I don’t need you to try and fix me.”
“So not the point, Reyes,” Octavia said. “This job we’re offering… it’s different. It’s not about the score. This guy, he hurt someone who means a lot to me, and he’s gonna get what’s coming to him with or without your help. But if it’s with your help, it could be a fun challenge.” She paused, lips pursing thoughtfully. “And it would mean a lot to me.”
Raven scoffed, “Well, when you put it like that.” Then she sighed, long and weary, “I’ll think about it, okay? That’s all I can promise.”
“Okay,” Octavia said softly. “That’s more than enough.”
///
“She in?” Lexa asked as Octavia slipped into the passenger seat.
“Probably,” Octavia said as she buckled her seatbelt. “She’s had a rough year, but she is still the best. And the best don’t get to rest.”
“That’s not an actual saying,” Lexa said.
“Sure it is. No rest for the best.”
“It’s ‘no rest for the wicked.’ Or even ‘no rest for the weary.’ What you said, is—”
“It sounded cool in my head, okay?” Octavia said. “Just drive.”
“No rest for the best,” Lexa repeated mockingly.
“Shut up.”
“Alright, we possibly found a wheelman,” Lexa said. “What’s next on our list?”
“We gotta get a hitter.”
“That means—“
“Yup,” Octavia said, dragging the word out. “Think she’ll go easy on us considering the circumstances?”
Lexa gave her a disbelieving look.
“Fuck.”
///
Dozens of parents and siblings sat in the stands waving and cheering on the players competing down on the baseball diamond. It gave Lexa a headache. The added summer heat did no wonders for her or the girls on the field who were sweating visibly from their hairlines down to their chins. And it was only the third inning.
She felt an extra twinge of pity as she caught sight of the batting team’s coach.
“Come on, hustle! Martine, if you miss this one you’ll be on clean-up duty for a month!”
Martine—a tiny waifish girl—stepped up to the plate with hard brown eyes and her mouth set in a tight line.
“On second thought,” Octavia said, “maybe Bellamy or Miller is free—“
“She’s not that bad,” Lexa said, though she too made no move to approach.
The opposing team’s pitcher dusted off the mound with her cleats and waited for the catcher’s signal. This slight delay prompted the coach to yell, “The mound isn’t meant to be clean. Hurry up! Not all of us have the luxury of extreme youth!”
“But I guess we could wait until the game is over,” Lexa acquiesced. “It’s only polite.”
“And her team is going to obliterate the other one, so she’ll be in a good mood?”
Lexa raised a hand and shielded her eyes from the sun, squinting at the scoreboard across the field.
“Absolute obliteration.”
///
Six innings and a shutout (11-0) later, Lexa and Octavia had run out of excuses to avoid the coach any longer. Hesitant and antsy respectively, they hung around the dugout while the game ending speech was given.
The coach had long, wavy brown hair with blonde highlights seamlessly mixed in; she stood tall and proud in her black tee and dirty, ripped jeans. As she addressed her team, the girls stood equally at attention, hanging onto every word she barked out.
“—Ontari? And Jaz, were you stumbling around right field for any reason other than looking for your lost dignity? Sloppy, guys. This was sloppy—“
She broke off, catching sight of Octavia and Lexa.
Turning back, she said, “But it wasn’t a complete failure. You guys batted the hell out of this game. All our practices and training sessions have really paid off.” She even allowed a closed smile, a small miracle by Octavia’s estimation. “Good job. Dismissed.”
As the girls broke out into conversation with one another, she stepped out of the dugout.
“Alexandria,” she said. “Octavia.”
“Anya.”
Anya lingered on Octavia, eyes locked on hers in a challenge. Then, lightning quick, Anya’s leg struck out, sweeping Lexa off her feet. Instinctively, Octavia retaliated before Anya could do the same to her. Outmatched, Octavia’s momentum was used against her. Anya pulled on Octavia’s outstretched arm and tossed her to the ground easily.
Having landed on her back, Lexa was momentarily stunned before gathering her wits and flipped herself upright. Octavia rolled back onto her feet, and the two of them threw a punch each at Anya.
Anya caught Octavia’s fist in her right hand, open palmed, and Lexa’s wrist in her left. For a tense moment, all three simply held their positions. Finally, Anya loosened her grip, allowing both women to return to a fighting stance.
“Not bad,” Anya said. “Lexa, you got careless. Octavia, you were overeager.”
They both nodded, accepting the criticism.
Grabbing a towel, Anya slung it over her shoulder and cracked open a bottle of water. After taking a long gulp, she asked, “What’s this about?”
“Indra’s in the hospital,” Octavia said stiffly. It was always best to get straight to the point with Anya.
Anya paused mid-sip.
///
Two days later Lexa called for a meeting between the team members at Anya’s spacious two-floor apartment. The open layout and Spartan design made it an ideal planning location and home base for this operation. Octavia had let herself in, bypassing Anya’s locks easily, and Lexa followed close behind. Busy in the kitchen, Anya made no move to apprehend their somewhat unorthodox entrance.
“Not much of a security system,” Octavia commented as she surveyed the foyer.
“I’m all the security I need,” Anya said. A delectable scent flooded the apartment as she opened the oven door carefully.
“Fair,” Lexa said.
Anya set a large tray down on the granite countertop, a neat array of fresh chocolate chip cookies lined on the pan. Unable to resist, Octavia reached out only for Anya to slap her hand away.
“Wait for our guest,” Anya said.
“I’m a guest too,” Octavia huffed.
“You’re technically a home invader,” Lexa said.
“Traitor,” Octavia said. “Whose side are you on, anyway?”
“The side that gets me Anya’s cookies. Obviously.”
The doorbell rang before Octavia could make a snappy retort. Lexa pulled the door ajar, gesturing for Raven to enter. Raven wore her dirty work clothes: a blue tank and tight black skinny jeans. Clearly, she’d came directly from the repair shop.
“Thanks,” Raven said. As she took a look around, she whistled, “Nice digs.”
“It is nice,” Anya said. “Wash your hands so it will stay nice.”
“Sheesh, okay, Mom,” Raven said, rinsing her grease-stained hands in the stainless steel sink. “Who are you, anyway?”
“She’s our hitter,” Octavia said and settled on a stool by the kitchen island.
“What, like the muscle?”
“Exactly like that,” Anya said, leaning over to squirt extra foamy soap into Raven’s hands.
“I can wash my hands myself,” Raven protested.
“Apparently not.”
“Okay, so we have a hitter. What kind of job needs a hitter?” Raven asked.
“This one,” Lexa said, gesturing to the flat screen TV at the far end of the living room. An image of a man with pale skin and combed back dark hair flickered onto the screen, smarminess oozing from every pixel. “We’re taking down Cage Wallace.”
“You’ll probably need a hacker too,” Anya said as she scooped the cookies off with a spatula and onto a clean sheet of wax paper. “And a grifter to be safe.”
Raven wiped her wet hands on a hand towel and said, “I know a hacker, he and I can handle the tech stuff.”
“A grifter,” Octavia wondered aloud. “What about Maya? She’s pretty good.”
“Studying abroad in Xi’an,” Lexa said. “Harper?”
“Probation.”
“There’s always Echo,” Anya said. Her expression was cautious, gauging Lexa’s reaction.
Lexa flinched but smoothed it over quickly, saying, “No, she’s Azgeda. She’s as likely to help us as she is to sell us out to Wallace.”
“Who else do we know?”
“Well,” Raven said slowly, “I do know someone. She’s hands down the best liar I’ve ever met… but we’ve never been on the greatest terms.”
“Call her,” Lexa said. “You don’t have to like her, you just have to be able to work amicably with her.”
“Hey, I know Octavia’s a klepto and the scary one is a hitter, but what exactly do you do? Boss us around?” Raven asked.
“I’m the one with the plan,” Lexa said.
“We all got plans.”
“Not like mine,” Lexa said with a confident smile.
“Right, sure, whatever you say,” Raven said dismissively. Still, she pulled out her phone and dialed. After a few rings, a crackle and a hello could be heard. “Hey. It’s me.” A brief pause. “I’ve got some people that want you for a job.”
///
After the cookies had sufficiently cooled, Anya served them on a blue ceramic plate on the living room coffee table. Each of the four women took out laptops and smartphones, working on various projects as they waited for their possible fifth team member to show up. Thirty minutes passed without so much as a word exchanged between them before the doorbell rang once again.
Octavia leapt up, mouth full of cookie, and answered the door. A young woman of medium height with blonde hair and keen blue eyes arrived in fashionable attire: a simple white blouse, black dress pants, and sleek heels.
“Clarke,” Raven said, easing her laptop lid down.
“I hear you need a grifter,” Clarke said, ignoring Raven’s greeting.
“No,” Lexa said. “We need the best grifter.”
“Sure,” Clarke said, eyes sweeping the room. Lexa could almost hear the cogs grinding in Clarke’s head as she analyzed the location and the four women. “What’s the pay like?”
“You’re Arkadian elite, aren’t you?” Anya asked and crossed her arms, eyeing Clarke critically. “Born into wealth. Probably an heiress of some sort?”
“Sure,” Clarke said with a chuckle. “I don’t like to advertise it too much though.”
“Well, Princess,” Octavia said, “if you’ve got money already, why do you care about the pay?”
“Capitalism,” Clarke shrugged, circling the kitchen. One hand dragged lazily over the cabinets. Anya narrowed her eyes, displeased. “Labor is generally exchanged for currency. Preferably paper, just so you know.”
“Lying isn’t really labor, now is it?” Octavia sneered.
“For people who supposedly need me, you’re a hostile bunch.”
“It’s not a monetary payoff for Octavia and me,” Lexa said. “But I can assure you that everyone else will be given ample remuneration.”
“Rem- Remuneration?” Raven mouthed to Octavia.
Clarke’s attention snapped to Lexa, as if only fully realizing her presence now.
She approached Lexa directly, chin lifting, and said, “I know the rest of them. Raven Reyes, the youngest car booster to make it with the pro fence rings since ‘Baby Face’ Nelson. With a penchant for finding scapegoats in her own ring of friends—“
“That’s a flat out lie,” Raven said.
Again, Clarke disregarded Raven and continued on, “Anya Lin, ex-spec ops, classified military operations extraordinaire turned part-time criminal, part-time kiddie softball coach.”
Anya shrugged, neither confirming nor refuting the description.
“Octavia Blake, the illegitimate child of Aurora Blake, late wife of millionaire Julian Blake. Bounced around foster care for a while, complicated by the fact that her main hobbies are pickpocketing and good old-fashioned B&E.”
“I like hiking too,” Octavia defended.
“But you,” Clarke said, focused on Lexa, “I don’t know you. You’re an unknown variable.”
“Just the way I like it,” Lexa said.
They stared each other down. This grifter, Clarke, had quick, assessing eyes, and Lexa willed her stoic façade to hold.
“Lexa Woods,” Octavia interjected. “Junior at Polis Uni, business and poli sci double major. Stays on the other side of the law, barely even jay-walks. There, you know her now.”
Clarke’s gaze remained on Lexa for a second or two longer.
“This is personal, right?” Clarke asked, addressing the rest of the team. “Whatever scam or con you want me in on. It’s personal.”
Lexa was surprised to find Anya, Octavia, and Raven turn to her expectantly for their collective answer. She’d declared herself leader of the team and this was the first step in proving it.
“Yes. But I’m more than capable of separating feelings from decisions.”
“Still. I don’t do revenge cons with emotional stakes,” Clarke said. “They always go bad.”
“Well, that’s why we’ve assembled the best,” Octavia said.
Raven leaned back in her chair with a smirk, like she thought “the best” didn’t even begin to cover it. To her left, Anya remained tight-lipped, seemingly trusting Lexa’s recruitment tactics.
“What we’re trying to pull off here is reckless, maybe even impossible,” Lexa acknowledged. Tilting her head slightly, she continued, “But it’s also going to be the biggest thing ever attempted this side of Mount Weather. If you want to sit it out and continue with your little riskless cons—”
“Little riskless cons?” Clarke asked, jaw clenching.
“—none of us will blame you,” Lexa said.
“I talked ArkPharma out of ten thousand dollars when I was fourteen,” Clarke said. “ Talked.”
“I’m aware of your credentials,” Lexa said, waving it off. “But nothing any of us have accomplished individually can match up to what we can do together. And I know what we can do together.”
Clarke expelled a derisive huff.
“Cage Wallace has been untouchable for years, shielded by his father’s company,” Lexa said, steely-eyed. “We’re going to destroy the indestructible. Are you in?” She extended her hand towards Clarke.
“Cage Wallace?” Clarke asked, attention piqued. “You’re going to destroy him?”
“Annihilate him,” Lexa confirmed.
Lexa didn’t exactly trust the way Clarke’s expression changed. Like she had an ulterior motive and wasn’t going to bother to hide it.
“Fine,” Clarke said, shaking Lexa’s hand firmly. “Count me in.”
Three days earlier…
There were three people following her.
She wasn’t stupid, and they weren’t even a little inconspicuous. If the situation were different—if she wasn’t walking to the bus stop alone on a quiet night—she would’ve been offended at the amateur tactics her tails employed. As it was, however, she thought caution on her end might be a wiser strategy than disdain.
Discreetly, she dialed three numbers, muffling the sound with her coat.
“911 emergency service, Kat speaking. What is your emergency?”
Raising the phone to her ear, she turned to face her stalkers with an eerily calm demeanor. “Three men are following me. They’re all around six feet, clean shaven, and wearing lots of black. I’m nearing the corner of Applewood and Birch.”
The tallest man lashed forward hurriedly. She easily sidestepped his attack.
“The big one just tried to hit me,” she told emergency operator Kat, annoyed.
“Okay, Applewood and Birch. Officers are—“
The second one lunged forward and aimed his fist towards her neck, forcing her to block it with her left arm. As the first one attacked again her phone slipped from her grasp. It clattered as it hit the pavement.
The third man hung back and wordlessly watched the fight unfold, one hand in the pocket of his jacket. Though the sky loomed dark and cloudy overhead, the nearby streetlights illuminated just enough for her to glimpse a peek at his face. He had dark slits for eyes and a hard edge to his jawline.
“You.” Shaking with rage and recognition, she shrugged off the two other men and charged for the leader.
He withdrew his hand, revealing a sleek black pistol, but she didn’t stop until her elbow connected with his gut. The tip of the gun barely touched her shoulder before he staggered backwards with a quiet groan of pain.
“Mrs. Woods, I’d advise you not to do that again,” he said a little breathlessly.
“Are you going to shoot me, Mr. Emerson?”
Tilting his head, he said, “Shoot you? No, no, I’m not going to hurt you. But your daughters?” She stiffened, and he knew he had her there. “They seem like the type who look for trouble.”
She was still shaking, but this time it was more than just anger.
“What do you want?” Her words came out low and soft. Deadly, Emerson thought.
Pain blossomed from the back of her head as one of the lackey’s fists connected with her skull. The other kicked her in the ribs as she fell forward. Blow after blow rained down until she stopped keeping track.
“Your silence,” Emerson said.