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“You know what?” Miles says, words slurred slightly. He’s tipsy, teetering on the scale between sober and not, but not drunk. He hasn’t gotten drunk since he got in the fight with Jon. “We need a crew name.” I’m tired of being like,” He straightens up, all traces of alcohol gone, and he smiles widely. It’s horrifying, this quick transformation, but it’s his job. “Yeah, hi. We’d like to hire some of your mercs. For what crew? Oh, we don’t have a name.” He collapses into subtle inebriation, melting back into Kerry’s shoulder. “It makes us seem like we’re new to this whole scene, but some of us have been here our whole lives.” Lindsay looks at him.
“You’re right. Any suggestions? The box is open.” Lindsay asks and there is quiet in the room.
“How ‘bout the Real AH Crew.?” Lindsay snorts, but shakes her head.
“No, Kerry. We want to prove that we’re something separate from Ramsey.”
“I have no idea.” Jeremy says. “Literally none. I’m not even exaggerating, my mind is white noise.”
“We’ll think on it, though. And we’ll be the bad assest of bad asses! Yeah!” Meg is by far the drunkest one in the room.
It’s another week until there’s another name suggestion. It’s a drizzly day and Jon comes back from his jog, jacket stuffed with something.
“Jon, what the hell do you have?” Trevor asks, standing from the sofa and following him into the kitchen. The rest of the crew follows slightly after.
“Jon, the suspense is killing us.” Meg protests after a few moments of silence. Jon smiles and lets a throng of kittens spill from his jacket and onto the table.
“Cats!” Lindsay yells, instantly grabbing one up. “Where’d you find them?”
“Somebody had left them in an alley.” He picks up an orange one with white markings. “They’re kind of adorable. And pathetic. Mostly pathetic.” Lindsay scowls at him and covers the ears of the one in her hands.
“We can not keep those.” Jeremy says, and they all turn to look at him, pouting.
“But, Jeremy!” Miles says, cradling one against his chest. “We can’t just throw them out.”
“They are pretty helpless.” Kerry admits, rubbing one behind the ears.
“We are literally criminals.” Jeremy says, shaking his head. “We’re not even here all the time. What if we have to go to a safehouse? What will we do then? We can’t really just let a civilian into our house and tell them to take care of our cats! And most of us can hardly take care of ourselves, how can we take care of those?” He gestures at the cats.
“I… I get that.” Trevor says, looking down at the small creature in his hands. “We can find them a home, though, right?”
“We can keep the in our hearts, though.” Kerry says. “We can call ourselves the Cool Cats.” Lindsay looks at him.
“Okay, you all know I love cats, but… That name is debatable.”
“Is it weird that I kind of want to kill it?” Miles asks and Meg gently takes the kitten from his hands.
“No more cute things for you.” She says, letting it hook it’s small claws into her shirt.
Jeremy, being the main nay-sayer of the cats, is tasked with finding them a home. He sighs, ringing the doorbell of the apartment below them. The door is opened by an older woman with short, silver hair.
“Hi, Ms. Bea.” Jeremy says. She smiles at him.
“Jan, please, Jeremy. What do you have there?” She looks down at the wicker basket in his hands.
“I have some cats. We can’t keep them.” Jan smiles again and clicks her tongue.
“Oh, I’ll take them, honey.” She takes the basket from his hand. “How are your partners?” Jeremy blinks.
“Oh, we’re not all together.” She shrugs.
“Say what you must. You love them, though, don’t you?” Jeremy smiles. “I saw your latest heist. Oh, don’t look so freaked out. I used to be in that life, too. You’re doing very well for yourself.
“Thanks, Jan.” He walks back up to their apartment and declares that Jan is now the proud owner of seven kittens. Cool Cats is then thrown out on the mutual decision that Jan would not approve.
“Oat Blokes.” Jeremy says one day and Trevor looks at him.
“What?” Trevor asks, thoroughly confused.
“For our team name.” Meg shakes her head.
“Makes it sound like we’re farmers.” Meg says.
“And it’s hard to say.” Miles chimes in and Kerry nods next to him.
“We could make our own oatmeal brand, though.” Kerry protests and Jeremy looks at him.
“Kerry, we literally all hate oatmeal.” Kerry raises his hands in defense.
“You’re the one that came up with the name! And just think, we could put prizes in the boxes.” Jeremy sighs.
“What exactly would we put in those boxes? Bullets? Knives? Also, does oatmeal come in boxes?” Kerry shrugs.
“I mean, circular boxes.”
“That is not a box!” Jeremy protests.
“Let’s, uh, let’s put that one under the table.
Meg is the next one to suggest a name.
“How about Saints? S’s for stars and smoke, T for Tide. Miles and Kerry can just kind of be there.” Meg says.
“We’re the farthest thing from saints, though.” Trevor says.
“We are like the anti-saints. I don’t even know what that’s called.” Miles says. Kerry pats Miles on the back.
“You’ll get it someday.” Miles snorts.
“We’ll find a good name someday.” Jeremy promises Lindsay.
No one expects Trevor to be the bearer of the best team name in the world, but he is.
“How about Jesus Christ Super Stars?” He asks, and there is a moment of silence before cackling laughter.
“I fucking- I love it!” Lindsay declares.
“That’s beautiful.” Miles says, wiping at his face. “You’ve brought tears to my eyes.”
Meg scrawls out their new name on a sheet of paper and sticks it up on the fridge.
“Let’s do this thing.” Lindsay says and her voice echoes over the coms. “Ker-Bear, guard status?”
“We’re good, three on the south side.” Kerry says. “Zed, Lil J, Tide, the door to your right. Kill the power.” A few moments later, the lights shut off with a deep hum.
“Dollface.” Lindsay says, tapping Meg on the shoulder. “You take care of the guards and bring the car around.”
“Three floors up, kids. Black door, third hallway. Crack the safe and the gold is yours.” Meg dashes away from Lindsay and the others start to climb the stairs. “So, Jesus Christ Super Stars, you doing super?” Jon smacks his hand against the wall to keep from laughing.
“I feel like I’m starring in a show.” Miles whispers and it’s gotten so hard for Jeremy to contain his laughter.
“How do you feel, Trevor?” Kerry asks, voice crackly over the com.
“I feel like I’m Jesus Christ.” And they all lose it. Then gunshots echo through the building and they quickly fall back into silence.
“Meg?” Lindsay ventures, forgetting about code names.
“I’m good.” She says, but she sounds out of breath. “I’m good, they’re dead. I’m going to prep the car, you guys go get the car.”
The remaining five meet outside the black door and they break the lock quickly. Jon doesn’t waste anytime cracking the safe and they quickly fill their empty briefcases with gold bars. Miles tags the wall, quickly, and they make their escape.
Literally everyone freaks out when they get back to the apartment, clutching the gold like it’s their lifeline.
“Meg, are you alright?” Lindsay asks and Meg nods.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m good. I still had the jump on them.”
“It’s a good team name, though.” Miles says and Meg nods.
“It’s my favourite.”
They watch the new coverage of their heist and listen carefully when the picture of Miles’ tag flashes up on screen.
“I don’t think they’re taking us seriously.” Trevor admits.
“Really? Was it the laughter that clued you in?” Jon asks, but he’s smiling.
“Maybe we should have a professional name.” Kerry suggests. “Just to make deals and sign our stuff.”
“That’s probably smart.” Lindsay says.
But they will always be Jesus Christ Super Stars behind closed doors.
“They’re calling us Lindsay’s Team.” Miles says when he gets back from pulling off a particularly large deal. “In the underworld.”
“Is that so bad?” Lindsay asks, smirking.
“But that’s not a bad idea.” Jon says, but he’s interrupted by Jeremy and Trevor walking in together.
“Jan sends brownies and would like to congratulate us on our heist.” Lindsay snags a brownie off the plate and moans as she bites into it.
“I’m going to marry Jan.” Lindsay declares and Meg wraps herself around Lindsay’s arm.
“Take me with you.”
“Of course!” Lindsay says. “We’ll be the best polyamorous criminal trio ever.”
“Guys.” Jon says, trying to start again. “The name’s been staring us in the face. We’re Lindsay’s team, right? LT? Why not just call ourselves Lieutenants?”
“Dude.” Miles says. “That sounds bad ass.”
“But we’ll always be Jesus Christ Super Stars in our hearts.” Lindsay says, laughing.
“We let Jesus into our hearts.” Trevor says and Jeremy chokes on his brownie.
“The fucking Lieutenants.” Meg says. “Jon you’re a genius.” He shrugs.
“I’m certified.” Jon says, smiling.
“Jan’s going to be so proud.” Jeremy says. “Also, she thinks that we’re all banging.” It’s Trevor’s turn to choke on his brownie.
Three weeks later and their new name has been written on every wall in the city. Lindsay enters the apartment, crowing.
“Ramsey’s issued a warning!”
“Wait, really?” Jon asks. “We’re that important?”
“Apparently!” Meg says. “What’d he say?”
“He basically told us to fuck off and to stop taking his city, but still! This means we’re dangerous!” She waves her hands around. “It was written in the For Hire alley and addresses to Lieutenants!”
“I take credit for the name.” Jon says.
“Guys, this is amazing.” Trevor says. “We’re all on our way to becoming evil Jesus.”
“Wasn’t that Lucifer?” Kerry wonders and Trevor shakes his head in disappointment.
“Ahem.” Lindsay says, interrupting their very interesting conversation. “I’d actually like to say thing. In light of certain actions made for this crew and the general amazingness of this person, I’d like to name Jon as my second in command.” Jon smiles and Kerry pats him on the back.
“Lindsay, that’s… Thank you.” Jon says and Lindsay leans forward.
“So, second tier, what would you like to hit next?” Jon grins.
“I mean, there are some diamonds practically begging to be taken.