Chapter Text
According to the news, he was a dead man. Not metaphorically. Actually dead, gone to the world, chatting up the worms; whatever euphemism the reporters had been told to say to dampen the harshness of his crimes and the corpse on screen.
“-Witnesses says the robber, who stole over two million dollars worth of diamonds, was shot dead at the scene, confusing the police as video surveillance later showed a boy with that same appearance walking around at-“
He shuts the television off. It wasn’t what he needed after the nightmare he just had, and he sighs. He wipes the sweat off of his face.
How the hell is he going to get out of this one?
The bright light of the day pours into the window of the trailer. Jackson hates this trailer. It serves as a perfect representation of his life: horribly put together and made to move around. He hates a lot of things these days, actually. It seems to be a contender for an emotion he feels most often.
He flicks the tv back on. This time the reporter talks about how the town is being combed over and every house was being surveyed, so the suspect would definitely be caught.
Jackson groaned. This meant skipping town. Again. What is this, the ninth time?
He didn’t spend much time wallowing. He had learned that wallowing was a waste of time and should only be reserved if someone died which-
Technically he did.
But still. No wallowing!
Jackson jumps up from bed and begins packing. Between foster care and his…less than stellar track record, he can pack up his life in five minutes, twenty-three seconds. Give or take a few seconds.
He makes sure to grab the essentials: pocket knife, crackers, the book his mother gave him. All shoved into his messenger bag. Clasping the latches on the side, Jackson pulls a premade sign from under his bed.
He slips his black hoodie on, ensuring he obscures his face from whoever might be watching. Double knotting the laces on his boots, he hums to himself.
Jackson opens the door to the trailer and shuts it quickly. He pulls out the ‘FOR SALE’ sign and tapes it to the door. When the police finally decide to look in there, Jackson knows he’ll be long gone.
He walks down the street with a practiced stride. Not too anxious or eager. Jackson thinks about a lot of things.
Like how if he gets caught he’s definitely getting thirty years in prison with no probation. There would be no remorse from the jury, only confusion, and that would not help Jackson.
Like how if he does get caught, he wouldn’t be able to handle being trapped. He doesn’t like running, don’t get it wrong. But being locked up while his mind and soul run free; that is his personal version of hell.
Like how his Tios are probably watching the news, seeing their son’s dead body on the screen as the reporters call him a criminal.
He stops on the sidewalk. He decides he has one more thing to do.
Jackson stops by the nearby payphone. He rummages around in his pocket and finds two quarters. After inserting them into the slot, he listens for the ringing noise. He hopes they’re home, because this might be his last chance to talk to them.
Indefinitely.
“Hello?”
“Tia?” Suddenly he feels twelve years old again.
“Oh, my baby.” She sighs in relief. The guilt inside of Jackson pools in his stomach. He made her worry. “How are you? Are you eating well?”
“I’m fine. Have you been watching the news?”
There’s a pause.
“Of course we have. The things they’re saying about you…Jackie, tell me they aren’t true.” She pleads. Jackson bites his tongue.
He can’t. He can’t tell her about his crimes, what he’s done to survive and what he’s done just to satiate the urge to steal. That there’s an animal inside of him and it’s hungry, starving, ravenous insatiable thing. All it wants is to steal, to take.
“Hey, you know. I think I’m gonna go on a trip. To China. Get a job on the boat and travel the world, Y'know?" He offers.
Carol chuckles. “Then I guess you’ll have to get used to eating Chinese food.”
Another pause. Then a worried sigh. “This trip…what does it mean? That I won’t see you again?”
“Of course we’ll meet again.” He swears.
“At the cemetery?” She whispers.
Jackson sighs. His Tia’s right. He can’t go back home after this, not with so many law enforcement institutions calling for his head on a stake.
There’s a cough. An unfamiliar one. The voice in his head raises its hackles.
“Tia, are you alone?”
“Yes, it’s just me and your Tio.” She states with a hitch in her breath.
“Okay. Go to the grocery store down the highway. I’ll meet you there before I go.” He instructs.
“Alright. I love you, Cielo.” He lets the words sear into him. It’s what he deserves.
But she deserves one more chance to see her child. If he can’t give her money, he’ll give her this.
“Love you too.” He puts the phone back into the receiver.
He’s halfway to the grocery store when a car pulls up next to him.
“Get in the car, Jackson.” Of fucking course his brother finds him. He ignores him and grips the strap on his messenger bag. Diary follows him, and isn’t that a perfect representation of how their relationship works?
“I’m not going with you. My Tios know now. Nevermind the whole thing with the dead body.” Jackson mutters. “I got that body ethically! Was I supposed to just let it go to waste?” “So you made me fake my own death!?” Jackson asks exasperatedly. Diary shrugs. “It was a happy coincidence that the corpse looked like you. Well, close enough.” He corrects after he must’ve noticed the grim look on Jackson’s face.
The car screeches to a halt. Diary always was a bit hard on the brakes. He gets a serious look on his face. “It’s a trap. You’re headed to the slaughterhouse if you meet your little happy family.” “I need to see them.” Jackson insists. Maybe this time Diary will understand the concept of a family. “No you don’t. And they don’t need to see their precious angel baby splattered on the pavement.” Jackson feels nauseous at the thought. “They wouldn’t-“ Diary chuckles. “With the shit you’re being charged for? They wouldn’t risk you escaping for one second.”
He had a point. Diary always had a point. That’s why Jackson went along with his long-winded schemes and elaborate theft plans. Why he carried out his quote unquote ‘dirty work.’
“If you get in, I’ll buy you food.” It’s a final tactic Diary tries every time Jackson isn’t convinced. But real food that wasn’t just in his bag for a week sounds great.
He gets in the car, slamming the door. “What is it this time?” “Can’t I just help my baby brother in a time of need?” Diary questions. Jackson huffs. “Alright, first of all: we’re the same age. If anything, you’d be younger. Second of all: you always have something up your sleeve.” He lists. Diary shrugs. “If you say so.”
Diary’s smile is creepy, even when viewed through the car mirror. “How does a heist sound?”
“Horrible.” He states.
Diary clicks his teeth. “How about stealing $2.4 billion dollars?”
That…that sounded better. Nobody had ever scored that big. Not in New York, London, or Paris.
He didn’t like the idea of being in the news so soon again. But Jackson decided that if he was going to be in the news, it would be for the biggest heist in all of history.
~~~~~~
Turns out, Diary had been thinking of this plan for years. When Jackson asked why, Diary shrugged and said ‘it gets boring in the loony bin,’ whatever that means.
This heist was huge. It had to be more than just the two of them. It was bigger than them.
“You know this means a crew, right? I know how much you hate socializing.” Jackson teases. Diary sighs.
“I do not. I just…think of other humans as beneath me.” Jackson sighed and refrained from the remark that swelled in his throat. Sometimes Diary acts like he’s some elite god and not a small-time crime planner.
“Where are we even going to get these people?” Jackson inquires. Diary waves him off. “Oh, don’t worry Jackson, I got it all covered.”
That actually made Jackson feel worse.
~~~~~~~
Eight days later (the amount of days Jackson spent hiding for his last stunt) the crew was put together. Six hours after that all seven of them were in an abandoned classroom.
Diary had picked the old schoolhouse because he liked the charm of it. That’s what he told them, anyway. Jackson thinks he likes how it's secluded from the rest of the world and could withstand a burning fire, as evidenced by the burn marks on the wall. Jackson pushed away the anxiety of structural collapse to follow the group.
Diary ushered them into a classroom. The burn marks ran all throughout this room, almost coating the room in an ashy-black-gray paint. The chalkboard and the single seat desks were brand new. At least none of their desks would splinter into a million pieces when they sat on them.
The crew chose their desks. Jackson sat in the front, if only to shield someone else from Diary’s….Diary-ness. It’s something he is accustomed to, and he doesn’t want anyone freaking out on the first day.
Diary grabs the chalk and writes out ‘WELCOME’ on the chalkboard in his scrawly handwriting.
“Welcome. Thank you guys for taking this…job opportunity.” Diary settles on. Someone behind Jackson snorts. Diary ignores it. “We will live here. All of us. Away from the world and its noise.” He scribbles something on the chalkboard. “For two years. Two years we will spend studying every little part of this heist until we know it backwards, forwards, and sideways.” He explains. “Two years? Are you insane?” A boy with curly brown hair speaks up in the seat behind Jackson. “What could be so important about this heist that it takes two years to learn it?” He argues, sharp amber eyes challenging him.
Diary groans. “People spend years studying for a degree. In the end, all they get is a mediocre job with a salary. I’ve been studying so I will never have to work. And you guys won’t either.” He gestures to the room. “Or your children. This heist will be revolutionary.”
“We’ll go around the room. First names only, I don’t want anyone digging for information on the first day.” He points to a boy with blue hair in the back of the room. “I don’t want to be a part of whatever drama you guys have.” Jackson can’t help but chuckle at Diary’s apathy for human connection. “And no relationships. I have no time for any potential petty squabbles.” He adds. The crew giggles.
That's when they all started to introduce each other.
The guy sitting next to Jackson was David. He had blond hair and sharp blue eyes. He was a master of escapes and knew his way around almost any tool that could be used to bust through a wall. He ran away from home at sixteen for reasons he refused to disclose. He was in France before this, digging upwards for his thefts.
The girl behind David was Pamela. Black hair and heavy eyeliner with dark clothes to match. A social rights activist who spent her time fighting for what was right, disrupting the peace on multiple occasions. She always left her mark. Literally. Her big crime was defacing a huge series of statues, taking a sledgehammer to it and leaving the police to find the evidence. All while blasting music with outstanding taste; a total badass.
The girl next to her was Brenda. Red hair and sapphire eyes. A jewel thief with outstanding attention to detail. Raised by a single mother her entire life, she says she's learned to handle herself. Jackson’s pretty sure the bracelet she’s wearing has been on exhibit at The Louvre, and he’s guessing they didn’t just hand it over willingly. She would be handling the checking of the bills.
In front of Brenda is Ron. Blue hair with black roots coming in and heavy combat boots. An expert at blackmail and gaining information to destroy the most powerful people in the world. He started out as a regular private investigator, but when he started unraveling the threads he was finding, he realized everyone had something to hide. He’s been on the run for a year now, ever since he sacrificed his anonymity to help his sister. He would be handling communications.
Across from Ron is Exer. The boy who argued with Diary. Apparently his crime was…stealing a cat? From a top secret government agency. Exer said he couldn’t watch her be experimented on. Compared to the others’ crimes it was definitely an outlier. Diary says he’s a great person to have in a heist, though, so there has to be more to him.
Across from Jackson was Elijah.
God, where does he even start with Eli?
He can start with the basics. Elijah comes from a super-rich family as in ‘they own a small island’ rich. A nepo baby in every sense of the word.
Elijah has a penchant for pretty things. Pretty people, pretty parties, and pretty art. Pretty expensive art. Art he had to have because he’s never been told no in his life.
He was an art thief. A spoiled brat.
Jackson’s biggest weakness. He knew the moment he looked up into gray eyes almost identical to his, he was done for. Elijah had lived up to his reputation as a siren and dragged Jackson down into the ocean beneath.
As if Elijah could tell Jackson was thinking about him, he raises his hand. Perfect and poised. Diary points to him. “Yes, Elijah?” “What are we robbing, anyways?” He asks, before staring directly at Jackson. Jackson can’t help but smile.
Diary grins a wicked grin, then shifts everyone’s attention to the back of the room. On a table is a paper model of a building Jackson swears he’s seen before.
“We will be robbing The U.S Mint.” Diary announces.
Holy shit.
~~~~~~
Two years later and they’re in the back of a black van about to commit one of the greatest heists to be known to man.
You wouldn’t know that listening to the argument they were having right now, though.
“These masks are stupid.” Exer announces as he takes off his mask.
“So?” Elijah asks.
“So? Couldn’t our masks have been like a zombie or the grim reaper. We just look like we got out of the circus!” He holds up the clown masks with rosy red cheeks and red noses.
“Clowns are scary.” Ron declares as he inspects his mask.
“Thanks for that, Ron.”
“Welcome.” He smiles.
Jackson snorts.
“God, this crew needed more women.” Brenda notes. Pamela nods.
“Agreed.”
The boys continued their argument about the masks until there was a slam on the brakes (most likely Diary’s horrible driving) and there were several bangs against the doors.
“Well, this has been lovely, but that’s our cue to leave.” Brenda states as she hops out of the van. Jackson nods and goes to follow her. He looks at Elijah one last time, who gives him a wave.
For a moment, Jackson thinks about how their lives would never be the same after this. Even if they succeeded, the ripple effect that would be caused would run through them all.
Then again, there isn’t really ever a perfect day for a heist. This, their final hurrah, was inevitable.
He hops out of the van and he and Brenda get into the car waiting for them. Brenda is the driver, and Jackson’s in the passenger seat. The car engine thrummed to life and they were off.
After Jackson went over the plan in his head once, twice, his mind wandered. He remembered that the night before, he had been proposed to, with a shiny wedding band and everything.
He remembered how Elijah had gotten down on one knee with glistening eyes so full of love. Love that Jackson couldn’t even begin to fathom was all for him.
Jackson sighed. He couldn’t be thinking about that now. He’d give Elijah his answer later, when this was all over, and they’d never have to worry about anything ever again.
Brenda parks the car in the back lot. She hums to herself. “Are you ready?” She asks. Jackson sighs. “Yep. Let’s do this.” They’d rehearsed this a million times. Now it was time to put all their hard work to good use.
They grab the two bags out of the trunk. Jackson’s well-loved messenger bag and a brand new dark pink purse for Brenda. They stand outside of the U.S Mint, waiting for the signal.
Brenda rummages around and pulls out a walker talkie from her bag. “We’re in position.”
“Alarms are disabled. Go now!” Diary ordered. Brenda clicked the walkie talkie off and the two of them headed into the Mint.
They were meant to be diversions. Distractions. Made to draw attention away from the rest of the crew currently infiltrating through the employee entrance.
Before they get through the door, Brenda stops them. She pulls out a pair of sunglasses and puts them on Jackson. “I knew you wouldn’t have let me walk in without an accessory.” He chuckles. “Hey, I told Diary we wouldn’t compromise our style for this heist.” She told him.
They walk through the front entrance with zero fanfare. They set their sights on the metal detectors, exactly where they need to be.
Jackson goes first, placing his bag down on the conveyor belt. Brenda followed.
He could hear Diary’s voice in his head counting down.
Three…Two…One…
The alarm blares, courtesy of the knife in his bag. The security guard calls his friend over to inspect his bag.
But it’s too late. Jackson and Brenda smile at each other.
“Nobody moves! Nobody moves or I’ll kill you!” David barges in with Exer holding their assault rifles. “Come on, follow us! Now!” They grab the guards and start dragging them.
A guard sneaks up behind Jackson, but one swift kick to his lower half has him down. Suddenly he’s grateful for all the defense lessons Diary insisted they take. He turns to see Brenda do the same.
She goes to grab the masks out of her bag and tosses one to Jackson. “Let’s go. Wouldn’t want to be late.” He nods and the two of them head up the grand staircase as David and Exer finish up.
The two of them find Pamela. “Everyone on their way out?” “Yep. Just got a few more stragglers but those two seem to be having fun with them.” “Yeah. Where’s Ron?” He resists the urge to ask where Elijah is. “Setting up the communications system. After he’s done we’re onto phase two.” She explains.
Jackson takes a breath. “And Elijah's getting the bags?” He questions. “Yes, just in time for our grand performance.” Pamela states sarcastically.
After the last of the people are pushed out of the bank, the doors lock shut. Elijah comes running out from somewhere with several large duffel bags. “Alright. Everyone take one.” He instructs. The group does so, slinging the bags around their shoulders.
Jackson is the last one to take one and the group has already moved on. When Jackson turns to follow them, Elijah grabs his wrist.
He thinks about last night. The ring. Elijah’s face. They all flit through his mind like a fast-moving photo album.
“I would wait for you. I’m sorry I didn’t say it earlier.” Elijah tells him. Jackson smiles. “I would wait for you too. Except you are impatient as hell, so I don’t think that’s realistic.” Elijah giggles. Jackson pulls his hand free to run it through Elijah’s hair. “You’re looking very handsome today. I don’t think anyone’s told you that yet.” He compliments. Elijah preens. “It’s the heist. Makes me all gorgeous.” Now it’s Jackson’s turn to giggle.“If you say so.”
“Jackson! Get your butt down here, Exer’s about to open the door!” Brenda yells. “Right. I’m coming!” He exclaims. He takes one last look at Elijah before running downstairs to meet the others.
Jackson, Brenda, David, and Exer stood in front of the big security doors. This was intentional, a ploy by Diary made to throw off any law enforcement that would surely be on their way right now.
‘You guys will act like dumb kids,’ Diary had told them. ‘Take the duffel bags, run like you’re scared, and shoot at the ground. Then, you’ll pretend to realize the cops are there and run back inside as if you’ve been trapped.’
Exer pressed the button to open the door. The gears groaned as the doors slowly let the light inside. The group pulled on their masks.
The door made a clink noise when it was completely open. That was their cue. The four of them ran out. David and Exer began shooting at the ground.
That’s when Jackson realized too late Diary had forgotten a key detail to all of this.
He’d forgotten to tell them the cops would shoot back.
Something he’d only realized when a bullet went through his abdomen.
He collapsed on the entrance of The Mint unceremoniously. His duffel bag opened, and piles of counterfeit money poured out, blowing in the wind.
Someone cursed. Probably Exer. He felt the blood seep through his outfit and tried to stop it, trying to remember what Diary had taught them.
Then he was being picked up. Jackson definitely screamed out in pain, but that didn’t deter the other person.
He was placed on the floor of The Mint. Jackson’s mind briefly entertained the thought of his blood on the pristine marble floors.
“Oh my god, Jackson!” Elijah ran over to him and held him tight. Jackson wanted to grab back at him. The pain was too much, though.
Once the ringing in his ears subsided, he could hear the one thing Diary hated the most: uncontrolled chaos. The crew were all shouting out different things (someone was definitely pointing out his and Eli’s closeness) in the pandemonium.
Jackson chuckled. It hurt to laugh, though, so it was short lived.
His mind wandered back to two years and eight days previous, where he’d been staring at ‘his’ corpse on screen. Thinking what a stupid thing it was for Diary to do, and how he’d never end up dead in a heist no less.
He laughed again. Maybe it was the adrenaline.
Now he really was a dead man.