NICOLE - ART HEIST
Security guards take post as night falls over the art museum. Low lights switching on once the skylights proved too dim, per routine every night. Security cameras following the grounds guard and he made his rounds through empty halls. The office guard flickered eyes from camera to camera for any sign of intruders.
The monotonous drone of the cameras, the same images night after night, left the guard on low alert. Grounds guard meandering at a snail's pace past countless masterpieces.
Then a camera cut out.
The sudden cry of a cut wire killing visual of the greatest piece the museum held startled the office guard. He ripped the walkie talkie from his hip and cleared the fearful lump forming in his throat.
“H-hey! Are you alright down there?” The guard asked. Silence replied, more cameras cut out. The static from the broken lines dancing over the screens in a wave of confusion. He leaped from his seat directly into a foreign form.
“What’s the rush?” The form asked, raising the flashlight taken from the guard’s person and bashing them over the head. The laughter lingering before consciousness was lost. He straightened, a flashing light on the dashboard ahead signalling the silent alarm had been tripped. A soft huff escaped him. He pressed the small button on his watch, dragging the guard by the ankles out of the office.
Cold metal hissed through painted canvas. Emptied frames remained where masterpieces once hung, now rolled and crammed into satchels by the purloiners. The thief moved from painting to painting, laughing softly in the marble chamber with his echo to reply. His partner returned from the storage rooms, security badge clipped to his jacket and flashlight in hand.
“Took you long enough.” The thief said. The partner rolled his eyes and tossed a crumpled suit at him.
“We got the uniforms, don’t complain about it.” The partner said.
Thief pulled the uniform on over his clothes and hauled the satchel over one shoulder. Thief’s switchblade sprung out, burying it into another canvas and slicing the piece with ease. Partner leaned up against the window at the end of the hall, peering out into the night. His watched made soft beeps as the timer decreased.
2 minutes until the police arrived.
“Did you contact the buyer?” The thief asked, calling over his shoulder.
“She’s waiting for us in Seattle. Details were in the letter, pay attention.”
“Hey, I’m not here to pay attention, smart guy. You wanted a handler, not a listener.” He replied, wagging the switchblade at his partner as a halfhearted threat.
Thief encased the paintings in cotton, buckling the satchel and fixing it on his shoulder. He raced to his partner by the window, taking his arm and nodding. Double checking his watch and scanning the streets for witnesses, the duo used the guards identities to get past the electronic locks.
Sirens blared outside, red and blue lights flashing through the night, dancing on museum walls. Police broke through the doors, storming the marble halls, lingering and ghastly frames emptied of their life with the perpetrators nowhere to be found.
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