Disclaimer: the usual, wishing I owned, yadda yadda.
Full Summary: AU: The White Gloves are an ace gang of high-class thieves at the top of their game until a new thief gang moves in and tries to overthrow the Gloves. Gang war ensues, but the real winner must steal the coup-de-gras of all thievable objects: the Glass Flower. Crime, adventure, minor romance. Slight Kurtty, Jott. Possible Humor at the end.
A/N: this comes from a story-stub (part of a story) that me, my sis, and my friend Taryn came up with listening to a song on the way back from the Loudoun County Fair. Enjoy.
The red convertible raced along the winding road, the sea waiting obediently on the right, all the way down two hundred feet of sheer cliff. The driver of the car, a young woman, pulled off her headscarf and glanced in the rearview mirror, squinting through her sunglasses at the bright California , a huge glowing, white, red, and black explosion appeared on the horizon. She smirked. Job well done. Then she caught sight of the three cop cars screaming around the corner half a mile behind her.
She laughed, thinking how they'd never find her. The plan was flawless as well as foolproof against any blunders or the cops. As the sign warning appeared, indicating a 90 degree turn, the young woman shrugged off her coat, unbuckled her seatbelt, and braced herself. The car flew straight off the road, hidden from sight by the turns of the road from the cops.
The woman had precious few seconds to deploy her parachute before the car would hit the water and she would be killed. The parachute, a steely grey-blue, snapped open and jerked her up, out of the car, and drifting along the coastline. Faintly, she heard the crash of the car hitting the water, which at that speed and height, would be like cement. The squealing of tires way back indicated the cops had seen the last part of her performance. They wouldn't see her slip away down to a small beach and disappear.
Down in the water, the woman's accomplice waited for the car to crash, so he could go in and grab the money. He checked the regulator and the waterproof watch on his wrist. The car should be coming any minute now. He glanced up and scrambled to get out of the way as the car erupted into the water. The accomplice swam over, searching through the crumpled backseat and grabbing the many bags of money, replacing the bags with fake moneybags. They were almost too heavy, but he made it to the beach where the woman waited.
"Do they suspect?" the accomplice asked as he shrugged off his scuba and flippers. The woman shook her head.
"For all they know, I committed suicide with five million dollars in the backseat. They'll send a dive team down and find the fakes—you put them in, yes? Good. We'll be headlines this time tomorrow." The woman said, taking two of the bags. She held out her hand.
"Take us home, Kurt." The two disappeared, the only evidence: a parachute, scuba, and footprints in the sand.
Yes, an agonizingly short chap, but that's why I put the second chap up right away. I've taken a liking to prologues . . . so anybody with questions like "What just happened?" just read the 2nd chapter.