ENF P 1

Ch 1

	Enmendurana. One of the great god-kings from a time long forgotten, mentioned as ancient history in the oldest texts known to mankind. A figure from history, shrouded in secrecy. There are precious few objects that could be traced to the time period that man comes from, but among those priceless artifacts, there is one that stands above the rest. It is the Black Crown of Enmendurana. Ancient metals, now covered in a thick, black exterior. It was priceless. You would be hard-pressed to find its equal in a single object. One of the oldest relics of humanity’s past, and here it was in a glass case, with minimal alarms, a single security guard standing nearby and a small crowd of thirty people milling about, staring at it.

	It bothered me, to see something so priceless reduced to nothing more than a tourist attraction. Of course, it wasn’t even that popular as a display. People filtered in and out of the small room to gawk at the blackened piece of metal, but it was outclassed by a nearby hallway with a sarcophagus and all of its trappings. As I slipped out of the museum to prepare for the job, a swell of excitement filled my body. My stomach was a little tight and my palms sweated, mind racing with the details. In forty-five minutes, I was going to be lifting that crown out of its case and taking it out of the hands of art smugglers.

	My phone buzzed as I hurried down the steps of the building, heading for the unmarked van a street down to swap into my suit. It was the Agency. The dead drop location had been selected, a few blocks from the Museum. It was far enough that I could make it on foot if I had to confirmed. I was to set the crown in the side alley behind the museum, where it would be picked up moments afterwards. I checked the details of the mission one last time.

	Switch into my suit. Grapple up to the roof of the museum. Slip down through an unlocked skylight into an unused room of the museum, where I had set up some of my tools. In twenty-five minutes, there would be a change of staff, and the janitorial staff would close off the hallway with the crown for cleaning purposes as they prepared to remove it and bring in a new display. It would be the last shot at the crown before it was sold on the black market, which meant that I had no choice but to act. There were other details, of course. Like the security vent I had to squeeze through, or the laser alarm grid that I had to overload. Small details. Going over them a few more times, the first thing on my mind was swapping out of my day clothes.

	There’s nothing quite as satisfying as putting on something that makes you look good. My suit? It made me look very good. Stripping down in the back of the van, the flawless, tight fit of that reinforced stealth suit was something I looked forward to every mission. It was sleek, comfortable, the interior was reinforced with comfortable lining while the exterior was a durable fabric that not only made me nearly impossible to spot in the right conditions, but highlighted my form rather nicely. I was self-conscious the first time I put it on. There’s no room for clothes underneath it, and it leaves nothing to the imagination. My breast size, the swell of my hips, the curve of my back as it flowed down into my firm rear end.

	Alright, so I’m a little proud of my body. But I work hard to keep it in shape! The hood and visor go on next. Unobtrusive goggles, the dim green pane filled with information from the sensors built into my suit. My blonde ponytail fits into the hood before I tighten the garment around my head. Boots, and then gloves. Climbing gear, and my toolbelt. I was ready. An extraction in the middle of the day felt wrong, but I didn’t have a choice.

	The climb goes well enough. I’m on the building, the skylight lifts and I slide down without a rope, dropping with ease to the floor beneath me, making hardly a sand. I wasn’t going out that way, the escape route went through a side door into an alleyway that was closed off for construction, the same alley as the dead drop. I keep going over the details, trying to keep them straight in my head as I turn on my equipment. I check my watch, and then the security feed. The cleaning crew was just now starting to set up. The door to the crown was closed, and the security grid was still off to let the janitors in and out undisturbed. It was perfect.

	I set a timer on a small laptop for exactly five minutes, and then slip over to the vent. That ticking electronic bomb would ensure that the security feeds would go down and stay down during my heist. It was one headache taken care of before the party had even started. The vent looks smaller than I recall, but it shouldn’t be a problem. I clamber up and begin to scurry through the compact tunnel, my visor illuminating the way for me. It’s a straight shot for about two feet, then a descent to the fourth floor, and then another straight shot to the room I needed. It was going to be perfect. Was. I feel a snag.

My belt and its myriad satchels are caught on the sharp ninety-degree turn. I barely made the twist, and I’m not sure that it’s going to fit. I don’t need the tools. Sure, they’d be helpful, but I don’t need them. Maybe one. I unhook the belt and snag a single pouch from it, taking a moment to reposition myself as I prepare myself for a one-story drop in a tight metal tube. Another agent would drop by to retrieve the gear I had left in the room above, and I’d alert them to the belt as well. It wasn’t really a problem, but it was an annoyance.

I thought the security grid was going to be disabled for the janitors. It technically was, inside the room. The first sign that things had gone wrong was that my visor went bright white. My optics were completely shot, and I could feel my body growing hot. It took me just a moment to realize what had happened. I dropped straight through a high-heat laser grid. The alarm component had been fried by my electrical ‘bomb’ mere moments ago, but it was in the process of overheating. And it had nearly killed me. It was going to kill me if I didn’t move fast. I come to a sudden stop at the bottom of the tube, ripping my visor and hood off. The visor was malfunctioning and my hood was melting. There was the faint smell of burning hair, but the smell of my suit igniting was far worse.

It was on fire. I was on fire. The suit is ripped unceremoniously from my body, peeled clean off in a panic. I’m desperately trying not to make too much noise in the vent, but I can only do so much. The cold metal vents on my bare skin are welcome compared to the molten-hot semi-liquid suit that I slip out of. Quite a few patches of skin are going to be a little burnt, but I’m not too badly hurt. The interior lining kept me relatively safe. I hear the dull hum of the alarms being shut down completely, the laser grid disabled. If I had just taken a minute longer removing that belt.

As I push open the vent and slip out into the crown room, it hits me. The adrenaline from the laser grid incident is still making my heart pound, but my lack of equipment is more worrisome. I’m sweating, carrying only that one set of tools I had the forethought to grab (my lockpick set) as I stumble out into the display room, entirely naked. My tools were in the vent, up a steep, slick metal vent. Without my climbing gloves or boots, there was no way I could reach them. There’s a draft from the vent, carrying with it the smell of burning fabric. I reattach the metal grate and secure it in place.

How was I going to do this? Was I really expected to pull off a grand heist in the nude? I couldn’t just slip out. This was the one chance at this priceless relic, and if I fucked it up, there was going to be hell to pay. Still, I couldn’t help but tremble as I stepped forward. I was blushing like a schoolgirl. Relax, dammit. The plan was ALWAYS to remain unseen. I could still pull it off without my suit. The glass case’s alarm system should be down. The warning light was flashing green. I was good to go. Without my gloves to prevent fingerprints, it takes a moment to awkwardly lift the case using only my knuckles. I set it aside, snagging the treasure from its pedestal. It’s heavy. Solid. The small pouch that my lockpicks were in fits it perfectly, and I take a moment to wrap it up before tucking it away. Now I had two things in hand. A small bag with a crown in it, and a lockpick set gripped tightly.

I push open the door. I’m on time. The cleaning crew is nowhere in sight, and this particular hall has been emptied of people. I would be nervous doing this with my suit. Naked? My heart was still pounding. My palms were sweating. Without my gloves, I could feel it growing more difficult to keep my grip on the slick metal lockpicks. I stepped out and darted down the hallway. I kept my eyes peeled, listening sharply. Footsteps. I slip into a bathroom off to the side. This was part of the plan - wait for them to pass by on their sweep, and continue to the end of the closed wing. Cold tile under my feet. My nipples are hard. I feel a sudden twist in my stomach as I realize that I was slightly aroused. Not now. Why now? I glance over at the massive mirrors in the bathroom, staring at my own body, stark naked, flushed, slick with sweat.

I was naked, on a heist, in a museum filled with people. It wasn’t just dangerous. It was exciting. I was terrified, and my body could only translate this into pure exhilaration. The steps pass by the bathroom. I take a deep breath. The doorknob begins to turn. I panic. I slip into one of the stalls, sliding under the door deftly. I make no noise, bare flesh quiet enough. Heavy footsteps. It was the men’s room. Not that it matters much as I hear someone two stalls down undoing their belt. I’m standing atop a toilet, crouching precariously as I wait. This shouldn’t throw off my schedule. I pray that it doesn’t, clenching my picks tightly and fumbling with the crown for a moment.

As I sit there in that awkward pose waiting for the stranger to finish, I catch myself. My thighs rub together. I’m breathing more heavily. Not now. This is NOT the time. It was burning me up, I could feel my cheeks growing hot and a slickness between my thighs. The sink turns on. He takes what feels like a short eternity washing before he steps out. I pause for a moment, catching my breath and slowly slipping down to the ground. I walk out and creep over to the door, walking carefully as I try to keep from thinking about my arousal. I push it open, daring to poke my head out. Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit. The hallway I was in the middle of had two groups of people. One group was moving a massive rug in the direction I needed to go, and the other group was finishing up at the other end, in the rooms I had come from. I didn’t exactly have many choices.

Potted plants line either side of the hallway. I duck over to one, putting it between myself and the museum staff behind me. I watched the two men carrying a rug. They weren’t looking back at all. I could do this. I feel every beat as my heart pounds in my chest. Every time they pause for a brief moment to adjust their grip on that massive rug, I feel as though I’m going to die. I glance over my shoulder numerous times, ensuring that nobody’s come up behind me. Finally, they pass the hallway. It’s empty. It’s almost over. I’m so close. There’s a window at the end of the room that drops down into the alley I need. I hurry over and unclasp the lock, hoisting it up and glancing down.

My heart sinks. It’s not that I’m afraid of heights - I love the rush of sliding down rope, of making a rapid descent and then landing firmly on the ground once more. It’s just that I don’t care to do that when there’s unplanned construction. I glance down the street. I can see a figure on a rooftop. I stick a lockpick out the window and catch some sunlight, flashing it at the agent. They respond in kind. I can make the dead drop from here. I tear the bag slightly, dangling it by its own thread. It’s only a few floors, and I let it drop softly, setting it securely behind a large trash can. The agent signals me again. Mission complete.

Sort of. I close the window. I can’t go out that way. I mean, I could. If I were to climb out the window, it wouldn’t be hard to make my way to the ground floor. But I’d be stark naked in a construction site surrounded by people. I don’t know if I could explain my way out of that, or keep from being implicated in SOMETHING. I don’t have a crown to worry about now, however. I just need to find a way out. 	I hear laughter down the hallway. People talking. The murmur of a crowd. The exhibit has been emptied of precious goods, and the barricades taken down, allowing people to pass through once more. I’m so dead.

End Ch 1