Super Thieves

Carter

Andrew and Heather were back at it again. How they haven't shot each other yet is beyond me, those two get into more fights than Tom and Jerry. While they stood there arguing in the entryway, I pushed past them and set my bag down on the hotel desk. I carefully checked each item from my bag to make sure nothing was broken or missing or torn, especially the artifact we worked so hard to steal.

It wouldn't be the first time we made a quick getaway and ended up leaving the thing we stole behind. Stealing it for a second time is usually as easy as the first. There's no real pattern to what we take, Andrew finds something that looks valuable, Heather finds a potential buyer, then we go. Those two are the brains. I just do what I'm told. They both have powers that are actually useful, if they wanted to operate on their own they could. Why I'm still kept around is beyond me.

"Heroes could've spotted us," Andrew scolded, storming into the tiny kitchen the hotel room provided. He's like the dad of the group I guess. Always worrying, never trusting anyone, checking our gear a thousand times over. It's saved our lives on hundreds of occasions, even if it is annoying sometimes.

"You worry too much, Andrew," Heather laughed as she walked past him into what was the "master bedroom". That's where she set up shop. When you're the worlds most infamous information broker you tend to need a lot of tech, and it's better to keep it all hidden from prying eyes. She's the rebellious teenage counterpart to Andrew's protective dadness. And those qualities have also saved us countless times.

"Do you honestly think you could stand up to another hero? Remember what happened with Gravity Girl?"

"I totally kicked her ass!"

"She broke three of your ribs!"

"Last time I checked she wasn't impervious to bullets, and I'm pretty sure I got her good."

"Can you both shut up already? We've got a hot item and I would like to get rid of it before we leave Tokyo," I shouted over them. I didn't even look up from the book I was thumbing through.

I guess I'm the glue keeping us together. Or the wall keeping them from killing each other.

Heather ran her hands through her messy, blonde hair. Andrew walked past her to close the blinds and curtains. It won't be long until Heather apologizes, even when it's not her fault she's the first to say sorry. I wish she'd do that less.

"Disconnect the WiFi," she said shortly, "Shadow Broker is logging on in ten minutes."

The Shadow Broker. The best information broker in the world. She sells information to anyone, from mercenaries and villains to the most respected members of the National Superhero League. Heather runs her secret trading database through her own network entirely separate form anything else. It makes her impossible to pinpoint. When the Shadow Broker first made their appearance the NSL nearly dissolved. Nobody knows who the Shadow Broker is, except the three of us. And because extremely classified NSL data files were being copied and sold like Barbies on Black Friday, they automatically assumed there was a traitor in the organization. In reality, it's just a girl who's incredible at hacking and born with a natural talent for guessing even your most secure passwords. Becoming and information broker made sense for Heather.

Andrew is known as Two Penny. I'm not really sure what he does, but I know he runs the biggest counterfeiting business in America. All by himself. When you can instantly make perfect duplicates of literally anything, there's no point in having a team behind you. Money means nothing to him, or our team. So clients who want to get rich quickly pay in information, which usually passes straight on to Heather to be resold.

The two have known each other since Heather was 15 and Andrew was 26. I know they operated as a pair for a while before I came into the picture. They caught me breaking into their safe house. Instead of shooting me, they offered me a spot on their team. It's been 5 years since.

"What exactly is this thing?" Andrew said, breaking me out of my trance. He picked up the long, white cylinder we had stolen from the museum. It had strange etchings in it's side and almost glowed with some sort of energy.

"I have no idea, and I don't think the museum knows what it is either," I replied as I showed him the book I was thumbing through.

"You seriously stole books? I doubt these are worth anything," Andrew chuckled as he looked over my shoulder.

"Most museums write down their sensitive information nowadays. So, I figured we could take a look at what they know."

"Well it doesn't look like they know anything, they only state where they found it."

"That's what I'm having issues with," I said, pulling a world map out of my backpack, "they say that it was found somewhere in Tokyo. But, why would they then bring it all the way to Tokyo?"

"Maybe some cultural significance?" Andrew responded as he took a closer look at the capsule.

"That design has no correlation with any Japanese crafting methods. It is totally American."

"Weird," Andrew mumbled, "these etchings look like numbers."

"Really? Let me see," I said as I took the capsule from him and held it under a lamp on the desk.

"See? It looks like a code of some kind," Andrew whispered.

"Our numbers girl is currently in 'do not disturb' mode," I chuckled, putting the capsule back into my pack.

"It could always be an identification number of some kind."

"If that's an identification number then there has to be more somewhere."

The capsule was odd. It didn't appear to have any seams or cracks that would suggest it could be opened. In fact, calling it a capsule is a bit of a stretch. It's more of a metal rod. Why a museum would have such high security protecting a metal rod is beyond me, but maybe Heather will find something.