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[personal profile] shallowness
I was reminded recently that I'd written this vignette about a catburglar and a billionaire (no, not that catburglar and not that billionaire.)

Title: Bad ideas.
Fandoms: Dark Angel/Smallville
Rating: G.
Characters/Pairing: Max Guevara, Lex Luthor.
Genre: SV Futurefic, Gen, Action.
Word count: 416.
First posted: December 2005.

Summary: Max tries to steal from one Lex Luthor

Disclaimer: Not mine. Playing only.

Spoilers: None specific for Smallville. Most of season 2 of Dark Angel.

Notes: This scene came to me, and I’m posting it because I don’t think I’ll ever get around to telling the rest of the story. With thanks to FridayAngel and izabelevans for betaing, all idiocies are mine.


Bad ideas: shallowness


Max looked at the man she'd been intending to rob, the owner of this and many other million-dollar cribs, all with their own humongous art collection, not to mention top drawer security meant to keep 'em private. Lex Luthor was standing three meters away from her, holding a gun like he knew exactly how to use it, and with a glint in his eyes that told her his aim would be good. Need be, he wouldn’t hesitate. She was covered and the knowledge left her cold.

A stream of memories hit her: Zack babbling in the cave, water running not too far away; Tinga whispering to Chase, trying to tuck him up safe in someone else’s home; OC handing her a glass of beer with a grin, because she’d been running late; Alec's snarkier grin as he mocked her about stealing from bad guys; and all told, they weren’t enough memories far as Max was concerned. So she concentrated, stepping away from the green kryptonite she'd come intending to steal.

Like the rest of the world, she wasn't supposed to know this stuff existed, but Eyes Only had heard a rumor about it, and he’d thought she’d be curious. She had been, having figured out that the greenies in Sketchy’s rag weren’t Manticore alumni nor the Reds in a new guise. Finding out what one of the most powerful men in what was left of the States was doing with kryptonite all locked up at his place was too strong an itch to resist.

So, here she was, walking away from the vault. Making her goodwill gesture. She let a sliver of resignation color her accompanying words,

"There's no way you're going to let me just leave, is there?"

He shook his head, and she was still in his sights.

"I'm afraid not." Max grinned at his confirmation, he smiled back, but no other muscles in his body relaxed. The possibility of blurring away became all the more remote. She needed another option. Her mind raced, he wasn't going to have a drawn-out conversation with her about which silent alarm had given her away, though she was dying to know what she'd missed out. If she had screwed up, it has been in underestimating the mark.

She had seconds before his slower mind came to the decision that he could wait for a post mortem to find out why she’d broken in, who she was. There were less than three meters between them.

The transgenic sprung.

End

Feedback would be most welcome

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