Unmasked

"Tonight the North Hartsville Police Department apprehended the notorious super thief known only as Phantasma. For approximately the past five years Phantasma has been responsible for stealing a number of valuable and priceless objects from collectors, auction houses and museums around the world. She was taken into custody after attempting to rob the Westin-Clark Bank on Jamestown Avenue, but less than two hours later escaped from the NHPD. Her whereabouts and identity are still unknown."

Audrey sat on her couch and munched happily on kettle corn as she watched the news break about her brilliant escape. She recorded Chief Larsen's smug speech about his department capturing her, and her subsequent "fight" with Cryogen; though he would always be Snowflake to her; and the now shamed Chief having to once again address the crowd of reporters and tell them they had already lost Phantasma and had no leads as to where or who she might be.

"That's right Larsen, let it out. Come on, cry, it's okay," Audrey said mockingly to her tv screen. Despite all the elaborate heists she had pulled off in her brief but illustrious career as a super criminal, this was by far one of her favorites. She had stolen the pride of the entire NHPD, plus made Snowflake look like an idiot on national news. She never imagined she could revel this much in making fools out of people.

The intercom on her wall buzzed, and her best friend's voice shouted, "Audrey Christine North, your punk ass better be in there!"

Grinning, Audrey buzzed Nichelle in and a few minutes later she came bursting through the front door, the multicolored beads in her braids clacking excitedly.

"I saw you on the news!" Nichelle exclaimed. "Aud, did you seriously get arrested by the North Hartsville police?"

"Shelle, relax. I got caught on purpose. I'm a little offended that you'd think they could actually catch me."

Nichelle arched one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "You got arrested on purpose? Why would you do that?"

"To prove they can't actually catch me." Audrey smirked. "Look how humiliated Chief Larsen is. He made that grandiose speech, strutting around like a puffed up peacock and now he's ruined. And so is the building." She snickered.

"Audrey, I love you but you are crazy." Nichelle shook her head. "Scoot over and give me some of that kettle corn."

Nichelle was the opposite of Audrey in most ways; Shelle was almost six feet tall, her coffee-colored hair long and currently braided into dozens of tiny braids. Honey colored eyes flashed against deep bronze skin and she was far more outgoing than Audrey had ever been. Audrey herself was pale and petite, her raven black hair cut into a chic bob with bangs falling just above her silver-gray eyes.

Nichelle also wasn't, technically, a villain; though she wasn't a hero either. She was simply known in the hero-villain world as Madame Mystic. Nichelle Fontaine came from a long line of Louisiana voodoo queens, and she was incredibly gifted with the Sight. Anyone could request her services, for the right price. Nichelle didn't much care if they were villain, hero, or norm as long as she got paid. Good and evil didn't have concrete, opposite definitions to her. What was, was and what would be, would be.

Audrey herself simply thought the lines were blurred and backward, and she made it her life's mission to reveal the corruption and incompetence of those who declared themselves "good guys."

"You're probably right," Audrey said, in answer to Nichelle's diagnosis. "But today marks fifteen years since my parents were killed. And the person who did it still hasn't faced justice, so it seemed morbidly appropriate to destroy the reputation of the people who are supposed to be the champions of justice. Don't you think?"

"That's so insane it actually makes sense. As much as you ever make sense, anyway." Nichelle's gaze softened. "I do get it, Aud. I know it messed you up when they died. But be careful, mon ami. I don't want to see your corpse on the news."

"I'm not ready to be a corpse just yet. I'm not finished with the justice league. Even though we both know whoever dies first is going to haunt the other's ass."

"Gotta get on Ghost Hunters somehow, baby." Nichelle raided the kitchen for a bottle of wine. "We need something fancy to celebrate your evil plans."

"The 1969 Cabernet Sauvignon," Audrey called back. Nichelle returned with two large wine glasses and popped the cork on the bottle.

"To your family," Nichelle said as they clinked glasses. Then they toasted Audrey's victory while watching the disastrous news report three more times before flipping the channel to watch The Walking Dead.

"I'm starving," Nichelle said. "I can't watch all this face eating zombie stuff without getting hungry."

"That's the most disgusting thing you've ever said," Audrey laughed. "You're sick, Madame Mystic."

"It's that Daryl Dixon. You know I can't resist a guy with a crossbow and a bad attitude."

Audrey rolled her eyes. "Always falling for the fixer uppers and the lost causes."

"At least I have a love life," Nichelle teased, nudging Audrey's leg with her foot. "Why don't you quit stealing Van Gogh paintings and royal heirlooms and running a tech empire once in a while and go on an actual date?"

"I date," Audrey protested.

"Okay, sweetie, bailing three-quarters of the way through a Jennifer Aniston movie a year ago doesn't really count."

"It was a really bad movie. You know I hate romcoms, and if Steven or Sven or whatever his name was had been paying any attention, he'd know it too."

"You're hopeless." Nichelle refilled her wine glass. "Now, back to my stomach since that's a problem we can solve right now."

"You want Chinese?"

"Chinese and zombies do not mesh."

"Fine you freak. I'll order some pizza."

Nichelle's eyes brightened. "Now that is an excellent idea."