Let me set the scene, a beautiful art gallery with two sliding doors overlooking the bay, people scattered everywhere, it was perfect, until….

Something wasn’t right, I looked at the paintings ahead and realized they all had something in common… a random person appearing in the paintings…odd right? I looked around curiosity overtaking me—no one was noticing.

My assistant—_and_ best friend—Rose, was standing beside a painting—a smiling woman watching the sunset.

“Have you noticed anything?” I ask in a whisper.

“Yes, the same guy is in the background.” She whispered.

Something invisible flew through us, “You think?” She asked, implying something was suspicious, and I nodded.

“Who do you think is in charge?” She asked.

Both of us looked around, “How about the guy in glasses?” I ask.

We both laughed, the rush of adrenaline running through our veins. _We felt important for once. _

Rose and I shook hands and then began making rounds, looking for the person in charge.

“Hello sir,” I ask, looking at a butler cleaning up a coffee stain.

“_Madam_, anything you need?”

“Who is in charge of these lovely paintings? Who picks them out?”

“The man over there,” He points toward a man with a tux and slicked-back hair.

“Sir, I love these paintings.”

He smiled, “Thank you, some new ones arrived, would you like to see them?” I couldn’t help but notice his British accent.

I smiled, “I would love to sir.”

He showed me to a huge room sperated from the floor we were on, and filled with paintings.

“Wow these are lovely.”

He ignored my question, “Now tell me why you’re _really_ here?”

“No particular reason, I just heard about this art gallery from a friend and wanted to visit.”

“I can already tell, I’m going to like you.”

“Why?” I ask, curiosity filling my bones.

“You're an awful liar, I heard you talking to your _partner_?”

“Partner for what? Dancing?” I asked genuinely, with a hint of sarcasm.

He smiled, “You guys were talking about the paintings.”

“And what’s up with the paintings?” I asked, catching on.

“Nothing,” he clears his throat.

His hands go up in a fighting position, I didn’t mention this sooner, but I was a black belt in karate. And we had come here on a mission—not for fun… we’ll maybe _both_.

I put my hands up on defense, ready for his attacks. He tried punching me but I caught his arm, he grinned—realizing how good I really was. He tried to grab me, but I got out of his grasp and hit his stomach, his hands touching his stomach as he grunted in pain. Then I flipped him over on his back while he tried to fight was distracted by the raging pain in his stomach.

I ran out of the building when I noticed security was slowly approaching—and ready for their target—_me_.

Rose had the car pulled out front and I got in, we pulled out of the driveway with huge smiles on our faces.

“You got the proof right?” She asked.

I grinned, “Yes.” I pickpocketed the flash drive from his pocket, the flash drive contained evidence of painting fraud and proof of originality—which was forged.

We lost them, but it wouldn’t be long before someone came after us.