Amy

'Vamo, Chica! We haven't got all day chiquita', Cleo shouted from the car. From the till of Frappuccino, I grabbed two ombre, whipped-cream banana, vanilla and chocolate milkshakes to take to the car. 

We were already on our way to the next safehouse. 

'I heard those Bluebridge cops starved you'.

'Yeah'.

Putting on my shades and slurping my milkshake, I stepped into the car. As usual, Cleo came to bail me out. Under Acosta's orders, after he was released by his savvy lawyer, Cleo disguised herself as one of those dirty cops. 

From there, it didn't take much brainwork, just common sense. Drugging the cops with a generous, night-shift coffee and forging a badge, not only did she escort my escape, but she was voluntarily handed the safe code for Amelia. Blindly, the cops assisted our getaway. 

'Hey, how long do you think 40 grand will last us?' I asked.

'Not long enough', Cleo replied, 'for getting a jewel like that, we should be paid millions, not chicken change'. Unfortunately, we were the pawns of a cruel organization, but the only organization that fed us. Ninety-five per cent of our work required us on the field, risking our lives.

'When's the next job?'

'Amy, you've got more targets on you than a dart board. You shouldn't do the next job anytime soon', Cleo advised.

'But you always come to my rescue, right?'

'I can't keep doing that for yo ass. I'll get caught one day. Then what? You think Acosta cares?' Sigh.

'I've always wondered what it would be like if we just went solo...' I daydreamed, slurping up the thick whipped cream. Becoming our own bosses couldn't feel any sweeter... except for that stench! 'Cleo...'

'Chiquita'.

'Why do you have a picture of this asshole on your phone?!' it was a profile shot of the detective who almost starved me to death, the same detective that dedicated his life to hunting me down. Scrolling through her phone, I found a whole gallery of him. 'Are you obsessed with this cop or something?'

'It's because', her voice grew hesitant, 'I probably should've told you this a long time ago. He's my half-brother'.

'Half-brother – what?! What do you mean half-brother?'

'Sergio Valdez. I was doing some investigations on him a long time ago, and found we have the same mother'. Like me, Cleodora Martinez had a unique backstory. Evaldina Valdez moved from Brazil to escape a trafficking mafia she previously worked for, and got married in Bluebridge, but eventually divorced. Five years after giving birth to Cleo, Evaldina was arrested. Before Cleo could become a victim to the system, Acosta took Cleo in, and that was how we grew up together.

'Do you still visit your mom in prison?' I asked.

'Yeah. She's got fourteen years left of her sentence but could make it out much sooner. And Ima be the first person to greet her when she does. I'll take her right to my penthouse when I have one'. Granted, Brazil was rich in diversity, having all kinds of racial combinations, but Cleo and the detective looked nothing alike. I still couldn't believe they were blood related.

'Does he know...?'

'Who?'

'Your brother?' Again, Cleo grew hesitant. Topics that came to family or history related affairs was a straight turn off, because we came from broken families. I had zero recollections of my family line, and no info to work with. Blank. All I knew was the mafia system.

'I don't know. I've never spoken to him'.

'Do you want him to know?'

'Chica', Cleo slowed down and shot her eyes at me, 'of course I do, but he's a cop. I can't just turn up and be like: hey, it's me, your half-sister, I'm a thief and I work for Acosta. First, he'll be confused, then he'll probably arrest me'.

'Awesome'.

'I figured out where he lives and left a message for him. Hopefully he got the message'.

'What was the message?'

'A stuffed pony'. I smirked, almost snorting up my milkshake.

'A stuffed pony? What if he thought it was a bomb then threw it out?'

'I wrapped it with a fabric our mother owned. I also left co-ordinates inside. He'll figure it out, I know it'. Cleo constantly peered through the review mirror. 'Hey Amy, this car has been following us for a long time now...' I turned around. It was a black Toyota Prius.

'Mmmmh. Looks like an Uber'.

'No', Cleo asserted, gradually speeding up. She took a left. It followed. 'Shit'. They were onto us. Shifting gears, Cleo stepped on the gas until we were almost past the speed limit. But the black car steadily tailed us. 'Who is that?!'

'I...' from here it was impossible to get a good look '...I don't know'.

'Do you think you can do that thing with your powers – make us disappear?!' Cleo requested.

'What?! Cleo, I told you – I don't know how that works!'. As we approached the traffic lights, Cleo just about crossed through amber as the follower was caught by the red light. Every passing minute from there, I either checked the review mirror or twisted to check our rear. My eyes were sharp. 'Amy, can you see it?'

'No. We lost it'. Phew. Relief.

Upon arrival at our new safe house on a hill, we made ourselves comfortable, firstly by shutting all the blinds. Then, we installed frequency blockers. Framed with weeping willow trees with tilted trunks, the house was theatrical. From the roof of the apartment, I could see Bluebridge cityscape, framed with faded mountains, and deep blue skies. This illusion of freedom I felt from the top, I wanted it to be real, and last forever. No cops. No bosses. No gang members, or the need to steal precious things; that's the freedom I wanted.

From the weeping trees that blew in my direction, leaves kept blowing in my eyes, and sticking to my hair, then a little flower fell into my open palm. But something weird happened. Through my veins I could feel a chemical rush. It levitated the flower and surrounded it with an electro-magnetic force. Why did I feel the urgency to protect this delicate but lifeless flower from the wind?

'Amy?' Cleo called me from inside, wondering where I was. I opened the fridge. Rudely greeted by the four corners of emptiness, and a grumbling stomach, I offered to buy food from the closest convenience store; the gas station. 'Don't get kidnapped', was Cleo's only instruction to me.

Wearing my hoodie up, I cycled my way to the gas station. Skimming through the aisles for packs of ramen, frozen chips and the fastest microwave food I could find, I almost stumbled across some creatures I didn't want to meet, the police. Again?! It was that detective, with one of his cop friends, Kai. They interrogated the store owner. Breaking the pin-drop silence, I accidentally dropped a pack of ramen. Then I tilted over the aisle dropping a row of canned peaches.

'Shoot!' before they could spot me, I eclipsed behind the confectionary aisle, then heard footsteps approaching my aisle. Why?! I just wanted to pay for my food and go. Breathe. Slow and steadily, I crept to the end of the aisle hoping to go unnoticed.

'Excuse me, miss?' my back was turned to them, 'is everything alright?' I froze.

'Err yeah', then cleared my throat, 'all good', changing my voice. Dropping wet peach cans then trying to walk away, I probably looked retarded to them, but by my usual dress code, it didn't take them long to realise it was me.

'You!' Sergio shouted. I rolled my eyes, 'turn around, slowly – and drop the basket!' I dropped the basket, then with my hands up, I turned around. Cleo gave me one instruction, and I wasn't about to fail her again. 'Just can't seem to stay hidden can you, Amy?'

'Not from you at least, detective', my grin always made them uncomfortable, no matter what the situation. 'Where's your lady friend, the one who dozed off in the office? Is she still on surveillance?'

'What a sense of charisma you have', Sergio grumbled quickly approaching with his cuffs. Before I could predict what would happen next, the chemical rush came again, and before he could touch me, I teleported. In the blink of an eye, I crashed three meters away into the bakery shelf at the front of the store.

'What the –' when I got up, I felt as light as air. Left in shock, the cops still tried to comprehend a move even I didn't know I could do. Teleportation. Before their eyes could locate me, I ran. As fast as I could, I cycled back to the hideout.

Arriving at the top of the hill, huffing and puffing in desperation, I noticed from a distance that the hideout was compromised, blocked with yellow tape. Three or four police cars, and a gathering of forensics surrounded the house...

Cleo!