Search the warehouse for clues

The warehouse is eerily silent now.

Velvet Vixen moves through it like a ghost in gold, still catching her breath, her every step echoing across the concrete floors. The henchgirl she knocked out earlier lies sprawled and snoring in the garage. Kendrick pauses just long enough to roll her onto her side, zip-tie her wrists with a cable she finds nearby, and slap a “Time’s Up, Toots” note to her chest—just for style points.

“That one’s for the bag-over-the-head stunt,” she mutters.

She makes her way back to the large oak worktable in the main lounge, the one where Cleo Capone had been plotting before everything went sideways. It’s a mess of papers—schedules, notes, blueprints, sticky notes in red lipstick, and at least one crumpled napkin scrawled with “STICK-UP IDEA — daycare heist??” (She sets that one aside with a baffled grimace.)

But the rest?

Oh, the rest is gold.

Kendrick’s eyes dart between the documents—highlighted bus routes, city hall maintenance schedules, a security patrol calendar for a bank exhibit, and an RSVP list for a private gala happening... tomorrow night.

“Of course,” she murmurs. “If you can’t rob what’s rolling… you rob what’s already locked up.”

She spreads out the blueprints—downtown Westville’s historic First Bank Museum, currently running an exclusive exhibit on vintage currency and priceless treasury notes from the 1800s.

There’s a post-it marked “The Vault Room – Stage Entrance?”

Cleo Capone isn’t done. She’s just shifted gears.