The Cat Burglar

It was all going so well that I should have known something was wrong. But I had done my due diligence and cased the joint for weeks. I knew where the cameras were, the patrol routes of the guards, and what kinds of locks were used on the doors. I got confident and I got caught, but not by the police. Jail time would have been so much easier. They let you out of jail, eventually, in most cases. I don't know if I'll ever be free again.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me start at the beginning. My name is Kathryn Bell, and I'm a thief. Well, was a thief? I don't know what I am now. A toy? Or maybe I'm just an example for anyone else who would dare to try and steal from Anthony Belli. In my line of work, everyone knew Belli's name. He was affiliated with organized crime, but too well connected to be arrested by the police. People that were set to testify against him had a habit of vanishing. In short, he's a bad man. And, unfortunately for me, a creative pervert.

I didn't know that the museum was one of many legitimate fronts for his dirty dealings. Who ever heard of a mobster owning a museum!? But he did, and the jewel I stole was his. I said everyone in my line of work knew Belli's name. As it turned out, Belli knew me too. Well enough that he knew what I was planning just from watching security footage of me scoping the museum out. Well enough that his goons were waiting in my apartment as I returned triumphantly home after the heist. They took me for a car ride.

My feet barely touched the ground as they dragged me from the car to Belli's office. I was intimidated, to say the least. Belli is Italian for beautiful, and was therefore an extremely ironic name for him. He held up a finger at me, and finished a phone call. I didn't know whether to be insulted or glad to have a moment to try and prepare myself. In either case, I still wasn't ready when he hung up the phone.

"You stole from me Ms. Bell. Can I call you Kathryn?"

"Uh, yes, please do. And I'm sorry, I didn't…"

He shushed me with a sausage finger to his lips.

"That don't matter. An example has to be made. Can I call you Kitty?"

"Please," I blurted, ignoring his question. "Here, you can have it back."

I rummaged through my satchel for the gem, Belli's goons drawing their guns in case I tried something stupid. I found the stone and held it out to him. His eyes flicked to the mammoth diamond disinterestedly before coming back to mine.

"And how would I explain why I had it to the cops? You tripped a silent alarm, and I had to report it stolen." His meaty jowls grew red. "And you want to hand it to me!? That does me no good. You have to put it back yourself. And, you ignored my question. Rude at the best of times and EXTREMELY STUPID IN YOUR SITUATION!" He glared at me, panting, and then straightened his tie. "Now. Can I call you Kitty?"

My jaw hung open. I was flabbergasted at the raw rage that had erupted from nowhere and disappeared just as fast, I hoped. I nodded dumbly.

"Yes. You can call me Kitty."

"That's good. That's the right attitude. You just might have some kind of a life after this. Doc," he said, his grey eyes focusing over my shoulder at a man in a lab coat. "Take Ms. Kitty the Cat Burglar here and get her dressed."

"Dressed? Dressed in what?" I managed weakly. I never heard the doctor move close, and could do nothing as I felt him plunge a syringe into my neck. Things got fuzzy quickly. One of the goons that had brought me there caught me as my knees buckled. The last thing I saw before unconsciousness claimed me was Belli grinning down at me. The last thing I heard was, "The last outfit you'll ever wear."