Chapter Text
Special Agent Emma Swan stood with her hands on her hips, her fingers drumming on her badge, as she stared at the art showroom. Empty, except for one corked glass bottle with a rolled up piece of paper inside. She was getting real sick of this guy’s stupid calling card. Most of the art thieves she went after weren’t brazen enough to create a public identity for themselves. Scope out the mark, pull the heist, disappear, fence the prize – that was the usual gig.
But this guy? This guy had to show off. Normally showboating thieves were easy to catch, but this one had eluded her for nearly a year now. Agent Swan stooped down to pick up the bottle, glared at it for a moment, and uncorked it.
At first, the pages stuffed into the bottle just had the drawing of a skull and crossbones on it, signed The Captain; but as of three heists ago, he’d been writing out messages to her directly. Emma growled as she saw that the letter was, once again, addressed to The Lovely Agent Swan.
At first, she’d found the whole pirate motif cheesy and immature, but after so long it just grew to irritate her. Other agents began to snicker behind her back that she was being outwitted by a man who watched a few too many pirate movies for his own good. When the stupid calling cards had become flirty, the mockery only grew.
Emma wanted to crumple up the note before even reading it, but it was evidence. She didn’t hold her breath hoping for clues, though.
Have you had the fortune of seeing Botticelli’s the Birth of Venus, dear Agent Swan? It often reminds me of you, though I must confess you’d make a more fetching subject than Aphrodite standing there in that seashell. As of the moment I’m much too busy for the thought to be anything other than an idle daydream. But who knows? Perhaps someday I’ll paint the scene after all.
Until such a day, enjoy chasing me as much I as enjoy being chased by you.
~ The Captain
This time he stole a renaissance painting of a ship, right out from under the nose of a private art collection. The building boasted top notch security, but the Captain had triggered no alarms, left no fingerprints, disturbed no other art, and yet the massive wall-sized painting was gone.
After some digging, Emma found that the security footage had been tampered with, and witnesses reported an unregistered white van leaving the building in the early hours of the morning. But, as always, there was nothing concrete to work with. Emma hated having to wait for the Captain to make his next move. She hated constantly being two steps behind the elusive pirate. But most of all, she hated the cocky, flirtatious tauntings he left behind just for her.