Crown and rainbow (Ashton)

Celeste changed the page abruptly almost severing it, the end was near and there was no mention of her little adventure. She took a moment to calm down, ready to unleash a scream that would tear the ears and the newspaper too, but at the last moment she found it. The article was very small. Hidden in the shadow of other mayor news. None of them more interesting than hers. But for some reason the press had given more importance to those robberies and murders. She did not know why.
The girl quickly finished the petite article. She did not like what she saw. She read it again more carefully, this time between lines, trying to find what she was looking for. Twelve cars. Painted cryptically. Pink. Fabric. Just the facts. Re-reading it would be pointless, the article was very small. It was impossible to lose something in that tiny amount of letters.
Not a single mention of the great artist that did it, not even a clever nickname worthy of a villain. Nothing.
Andrew was reading over her shoulder, he frowned clearly upset. "What's next? The Statue of Liberty?" He joked in an unkind tone while shaking his head in denial. Then he just walked away toward the kitchen. Obviously he did not agree with that kind of art.
Peter's words kept echoing in her head, causing a loud noise when they hit the invisible walls of her psyche. The noise gradually increased. It was impossible not to pay attention to those words. No one could help but notice the statue of liberty with another color, with a funnier color... but it would not be easy to paint that gargantuan lady. It was practically impossible. Too much security. It would take too long.
She leaned back in her comfy chair, defeated, letting that luxury object comfort her. She needed something to identify her, a sigil, a symbol, something. She needed to draw everybody attention. Her father attention.

The idea was growing inside her head slowly. Inadvertently she accepted and rejected her own ideas, in a competitive selection process that lasted days. When that idea finally grew up enough to be noticed, it was impossible to look away. She had her epiphany. The Queen would be her sigil.
What spectacular piece of art would use to release her sigil? Again, her imagination opened a competition attended by all her thought. One by one they were judged. Until finally, after a week of debate, the vote was unanimous.

The mysterious black van cruised the streets near Central Park for about one hour. It was a miracle that no one has reported it. The streets were empty. It was three in the morning. But there would be watchful eyes. Somewhere. They must start as soon as possible.
Inside the van, its members took their positions. Celeste and her faithful bodyguard Max were in the back. Of course she was there only to monitor, she would not stain her hands.
When they arrived to the interception, her new driver Malcolm slowed giving the order they expected.
At unison both opened the back doors of the van, the black doors began to shake with the movement in a dangerous dance.
Using an entire week of accumulated stress, Max began to pierce the paint barrels one on one with a sharp knife. Each time the instrument get out of the tough skin of the barrel, it was stained in a new color. When the task was done, he carelessly threw the knife.
Max put them up forming a wall. Standing there like a protective barrier. A wall of paint barrels of 5 gallons each. Red. Blue. Yellow. Side to side. Everything happened before the watchful eyes of Celeste. Everything seemed perfect. She was ecstatic watching the hypnotic cascade of colors. The barrels were bleeding without hesitation, spilling its contents onto the street, forming a small rainbow in its suffering. The van was moving slowly enough to form three homogeneous lines. Incredibly they reached the middle of Central Park without any problem. But it was time to change the barrels.