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Bang is an onomatopoeia, and those are her favorite words. She considers onomatopoeias better than even adverbs. Most of the thieves of which she's associated thought that since she didn't speak, she had no appreciation of language.
Stephen and Bloom have an understanding of the importance of the sounds of words, and they have never spoken to her as if she were dumb or incompetent. They have a rare quality about them, they hold the same weight as a perfectly executed explosion. She doesn't mind spending her time around them.
She is fluent in five languages and American sign, and can decipher more from the pauses in conversation than the words themselves. When she was nineteen, she decided that she would communicate only with silence and through song. But even songs are too revealing, so she speaks only to strangers and the people she trusts. She doesn't trust.
Sometimes, it is hard to be around the others in her profession when she can see so easily how deeply they are rotten. Stephen is greedy, just a bit above the average level, and Bloom is fragile like handmade paper.
Penelope, when she talks, uses no guises. Penelope has an appreciation of talent, and of combustion; and all of Penelope's feelings are broadcast in musical hums that are used to punctuate her favorite words and meaningful statements. That's rare, harder to find than even a pair of sibling con men with no desire to inspire pain in their marks.
She gave Penelope her phone number, and sometimes they will text. The last person to whom she offered that privilege used it to try and engage in conversation with her constantly, craving the written reply. But Penelope has learned to decipher her physical movement as if those were her words, the phone is barely used.
Everyone acts differently when there is treasure involved, and even she is not immune. She knows the way that Bloom looks at her, and she has heard the way that Penelope yearns, and she has watched Stephen with the both of them.
It is simply too dangerous to stay around them, and that is logic. And she could go at any time, with any explosion or passing car, or with a convenient hole. She likes them as much as she likes anyone, but that's not worth enough to be stuck in.
One day, (she doesn't remember which one) she woke up and realized that she was not bound by anything, and every rule that had constricted her had been meaningless all along. And that was when she got rid of her name. After, it became difficult for people to notice her, but that proved to be a good thing.
She doesn't need a name.
Actually, she doesn't need much of anything at all.
She chooses everything that she wants. Barbies, because she likes to watch them fry. Penelope, because she is so very earnest. Explosions, because they are so satisfying.
She catches a ride on the back of a passing truck, fire lapping gently at her back, and is nameless and free.