Yes, this story is in Arabic! Can't you tell? I mean reeeeaaally! *role eyes* Obviously it's English! No insult intended to anyone in Arabia or anywhere else in middle east!

Sense my ideas for my other stories are now inaccessible, for the time being, I've decided that I would start up this one that's been in my head for a while.

A figure lurked in the shadows above the Bank of London. It wasn't a child, nor was it an adult. It was male, but too skinny for his size. The figure waited, watching the security guard through the sunroof for only half a minute as the man did his normal routine throughout the bank. Quietly, the boy opened one of the panels, and slipped inside to the beams above. Just as a gymnast, he scaled above the hard, stone floor without miss stepping and falling thirty four yards to his death.

The boy lightly jumped from the beam to the second floor of offices that wrapped around the edge of the room. As he stood from his crouching position, the moonlight from the window he just climbed in shown on his face.

His black hair held small curls all over his head and was definitely a young man. If anyone had seen him, they may have guessed eighteen. Of course they'd be wrong, but, you can't expect armatures to know very much. His hazy, blue-gray eyes scanned the room below. His cheekbones sat high on his young face. His attire was simple; a white, button-up shirt, black trousers, and rubber-soled, black shoes. A devilish smile crossed the teen boys' lips as he saw how easy it'd be.

Naturally, as though it were typical for the boy, he casually walked to the stairs, and smirked. He climbed onto the banister on the side, and slid down as though he were a small child. Jumping off the end, his feet never made a sound as he hit the floor. Where there should have been a slapping noise, or even a light thump, there was silence.

With his hands in the front pockets of his trousers, he strode through the large, empty room, only lit by the moon above, as though he were walking down the street, or through the halls of a school. As he came upon the recipient's desk, he flippantly placed his hand on the desk, and jumped off the ground.

'Too easy!" The boy though smugly as he landed on the other side of the desk. It was all too simple! "Too simple…" The boy murmured to himself as he looked over his shoulder and around the room again. Seeing nothing in the dusk, he turned back to the safe in front of him.

Like all bank vaults, it was made of steel-reinforced concrete; a material not substantially different from the stuff they use in construction work. As all others, it would rely on its immense thickness for strength. If it were a vault from the 20th century, it would be 18 inches think. But this was the modern age, and people aren't so stupid as to make vaults incredulously thick so they can't be moved. In this modern era, people typically make them of modular concrete panels using a special proprietary blend of concrete and additives for extreme strength; that concrete having been specially engineered for maximum crush resistance. This means that they only have to be 3 inches thick, and are still stronger.

On the middle of the door, there was a large handle, to make opening the safe a little easier. The long rods jetted out in different directions. Above that sat the combination dial to unlock the large vault.

'Four numbers… Four numbers…" He repeated in his head as he looked around on the nearest desks. Most were neat and orderly, as expected. But one desk was cluttered with papers. Upon closer observation, each paper was just a slip, torn off from the rest of the page, and on each slip was quickly jotted down notes of random things that might be seen on a to-do list. This person was obviously new to working at the bank, and was trying to get adjusted. From the looks of it, her memory wasn't so good. Yes, 'her', the hand writing is too small and organized for a man. Yes, a man could make this kind of mess, but his hand writing would match. Of course, so would a women's, if that's how they were all the time, but from the looks of the perfume bottle sitting on the desk, she had just gotten the job.

'Just the thing I was looking for!' He though triumphantly to himself as he began to sort through all the papers. 'If she's just started working here, and doesn't have a very good memory, than she wouldn't remember the vault code, which would mean… AH HAH!' He held up the torn off corner of a page that had the code.

70 Left

20 Right

90 Left

10 Right

He stepped back over to the safe, and turned the dial counter clockwise till the small arrow pointed to the seventy, then clockwise till it pointed to twenty, then back to ninety, and finished at ten. There was a hardly audible 'click' and the boy pulled on the door. It was heavier than expected, but that didn't stop him. He exerted his energy till the door was open enough it fit three of him through. The vault was full of smaller safes, open able by keys. 'Simple bit of lock picking…' He pulled a hair pin from his curls, chose a box, and inserted it to the lock. It took a bit of time, but the small door finally opened. There was at least fifteen hundred tanner lying in that safe.

He replaced the pin back in his hair, and carelessly grabbed a few of the tanner, which would equal up to about two hundred tanner later, and walked towards the exit of the vault.

As he got closer to the door, he realized that it was closing. 'How could I have been so stupid?' He though anxiously as he bolted for the door. The door was centimeters from being locked, and that only made the anxiety worse.

The door slammed shut, leaving the young boy captive in the vault.

On the other side of the door, two officers leaned against the heavy, metal door.

"We did it! We finally caught the little weasel!" One yelled, part excited, part stunned.

"Sssshhhhh!" The other one said, holding his finger to his lips. "Don't jinx it! The Yard has been trying to catch this guy for months! Every time someone says that, he gets away!"

"Well, how can he get away now? He's trapped in a three inch thick 'prison', isn't he?" The other asked, wondering how he kept getting away.

After a pause, the two looked at each other with fearful glances. "What if he did get out? Would we be punished for it?"

"I… I don't think so. It wouldn't be our fault!"

"Should we check? Make sure he's in there? I mean, they don't call him a ghost for nothing!"

"Yeah. Yeah, we should check. Back-up is already on their way, might as well make sure it's not for nothing. This whole trap was difficult to put together. Hope it's not for nothing."

The two slowly turned to face the vault. They slowly put in the code, and looked at each other before opening the vault. With the door only slightly open, they poked their heads inside to look around. The boy was nowhere in sight.

Fear gripped both of them. "Maybe… maybe he's just hiding. Getting ready to jump out and scare us." One suggested hopefully.

From outside the vault, both felt a hard kick to the rear, and were forced inside. The door closed behind them as they started to panic.

The boy stood outside the closed vault door, laughing to himself. 'Those boorish dweebs at the Yard are so dense, it's sad!'

He strolled to the large front doors, and stepped off to the side, where an alarm was "hidden". It didn't take much to disarm it, and once it was safe, he simply walked out.

"FREEZE!" A man ordered. Looking out, there was a crowd of officers and police cars in front of him, and blocking his way to the side. Sighing in defeat, the boy raised his empty hands above his head in surrender.

Please let me know what you think! It will only take 5 seconds to write "That was really good!" Of course, I would like you to tell me WHAT you liked about it, but that would probably only take about another 5-10 seconds.