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The Thief

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I don't know what it is.
But I like it.
I like the feeling of getting away with something. Going around the law. Beating the government in a battle of wits, as it were.
A lot of people have passions. Its human nature. You can't arrest me for having a passion, even if it is illegal.
Being a thief is a passion of mine.
It didn't start out as a passion, mind you, of course not. UIT started much simpler, a game. I was eleven years old, and all I wanted was a candy bar. My dear loving mother wouldn't let me have it though. So UI took matters into my own hands. I robbed the old lady blind (in disguise of course) snatched the candy from the counter and left the money. so you see, it started out really innocently. I didn't even rob the store, and I gave my mother back the money.
But somehow, I couldn't forget the rush that had come over me when I was the robber. So I tried again.
Weeks later, I was in school, and casually took an eraser from the pencil case of a friend. I wasn't planning on keeping it, but something told me I should. All of a sudden, I was enamoured by the idea of stealing. IT became an obsession, I had to steal. First, little trinkets from friends houses, to books and games from stores.
I became a master of disguise, from the front, I was a man, from the back, a child, from the side, a woman. In stature, I was an old person, but I could run like a man in his peak of fitness. I developed many accents, that became more pronounced as the value of the things I stole rose. I was smart, cunning, charming, and sweet. I could charm answers and locations out of anyone. I was brilliant, unstoppable. At age 17, I had stolen about $2,000,000 worth of goods and cold hard cash.
My biggest plot yet was coming up fast. I was going to steal Bill Gates' original computer. I had figured out how to get in and out without being seen. I followed him around for months. I knew his routine step by step.
The hard part was getting the goods. The computer was locked away, somewhere in the home, in a vault. He visited it once a month. I knew the code.
I made it in, easy. for such a rich man, you'd think he would have splurged on better security.
Anyway, I'm in. The elevator seemed like a good alternative to the stairs, which were winding and drafty and went down four stories. However, I wanted as little of myself on camera as I could get. So down the stairs I ascended.
I made it to the door of the vault. The code was 12, 14, 86, 2, three, and then a bunch of random gibberish that only a computer or Bill Gates himself could decode. Luckily, I had a computer.
I was in.
The room was empty except for the computer. In my confidence and haste, I didn't look for further security modules. I laid one finger on the computer and suddenly, a thousand alarms went off at once.

I almost got away with it.



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