Theif

         Theif, that was the only name he'd ever owned. He had been hunted by every form of law in the United states. The FBI wanted to throw him in a cell while the CIA wanted to recruit him. He would not get involved with either.  He was planning his next heist. It was a cold winters night in manhattan when his plan started to proceed. He was standing in central park, waiting for the right time. He wore a chocolate brown trenchcoat, black gloves, and a fedora darker than midnight. On his right thigh rested his trusted partner, a suppresed Berretta M9. The gun was much less dangerous than it's owner, who emenated a dark feeling of despair. Thief checked his watch, 9:15pm, time to go. He quickly ducked in an alley and went to work on the lock. This was his target, a building that held the financial records of millions, but he was after only one of these.
To be continued(soon)