The Silver Fox

The Legend

of the

Silver Fox



By: Andrew Wisniewsky













CHAPTER 1:

2:OO AM, London

         Cold gusts of wind blew across the nighttime skyline of London, the city feverishly caught in winters frosty grasp. Small flakes of snow floated down past tall skyscrapers, unto the moist streets below. Policemen strolled down the street, going about their business, unaware of the historical heist going on right under their noses.

         Inside the concrete jungle of the city, there was a quaint woodland area, a small area to escape into nature. It was pitch black, the trees shading the bright lights of the city like a forest of umbrellas. The Neilson and Jones Art Museum sat quaintly in the middle, silent at the late hour. It was a short, densely packed concrete building surrounded by stern, ever-watchful security guards making their rounds lazily around the complex. The building had a main center, with multiple branching wings to all side, filled with valuable artwork. A giant glass dome spread out over the main building, adding a touch of beauty to an otherwise dull building.

         The architect of the museum never considered that the glass roof of this building could be exploited as an easy entry way into the museum by a daring thief. Fortunately, the security team had noticed that flaw, so they laid down an impossibly intricate web of infrared lasers shooting from wall to wall inside the dome. Dozens of security guards patrolled the pristine inside of the museum, backed up by countless security cameras, silently watching the museum. The whole museum was a nightmare for any normal thief, a sure way to get caught. Unfortunately for the museum that night, it was in the sights of a thief that was anything from ordinary.

         If you looked closely at the massive tree overlooking the museum, you would notice a still figure attached to one of the giant branches, silently watching over the complex. This figure stood 6 feet tall, with a slim, yet muscular frame. A black hood wrapped around his head, attached to a cloak over the body. Black cargo pants and black boots covered the lower half of his body. A small bag was attached to his back. He had slim, ever-vigilant glimmering blue eyes and a confident smirk, covered by a pearlescent silver mask. The enigmatic figure known throughout the world as the legendary Silver Wolf.

         He gazed upon the entrance to the museum, savoring the thrill before the heist. He took a deep, calming breath, and smoothly dropped from the large branch into a free fall, then nimbly landing on top of the large glass dome covering the museum. He quickly scurried over to the top of the dome, and took out a small, incredibly sharp knife, that he used to cut a perfect circle in the dome. He moved the piece out of the way, and activated infrared goggles. He dissected the web of infrared lasers like a surgeon, picking out the quickest way to the floor.

         He wrapped the cloak around his arms, and nosedived into the small hole in the dome, falling head first into the lasers. He meticulously adjusted his body by millimeters at a time to avoid any contact with the infrared beams. He completely avoided the lasers, and landed on the only blind spot in the entire museum with an acrobatic roll, making no noise. The room he landed in was the largest room in the museum, it was round, with paintings hanging across all the walls, with various benches for tourists to rest. He silently surveyed the situation, checking to make sure the guards were on schedule. One guard walked by, completely oblivious to who else was in the room with him.

         He reached into his bag, and took out a small electronic tablet, with no company insignia or any recognizable features. It was small and black, with an antenna poking out of the top of it. It was a top of the line black-market temporary security disabling device, banned in every country across the globe. It was one of a kind, built by the Silver Wolf himself.  He pointed the antenna at the camera, and rapidly started typing unto the tablet, and within moments, he had control of the camera. He repeated the same process with the other camera in the room. Once he controlled the camera’s, he short circuited both of the lenses, so that the guards monitoring the camera’s would see the exact picture they were seeing at that moment, and would keep seeing that picture, effectively hiding The Silver Wolf from the cameras.

         Once he was satisfied with the guards current locations, he looked up at his prize, Jonathon Navarro’s masterpiece, The Storm. This priceless painting could be sold for a fortune, and was admired by hundreds every day. It depicted the ocean during a powerful Hurricane, with beautiful brushstrokes perfectly recreating the harshness of a storm of that magnitude.          It was the most well guarded painting in the entire museum, carefully surrounded with 2 security cameras(although those were no longer a problem), and infrared lasers across the floor. The painting itself was tightly locked up in a glass case, with 3 different locks and a motion detector. The legendary thief smirked, this would be his easiest theft in months.

         He reached back into his knapsack, and took out a small gun with a hook coming out of the barrel. He aimed, and fired the hook attached to rope across the room, it made a quiet thud as it landed squarely on the decorative chandelier hanging above the painting. He secured the gun to a nearby table leg with a picture perfect knot, and he jumped up and grabbed the rope with his legs and hands, and started working his way across the room.

         He arrived at the other end of the room, and silently dropped down unto the floor, right next to the Storm painting. He glanced at the 3 locks that were supposed to keep him out and chuckled. He quickly bypassed all 3 locks without breaking a sweat, and swiped the key card he had “acquired” from the museum director earlier in the day, disabling the motion detector.

         He quickly opened up the case, and looked over the painting, After squashing the 3 microscopic tracking beacons the guards had attached to the painting hoping they could track it down if it was ever stolen, he rolled it up and put it in his bag, replacing it with a single lock of white fur from an arctic fox, his calling card. He climbed the rope back over to the entrance to the room, and crawled under the table.

         There, he moved away the floor tile to reveal the tunnel he had created a few days earlier, and crawled down into the darkness, putting the tile back behind him seconds before a guard walked into the room. He arrived outside the museum seconds before the alarm sounded. He climbed back up the giant, 100 foot tree where he had first started the heist. Once at the top of the tree, he once again opened up his knapsack to reveal a tiny paraglide. He put it on, and leapt off the tree, gliding through the air like an eagle. He veered away from the main, guard infested entrance of the museum, and instead glided smoothly over the fence protecting the side entrance to the complex, landing in the parking lot of a nearby McDonalds.

         He then casually packed up his glider, and strolled over to the pitch black Lamborghini parked in the far corner of the parking lot. He put the painting in the backseat, and after picking up a burger from the drive through, he drove off into the night, the only trace of his presence in London was in the form of a small piece of fur, resting in the former home of the classic painting, The Storm.