The man who sat at the freshly polished antiquate oaken desk could not be a day older than twenty. Perhaps, at a lengthy push, twenty one. With a mischievous grin and a roughish twinkle in his milky, baby blue eyes he had Mr. Roy Harris quite frankly bemused by his very presence in the safety deposit bank.
It was a bank which, in its entirety, restricted its clientèle to the absurdly rich and illustriously powerful. Both of these requirements all but ensured that any custom which the bank saw was comprised of either elderly businessmen or politicians and their descendants. This... Boy met neither of the latter two expectations.
Which is precisely the reason which the man was scrutinised so thoroughly as he drummed his fingers softly on the desk.
He had long, clean hair, caught somewhere between blonde and brown. It was carefully brushed out of his wide and wild eyes, though its position was precarious, it seemed as if the slightest movement would cause his hair to fall and cover them.
A days worth of stubble covered the lower half of his face, though strangely it seemed to grant him a certain roughish style rather than simply making him look lazy or dirty.
His clothes were expensive, that could be reasoned on even a cursory glance. The suit was black, double breasted, and tightly fitted. The shirt was also black, with ornate gold cuff links visible every time the gentleman lifted his arm off the desk, even momentarily. His tie was crimson, and clearly silk. Curiously, in spite of his highly formal suit he wore a pair of garish red trainers, which appeared to match his tie in colour nicely, but instantly threw a traditional, conservative dresser such as Mr. Harris off guard.
"And your name is... Roald Haxons you say sir?" Harris prompted after roughly clearing his throat. His voice betrayed his scepticism regarding the young man's claim. The man calling himself Haxons merely smiled.
As woefully fat man, Mr. Harris was clearly suffering from the lack of adequate air conditioning in the large lavish building. The younger was clearly enjoying seeing his apparent elder in the state of discomfort.
After an awkward pause of several seconds, the young man spoke, withdrawing from the inner pocket of his extravagant suit a small object which Harris could not fully see. "Indeed I am my good man, and I have the papers to prove it."
Before any objections could be raised, the young man tossed a small leather wallet on to the desk. The grin widened as the fat man read the contents. The man, appearing to have been confirmed as Roald Haxons by the suddenly enthusiastic demeanour of Harris, leant back contentedly in the lush leather chair.
"Now, may I see my vault?" The young man asked happily, bounding suddenly out of the seat with frightening enthusiasm. Harris, taken aback by the sudden and erratic movements of his customer, saw it prudent to leave after wiping the sweat off of his brow with a stylishly fancy handkerchief and passing a card key to his antagonist.
Snatching the wallet off of the table, the young man strolled casually down the hallway, the insane grin now as wide as it was physically possible for it to be.
After several seconds of walking, humming a melodic song to himself as he did so, the young man reached his destination.
Waving cheerily to the stone-faced security guard who possessed the second key card, the man slid his half into the the key reader. A split second later, the guard followed suit.
It took several moments for the vault to open fully. When it finally did, the young man let out an uncontrollable, maniac laugh.
"Finally." He breathed as he stepped inside the great room. Once inside, the door began the arduous process of closing.
Savouring the moment, the man took a long, deep breath before surveying his surroundings. The high security vault was filled with nothing more than a random collection of junk.
Or at least that is how it appeared to the untrained eye.
His face now entirely serious, the young man marched purposefully over to the corner of the room, where he snatched up a small, light brown object.
Muttering incoherently to himself, the man then began to pick up more random objects from around the room. Finally, when satisfied, he began his task.
"Stratify the plasmic shell... Modifying dimensional stabilisers... Haha!"
Finally, with the work complete, the man placed the brown object onto the makeshift creation. Biting his lower lip in anticipation, the youth slowly reached out and pressed a large red button on the assembled machine.
"Ooh! Still a stickler for drama I guess!" He bellowed heartily to himself as the machine sprung into life. Humming loudly, wisps of clear white lightning began to circle the object, causing a transformation in the little object.
The change was far from sudden, but it was certainly noticeable. The thing in the centre of the machine began to grow at an exponential rate. Pallid streaks of lightning shot out of it, barely missing the man, who did not seem at all phased by its presence.
Laughing insanely, he grabbed the object from the machine and tossed it calmly into the air. In a sudden flash, it was gone.
In its place, falling to earth was a large metal box. Eyes wide and wild, manic laughter still billowing forth, the man began to observe his creation.
It appeared simple. The object was around five feet in height, made of steel and entirely plain. The object was an abnormally large safety deposit box. Breathing heavily with pure excitement, the man pulled open the door to the box and punched the air with sheer joy. Rubbing his hands together, he stepped inside the box and began to look around.
The box was absurdly larger on the inside, though the man did not seem at all surprised by this. The walls of the interior, unlike that of the exterior, appeared to be composed of some strange kind of coral, covered in embellished roundels. Gargantuan pillars extended to the high roof. The floor was made of a mesh of a curious, iron-like metal.
Despite the wonders of the room, all paled in comparison to the magnificent object in the centre of the room. A great console, with a massive tube in the centre extending all the way to the roof. Around the tube, extending from the ground, was a control panel, with an obscene number of buttons and switches.
Basking momentarily in the green glow of the room, the man, in another of his erratic and ludicrously fast movements, leapt forwards, landing right in front of the circular console. Clapping his hands together with unrestrained glee, he began flipping switches in a seemingly random order and pressing any button which interested him, however briefly.
After several seconds of doing such, he twirled himself around and began to rub his hands together once more.
"Oh yes! Fully functioning, ready for anything... Haha! Even the chameleon circuit is working at maximum capacity, take that Doctor!"
Like a small child, the man gleefully began to spin a small disk which protruded from the console. Holding his breath, he closed his eyes and grabbed a lever. Enjoying the smooth feel of the bar, he tightened his grip before pulling it down, as hard as he could, to the floor.
Inside the vault, the box began to fade, an unbearably loud humming noise following with it. After several seconds, it disappeared entirely, with no evidence that it had ever existed. The room, save for the makeshift machine and the other pieces of assorted junk was all that remained to suggest that the room had ever been used.