Rodney Skinner surveyed the building critically. This one was going to be difficult. It wasn't going to be a simple matter of finding a window that someone carelessly left open. No, this was going to be a real break and enter. With emphasis on the break part. He rolled his shoulders and gave a small sigh. Time to get a-moving.
Anyone foolish enough to out at this time of night would have been greeted with the sight of a battered backpack floating through the air, seemingly unsupported. The backpack drifted over to the gate of the flashy house and paused for a moment. It then lowered itself to the ground and opened.
The invisible man reached inside the backpack and drew out a lock pick. A very handy device he'd pick-pocketed off a fellow thief who'd let down his guard for a mere second. A few moments of fiddling, and he heard the satisfying sound of a lock clicking open. Skinner allowed himself a grin. Phase one, complete.
The thief padded up to the front door, keeping an eye open for the sound of dogs. Blasted critters didn't need to see him. They could sniff him out just fine. Something he'd found out on a rather disastrous robbery. He'd only just made it out.
Luckily this place didn't seem to have any, or they were all taking a nap. Skinner bit his lip thoughtfully as he eyed the house. How should he get in? Through the door? Through the window? He decided to go for the window. The door was probably locked more securely than the gate. Possibly even had an alarm.
Skinner prowled the outside of the wall, looking for a suitable window to break into. About eight metres away from the door, he found the perfect target. It seemed to lead into a dining area, or something of the sort. Skinner delved into his trusty bag again, this time pulling out a crowbar.
He gently pushed the bar into position, then gave it a sharp jerk. The window sprung open with a CRACK! Skinner froze for a moment, holding his breath. There was no sound, no sudden movement. No one had awoken. Skinner let out the breath he'd been holding.
He swung the bag in first, and then climbed in after it. It was dark, almost pitch-back. Perfect conditions for his work, provided he didn't knock anything over, or walk into something.
Skinner took two steps forwards – then froze as light flooded the room. He stared around in shock, only to see he was surrounded by tough-looking men. Someone had been expecting him.
The someone strolled forwards, a smug smile on their face. He seemed to be some snooty fellow, dressed in fine clothes, a trim little moustache that only accented the man's smirk.
"Ah, Mr Rodney Skinner, I presume?"
How the hell did this guy know his name? Sure, Skinner had a reputation, but it wasn't attached to a name. He was just the unseen thief to most. Yet this arrogant man knew his name – first and last.
He decided to stay quiet. If he could just dump the bag, then they wouldn't be able to see him at all, and he'd be able to make a break for it. He began edging it to the ground, very slowly.
"Nothing to say, Mr Skinner? What a pity. But I do have something to say."
Keep calm, just keep lowering the bag, not too fast or he'll notice...
"You know better than anyone about your unique – ability."
Ability my foot. Don't get distracted, get ready to drop the bag and run like mad...
"Britain is in trouble."
Whoopee do, tell someone who cares. On the count of three...
"We need people like you."
One...
"People with abilities like yours."
Two...
"Thus I have a proposition to make."
Three!