KingDubya
Mainstream Indie Rocker
Waking up at the normal time, one in the afternoon, Jon walked over to his computer. Sitting down at his desk, he cleared off all the junk, including an extremely old edition of "HTML for Dummies", and set his laptop on the flat surface. Plugging it in, he was temporarily blinded by the light that came from the screen. After loading it up, he hooked it into his phone line, cutting himself off from the rest of the world to continue his latest project, finding a way around the security measures in the nearby bank's network. He was desperately in need of money and he knew that this, excluding physically robbing the bank, was the only way he could get more.
Getting past the first barriers around the system, he thought to himself, "It can't be this easy." Passing barrier after barrier, he got all the way to his destination, the bank accounts, without having to break a mental sweat. The system prompted for a name, and he gave it his alias, "Johnson, Walter", and opened up the account. He upped the amount left in there from 10 dollars to 300. He knew it wasn't very subtle, but in these times, you can't afford to be subtle. Finishing the "transaction", Jon shut down the computer, unhooked it from the phone line, and stored his laptop away in his bag.
Turning on the TV, he watched the afternoon news for any highlights. Apparently, the news never changed. The same stories of bank robberies and killings came up frequently, along with some new ones. Then a new story caught his attention. It was about a bank that claimed that their security measures were the best in the state, that no one could hack into it and that if they did, the proper authorities would be contacted and would find the person quickly. That bank was the one nearby. Realizing the trouble he would soon be in, Jon grabbed his laptop and a few small possessions, made sure not to leave anything that would give away his identity, jumped in his car, and sped off.
When the cops arrived at the household, they found nothing that seemed suspicious. The house looked as if the owner was just out of town, but they knew better than to assume that. Searching the entire house, they found nothing of interest, until a rookie who had been sent along came back to the others with a note he had found. It read:
Sorry, guys. Better luck next time. It seems that I'm always a step ahead of you, doesn't it?
Yours Truly,
Myster Y.