Operation Begins
Arthur slept soundly until one in the afternoon.
A cold shower quickly washed away the accumulated sweat of the night's grueling labor on the cliff face.
The sweltering heat of Los Angeles in June was growing more oppressive by the day.
He had just finished cleaning himself up and was about to head to the kitchen to fix himself a heavy lunch when a sharp knock at the door interrupted him.
Curious, Arthur walked over and pulled the heavy wooden door open.
There stood his boldly dressed, alluring blonde neighbor, Maggie.
"Hi!" she greeted him, her voice dripping with unmistakable, raw enthusiasm.
Seeing how badly she wanted to absolutely devour him, Arthur felt quietly proud of his physical progress.
In this new cinematic life, his facial features were already outstanding, and as his five core attributes kept rapidly rising, his physique had grown increasingly perfect and sculpted.
He still didn't resemble the massive, muscle-bound Dom, whose sheer, towering bulk radiated menace at first sight.
Instead, Arthur's build was perfectly balanced, functionally strong yet lean and streamlined like a professional fighter.
Once he peeled off his shirt to reveal his dense, flawless musculature, very few women could resist the visual impact.
And the supernatural attribute boosts improved far more than mere muscle density.
This wildly passionate housewife had first stormed over aggressively to complain about the noise when he moved in; now every single visit ended with her staggering out hours later, collapsing back at her own home to sleep half the day away.
Not every man could successfully manage that level of intense, relentless stamina.
"Hi," he answered smoothly, his voice a low rumble. He genuinely liked her company.
With her enthusiastic, highly skilled help, his [Reproduction] skill had already successfully reached LV4, and he absolutely never turned away such an eager, proactive neighbor.
"Aren't you going to invite me in for coffee?" she purred, leaning against the doorframe.
She felt far warmer and significantly more attached toward this young, handsome, remarkably capable neighbor than toward her own slovenly, neglectful husband.
Reading the blazing fire in her eyes, Arthur smiled knowingly and gracefully gestured for her to step inside.
She brushed past him eagerly, completely missing the fact that her stepdaughter, Mathilda, was watching them expressionlessly from the crack of their own doorway down the hall.
Arthur noticed the quiet young girl, gave her a polite, brief nod of acknowledgment, and firmly closed his door.
Hours later, the heavy door finally opened again.
Maggie emerged, leaning heavily on the corridor wall for support, her flushed face radiating absolute satisfaction and deep physical exhaustion.
"What an absolute bull," she murmured breathlessly under her breath. "Youth is truly wonderful."
Her legs trembling slightly with every step, she inched her way next door, replaying the wild, uninhibited afternoon in her hazy mind.
Learning that her incredibly capable, handsome neighbor was only eighteen had completely upended much of what she had believed about men for decades.
She was back in her own home in no time and immediately spotted Mathilda sitting on the sagging sofa, cuddling her fragile little brother while watching the bright television.
Her eldest daughter, Liv, however, was nowhere to be seen.
Maggie was entirely too tired to even care about her whereabouts right now; she simply ordered Mathilda, "There is frozen dinner in the fridge. Microwave whatever you want, and do not stay up too late."
Skipping even a basic shower, she trudged clumsily straight to the sanctuary of her dark bedroom.
Lately, her husband had been completely off in his own dangerous world, wearing a dazed, highly conflicted look whenever he actually bothered to come home.
And he stayed out overnight significantly more often than before.
So Maggie absolutely wasn't worried in the slightest that he would notice anything unusual about her condition.
With a lingering hint of deep satisfaction, she drifted quickly into a heavy, dreamless sleep.
---
"Perfect!"
After polishing off a massive, heavy plate of homemade kung pao chicken, Arthur washed it down completely with a tall glass of ice-cold lemon soda.
A satisfied sigh escaped his lips as he strolled casually to the open window.
Outside, the California sky was rapidly darkening, soon to be strewn with countless, glittering stars.
"What unexpectedly great weather!" he noted, leaning against the frame.
Arthur's calculated mood soared right along with the clear night sky.
Last night, he had spent the entire, grueling night in the freezing rain, relentlessly hammering steel climbing pitons directly into the sheer cliff face beneath Steve's fortified villa.
Tonight, he would scale that exact cliff and slip straight into Steve's luxury mansion completely undetected.
He absolutely had to locate the heavy vault holding Steve's stolen gold in the absolute shortest possible time.
Then, securely packing a staggering metric ton of pure gold bricks into his void, he would quietly and flawlessly leave the villa.
After days of intense preparation and equipment buying, he had nearly burned completely through his available cash reserves.
He knew all too well exactly how vital those thousand kilos of glittering gold were to his survival and growth right now.
Once he successfully had the bricks securely in his private space, his currently dire financial situation would turn around instantly.
At the exact same time, many of his highly practical skills could finally get the massive funding needed to rapidly push for even higher, more lethal levels.
Besides, that specific metric ton of gold had originally been violently looted by Steve and his former crew directly from a ruthless Italian Mafia family.
So Arthur felt absolutely zero moral guilt about aggressively snatching it back from Steve's treacherous hands.
As for the legendary gold thief Charlie Croker—he could only offer a silent apology.
He was already feeling a tiny, fleeting pang of guilt toward the older mastermind.
Suddenly, Arthur felt a sharp vibration in his jacket pocket.
He reflexively pulled out his secure burner phone: it was an unknown encrypted number.
After a brief, tactical hesitation, he pressed the button and answered.
A familiar, charismatic voice came through the speaker at once.
"Hey, buddy."
"I've got a massive new job. Are you interested?"
It was Charlie Croker.
Arthur genuinely hadn't expected that, after more than twenty quiet days, the master thief would finally think of utilizing his mechanical skills again.
Tonight, he was already securely set to move on the mountain of gold sitting in Steve's villa, yet he confidently agreed without a single moment of hesitation.
"No problem at all, pal. I just need to finish up a couple of pressing things on my end first."
"If that timeline works for you, give me an exact address and we will securely meet tomorrow at noon to talk details, okay?"
Charlie Croker, the legendary gold thief, clearly had absolutely no idea that Arthur already knew perfectly well he was actively planning to hit Steve—the violent traitor who had once betrayed their elite team.
He certainly didn't know that Arthur had flawlessly tailed him and the beautiful Stella for grueling weeks just to find Steve's current, heavily guarded hideout.
So when the young mechanic confidently accepted the job right away, Charlie was delighted.
"OK, buddy."
"Same diner tomorrow at noon; we will hash out the partnership details then."
"Deal!"
Arthur hung up the encrypted line, his sharp grin widening into a predatory smile.
Sorry, pal, he thought, his dark eyes flashing with anticipation.
That entire ton of gold is already mine.
I will happily settle your bloody score with Steve while I am at it.
As for the stunning Stella—may the absolute best thief win.
He casually tossed the cell phone onto the wooden dining table; taking it along on the high-stakes heist might inadvertently give his position away if it rang or buzzed.
Leaving it securely behind was tactically safer, and stashing it deep inside his private space could cause him to miss other highly important, encrypted calls.
After a rigorous, final check of his dark tactical gear and climbing harness, he noted it was just past eight in the evening.
He slipped silently out of the rented apartment, ducked into a deserted, unmonitored alleyway, seamlessly pulled his matte-black motorbike directly from his invisible private space, and roared off into the night toward Steve's villa.