Control
Tap and hold to leap to the next rooftop.
c
Every dawn found our protagonist meticulously refining the blueprint for the heist of the century—a role he’d reserved exclusively for himself, though even masterminds need accomplices. His target? A corrupt bank tangled with the city’s underworld, its vaults overflowing with laundered cash. A recent exposé in some bottom-shelf tabloid had spilled the details: dirty money, mob ties, a perfect excuse to play vigilante *and* line his pockets. Why *not* gut the wolves using their own tricks? Midnight became his ally as he slipped into the vault, silent and precise, emerging with a fortune coiled in shadows. Patrols would swarm at first light, so he buried the loot under tarps on a forgotten rooftop, where rain and wind would keep it company. Now came the hard part: waiting. Weeks of laying low, of biting nails while the city’s fury cooled. But patience, he knew, was the final lock to pick.
