MidReal Story

The Stadium Heist

Scenario:Jack moved like a shadow through the dimly lit warehouse, his black tactical gear blending seamlessly with the darkness. His target lay ahead—a high-profile stadium where tonight’s game had the entire city’s attention. He checked his watch. Time was tight. Slipping through the loading bay, he reached a maintenance truck he had scouted earlier. A quick flick of his lockpick, and he was inside. The ignition hummed to life under his deft touch, and within minutes, he was en route to the stadium, weaving through the city streets with calculated precision. Upon arrival, Jack parked the truck near the stadium’s service entrance. A janitor’s uniform, stolen from the warehouse, was his disguise. Adjusting his cap low over his eyes, he grabbed the duffel bag holding his tools and walked through the employee entrance without a second glance. Navigating through the corridors, Jack found the players' changing room. Security was light—everyone was focused on the ongoing game. He pulled a small vial from his pocket, an advanced anesthetic in aerosol form, designed to dissipate after a few minutes. With a practiced hand, he inserted the vial into a modified ventilation sprayer, then triggered the release. A fine mist hissed into the air, its near-silent dispersion ensuring no one was alerted. The room had to be completely silent for his next move. Peeking inside, he watched as the first player slumped forward, followed by another. Within moments, all of them were unconscious, breathing deeply in a chemically induced sleep. Jack counted the bodies. All accounted for. Moving quickly, he stepped inside, careful not to inhale any residual gas. He had less than five minutes before someone would check in. His next objective lay just ahead, past the unconscious athletes—another step in his carefully crafted plan. Jack adjusted his gloves, then got to work.
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Jack moved like a shadow through the dimly lit warehouse, his black tactical gear blending seamlessly with the darkness. His target lay ahead—a high-profile stadium where tonight’s game had the entire city’s attention. He checked his watch. Time was tight. Slipping through the loading bay, he reached a maintenance truck he had scouted earlier. A quick flick of his lockpick, and he was inside. The ignition hummed to life under his deft touch, and within minutes, he was en route to the stadium, weaving through the city streets with calculated precision. Upon arrival, Jack parked the truck near the stadium’s service entrance. A janitor’s uniform, stolen from the warehouse, was his disguise. Adjusting his cap low over his eyes, he grabbed the duffel bag holding his tools and walked through the employee entrance without a second glance. Navigating through the corridors, Jack found the players' changing room. Security was light—everyone was focused on the ongoing game. He pulled a small vial from his pocket, an advanced anesthetic in aerosol form, designed to dissipate after a few minutes. With a practiced hand, he inserted the vial into a modified ventilation sprayer, then triggered the release. A fine mist hissed into the air, its near-silent dispersion ensuring no one was alerted. The room had to be completely silent for his next move. Peeking inside, he watched as the first player slumped forward, followed by another. Within moments, all of them were unconscious, breathing deeply in a chemically induced sleep. Jack counted the bodies. All accounted for. Moving quickly, he stepped inside, careful not to inhale any residual gas. He had less than five minutes before someone would check in. His next objective lay just ahead, past the unconscious athletes—another step in his carefully crafted plan. Jack adjusted his gloves, then got to work.
I moved like a shadow, my black tactical gear I had put on earlier blending seamlessly with the darkness.
A dimly lit corridor stretched out before me, the only sound being the soft squeak of my rubber soles on the concrete floor.
My target lay ahead, less than fifty feet away.
I checked my watch, the glow of the hands showing me I had less than ten minutes to complete the objective.
I scanned the corridor, the high ceilings and recessed lighting ensuring darkness still lingered. My gaze swept back to the far corner—a security camera poked its head out from a metal casing.
I waited, its red light blinking as it rotated, scanning the length of the corridor.
Once it had cleared my position, I moved.
No light illuminated my path—the darkness remained absolute.
My footsteps continued their faint squeak as I made my way towards my target, the only other sound being the beating of my heart.
A mild thumping in my chest—adrenaline—but nothing more.
I had done this countless times before; the excitement had long since faded.
The only difference tonight was the stakes.
If I failed, there would be consequences.
The Stadium Heist