Hullo. This is a preview of a story that I am considering writing. If you like it please review and tell me.

Cheers, Dylan.

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Hullo, my name is of no concern to you. Usually I would write heroic tales about teenage boys who fought and overcome evil. But I recently came across a young man who was not at all like this. In fact, he is quite a mischievous little blighter. His name is James Smith. As you read this you think ‘James Smith, what an ordinary name, not at all threatening’. But as you read further you will discover that James Smith is definitely a name to fear. The boy is merely fourteen, and yet he has made a name for himself in the black-market. The law enforcements are always trying to catch him. He is no stranger to death and will, if needed, induce it. He is an average height and weight, with brown hair, grey eyes and a strong British accent. Unless of course he is alone and in private, where he tends to relax and releases his Australian self. The law knows who he is, his age, but not his name. To them his name is Anonymous. Literally. His name is ‘Anonymous’. Every time they refer to him, they refer to him as ‘Anonymous’. Do you understand? Good. Now on this particular day ‘Anonymous’ was robbing a jewelry store of its diamonds. He needed these diamonds to make… err… you see… he didn’t actually tell me. Let’s just say… hmmm… a super weapon. Yes that should do. Anyway…

Anonymous stepped into the store.

The man at the counter (a large blob with the crumbs of five different meals on his grubby shirt) looked up from his dirty magazine and spoke up. “Hey, kid. You lost or somethin’?”

Anonymous smiled. The sight sent shivers down the man’s spine. “Actually…” Anonymous spoke with much confidence, “… I am here to steal all of your diamonds to build a machine that will help me in taking control over a few companies.”

The man looked shocked for a moment… and then burst out laughing, all three of his chins vibrating. “That’s a good one kid.”

Anonymous sighed and pulled a Sig Sauer from his inside jacket pocket.

This tickled the man some more. At no point did I call him smart.

Anonymous fired the weapon. The bullet hit the wall behind the man.

He shut up very quickly.

Anonymous smiled. “Now if you would kindly take all of those diamonds out of their case and place them in a bag. And I don’t want a dollar side printed on the bag.” This joke seemed reasonable to him.

The man struck up a moment of defiance. “I don’t have the key. Not allowed. You have to order them and some dude comes and gives ‘em to ya on another day.”

Anonymous smiled even wider. “That’s no problem.” He quickly turned the gun on the glass display case and fired. The glass shattered and flew everywhere. “Now pick them up and put them in a dollar-sign-less bag.”

Apparently the blob man had more guts than he seemed to have… figuratively speaking. “No.”

That one little word was a word that Anonymous rarely heard. The reason was because he had no tolerance for it. He fired three times; triple tapping the fat mans heart, whom died instantly.

Anonymous pulled a sack from his other inside jacket pocket. “Why did I just no that I was going to hear that word today?” He stepped over the blob’s body and shoved the diamonds in. Once this was done he tied the bag and walked to the front door. Only to find that it had been blocked by a blockade of armed men.

A single man stepped out from the midst. His name was Grant Jackson and he had been hunting Anonymous for over a year. Now he finally had him. “Put your hands in the air, Anonymous. There’s nowhere to go.”

Another thing about Anonymous was that he had an incredibly swift brain. He smiled. “Actually… there is.” He snapped his hand up and fired the Sig once.

The bullet flew past Grant and hit the gas tank of the police cruiser behind him. You can imagine what happened next. Lots of fire and shrapnel. It’s a miracle that Grant survived, although he would never walk again.

The explosion was enough of a distraction to allow Anonymous a way out. The back door, to be precise. He jumped through the fly screen door, breaking it, and ran for his motorbike. He revved and sped off in the opposite direction.

It didn’t take long for the police cruisers to follow, but he didn’t need long to escape. He had once again slipped through Jackson’s fingers, as well as injuring him severely. Life was so easy.

Anonymous unlocked the door to his room and stepped in. He tore off his clothes and had a long freezing shower.

When he came out, bare and muscled chest exposed, he saw his face on TV. This was going to be messy.

Anonymous sat down and unlocked the safe that held the TV on top of it. Inside were photos of people, his family.

His family had played by the rules their whole lives, which got them drowned by the American mafia.

Anonymous survived by breaking the rules; if he didn’t then he would have perished long ago.

He considered for a moment maybe to give his self up.

“Nahhh…” he said out loud.

He closed and locked the safe, then stood up and looked out the window. The sun was setting over the city. What a beautiful site. Rays of red, orange and gold spread among and covered buildings. Anonymous cherished the moment for a few seconds and then covered it with a blind.

Time to concentrate on the scheme. Super weapons don’t build themselves by magic.

That’s all he has told me so far… but I’m hoping he will tell me more. He is very secretive.