[ WP ] You 're a robber in a house coming down the stairs with valuable items from the master bedroom . You encounter another robber in the home on your way out ; Write a story about what happens .

When I got to work this morning I thought it was just another day gone by, another missed opportunity. Dumping oil, rotating tires and trying to sell outlandish repairs is no way to make a living - but then it rolled into the lot and I knew my luck was going to change. It was the end of the day and everything arriving now would be tomorrow's work. The van was perfect, a Sear's Home Service Plus van - absolutely invisible parked anywhere, any time of the day. It was in for an oil change and there were notes of some noise at some speed; the radio gets louder, does n't it? 
 
 I took a different route home, heading south for about fifteen minutes before turning off into manicured lawns and big two story ramblers. The van would n't look out of place and I did n't have it for long - the closer I got the faster my pulse raced. I pulled into the park across the street and watched my clock tick past five to see what I've seen for the second week in a row. The dark blue BWM clumsily pulled into the driveway and parked in the middle, the engine killed but the driver did n't emerge. I took a look around and did n't see anything out of the ordinary - a few teenagers smoking under the swing set, people coming home from work in that robotic mid week rut, that same familiar autonomous feel. A few minutes go by and the door is flung open and the pudgy man hops out - one hand holding a briefcase and the other pressing his phone to his ear. I leaned the seat back and prepared for a long night, I should have brought something to eat. 
 
 Two uneventful hours pass as the sun goes down and drapes the world in darkness - time to get moving. I flip the switch and open the door with a smile, no interior lights to grab any attention. I circle around my truck and walk down the sidewalk towards the BMW, I hold the hook against my leg as I walk in case anyone happens to drive by. I creep up to the passenger side of the X5 and pull out one of my favorite tools - the air bag. I slip the device at the top doorjamb and start squeezing the bulb, the door silently twisting out more with each depression of the bulb. The door is creaking and giving me more resistance that I had thought, but I manage and get the gap I need - out comes the hook and I reach for my prize, the garage door opener. I stow the hook, deflate the bag and make my way back to the truck, not five minutes have gone by and my heart is pounding - step one is done. I hop in and take off - all of my planing comes down to tomorrow. 
 
 I did n't sleep much and by lunch I'm starting to feel it, Surge is n't even affecting me like it usually does. Its go time, I grab the van and head south - I've only got an hour, but once I'm there I wo n't need much time. I do n't speed as I make my way south, I've got to look like I'm in no hurry - just on my way to fix whatever need fixing. I turn down the block and drive past the house and smile as the empty driveway greets my arrival. I back up to the garage and hit the opener and I close in - the door starts lifting. I put on the hat laying on the floor and grab the clipboard off the seat and walk into the garage and fall back into my routine. I kick the entryway floor clean and head upstairs looking for for the usual - electronics, jewelry and firearms. 
 
 I stroll into the office and grab the two laptops, DSLR Cannon and head back to the van - I look over the haul as I place the last few things into the van and smile, looks like the rent is going to be on time after all. I shut the doors and make one last trip, I'm cutting it close but I am supposed to be on lunch, so I head into the kitchen in search of something to put a dent in my hunger. I settle on making a sandwich and smile when I see he has the same cheese I like - things are looking up. Three bites into my sandwich and I'm in the basement flipping through movies and I hear it - the garage entry door opening with its sickly squeak as the sweeper seal rubs on the hardwood floor. I hear footsteps towards the kitchen stop and change direction abruptly and head downstairs. My mind racing I quickly head into the laundry room and make some racket on the exposed piping to the sink, desperately trying to come up with a story. I've got to confront whoever is here, I peek out the window expecting to see the BWM but it is n't there. The hair on the back of my neck stands up as the footsteps head down the stairs and my mind starts racing. I look down at my clipboard and put on a friendly face as I walk out to see a tall skinny man heading down the stairs with a blank look on his face, I have an epiphany and say to the man who I obviously know is n't the schlep who drives the BMW, `` The filters are changed, everything went well; Bob got called to another job and this was on my way.'' 
 
 The man smiled and thanked me as I walked by towards the garage and made my way to the van, my heart was racing again. Who was that and why did n't he ask questions? I did n't care as I tossed the van into drive and made my way back to work - twenty minutes to punch back in. I rounded the last corner and puled the van into the shop next to my truck, hopefully nobody is back from lunch yet. I make quick work of moving everything into my truck and pull the tarp over just in case someone walks in. I put the van up on the lift and yank the drain plug out of the oil pan before I punch back in - the paperwork shows I diagnosed that squeak before the oil change. I chuckle when I think back and realize the noise goes away when you put over a hundred pounds of household goods in the back. The rest of the day goes by like a blur and I head home on time, giddy to get going, giddy to get started. 
 
 I roll up to the freeway storage compound and enter my code at the gate, the door slowly moves open and I take off the second I'm clear. I picked a corner until in the back on purpose as it's secluded back here and I know for a fact that the camera is a cheap fake. I back my truck to the door at a forty-five degree angle and roll the rear window down before killing the engine, not a soul in sight. I pull the keys from the ignition and head for the lock, the key slips in and pops the hasp like a well oiled machine - I lift the door up and move the goods in and have the door closed in minutes, nobody the wiser. I hop in and make my way out and hear sirens, the rear window is still open and my heart starts beating. I take off towards home and I see the lights coming at me, the strobe blinding me as I slowly move over and sink into my seat as I desperately stare into my rear view mirror - no brake lights, I'm safe. 
 
 I pull into the lot and take a look at my watch - half past six, time for dinner. I toss a pizza on the pizza oven, crack open a beer and turn the tv on as I sink down into the couch. Nothing but crap on as I bounce through the channels and I settle on the news in hopes to catch the weather. The pizza oven dings to let me know it's either burnt or raw in the middle but I hesitate when I recognize the driveway and BMW I see behind the reporter. `` Home invasion gone wrong'' reads across the bottom of the screen as the reporter holds his hand to his earbud and continues to relay information off his notepad; the coroner pulls into view as the reporter moves to interview the distraught homeowner. I give our a loud chuckle and do a little dance into the kitchen to grab another beer; it seems like our visitor was n't so lucky-
