The pool hall winnings had been a rush, a sweet, electric jolt of power that coursed through Leo's veins. He'd never held that much cash in his hands before, never felt so…capable. It wasn't just the money; it was the knowledge, the feeling of being in on a secret that no one else knew. But the novelty wore thin quickly. Pool, he realized, was small fry. A means to an end, perhaps, but not the end itself. Leo Maxwell, as he now saw himself, was destined for bigger things.

The rumor had been circulating for years, a local legend whispered amongst the city's more…enterprising individuals. A hidden stash within the depths of the Royal Bank of Scotland on St. Andrew Square. Not just a few forgotten bonds or a mislabeled coin collection. No, this was supposed to be something significant, a fortune squirreled away decades ago, lost and now ripe for the taking.

Leo, emboldened by his pool hall success and driven by a thirst for more than just pocket money, couldn't resist the lure. The challenge, the risk, the potential reward – it all sang to him like a siren's call. He spent days studying the bank. He watched employees arrive and depart, noting their routines, their uniforms, their expressions. He meticulously mapped the building’s exterior, mentally cataloging security cameras, access points, and emergency exits. He even spent an afternoon pretending to be a prospective customer, politely grilling a teller about opening hours, deposit options, and, subtly, the bank’s security measures.

He knew he couldn’t just walk in and start blasting walls with his X-ray vision. That would be… conspicuous, to say the least. He needed a plan, a clever entry, a way to slip past the layers of security that protected the bank's secrets.

He settled on a night. Friday night. The streets would be crowded with revelers, providing a degree of cover. He'd wait until the bars started spilling their clientele onto the pavement, a chaotic mass of laughter, shouts, and spilled drinks, before making his move.

Dressed in dark clothing, a hooded sweatshirt pulled low over his brow, Leo approached the bank under the cloak of a cool Edinburgh night. The air smelled of frying food and diesel, a strange but familiar city aroma. He kept to the shadows, sticking close to the buildings, his heart a frantic drum against his ribs.

The front entrance was out of the question. Too much visibility, too many cameras. He circled the building, his eyes scanning for a weakness, a forgotten alleyway, a poorly secured vent. Finally, he found it. A narrow service entrance on the building’s east side, used for deliveries and maintenance. It was locked, of course, but the lock looked old, relatively simple.

He'd spent a portion of his pool hall winnings on a basic lock-picking kit. He wasn’t exactly a master locksmith, but he’d practiced on his bedroom door often enough to know the basics. With trembling hands, he inserted the tension wrench and the pick, listening intently for the subtle clicks that would signal success.

Time seemed to stretch and warp as he worked. Every rustle of leaves, every distant siren, made him jump. He imagined the security guards inside, sipping lukewarm coffee, watching him on grainy security footage. He pushed the thought away, focusing on the feel of the tools in his hands, the delicate dance of metal on metal.

Finally, with a soft, almost imperceptible snick, the lock gave way. He held his breath, pushing the door open just enough to slip inside.

He found himself in a narrow corridor, dimly lit by a single flickering fluorescent bulb. The air was stale and smelled faintly of dust and old paperwork. He pulled the door shut behind him, the click sounding deafeningly loud in the confined space.

Now came the real challenge. Navigating the bank’s interior. He activated his X-ray vision, adjusting the intensity until he could see through the walls, a ghostly blueprint of the building unfolding before his eyes.

He quickly realized that his initial assessment of the bank’s layout had been woefully inadequate. The blueprints he’d found online were outdated, missing key details about the security system. The walls weren’t just brick and mortar; they were interwoven with sensors, alarms, and reinforced steel.

The vault, the supposed location of the hidden stash, was a fortress within a fortress. Multiple layers of steel, pressure sensors, laser grids, and what looked like a sophisticated motion detection system protected it. Getting inside would be significantly more difficult than he'd anticipated.

He crept through the corridors, his X-ray vision constantly flickering, searching for a weakness, a bypass, anything that could give him an edge. He avoided the main areas, sticking to back hallways and service passages, his heart pounding in his chest with each step.

He found a ventilation shaft that seemed to lead towards the vault. It was narrow and dusty, but it offered a potential route, albeit a claustrophobic one. He hesitated. It was risky, but he was already inside. Turning back now felt like admitting defeat.

He squeezed into the shaft, the metal cold and unforgiving against his skin. The air was thick with dust, and he coughed, trying to stifle the sound. He crawled forward, inching his way through the darkness, his X-ray vision guiding him.

The shaft twisted and turned, leading him deeper into the bowels of the bank. He could feel the tension building with each meter he covered. He knew he was getting closer to the vault, but he also knew that he was walking into a potential trap.

Suddenly, a piercing alarm shrieked through the bank. His blood ran cold. He froze, his body rigid with fear. He’d triggered something. A sensor, a pressure plate, something he hadn’t seen with his X-ray vision.

Panic surged through him. He scrambled backwards, desperate to escape the ventilation shaft. He could hear the sound of approaching footsteps, the hurried voices of security guards. He was trapped.

He frantically scanned the shaft with his X-ray vision, searching for an exit, a way out. He saw a small panel, almost hidden behind a layer of dust. He kicked at it, the metal groaning under the force of his blow.

The panel gave way, revealing a small opening, barely big enough to squeeze through. He didn’t hesitate. He wriggled through the opening, landing with a thud on the other side.

He was in a small, cluttered storage room, filled with old files and discarded equipment. He slammed the panel shut behind him, hoping it would buy him a few precious seconds.

He could hear the security guards getting closer, their voices growing louder. He had to get out of here, now. He activated his X-ray vision, searching for an escape route.

He saw a back door leading to a narrow alleyway. It was his only chance. He sprinted towards the door, fumbling with the lock.

He burst out into the alleyway, the cool night air hitting his face. He ran, his legs pumping, his lungs burning. He could hear the guards shouting behind him, their footsteps pounding on the pavement.

He didn’t look back. He ran until he reached the crowded streets, blending into the throng of people, disappearing into the night.

He didn’t stop running until he was miles away, safely back in his cramped apartment. He collapsed onto his bed, his body trembling, his heart still racing.

He had failed. He hadn’t found the hidden stash. He hadn’t even gotten close. And he had almost been caught.

The experience had shaken him to his core. He had been so arrogant, so confident in his abilities. He had underestimated the bank’s security, overestimated his own skills.

He realized that his power wasn’t a magic ticket to riches and glory. It was a tool, a dangerous one, that had to be wielded with caution and respect. The price of curiosity, he now knew, could be far steeper than he had ever imagined.

He lay in the darkness, his mind racing, the image of the vault imprinted on his eyelids. He knew he couldn't give up. Not yet. He had tasted the power, the thrill of the game, and he was hooked.

But he also knew that he had to be smarter, more careful, more prepared. He needed to learn more about the bank, its security systems, its secrets. He needed to be patient, to wait for the right opportunity.

The hidden stash was still out there, waiting to be discovered. And Leo Maxwell, now wiser and more cautious, was determined to find it. He just needed a new plan. A better plan. The cost of failure was far too great.