The Red of the Writing

Eleven | Maliha

The clouds obscure the moon when I strike.

Glancing over my shoulder furtively for the millionth time - you can never be too careful - I reach up to my head, quickly locating the two thin hairpins I shoved into my hair this morning.

Lockpicking has never been one of my greatest strengths, but it's often the best way to get into a building unnoticed. And given what I do, it's a skill that comes in handy.

The moment the night guard turns the corner of the large building, I slip out of the shadows, bolting for the window as though one of Rewera's servants is chasing me. I have approximately three minutes and twelve seconds until the second night guard turns around the other corner of the building, and I enter their line of sight. At that point, I would be totally and utterly screwed.

There is no time to waste.

Quickly, I separate the two prongs of my first hairpin until they're at a ninety-degree angle, using my teeth to rip off the rubber bit at one of the ends. It takes me a bit longer than I'd hoped - some of these rubber pieces can be incredibly difficult to detach.

Two minutes and forty-four seconds.

Then, I jam my first hairpin into the lock, bending one of the ends slightly before pulling it out again. After that's done, I turn my attention to my second hairpin, bending it into another ninety-degree angle, this time keeping the prongs together.

Two minutes and twenty-nine seconds.

With my hairpins ready, I jam the closed end of the second one into the lock, turning it a bit. It acts as a lever, putting tension on the lock mechanism, exactly what I need for my first hairpin to go in.

Using the slightly bent end of my first hairpin, I force it above the lever and into the lock.

Two minutes and eighteen seconds.

Gritting my teeth, I begin the search for the seized pin, wiggling my makeshift pick around inside the lock and testing each pin. It's an arduous process; unlike most locks, which contain five pins, this particular brand and style of lock contains seven, meaning I have more pins to test.

I'm not quite sure what the government was thinking while securing this building; who in their right mind includes a padlock outside a window? But if I had to guess, they were probably more concerned about things being taken out, rather than people getting in. They rely on the fact that the building is being guarded 24-7 to prevent the latter. Plus, this building is old, and they likely didn't want to spend even more money on an expensive security system.

Tonight, that will be their downfall.

It takes me a few long seconds, but finally, my pick meets resistance. Just my luck; the first seized pin is the sixth pin in.

I wiggle the pick back and forth under the pin. Finally, there's a click, and the lock turns slightly - the first seized pin is up.

One minute and fifty-six seconds.

Letting out a sigh, I start the process again. Every time one seized pin is freed, another pin becomes seized. So, I'll have to do this seven times.

In all the stories I've heard about epic heists, nobody mentions how utterly boring lockpicking is.

There's another click. The lock turns a bit.

One minute and thirty-eight seconds.

Click. Click. Click. Little by little, I force more pins up.

One minute and twenty-seven seconds.

One minute and six seconds.

Forty-nine seconds.