Varmun's re:ALLY Cool Topic Title

The vent cover was welded so tightly into the wall that there was no way to get it off. Busting the grate apart was perhaps the only possible solution—so different from the vents Isaac had dealt with before.

"Guess lots of kids tried to sneak in here," he muttered through his bandana. From behind two trashcans, Isaac studied the building, looking for another way inside. That vent had been the most appealing idea, but thankfully it wasn't Isaac's only option. There was still a back door that faced a dark lot where no one seemed to be. From what Isaac could see, there were at least two cameras in the corners. That was manageable.

A Middle Class shop would definitely have a digital lock, though, so Isaac reached into his pocket and pulled out a large handheld device. Well, Madam Roux had called it a handheld, but Isaac had a hard time curling his little fingers around it. It was bulky and thick since it needed room for those special "hacking darts" or whatever Madam Roux called them. Maybe when Isaac got bigger he could hold it easier.

For now, he moved out of cover and crept to the back lot, watching out for cameras the entire time. When he stepped out of his alley, he confirmed there were only two cameras, but one of them kept sweeping over the shop's back door.

Isaac found cover behind a dumpster, and he stared at the back door, his lips scrunched up in irritation. The camera was slow, but he barely knew how this handheld worked. He would need time to hack the door, time that the camera wouldn't give him.

Holding the handheld horizontally, he pointed the top of it at the console beside the door. He took a breath, steadied his aim, and pressed a button on the side of the device, firing a tiny blue and black dart that shot out of the handheld and sailed through the air. The dart, however, hit the wall just to the right of the console. "Crap."

Isaac lined up his shot again, this time pointing a little to the left. He fired, but the second dart missed the console and hit the doorframe. "Come on…"

With only one dart left, Isaac aimed up at the camera instead. Maybe two missed shots was a sign to change targets. But he was impatient and foolish. When he shot for the higher, farther target, he missed by a mile, and he had to stop himself from punching the dumpster.

Isaac ran his free hand through his hair and gripped it tight, feeling all of the dirt and tangled knots. Hairs popped out of his head when he pulled his hand away, and he groaned at the pain, but it managed to calm him down, let him rethink his approach. There was really only one option left: run at the door and hack it up close.

He looked down at the handheld again, and he pulled on a tab at the bottom. Pinched between his fingers was an Ethernet-like jack, and when he tugged it out of the handheld, a thin cable followed. He needed to plug this in to the console, run the pre-loaded hack on his device, and sneak inside all before the camera could catch him. If only he could see just how wide the camera's view was. If only he wasn't so stubborn.

Turning on the handheld's display, Isaac sifted through the files, searching deep for the hacking programs. They were well hidden and password-protected in case anyone got their hands on the device, and it took Isaac a couple minutes to find them. Once he had the door-opening hack loaded and ready to go—just a single tap away—Isaac sighed and looked back to the console. He could barely see where he had to plug in the cable. There was a tiny metal cover over the port just beneath the keypad, and there was a little red light at the top—probably meaning the door was locked.

Behind the dumpster, Isaac practiced his approach. With his left hand—which gripped the handheld—he swept through the air, flicking his fingers as if he was swinging open the port's little cover. Then, with his right hand, he thrust out the jack. To finish, he tapped his thumb against the screen of the handheld, running the hack on nothing but air. He went through the motions over and over, muttering, "Flip, thrust, tap. Flip, thrust, tap. Flip, thrust, tap… No. Flip, thrust, tap, turn." He added a turn of the doorknob with his right hand, then revised his practice until he was confident.

Five minutes later, Isaac returned his eyes to the camera. It was the only one that caught the shop's back door, the only one he needed to worry about. He waited until the camera was seemingly looking at the door before he sprinted out from behind the dumpster. By the time Isaac reached the door, the camera swept to the left, hopefully missing him entirely.

Isaac had to reach up higher than he had thought. The console was as high as his head, and it threw him off for a second. But he reached up and curled his fingers against the port's cover. The metal stuck, and Isaac hurt his fingers when his tips slipped and he banged his knuckles. He tried again, gripping harder and pulling back until the cover flew open. He then plunged the jack into the port and tapped on his device… But the console's little red light didn't turn green. The door was still locked. What?! Isaac looked down at the handheld. Its screen was black. It had gone to sleep. Crap! Isaac fumbled with the bulky device, trying to turn it back on before the camera spotted him. When he found the button in the dark, and the screen lit up, Isaac launched the hack and reached for the doorknob.

The camera swung around moments after Isaac dashed inside and closed the door behind him. He pressed his back against the metal slab and reeled the cable back into his handheld, sighing with relief. "Stupid thing," he said as he furiously shoved the tool back into his pocket.

From here, things got easier. The cameras were easy to avoid inside. Isaac crept behind counters and tables, using a tiny mirror to check for cameras before he moved from cover to cover. There were no guards, no laser grids, no motion sensors—only cameras. And before long, Isaac found what he was looking for, what he had come for.

He grabbed a little plastic box from under a counter and crept over to his prize. He wanted something bigger, but this was all he could smuggle out. Besides, anything bigger than this would raise suspicion.

When the cameras weren't looking, Isaac snatched up his prize and placed it in the box before sliding it shut. He then sneaked back to the door he'd come through, peered through a window to check the camera outside, and slipped back out into the darkness when the coast was clear. Isaac then ran home as quickly as he could, while at the same time trying not to jostle his prize in the box.

About half an hour later, he returned to the Slums, his legs aching from all of his running and rooftop jumping—the only way he could possibly sneak past the checkpoints. He was tired and sweaty, his chest heaving and his arms shaking. His heart raced, but a smile curled across his face as he reached his tiny, dirty, banged up house.

He peered through the cloudy window, and he found Dante in the living room, fast asleep on his thin mattress. Isaac slipped inside and knelt down by his baby brother, his smile growing wider. He set the box on the floor, turned it to face Dante, and then opened the lid. A feeling of pride welled up inside him, and Isaac couldn't wait to hear Dante's excitement tomorrow morning.

But for now, he was exhausted. With sweat dripping from his brow, his legs wobbling, and his stomach grumbling, Isaac trudged down the hall and into his parents' bedroom, where he fell down onto their bed and passed out, his smile still stretched across his face.

When Dante woke up the next morning, he would find the box beside him. And in that box he would find a blue and white cupcake twice as big as his fist, sitting next to a card that read, "Happy Birthday, Dante."