A burglary takes place every few seconds in the United States...
Sloane had a very particular set of skills. Unfortunately, those skills did not exactly look good on a typical résumé. It did not matter to employers that she had grown up with a father who had taught her at twelve how to use a lockpick to unlock a door within two minutes or less. That wasn't something that she could brag about in a cover letter to any reputable company. Being arrested at fifteen for said skill also did not look good when being interviewed, but Sloan had found ways to skirt those details to the best of her abilities.
More often than not, though, Sloane found herself in between jobs because no one was willing to take her on for her less than squeaky clean past. That was why she chose to continue doing what she did best from the tender age of twelve: robbing the rich to feed her poor ass self.
Most of the time it did not pay all of the bills, but on the rare occasion it did Sloane would set all of her under the table skills aside and try all over again to find a legitimate job. It was once again the fear of approaching bills that had her casing a new place over two weeks ago, the place much fancier than her usual go-to. However, money was tight and she made sure to try to get in at least one big job among the smaller ones.
The man was as high class as they came; luxury cars, a beautiful two-story white house, flawless landscape that went on for miles, and Sloane was willing to bet that he had plenty of security measures she would have to break through. It was trickier with someone who had the money to blow, but it was still doable. After two weeks of staking the mini-mansion out, she figured out that he spent more time away than at his house. For what, she had no idea. As far as she was concerned he was the typical businessman heading out to shmooze up his clients by wining and dining them until they were too drunk not to say no. He had already been gone for three days when the time had finally come for Sloane to get to work.
"Here goes nothing," She said after she had pulled up, reaching into her pocket to rub her lucky penny before she exited the unassuming car she had parked just down the street.
The maid that came and went wasn't the most discreet, to be perfectly honest. She didn't hide her security code nearly as well as she thought she did, and getting through the gate had been easy enough after she had already come and gone for the day. Sloane punched in the numbers 6, 3, 8, 1 and the gate's gears cranked it open without issue. Sloane had made sure to dress like the maid with simple black slacks, and white tucked in polo shirt. She also pulled a baseball cap on to shield her face from the cameras that she knew would be focused on the intruder in their midst.
Once she moved to the front entrance she noted the camera in the corner but didn't look directly at the lens as she reached up and disconnected the wiring. Once it was disabled she set to work, pulling the key she had lifted from the maids' car and duplicated so she could unlock the door, the alarm giving off its warning sound that it would alert the authorities if she didn't input the password swiftly. Disconnecting the security system was a bit more difficult and required time and patience, but the amount of times she had done this her skill and speed had increased. It gave off one last warning that died midway through, and Sloane was on her way through the building, pulling several items that looked expensive but were easily dismissed by someone who barely spent time at home
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How Not To Break Into A Hitman's HomeAction
Sloane is a thief for a living. Unfortunately, she soon discovers that the house she is casing isn't the typical rich man's home ripe for the picking. Short Story. Rated Mature for language.