.8
Tyler was precisely the kind of student his mentor Jason despised, the professional amateur.
Jason enjoyed all the criminal types who were his usual pupils at the academy, from the common burglar to the more sophisticated blackmailers, children and young people with strong career ambitions which the art and science of lock picking could facilitate.
They were always interested in simple solutions, the easy way, but people like Tyler were always looking for exceptions, possibilities, ect. For pragmatists like Jason, it was intensely irritating.
The young teenager would spend hours in front of a lock, prodding at it with his wires and picks, flirting with the key pins and driver pins, exploring the hull with a sort of casual fascination that no delinquent possesses.
Long after his fellow students had opened their test locks and moved on, Tyler was still playing with his.
The fact that he always opened it eventually, no matter how advanced a lock it was, irked Jason even further.
"You are making things much too difficult." He would roar, boxing Tyler's ears.
"Speed is of the essence, not merely technical know-how. I swear that if I put the key to the lock right in front of you, you'd still never get around to opening it."
Tyler would bear Jason's abuse silently. he had, after all, paid him in advance. Speed was doubtless an important factor for the picker trying to get somewhere he wasn't supposed to go with the city guard on patrol behind him, but Tyler knew it wouldn't apply to him. He merely wanted the knowledge.
Jason did everything he could think of to encourage Tyler to move faster.
He seemed to perversely thrive on his physical and verbal blows, spending more and more time on each lock, learning its idiosyncrasies and personality.
Finally, he could bear it no longer. Very late one afternoon after Tyler had dawdled over a perfectly ordinary lock.
Jason grabbed the boy by his ear and dragged him to a room in the academy far from the other students, an area they had always been forbidden to visit.
The room was completely barren, except for one large crate in the center. There were no windows and no other door except for the one leading in.
Jason slammed his student against the crate and closed the door behind him. There was a distinct click of the lock.
"This is the test for my advanced students," He laughed behind the door. "See if you can escape."
Tyler smirked and began his usual slow process of massaging the lock, gaining information.
After a few minutes had gone by, He heard Jason's voice again call out from behind the door.
"Perhaps I should mention that this is a test of speed. You see the crate behind you? It contains a experimental vampire accident who has been locked in here for many months. It is absolutely ravenous. In a few minutes' time, the sun will have completely set, and if you have not opened the door, you will be nothing but a bloodless husk."
Tyler considered only for a moment whether Jason was joking or not.
He knew Jason was an evil, horrible man, but to resort to murder to teach his pupil? The moment he heard a rustling in the crate, any doubts he had were erased.
Ignoring all his usual explorations, He jammed his wire into the lock, thrust the pegs against the pressure plate, and shoved open the door.
Jason stood in the hallway beyond, laughing cruelly, "So, now you've learned the value of fast work."
Tyler fled from Jason's academy, fighting back his childish tears. Jason was certain that Tyler would never return to his tutelage, but he considered that he had taught him at last a very valuable lesson.
When he did return the next morning. Jason registered no surprise, but inside he was seething.
"I'll be leaving shortly," Tyler stated, quietly. "But I believe I've developed a new type of lock, and I'd be grateful if you'd give me your opinion of it."
Jason shrugged and asked him to present his design.
"I was wondering if I might use the vampire room and install the lock. I think it would be better if I demonstrated it."
Jason was dubious, but the prospect of the tiresome boy leaving at last put him in an excellent and even indulgent mood. He agreed to give him access to the room.
For all morning and most of the afternoon, Tyler worked near the slumbering vampire, removing the old lock and adding his new prototype. Finally, he asked his old master to take a look.
He studied the lock with an expert eye, and found little to be impressed with.
"This is the first and only pick-proof lock," Tyler explained. "The only way to open it is to have the right key."
Jason scoffed and let Tyler close the door, shutting him in the room.
The door clicked and he began to go to work. To his dismay, the lock was much more difficult than he thought it would be.
He tried all his methods to force it, and found that he had to resort to his hated student's method of careful and thorough exploration.
"I have to leave now!" called Tyler from the other side of the door. "I'm going to call the governmental police. I know that it's against the rules, but I really think it's for the welfare of the city not to have a hungry experiment on the loose. It's getting dark, and even though you aren't able to unlock the door, the vampire might be less proud about using the key to escape. Remember when you said "If I put the key in the lock right infront of you, you'd still never get around to opening it'?"
"Wait!" Jason yelled back frantically. "I'll use the key! Where is it? You forgot to give it to me!"
But there was no reply, only the sound of footsteps disappearing down the corridor beyond the door.
Jason began to work harder on the lock, but his hands were shaking with fear.
With no windows, it was impossible to tell how late it was getting to be. Were minutes that were flying by or hours? He only knew that the experiment gone wrong would know.
The tools could not stand very much twisting and tapping from Jason's hysterical, sweaty hands. The wire snapped in the keyhole.
Just like a student. Jason screamed and pounded on the door, but he knew that no one could possibly hear him.
It was while sucking in his breath to scream again, he heard the distinct creak of the crate opening behind him.
Pasty white flesh hung thinly on the tarnished bones. appearing as though the skin was invisible. A gaunt face with every bone detail on display, a few greasy white strings of hair stuck to the fermenting skull along with distant, hollow black eyes.
The experimental vampire regarded the master locksmith with insane, hungry eyes, and flew at him in a frenzy. Before Jason was ripped to shreds, he saw it.
On a chain that had been placed around the vampire's neck while it had been sleeping was a little shiny brass key.
