Summary:
June 14 2014 Two hackers meet in a place that is not a place.
Cyberspace: Edge of the Polyglobal Server Farm
For most people cyberspace is just a thing they look at through a web browser. For Aspect and Oracle, it's as real as anything else.
Characters
NPCs
*
Mood Music:
[*]
Physically, Jericho Trent hasn't moved in a few hours. At present he's reclining in a chair in Partisan's safe house, after having gotten some dinner and appears to be napping. He isn't. Jericho may be reclining and getting comfortable, but Aspect is quite active. He doesn't talk to people much about it because few would understand, but allowing himself to be immersed in the digital world really is like stepping into another world for him. He perceives firewalls as actual obstacles, network nodes as rooms, data streams as glowing rivers of code. It's all rather surreal, but it enables him to more easily get about the info-grid when he doesn't have to worry about, say, driving, or fighting or flying.
Presently he's skulking, yes, skulking, at the edge of a network belonging to the Polyglobal Corporation and regarding a set of data streams running off toward Stark Industries servers with a sour, and suspicious look.
*
From her room, Oracle is sitting before the glowing monitors, her fingers resting on the wheels of her chair, watching the world stream past, digital lines, glowing against a black background. Something, a glitch, a small change, brings her attention to one screen. She leans forward, nudging her glasses up her nose, her face thoughtful. Then she smiles, a slow one, and reaches for the keyboard, moving her digital self - the glowing green lines that make up her digital symbol - into the flowing code nearer Aspect. No connection is made, or offered, for the moment, she just watches.
*
Aspect, as Aspect, has gotten quite adept at hiding his presence as something innocuous, but one cannot move through the digital sea without making a few ripples. The areas near this server are pretty public, though mostly deserted of all but automated traffic - a clunky bit of code that he sees as a spider with a rather distinctly Google shaped body trundles by in it's never ending quest to catalog the entire web - and Bab's approach doesn't set off any of his alarms. Indeed, he's not really paying that much attention to her. The information he needs is… well, possibly not on this server truth be told, but he may find something that explains the frustrating litany of dead ends and too-sanitized-files he's been encountering lately. "Okay…" He says to himself, reaching out to make a connection with the firewall. "Let's see what you're about." The color of the wall shifts as he probes it for back doors or other weaknesses he might exploit.
*
Oracle observes in silence, as Babs leans back in her chair for a moment, watching him, her fingers absently playing with one of the wheels. Her expression is thoughtful, the flicker of a frown appearing between her eyebrows as he begins to probe the firewall. She flicks to another screen, acting to strengthen that wall in front of him, inserting a false weakness that leads purely to a collection of information gathered purely for this. Then, under his exploration, she eases the color of that part of the wall, making it appear that he has found that back wall. Then she sits back, watching his response.
*
A flicker of code whispers past Aspect's digital awareness. He pauses, examining the 'back door'. This one is fairly well hidden. The hunted hacker has had time to develop a relatively healthy set of paranoia. He prods it the false door, sending a few innocuous bits of code through to see what the return is. Most people can't match him in this arena. He simply has too many advantages, however he's playing it safe. She's got his attention though and his digital presence moves closer. He's already realigning his data stream to slip though if his packets return the expected results.
*
Babs' fingers fly into action, a nudge to her glasses made as she leans forward, the packets returned to him with information that he might expect, carefully sculpted to look entirely routine, entirely routine. Breadcrumbs as a trail, offering so much more at the end, a gentle resistance to his probe to hint that he found something hidden, unknown, unintended. Her digital avatar is well hidden, a practiced ghost in the machine, luring her prey into the digital net she had crafted.
*
Jericho taps his left forearm in careful haptic patterns repeating the process a couple more times, with subtle variations. Were the person on the other end less than Babs, he'd probably catch them in the act. As it is, he's satisfied after a few minutes of probing that it's, if not completely safe, then worth following up on. His data stream slips through Bab's false door and into her data cache in the space of a handful of heartbeats.
*
Behind him, the digital door is closed, the glowing blue blocks becoming impregnable once more, a trap designed to hold him a little time. Oracle's digital presence is there, observing him, a message sliding into that stream before him. "Greetings, Aspect. Welcome…I assure you, I mean you no harm at this stage." The green avatar is there, visible, and the files vanish, leaving the two of them in the digital vault she had created. "Talk to me about Abbot Laboratories."
*
Gods, this guy is jumpy. The moment the route out closes behind him there's a detectable surge in processing power. Custom rig indeed. Defenses intended to scramble forced connections slide into place and it's a good sixty seconds his presence just sits there, regarding hers, before he reaches out and carefully manipulates the same data stream she inserted her message into. "Who, exactly, are you? And how do you know my handle?" He hasn't killed the connection yet… mostly because she hasn't tried to trace him yet. Which is unusual for a sysadmin. So who, he wonders, is this?
*
No trace indeed, and she doesn't touch him, keeping that defense in place, a response to his surge with her own, a rig that requires a tower to hold all of it. "I am Oracle. I know many things. Talk to me about Abbot Laboratories. I know you were in the Themyscrian Embassy looking for them." Her fingers fly over the keyboard, meeting his efforts with her own, her lips curved into a smile, the pleasure of meeting someone equal to her own abilities rare enough.
*
There are subtle hints. Little tells in the way Aspect armors himself, and the methods he uses to 'look' at Bab's digital persona that tell an experienced hacker that the platform Aspect is using is anything but commercial. Not Windows, this, nor even an industrial strength Unix derviative. No, this is rugged to a degree that almost suggests weaponization. Military, then?
Jericho decides to hold off further escalation as Babs checks his efforts. Interesting. She's may be playing on his level. Perhaps conversation, then. He does quietly ready a decryption program that's… exceedingly unsubtle, but keeps it in his buffer. "Oracle, mmm? I don't recall making a trip to Delphi. You'll forgive my suspicion, but what's your interest in either Abbot Laboratories? Or, for that matter the Themyescrians? I don't recommend that hack, by the way. They have some very… active security precautions."
*
Oracle's digital presence is smooth, and she makes no effort to stop him looking at her. The processing power behind the digital life is massive, the system custom built, with no hint of windows or unix, but something subtle. "My interest was piqued by your actions, actually. I had a little look afterwards." His comment about the Themyescrians earns a sense of amusement, and agreement. "More now I imagine. In this case, Delphi comes to you, Aspect. Consider me a curious bystander…" A digital chuckle offered. "After that, I did a little looking around. It seems Abbot are expanding their interests…?"
*
"Yeah." Jericho mutters in the privacy of the safe house. "See if I hack the place again while sharing a hemisphere with the good ambassador." His processor use ramps down a little, almost like a fighter relaxing. "Quite skilled for a curious bystander." He puts into the conversation-stream they're no sharing. "Yes, Abbot is expanding and I was looking at them… if you're sure you want to be involved in this… then know that I was looking at them for their connection to recently released mutant geno-therapy techniques strikingly similar to ones recently announced by the Polyglobal Corporation. The two seem to have a link and I'm not sure it's entirely above board. I hear things, sometimes, in the darker corners of the info grid. Things about medical research and people disappearing." Rumors, really, but rumors that begin to fit a picture that's starting to emerge. One that Aspect finds rather horrifying.
*
Babs leans back, studying his words, the digital silence for a long moment a response to his information. Her hands drop to the chair, rubbing the wheels for an instant, before she pushes her glasses back up, leaning forward to reply. "Thank you. I practice here and there." Amusement comes through in her tone, the typed words still projecting the emotion, "Interesting. I saw this…" A flash of a number of social media sites, seeking homeless people that had vanished, a series of seemingly unconnected events across the country. His response is observed for a moment, and she adds quietly, "I'm interested. Tell me more, Aspect."
*
Aspect's digital avatar actually emotes quite well. It's an advantage, and sometimes disadvantage, of having your computer hooked up to your brain. "Perhaps this will pique your interest then. A week ago, someone attempted a kidnapping on a woman named Emony Alderisi at a charity ball, with the apparent intent to replace her with an android. Ms. Alderisi runs the Caduceus Initiative, a non-profit that brings medicine and medical care to mutants specifically, and is responsible for the bulk of the medical aid that flows into New York's M-Town. Did you notice, by the way, how many of those missing are Mutants?"
He's being cagy, here, careful. He doesn't know what's safe to release to her, so he mentions things she may have culled from the news to gage her reactions to it.
*
The flare of interest is brief, the increase in processing power as she leans forward, her fingers flying over the computer's keyboard, one paused only to push her glasses up her nose. "These." The reply shows her hooked interested, a homeless reports divided swiftly into mutant and not, some of them revealed to be privately so, hidden data acquired. "More than not." She turns her gaze to another screen, frowning slightly, as she looks into the attempt on Emony, silent and still in that shared data stream for a moment. "Any data on who was behind that?" In turn, she is testing him, against the data she has just gathered, the exploration of the public and private information she can reach on the event.
*
The attempt on Emony was rather… high profile. In fact it occurred at a Stark Foundation Gala that Princess Diana of Themyscria attended. There's some evidence to suggest that the hotel's computer systems were compromised during the event, though how is something still being investigated. The suspect in custody, one Raphael O'Mally doesn't have the requisite skills.
*
"Let me refine some of that data for you." Another block of data pushes into the stream, this one highlighting the missing person reports by locations. A very, very high number of them have occurred in M-Town itself and within 3 miles of it's borders. "Suspicions only. And even if I'm correct, the organization responsible is likely acting through proxies and catspaws. I am, however, quite certain that Abbot Laboratories is connected, somehow. Polyglobal, you see, is a front and it seems too convenient for me that Abbot's therapeutic techniques should find their way into Polyglobal's pharmaceutical clutches."
*
The data is picked up, and she manipulates it in the stream, spreading it out, reorganizing it into lines, connections, done swiftly and skillfully in front of him. "The organisation?" The question is brief, the processing thrown at the data work, and she pulls more information into the stream, mixing other information - emails from within Abbot, internet rumors, board posts. That is sorted, thrown around, her mind working swiftly to see the links, the processing power designed for this. "I think we need to get to Raphael, and see … yes… I think a look behind that computer glitch there." She pauses for a moment, "Ah, you think Hydra." She sits back, watching his response to those words.
*
"Yes, I rather do. Raphael was, last I heard, being booked by NYPD, but his Hydra connections, if they check out and I suspect they will, may land him in a… more secure facility rather soon." Aspect pauses. "And I don't like one bit the fact that they seem to be branching out into mutant medicine. Not one bit at all."
*
"Hmmm." The sound is interested, thoughtful, "Well, I may look into it more, I don't like this overly." There is a pause, and the avatar turns, the amusement rising in her tone as she asks, "Is it true she lassoed you? I wonder if I can find video online…"
*
If Aspect could raise an eyebrow and have Oracle see it, he would. "Not if I'm lucky, you can't." Pause. "But yes, she did. And I have never been more deeply uncomfortable in my entire life. Which, just so you know, includes a history of being deeply uncomfortable so that's saying something. I just… couldn't stop myself from answering her questions. No matter how much I wished otherwise. Sort of like being disconnected from your body."
*
"I'll have to look and see if I can find that… " Amusement can be heard in those words, and the data stream reflects the search, shown to him deliberately before a CCTV footage comes up, showing precisely that moment of his life. She leans forward, studying the face of the man intently for a long moment. "Interesting. She does have a way about her. Perhaps stay away from their systems?"
*
"Y'think?" Two very interesting things about this man stand out. One is the coat he's wearing. It's long sleeved and leather. In the middle of summer. The second is how very boring he is to look at right up until he gets lassoed. He's not an unattractive man. To be sure he's no Clark Kent either, but the level of simply uninteresting he projects up until he gets roped is such that he can only be intentionally doing it. Most folks, it's not hard to imagine, wouldn't have given him a second look. Pity Diana isn't most folks.
*
"Well, you never know how stubborn someone might be." The laughter in her voice is reflect as Babs leans back in her chair, her lips curving into a smile, the green eyes amused. "You manage to hide yourself well, in plain sight." The words are soft and then Babs shakes her head, sitting forward once more, "It has been a pleasure, Aspect, we shall talk again." And the digital room dissolves, firmly depositing him onto the outside of the firewall once more, her trace dissolving.
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