SkyGinge
Sad Shroom
The closet-sized computer room stank of masculine odour, like the changing room at one of those ghastly places where men who resembled oversized hunks of muscle satisfied their animistic violence. Such a compact space offered little in the way of barricade, so all the two men (Stern mainly, as the other man was still too tired and petrified to do much other than control his greedy breaths) managed to do was pile the two chairs against the doorway. All was dark and dim, illuminated only by the faint light of Stern's Comms. It reminded him of his six year old self, clambering through his black home in the dead of night, where everything slept, the only life in a place begotten of everything, like a faded memory.
That went surprisingly well, the men's collective pant was like a mechanical huff, Well, actually, I'll redact 'surprisingly'. Nothing was surprising about it all, in fact; everything went exactly to plan, as normal. A bit more Action-Man than usual, maybe, but it got the job done.
"W-what are we going to do now?" the neanderthal asked.
"It depends on how fast you can type," said Stern, "You're going to have to present your evidence rather promptly before the fed's arrive, or we're going to have less to argue with." Haruda and his crones will have a blast shredding me if this one gets out, but I've enough standing and evidence to survive without major repercussion. Him, on the other hand... his evidence had better be good.
Out there will be swarming with Council ants by the time the power gets on. Stern made this deduction because of the woman he had chair-projectiled, for if she knew where to find him, her crones would too. Little did he know of her true identity. Eli will be en route too, but he won't play my servant unless I'm very tricky about things. Your fate lies with your ability now, hacker-man.
The lights flickered back on. There was a moment's pause, and then the man was off. His hairy fingers rapidly drummed against the keyboard; rapatap-rapatapa-tapatapa-click. Stern held his Comms device up to the screen and flicked a button to record. Because, for oafs like Haruda, seeing is believing.
The computer screen was now littered with a scrawling web of code. Numbering, lettering. Stern liked to imagine that to computers, it was some form of cryptic poetry. Numbering, lettering, rushing across the screen! Stern was memorised by the unknown meanings it held.
A sudden flash, an ear-splitting blast, and bursting flame erupted from the number-spaghetti. The monitor exploded in an impressive boom of light and smoke and debris; wires lashed across the room like plastic tentacles. Stern dived for cover, clattering into the chair-barricade. He heard another thump; the hacker crashing against the wall beside him.
Chaos subsided into a light smoke. Stern coughed, and massaged his shoulder, knocked on impact with the chair. His mind was whirring with deductions and reason, but his body strode on. As the door swung open, he staggered over the the Neanderthal's fallen form, shards of leftover computer lodged in his skull an chest, the sweat of his shirt scorched by the explosion.
The man was dead.
@Ozerath
@Agent Nine
@PKCV2
That went surprisingly well, the men's collective pant was like a mechanical huff, Well, actually, I'll redact 'surprisingly'. Nothing was surprising about it all, in fact; everything went exactly to plan, as normal. A bit more Action-Man than usual, maybe, but it got the job done.
"W-what are we going to do now?" the neanderthal asked.
"It depends on how fast you can type," said Stern, "You're going to have to present your evidence rather promptly before the fed's arrive, or we're going to have less to argue with." Haruda and his crones will have a blast shredding me if this one gets out, but I've enough standing and evidence to survive without major repercussion. Him, on the other hand... his evidence had better be good.
Out there will be swarming with Council ants by the time the power gets on. Stern made this deduction because of the woman he had chair-projectiled, for if she knew where to find him, her crones would too. Little did he know of her true identity. Eli will be en route too, but he won't play my servant unless I'm very tricky about things. Your fate lies with your ability now, hacker-man.
The lights flickered back on. There was a moment's pause, and then the man was off. His hairy fingers rapidly drummed against the keyboard; rapatap-rapatapa-tapatapa-click. Stern held his Comms device up to the screen and flicked a button to record. Because, for oafs like Haruda, seeing is believing.
The computer screen was now littered with a scrawling web of code. Numbering, lettering. Stern liked to imagine that to computers, it was some form of cryptic poetry. Numbering, lettering, rushing across the screen! Stern was memorised by the unknown meanings it held.
A sudden flash, an ear-splitting blast, and bursting flame erupted from the number-spaghetti. The monitor exploded in an impressive boom of light and smoke and debris; wires lashed across the room like plastic tentacles. Stern dived for cover, clattering into the chair-barricade. He heard another thump; the hacker crashing against the wall beside him.
Chaos subsided into a light smoke. Stern coughed, and massaged his shoulder, knocked on impact with the chair. His mind was whirring with deductions and reason, but his body strode on. As the door swung open, he staggered over the the Neanderthal's fallen form, shards of leftover computer lodged in his skull an chest, the sweat of his shirt scorched by the explosion.
The man was dead.
@Ozerath
@Agent Nine
@PKCV2