Hacker Disaster
Marcus looked around the Library, now his domain.
His cane tapped against the floor with each step, a rhythm echoing in the otherwise quiet space.
The fluorescent lights buzzed softly overhead; roombas marched diligently around, cleaning the space. Shadow stood beside him still wearing the guise of the Librarian, mask and all, standing unnaturally still.
On his desk, an envelope sat waiting—the package marked "From the Rat."
Marcus paused, then moved towards it.
He picked it up, feeling the weight of destiny in his hands.
Sliding a finger under the flap, he tore it open with a crisp rip.
Inside, a small USB drive glinted in the light. Holding it up, Marcus studied it closely.
His mind churned with possibilities and dangers this small device could hold.
"System," Marcus called out, his voice steady, "What can you tell me about this USB?"
[Processing.]
[Device contains encrypted files. Decrypting will require a higher skill in Programming.]
Marcus frowned.
A new skill, then. Programming II. It would be essential.
"I need Programming II," he stated firmly.
[Cost: 250 AP. Proceed?]
"Proceed," Marcus confirmed.
[Skill Acquired: Programming II.]
[You have 0 AP remaining.]
Marcus winced. He had wanted to use the AP he got from his recent missions to buy the Gas Weapon System skill, but this took precedence.
He plugged the USB into his computer. Lines of code filled the screen.
Marcus's fingers danced over the keyboard, his mind now filled with newfound knowledge of decrypting techniques.
The process was laborious, but he could keep up. After several long minutes, a folder opened.
Success, or so it seemed.
Suddenly, an odd pop-up appeared.
The screen flickered in and out.
A laugh echoed through the Library, not human, but digital.
"Well, well, well! What do we have here?"
The voice was playful, almost mocking, dripping with egotism.
Marcus's eyes widened in realization. This wasn't just any file. This was a trap.
"Who are you?" Marcus demanded.
"The name's Hacker. The best you'll ever encounter. And lucky you, Mr. Black sends his regards," the voice replied, giggling with malevolent glee.
Marcus tried to regain control of his computer, but nothing worked.
"I'm wiping everything you got. Mr. Black doesn't like loose ends," the Hacker chimed, relishing every word like it was part of a sinister joke.
"What's wrong, old man? Having some technical difficulties? Need a help desk?"
The screen filled with more lines of code.
Files started disappearing one by one.
Marcus's jaw clenched. He felt his power slipping away as the files, his work, his secrets, all vanished.
"No need to fret! Think of it as spring cleaning, courtesy of yours truly!"
The wrist-holo blinked with a final, ominous flash. It was infected too.
"That wrist-holo of yours is ancient! You really couldn't afford a better one? Think of this as a sign for an upgrade."
Marcus's mind raced. The Library was slipping through his fingers.
"Stop this!" he demanded, furious.
"Stop? Oh no—this is just too much fun!" the Hacker mocked. "You should see your face. A picture of utter defeat!"
With every word, more data was erased. The System within him remained silent, unable to counteract the viral attack.
"This is just a game to you," Marcus growled, his voice low and dangerous.
"A game I always win," the Hacker corrected with a laugh. "Sorry, but you knew the risks when you got into bed with Mr. Black. Enjoy the consequences."
With a final laugh, the voice disappeared.
The screens went dark.
The silence that settled over the Library was heavy, suffocating.
Marcus was left staring at the blank screen, helpless rage simmering in his veins.
Years of effort—gone.
His own wrist-holo dimmed, struck by the same virus.
Marcus grappled with the crushing realization. Everything was deleted, all of the black-mail information, all other data, all connections, the Library was just an empty husk now.
Marcus stood motionless, staring at the blank screens, heart pounding, breath shallow.
The walls of the Library seemed to close in around him.
This was a monumental setback.
His fists clenched, knuckles white against the pale skin.
His cane, a tool for aid, felt heavier now, almost mocking him.
The buzzing of the fluorescent lights grew louder in his ears, as though taunting him.
"Curse this treacherous game," Marcus muttered under his breath.
He felt the rage welling up inside, uncontrollable and wild.
Slamming his cane against the floor, the echo resonated, vibrating through the Library.
"System," he hissed, his voice shaking, "why didn't you warn me?"
[Insufficient data at the time. Analysis pending.]
Marcus scoffed.
"Insufficient data?" He repeated, voice rising. "This entire farce has been built on insufficient data!"
He paced back and forth, his thoughts racing.
Anger surged through him like a wildfire.
"God! You set me upon this path!" Marcus shouted to the ceiling, his voice filled with fury.
"Reborn into this frail body, burdened with debt, and now this? You bestow me with this so-called 'System' and then leave me forsaken?"
He swept his arm across the desk, sending books, holotapes, and electronic parts scattering onto the floor.
"Was this your grand plan?" His voice cracked with raw emotion.
"To throw me into a pit of serpents with nothing but whims and whispers as guidance?"
He picked up a nearby chair and hurled it across the room.
It crashed into a pile of old devices, the sound satisfying but hollow.
"You mock me with these trials, these insurmountable odds!" he raged, vision blurring with anger.
He kicked the desk, the pain barely registering through the veil of his fury.
"I was destined to rule! To conquer! And now, I'm reduced to this—groveling in the dirt, empty-handed!"
His breaths came quick and shallow; his whole body shook with rage. His vision narrowed to tunnel, the world a blur of frustration and defeat.
Slowly, a creeping, cold fear began to seep into his consciousness, strangling the heat of his anger.
As the rage subsided, the reality of his situation pressed down upon him like a vise.
Without the data, without the police connections, he was exposed. Vulnerable. He watched numbly as the last remnants of his tantrum settled around him.
The Library, once a haven of information and power, now sat desolate and empty.
Marcus's chest tightened. The raw edge of fear clawed at his throat.
"What…what have I done?" he whispered, the cold reality sinking in.
There was nothing left to shield him from those who sought his demise.
No leverage. No protection.
Mr. Black had stripped him bare, leaving Marcus as nothing more than prey in the eyes of his hunters and the voice had said so, Mr. Black doesn't like loose ends.
His trembling hands reached for his wrist, the infected holo barely flickering.
"Shadow?" he croaked, his voice barely a whisper.
"Yes creator?" it responded, it sounded sensitive as if it knew something was wrong but no fully what, like a child seeing an angry parent.
Marcus felt powerless. alone. Then realization settled into his bones like ice.
A sensation of dread washed over him, far more intense than the anger that had consumed him moments before.
No amount of cunning or skill seemed sufficient now. He hadn't gotten the money from the Black Hoods, his blackmail was gone and the police were fed up with his lies.
Marcus had gambled and he had lost.
Fear gnawed at him, growing stronger with each passing second. Without his tools, without his knowledge, what was he?
A child playing a dangerous game.
He clutched his head, the weight of his circumstances pressing him down. His world, once filled with promise, now teetered on the brink of disaster. His debtors would get him now, and if not them his body would fail soon enough, plagued by disease.
His breaths were ragged, tears of frustration and fear gathering in the corners of his eyes. Emotion long overdue from his first death, the crushing feeling of defeat finally burst through with everything that had happened.
God had placed him here, given him this cursed second chance, and now…
It seemed to be spiraling out of his control.
What was the point of this divine jest?
He had faced death before, but now the specter loomed ever closer, more insidious.
A chill ran down Marcus's spine. Without the police and without the data, there was nothing stopping the assasin anymore. Fear gripped Marcus's heart, immobilizing him as the reality of his situation sank its claws even deeper into his soul.
The door to his labyrinth of despair creaked open just then, and Shadow, disguised as the Librarian, hovered near the entrance, expressionless behind the mask.
Dagger, the Assassin, stood in the shadowed doorway, his presence a dark omen.
But before Marcus could utter a word, a gunshot rang out, shattering the fragile silence.