03-02-2014, 03:06 PM
Jaxen drummed his fingers on the desk, waiting with playful curiosity to see what would happen. Part of him would be disappointed if he was dealing with a bot, after all. There simply was no joy in besting something without anima, a soul that knew it'd been beat - by him.
The seconds passed without response. He worried his partner in crime was gone. Maybe it error'd. Maybe his path really had trapped it in some never-ending loop. Shame, really. Maybe he should go back to digging for clues after all. He was here for a purpose after all.
With a sigh, he started to move on. He amended his searches to a certain range of years before Baccarat opened, but something started to go wrong. He opened one file, and instead found himself reading another. Phrases were switched. File paths were crossing over one another.
His frown cocked his head to one side. That's when it hit him. This was no error. It was a rally. A clever little virus injected into his own searching, like giving a hiker a corrupted GPS and telling them to find their way out of the woods. He had no idea where he was going, except that he was being led around to random files.
He laughed to himself, and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. This was a person after all!
First thing first, Jaxen had to send a tracker after whatever had corrupted his searches. It was all on their end, as it seemed nothing had leeched into his system. As soon as the sweepers cleaned it out, the Baccarat's servers would probably log it as a minor, self-correcting glitch and not raise any red flags. This one knew what he/she was doing.
Things were back in order soon enough, and Jax greedily rubbed his palms together. Once in the clear, he set out to hone in on their IP address, but quickly realized he was bounced around the globe by their own deflections. His own, of course, was far removed from reality, but he didn't particularly care about getting caught with illegal internet traffic, he only liked to know how shallow he could hide and still be overlooked by authorities.
At the end of his ideas, he tapped the pads of his fingers together again, eyes narrowed, and imagination flying. Soon, he jumped up to go through on a pair of pants, if only for the habit of pulling the drawstring around his hips. He tossed on a pair of Oculi glasses and headset next, and fired up the immersive system that ran them. It was virtual reality at its best. The industry developed for gaming, but these days, anyone as talented as his new little friend should have access to at least a first generation pair. Grandmothers skyped their grandkids with Oculi, after all.
The glasses powered up, and he scrolled through his favorite selections for his own "profile." There was a chick he sometimes he masqueraded around as. He liked to call her Jezebel, or Jessie for short. Yeah. He had a lot of time on his hands the past few years. But no, he wasn't in the mood for her today. He went with a generic man of western European descent: nicely styled hair, slacks, t-shirt and loafers.
Once ready, he unplugged one of his hidden ports that could lead her to their virtual room. The thrill of meeting another hacker as good as him bounced him up. He paced back and forth behind his chair. His avatar - meanwhile - paced as well. He hadn't had time to set up anything more than a standard gray walled, empty cube. So the view wasn't impressive, but he bit back a grin - if only to keep his avatar from grinning like a fool.
The seconds passed without response. He worried his partner in crime was gone. Maybe it error'd. Maybe his path really had trapped it in some never-ending loop. Shame, really. Maybe he should go back to digging for clues after all. He was here for a purpose after all.
With a sigh, he started to move on. He amended his searches to a certain range of years before Baccarat opened, but something started to go wrong. He opened one file, and instead found himself reading another. Phrases were switched. File paths were crossing over one another.
His frown cocked his head to one side. That's when it hit him. This was no error. It was a rally. A clever little virus injected into his own searching, like giving a hiker a corrupted GPS and telling them to find their way out of the woods. He had no idea where he was going, except that he was being led around to random files.
He laughed to himself, and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. This was a person after all!
First thing first, Jaxen had to send a tracker after whatever had corrupted his searches. It was all on their end, as it seemed nothing had leeched into his system. As soon as the sweepers cleaned it out, the Baccarat's servers would probably log it as a minor, self-correcting glitch and not raise any red flags. This one knew what he/she was doing.
Things were back in order soon enough, and Jax greedily rubbed his palms together. Once in the clear, he set out to hone in on their IP address, but quickly realized he was bounced around the globe by their own deflections. His own, of course, was far removed from reality, but he didn't particularly care about getting caught with illegal internet traffic, he only liked to know how shallow he could hide and still be overlooked by authorities.
At the end of his ideas, he tapped the pads of his fingers together again, eyes narrowed, and imagination flying. Soon, he jumped up to go through on a pair of pants, if only for the habit of pulling the drawstring around his hips. He tossed on a pair of Oculi glasses and headset next, and fired up the immersive system that ran them. It was virtual reality at its best. The industry developed for gaming, but these days, anyone as talented as his new little friend should have access to at least a first generation pair. Grandmothers skyped their grandkids with Oculi, after all.
The glasses powered up, and he scrolled through his favorite selections for his own "profile." There was a chick he sometimes he masqueraded around as. He liked to call her Jezebel, or Jessie for short. Yeah. He had a lot of time on his hands the past few years. But no, he wasn't in the mood for her today. He went with a generic man of western European descent: nicely styled hair, slacks, t-shirt and loafers.
Once ready, he unplugged one of his hidden ports that could lead her to their virtual room. The thrill of meeting another hacker as good as him bounced him up. He paced back and forth behind his chair. His avatar - meanwhile - paced as well. He hadn't had time to set up anything more than a standard gray walled, empty cube. So the view wasn't impressive, but he bit back a grin - if only to keep his avatar from grinning like a fool.