"And there you have it. The notorious hacker group: The 404’s are responsible for all the mayhem in New York City. It is strongly advised that at the first signs of being hacked you report it to the authorities, so it can be handled. Remember if you see any of these people or if you have any information regarding them, call the below number."
*Sketches of Mac and a few other 404 members flash across the screen, along with an 1800 number*
"These people are terrorists and must be apprehended before they can wreak more havoc upon America. It is our duty as U.S. citizens to do-"
*Sketches of Mac and a few other 404 members flash across the screen, along with an 1800 number*
"These people are terrorists and must be apprehended before they can wreak more havoc upon America. It is our duty as U.S. citizens to do-"
"Apprehend my ass! Fuck that whore Connie Chen, her taint has done more to damage America than we ever have."
The angry yelling was quickly followed by a beer bottle shattering against a concrete wall. Its target had been the television, but because it was a hologram model, it simply went through the image that was Connie Chen. The woman was a news anchor who worked for Channel 8 News, which was broadcasting a special report on hackers. Somehow they had found out about a few crews, one of which was the 404's who they made the scapegoat of NYC. What was even more amazing was that they were able to produce images of a few members.
"And who the hell is that supposed to be? I know I'm not the prettiest guy, but damn..."
His reference was to a sketch done of a supposed member of 404. It had no name under it, but any well connected hacker would know the image as Mac Alastar, better known as Shortcut. He knew their sources weren't too great, since they didn't even list him as the leader of the 404's. However that was all irrelevant now; he was highly irritated and without beverage, so there weremore important matters at hand.
Leaping from the ragged chair, he set route for the kitchen, his long red dreads swaying behind him as he did so. Upon reaching the refrigerator one of the said dreads extended and wrapped around the handle before pulling. As the door swung open, his eyes wasted no time searching for the ice cold beer.
"Fuck me sideways."
To his dismay, there was no more of the refreshing drink. It seemed the last bottle had been wasted in his outburst. Although there was a carton of milk; he decided it will have to quench his thirst. Reluctantly he gulped down the liquid of which he considered to be some kin to poison.
"Ugh, Cow's urine... I didn't like this shit when I was 6 and I definitely don't like it now."
Simply tossing the carton to the floor, he moved on. It would be a good idea to send everyone a clip of the broadcast, so that was his next task. A blink of the eye was only required to activate his GLOVE. Like the flicker of a TV set, the HUD appeared in front of him as he began to manipulate it. Mac was a lazy one and if possible he always avoided using his hands and instead used his long dreads. Together the eight locks, sifted through the many screens until landing upon his email. Attaching the video from his memory banks, he then selected the recipients and hit send.
"Medicine time!”
Now outside of the main building, Mac sat softly on the metal stairs and slipped his hands inside his pockets. In his hand sat a smattering of things: plastic baggie, lighter, and paper. Gently dumping the contents of the bag onto the paper, he evenly separated it, forming a vertical line. Then rolling tightly, he placed the finished product to his lips and held it firmly. Finally he ignited the tip and watched it burn. He inhaled long and deep, before letting the smoke escape through his nostrils. His body fell back to the floor, a wide grin tugging at his face.
"Λατρεύω το ζιζάνιο..."