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Ben Gracen

Hacker. 28. Former CIA.

0 · 178 views · located in The Real World, 2015

a character in “The Internationals”, as played by Syreaa



His personality tends to flow into his clothing. He is always well groomed, looking like he belongs with a camera and a model rather than behind a computer or on the front lines. Years as a man hiding who he really was, answering the beck and call of the CIA, forced him to appreciate looking like a harmless citizen. He isn't much of a large gun man, he likes to stick to his Glock. (See equipment for more details.) He maintains a nice bit of scruff around his face; if he needs to do something that requires him to look very professional, he'll cut it off in a second. Most of his clothing may seem to be there only for looks, but they're all fully functional in any situation he feels he will be tackling that day. All of his shoes are run-ready, all of his pants can hide weapons, and all of his shirts are weather-ready.

For more, see him here:


How do you describe a spy's personality? There is a real Ben Gracen, buried somewhere deep beneath the other personae he's donned on throughout the years, stacked and piled on top of one another until he can't even distinguish the truth from fiction anymore. Maybe that's what makes him a good spy--emotions can't get in the way when you don't know when you're feeling it or faking it. He is so young, recruited a little too early and thrust into the world of hiding and killing. From the beginning he knew this would mean life, whether as the CIA's bitch, or under the foot of Interpol, maybe even--god forbid--the FBI. He hides his fears beneath arrogance and a nonchalant attitude towards everything. But just because he's smiling and laughing doesn't mean he's afraid. No one can really know what he's thinking because he hides all of it behind a thick wall of training and acting. No one breaches his wall and no one squirms their way under his skin and notices. He will slap on a huge grin, even if he's dying. He knows how important the ability to look in control is, and he utilizes that. As far as love interests go, he's not one for long term romance, but he's been around.


Glock 17 Gen4
Cellphone (Blackberry, CIA issue)


Born in Lawrence, Kansas to Jim and Lauren Gracen, Ben grew up an only child in a small town. 1987. He was a child of the nineties, learning and growing with the technology of his time. When he finished high school in 2006 he was too poor to go to college and his grades didn't reflect his real brain power. He wanted a degree in computers, so he signed up with the army. Instead of being shipped off to college to learn, the CIA came to visit. His entrance exams showed that he would do well with them, and they seduced him with ideas of being in recon, the glamorous life of an agent. The first four years he spent in a dimly lit room with his mentor and best friend, Zachariah. Ben learned how to work computers and their subsequent networks, but more than that, he learned how to use that. The CIA sent him to acting classes, taught him body language. He speaks four languages other than English fluently (German, French, Spanish, Russian) and he can pick out words in a dozen other. His combat classes were less than satisfactory, with his mastery of hand-to-hand combat taking the length of his entire stay with the CIA (and he's still not very good at it). He can shoot a gun, but that doesn't mean he'll always hit his exact target, so he often shoots more than necessary. He can't shoot a rifle to save his life and anything bigger than his Glock scares the living hell out of him.

He was bred as a grifter, a face man to get others into a situation or get himself to a computer. While he spent most of his time behind a desk in his office, he also did field missions. The CIA supplied him with a multitude of identities, most of which he still has access too. Because of his time as a spy he made a lot of connections, but most of them were odd, offbeat people that weren't all that reliable. (But they were good at what ever they did.) His most valuable asset remains his hacking abilities. There is one dark smudge: a rumor that he once sold out his partner and killed his mentor, Zachariah. No one has been able to prove this.

The Hacker Manifesto
+++The Mentor+++

Written January 8, 1986

Another one got caught today, it’s all over the papers. “Teenager Arrested in Computer Crime Scandal”, “Hacker Arrested after Bank Tampering”…
Damn kids. They’re all alike.
But did you, in your three-piece psychology and 1950’s technobrain, ever take a look behind the eyes of the hacker? Did you ever wonder what made him tick, what forces shaped him, what may have molded him?
I am a hacker, enter my world…
Mine is a world that begins with school… I’m smarter than most of the other kids, this crap they teach us bores me…
Damn underachiever. They’re all alike.
I’m in junior high or high school. I’ve listened to teachers explain for the fifteenth time how to reduce a fraction. I understand it. “No, Ms. Smith, I didn’t show my work. I did it in my head…”
Damn kid. Probably copied it. They’re all alike.
I made a discovery today. I found a computer. Wait a second, this is cool. It does what I want it to. If it makes a mistake, it’s because I screwed it up. Not because it doesn’t like me… Or feels threatened by me.. Or thinks I’m a smart ass.. Or doesn’t like teaching and shouldn’t be here…
Damn kid. All he does is play games. They’re all alike.
And then it happened… a door opened to a world… rushing through the phone line like heroin through an addict’s veins, an electronic pulse is sent out, a refuge from the day-to-day incompetencies is sought… a board is found. “This is it… this is where I belong…” I know everyone here… even if I’ve never met them, never talked to them, may never hear from them again… I know you all…
Damn kid. Tying up the phone line again. They’re all alike…
You bet your ass we’re all alike… we’ve been spoon-fed baby food at school when we hungered for steak… the bits of meat that you did let slip through were pre-chewed and tasteless. We’ve been dominated by sadists, or ignored by the apathetic. The few that had something to teach found us willing pupils, but those few are like drops of water in the desert.
This is our world now… the world of the electron and the switch, the beauty of the baud. We make use of a service already existing without paying for what could be dirt-cheap if it wasn’t run by profiteering gluttons, and you call us criminals. We explore… and you call us criminals. We seek after knowledge… and you call us criminals. We exist without skin color, without nationality, without religious bias… and you call us criminals. You build atomic bombs, you wage wars, you murder, cheat, and lie to us and try to make us believe it’s for our own good, yet we’re the criminals.
Yes, I am a criminal. My crime is that of curiosity. My crime is that of judging people by what they say and think, not what they look like. My crime is that of outsmarting you, something that you will never forgive me for.
I am a hacker, and this is my manifesto. You may stop this individual, but you can’t stop us all… after all, we’re all alike.

(The above is an anonymously written manifesto. I do not own it.)

For information on me, please see: (My writing blog)

My two roleplays:

(Due to complications I had to leave When the Lion Wakes, but the posts I have on there should show my level of skill.)

I also have other writing, mostly short stories, if you'd like anything else.

So begins...

Ben Gracen's Story