Setting
Description/location:
Here in the midst of old abandoned Subway Tunnels, rest their base. Because of the location, it makes tracing them a very hard thing to do, it also gives them a lot of privacy.
Purpose: This is The 404's new Head Quarters. They used to have one in Seattle, but do to personal reasons, they relocated to New York City.
Structure: The base is all on one floor, but is very large and spacious. It used to be a underground subway car depot. There are two main structures: the tracks and the main building.
The main building is the real HQ and of course you know what the tracks are for. There is one subway car, but the crew is always bring a new one into the depot.
The main building, houses a kitchen, bathrooms, a gathering area, and small room with 2 bunk beds. The gathering area has been changed into a tech room; since a number of computer screens, wires, and other hardware are scattered about.
Decor: Despite the look, this base is littered with state of the art technology and since they tap into other buildings power, they aren't noticed on the power grid.
The basic make of everything is either concrete or steel. The place is nothing great, but acceptable to live in. Furniture is nothing special either, it is very old and mostly things from past days.
Security:
It isn't anything like fort knox, but it works for them. They have hooked up cameras along nearby tunnels.
Setting
0.00 INK
*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..."
Setting
0.00 INK
A hundred and fifty years of fiddling and computer advancement and Vista still had its ability to annoy. Gates was lucky to have gotten Seven out when he did before the entire PC community rioted against him. Or switched to alternatives. What? She researched from time to time about her ancient software's terrible reputation. Didn't seem like much of a fuss, to be honest.
Just she was still starting at the little red-rimmed box telling her that the software was still installing. So the drumming or box-riding didn't stop. The only light was that and the slow glowing of the hardware pak on another flight case, projecting the little installer box.
93%, 94%, 95%
Bing! She snapped out of her strange, impatient trance to see the mail icon display that a new message had arrived, rather proudly too. She pointed to the little envelope then scanned over the message. The video played.
Blah, blah, beware, beware of the evil hackers, blah blah, we're pinning it on the nearest blob of evil so you'll look that way and not at the mutants we've got in the basement, blah, blah, blah-YES! I'm on TV!
This was turned into a little chant.
"Tyro the fourth is on TV! Tyro the fourth is on TV!" Bing! "The program has finished. The program has finished." Finally! She leapt up and grabbed the nearest case. She flipped it open and prised the black plastic apart.
A perfect replica of her own head.
Setting
0.00 INK
But the more accurate the better, her mind reassured her. The rest of her mind reached a consensus backing that statement up. Still didn't make it any less creepy.
A little click and lights came on. The hologram screen began to fill with life. A sine wave started to move, worming its way across the screen continuously. The second Dana stood up straight from her slight slouch as the real one began pulling wires free from the chest cavity. The chest closed shut with escaped jets of gas then a click.
Ummm...diagnostic or clothes? Good to make sure this thing works right? Dana keyed in the first of the androids little tests with the GLOVE. Two seconds for the GLOVE to connect aaaaaand...
"Bonjour Dana. J'espère que vous trouverez la nouvelle vous à votre goût." Came a flat version of Dana's vocal register in faultless French. It began to take a few steps towards Dana. "Cette Dana va s'assurer que vous ne venez pas de mal. Je veux te voir à nouveau. Sains et saufs." The machine planted a peck on each of Dana's cheeks. "Je viendrai vous voir quand il est sûr. Prenez soin. Jaque."
Awwwww!! He sent me a little message...It's coming from a naked robot of me but....She turns and brings up the E-Mail client in a flash.
Setting
0.00 INK
"I think I'm a clone now!" She began singing into the room then immediately stopped. "Wait!"
"What?" Came her voice a second time from behind the door frame.
"Where did Mac go?"
"Mac?"
"Yeah! Mac! Cool dreadlocks but swears too much." A second Dana slipped into the room, looking around.
"How much is too much then?"
"My cousin used to say he said 'fuck' like punctuation." Dana said as she moves to the couch, surrounding, matted carpet drenched with milky beer. "An' drank like he had something against his liver." She didn't smile at Mac's abuse, more took it as part of the long list of things she ought to fix.
"Our cousin might have been close to him." This Dana placed her hands in her pockets.
"I wouldn't know. He's said nothing much about the 404's."
"We could find Mac."
"Yeah! I thought we'd freak him out a little." Both Dana's grinned.
"One of us should walk down the street past him before the other so that It looks like we walked down it twice!"
"Or! We could pop-up at different times and look like Whack-a-mole!"
"No, no! One of us walks up to him, talks to him, walks off then the other talks to him again, saying all the same stuff." They giggled as they walked through the doorway.
"Or maybe one of us should walk into a building then walk immediately out!"
- 4 posts here • Page 1 of 1