LJ Idol Season 9, Week 20: "CAPTCHA the Flag" (Intersection)
"Mousetrap"
Trace looked down at the piece of paper in his hand, given to him by the mysterious man in the nice suit. It contained a name and an IP address; everything else he needed to know was contained in the one sentence he had spoken.
"I know he knows something--see if you can find out what it is."
Trace took a deep breath and started up his machinery. One program started attempting username and password combinations, constantly shifting its own markings so it couldn't be locked out. The other found the back door into the program and started to hack away at the human-verification software, with the hope that the two could meet in the middle and break down the wall.
"Every lock can be opened," Trace muttered to himself. "I just have to find the key." As his computerized minions toiled away, Trace decided to create a distraction. Picking up his secure line, he placed a call. After three rings, a voice he didn't expect picked up.
"If this isn't the most handsome man in the world, I'm hanging up." Memories of a dimly-lit nightclub and a wild night flooded Trace's memory, but he kept his composure.
"Guess it's your lucky day."
"Who is this?" The voice was suspicious, as one might expect--you don't get to be the guardian of that kind of operation without an inherent distrust of everything.
"Just an old friend. You don't remember me? Jake? From the nightclub?" Jake wasn't his real name, of course--neither was Trace. He was pretty sure Alice wasn't her real name either--nobody in Trace's world was ever who they claimed to be.
"Yeah, I remember. You left."
"I had somewhere to be."
"Of course. Why are you calling me now?"
"Just wanted to catch up," Trace said, trying to sound casual. "What's new with you? I remember you said you had a new job--where was that again?"
"You know I can't talk about that. And I sure as hell can't talk now--I've got some hacker trying to get into my server."
This, of course, was all according to plan. He knew they'd notice the first rather crude attempts, and devote their efforts to stopping that. They wouldn't be able to track them back to him, though, and while they tried to, he'd sneak through the side door.
"Must be tough keeping the castle walls from crumbling. What's so important inside?" As he spoke, he silently tapped away at his keyboard, setting another subroutine in motion.
"None of your goddamn business. I don't even know why I'm talking to you."
An alert popped up on Trace's screen--someone trying to gain access. He calmly pushed a few more buttons, sending them down the rabbit hole.
"It's because I rocked your world, and you know you can't quit me."
"Guess again, Trace."
He paused. All of his lines of code had stopped streaming across his screens. All that was left was a single message, blinking on the bottom of the screen. "GOODBYE"
"Bitch!" Scrambling out of his chair, he pulled wires out of their places, trying to stop the flow of malicious software onto his machines.
"Too late," a taunting voice came from his phone. "Guess you should've thought about that before trying to take something that wasn't yours."
Standing up and grabbing the handset, Trace began pacing around the cramped space. "Do you have any idea how long it's going to take me to repair things?"
"Oh, poor baby," she said, mocking him with pity. "It's probably going to take weeks, isn't it? And all because you wanted a little information."
*****
Author's note: It's Intersection Week; my partner is the lovely and talented watching_ships. Her entry is linked above; our stories can be read in either order.
Trace looked down at the piece of paper in his hand, given to him by the mysterious man in the nice suit. It contained a name and an IP address; everything else he needed to know was contained in the one sentence he had spoken.
"I know he knows something--see if you can find out what it is."
Trace took a deep breath and started up his machinery. One program started attempting username and password combinations, constantly shifting its own markings so it couldn't be locked out. The other found the back door into the program and started to hack away at the human-verification software, with the hope that the two could meet in the middle and break down the wall.
"Every lock can be opened," Trace muttered to himself. "I just have to find the key." As his computerized minions toiled away, Trace decided to create a distraction. Picking up his secure line, he placed a call. After three rings, a voice he didn't expect picked up.
"If this isn't the most handsome man in the world, I'm hanging up." Memories of a dimly-lit nightclub and a wild night flooded Trace's memory, but he kept his composure.
"Guess it's your lucky day."
"Who is this?" The voice was suspicious, as one might expect--you don't get to be the guardian of that kind of operation without an inherent distrust of everything.
"Just an old friend. You don't remember me? Jake? From the nightclub?" Jake wasn't his real name, of course--neither was Trace. He was pretty sure Alice wasn't her real name either--nobody in Trace's world was ever who they claimed to be.
"Yeah, I remember. You left."
"I had somewhere to be."
"Of course. Why are you calling me now?"
"Just wanted to catch up," Trace said, trying to sound casual. "What's new with you? I remember you said you had a new job--where was that again?"
"You know I can't talk about that. And I sure as hell can't talk now--I've got some hacker trying to get into my server."
This, of course, was all according to plan. He knew they'd notice the first rather crude attempts, and devote their efforts to stopping that. They wouldn't be able to track them back to him, though, and while they tried to, he'd sneak through the side door.
"Must be tough keeping the castle walls from crumbling. What's so important inside?" As he spoke, he silently tapped away at his keyboard, setting another subroutine in motion.
"None of your goddamn business. I don't even know why I'm talking to you."
An alert popped up on Trace's screen--someone trying to gain access. He calmly pushed a few more buttons, sending them down the rabbit hole.
"It's because I rocked your world, and you know you can't quit me."
"Guess again, Trace."
He paused. All of his lines of code had stopped streaming across his screens. All that was left was a single message, blinking on the bottom of the screen. "GOODBYE"
"Bitch!" Scrambling out of his chair, he pulled wires out of their places, trying to stop the flow of malicious software onto his machines.
"Too late," a taunting voice came from his phone. "Guess you should've thought about that before trying to take something that wasn't yours."
Standing up and grabbing the handset, Trace began pacing around the cramped space. "Do you have any idea how long it's going to take me to repair things?"
"Oh, poor baby," she said, mocking him with pity. "It's probably going to take weeks, isn't it? And all because you wanted a little information."
*****
Author's note: It's Intersection Week; my partner is the lovely and talented watching_ships. Her entry is linked above; our stories can be read in either order.