Chapter 22

Hackers in Anogwin have a unique social structure. There are four types of hackers named after the suits in a deck of playing cards. Ethical hackers are called Hearts, while illegal hackers are called Spades. Mercenary hackers that may or may not be legally certified are called Diamonds. Lastly, hacker activists (often simply called hacktivists), and terrorists are called Clubs. A unified group of hackers is called a Deck and are labeled either Black or Red, depending on what they specialize in. Black decks specialize in offensive actions both in cyberspace and the physical world, while red decks specialize in defensive actions. A hacker’s rank in the deck is based on their skill, ability, and knowledge, ranking from 2 to 10. Circuit class mages, the most dangerous among hackers, are ranked from Jack to Ace. Anyone in a deck that is labeled as a Joker has been identified as a possible turncoat.

If I had known what the informant’s species was, I likely would never have entered the Undercity. It was an Arachnyte. The least disturbing feature of the creature was its slender and long head with lengthy silver dreadlocks tied back in a high-set tail. Its eyes, all four of them, were almost like an Elf’s, with colored sclera and irises. Black sclera around pale gray irises seated with slit pupils. The innermost pair of eyes were so large that I felt uncomfortable under the weight of its scrutinizing gaze on me. The outer pair of eyes were even smaller than Ceangar’s. Its bottom jaw was split in half and displayed a visible row of needle-point teeth set with almost a whole inch between each tooth. Its brown skin was a color and tone that could be easily found in Humans, Elves, Ceangar, and Dwarves. The skin color was fine, the eyes were unnerving, and its jaw made me uncomfortable. None of those were my biggest issue. I was even fine with its four arms and its six-fingered hands. My problem was with the rust-colored spider abdomen and eight massive spider legs that his humanoid torso was attached to.

I guess the creature was a ‘he’ from its voice and features. But he was a member of the Bellicose Species. An entity with intelligence on par with any Sophic Species, but any species from among the Bellicose were well known to be man-eaters.

The Arachnyte was behind an armored counter equipped with a thick pane of iron-glass that reached to the ceiling. He stood in profile with his head facing me. Set in front of him was something that I found strange. A top-tier premium computer setup, complete with ten screens of various sizes, set into the wall in a haphazard pattern. Mounted to the ceiling on either side of the Arachnyte’s entrenched position were a pair of turrets. Each turret was a dual-barrel auto-targeting, high-caliber model I recognized as the Thunder-Crusher HC-32 model. Just one of those guns would have turned me into a grease smear with just one bullet that would give any janitor nightmares.

I slowly stepped deeper into the room with both hands raised in a sign of non-aggression. The eight-foot by eight-foot space looked to be an air-sealed meeting room. The room gave the Arachnyte maximum protection and intruders had no safe space to hide if they got hostile. Each wall to either side of me was armed with several types of traps, and I felt pressure plates depress under my shoes with each step. The traps were clearly disabled. But, if I did anything that the Arachnyte perceived as hostile, I would be trapped in a kill-box room. I was certain that the door I had just passed through was completely automated and could seal airtight before I could even reach it.

Ferris and Nennel both followed my example as they stepped up right behind me. “We’re here because we heard you’re one of the best info brokers in the city.”

“Who says that I’m the best?” the Arachnyte asked with a smooth voice while he raised a pale brow in question.

I lowered my hands and shrugged. “It’s just the word I picked up off the streets. A couple of kids mentioned you could get the info we need.”

“You trust the word of a few kids enough to drag yourself through cannibal territory to talk to a man-eater like me?”

Even as the Arachnyte asked his question, I inspected the space he stood in, even as I broke down his word choice and analyzed it.

Okay, the term ‘analyzed’ may be a dramatic exaggeration. While the term may hold closer to the truth later in my life, at this point in my story, I was simply overthinking his words. Given my lack of social skills, I was prone to overanalyzing any word choice from any stranger. Systematically breaking down each sentence spoken and identifying what I thought to be keywords was useful from time to time. But just as often, I found myself in even deeper trouble. But I did get lucky from time to time.

The Arachnyte’s word choice was interesting. First, he put me on the defensive by implying that I was stupid enough to trust children. He also implied that the effort it took to get down to him was immense and draining by using the word ‘dragged’. He then mentioned the local cannibals as a passive threat with the desire to intimidate. That attempt to intimidate was doubled down when he referred to himself as a man-eater. The choice of using the ‘man-eater’ term also must’ve been intended to subtly state that he was just as much a physical threat to use as his automated weapons. But those words could be used against him.

“I don’t just trust the word of a few kids. I’ve done my research. There are more than a few pits in the LSN that talk about you.” I flashed the hacker a knowing smile even as I continued. “And we didn’t drag ourselves all the way here. I plotted out every step of the route down here. I am even skilled enough to have escaped a shroud of ghouls by getting them eaten by an elemental.” That comment wasn’t technically correct, but I might as well have made the whole thing sound intentional.

The hacker’s look turned deeply skeptical as he said, “Yeah, I saw the whole thing, kid. I’m not falling for that weak web.” I kept my face very carefully blank as I tried to quickly think of a way to salvage things. “Don’t get me wrong, hellspawn. Your whole stumbling trip down here was hysterical.” He gave me an amused smirk as he rubbed two fingers and a thumb of this upper left hand together in a common sign of value. “Quality entertainment. You are so totally insane that you tried one suicidal trick after another and kept on rolling. So, for those few minutes of laughs you brought me, I’ll listen to your request.”

I had just gotten unbelievably lucky. But since I didn’t need to convince the Arachnyte to listen to my request, I could move on to the next step. Bartering. I had read from several sources on the LSN that the hacker, Skitter, had one key weakness that many net junkies fell trap to. I had brought such bribery. And if I needed any proof of this creature’s weakness, the trash that I could easily spy within his space was more than enough.

I dropped my pack to the floor at my feet and pulled my trade currency to the top without revealing it as I explained our needs. “We’re looking to join the Razor Wings gang to gain some important information and beat a hasty escape. I might also have some extra payments for you if you can give more info or answer a few spare questions.”

Skitter gave a snort as he folded his two lower arms over his hominid abdomen, cupped his narrow jaw in one hand, and laxly gestured to me with his remaining hand. “It sounds to me like you're already assuming that you have something I want. I hope, for your sake, that you have bricks of gold in that bag of yours.”

This time, it was my turn to give him a smirk, and mine was flavored with diabolical spice. “I’m afraid that I’m not carrying a Mintonian ton of gold. But I do just so happen to have a few particular energy drinks.”

I watched as the hacker’s face morphed from skeptical amusement to nervous interest. “Energy drink? If you think you can buy me with a cheap beverage, you’re dead wro-” He started, but I interrupted.

“It’s only a simple Mind Myst-infused energy drink that might only be brewed in limited batches and sold for almost a whole gold piece for a pack of six.”

I knew I had Skitter on the hook when I watched his four eyes go wide with disbelief. “You can’t mean…” Skitter trailed off.

“I do happen to be a connoisseur of beverages with amounts of caffeine and B vitamins that could kill a pachyderm with only a few cans worth. Some might consider these types of drinks unhealthy. But, when you need a pick-me-up after a long day of work, these are practically liquid gold.” I pulled out a single sixteen-ounce can to display as if it were a rare vintage of Elven wine. A scarlet and black can patterned as if rivulets of blood were overflowing from the container. The brand’s logo was a combination of an Elven eye pigment pattern and a Gnome’s pupil. A black sclera around a golden iris containing a triangular pupil.

“Black-Gold Eye Brewery. I may have picked up a few cans of the Titan’s Blood batch, brewed just last year. And…” I pulled you a second can. This one had a golden base color with a deep green lower half designed to look like it was full of some toxic brew with black bubbles holding skulls. “I’ve also picked up a few from the Necro-Dragon’s Venom batch.”

“What!” Ferris complained. “Why, in the name of the Dead One, didn’t you share those with us earlier? I definitely could’ve used one of those when we ate.”

I shot Ferris an aggravated look. “First, I’d rather you not get hooked on these things. They cost a kidney just to get a single pack. Second, they were only intended for our host.”

“What do you mean addicted?” Ferris asked.

“He’s saying that those are brink-breakers. Brain booster brink-breakers, to be precise. Energy drinks laced with Mind Myst to enhance mental output to an insane level. They’re insanely controlled by the government because people can get hooked on them and croak if they have too much.” Skitter explained.

“Oh.” was all Ferris said as he processed what the hacker said.

“Those are extremely limited edition batches from an insanely good corp that is known to pump out only the best kind of stuff.” the hacker continued. “Alright. You’ve got me. What do you want to know?”

I slip the first can toward the hacker as I said “Let’s start with all of the info we need to join the Razor Wing gang. We’re talkin’ locations, uniforms, rites, rituals, trials, vows, anything and everything.”

“By the gods. You don’t don’t pull any punches, do you.” The hacker mocked. “Fine. I’ll get your info. But it will cost both of those drinks.”

“Deal.” I said as I slid the second drink forward. I had a total of eight cans, but I couldn’t spend them needlessly.

“Exulten!” Skitter shouted. The term was shortened from ‘exultation’ and often used like ‘Awesome!’ or ‘Cool!’. Without another word, he turned to his computer station, brushed aside a pair of brink-breaker energy drink cans, and began typing with a fervor. The guy was clearly a very hooked addict. But I was going to bleed that edge for every drop I could get. I honestly wasn’t surprised that the hacker seemed disturbed. He came across as completely caco-maniacal. Little did I know just how much I was going to rely on that man in the days and years to come.

After a few minutes, he gave a final, dramatic press of a key. Seconds later, I got a notification on my therra that I had just been sent a message attached with a file. “I just sent you everything you’ll need to join the scum-bag gang. And if you give me another two cans, I can give you two pieces of bonus info.”

“Deal.” I repeated as I picked up the first two drinks and walked them over to the counter between Skitter and myself. I took another trip with another two cans. 

After I set down the second two cans, Skitter explained. “So, for starters, somehow, someone gave that gang a formula for something new that went sideways. That formula was for an experimental performance-enhancing drug known as Zyzivane.” 

“Zyzivane?” I asked

“Yeah. Some diamond hacker decks noticed the formula and claimed that the Evea-Life mega-corp was the creator and was collecting all instances of the formula before wiping every byte of data on any device that even touched the formula. But a few club hacker decks were saying that it belonged to Vartex Corporation. After that, dozens of decks of all types started making claims that blamed any corporation with an office in Grimvale. So no one knows the truth but the corpo-rats playing the game. ” He held up a hand, displaying two fingers as he continued. “Bonus data part two. As it turns out, that formula the gangers got was rigged to be poisoned by design. That means that someone gave them the goods with the intent to screw the gang. So it looks like you’re not the only one out to give the Razor Wings a big and thick one up the back door.”

I remembered Gig and his brothers mentioning something about the Razor Wings selling a new drug that caused more than a few deaths. That was good info, but the name Vartex sounded familiar. “Vartex?” I muttered to myself while I laxly covered my mouth with a hand while I thought, trying to remember where I had heard it before.

“Oh, that one, I’ll give you for free.” The hacker said. “Vartex is a local mega-corp that specializes in electronics and cybernetics. Word on the spider net says that they have been schizo aggro against smaller-time companies in the same field.”

That was enough to trigger the memory. The dead thief I found in the electronics store with the scrambled brain. “Ject me out a jet with no chute.” I cursed to myself. With a sharp snapping motion of two fingers, I looked up at the hacker. “I’ve got another can in it for you if you can dig into that corp’s locked data. I found one of their guys dead while he was in the middle of stealing a list of customer information. I want to know what the hell is going on.”

The hacker went back to work on his computer even as he continued to talk. “I can tell you exactly what the guy was doing. A common mega-corp tactic is to steal customer info, scrub the baby opponent’s server data, and offer the customers a killer deal to steal their business. Give me a sec to do some digging. What can you tell me about the graver?”

I gave a rapid-fire explanation of details as if reading off a bullet-point sheet. “Moon Elf, male, light blue skin, pink hair shaved on the sides and long on top, tied back in a braid, deep purple eyes, close cut goatee. He was wearing a skintight black jumpsuit with light armor plating over vital areas. I found the graver in the Crossline Electronics Repair shop not too long ago.”

“Outfit tells me that the guy was likely a dark-cover ops agent. That means that he’ll be listed in their profiles under the ‘Specialized Janitorial’ job folder…” Skitter’s fingers flew over the keys with a fluid but manic grace. “Jeez, their surface IC is total dreck. I cracked it in three min’ flat and am already going through their base folder list. And there it is. Give me a sec while I check for your cadaver.” A few minutes of weighty silence held the room in a vice-grip, only filled with the machinegun click-clack of the hacker’s keyboard.

“HA!” Skitter shouted in victory. “Got your guy. Graver’s name is Trassin Glowsone. Sure enough, the guy has level seven top-secret security clearance and is marked as dead by external trauma.”

“External trauma?” Ferris asked.

“Yep. It’s cropo code for killed by assassination from an unknown party. This is also a code that informs the regulators to label the death an accident in official documents. But digging deeper and cracking through another few layers of IC, I found his last mission. Graver was tasked with breaking into that babe-corp’s files and jacking their customer list as a surface cover.”

“What do you mean ‘surface cover’?” This time, Nennel was the one to ask.

“Give me a sec.” Skitter said distractedly as he went back to working his keyboard. After another few minutes, the Arachnyte propped all four hands against his desk as he said, “Woh, woh, woh, what now?!”. He spoke in total shock before jumping back to his keyboard with enough intensity and force that I thought he was going to break the device.

“What? WHAT!?” I demanded.

“Your guy was linked to Operation Missing Sock.” he replied in a rough whisper.

“I-What?” I was more than a little confused.

“It’s a big deal. Like, a really big deal. Enormous really. If I can pull this off, I’m going to need three cans for this shit. I’m cracking IC so thick you could sink a battle cruiser on it. I would’ve charged like eight cans for this. But this is a big enough deal that if I can get what I want, I’ll be an LSN legend.”

“Okay. When you get a chance, I want ALL of the details.” I said with serious weight.

“Done.” was all Skitter said in agreement before dropping into silence for what seemed like an eternity.

When he finished, Skitter pushed his keyboard away with one hand, massaged his eyes with one hand, and his temples with the other two hands. When he spoke next, he sounded as if he had run several miles with no stops. “So here’s the deal. Two years back, a new black club hacker hit the scene with a massive data splash. The dude went by Net-Weaver-Spider, and he dropped a massive amount of classified data into the local LSN. For one, he released the Zyzivane formula, but that got snapped up by someone, and all net data of it got scrubbed. The other bit that the big NWS dropped was incomplete data on a cybernetics project that would be a global game changer. The ability to use cybernetics to turn a mundane into a full-blown Mage.”

Skitter looked up as my jaw dropped at that news. Nations and corporations had been trying to find a way to allow mundane civilians to turn into Mages for generations. Everyone wanted to be a Mage, and if what the hacker said was true, millions of people could pay clat through the nose to have a dream come true.

The hacker gave me a deep nod of confirmation before continuing. “After the Zyzivane formula got snatched and scrubbed, he kept copies of the formula and the cybernetic data and kept posting it periodically in spaces on the net that seemed totally random. Dozens of local companies picked up that data, but then suddenly, the postings stopped. NWS made one final post mentioning that he took it all from an unnamed megacorp but that a recovery operation was set in place called Operation Missing Sock. After that last post, it was in the news that the terrorist Net-Weaver-Spider was dead.”

”I’m not going to lie.” I said. “I am really confused right now.”

The hacker rubbed at his mouth with one hand as he said in a quiet voice. “You and me both, kid. I have absolutely no clue what you’ve gotten yourself into. But if you don’t watch yourself, you’re going to have a corp cannon aimed right up your ass.”