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IC: Maksim

 

Maksim sat at the table.

 

"Look," he said. "there are a lot of people who want to get their hands on this--" He tapped the cardboard box. "--and in your position, most of them would've shot me and taken it already."

 

He gave the restaurant another nervous scan.

 

"Point is, can we hurry this along? Or at least eat somewhere less...monitored?"

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IC

 

She sighed and took a bite of her burger. She chewed and swallowed it before she pointed it at him as she spoke. "You know, Makkizu, you're paranoid. There's probably just a string in there... Or a photo of you drunk at the company Christmas party."

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  • 2 weeks later...
  • 2 weeks later...

IC:

 

"Stop the car," Sloan said suddenly. "No wait - don't stop the car, just feather the brakes. I'll get out here and see what I can do about getting us off people's devices. Beef, get her into the safe house. Don't stop. Don't let yourself get stopped. When you're inside, seal the doors, get yourself on lock, and don't open the door for anyone. I'll meet up with you there." He turned to Beth and gave her his best reassuring grin. "Don't you worry 'bout a thing now. I trust Beef more than any brother. Anything you think you know, he'll guard it with his life. And uh...seriously. Don't worry. We know what we're doing."

 

His statement might have been more assuring if he hadn't turned, clapped Beef on the shoulder with a solemn "Day-o, my brother," and barrelled out of the back door onto his back. 

 

Ow. Ow ow ow. Get up, Jamowitz. Get up get up GET UP.

 

Sloan rolled onto his feet nimbly and brushed loose gravel and sand off the back of his black t-shirt; sparing a quick glance at the area around him he pulled on a black toque over his distinctive golden hair and walked into the burger joint.

 

-Tyler

SAY IT ONE MORE TIME 

TELL ME WHAT IS ON YOUR MIND

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IC:

 

Maybe Slo was just too good at being Slo, but...

 

"Not that you ain't cute, miss, but that? That's your pickup line?"

 

Beef would be having conniptions if someone called him 'wanted man.' Slo was made of flirtier stuff, but still...didn't help that he really was technically maybe a little heavily wanted.

 

-Tyler

SAY IT ONE MORE TIME 

TELL ME WHAT IS ON YOUR MIND

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IC:

 

"You and me both. You ain't about to turn me in, I trust." Three of Sloan's fingers casually plucked his phone from his pocket.

 

-Tyler

Edited by tylerlicious definicious

SAY IT ONE MORE TIME 

TELL ME WHAT IS ON YOUR MIND

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IC:

 

"Lots of food implies lots of time taken to eat, which means I have more time to sit here and work without looking suspicious." Slo slid the tray onto the table he'd chosen - and Lavinia slipped into the opposite end of the booth. He eyed her casually with almond-shaped hazel eyes and then looked back down towards his food, slowly plucked a fry, and started to tap on his phone.

 

We could hop onto cyberspace and take care of that alert, but I dunno how well-protected the city infrastructure is.

 

Slo did, though - after all, he'd taken a job to patch it. And Slo always left himself a back door.

 

With another fry hanging out of his mouth like an unlit cigarette, Sloan began to fiddle with his phone, pulling out his tablet and resting it against his knees as well...

 

-Tyler

Edited by tylerlicious definicious

SAY IT ONE MORE TIME 

TELL ME WHAT IS ON YOUR MIND

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IC:

 

"You can say that again, sister," Sloan said, unwrapping his first cheeseburger and casually peeling off the edge of a slice of cheese to wrap around a fry and pop into his mouth. "It'd be...mercenary, then."

 

-Tyler

SAY IT ONE MORE TIME 

TELL ME WHAT IS ON YOUR MIND

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IC:

 

"My dad was American. He loved him some cheesy fries. One of those burgers is yours if you cross your fingers for me."

 

Sloan took a bite out of the burger, eyes never leaving the screen; his phone and his tablet displayed the same screen for just the briefest of seconds as Slo attempted to open up the back door he'd left in the city's infrastructure - specifically, the Citizen APBs subunit.

 

...

 

-Tyler

SAY IT ONE MORE TIME 

TELL ME WHAT IS ON YOUR MIND

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OOC: Mobile, no formatting.

 

IC - Adriana

 

The assassin watched as one of the occupants left the car - it wasn't her mark, so she didn't think of pursuing.

 

She continued following the car.

 

 

- - - - - - - - - -

 

 

IC

 

Sloan's devices showed a nondescript black screen with a single 'admin' login prompt.

 

Sloan's brief employment by the Watchmen had garnered him some knowledge of the city's system, and he'd ensured that he discreetly set himself up with an unknown, illegal admin account. Y'know. Just in case.

 

He could get in easily, and the Watchman ABPs and the Public Broadcast System were easier systems to hack than most others, but anything he'd try to modify would leave a log - which is something you DON'T want to have when you've got an illegal admin account on a system that you're attempting to access without the use of a proxy or routing your signal through other systems, or both.

 

They'd trace his IP and location in seconds and send Watchmen after him in almost as little time, so it'd be best to use caution.

 

 

- - - - - - - - - -

 

 

IC - Chad

 

The model watched a man come through the door of the building at the same time his implants flashed the same man's image in his eyes with a big 'WANTED' label beneath his portrait.

Edited by Perp
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IC:

 

"Who the ######'s we?" Slo asked his tablet screen halfheartedly, half-glad he'd left his work laptop (differentiated from his play laptop by the more mundane programs and sparse personal data it was stocked with) at the office and half-ruing the new layer of legwork that the tablet had added to the task. This was going to get complicated...and chancy...very chancy...

 

Aruuuugala.

 

Inspiration had struck.

 

Reaching for his cell phone his fingers typed out a command they'd practiced many a time, but never once drummed out seriously:

 

yoko_ono.obj

 

-----

 

Down in Medius, at the barren offices of Slo'n'Beef Security, a single laptop whirred to life on a single office chair. Slowly, as if being guided by some invisible hand, a slim white cursor glided down to the start menu, then to the directory, and went to work.

 

login

> y0k0n0

> pass?

> *****

> Welcome.

 

> archives

> logs

> today

> *****

 

>>  solum_crime

>> medius_crime

>> laquearia_crime

 

>>> maksim

>>> slonbeef

>>> karadzic_raid

 

>>> slonbeef

 

>>> sel_get_back1.obj

>>> sel_get_back2.obj

>>> sel_get_back3.obj

 

>>> Upload?

>>> y

>>> *****

>>> re-enter

>>> *****

 

>>> Uploading...

>>> Uploading...

>>> Uploading...

>>> Uploading...

 

>>> d͟a̸t̸a ̸corr͡úp͞te̶d͢

>>> ḑ͆̊̍̊̌̔a̛̽͐ͣ͐ṫ͊̋̋̾͂a͊͐ ͑ͩ͑ͨ̾̀̾c̅ͥ͂̅̐͗or̍̀̉ͤ̓ͣ̉͡rͭ̇̚u͋ͥ̄̌͗̆̎͘ṕ͜t̓eͦͯ̓ͯdͨ̎͌̈̽ͣ

>>> ḑ̺̟̥ͬ̅͂̔͆̔͛̔̚a̩̞̮̩͇͗́ͦ̿́̕͠ͅţ̝͇̟̯̫̗̩̃̀͛ͯ̊̏̚͜a̯͎̤͛̽ͦ̋͋̀̕ ͖̣̓ͫ̊̆̍̇͂͑͞c̺͇̝̯͚̼ͨͫ̀̚o̵̥͖͍̖̺͖̍̇͗ͪ̍ͪͅr͎̲̘̤͉̀ͨ̌̎̄͛̕ŗ͙̺̗ͤư̷̪̗̲̳̱̏͑p̴͖̟̠̫̖͚̻͓̑ͫ̅̓ͭͦ̋̊̚͟͜t̄ͮ̇҉̳e̡͓̦͗͗ḑ̤͈̱̹̘ͣͮ̇̆ͨ͂́͢

 

>>> ḑ̺̟̥ͬ̅͂̔͆̔͛̔̚a̩̞̮̩͇͗́ͦ̿́̕͠ͅţ̝͇̟̯̫̗̩̃̀͛ͯ̊̏̚͜a̯͎̤͛̽ͦ̋͋̀̕ ͖̣̓ͫ̊̆̍̇͂͑͞c̺͇̝̯͚̼ͨͫ̀̚o̵̥͖͍̖̺͖̍̇͗ͪ̍ͪͅr͎̲̘̤͉̀ͨ̌̎̄͛̕ŗ͙̺̗ͤư̷̪̗̲̳̱̏͑p̴͖̟̠̫̖͚̻͓̑ͫ̅̓ͭͦ̋̊̚͟͜t̄ͮ̇҉̳e̡͓̦͗͗ḑ̤͈̱̹̘ͣͮ̇̆ͨ͂́͢

 

>>> ḏ̴̶̵̥͈̗̗̗̹͚̎̏ͭ̌̓͑́̎͞a̅̎ͥ̌̋̌͌̌̓̊͒͐҉̣͔͙̗͉̪t̩̗͉̳͈̖̺̜̞̆͛ͭͥ́̚a̓ͩͧ̿ͨͣ̓̐͂ͫ̃̆̚̚͜҉̭̤̥̘̲̦̬̯̖̮̩̻͕͞ ̠͓̻̞̭̫̞͖̜͕̯̲̠͕̼͙̠̜̱ͭͭ̔̆͆ͬͨ̾̎̀̀̚͠c̞̠̭̼͍͔̙̭͓͙̳͎͍͇ͣ̐̆ͤ͋ͫ̄̿̂̉̒̕͜͜͢͝ͅͅơ̛͕͕̼̯̯͔̤̜͎̓̏̾̃͋͂̃̀ͥͭ͂̐ͩ̐͐ͨͅr̡̈́ͣ̇͒̔͗̉̎̒̋ͬ̈́̿̐̈́͗҉̴̖̼͔͕̠̰̮̱͇̩͇͝rͭͭͭ̃ͤ̒͏̶̫̫̼͔̙̞̻̯̮̤͔̕ư̴̧̥͔̟̳͍͚̝̳̫̩̟̹̦̆͋̾͊́̒̿ͥ͋͗ͥ̂͞ͅp̴̙͎͚͖̘͎̦̦̳̱͚̪̩͕̟̌ͥͭ̈ͫ̿͂̽͐̓̐͆̎̽̍̉̊͋̓̀́ţ̸̛͍̲̠̣̪̝͆ͯͦ̓̆͑͊̒͢͝ę̨̓͋̅̓͌͂͆͆͏͚͙̘̭͈̤̖͈̙̟d̸͎̫̙̱ͤ́̃̈̑ͮͨ̀͆́̐̎̏̀́

̶̡̥̺̤̳̻̝̥͈̹̝̜̋̈ͫ̑̃̇̀̍ͭ̀ͯͫ͞͠

 

 

 

-----

 

"Aaaaaa-rugala. Time to go mobile. If you're coming on, then come on."

 

Slo stood up, pocketing his phone, tucking his tablet under his arms, and tossing ten rubles on the counter for food + tray as he walked casually out of the restaurant.

 

connection timeout. re-enter login

> y0k0n0

> *****

 

> Welcome.

 

...

 

-Tyler

Edited by tylerlicious definicious
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SAY IT ONE MORE TIME 

TELL ME WHAT IS ON YOUR MIND

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