A Game


He smiled at this, mildly but pleasantly surprised that it had happened as fast as it had. Honestly, he had expected more from the self-proclaimed kings and queens of hacking but it seemed that their bravado greatly surpassed their skills. Still, he didn’t take it to heart- they seemed determined enough and he knew very well that sometimes that was worth more than anything. It was more fun to watch people dangle.

He pushed his chair round to the monitor on his left and scanned the message displayed briefly. He hadn’t gotten much from his computer as of yet- it was still streaming, still cracking some of the codes. Someone using the name StringedWings who appeared to be a regular at Sanctuary.

It meant nothing to him, of course. He had never visited it; he had better things to do than stalk run-of-the-mill teenage delinquents with a hard-on for guessing passwords and pretending it was some kind of heavenly gift. And yet he found himself intrigued. They had managed to get as far as they did- perhaps they would present an interesting challenge. Not to mention with all the viruses he’d just bombarded him with, he’d be an easy target to contact again.

He sat back in his chair, considering this.

Whoever the original hacker was… well, it was of very little consequence to him anyway. They had simply provided a way into the system. Cleaning up after people was his job, after all, and the moron was clearly too incompetent to do that himself. He didn’t work in teams. The only way you could trust anyone to remain loyal was to have them sat next to you with a revolver firmly rammed against the back of their throat.

The digital clock on the wall beeped loudly, interrupting his train of thought. With a sigh, the man looked up at the time and immediately pulled a face. “Already, hmm?” he muttered, “We’ll have to wait.”

Work always called at the wrong time. “Ah well, I won’t be long,” he said, again to no one in particular and leant forward onto the desk. A few deft movements later and he hit enter on the keyboard.

“We’ll talk. I promise you that much.”

The message went straight to the user known as StringedWings and from there to the users of Sanctuary. It was a simple program, popping up on every computer it could reach with an equally simple proposition.

Endgame invites you to play a game of chess. Accept or Decline?

The End

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