Beepbeepbeep-beep! Beepbeepbeep-beep! Beepbeepbeep-beep! Beepbeepbeep-be-
Nene grumbled as she struggled over the warm mass of Ifrit to shut off the PDA's alarm, shutting it down as she again made a note to relocate the charger
to her side of the bed. Noting the clock advertising it as being a truly obscene hour of the late night/early morning, Nene considered putting off looking into
what'd triggered one of her sniffer programs but shrugged it off as she sat up in bed, glancing at the screen.
A personnel profile access by Superball ? What's that nutjob looking for in our
database? Or maybe more accurately, who got ahold of his password?
A cursory examination showed he'd accessed information on Decay...and accessed information on her past activities? Technically, that was
perfectly allowable. Hardly hacking the system, but to dig into those kind of program files showed more intuitive search capability than she'd thought
Superball capable of doing at a grocery store, let alone a computer network.
Her curiousity piqued, Nene set the PDA aside and got out of bed to grab her laptop, which was properly networked with her other machines and didn't have a
finicky touch screen. Getting her programs in order, she began examining the various stages of the contact. Superball'd made a bee-line for Decay's
file. Specifically, her recent activity on the database. She'd done a wide search within a given array of metahuman abilities. Poor girl, using the powers
log for a dating service, it seemed. And she'd picked Superball as her first attempt. For anyone else, that'd explain the inquisition of files, but
with Superball, he was a wacky nutcase...wasn't he? Of course, if that's what he wanted everyone to believe....something inside Nene's mind perked
up as she smelled a secret that she didn't know, and immediately began sending out more sniffers.
They traced the IP address fairly easily, though no normal back-check would've brought it up. The machine was well put together and guarded. A quick
analysis of the security routines suggested Mag's work. He had a given profile of anti-hacking and pursuit programs that he preferred, especially when
building for someone else that wouldn't have him on hand immediately for tech support if anything went wrong. And this had his signature all over it.
Unfortunately, Mag was an engineer, not a software genius, and in Nene's probably-not-too-humble opinion, he was up against a virtuoso in the field.
Having detailed the masked signature and its scrambling protocol from backtracking it(the machine was turned off, and thus inaccessible to her, but Riot's
logs worked well enough), Nene went to step two. Sylia would probably officially disapprove of her having a back door into the root code of the Legendary
base's computer systems, but unofficially, she'd only call Nene on that if she got caught. And, frankly, if anyone called her on it, she could just
claim she was bored one day and wanted to see if she could do it and people'd accept that explanation hook, line, and sinker. Letting loose her sniffers
again, they tracked the oddly masked IP signature shortly before Riot's base had been accessed, this time utilizing Terrence's account. Nene giggled
slightly at that, imagining poor Terrence running up against a 12th generation supercomputer that made the common home PC look like an abacus in
comparison...and calling up someone slightly more tech savvy to help him with it. Not her, of course. He'd probably think he'd never live it down(and
he wouldn't have, had he asked), but Superball? Hmph. No accounting for taste.
Once again, queries about Decay, specifically a rather amusing video of her and Terrence and her activities in tracking him down. Clearly, he'd been
wondering if she'd specifically come looking for him or just randomly picked him up for the date that the camera's audio feed clearly portrayed her
inviting him to.
The question, again, was why he cared. And why'd he gone as roundabout as to use Terr's access to find out? If it were just confirming how the hell
that had happened, an officer level account like his could've found all this without using Terr's...
So what was Superball hiding?
Absently, Nene realized she'd begun thinking of Superball as far closer to her own level of intelligence and sneakiness than the insane goofball that
she'd initially considered him. And simply put, this pattern of activity didn't fit Superball's public persona at all. It was too directed. Too
sneaky. It acted too much like someone with something to hide. Which meant finding out Superball's real background.
A cursory search brought up the two Superballs on record. Superball I's file ended abruptly with the standoff with the Outcasts. That was obvious enough,
but the FBSA had sealed the file on the investigation. The lock was a bit harder than she could probably legally chip at just yet, so Nene went around. Police
reports for the day of the incident filled her computer's screen as she narrowed them down to arrests of known thugs, then Outcasts, then when the gangs
themselves had been turned in. The datedness of the files worked for her here, with very few of them having any sort of security.
It seemed that the gang Superball I had taken on had a bit of a reputation. In fact, it might not be too big a leap to say they had an on-again, off-again
rivalry with Superball. Enough that the gang's names were available in the arrest logs. Calling up a list of known members for that particular Outcast
crew, she cross-referenced them. First, she scratched off names that were already in jail that day. Second, those that'd been arrested when the hostages
had been saved. Finally scratching off those confirmed as dead by one of the variety of ways it could happen in Paragon City, Nene blinked when only a handful
files remained open...and one whose powers didn't fit the typical Outcast kitsch at all was among them. The Outcasts had a theme, and most of them shot
fire, ice, lightning, or conjured rock. This one, though....he had powers that she'd never seen in the Outcasts, precisely. However, she had seen them
somewhere else....
She picked up the phone, dialing quickly as she glanced over at where Ifrit was still asleep. She knew now, but she didn't know what to do with what she
knew. However... "Sylia? I've dug up something I think you should know."
***
A couple days later, a letter was slipped into the mailbox of a given apartment. In fact, it wasn't a letter at all, really. It was a card, address written
on one side in plain, blocky print, and on the other, a short set of directions to a rather high class cafe on the far side of Independence Port. That and a
short note, written in a woman's elegant, flowing handwriting.
We need to talk. Date and time is in the usual drop-off point
-S.S.
---
"Oh, silver blade, forged in the depths of the beyond. Heed my summons and purge those who stand in my way. Lay
waste."
Nene grumbled as she struggled over the warm mass of Ifrit to shut off the PDA's alarm, shutting it down as she again made a note to relocate the charger
to her side of the bed. Noting the clock advertising it as being a truly obscene hour of the late night/early morning, Nene considered putting off looking into
what'd triggered one of her sniffer programs but shrugged it off as she sat up in bed, glancing at the screen.
A personnel profile access by Superball ? What's that nutjob looking for in our
database? Or maybe more accurately, who got ahold of his password?
A cursory examination showed he'd accessed information on Decay...and accessed information on her past activities? Technically, that was
perfectly allowable. Hardly hacking the system, but to dig into those kind of program files showed more intuitive search capability than she'd thought
Superball capable of doing at a grocery store, let alone a computer network.
Her curiousity piqued, Nene set the PDA aside and got out of bed to grab her laptop, which was properly networked with her other machines and didn't have a
finicky touch screen. Getting her programs in order, she began examining the various stages of the contact. Superball'd made a bee-line for Decay's
file. Specifically, her recent activity on the database. She'd done a wide search within a given array of metahuman abilities. Poor girl, using the powers
log for a dating service, it seemed. And she'd picked Superball as her first attempt. For anyone else, that'd explain the inquisition of files, but
with Superball, he was a wacky nutcase...wasn't he? Of course, if that's what he wanted everyone to believe....something inside Nene's mind perked
up as she smelled a secret that she didn't know, and immediately began sending out more sniffers.
They traced the IP address fairly easily, though no normal back-check would've brought it up. The machine was well put together and guarded. A quick
analysis of the security routines suggested Mag's work. He had a given profile of anti-hacking and pursuit programs that he preferred, especially when
building for someone else that wouldn't have him on hand immediately for tech support if anything went wrong. And this had his signature all over it.
Unfortunately, Mag was an engineer, not a software genius, and in Nene's probably-not-too-humble opinion, he was up against a virtuoso in the field.
Having detailed the masked signature and its scrambling protocol from backtracking it(the machine was turned off, and thus inaccessible to her, but Riot's
logs worked well enough), Nene went to step two. Sylia would probably officially disapprove of her having a back door into the root code of the Legendary
base's computer systems, but unofficially, she'd only call Nene on that if she got caught. And, frankly, if anyone called her on it, she could just
claim she was bored one day and wanted to see if she could do it and people'd accept that explanation hook, line, and sinker. Letting loose her sniffers
again, they tracked the oddly masked IP signature shortly before Riot's base had been accessed, this time utilizing Terrence's account. Nene giggled
slightly at that, imagining poor Terrence running up against a 12th generation supercomputer that made the common home PC look like an abacus in
comparison...and calling up someone slightly more tech savvy to help him with it. Not her, of course. He'd probably think he'd never live it down(and
he wouldn't have, had he asked), but Superball? Hmph. No accounting for taste.
Once again, queries about Decay, specifically a rather amusing video of her and Terrence and her activities in tracking him down. Clearly, he'd been
wondering if she'd specifically come looking for him or just randomly picked him up for the date that the camera's audio feed clearly portrayed her
inviting him to.
The question, again, was why he cared. And why'd he gone as roundabout as to use Terr's access to find out? If it were just confirming how the hell
that had happened, an officer level account like his could've found all this without using Terr's...
So what was Superball hiding?
Absently, Nene realized she'd begun thinking of Superball as far closer to her own level of intelligence and sneakiness than the insane goofball that
she'd initially considered him. And simply put, this pattern of activity didn't fit Superball's public persona at all. It was too directed. Too
sneaky. It acted too much like someone with something to hide. Which meant finding out Superball's real background.
A cursory search brought up the two Superballs on record. Superball I's file ended abruptly with the standoff with the Outcasts. That was obvious enough,
but the FBSA had sealed the file on the investigation. The lock was a bit harder than she could probably legally chip at just yet, so Nene went around. Police
reports for the day of the incident filled her computer's screen as she narrowed them down to arrests of known thugs, then Outcasts, then when the gangs
themselves had been turned in. The datedness of the files worked for her here, with very few of them having any sort of security.
It seemed that the gang Superball I had taken on had a bit of a reputation. In fact, it might not be too big a leap to say they had an on-again, off-again
rivalry with Superball. Enough that the gang's names were available in the arrest logs. Calling up a list of known members for that particular Outcast
crew, she cross-referenced them. First, she scratched off names that were already in jail that day. Second, those that'd been arrested when the hostages
had been saved. Finally scratching off those confirmed as dead by one of the variety of ways it could happen in Paragon City, Nene blinked when only a handful
files remained open...and one whose powers didn't fit the typical Outcast kitsch at all was among them. The Outcasts had a theme, and most of them shot
fire, ice, lightning, or conjured rock. This one, though....he had powers that she'd never seen in the Outcasts, precisely. However, she had seen them
somewhere else....
She picked up the phone, dialing quickly as she glanced over at where Ifrit was still asleep. She knew now, but she didn't know what to do with what she
knew. However... "Sylia? I've dug up something I think you should know."
***
A couple days later, a letter was slipped into the mailbox of a given apartment. In fact, it wasn't a letter at all, really. It was a card, address written
on one side in plain, blocky print, and on the other, a short set of directions to a rather high class cafe on the far side of Independence Port. That and a
short note, written in a woman's elegant, flowing handwriting.
We need to talk. Date and time is in the usual drop-off point
-S.S.
---
"Oh, silver blade, forged in the depths of the beyond. Heed my summons and purge those who stand in my way. Lay
waste."
