Hacking Her Life (closed)

[The_J0k3R]

"Cut the coke, spread the coke, line it out, snort it up!" Tommy O'Brien hummed to himself as another rail went up his nose and he found renewed vigor and purpose as he focused on the lines of code on the computer screen before him.

There's always a way in... he thought, scrolling, scanning, processing. He queued up a program to analyze the website's code, searching deep for security weaknesses. They started popping up.

"Typical, lazy, fucking punk kids... this is what you get for paying your IT staff fifteen fucking bucks an hour..." he muttered to himself, satisfied as he initiated a targetted denial-of-service attack on the server.

He lit up a cigarette. Not a bad way to pay for college, even if it was on the illegal side of activities. But he was sure he couldn't be traced. He looked at the clock before sending the email to his patron. Another job well done, another ten grand in a secure, anonymous Cayman Island account. He did have class in the morning, and he knew he should at least show up for some of them. Time to lay off the blow for the night. He fired up a joint to ease him down.

Why the fuck was he even in college in the first place? He smirked to himself as he pulled up facebook and instagram pages on his screen. Right. The Scenery. Not that he ever got any action outside of drunken frat party hook-ups, but still... it wasn't a bad way to pass the time. Not that he was a bad-looking guy... but he knew his personality could sometimes be a bit... abrasive. He stood at just shy of six-feet tall, and was definitely on the skinny side. He had a mess of dark hair that was perpetually oily, and the acne to match. His brown eyes were big behind glasses, a couple crooked teeth ruined what might have been a nice smile, if some of the things he said hadn't ruined it first.

He scrolled through his feed, filled with cleavagy selfies from sorority girls and others across campus. Social media is fucking brilliant... he mused.

He pulled up a webcam-sex site as he puffed on the joint, the buzz rolling his head around and calming the edge off the coke. It didn't take him long to find a girl he liked, and pay for a private show, and enjoy a little mutual masturbation before calling it a night...

 

[CarnivalBarker]

Danielle Berg swiped through the photos on her phone from the previous night when she had gone out with her friends. The night had been warm, with a cool breeze, perfect for spending some time on the patio, which is exactly what they had done. She enjoyed flirting with the boys at the local college place du jour, and she and her friends always found drinks would be thrust upon them, free of charge, if they flirted enough. However, the hangover never left her, and she had dragged through classes today, hoping only to make it back to the dorms for a nap. She was finding freshman year difficult enough, but she was finding it more problematic when sophomore level classes got in the way of her ability to party all night and learn enough the following day. Now, she sat in her pajamas, cross-legged on her bed, texting with the boy she had met at one of their stops along campus corner.

Send me a picture from last night the boy had said during their conversation. She rolled her eyes, knowing boys she met at school were all the same. No doubt anything she might send would not be used for good. She elected to be restrained, as if not considering she did not need to send anything at all.

Here ya go, she replied, attaching a simple selfie:

https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/0d/35/47/0d3547f713ab66363410b773ca03e7ea.jpg

She tossed her phone to the side, committed to ignoring any response he might give. If he flattered her, and she replied, he might think he was wrapping her around his finger. If he said something negative, she didn't want him to think he was getting to her. If he said nothing at all, why bother chasing. Only 18 years old, she wasn't naive to the game. She picked up her course syllabus for tomorrow's classes.

Fuck, she thought. Office Tech class. She sighed. Somehow the sophomore level business data systems course fulfilled a western civilization course requirement. She had told her counselor that she didn't want history first semester, and this was the option she was given. Now, two months into talk of kilobytes, terabytes, DOS, something called coding, and learning Excel, she felt lost and altogether unprepared for a midterm. Fuck, she thought again. She raced through the assignment, ignoring the warble of her phone a few times before it went silent. The project was not technically difficult, but she dreaded the project due in two weeks, just before Halloween. She wondered how she would get through it only long enough to put her book away, set aside her laptop, and return to her phone, where Carter, the boy from last night, had left four messages, increasingly seeming frustrated that she had left him, well...frustrated. She grinned to herself, knowing her patented move had worked. It always worked. Give a little line, let them run with it, then reel them in. Give a little line, let them think they weren't hooked and that she wouldn't be, and they would jump into the boat if she wanted them to. She was cute and she knew it.

Goodnight, she texted, not responding directly to anything Carter had said. She turned into bed and fell asleep, forgetting about the midterm until tomorrow, when she would also talk with her friends and make plans for Friday night.