Fate typed with his usual flippant speed and devious attention.
>>Animals and brains.
>>Such progressive sexual preferences, good sir.
He grinned as he answered the next set, languidly sliding his fingers over keys. He'd certainly never had any complaints in the department of attentiveness, but it wasn't until after he'd fired the response over the Net that he wondered if Robin would think it a measure of overcompensation.
>>I'm not rambling.
>>I'm thinking with my fingers.
>>So yeah, I assure you that kind of connection gets a lass
>>right where I want her.
Hungry and on the edge. Keening for more.
Stars, this conversation was fucking strange. If Robin had been a woman, it'd be harassment of the best sort--and teasing besides. But he wasn't, and instead it was just unfortunate that he couldn't keep his hands to himself when it came to restraining his keystrokes.
>>Met a few gadgets with a pulse.
>>I'd appreciate it if you weren't one of those.
>>Dudes sending me gay porn is quite enough.
>>Having a toaster send me porn of any variety
>>might leave a scar.
He didn't really think Robin could be all machine. But he'd needed to fish, needed to see if enough clues came back to help him weave his trap around the other man. And each response he sent out, each time he got one back, he came that closer to pinning Robin's location, setting another thread of his digital net into place. He wove loosely, intending that Robin would see through it until it was too late to realize the grid of code had been crafted to interlock completely. One pull on a single key strand.
>>10 stars.
>>That's the dream.
>>But with pics like those lying around you've got to be selling yourself short.
>>At least a 7 on the perv-o-meter.
He should have said no to any kind of dancing, should have condemned mere playing about a field that Robin could have had real impact in and that Fate so often sent his agents to do real good in the worlds. Despite his efforts though, Fate was too easily led into conversation to stay at a distance. Instead, he typed like the only sense he had was the sort that thought lighter fluid on a blaze was a good idea.
>>If the song's right.
And then he added:
>>And if you're talking actual dancing and not whatever it is THIS IS
>>only if the hypothetical partner is equipped with the right parts.
Before tying it up with a bow.
>>Like, say, the parts from those centerfolds.
>>And not a cock.
Why did he open his mouth? At least with his keystrokes he had a chance to recall lines--however slim. And Robin's response. A taunting 'more'. It could have meant anything from wanting additional voice recordings because each one might help ping Fate's own location, to asking if he wanted more drool-worthy porn of that woman--and wouldn't she be pissed if she ever found out her private pics were being used in some bizarre hacker chess match without stakes--to genuinely wanting to hear him continue those thoughts.
All of the above was also an option.
Fate rolled his shoulders back and straightened in his chair. "Enough. I don't care how top-notch a hacker he is; today's game is done. This snaps shut, he'll either tell me what the deal is or run away to piss me off another day..."
>>No, I don't think so.
>>You've had enough for today.
>>But if you choose to dance a little more...
Fate wanted something more than riddles; something to tell him if Robin was leading him into a corporate sort of trap, if he needed help out of a sticky situation, or if he really was just having him on for a merry game of taunts and teases and tricks and exchanges of perverted media.
A little more honestly...
The net strands were woven and began to close in as he narrowed to Robin's trail, the metadata too close to the source to be anyone but his foe. When Fate found the man stationary, atop an unfinished maintenance shaft--an oubliette of sorts--he finally knew where the trap would end. Still, he continued drawing the strands tighter, until they were slick enough to suddenly draw taut, to blind sensors and circuits and Net protocols all at once.
>>...there is a way I'll stay on the line.
Fate wasn't sure what the impact would be on the other man's implants, but it wouldn't be pleasant. If he was more wired than flesh and blood, it could even be painful. A less wired hacker would find his way out of the coded net and untangle himself eventually. But some were so tuned in that utter silence of code would be a physical blow.
>>Bet you can't guess what it is...
He didn't want it to go that far. Didn't want Robin to be hurt--nor to keep him from ever hacking his way out of the trap. So in case shutting down everything meant tearing away another hacker's ability to breathe, the tiniest concession was made, a virtual safeword: he also concealed within the woven strands a single lifeline...directly to his comms.
It was a risk. But then, this whole game had been, always was.
>>so I'll let you think about it.
Then Fate tugged the trap shut, whipped the metal top of the tube, watched the signal plummet, and slid the paneling back into place like a lid on a can.
>>Animals and brains.
>>Such progressive sexual preferences, good sir.
He grinned as he answered the next set, languidly sliding his fingers over keys. He'd certainly never had any complaints in the department of attentiveness, but it wasn't until after he'd fired the response over the Net that he wondered if Robin would think it a measure of overcompensation.
>>I'm not rambling.
>>I'm thinking with my fingers.
>>So yeah, I assure you that kind of connection gets a lass
>>right where I want her.
Hungry and on the edge. Keening for more.
Stars, this conversation was fucking strange. If Robin had been a woman, it'd be harassment of the best sort--and teasing besides. But he wasn't, and instead it was just unfortunate that he couldn't keep his hands to himself when it came to restraining his keystrokes.
>>Met a few gadgets with a pulse.
>>I'd appreciate it if you weren't one of those.
>>Dudes sending me gay porn is quite enough.
>>Having a toaster send me porn of any variety
>>might leave a scar.
He didn't really think Robin could be all machine. But he'd needed to fish, needed to see if enough clues came back to help him weave his trap around the other man. And each response he sent out, each time he got one back, he came that closer to pinning Robin's location, setting another thread of his digital net into place. He wove loosely, intending that Robin would see through it until it was too late to realize the grid of code had been crafted to interlock completely. One pull on a single key strand.
>>10 stars.
>>That's the dream.
>>But with pics like those lying around you've got to be selling yourself short.
>>At least a 7 on the perv-o-meter.
He should have said no to any kind of dancing, should have condemned mere playing about a field that Robin could have had real impact in and that Fate so often sent his agents to do real good in the worlds. Despite his efforts though, Fate was too easily led into conversation to stay at a distance. Instead, he typed like the only sense he had was the sort that thought lighter fluid on a blaze was a good idea.
>>If the song's right.
And then he added:
>>And if you're talking actual dancing and not whatever it is THIS IS
>>only if the hypothetical partner is equipped with the right parts.
Before tying it up with a bow.
>>Like, say, the parts from those centerfolds.
>>And not a cock.
Why did he open his mouth? At least with his keystrokes he had a chance to recall lines--however slim. And Robin's response. A taunting 'more'. It could have meant anything from wanting additional voice recordings because each one might help ping Fate's own location, to asking if he wanted more drool-worthy porn of that woman--and wouldn't she be pissed if she ever found out her private pics were being used in some bizarre hacker chess match without stakes--to genuinely wanting to hear him continue those thoughts.
All of the above was also an option.
Fate rolled his shoulders back and straightened in his chair. "Enough. I don't care how top-notch a hacker he is; today's game is done. This snaps shut, he'll either tell me what the deal is or run away to piss me off another day..."
>>No, I don't think so.
>>You've had enough for today.
>>But if you choose to dance a little more...
Fate wanted something more than riddles; something to tell him if Robin was leading him into a corporate sort of trap, if he needed help out of a sticky situation, or if he really was just having him on for a merry game of taunts and teases and tricks and exchanges of perverted media.
A little more honestly...
The net strands were woven and began to close in as he narrowed to Robin's trail, the metadata too close to the source to be anyone but his foe. When Fate found the man stationary, atop an unfinished maintenance shaft--an oubliette of sorts--he finally knew where the trap would end. Still, he continued drawing the strands tighter, until they were slick enough to suddenly draw taut, to blind sensors and circuits and Net protocols all at once.
>>...there is a way I'll stay on the line.
Fate wasn't sure what the impact would be on the other man's implants, but it wouldn't be pleasant. If he was more wired than flesh and blood, it could even be painful. A less wired hacker would find his way out of the coded net and untangle himself eventually. But some were so tuned in that utter silence of code would be a physical blow.
>>Bet you can't guess what it is...
He didn't want it to go that far. Didn't want Robin to be hurt--nor to keep him from ever hacking his way out of the trap. So in case shutting down everything meant tearing away another hacker's ability to breathe, the tiniest concession was made, a virtual safeword: he also concealed within the woven strands a single lifeline...directly to his comms.
It was a risk. But then, this whole game had been, always was.
>>so I'll let you think about it.
Then Fate tugged the trap shut, whipped the metal top of the tube, watched the signal plummet, and slid the paneling back into place like a lid on a can.
Dreams come in a size too big so we can grow into them.
The following 1 user Likes danixiewrites's post: Tindome
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