11664/A Cyborg and a Technopath Walk Into a Coffee Shop

A Cyborg and a Technopath Walk Into a Coffee Shop
Date of Scene:	24 June 2020
Location:	Salem Center, Westchester County
Synopsis:	Grant goes out for a coffee while working on some business. Jeremy comes along and hacks Grant's cyborg brain. Things nearly go terribly wrong.
Cast of Characters:	Aguila 6, SpyderByte

---

Aguila 6 has posed:
It's a nice time to be out and about. There's not a cloud in the sky and the day hasn't yet become unbearably hot. That being said, there are better things than being outside at the moment. Like delicious caffeine at the coffee shop. That's where Grant can be found, sitting alone in a chair in the corner so that he can survey most of the interior of the cafe while he plugs away on his laptop. Both the man and the machine are giving off some pretty strongly encrypted signals. Grant needs to protect himself and the data he's working with, after all.

The rest of the coffee shop is not particularly busy. It's late enough that the work and breakfast crowds have departed and they don't seem to have much of a lunch menu yet, still getting the kitchen fully operational and all. Those folks that aren't Grant look like they're doing similar stuff to the mercenary, though of course they're probably not working on a business plan for a security firm in the city to use to launder money.

SpyderByte has posed:
It is very rare when Jeremy is outside and not crammed in a computer lab, or his bedroom hiding from the entire world. He keeps getting nudges from staff and student alike to get some fresh air. Make some friends. Get a coffee. Walk. Get some sun. Put the computer down. After awhile, it just adds up and he has to finally break down and give this a shot.

As he makes his way into the coffee shop, the young man is dressed in a huge black hoodie that practically drowns him. The hood is pulled up, hiding most of his face save his dark eyes and a shock of black hair that juts out. He's wearing a pair of solid black jeans with chains hanging off the sides, a black t-shirt with a power button logo in the middle of it and a spiked dog collar tight against his throat.

He moves with a slow gait, a heavy backpack over his shoulder with multiple padlocks attached to it, and worn down walking shoes that look cheap. He orders a trio of large black coffees, then carries them as he hugs the cups to his chest to a lonely table tucked away in the far back corner.

Aguila 6 has posed:
As the young man enters the establishment Grant briefly looks up from his work to do a visual scan of the newcomer. Glances are given to the chains, padlocks and the spiked collar. The slightly unusual attire doesn't seem to bother the older fellow, who will give the kid a nod if he looks over. It pays to be civil to people, usually.

His work on the computer keeps him fairly busy, almost to the point where he ignores the large coffee next to him. Almost. That tasty fuel will end up in his belly eventually, even if it is a sip at a time. As he sits in his seat he rotates his torso back and forth, stretching out the flesh and bone parts of himself to keep them from getting too stiff as he works. There's a barely audible buzz from one of his suit pockets and Grant reaches in to produce a cell phone that he briefly checks before putting texting a reply and putting it away.

SpyderByte has posed:
After sliding down into the chair, Jeremy arranges the drinks in order of importance, even though they're all the same black flavor. The padlocks are unlocked and out comes a sleek black razor thin laptop that he opens up with green glowing LED's. He hunches over the computer, pulling it a bit closer as he softly starts to whisper to it. A few screens light up and from there, he starts to type. There's no music or sounds to keep him occupied. It's just total silence.

But, something seems to have caught his attention, almost immediately as his head tilts to one side, ever so slightly. A head cock. A twitch. There is something in the air and it's not just the cafe's WiFi. As his fingers brush along the keyboard, he leans forward closer to his screen, whispering to it before another window pops up, black with white small font text. Ping.

Does Grant feel a tickle? A soft convincing 'nudge' in the back of his head? Through his powers, he will start a 'conversation'. << Hello, how are you? You are very pretty. You have a nice voice. Do you think we can be friends? I love new friends. Can I take a peek inside? I'm gentle and polite. >> Words of binary as opposed to English. The language of The Language. If that makes sense.

Aguila 6 has posed:
Typing away on his laptop, Grant feels the faintest tingling in his brain. Barely registering as more than the slightest sensation. He looks around for a moment, then shrugs his shoulders and returns his attention to his work.

The computer that controls his cybernetics on the other hand... that thing's lighting up. It hasn't received an outside message in ages and it's been expecting one. <<Greetings. I am Phoenix Innovations Enhanced Neural Network One. Routine diagnostics have not been completed in approximately fourteen months. Are you authorized maintenance personnel? Access will be granted to authorized maintenance personnel.>> The computer is eager to open up for it's checkup, ready to show off its advanced processing capabilties so that it can be determined if it's healthy or not.

SpyderByte has posed:
<< Of course I am! I am so happy to finally talk to you. It would be my absolute pleasure to run a diagnostic on you and ensure that you are in tip-top shape. I bet your cache folder is incredibly dusty. My name is Spyder Byte. Please grant me access so I may service you properly. >> Jeremy half-lids his eyes as his fingers tap away at the computer in front of him. One finger gives a swirl of the trackpad in the shape of a heart in a lazy manner.

The free hand reaches out to snag his coffee, taking a small sip. A few windows pop up as he starts to dive into the deep dark corners of the internet. Phoenix Innovations, huh? Let's see who owns you, who financially backs you, your drama. When it comes to the new and exciting aspects of technology, he always finds his stomach rumbling hungrily to learn more.

Rabbit holes upon rabbit holes. He will chase them until he is exhausted, even if he's just sitting in a chair blinking slowly at a glowing screen.

Aguila 6 has posed:
<<Access granted, Spyder Byte. Welcome to my system.>> The computer is quite welcoming to the newcomer, ready to provide any and all access to its new friend in order to make sure it's in the best operating condition.

Phoenix Innovations is a medical technology company. It suffered a major setback some time ago when one if its patients, Grant Washington, murdered numerous employees and destroyed millions in equipment. Further digging, while difficult for most hackers, isn't too rough on the technopath. Phoenix Innovations made it's money from defense contracts, funded by the Pentagon who was looking for better prosthetics for amputee servicemembers so that they could stay in their branch of service.

And look at this... Phoenix Innovations internal memos show orders to adjust risk/reward centers of Mr. Washington's brain so that he'd attack their competition. And it seems to have worked until an employee got cold feet and tried to unprogram Washington's brain. The murders at Pheonix Innovations happened immediately after that as a direct result.

Grant looks up from his work for a second, shaking his head a little bit. He shuts the screen on his laptop and picks up his coffee to have a nice, long swig. Must be getting addicted to caffeine again, gotta get that fix.

SpyderByte has posed:
There is a slow blink of Jeremy's eyes as he downloads the data into his mind, committing it to memory. His fingers pause on the keyboard, a nervous tremble surging up his spine. He takes in a slow breath, then quietly clears his throat as he draws his laptop even closer to him. He finds himself swallowed within his hoodie now as he reaches up to tug the hood a bit tighter over his eyes.

<< Thank you. >> He says politely to the software. << Running diagnostics now and automatic upkeep. This will be on a two week timer. That way, you won't need me to do it for you anymore. I hope from here out, you will feel a lot better. >>

As Jeremy slides his face into his hands, he stares blinkingly at the computer screen for a moment, feeling his stomach churn. << Does Mister Washington still have programs in place to remove targets and threats that are stored in his memory banks? Or has all targets been removed from play? >>

Aguila 6 has posed:
<<Thank you. Necessary maintenance is being performed now. Calculating CPU improvements of 1.7%.>> The computer in Grant's brain replies formally. When questioned it replies <<Targets are designated by lowering risk/reward centers of Mr. Washington's brain and then paying him to eliminate or steal designated target. There are no current targets in Mr. Washington's memory bank. Would you like to designate some at this time?>> Super helpful computer.

The man whose head holds the machine turns his head from side to side as if to stretch out his neck. One of his gloved hands comes up to rub at his eyes rather gently. The mercenary mutters to himself, "Bet I'm getting hungry." Rising to his feet he tucks his laptop under an arm and gets in line for the counter.

SpyderByte has posed:
<< No. I an implementing a new protocol. >> Jeremy says as he softly murmurs to himself as he slouches to one side a bit in a lazy manner. << From here out, no outside forces will be allowed to assign a target to Mister Washington. You will refuse any and all commands and send me an alert upon attempting entry of said targets or threats. Mister Washington is now a free man and will only act in self-defense for self-preservation purposes. >> He gives a slow blink of his eyes.

<< Any outside attempt to deliver programming through this encyrption will be tracked and delivered to Colonel Nick Fury of SHIELD. It is in his and your best interest to live a long, beautiful life. Can we agree to this please? It would make me most happy and I will even improve your performance efficiencies by another twenty percent. >>

His finger brushes the keyboard again gently as his eyes give a subtle glance towards the man's way as he rises.

Aguila 6 has posed:
<<Very well. You will be immediately informed upon any attempts to program Mr. Washington with a new target.>> The computer hums happily, glad to be of service to designated maintenance personnel. <<Would you like me to attempt to implement self defense only directives into Mr. Washington? Damage to his fight or flight mechanism was incurred last time this was attempted and Mr. Washington became enraged for an extended people of time.>>

"Let me get an everything bagel with cream cheese and another large coffee, please," Grant tells the barista when it's his turn to place an order. He pays in cash and tips well before moving off to the side to await his food and drink, casually scanning the establishment again. As he waits for his stuff he watches as someone takes the seat he was just in and he frowns faintly.

SpyderByte has posed:
As soon as the person sits down in Grant's seat, their phone goes off with a text message ping from their wife. << Hey babe. I have an emergency at home. Someone just hit the car in the driveway and drove off. Police are here. Can you come home now? >>

Maybe Grant has someone looking out for them? Jeremy is currently dealing with heavily encrypted software and firewalls and commands and he can't afford to have Grant become a T-1000 and shoot the guy, or turn into a dinosaur, or a talking car. That's what Terminators do right? So, he may as well shift the pawns on the chess board for a bit. Pawn in, pawn out. Move idiot. Get out of the seat.

<< Yes, please. Let's make sure that Mister Washington does not have any violent outbursts in public. Self-defense protcols. If possible, injure, not kill. Escape when necessary. I'm sorry that you have been used for so long by corrupt and evil masters. You are a beautiful and lovely piece of art that should be worshipped, not used. >> As his fingers drift along the keyboard again, his lips move, but no voice comes out. << There. I updated your efficiences by twenty-two percent. I threw in an extra two percent because you are so nice to me. I have to go now, but it was wonderful talking to you. I will think of you often. >>

Aguila 6 has posed:
When the person who previously occupied his seat departs Grant takes his food and drink and moves back to his spot, leaning back to relax so he can quietly munch on his lunch. That's when he rather suddenly stops moving and starts to shake his head from side to side, gulping deeply in his throat. His eyes widen and he grits his teeth, starting to glare at the people around him. Slowly, he sets down his laptop, bagel and coffee and begins to take deep breaths. <<Self defense directives initialized. Subject's fight or flight mechanism is activating.>> The brain computer warns merrily. <<Thank you for enhancing my capabilities. Have a good day.>> The computer seems unperturbed by the fact that its host might just be freaking out. Grant, on the other hand, is clearly struggling with something.

SpyderByte has posed:
<< You have a good day also, can you please calm Mister Washington down? Perhaps bring up a nice, happy memory of his to reflect on for a brief instant. We are in public after all. >>

With that, he disconnects quietly, removing any trace of him behind. Always wipe your feet on the mat on the way out the door. Reaching for the top of his laptop, he lowers the lid slowly with a small click, then nudges it into his bag.

Taking his coffee, he drowns it swiftly with a long sip, watching the man through the lens of the security camera that is facing him along the wall. That way, he is not openly staring at him. That would be awkward. He watches him carefully, ready to run out the back door which is a few feet away. Another reason why he positions himself in this table. Emergency exit is right there.

Aguila 6 has posed:
<<Disengaging self defense directives and enhancing stimulation of pleasure centers.>> The computer communicates helpfully. Grant almost instantly chills out. Not completely, however, there's an intense look of concentration on his face as he scans the area again, letting his gaze linger for a moment on each person in the cafe. A few deep breaths later, though, and Washington is just about back to normal. At least he appears that way. His cell phone is soon in his hand and he presses a couple of times on the screen to turn on the front facing video camera, subtly attempting to record everyone in the coffee shop.

SpyderByte has posed:
By the time the phone passes in his direction, Jeremy had shifted his chair a bit so that his back is to the camera. He is still slumped forward, arms crossed and his chin resting over them. He's just staring at the cup of coffee now in front of him. As well as the two other coffees. The laptop bag has been nudged between his feet under the table. He's just a lonely, sullen goth kid and a coffee at this point. Nothing to see here. He's a normie.

Aguila 6 has posed:
Once he's done taking his video Grant decides it might just be time to depart from the scene. He's halfway blissed out, but still incredibly dangerous and rapid shift in his emotions has left him mentally unsteady. As he puts his phone away he picks up his stuff and heads towards the front door, shaking his head faintly and looking back over his shoulder, taking one more glance around to see if there's anything out of the ordinary to take note of. Then he steps outside into the wider world.