Chapter 3 "Enter, Vicious"

The doorway was dark, but strangely inviting. I walked inside and the door shut softly. I was greeted by a girl and immediately my research flashed into my head. Laura Hernandez. Bronx resident since birth, attended I.S. 128 for middle school, Lehman High School and then Westchester Community College for a semester before dropping out. A+ Student until that semester, lived on 2203 Watercrest Ave, Bronx NY 10465. No drivers license, but a very gifted hacker. 18 years old too. Same as me. The best of the "Vicious" if I had to say. Went by the name of 'Relinquished'. The only person within this circle to have no previous attention from any law enforcement agency.

"Hello Laura."
I stopped to examine the room for a second. Or maybe I was examining her. I sure don't remember much of the room. She was about 5'4, with long brunette hair. Slender too. But it was too dark to see her eyes. They probably would've given her away. Her dominican and italian mixture gave her olive skin. Her picture didn't give her curves justice.
"James. Nice to finally meet the man behind the Soul." With a sultry wink to top it all off, a well prepared welcome.
"May I come in?"
"Well, they say that vampires can only enter your home if you invite them in. It's too bad you're already in here." She reached for her ear for just a second, and seemed to be talking to herself. "Soul is here. Can he come down?"

She motioned towards the barely lighted staircase. I started to glance around the room to really get a gauge for what I was walking into. It was in essence an abandoned home, that they had hacked themselves into ownership of. Not an easy task, in my opinion. But a few simple changes on a person's will, and the house was theirs. I suppose it wasn't as hard as I originally thought. The stairs we're old and dusty hardwood. It seemed like they were going to give way underneath me, and I was cautious. Ironically, more cautious than when I traversed the icy stairs at my own home.
I looked around the curve of the spiral staircase to see a surprising sight. The room was bright with natural light lamps. The windows we're boarded up with plywood, eerily almost. The room felt warm, but I wasn't planning on removing my jacket. My boots were greeted by a plush blue rug. The basement of that old house, was surprizingly spacious. Each operator had quite a good amount of room in their favor, not to mention the assortment of equipment on the opposite side of the room. I saw GPS systems, cell phone jammers, Police scanners, a computer dedicated to Front Door Video. I could go on and on. There were various other systems set up, with 5 24' inch Samsung screens set up across 5 desks. I saw different prompts flashing on the screens. Activities no doubt related to our operation. Each desk was it's own design, one aluminum, the other pressed wood, one was even glass panes. Quite an unexpected sight indeed. These were no ordinary people. The 6th was unoccupied, a glass pane suspended on a brushed aluminum frame.
My eyes met with each different operator, and my photographic memory did not fail me. There were 3 out of the 6 members looking back at me. Closest to me, Vince Band. High school drop out from New Jersey. He is the definition of steroid abusing guido. Left his mom when he was 18, currently 20. He was an only child, parents divorced and he chose his mother. Smart kid, but just too cocky. He got caught while hacking into a bank, when he was 17. Scraped by with 100 hours community service. Extremely light punishment considering. He goes by the name of 'Band Aid', surprisingly clever. Next in the row, Chris Mohrayhey. 5'9, Dirty blonde hair, dark brown eyes. Formerly acne ridden face. He worked the books for a large chain lighting shop in Texas, and altered the money system to allow himself a piece of each transaction. Such an overplayed move for someone of his intelligence. He was caught and served 2 years in prison as an adult from 18 to 20. Parents separated shortly after his encounter with the law, he blames himself and since then has not stepped out of line. His father moved to New york, specifically Hudson Valley. It took a lot of coaxing to get him here tonight. I gave his profile a bit of extra attention because of the car he drives. Specifically a 2005 Audi A6. You'd be surprised what kind of information your bank statements can give away about you. I was jealous of his car, but not his attitude. He is due off of his probation in 6 months if his good behavior continues. I don't have to point out the irony in that too do I? Goes by the name 'Moray Eel'. I would've expected better from my 22 year old elder.

"Vince.. Chris.. Good to see you."
"Hey Soul." (They didn't do their homework, tsk tsk.)

I did save the best for last, of course. Kenneth Mason, otherwise known as 'Concrete'. On the FBI watch list because of certain black-hole activities. 19 year old child prodigy. Worked at a Data Centre in Ottawa for a year before he saved enough money to move to the U.S. He wrote a revision of the NetSky virus that I still keep stored on my hard drive, very destructive. He still highly employed by a data filtering company that runs out of NYC. I can't imagine what he's done to them. If I am an angel, then he would defiantly be a demon. Of course, at this time I saw him as a friend. I was blind. He gave me a wave to come and sit next to him. As I approached his desk, I examined it. Two computers, both externally water cooled, probably toting "stolen" quad core processors. He was moving fast through command line interfaces, sending and receiving feedback. He paused his work for a moment, and removed his headset.

"Nice to see you James. I'm glad you had the balls to show. How do you like the setup down here?"
"Pretty decent. Those antennae are jacking cell information huh?"
"Someone knows their hardware, then again I should've expected this from you Soul."
"Too bad I forgot my cell at home, Ken."
"Don't call me that."
"I'll keep that in mind. So, what's the uplink down here?"
"Satellite direct in good old Mama Band's name of course."
"Oh how nice. That explains how he only got off with 100 hours community service."
"We're still waiting on our last member..."
"...Gino Frattelli correct?"
"Yes."
"Where does he fit in here, all of us have.. experience. He does not have any."
"Gino is our equipment guy. You see all that jamming equipment? Yeah, stolen from an evidence locker actually."
"Ah. Nice. So the question I have on my mind, is simply what are we doing here?"
"Once all of us are here, we'll start our little meeting."

I paused from our conversation for a moment to glance around the room. My new friend Vince was snorting a line of white powder off of a mirror. I shudder to the thought that he has or had any credibility at all. He also broke the golden rule. Never break more than one law at once. Then again, this basement broke at least 50 per occupant. I laughed to myself. I can't even think of what could've happened to me had my instincts been wrong about this place, these people. Maybe I should've listened. I heard movement upstairs, and the sound of muffled voices. Our last member had arrived.