Nameless
In the neon pulse of Mecropolis, a single wrong digit could unravel a life.
A keypress was a heartbeat, and the space between each stroke was the distance between life and death.
A nameless security breacher’s heart raced as he dove deeper into the virtual labyrinth, alarms blaring and lights flashing in his mind’s eye. The job was supposed to be a simple digital smash-and-grab at a food industry corporation’s headquarters, but unexpected obstacles had slowed him down.
His fingers danced over a security terminal, launching a custom attack virus that tore through layers of high-tech network security like tissue paper. Nameless was a net-diver of the highest caliber, the kind who could slip through firewalls like a whisper. Years of experience had honed his instincts to the point that he could sense security protocols even before his gear registered them. In the abstract labyrinth of the digital world, he moved like a shadow, rarely leaving a trace and always ready to counter-attack. He could pick apart encryption with a finesse that felt almost surgical, cutting clean holes through layers of corporate security that would take lesser divers hours to crack.
As he navigated the network in a virtual space, he couldn’t help but wonder what secrets the food corp had been hiding beyond his intended target. He spotted intense security measures that hinted at something far more sinister than a simple corporate data theft job. With each passing second, his fear grew; the odds of emerging unscathed were falling. Yet, he might have feared disappointing his job fixer even more, for there’s no easier way to develop a bad reputation or destroy a good one.
Site security approached, and he didn’t need to be jacked into the security net to know; he could hear them trying to break down the door to the room he was in, a room he had remotely locked them out of. He wondered how they could have found him, and could have figured it out if he had had time to backtrace the logs. He had simply gotten sloppy somewhere along the way, and they had pinpointed his location to the access node he breached. He wouldn’t let himself live this down, as he was his own harshest critic, and neither would anyone else in the sec-breaching community. If he hadn’t been so careless, he could have hidden his errors, but regardless of any actions at this point, it was inevitable; everyone would know. The net would know.
The security forces were making progress on their own breaching efforts. Efforts he was fully capable of hearing in the real world around him, even though he couldn’t move in it while breaching security nets. What was real anyway? He had always found more comfort in the digital space, which was just as real to him, with very real consequences for sloppiness. He could disconnect and run for it, yet he hadn’t obtained his prize. He couldn’t afford the time to scan the layers of the network and knew that with his luck, he would be bound to hit a microbe. He knew he could handle any digital security microbe a network could throw at him, but was that his overconfidence speaking again? He hadn’t seen a security microbe yet but knew at least one pod had to be floating out there in the netspace, waiting to infect him. Or at least try.
A sharp, psychosomatic pain at the nape of his neck told him he had found one, or rather, one had found him. He had been distracted and let it sneak up on him. Code had begun to inject itself into his netspace form. Even though it couldn’t pass into his physical body, it could still trick his brain into all sorts of illusions, some even deadly. His microbarriers auto-deployed and were vastly stronger and easily capable of handling the intruder without his direct intervention. The microbes released from the attached pod fizzled and died. Too easy? He thought, as he sighed in the physical world and his muscles tensed up. In the netspace, he saw another microbe pod swimming his way. The last one had been just a floater, testing the space and looking for intruders. He watched as the pod released a torrent of microbes. As swift as an electric current, he erected an offensive force field to not only block the onslaught but also disable them as they came into contact with it. He called the virus ‘Ice Cold’ and smirked as the defeated microbes fell like digital raindrops dissolving into the void—his domain.
People called him Nameless, and he would tell anyone who asked that he was a nobody existing nowhere, the easiest way to deflect any questions he wasn’t ready to answer. He found it also added to an air of mystery that he liked presenting. Rigid stoicism kept people from prying, and his reputation in the community kept them from insisting. Reputation was everything to sec-breachers. You lived and died by the jobs you got; your reputation dictated not only the types of jobs but, more importantly, the pay. Nameless’s rep was hard-fought through years of net capers and corporate security net defeats.
The latest round of microbes were defeated, but Nameless still faced more security layers; this next one was easy enough. It was simply a password layer, and he always dove into networks with his favorite attack virus auto-enabled. He named it “Password”, since it was programmed to automatically enter the word ‘password’ into any security field. It worked more times than it should, but not this time. He would have to deploy another custom-programmed virus to bypass it, and his “Backdoor” virus easily met the challenge. A file called “Spice #12” presented itself to him. Someone’s idea of a joke, everyone thought they were clever. He recognized the hypocrisy of his criticism of the author of this file when he was clearly guilty of pseudo-cleverness in his virus naming conventions. He had what he came for, but no time to wipe away traces of his dive. There was no point in this case really, the building’s security forces already knew he was there. The only thing left to do was to disconnect and run for it, fast.
Just as he was about to unplug, something caught Nameless’ eye. Directly opposite to him was a mirrored image - no, not a mirror - another sec-breacher. They were also copying a file, but in a parallel layer, something he had never seen before with his own digital eyes. Although he had heard of parallel layers spoken of as a myth. This confirmed his theory that the network’s depth exceeded his needs for the heist, raising concerns that his layer might be a decoy, camouflaging the real one. His installed viruses could see through the ruse, but Nameless was struck by the other sec-breacher’s bit of a confident wave and a wink.
“Thanks for the distraction, partner,” the words echoed beyond the digital space and into his very real meat brain. This breacher, who bore a striking resemblance to a kid’s cartoon cowboy, was tapped directly into his subdermally implanted communications agent embedded into his audio cortex. The cowboy’s digital avatar was detailed, complete with a wide-brimmed hat, a bandana around his neck, and a pair of pixelated six-shooters at his hips. His face, however, was marred by a scar running vertically over one side. Nameless wondered if it was part of the Old West affectation or if the cowboy was proudly displaying a scar from his past. “And thanks for taking out all the security layers, and I guess just generally making my day so much easier. I would say sorry for leaving you to take the fall for this... but I’m really not.”
Before Nameless could even process a response, the breacher de-rezzed, leaving behind a cloaking virus covering his trail and taking his file with him. Before he disappeared, Nameless’s “ID” virus caught the file’s name, two words: “Neon Black”. This place was just full of things that shouldn’t exist, he thought to himself. He didn’t have time for this now, as the door to the room he was in blasted open and smoke filled the immediate area.
“Hey! It’s Roland. I don’t know what you did, but reinforcements are converging on the building from all sides, and they are packing some heavy heat.” A familiar and friendly voice rang out on his comm agent. Nameless disconnected and unplugged from the net terminal he had snuck into the security office to access. He couldn’t take a moment to process what he had seen in the net as security officers poured into the room and indiscriminately opened fire. “Did you at least get the file while you were alerting the entire corp to your presence?” Roland’s voice rattled in his head over their open comm link as Nameless physically dove behind the reinforced carbon-steel security terminal.
Nameless noted these sec-men were far better equipped than expected, as he glanced down at his own attire. The bodysuit clung to him like a second skin, its adaptive fabric as quiet as silk yet dense enough to dull the impact of low-velocity rounds. Woven with nano-carbon fibers, it was built to blend him into shadows and deflect most thermal imaging. Small pockets and holsters lay close to his body, stashing hacking chips and a modified taser, all designed for utility over style. The suit’s surface shifted hues subtly when he moved, an added layer of camouflage for the urban jungle. Though not visibly muscular, his lithe frame was perfect for sneaking in and out of high-security areas undetected. A few small, easily concealable firearms were also strapped to his body, ready for use when necessary.
He wore a streamlined headset with an integrated digital display, allowing him to visualize the hacking and net-diving world. His headset was a custom piece, sleek as liquid graphite, its dark surface broken only by a faint green hue bouncing off his face from the interior HUD. It pulsed with readouts in his peripheral vision displaying layers of augmented-reality data. Details of network architecture, threat levels, and a heat-map overlay for tracking nearby lifeforms all which filed in around his field of view. The helmet was loaded with every exploit, bypass, and brute-force hack he’d coded over the years, deployable with the mere thought.
The jack-in cable, snaking from the nape of his neck, was coiled with anti-interference shielding. It had a reinforced coupling mechanism to safeguard against ‘rip-outs,’ a favorite move of corp security. Nameless often joked that this cord was his lifeline, and in a way, it was; the port fed directly into his neural hub. This allowed him to sync to the net with split-second response times. A subtle shiver ran through him every time it clicked into place, like a promise that he was leaving the physical world behind.
Nameless had kitted himself for infiltration, not combat, and the heavy weaponry of the security force betrayed the identity of the corp. This had to be a front, he told himself. There was no way the name on the building matched this level of security presence. One thing he knew was they weren’t a part of the Anodyne Group, so he puzzled over how the hell they had gotten hold of Neon Black. It was probably a good thing that the breacher had stolen the documents. Nothing good could come from the analysis of that project. Bullets thudded into the side of the table, its construction incorporating various alloys and ceramics to withstand heavy impact. Other bullets rang off the edge, ricocheting dangerously into the room. The relentless gunfire reminded Nameless that he had no time to contemplate the ramifications of his discovery. He knew he had to make his escape – from the room, the building, the airspace, all of it. Fast.
“Get up to the roof,” Roland interjected into Nameless’s thoughts. “Our client has graciously offered us the use of his armored quad-copter for exfil. Let’s put it to the test, shall we? I’m here now and clearing a path for you. Behind you should be an emergency elevator. I’ve locked the lift to the basement level. How are you at climbing?” Roland could only hear the sound of gunfire in response. Don’t think, just run, Nameless told himself. With luck, he’d make it out with all his limbs and no new holes.
Opposite the armed guards sat the elevator door, a dull gray, its surface marred by scratches and dents from years of use. A keypad on the wall next to the door displayed a red light, indicating that the elevator was out of order. It slid open automatically thanks to Roland, its blackness beckoning Nameless to make a break for it. Their aim can’t be that good, can it? He asked himself as he locked his sights on the open door, tensed his muscles, and broke into a sprint. Nameless ducked under a table covered with terribly expensive-looking experimental equipment that, until now, had rested undisturbed. He noted strange machines and complex apparatus that cluttered the surface burst apart from gunfire. He jumped over a rolling chair, pushing it towards the guards to create a distraction as their bullets tried their best to make their mark. But as well-armed as the security team might have been, their lack of any real-world training showed clearly. Nameless reached the empty elevator shaft, diving into its black void with less-than-graceful form.
He hit the ground almost immediately, standing up to realize that he was standing atop the roof of the stuck elevator. The elevator’s metal walls were slick with grime and rust, and a hardline port jutted out from the wall near the floor. Nameless quickly reached behind his head, pulling out his net plug and inserting it into the controls. Letting his auto-virus Password work its magic, he was about to engage the lift when a stray bullet pierced the physical wire connecting him to the panel, forcefully ejecting him from the breached elevator network. The pain from not activating his disconnect process was severe, causing him to arch his back and stifle a scream.
He then crumpled into a heap, holding back any sound. He wanted to scream in agony but didn’t want his attackers to know they had him on the ropes. Glancing up the shaft, he saw only a ladder to lead him up and out. Forcing himself to his feet, he took to climbing without even bothering to count how many floors he must ascend. However, without even making it past a single floor, a hatch on the top of the stalled elevator flew open and guards from inside the elevator took aim. He considered unholstering his own pistol to attack first. Still, before anyone could make a move, the elevator lurched upwards, knocking Nameless off the ladder onto his back atop the elevator, doing the same to the guards within. At the same time, the momentum slammed the hatch closed on them. This would buy him some time, he thought, but it could still result in his death if he hit the ceiling at full force.
He was at least pleased to see the elevator shaft ride was a long one. He was ten stories underground of a 40-story building, after all, and he was headed directly to the roof. He looked at the plug end of his sec-breach cable still sitting in the elevator control slot and considered how he could work out a makeshift reconnection, but regardless of the ultimate height of the shaft, his ride was fast and the approaching end was near. He tucked the other side of his breaching cable back into its slot at the nape of his neck and positioned himself. He tensed his muscles once more, preparing for an acrobatic maneuver similar to what got him in here in the first place. Quickly calculating his timing as the elevator ascended, he sprang into action just one floor before he would be squished into a combination of mushy human parts and high-end electronics.
Thankfully, Roland was prepared for him and had the elevator doors to the roof open and ready for a spectacular display of athleticism. Nameless flipped backward, pushed off the elevator mechanisms, and shot forward through the shaft’s opening. He landed with a roll as the elevator collided at full speed with the top of the shaft. It exploded violently, unquestionably killing everyone inside. Dust settled at the entrance as fiery remains plummeted back down the shaft, ensuring no one could follow him up. He stood with grace but felt an enormous amount of pain. He reminded himself to keep his cool in front of his tactician, Roland. Rep was everything.
Nameless emerged onto the rooftop, and for a moment, the chaos of the situation seemed to fade away as he was met with a breathtaking view of the cityscape. Mecropolis stretched out before him, an awe-inspiring expanse of neon-lit skyscrapers, their vibrant colors mingling with the inky dark sky above. The buildings seemed to pulse with life, each a testament to human ingenuity and ambition. The higher structures pierced the clouds, their peaks obscured by the misty embrace of the heavens. Far below, a complex matrix of elevated pathways and translucent roadways pulsed with kinetic energy as vehicles of all shapes and sizes, unbound by gravity, darted through the air. Their neon trails painted streaks of color against the darkened cityscape, creating a mesmerizing light show. The hum of anti-grav engines and the rhythmic pulse of digital life echoed through the towering urban canyons, a symphony of progress and artificial existence.
High above it all, the wind whipped around Nameless, who could feel the energy of the city coursing through his veins. The rush of new sounds hit him like a wall, an orchestra of sirens, distant music, and the hum of countless conversations. The chaos of the world below seemed a stark contrast to the danger he faced, yet it was an essential part of the city that shaped him, the city he now had to flee.
But this brief respite couldn’t last. Nameless refocused his attention on the task at hand as he spotted the quadcopter and sprinted towards it, the city’s beauty giving way to the urgency of the moment. As he approached, he was greeted by a smiling Roland, shaking his head at the sight of the unscathed sec-breacher. With more lives than a cat, Nameless, his friend and long-time work partner, never disappointed. Nameless caught a fleeting glint from a sniper rifle scope positioned ominously on a rooftop behind Roland. Just as fleeting, he watched an excited Roland’s face disintegrate, like a completed puzzle shattering to pieces as it hit the floor.
Life and death were as ephemeral as the ever-changing pulse of the city beneath. He had no time to think or mourn his friend; he was almost at the finish line. Keeping his head low, he broke into a sprint towards the quadcopter that had started to wind down its motor as its pilot slumped forward onto the decelerator. Nameless managed to make it into the cockpit and push the remains of Roland unceremoniously out the door. What remained of Roland flopped down onto the roof of the building with an unpleasant splat. The interior of the quadcopter was a seamless blend of advanced technology and rugged practicality. Though the exterior suggested a sleek and modern design, the cockpit had an almost utilitarian feel, with years of flying technology perfected in its construction.
The control panel before him was an array of holographic interfaces, their luminescent displays casting a soft glow throughout the cabin. The controls responded smoothly to his touch, with intuitive menus and dials that made piloting the advanced aircraft feel like second nature. Digital readouts displayed critical information such as altitude, speed, and battery levels, ensuring that Nameless was always aware of the quadcopter’s status.
As the engines resumed their life, Nameless could feel the raw power vibrating through the craft. The quadcopter was propelled by hyper-revolve engines, a cutting-edge technology that allowed for rapid acceleration and precise maneuvering. The engines glowed with an intense, almost ethereal light, their hum a constant reminder of the incredible force that carried them through the skies.
The vehicle had already passed all its pre-flight checks and sat ready for takeoff. Should be easy enough, right Roland? He thought as he mourned his friend for a moment while activating the controls to both ascend into the air and place the rear of the vehicle between him and the distant sniper to obscure their view. As powerful as sniper rifle bullets were, they couldn’t pierce the armor of his craft, though that didn’t stop Roland’s killers from trying. Repeated thudding from the rear of the vehicle echoed through the cockpit as the high-impact rifle rounds lodged themselves into the armor plating, a necessary trait for a craft that often found itself in the line of fire.
It was the only thing Nameless heard over the sound of the vehicle as he took off into the night, leaving the corp airspace. He sent a message through the neural encryption chip embedded in his brain, enabling direct, secure communication with the civilian net. His message was bound for the client who hired him and Roland for the job; he informed them of the completion of the gig and nothing else, no mention of Roland’s death or the other breacher he encountered conducting the job. He’d have a word with his fixer and hope, for the fixer’s sake, he wasn’t set up. If he wasn’t, then that would mean the other breacher knew about his job, silently followed him into the network, and stayed undetected. That level of skill concerned Nameless.
Flying into the night sky, he recognized he had learned two truths that night: he was going to need a new tactical technician, and “Neon Black” was out there, which wasn’t something he could ignore. Nameless stared over the city he called home through a windshield smeared with Roland’s remains, another person claimed in the name of this city. Roland’s tale had ended, his exploits just another myth for the next dreamer coming to Mecropolis looking to make a name for themselves.
