Everything always had to be excessively clean.
Andrew Williamson washed his hands for the 3rd time. Just as he'd cleaned his kitchen three times, and locked the door three times.
What the small studio apartment lacked in furnishings and comforts, it made up for in it's immaculate form. One could easily eat off of any surface in the house.
Visitors were not welcome.
Visitors touched things. Pens were left on the counter instead of the pen holder. Sticky Notes were moved 1/3 of an inch. No.... visitors were not welcome.
Andrew was precise.
Which is what made him such a keen observer, and why hacking was a perfect fit. His code was clean, pure, and elegant. Most coders were sloppy, and that's how he got in most of the time. He could spot their mess, and see right through it.
He sat down in the white porcelain chair (easier to keep clean), in his white Kung Fu style clothing (relaxed, efficient), to type on his white MacBook Pro (only the best will do).
Andrew's fingers danced across the keyboard like a concert pianist. In moments he was through the firewall and into the main server.
He closed his laptop and smiled, thinking how funny it would be when all the employees at Stouts Inc. helplessly watched Annoying Orange make fun of them for an hour as they tried to shut down and reboot the system's firewalls. At which point his virus would take it's full control over the system, disappearing from their detection and silently sending him a stream of data.
Phase 1, complete. Phase 2, collect his paycheck from the man who hired him. Ronald Greenhorn. He tried to warn the board that they were vulnerable. Rather than suffer a real attack with real losses, he hired Andrew to show them just how bad it could be. Only one week ago, he'd received the invitation. He could not pass up the chance to hack his childhood toy manufacturer.
Andrew called Greenhorn, but there was no answer. He must be busy with the chaos. The television showed nothing interesting, another bombing. Same news.
Except... wait. What?
"Ronald Greenhorn, Chief Technology Officer at Stouts Inc., was found dead last night in his corporate suite. Coroners believe he died three weeks ago, but the suite had been empty. The Cleaning Crew, returning after a holiday break found him during the pre-shift cleaning.
Detectives were still sussing out answers when a virus took over the facilities computer systems. The FBI has been called in to lead the investigation, as they believe both incidents are related."
The Calling Card!
It was always part of his hacks, especially when he was hired by the company he was hacking. It was his way of achieving credit, and payment.
Breath constricted, pulse increased, dizziness set in... he could feel his skin becoming balmy as his fingers grew cold.
He was loosing control, he could not lose control.
He'd been set up, framed, and involved in something he'd never asked for. He never actually met Mr. Greenhorn, only connected through other contacts. But now it was obvious that he had never been hired by him at all.
He closed his eyes, took several deep breaths, and focused his mind. One thing about having a meticulous mind, was ensuring that plans were always kept meticulously in the mind, never on paper or servers for people to locate.
Andrew took his laptop, wiped down the apartment for prints, hair, anything that would tell his ID. He left, locking the door three times, and walked down the hall.
* Just because... that was fun to write.
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