Rami Malek One-Shots

Elliot Alderson x Reader

Hacking isn't always what it was cut out to be. Sure, you could make someone's life miserable with a click of a button, or millions in a matter of minutes. Hacking is rough, foul, and dirty. Everyone wants the same thing you do. Everyone wants to get ahead. One wrong move, and every single drive, every pixel of data you own will burn into nothingness.

At least it sometimes pays the bills.

You sat in a small coffee shop. A few nighttime drinkers sat alone at tables or booths, typing on their laptops or phones. You liked it here because of the wifi. It was great for running Wget, your hacking software. It wasn't the best, but it was the best you could afford. You sat at the counter, typing away on your laptop. There was this man that was dating your ex-mother, and you wanted to "figure him out". Did I mention that your parents disowned you because they hated kids?

Anyway, you didn't like the looks of the guy. His name was Lenny Price, and his face looked about as fake as his name sounded. His Facebook page was filled of pictures of him and your ex-mother, Karol (y/l/n). After your parents disowned you, you gave yourself an entirely different name, (your nickname). It was short and anonymous. Just the way hackers like it.

As you were searching through this man's life, you noticed an interesting guy sitting a few seats down from you. He wore a black hoodie, loose, black jeans and black Converse. His eyes were sunken in, and he seemed to be expecting someone. You ignored him and continued looking at your computer. Yet, something scratched the back of your mind about this guy. He looked as though the couldn't be trusted... almost like you.

A bell dinging throughout the store broke your train of thought as a dark-skinned man walked in. He wore a tan sweater with a light shirt underneath. He carried himself proudly, as if he owned the place. He probably did. He greeted some people who manned the counter you sat at, then sat at his own table. The guy who sat at the bar got up, then sat down at the table with the other man. You could just make out their conversation.

"Hey, Ron. There you are," the guy in black began. Ron looked up from whatever he was doing. "You're Ron? But Your real name is Rohit D'Temeta. You changed it to Ron when you bought your first Ron's Coffee Shop six years ago. Now, you got 17 of 'em with eight more coming next quarter," the other guy said. Your ears pricked. Is he who you think he is...?

"May I help you with something?" Ron asked. The other guy didn't notice the question and continued.

"I like coming here, 'cause your wifi was fast. I mean, you're one of the few spots that has a fiber connection with gigabit speed. It's good. I mean, it was so good, it scratched that part of my mind. The part that doesn't allow good to exist without condition. So, I started intercepting all the traffic on your network. That's when I noticed something strange. That's when I decided to hack you." You were definitely listening now. Hack? You knew it!

"Hack-" Ron was cut off by the guy in black.

"I know you run a website called Plato's Boys," he said nonchalantly. Ron's mouth made an 'o' shape for a moment before answering.

"Pardon me?" he asked in shock. The other guy nodded.

"You're using Tor networking to keep the servers anonymous. You made it really hard for anyone to see it. But I saw it. The onion routing protocol, it's not as anonymous as you think it is. Whoever's in control of the exit nodes is also in control of the traffic, which makes me the one in control," he said. You would have to be an A* hacker to know everything he just explained. You would know.

"I must ask you to kindly leave, please," Ron spluttered.

"I own everything," the other guy exclaimed. "All your emails. All your files. All your pics," he emphasized the last word, tossing a manila folder to Ron. Ron looked inside for a moment, then looked back to the man, face etched with anger and shock.