*COMPLETED* (18+) MATURE
Wrong number...usually a person would delete the number, right? A mistaken text leads to blood money and danger. Chris Johnson, a gender fluid male, receives a text from a mystery guy who shares a card number. Aware that i...
In an office full of bean bags, circle chairs, colorful lights, and retro desks, I type away with a gang on computers. All of our screens are black and white with coding. We can't be discovered by what is most likely Mafia business.
The card is off the grid and so heavily fortified, that the original holder had to be a kingpin or something. I've contacted the Chris guy through email about this, but it's been a while since he responded.
Maybe he's dead. Maybe that's why our location is being ran. Fuck!
"Pizza or tacos?" Lillian, the only lady in our group, asks.
"Pizza," I say. The three others, who are guys, two young twins, and one dude close to thirty, take some time to think it over. I lean back in my chair, stretching and yawning.
"Tacos." The two twins say.
"If I have pizza again, I'm gonna barf." The other guy, John, adds.
"It's three in the morning, what taco places are open?" I inform.
Lilian deflates. "Oh...right."
"Where the hell did time go, it was just eight? I literally will throw up if I smell or see pizza again." John shivers. "What'd I give for a personal chef." He stops typing as if he is just hit by something invisible.
I become concerned about his sudden bizarreness. "You okay?"
"Check the card and see if anything has changed" John voice shakes as if he's a crackhead.
"No," I say. "It's under surveillance."
Lillian, a woman in her thirties with dark ruby hair, stops typing. "What if the money is gone? I think John is right; we need to check."
I look to Wiley and Wilson, two twins with ginger hair, who were mostly quiet, and took both sides, like Switzerland. "What do you two think?" Before either can reply, John cuts them off.
"Who cares? We all know what their answer is gonna be. Look...." John stands and comes my way. "The firewall isn't going to break. I'm talking five seconds; then, we get back to jamming the signal. We need to know if there's still money to save...right now, it could be smoke. You lost contact with the client, did you not?" I huff. "Come on, Tim." John pleads.
I stare at him, then to the rest of the gang.
"I think it'll be okay to check it," Wiley agrees.
"It's not like we can't handle a tech war." Lillian winks cockily.
I don't know...this is complex, they're not thinking straight. I shake my head. "Guys, no."
"Lillian." John says her name with a 'I give you permission' kind of tone.
"Hey!" I shout, getting to my feet, but John extends an arm to block my movement.
Lillian types up a new, blank screen, inserting brackets, access numbers, symbols, and unpairing shields. Her pretty fingers add the card number into the mix. The screen loads. Lillian stops breathing and stares at it with so much tension. The rest of us freeze in place, too, anticipating the results. The money...the fucking million dollars.
"Five seconds, exit out now!" I panic.
"Holy shit!" She exclaims.
Wilson rolls his chair over to get a better look at the screen. John's arm lowers, I take this chance to end the quick analysis. On my computer, I type in code; mirroring Lillian's screen. I don't view the balance of the card because of my nerves firing. My fingers begin hitting at keys, ready to create a death signal so that the search is invisible to the other hacker. My curiosity gets the best of me. I end up reading the balance before pressing enter.
Impossible, no fucking way! WHAT?!!!
"This is it!" John laughs crazily. "Our big break, fuck yeah, this shit has finally paid off!"
Lillian gives a high five to one of the twins. "Willy boys, turn on some god damn music and get some drinks!" She takes on the role of a hype man, her energy through the roof as she dances in place with a wide sway. The twins follow her orders like foot soldiers.
John charges across the room like a happy bull. "We can get millions now, fucking hundreds of millions. Tim, come on, fucking celebrate with us!" The room fills with trap music, blasting from an Alexa speaker. The twins carry out drinks from a mini-fridge, Mike Hard lemonade. "WE'RE MILLIONAIRES BOYS!!!" John hollers, taking a glass bottle from one of the twins, snapping it open, and gulping it down.
"Shhh! Do you want us to get robbed?!" I snap, still gaping at the computer screen in disbelief.
"We got the heat if they try," Lillian sings smugly, referring to a safety cabinet we have that's stocked of guns and ammo.
They're acting ridiculous. This money isn't ours yet. I don't think it will ever be.
The balance on the screen reads $10,000,000,000...but I still don't celebrate just yet, because more money more problems.
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