Chapter 20
Twenty
Ava
Nothing exciting happens the rest of the week, so when Saturday comes with the expectation of a meeting with Dagen, Wylan, and Otto, I’m looking forward to it.
I’d offered to host the meeting at my house, to which they’d agreed, but when the doorbell rings, it’s only the robot screen at my door.
I have no idea where it came from or who dropped it off, but it’s there in all its static glory.
It has two wheels on the bottom that it balances over like a segway. I assume that’s how it gets around.
“Where are the others?” I ask.
The mask flickers in the static. “This part is all me.”
I gesture to the open doorway. “Should I. . . help this thing inside?”
“Nope. It can handle a few steps,” Otto replies, and sure enough, the thing does seem to climb stairs pretty well. I try not to think about how weird that is, but. . . it’s difficult. I’m talking to a robot screen on wheels after all.
I have a tough time remembering that this man, this anonymous screen, is Otto_Bot, the very same hacker responsible for bringing down some of the highest and most powerful people in the world.
He uses his power mostly for good, even if it’s chaotically good.
Sometimes, when there are no other options, violence is all that’s left.
While Otto_Bot has never participated in the violence himself, he’s singlehandedly responsible for a lot of it.
I don’t think Dagen could have hired a more high-profile hacker.
I don’t even know how Dagen has the connections to hire one of the most wanted hackers in the United States to begin with.
“Which part is this again? That you’re handling?” I ask as I close the door behind the robot and lock it. The alarm system kicks on automatically as I do so.
“You and I are going to set up a definitive plan to take Ricardo down. The financial and social categories are at the top of the list. Physical will come later.”
“I thought we’d already figured that out?”
“Just vague mentions. But we need actual plans, not just concepts of them,” he says, moving over to the kitchen table. The screen bumps into the table and I hear him curse softly. “Sorry. Still getting the hang of this thing. Is your daughter here?”
“Upstairs playing in her room,” I say.
The screen moves a little, rolling back on his wheels almost like a nod.
“Good.” The sound of clicking keys on a keyboard filters into the room as he pulls up whatever information he needs on his computer.
It’s strange to think of this machine as a man, but it’s easier if I think of it like a videochat.
Otto_Bot didn’t get to where he is by plastering his identity everywhere.
Anonymity is crucial for every good hacker.
Anyone with half a brain knows that. But part of me wishes I had a face to the handle, that I could look him in the eyes as he helps me get revenge on my ex-husband.
I could almost argue this man, right now, is no different than using my Alexa or Siri.
“I would offer you something to drink but. . .” I start, my voice trailing off. “Are we ever going to meet in person, you think?”
“That’s still up in the air,” he responds. “But if you ever do, coffee is my preference.”
“Good to know,” I murmur. “I’m going to make myself something while you get set up.”
I move around the kitchen to make myself some hot chocolate. In the meantime, I study the static mask currently flickering in the screen before me. I have no idea what he looks like, but I can paint a picture with the little facts I do know.
Otto_Bot is probably always casual, rarely dressed in anything but a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.
I imagine he wears glasses, only because there’s this little movement across the static every now and then like he’s pushing them up or adjusting them.
Would they make him look boyish and cute, or like a professor?
Maybe he’s tall and lean, his face angular, or maybe he’s soft and a big teddy bear.
He probably has messy hair, not because it’s dirty, but because running your hand through your hair while you work on the computer is such a habit for me, I assume it’s one for him as well.
All of this is just imagination. I couldn’t guess accurately at even the smallest detail.
All I have to go on is his voice, which he has not modulated, and his words.
It’s a genuinely nice voice though. Deep and level, calm.
“So, we’re not planning to attack him physically?” I ask as the machine runs.
Another little jostle from the robot. “No. Wylan is going to mildly inconvenience him for now like we discussed. He’s not happy about it, but he’s good at what he does.”
Something in his words makes me frown, an undertone of malice maybe, but the machine dings, so I turn to worry about that and don’t think about the strange tone in his voice again.
“What exactly comes with mildly inconveniencing him?” I ask.
“Sneak into his hotel room and take the batteries out of everything, steal the toilet seat, set the wake-up call for three in the morning. Those kinds of things.”
I laugh at the ridiculousness of that, how childish it is, but I also imagine Ric’s reaction to all of these things and can’t help but enjoy it.
He was always a stickler for everything being in its exact place.
“Have him move everything an inch to the right, too. He won’t understand why it freaks him out, but I imagine it’ll be great for his nerves. ”
The computer screen looks over at me like he thinks it’s childish, too, but when he sees my laugh, I hear his own chuckle.
“It feels a lot like Mean Girls level petty, doesn’t it?” I ask, shaking my head. “Maybe this was a silly plan after all.”
“There’s some merit in the plan,” Otto says.
His mask shifts in the static, as if looking down at my arm where some of my scars are uncovered.
I’m not wearing my blazer today. Instead, I’m wearing only a tank top and jeans.
I suddenly realize just how many scars he can see right now.
I usually have them covered up when I’m not at home, but I hadn’t thought about it today.
I’d grab a jacket and cover them up, but it’s too late to hide them now. He’s already seen them.
“Do you want me to put a jacket on?” I murmur, glancing down at the biggest scars, everything from cigarette burns to cuts.
Some people don’t like to see the reminders. They don’t like to know that evil exists in this world, so when they see evidence of it, they prefer it wasn’t there. If it bothers Otto, I’ll cover them up. I’ve grown indifferent to them at this point because they’re a sign that we got out.
“Why would you do that?” he asks, the machine moving as if in agitation.
“They’re ugly,” I shrug. “I get that.”
The computer screen rushes over to me so suddenly, it startles me.
I stumble back in surprise, bumping my hips into the countertop as he stops right in front of me.
The mask on his face shivers, and I can imagine his eyes are hard on mine.
He has no way to grab me with this machine, no way to do anything at all.
My hand wraps around my wrist and rubs at the scar there, the one that first made the hospital start questioning how truly clumsy I am.
The wrist had been broken at some point, and I had to have pins put in.
I forget what the reason was that Ric had snapped it. It was probably something small.
“Battle scars aren’t ugly,” he whispers. “They’re a part of you. You shouldn’t ever cover them up.”
“They’re hardly battle scars,” I say, looking down.
“Don’t do that,” he chastises, and I flick my gaze back up to the screen. “I don’t think you realize you were in a war, Ava. A battle is a battle regardless of your opponent. Even if it was your own mind. Even if it was your husband.”
I suck in a breath. “You’ve seen the records then,” I rasp.
“I see everything,” he muses. “I know your grades from kindergarten, your final exam from college, that you dislike green tea, and yes. . . I’ve seen the medical records.”
I flinch. “I bet you’re wondering why I stayed so long.”
“I’m not. I’m well aware what a narcissist is capable of.
” The robot screen rolls backward and I immediately miss his presence being so close.
Which is weird. Because he’s only literally a robot screen right now.
“Besides, I also saw Elsie’s medical records, or lack thereof.
” The mask tilts on the screen. “You never let him touch her.”
The tears swell in my eyes before I can stop them. It’s not something I talk about. Not even Tonya knows the extent I went to, to keep Elsie safe. But here’s this hacker who deep-dived into my history, seeing things I’d really rather he didn’t, who saw what I’d done.
He doesn’t say a word when the first tear falls. The screen rolls back and forth as if he’s not sure what to do. Part of me thinks he’d comfort me if he were here. Another part reminds myself that I have no idea who this man even is.
“You’re a good mom,” Otto says, the static flickering.
That only makes the tears flow faster. He’s almost a stranger, definitely a criminal, but here he is, telling me I’m a good mom after seeing just how extensive I was abused.
“Oh my god,” I rasp. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s come over me.” I wipe my face and turn around, trying to compose myself.
“Don’t be,” he says. “You have nothing to apologize for. When you’re ready, come have a seat and I’ll run through all the information I have so far in case I’ve missed something.”
I sniffle and clean my face as I get my emotions under control, making sure I’m somewhat presentable. I shove my emotions down, trying to swallow them so they don’t slap me in the face again before I turn around and take my seat. My mug warms my hands and keeps me grounded.
“Okay, Otto_Bot,” I say, smiling. “Let’s do this.”
Something about me using his handle makes his mask shake and he has to clear his throat to launch into some of his plans.
Those plans include everything from gathering enough evidence to report him to the FBI for embezzlement to throwing a billboard with his photo and a list of all the people he’s stolen from.
Otto has covered all the bases, and he’s come up with a ton of ideas.
“Also, in a few weeks, we’re going to an event,” Otto adds.
“What event?”
“The New York Tech Summit. Aria Tech is due to give a speech and is a major contributor. Dagen will, of course, be there representing Fox Industries, and you’ll be his date for the evening.” Otto watches my face as he relays the information.
“And you and Wylan?”
“Will also be in attendance,” he answers. “Though we’ll be incognito. Or at least I will. I’m not sure Wylan can resist poking fun at a bunch of rich assholes.”
“You’ll be there in person?” I clarify. “Or with the robot? The robot may be a bit inconspicuous.”
“I’m still undecided if the risk is worth it or not to see Ric’s face when we do whatever we figure out we’re doing,” he admits. “I’ll let you know.”
I sigh. “It would be nice to know who I’m actually speaking to.”
“I’m not so important,” he says. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
“I’ll tell you what,” I answer, tapping the table. “We meet in person and I’ll make you that coffee.”
“I’ll do you one better,” he says. “We meet in person, and I’ll take you to a coffee shop that has good hot chocolate. Less work. More time to talk.”
I huff out a laugh and run a hand through my hair. Despite the silly teasing and the possibility of meeting him, I realize that I don’t have long before I’ll be forced to face Ric fully. “I don’t know if I’m ready to face him in a professional setting.”
“You won’t be alone,” Otto points out. “Dagen won’t leave your side and I’ll be right there as well in some aspect. Not to mention Wylan.”
I reach over and touch the robot. “I appreciate everything you’re doing for me and Elsie, Otto. I can’t ever express enough gratitude. I know you’re doing this for the money, but. . . still. Thank you.”
“It’s not just the money,” he says, the robot screen moving back and forth.
He doesn’t pull away though. “Assholes like Ricardo McCoy deserve their comeuppance more often. I’m doing the world a service.
” His mask tilts. “And maybe, I like you. So doing it for you isn’t such a challenging thing to do. ”
His gaze flicks along the scars on my arms and somehow, I know both of us know they aren’t the worst of them. I’m peppered with them, but not on my face. Never the face.
“Otto_Bot, doing good things,” I muse. “You know, a lot of people consider you like Batman.”
“They shouldn’t,” he says.
“Why not?” I ask. “Vigilante justice isn’t so bad.”
The screen looks down. “Batman was a good guy.” I hear him start tapping on the keyboard again. “I’m not.”
And he offers no explanation as to why.
Something in my chest squeezes tight, but I’m not afraid. Not in the slightest. Not when a text comes through with a smiley face and a link to a video about coffee. Apparently, he meant what he said.
I really hope I get to meet him in person one day. I really hope I’ll get to put a face to the voice. A meme comes through at the same time about a dancing cat and I giggle.
I only realize after the robot screen leaves that I never gave him my phone number.