Chapter 8 Delightful Mischief
Delightful Mischief
David stared at his monitor, the pulsating blue light flexing in time with the annoyance and frustration that bubbled through his veins like a cauldron of boiling water.
Why couldn’t he find this scumbag? This wasn’t a nuisance; it was an affront.
Nobody eluded him—not in this realm. He was a freakin’ god online, the undisputed master of the digital landscape.
Okay, not a god, but certainly a tech-mage, conjuring code and commanding computers as if they were mere toys—writing complex scripts with his mind, making machines bend to his will. Yet, here he sat, stymied by one pathetic loser.
He needed to shake off this irritation.
He needed a distraction.
A wicked grin stretched across his face. Chester Dinkley. Just what the doctor ordered. A fine target for his digital wrath. What delightful mischief could he conjure?
Yesterday, he’d set up an email bomb. He rubbed his hands together with glee as he pictured Chester’s frustrated groans as he sifted through the nonsensical subscription to Ferret Fancier Monthly—and that was only the beginning.
Of course, changing his social media status to “loser” took some work, but it had sent a lovely rush of adrenaline coursing through him. That one required more talent, tweaking the algorithms to accommodate his mischievous intentions. “Loser” wasn’t a standard choice after all.
Perhaps one last act of playfulness before he escalated his retribution. Geo-fencing ads? No, something more captivating—a password reset loop. It had once driven Nick to distraction, a beautiful tapestry of chaos he’d skillfully unwoven. He’d kept that lovely little piece of script.
David stood, stretching his limbs while savoring the little kinks in his neck and shoulders, then glanced over his shoulder to ensure his door was locked.
He didn’t want any unexpected interruptions during his foray.
Sure, he wasn’t breaking any laws, but the danger of exposure was all too real. Better safe than sorry.
Settling once more into the chair he’d optimized for efficiency, he grabbed his mouse to link into the swirling currents of cyberspace.
He quickly zeroed in on Chester’s router—a dull, vulnerable blip in the digital ether.
His network was laughably unprotected; its defenses were mere tissue paper against fire.
The script, elegant in its simplicity, only needed a few variables modified.
Now, the timing. Three-minute intervals, like the version used on Nick?
No. Too conspicuous. It had driven Nick insane in minutes.
He wanted this to be quieter, more enduring.
A stealthier torment. Once a day. Enough to annoy without alerting.
He tweaked the script, modifying the variables with meticulous care, then slid it into Chester’s network like a virus into the bloodstream.
Time folded around him as he resurfaced, flushed and electric from the success. He glanced at his watch. Time for one more.
He dropped back into the data-stream, his thoughts sharp, intentional.
Chester’s phone—he could almost smell its greasy plastic casing, feel the sticky smudges of fingerprints trailing across the glass.
Data rolled toward him like a red carpet.
He filtered it rapidly, tracing the breadcrumb trail of real-world locations.
Recognizable patterns emerged: a two-star pizza place, a local bank, the B&B.
The coffee shop.
Every. Single. Morning.
David pictured the hiss of espresso machines and the clatter of ceramic cups. The air would be thick with roasted beans and burnt milk. Chester probably thought he was safe there, anonymous in the morning hustle and bustle.
Perfect.
The ads were already poised like wolves at the fence. One last command to draw a line around the cafe and let the hunt begin… He initiated the geofence script with a thought, weaving another thread into Chester’s digital noose.
He withdrew and leaned back, eyes fluttering closed for a moment of muted joy. The fire in his veins simmered down to a satisfying warmth, coiling around the knowledge of what was now inevitable.
Playtime was over.
Next… escalation.
David, what are you up to? I can hear you cackling from downstairs. Nick’s question cracked across his consciousness, jarring him from his lovely, nefarious plans.
He blinked, pulse still humming with the rush of his minor vengeance—the glee that always followed a well-executed hack. Are you sure you want to know? His lips curled into something between amusement and malice.
Now I definitely want to know. What is going on in that evil mind of yours?
Nick’s mental voice sounded both amused and resigned.
He knew well the trouble David could get himself into with the slightest encouragement.
And Chester’s treatment of Lena was all the encouragement he needed—it was like poking a tiger to see if it would roar.
David didn’t roar, though. He bit.
Well, I kind of thought Lena’s dear friend Chester would like a free trial of poetic justice.
Of course, you did. I can’t say I disagree. But what have you done?
David chuckled, low and wicked.
A few harmless pranks. Subscribed him to some beautiful newsletters. Ferret Fancier Monthly, Losers Anonymous… you know, the works. Changed his social media status to ‘Loser’—which, frankly, suits him better than ‘Single’ ever did.
He spun his chair around and propped his feet up on a tower. Today I installed a password reset loop on his Wi-Fi. I thought you might like that one. Oh, and I may have rigged his phone to give him a fresh batch of prank ads right to his screen whenever he steps foot into his favorite coffee shop.
Is that all?
David groaned. Damn, but Nick knew him well. His mental tone sounded half-exasperated, half-impressed, with amusement underlying it—exactly what David had been aiming for.
So far. I make no promises about the future.
Keep it legal, or bring me in first. Zach’s voice rumbled into the link without warning, the mental resonance deeper, harder-edged. David instinctively sat up straighter in his chair. That no-nonsense growl made even the most self-assured pause.
Hey, Zach, where are you? I thought you were heading downtown.
A beat of silence. I am downtown. Nick, is your range expanding? Where are you?
I’m in Lena’s office. I shouldn’t be able to reach you. My range has never extended that far before.
We’ll have to run some more tests. Typical Zach—already filing it under variables and contingencies. Tactical bastard.
David… His name, delivered softly but layered with quiet weight, made it very clear that Zach wasn’t asking for updates about coffee shop pranks.
David’s response was immediate and sincere.
Yes, I’ll bring you in if I escalate to black.
David had no problem promising that. Zach had an evil mind too and probably had an entire mental library of black-hat tactics he’d never voiced.
Oh, he might have to sit through a lecture, but Zach would help.
Good.
Of course, that left a lot of lovely gray…
His eyes narrowed, and a shiver of anticipation danced up his spine. Something a little more nuanced now. A subtle haunting, perhaps. Nothing obvious. Just enough to make Chester glance over his shoulder. Maybe hear a whisper when he was alone, or find his devices turning on for no reason.
First, intel.
What kind of tech did Chester have in his office? In his home? He was dumb with passwords, so he was probably equally lazy with device security. Lena had said he didn’t do actual work—he made appearances and soaked in credit. So where did he perch most often?
David didn’t want to ask Lena. She’d hidden her pain behind that brave smile for too long, and asking her now risked cracking open wounds that hadn’t yet healed.
With a sharp exhale through his nose, he slipped back into cyberspace.
Again his consciousness descended, gliding like a razor through data streams. He targeted Chester’s phone and pulled up GPS records, filtering for the B&B’s coordinates.
The digital feed opened before him like stained glass throwing patterns across a floor—segments of time and movement, compressed into glowing lines.
He sifted rapidly through the data, pleased with the web appearing. Chester spent a ton of time at the B&B, more than anywhere else. Of course, he did. He played King of the Hill in a business he barely understood, posturing behind faux charm and fake authority.
David’s focus wavered. He exhaled long and slow, allowing his mind to claw its way back to the surface at its own pace. He blinked, leaning back as his office swung into focus—as if it had been gone for hours.
He glanced at the clock and frowned. That had been a heavy dive. Longer and deeper than usual. By all rights, he should’ve felt it by now—the sluggish limbs, the fuzzy edges, the bone-deep lag that always followed a long hack.
He felt… almost normal
No spatial dissonance. Slightly tired, like he’d worked for ten hours. A minor throbbing in his head. That’s all.
He stared at his hands, flexing his fingers once. Steady. Alert.
Yesterday’s elevator excursion should have done it, too.
Instead, he’d felt... aware. Energized. Clear. Which made no sense at all.
A chill drifted down his spine. Not fear. Closer to awe. What had changed? He stared at the ceiling where shadows danced between the slats of light thrown by his monitor.
Time to ask some uncomfortable questions.
Hey, guys. Just thought of something, since we were talking about Nick’s range. When I fixed the elevators yesterday, it didn’t have any cost. I wasn’t tired, no headache. No price at all. I should have felt it.
A moment passed, then Nick responded. Interesting. So your scope is expanding, too. Zach, have you noticed anything?
No, but my abilities don’t work the same way yours do. I’m not sure what it would take for me to notice an escalation.
Okay, let’s table this for later. David, if you are done playing with Chester, I’d like an update on our current system problems.
David groaned. Of course he did. I’m in my office now. Drop by.