Laylah (laylah) wrote in kinkfest, @ 2008-03-01 11:01:00 |
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Entry tags: | a: laylah, f: transformers, march 01, p: barricade/ironhide |
"Security," Transformers (Ironhide, Barricade)
Title: Security
Author: Laylah
Rating: PG
Warnings: considerably more Prowl than the prompt called for ^^;
Word count: 700
Prompt: Transformers - Ironhide, Barricade - cyberpunk AU - a glitch in the system
There's a crackle of static when Ironhide first plugs in. That's no good. If his jack is coming free of his skull again, he'll have to head back into the mod parlor, and they have to be running out of good bone to graft to. Even if it just needs time to reset, time's not really something he has. None of them can afford to let their guard down too long.
Already today, from the press release, it sounds like Decepticorp is making a new move on what's left of the free net. Enhanced security. Like hell. Ironhide knows security, and he knows brutality, and he can tell the glitching difference.
Welcome back, Prowl says, when Ironhide logs into the current Autonomy node. You heard the news?
Yeah. Sometimes Ironhide wonders if Prowl is flesh-based like him, or an actual net-only life form -- AI, they called it back when he was a young hotshot programmer, but now kids like Bumblebee take him to task for it, cause there's supposed to be something offensive about calling someone "artificial." But every time Ironhide signs in, Prowl is already there. If he's humanoid, he sleeps at some damn weird hours.
You intend to make a preliminary excursion? Prowl asks. There's his speech pattern, too. Who talks like that?
Want to figure out what they really got out there, Ironhide says. Won't know how bad it really is until we see it in action.
Prowl transmits an affirmative. Remain cautious, he says. Should I accompany you, or monitor remotely?
Ironhide shakes his head, and gets a little static again. Real physical reactions are a bad habit he should have kicked long ago, but the net wasn't this immersive when he first started running. Wait here, he says. Let the others know what happened if anything goes wrong.
He dives, out of the safety of their node and into the wide open grid of the net itself. This is better than it used to be when he was a kid, too -- okay, he knows this is just a set of signals being passed to his brain, but the sensation of movement is really vivid, really real, enough that sometimes when he makes a sharp turn, drops off the commercial entertainment grid and into the less user-friendly districts that support it, he gets vertigo. It's some good goddamn programming, is what it is.
Just playing nice with the interface doesn't do anything to keep the net free, though. Not with the way Decepticorp has everything sealed up. So Ironhide finds himself a good target, a little communication node that routs -- he doesn't even know what, probably teenagers' chat logs or something -- and loads up his cannons.
Jazz was the first one who called them that. You write code like glitching artillery, man. No subtlety at all.
And it's true, but hell, it gets the job done. No half-assed communications security software keeps him out. Ironhide drills his way through the pathetic little firewall this thing's got, and starts setting up an ID that'll let him move around undetected. All he needs is a little mask --
And something appears out of the black empty grid, not even something he can really see straight on, more like a heat shimmer, a sense of something sleek and powerful and totally unnatural.
$&Ylklgh#*YW#F*#(^nlyr
and then Ironhide's in pain, his nerves overloading and locking up and it's conscious, watching him, Decepticorp security this presence that he can feel and when it
$*&%^nKnjR(^&nLnjsghk$g($)S$W(^
he can't glitching move, can't disconnect, stuck for an override and he hopes Prowl's watching, hopes Prowl is on top of this, and man, Prowl has to be human, compared to this
n%&GN^eryt$&%#nWsty^$W--
the whole net shorts out on him, ugliest hard shutdown he's had in years. His ears are ringing and he feels like all of his implants are trying to reject at the same time. He pulls his jack free, and there's a message blinking on his monitor.
Send confirmation if you are safe.
Ironhide sniffs, presses his fingers to his face. His nose is bleeding. He looks at the button under Prowl's message. Reply?
In a minute, maybe. Once he's got his head together.