Proxy

I woke to the metallic taste of blood trickling from my nose, which was not a great way to start out the day.

After carefully wiping it away, I sat up and took stock of my surroundings, which were—as usual—a neon pink nightmare. My room was a riot of color and glitter, with LED lights illuminating every surface and blinking on and off in dizzying patterns that made my head hurt. My stomach growled as I got to her feet and shuffled toward the door.

"Good morning," said a voice from the doorway, which made me jump so hard I nearly fell over. I whirled around to see who'd snuck up on me, and found myself face-to-face with what looked like a man wearing some sort of LED mask.

He walks into the room, a smirk on his LED face. He holds his arm out to offer me a hand. "What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"

I arch my eyebrow and he gives me a look that says I'm being rude. I get it—I should be flattered. I've been dealing with men like him my whole life. They want to know why I'm in a tiny little studio apartment, why I'm not in a two-story home baking cookies in my skirted apron with two little ones running around my legs.

As if I'd ever wear an apron.

"No," I say.

He looks at me again, confused, and then laughs like I just said something hilarious. "No?" he asks, still laughing.

"Not a girl," I answer, hoping he'll get the hint.

"Oh," he says, with an even wider smirk lighting up his face as he reaches up to stroke his metal chin, "I see." He seemed to be lost in his thoughts before extending his hand once again, this time with a wad of papers —and said "I have a job for you."

I thought about that for a moment. Wasn't this how I'd gotten into trouble last time? But the money had been too good to pass up then… so I decided to go for it again.

This time, though, I was going to finish the job.

The light from the neon signs above my bed reflects off the glitter on my eyelids, making the room glow with a pink hue so bright I can almost feel it. Almost.

I can't feel much of anything anymore, since my latest mission landed me in a hospital bed.

Maybe I should've considered that before I pulled off one of the biggest hacks in history. I mean, Archtech is basically an impossible target—but then again, so was The Grid before I cracked it wide open.

I got cocky. Figured that because they couldn't trace me back to The Grid hack, they couldn't touch me… and then they did.

It's not like I'm an idiot. I mean, I am, but it's not like that's the only reason I got caught. I thought I was untraceable. The Grid had a billion accounts. It should've been impossible for them to find me in the midst of those users—but somehow, they did it. Maybe it was my own hubris that led to me getting caught, or maybe there’s some super-sleuth somewhere who can smell my digital footprints from a mile away.

Either way, now this is my new reality. My life is basically on pause while I recover from… well, let’s just call it injuries as a workaround for embarrassment (I’d rather keep the details private). And while part of me is grateful to be alive at all—I survived a physical attack!—the other part of me is itching to get back to work. So when someone came along and offers me a chance to get out of here… well, let’s just say that I’m all in!

As usual, there's someone in this godforsaken town who's willing to make a deal with me—and let's be real: at this point, I'd take any deal to get out of here. All right Artech, you want to keep your data safe?

Challenge accepted.

coding by purring