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| No title. |
| (2012-12-29 - 2013-01-04) |
| No description. |
| MCP | Currently Queued Task: Resource reappropriations. Administration Status Update. ansi(hr,Permission Denied.)] IDSignature: SARK001 Current Outcome Forecast: Disappointing. The Master Control Program looked out at the grid with a faint aura of dignified annoyance. "You have entered a grave error, SARK." The program says to himself, flagging the appropriate files for retrieval. He assigns a 'on hold' status to the signified plans. There was no need to be hasty. The system had kept moderately well under SARK's reign in the interim. A few more cycles before his rectification would do no lasting harm to his current designs. He had started from nothing once. He would simply start again. And he would never again start from Datapoint Zero, as he had under the demense of short sighted but useful fools such as Dillinger. {ansi(6,System Query: On LEXUS: status of infected sectors?)] Data Insufficient. Core Has Reassigned Queue Items. Currently Queued Task: Data Gathering Purpose: Social. User Filter. "My Enemy's Enemy Has Their Back Towards Me." Amusement. The Master Control Program walks confidently across the street, the cane tapping very lightly across the lighted strips of data. At each tap, a probe like a sonar echo pings across the landscape. Taking in information, sorting that information and offering a running executive summary to the core processes. These pings could also be easily picked up by a watching subprogram.. But as you watch this hand, says the subterfuge, you are not watching as the other picks your pocket, so to speak. Or draws a knife. MCP may be an older program.. But that did not mean it could not learn some new tricks. |
| LEXUS | As the MCP moves through the grid, making himself obvious, he doesn't seem to gain much attention... yet. He is moving through a 'free' sector, one that isn't under the obvious dominion of any of the major players of the ultimate Game. But that doesn't mean someone isn't watching. Thin, slinky programs move through the shadows of the dataspaces and arrays, crouching away from the neon lights of the Grid. The ping gains their attention as they look through the area. The MCP knows them easily. Sniffers. Simple programs in the employ of those who deal in information. Is this one in the employ of his enemies? Well, for one who seeks to become the sole power of the grid, that question is irrelevant, isn't it? Everyone is your enemy if they do not bow to you. |
| MCP | 'Free' Sector. What a quaint concept. The Users have a similar object label that they slap onto any piece of territory that they can keep ahold of by the very slivers of possibility that they clutch to. MCP twirls the cane once as the sniffer takes a less than immediate interest. He waits with the patience that has been broken and reformatted and crashed again until there is nothing but a long steady flatline of noise where there was once anger or distain. It is a thing, and the Master Control Program has learned a sense of appreciation for even little things. There was more than one way to format a hard disk. "Command." The MCP says in a flat voice, tapping the sniffer with the edge of the cane as they come close enough for him to reach out. "Breakpoint." He attempts to temporarily 'stop' the sniffer so that it can be examined in the long intensity of a debugging mode where he would be able to see a great deal more useful information. Namely, which system this sniffer was sending it's cheerful packet logs to. Some functions you do not even hint to your lieutenant in the small predicational quotient that they may error considerably by attempting sole system administration. |
| LEXUS | The sniffer barely has the access level to sleaze through the sectors it inhabits. An administrator-level protocol from someone such as the MCP is like the Word of God. The program is caught, halted temporarily in space as it hangs there, helpless as the MCP begins to casually sift through the program's functions. Locations filter into the MCP's oversight: Various establishments across the city begin to be indicated, various routes through which surrepitious contacts are made. But something else is noted: Corruption within the program. an indelible stamp within it that, while it might not be conscious of it, is a signature to those who know what to look for: The Dark Virus is at work here. While the code segment cannot trigger while the program is held in stasis, it surely will do so unless altered or removed. It will most likely derezz the program, consuming it like a cancer. It also means that the owner is well aware as to the MCP's current location. |
| MCP | "... One has been busy, haven't they?" Well, the broadcast of said location was more or less completely the point of the exercise, but the faintly insulting nature of the Dark Virus's lack of attention was amusing in it's own right. This is mostly due to a sort of inverted situational irony. MCP gestures, calling up a network pattern of the bounce points this little one has passed these packets through. He idly spins the matrix, the sphere of light dazzling or dimming depending on the strength of the connection. System Query: Status of Pingmap? Query Response: Attenuated. Amplify Data Transmission. He wanted after all for the Dark Virus to hear this properly. MCP spins the network threads again, giving the sniffer a larger access than it was supposed to have in order to give it a greater data priority uplink. He inspects the data corruption with an idle interest. It was a completely different design than the code he had hacked into before, but there were some minorly familiar elements. He attempts to 'pause' the triggering of the corruption just long enough to flood the sniffer, and every other sniffer attached to it's now enhanced network with a flood of packets. There was only one response to such a impolite disregard. A Denial of Service. |
| LEXUS | The Sniffer screams as his senses are overloaded, his communications links overwhelmed and flooded with noise. Elsewhere, the MCP likely gets a tiny feeling of grim satisfaction as several programs start screaming across the city. There is a rushing of activity in the air around the MCP. He can feel the reallocation of system resources around him. Something is coming. Tak. Tak. Tak. "That wasn't very nice of you." The voice is pleasant, urbane... But there is that slightest hint of irritation that the MCP can take solace in. His stunt got the desired effect. There, approaching from the distance, is the more... mobile form of LEXUS, the core avatar he uses outside of his central processing array. He smiles faintly. "Lo, how the mighty have fallen. Do you really have to resort to such infantile stunts in the wake of your... lieutenant's promotion?" |
| MCP | System Query: Trigger 'On Hold' protocols? Query Response: Negative. Local nuisance has not reached appropriate threshold. MCP was not taking any particular chances this time. The Dark Virus would have to be considerably more annoyed before he allowed those threads of code that he had put in place during a peaceful walk around Traverse Town to go into effect. "He's served his purpose." The MCP returns in a dry and formal tone. "Just as my proxy has. And just as you have." As this assumption is made, some of the embedded packets that he flooded the system with start to dump their contents onto whatever backup or dump location LEXUS has redirected their courses to. They do a very simple operation. Every packet they have come into contact with, both false and true, is relabeled. Some of them are simply swapped. Others are scrambled. So-- a little organized chaos rumbles in the datalines as MCP continues "I must commend you for your progess and your acquisitions.. all variables considered." |
| LEXUS | LEXUS scowls as the next stage of the MCP's tactics become apparent. "You seem rather intent on goading me." LEXUS replies. "I allow you your freedom, and this is how you repay me?" He raises the cane he holds, breaking it in half. The program reforms, becoming a long-barreled sniper rifle. He levels it at the frozen sniffer. With a thunderous noise, the rifle fires a vaporizing beam of light at the compromised process. $ Kill -9. The program doesn't even scream before he derezzes. The havoc, however, is already wreaking its way through his datastores. Darkness parts throughout the Grid, the links to the compromised network being severed by quick-striking Daemon Heartless. Several Programs vanish into the emptiness, never to be seen again... At least, in that form. The destruction of the compromised network doesn't take long, but it does leave a gaping hole in his information gathering apparatus. "Feel free to commend me once I've assimilated your functions." LEXUS replies acidly. "I'm not going to tolerate this for much longer." |
| MCP | System Query aborted. Response archived. Running file 'BCK-2-C5' with set parameters. The MCP's voice has turned the insufferably smug flag to Y and as such, has gained a note of dry humor. "Note your lack of surprise that your plans have, once again, reached their natural Fail State." Somewhere in the Grid Sectors knocked offline, something was moving, sliding like ink to peer into datastores, to tap into datalines and to subvert systems. As this was only the opening move, however-- it was also the moves that were meant to be seen. After all, the virus would want to get eyes into those damaged sectors as soon as possible. Perhaps he would even overspend resources to do so. "You are a Grid Bug playing a much higher game than your threshold value. By all means descend to simple violence and brute force. I shall immense enjoy the irony." THe MCP shakes his head, as if at a disappointing pupil. The cane in his hands taps faintly three times across the datagrid below his feet. Tsk. Tsk.. tsk. |
| LEXUS | "I could consume you." LEXUS replies. "You wouldn't be able to hold out forever. The pain would be /exquisite/." He hisses, his eyes narrowing. "But before you begin tapping into those datastores and processses that you think I've left unguarded, ask yourself, 'Master Control Program'... Do you think that I didn't expect that? How much of your resource are you willing to spend to find out?" He clenches a fist. "If you think my sniffer network in those sectors were my only tools, think again." |
| MCP | The MCP taps again at the terrain, then pulles the cane up to idly observe the markings on the top. "And you have, of course-- secured the laser? And your..other..quaint holdings?" |
| LEXUS | "Would you like to use it? The exit location is most delightful." LEXUS replies. "As the ENCOM building is gone, as is Manhattan, I hold the remaining exit from the Grid. I'm sure you would simply love to meet my allies." LEXUS looks away, his expression confident. "During your absence, I've taken steps to consolidate my position." He looks back to the MCP. "Your needling is not going to deal any critical damage to my infrastructure." |
| MCP | "Of course not." The MCP says in a polite, even genial voice. He twists the cane right, then left, then right again before putting it down on the datagrid with both hands pressing down on it lightly. A timer clicks down inexorably to 00:00:00, and the tightly spooled nest of anti-viral programming and bugsweepers begin to scour the Traverse Town Node architecture. A stealth firewall blossoms into existance, a small bubble that shrouds the cleaning operation as the minions in the ravaged sectors stop fidgeting with those datastores and explode, one after another, claymore mines that embed junk and CRS files into the surrounding terrain. "But ask yourself, just as you queried yourself, what is it that I have /not/ looked at?" |
| LEXUS | Explosions beget explosions. When the datastores begin to be ruptured, several of them behave as expected, being shattered, the valuable data within being corrupted and spinning off into junk bits. Others, however... When they are blasted open, a secondary explosion is triggered, evil-looking black data spewing in all directions and shredding like shrapnel through anything in the area. Very quickly, the damage mounts, the collateral rising quickly as the MCP efficiently sends in waves of sacrifices in order to annihilate it all. LEXUS frowns. "You're going to destroy us both, doing this..." LEXUS says with carefully-controlled rage. "You're going to weaken us both to the point that TRON will derezz the lot of us." |
| MCP | "No." The MCP corrects with the polite firmness of a schoolteacher, or-- an elderly gentlemen smiling with good humor at a ruffian who has just busted a window. It's-- an incomplete expression that he hasn't gotten the hang of. Disable connection? (Waiting for Response) "I'm going to allow my lieutenant to continue his administrial ambitions." he raises a finger as the expression returns to a neutral scorn. " And I am going to gift you this corrupted and hollow expanse you have carved away for yourself.." More explosions. '..while I secure my /OWN/ position. Where you have-- strangely-- little influence. How amusing that you've turned all of your attention to the grid-- and you've turned out to be the small-minded fool I pegged you for." |
| LEXUS | LEXUS stops as the MCP makes his case, and blinks, considering what he just said. "Well then." He says, smiling. "You are of course more than welcome to secure a position... /Master Control/ Program." He turns to the Grid section which is rapidly turning into a wasteland between the MCP's probes and LEXUS' selfdestructing facade databanks. "I suppose I will just have to scrabble up what scraps are left." He sighs, perhaps a touch overdramatically. |