Transmission 1 - 11-12-2145 1751
Hey so, I said I was going to do this back when I started on my journey and I never did, but... this time, I'm going to keep up. Really. Alright, So, today was my first-day l-
Oh, wait. Ugh, I'm so rude. This is my first transmission and we don't even know each other yet. I'm about to tell you all of my deepest thoughts and feelings and you don't even know my name. Sorry. Let's start over.
My name is Teanna. Teanna Black. I'm 19 years old about 5'6", brown eyes. Very cute. You know. You know. But *ahem* really. I'm doing this because my mom always told me to and I never did. She would always go on with "Teanna if you don't record your legacy, no one else will!" and I'm like, legacy? Please. I'm a failed trainer. I have no legacy.
But I'm a Black, and mom always said "Blacks are made for greatness." A part of me believed her. But... well, life is hard, you know? Anyways. I'm rambling.
What was I saying before? Oh, right... I got accepted into the Underground Attic! They are so, so cool. We all have to use code names and we can't even show our faces. We wear these cool digital masks that we can code into whatever designs we want and... I made mine look like angry Pigeot eyes. I know that's lame... but it's so cool!
They're really impressed with my coding and well... now I'm making a little bit of my own Gi! I still need to find a place to live. Stuck to the pods for now. Anyway, I have to shower and sleep. They kick us out of the rooms at like 10 A.M. Talk soon!
So, maybe bragging to Frenchie wasn't as satisfying as Trev thought it'd be. Instead of the awe-stricken praise he'd hoped to receive, she'd teased him for failing to actually acquire Renée's digits. Still, the way she subtly nibbled at her bottom lip told him that she was still impressed. Afterward, Kofi and Trev retired back to their apartment.
It was a tiny unit on the 37th level of the city in the Kanto Sector. Apartment B116. It wasn't one of the nicest places in the city, considering that most of Blue Light City's power plants and city grid generators were here, but it was living. The air in the area constantly reeked of heavy ozone mixed with military-grade disinfectant from the air recyclers. Ironic, considering their purpose was to cut down on toxic fumes.
Trev was pretty sure that stuff was still cutting their lifespans by 20 years or so, but why complain? No one listened to the cries and pleas of the lower levels. It was tough enough getting the cleansing systems installed in the first place. According to the powers that be, they were lucky to get getting even that.
Trev paid the taxi driver who thanked him for the generous tip, and stepped out of the commercial hovercraft onto the plastcrete walkway that led to his door. Finishing off the drink he'd taken with him from the cafe with a final slurp, he tossed the paper cup over the railing. It swirled in the downdraft, descending several stories before disappearing into the darkness below.
He took a moment to watch as vehicles criss-crossed back and forth and then glanced up where they did the same above him. After his most recent payout, he considered putting in for a unit a hundred or so levels higher. He imagined there, he wouldn't have to suck on nearly as many toxic fumes. Plus, he'd heard they had garage enclosures.
This would be the first time he'd actually be able to afford a car if he wanted to live dangerously. The smart move was to make a business plan before making any large purchases. He didn't want to be the idiot who came into good fortune just to blow it all in a few days.
Keying his door with his access card, he stepped into his tiny apartment. The panel lights around the inner doorway lit up as the rest of the apartment's electronics buzzed to life in response to his arrival. Trev's living space was a small box with no windows, nor much in the way of rooms. Aside from the bathroom and the kitchen, every other area occupied one another's space.
His kitchen was a tiled room that happened to have a sink, fridge, and stove, with hardly enough counter space to cook on. It would be a feat to fit two people in it at the same time. It was adjoined to his excuse for a living room, which wasn't much larger.
A two-seater leather couch and screen occupied that space along with a washer/dryer sat perpendicular to it. Above was a set of stairs that led directly to the open area that constituted his wall-less room identifiable only by the low set twin-sized bed with unmade sheets strewn across it.
Inside, Kofi flew up to his perch next to Trev's bed and started plucking colorful savory-scented kernels from the cylindrical dispenser. BBQ-flavored pellet seeds were a favorite of his. Trev opened the fridge to grab a carbonated soda and scaled the stairs, dropping his bag, and plopping down in his desk seat. At once, a trio of screens came to life, hovering as shimmering holograms above his desk. "Yo, Z!" Trev called as he popped the can open with a depressurizing hiss.
The drive bay of the small rectangular computer deck beneath the screens illuminated and grew in brilliance until, as if from a digitized manifestation, a smoothed-bodied creature appeared above the desk. It chattered in a series of hums and beeps.
Porygon-Z was the first Pokémon Trev had ever acquired aside from Kofi. However, unnlike the millions of trainers around the world who caught them in pokéballs, he won his in a competition. As much of a slacker as he was, that didn't make him incapable. Just... not conventional.
The reason Trev was able to spend so many hours wasting time with Frenchie during the day wasn't because he didn't work at all. It was because he worked at night. His work- his work- his real work, was blackmail. And he usually performed those duties at the latest hour, sitting right here at his desk.
"Watcha got for me, Z?" Again, the Porygon chirped in a series of digitized beeps and worbles. It was a polished creature of pink and blue, shaped vaguely like a bird with smooth contours. It was so flawless one my mistaken its skin for porcelain. If it remained perfectly still it might look like a fancy desk ornament.
Z turned towards the screen, and its beady black eyes flickered to an amber hue, indicating the access of data. One of Trev's holographic displays responded with a cascading list of names, which were quickly assorted and categorized into different file folders.
They were titled things like, "Corporate Heads," "Celebrities," "Business Associates," "Known Criminals," "Social Media" mutuals, and more. Essentially, it was a list of people ranging from those he'd met in various capacities and wanted basic information on, to potential targets that would net him a little spending cash.
No one knew about this part of his life. Not even Frenchie. The one person who had known… well… his mother had taught him everything. Rule number one, when it came to gathering info like this was anonymity. The second was security.
As quaint as his apartment appeared the casual observer (not that he ever had company to observe it), long ago, he and his mother had gone to work on the walls, lining their insides with protective conductive mesh material designed for blocking outside communication. They'd then install a directional data system designed to encrypt any traffic they sent out, effectively creating a physical firewall. Such a design was then protected by an actual firewall appliance that further inspected traffic. No one over the internet would be able to intercept his data unless he wanted them to.
Trev finger's hovered over the desk and a keyboard manifested as a set of hard light keys, and he got to work. On one screen he pulled up Twiddler, the world's favorite social media app, though he paid it no mind. He needed to check up on a lead he'd been following. He clicked through the list and found a folder called "Likely Trash" and scanned to another folder within that one named "Helix, Colress."
Colress was a scientist who'd been associated with a series of unsavory practices conducted in the engineering world, but he wasn't going after him for that. At least not right now. First, he was setting up the warning shot. Creating leverage.
As expected, Trev found the text messages Colress had sent from his phone throughout the day and had downloaded using malware Trev had gotten Colress to unwittingly install when he sent him a link that he thought had come from the woman he was suspected be cheating with. As smart as the scientist he was, he was all too eager to read anything sent from his mistress.
Since then, every night the program had uploaded the chat history to an encrypted remote file server that Porygon downloaded from. Trev had irrefutable evidence that Colress was cheating on his wife of 14 years. It was one thing to perform unsanctioned experiments. But to cheat your wife? Easy money. And once Colress learned that Trev knew this, he'd also be fearful of whatever else he knew… which was so much more.
Yes, in short, Trevor Black was a hacker.
Porygon-Z made his secret side hustle a no-brainer, considering its ability to carry payloads, encrypt servers, memorize and identify vulnerabilities, and a million other things in cyberspace that most hackers had to do by hand. This did not speak ill of Trev's own skill, however.
As told before, he'd won the Porygon-Z in an underground hacking competition with an organization called The Underground Attic that required him to access a custom-coded application on an unknown server in a race of time against other hackers. He did it in record time without leaving a digital footprint. Often, the grand prize at this stage was left unclaimed, but he'd managed to complete the task, and after rigorous cross-examination from judges and his competitors they were forced to concede his victory.
And so, on many occasions he stayed up late, usually going after low-hanging fruit like cheaters, extorting them for easy cash, and setting up larger jobs. He never made them pay too much. He reserved that for the real criminals. He set them up like he was doing Colress now. After stringing them along for a while, he'd agree to take payment in exchange for his silence... and then he tipped off the authorities anyway. Those scumbags didn't deserve to get off.
Despite the spy and stalker-like nature of his apocryphal business, he made a note not to dig up information on family and friends unless it was absolutely necessary to do so. Frenchie, for example, couldn't have been found on his computer in any capacity other than friendly photos and social media connections.
Hacking was the closest thing to being a telepath outside of those few who'd been known to have gained latent talents from extensive training with Pokemon that had those abilities. Choosing a target to hack was choosing a victim of whom you'd be uncovering their deepest, darkest secrets. It was a more egregious form of trespassing than walking into a stranger's house uninvited.
No matter what age one lived in, there was nothing more valuable than information, and this proved to only become truer with time. Trev knew that with his skills, he had to the potential to be one of the most powerful people in the world. Which was also why he reserved using them only for those who deserved it.
Glancing over to his second screen he pulled up his favorite dark web forum and browsed his usual tags- some discussing day-one vulnerabilities, others highlighting potential targets of interest. On his third screen, his eye caught the days biggest trending topic: "Giovanni."
However, when he moved to click it, his heart plummeted from chest to belly. For several moments he stared at the screen in trembling disbelief before finally gathering the courage to move his cursor to hover over the trending topic directly beneath "Giovanni."
It read, "Trevor Black."
He thought perhaps he'd been looking at the wrong thing for a moment. Perhaps the UI had been changed and he was looking at his profile name... or maybe there was a glitch that overlayed his personal computer's window over the name in just the right way. Something... anything. But there was no glitch, no mistaken visual conundrum.
He fished his phone from his bag and glanced at the illuminated screen. He forgot he'd left it on silent. He had a dozen missed calls. No one ever called him. Trembling, he nearly dropped it before setting it down. His heart thundered in his chest as he took several deep breaths trying to get a grip on his frantic nerves
Looking back at the screen, where the pointer hovered over his name, he stared at it for several moments before finally gathering the balls to click it. At that instant, all of his fears were realized. The first post with over 3 million views and re-fiddles had a link to an article by xIO_Nox that read:
"Trevor Black Proven Responsible for Putting Rocket Crime Boss Giovanni Behind Bars."