2007-11-19: Be Sure



Guest Starring:


Summary: Gene investigates the company that a man who was caught trying to install surveillance equipment at Enlightenment Books works for (Compusure) and gets a surprise.

Date It Happened: November 19th, 2007

Be Sure

Gene's Lab

New York

The room is large and metallic, appearing to be the size roughly of a football field. The cold metallic steel is stainless and clean, though there are dents and scratches of various sizes to prevent a perfect and shiny paradise. At one end of the room, there is the entrance to the lab. While there is a small sliding door, it's placed within a massive vault door. Clearly the little door is used for people, but what would a simple electronics company need to move that be around twenty-five feet tall and/or wide? The thick security doors have a pair of turrets near them, lodged in the twenty foot ceiling roughly ten feet from the door. They aren't pointed currently at the door, but seem ready to do so in a moment's notice. Perfect for unannounced guests, though it's unsure if if they fire bullets, stinging foam, or nerf darts. Likely not the nerf, but then again, it's unlikely his work will give him live ammo… Governments tend to not approve those, no matter your pay grade.

Directly to the left is a large thirty foot by thirty-by-thirty foot grooved rubber mat, which is blocked off by the door by a thick shatterproof and perhaps bulletproof glass all that extends the length of the mat. There is no door around the corner, leaving the exposed side free for people or things to come in and out. Various current projects reside on the mat in various stages of construction or deconstruction. While the parts are often placed about seemingly randomly, a wheeled tray with gas canisters and batteries is near by. The wielding tools, the power tools, as well as the safety gear such as goggles and gloves, are almost always put away careful in their proper place, likely to ensure he can always find them and there are no accidents.

In the back left of the room, there is another black mat that is fifty feet by fifty, usually with a car or unmanned aerial craft of sorts on it. In the back left of the room, simple cubical walls mark out a 'room' of sorts where a simple twin-sized bed with silk sheets resides along with a large plasma screen TV and a wall lined with video games and DVDs. For someone going into the room they will notice something under a black tarp at almost all times. A small kitchenette to the front right provides the room with a fridge, a sink, and a microwave (but no stove), allowing someone to make the basic geek foods of Noodles in a Cup and Easy Mac.

Finally in the center of the room is a large desk, with a trio of large desktop computers on it. Three computer monitors are side by side, usually with a variety of information on them, even if there is no one around. A couple of wireless keyboards, a mouse, and a couple of unique control boards litter the desk, in a small mound along with print readouts, books, and a various knick-knacks of various sorts.

"o/~ It's my party and I can cry if I want to, cry if I want to, cry if I want to. You would cry too if it happened to you! o/~"

With his eternal companion, the non-living R2-D2 around, Gene is situated in front of a computer appearing rather pale. "Why the hell am I doing this? Seriously, I'm ready to puke from who knows the hell is wrong with me. I'm stuck with the possibility of random doctors learning that I have abilities that make me both invaluable yet a sitting duck for all the people my guidance counselor told me didn't exist yet they REALLY DO or a slow painful death by the very thing that makes me special. But I'm not even doing anything about that, because Captain 'I Was Getting Busy With The Girl That Was All About Curing You' wants me to find information for him."

The droid looks blankly to Gene, perhaps not reacting or just not given to verbal cue to do so.

"This is messed up, Artoo. I shouldn't be doing this, but I am because I don't have the balls to call my own shots. Does that make me a wuss or just a loyal friend?"

"Bweeeeooooooo. QURRRP QURRRP"

"Screw you. I'll get a girlfriend when I feel like it. That has nothing to do with this. Now… Let me see what we can find out about our friend, Danny Boy." Deciding to put off his monologue on hold (Or is it conversation?), Gene brings up the info. "Born in Queens, computer guy for Compusure Hobbies include UFC and raising pythons. HAHA, Artoo, I wonder why he is still looking for a girlfriend, too. Computer guy watching fight shows and raising pythons. He must have a really small… Um, flashdrive."

"Beeewwwoooooo *chirpchrip*?"

"It's gunna lewd for you to ask me such personal questions. Don't keep turning this conversation about me, we have work to do. Now, let's see if we can get anything from the actual work website." Over the sound of typing, Gene begins his half-prayer, half-beg. "Come on… You KNOW there has to be a web login for work e-mail. You know you want to."


The website is no-frills, just offering up the basic information and a limited number of options for visitors to interact with. It deals in computer repair and sales, and there's a small mention of software innovation as well. At the bottom…

Contact Us
By e-mail: ten.erusupmoc|eruseb#ten.erusupmoc|eruseb
By phone: 1-800-333-SURE 8AM - 5PM EST MON-FRI
Or at one of our locations…
New York * New Jersey * Oregon * Texas * California

Underneath, there's a small link:

Employee Login

"AIIIIIIE! BACK BACK TO THE BOWELS OF HELL EARLY NINETIES STYLE LOGO!" Gene announces, pausing his hacking efforts to a swift cross with his fingers. Having protected himself from the antiquated design, the computer wizard begins his work. Opening up a few windows, Gene begins to open a few programs. Should the design seem to suggest a certain style of software, he will bring up the proper tools. He already has a window open to show his 'armory' of hacking tools and de-programming devices. While it's a rare that he gets to use his skill for anything BUT the virtual, Gene is THE master of reverse engineering. As long as he can get the proper information, he should be able to figure out the hole in the Employee Login in. Figuring a computer company would have decent security, he doesn't try programs that run random passwords to get in, but rather a back way in. He's learned from his mistake in the hospital, it would seem, working to make sure the password cracking software is topnotch.

For someone like Gene, with his skills, know-how, and savvy (…with technology), it's easy enough to get into Compusure's e-mail server. They have some serious security, as he expected, but even so, tada! Soon, the computer genius is looking at the inbox of one Danny Ferrera. There's about a month or so worth of messages, the rest having been cleaned up. Most of them are exactly what you'd expect. Manners of business, shipping orders for harddrives and sundry odds and ends, a few replies from customers Ferrera had helped. It's about as exciting as watching paint dry, without the fumes to make you loopy and thus at least slightly entertained. But a few messages… stand out.

Date: 10/20/07
To: Ferrera, Danny (moc.erusupmoc|arerrefd#moc.erusupmoc|arerrefd)
From: Hannigan, Chris (moc.erusupmoc|naginnahc#moc.erusupmoc|naginnahc)
Subject: EB

The store is a hotspot. No doubt about it. Received confirmation to take the next step.

Their existence is a sin against god. Its not long now, bro.

Furious typing goes on as Gene attempts to KO the automated defenses. Finally, he unleashes the final virtual strike and he is in as Mr. Ferrera. "Oh yeah, I got in?! I got into a computer business's website! It's like stealing from thieves." Gene lowers the arms that had previously been raised up on high as he gives a slightly defeated sigh. "…And I've committed yet another federal offensive. Hope Eric and Petrelli have some nice lawyers, one of these days, I might need 'em."

That said, Gene begins the long task of finding e-mails. He takes the information from each one of them, figuring that there might be a secret code in them. After all, if they are Company or people like them, he might have to summon even more genius to figure out their plans. Thankfully for him, he doesn't need to as he comes to a certain message to 'channigan'. "You've got to be kidding me." He hopes this is some sort of sick joke, but he knows he has to make sure. He leans over as he continues to scan through the thank you e-mails as well as the regular conversations for the information that may save or damn lives.

Date: 10/20/07
To: Ferrera, Danny (moc.erusupmoc|arerrefd#moc.erusupmoc|arerrefd)
From: ten.w-r|rekcart#ten.w-r|rekcart
Subject: Order #346542-3

Order has been shipped. Package contains camera and surveillance equipment as approved. Receive at NJ location.


Date: 11/14/07
To: Ferrera, Danny (moc.erusupmoc|arerrefd#moc.erusupmoc|arerrefd)
From: Hannigan, Chris (moc.erusupmoc|naginnahc#moc.erusupmoc|naginnahc)
Subject: Ads

Did you finish the flyers?? We have to move on this.

Incoming message!

The e-mail's built-in IM system pops up.

(moc.erusupmoc|naginnahc#moc.erusupmoc|naginnahc): Danny?

A possible lead, that's for sure. While there seems to be few people involved with this (Gene only able to get Chris and Danny for the time being), this r-w.net seems to be only possible link. More so when it becomes clear that Chris is at his machine. Gene pops out of his chair as the IM appears. He stares at it in dread for a moment before he prepares himself for what he knows he should do. Closing that window and this session can stop possible information. Best to get what he can. Checking the e-mail for any messages sent or received from Danny, Gene also opens another window to see about getting info on the r-w.net. After looking at the IM for a few more seconds, Gene takes a breath and begins to type. Don't be Gene, be Prometheus.

(moc.erusupmoc|arerrefd#moc.erusupmoc|arerrefd): What's up, Chris?

After sending the IM, Gene tries the final thread of possible Internet spy-ness. If he can find an IM log of Chris and Danny speaking, he can get their conversation style and maybe some more information. If not, he figures he won't be long before the ruse is up. Gene doesn't offer any monologue now, too busy in his efforts to worry about banter or consoling himself.

r-w.net is the website of a company that calls itself REDWOOD. A bold logo of a tall tree with many reaching branches and roots is prominent. It's a technologies firm, dealing in new research and independent studies on the cutting edge of innovation and design. They're hiring, the website says — a website which is certainly several levels up from Compusure's. Lo and behold, however, Compusure gets credit for its design, at the bottom of the front page.

Meanwhile, a message pops up from Chris in the other window.

(moc.erusupmoc|naginnahc#moc.erusupmoc|naginnahc): Dec 3rd, another pkg. I'm working days, do you want to go to pick up?

Biting his lower lip, the Geek God glances over the design and what he sees. Chris is ignored for a short time, but considering the world of IMs, he likely won't think something is amiss. The possibility of hacking into Redwood seems possible, but it would likely be hard to get into. More so without any knowledge. If he could get information from the company, that would be awesome. But how could Gene do that? Gene is midway through planning a trip to check out their now hiring to see… A message. December? Hrm.

(moc.erusupmoc|arerrefd#moc.erusupmoc|arerrefd): Consider it done.

Gene figures that getting out undetected is better than pumping Chris for information. After all, if he suspects something, no telling what could happen. A few seconds later, Gene begins typing anew.

(moc.erusupmoc|arerrefd#moc.erusupmoc|arerrefd): I've got to go out for a bit and get a few things.
(moc.erusupmoc|arerrefd#moc.erusupmoc|arerrefd): Anything else I need to know before I head out?
(moc.erusupmoc|naginnahc#moc.erusupmoc|naginnahc): same location as last time. The new goods tap into surveillance feeds its pretty sweet. Pick-up is 4 PM.
(moc.erusupmoc|arerrefd#moc.erusupmoc|arerrefd): Right. I'll be there to get it. BBL.

With that, Gene disconnects and logs out of the system after pulling out everything he can. Once he is out and has covered his tracks as best he can, Gene takes a deep breath and just leans forward on his desk. Elbows rest on either side of his keyboard, most of his face blocked by interlocking fingers. Blue eyes stare at the computer screen, the Redwood logo displayed in one window right by the logo of Compusure in another window. Minutes soon pass and only after half an hour does Gene finally pull away to lean back into chair. "Lab computer… lights."

The bright lights turn on around Gene, letting his lab become visable. Moving his attention to his creation Arnie, he glances to it, then to his cell phone. "Try and hack into MY system? You don't even know who you're dealing with… But I suppose that makes us even. But they won't be able to hide for long, will it, Artoo?" With that, a twitch a smirk appears on Gene's features. He might be dying, but that doesn't mean the Geek God is weakening… It just means he has less to lose.

"I bet no one can hide from you!" Well, that's… certainly not one of Gene's creations. No, it sounds mysteriously like the voice of a child, chipper and awe-filled. Standing behind the young genius is a short little girl who looks no older than twelve, no younger than ten. She has long, mousy brown hair and a roundish face, pale skin with cheeks dappered by rose as if she's just come in from the cold, and she's wearing a cutesy denim dress with colourful embroidered flowers, a too-large yellow cardigan, and rainbow striped stockings. "This place is so neat!"

"W.T.H.! B.B.Q?!"

Yes, Gene actually shouted that out. Honestly scared and surprised to hear a voice that has come from beyond the security without setting a single thing off. Standing up from his chair and reflexively grabbing for R2-D2's remote, he has gotten his first intruder. While honestly concerned about danger, he realizes that he has no alarm for other people. He could set off the silent alarm for the company, but that would bring Eric… Along with the police. And calling him and the police in on a little girl just seems sad, even for a guy like Gene.

"Um, I'm guessing you either are an Evolved girl that teleports, an Evolved that has freakish mind or computer powers or a result of me hacking too late at night while watching cartoon re-runs of Punky Brewster," Gene offers with a somewhat concerned tone, his butt firmly pressed on his desk as if trying to back up as much as he can.

"What?" The little girl wrinkles her nose, and — c'mon, she's adorable! — looks completely lost at every single thing Gene just blurted out at her. She tromps over to the computer, peering at the screen; the glare shines on her face, the reflection of the tree logo in her big blue eyes. "You were playing spy, huh? Wow, this place looks right up your alley! What does a tree have to do with computers anyway?"

With the carefree, whimsical air of a child, she hops up on the chair Gene was inhabiting while he infiltrated websites, and reaches out for the mouse. There's an awkwardness to the way her hand clamps over it, like she's not used to using a device like that. She clicks at random and swings her feet back and forth — they're clad in winter boots with poofy white tassels. "You're not done already, are you? Silly Gene!" She twirls around in the chair, leaving the page on the computer monitor open to Redwood's PARTNERSHIPS page.



The girl giggles. "Don't you know you have a lot of work to do?"

To Be Continued…

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