Even in the virtual world there were opportunities to be had, albeit far riskier since the introduction of the Servic virus. Nobody knew if their online home had the virus but they all hoped they'd be selected for it, temperamental as it may be it protected its chosen roost fiercely. Cybers, paranoid as they were, treated it like some kind of trickster god - feared, admired and given offerings of Bitcoins in the hopes that it wouldn't turn against you.
The stories of the Servic virus left a bitter taste in Moe's mouth, far more than any vape ever had. Still, if it was a choice between committing theft in person or controlling his avatar to do so online, he'd take a trip through the V-Rift every time. There were just so many people who had little to no protection on their assets and so many more who would pay millions for those assets, no questions asked.
Just how Moe liked it.
His current client sent their own head of security into the V-Rift with him rather than say exactly what assets they were looking for. Not the first time that had happened but this guy had never been on a recovery job before, had no idea how to pick the back locks of virtual homes, let alone the signs that Servic was active in the area.
Moe generally cancelled if there was even the slightest hint that the Servic virus was anywhere in the region he was operating in - no matter the job. This time though, the client specified that it had to happen at this time, date and place or would never happen and Moe would find himself in prison before you could say Gigabyte.
So even though the colour palette was practically greyscale (a sign that Servic wasn't just in the region, it was close enough to alter his V-Rifts perceptors) and even though the houses were warping all along the slightly-too-perfect street, the client's security dog gave him no other option but to begin the break-in.
He prayed that their avatar-covers wouldn't trigger any kind of Servic response as he ran his password worm through the back door's locks, praying harder that the owner was as un-savvy as the client had claimed. Sure enough, with a soft click, the door unlocked revealing a 60's styled interior, all in blue-tinged greyscale.
Servic was closer than he thought.
He'd run the rules of virtual-interaction by the security dog several dozen times, made him repeat them until the man threatened to punch him. It didn't mean he wouldn't break the rules but Moe had covered them so many times there was no way he could claim ignorance.
Even as they were trespassing Moe found himself whispering the rules under his breath almost like a chant, toneless and desperately hoping that it would keep him safe from Servic. Anything was better than meeting it when you're so clearly in the wrong.
- Don't open the windows, interaction between the interior and exterior causes glitches and draws attention.
- If the colour fades, you run away. Servic's main side affect is colour loss, followed by life loss for threats.
- It always uses the front door so you never do. If the front door is open then you're already dead.
- Delete your history after every visit, touch nothing unnecessarily and leave no trace.
So the moment they entered the living room, security dog opened a window. Moe ran into the other room and hid under a desk as security dog called back that he could see someone flying down the road. This was the closest Moe would get to a description of Servic, just before it tore through security dog's avatar, sending the usual deathly high voltage straight through from the V-Rift to the headset he was strapped into.
He'd be fried before he could even consider logging off.
Now a simple asset-hunt had turned into a game of man-hunt. In reality Moe's hands were frantically tapping at his keys, trying to log out and do a wipe before it was too late. He didn't realise the pad was unplugged until Servic had opened the door and was crouched in front of him.
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