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burntcopperTitle : Virus Protection
Author : Gunbunny
E-Mail : kabukivice@beeb.net
Fandom : Ultraviolet/DC
Pairing : none mentioned
Rating : No sex and no swearing. Am slipping.
Summary : Why you should keep your firewall up.
Disclaimer : Not mine. I don't mainline nearly enough crack.
Feedback : I accept burnt offerings and alcohol.
Archive : http://kabukivice.com/fic , anywhere else feel free.
Mike walks into the office in a vaguely decent mood for a change. He can't quite figure out why, since yesterday was fucking crappy and he can't see today being any better. On spotting a familiar blonde head, he says. "Angie, is there any chance of my computer being fixed in the next millenium?"
Angie looks up from her notes. "There's someone on it now."
"Literally now." Mike says sceptically.
"Yes, I said so. He's over by your desk doing strange things to its guts." She says. "Was there anything else?"
"Not unless the coffee machine's started making decent coffee unlike the normal sludge."
"We're not miracle workers, Mike. You'll have to continue to rely on Costa to get your caffeine fix." She says mildly, grinning. "Go and find your computer."
"I'm going, I'm going." Mike says, raising his Costa-bought coffee in acknowledgement and sipping from it as he walks in the direction of his desk.
When he reaches it, there's a kid sitting in his chair, tapping at his keyboard. He's met the kid before, when he was installing something on Angie's computer - new memory or something, he wasn't really paying attention. Tim Drake, one of the resident tech boys. Job : fixing the computers, keeping up the firewall and hacking any businesses controlled by Code Vs for information. Mostly pulled in after being bitten or getting too close. Tim was one of the odd ones, since he'd known all about Code Vs and the agency and just turned up on the doorstep when he got bit, requesting treatment. The agency blinked a little and then decided letting him go was far too dangerous since he knew too much.
"You fixed it yet?" He asks, stopping by his chair.
Tim rolls back, adjusting his headset. "Considering what's been done to it, you're lucky I'm able to get a response from it." He fixes Mike with a glare. "The sheer amount of viruses on this thing - have you heard of a firewall? Or considering we have them on this system, using it? God, Code Vs are up to spec - I know they are, I've been studying their systems - and do you really want me to tell people they could've had a backdoor into this place the whole time through your computer? Didn't you get that memo I sent out about it?"
Mike shrugs, sipping more coffee. "Not like I'm doing anything but sending the occasional email. I have spamfilters."
"My business is the health of this agency's system. You're endangering it." Tim retorts, pointing at the nearby chair. "Sit. I shall lecture you and use you to figure out what's important that I need to recover from your strange and confused harddrive." Tim makes disapproving noises again as he clicks his mouse button. "Tell me you backed this up before it crashed." Mike winces and looks guilty as he sits. "I thought so."
---
The next day, Mike looks up from checking his email to see Tim walking into the office. Naturally, he goes on the defensive in the face of the possibility of another lecture. "My virus protection is up-to-date, so what're you doing here?"
Tim shrugs. "Relax. Well, don't. There's a case they need me for, and I think you'll be pulled in since you're the resident detective."
Mike lifts an eyebrow, pushing himself back from his desk. "What're you doing on it, then? Thought you were tech, not field."
"The minute you can tell me that you know how to get into a complex computer system and get through a lock that requires hacking with tech is the day I can retire to Barbados." Tim retorts.
"And they're sending tech boy against vamps. You won't last five seconds."
Tim shrugs again. "I can take care of myself."
"Believe that when I see it." Mike replies, putting his hands behind his head and leaning back in his chair.
----
At the hypothetical scene of the crime, Mike tilts his head so he can see out of the window. "It's still bloody raining. What're we due in for, another flood?"
"We're in London. Not that many floods here." Tim replies, tapping the keys of the laptop he's brought along and plugged into the wall. Turns out he's scarily efficient on field work.
"Still get bloody great puddles across the road." Mike gripes. "You done with that?"
"Almost..." He taps a few more keys, then straightens. "I suggest pointing your gun at the door."
"Someone coming?" Mike asks. "What, you've got psychic powers now to go with the tech-boy ones?"
Tim makes a 'save me from these idiots' noise. It's almost as good as Mike's. "There's motion sensors in their security system along with the cameras and heat sensors. It's standard installation in Code V buildings these days." He explains as though talking to a child, eyes still fixed on the screen. "Now would be a good time to pull out your gun."
Two seconds later and someone comes through the door. Mike brings his gun up, sights in place. No image, so he aims and the intruder's a small explosion. Don't know if they'll be able to send in the clean-up crew for this one's place in the high-tech prison, since this was supposed to be a quick in and out job. Info, not Vaughan's specialised scary bastards in kevlar. Not advertising their presence is a good one. Tim takes a deep breath and unplugs his laptop, stuffing it in the backpack. "Right. You done?"
"Yeah." Tim replies. "Now can we get out of here?"
"Patience, grasshopper." Mike replies. Tim repeats his 'save me from the idiots' noise, this time adding an eyeroll for good measure. They sneak out by a side door, listening for security guards as they go. Operating as a business means you need security guards that can cope with daylight. Fortunately the one they do almost run into is a dopey git who can't be arsed to do his rounds properly, as he doesn't bother looking round corners.
Once outside, Mike scowls at the weather and hunches further into his jacket to avoid the rain as much as possible. "Ten to one this doesn't let up by morning."
"The universe is out to get you." Tim sympathises cheerfully. "I suggest going back, putting this stuff we've learnt into the system and then going to the pub."
Mike pulls out his fags and puts one in his mouth, cupping his hand around the end as he lights it to shield it from the rain. "You're buying the first round."
END
Author : Gunbunny
E-Mail : kabukivice@beeb.net
Fandom : Ultraviolet/DC
Pairing : none mentioned
Rating : No sex and no swearing. Am slipping.
Summary : Why you should keep your firewall up.
Disclaimer : Not mine. I don't mainline nearly enough crack.
Feedback : I accept burnt offerings and alcohol.
Archive : http://kabukivice.com/fic , anywhere else feel free.
Mike walks into the office in a vaguely decent mood for a change. He can't quite figure out why, since yesterday was fucking crappy and he can't see today being any better. On spotting a familiar blonde head, he says. "Angie, is there any chance of my computer being fixed in the next millenium?"
Angie looks up from her notes. "There's someone on it now."
"Literally now." Mike says sceptically.
"Yes, I said so. He's over by your desk doing strange things to its guts." She says. "Was there anything else?"
"Not unless the coffee machine's started making decent coffee unlike the normal sludge."
"We're not miracle workers, Mike. You'll have to continue to rely on Costa to get your caffeine fix." She says mildly, grinning. "Go and find your computer."
"I'm going, I'm going." Mike says, raising his Costa-bought coffee in acknowledgement and sipping from it as he walks in the direction of his desk.
When he reaches it, there's a kid sitting in his chair, tapping at his keyboard. He's met the kid before, when he was installing something on Angie's computer - new memory or something, he wasn't really paying attention. Tim Drake, one of the resident tech boys. Job : fixing the computers, keeping up the firewall and hacking any businesses controlled by Code Vs for information. Mostly pulled in after being bitten or getting too close. Tim was one of the odd ones, since he'd known all about Code Vs and the agency and just turned up on the doorstep when he got bit, requesting treatment. The agency blinked a little and then decided letting him go was far too dangerous since he knew too much.
"You fixed it yet?" He asks, stopping by his chair.
Tim rolls back, adjusting his headset. "Considering what's been done to it, you're lucky I'm able to get a response from it." He fixes Mike with a glare. "The sheer amount of viruses on this thing - have you heard of a firewall? Or considering we have them on this system, using it? God, Code Vs are up to spec - I know they are, I've been studying their systems - and do you really want me to tell people they could've had a backdoor into this place the whole time through your computer? Didn't you get that memo I sent out about it?"
Mike shrugs, sipping more coffee. "Not like I'm doing anything but sending the occasional email. I have spamfilters."
"My business is the health of this agency's system. You're endangering it." Tim retorts, pointing at the nearby chair. "Sit. I shall lecture you and use you to figure out what's important that I need to recover from your strange and confused harddrive." Tim makes disapproving noises again as he clicks his mouse button. "Tell me you backed this up before it crashed." Mike winces and looks guilty as he sits. "I thought so."
---
The next day, Mike looks up from checking his email to see Tim walking into the office. Naturally, he goes on the defensive in the face of the possibility of another lecture. "My virus protection is up-to-date, so what're you doing here?"
Tim shrugs. "Relax. Well, don't. There's a case they need me for, and I think you'll be pulled in since you're the resident detective."
Mike lifts an eyebrow, pushing himself back from his desk. "What're you doing on it, then? Thought you were tech, not field."
"The minute you can tell me that you know how to get into a complex computer system and get through a lock that requires hacking with tech is the day I can retire to Barbados." Tim retorts.
"And they're sending tech boy against vamps. You won't last five seconds."
Tim shrugs again. "I can take care of myself."
"Believe that when I see it." Mike replies, putting his hands behind his head and leaning back in his chair.
----
At the hypothetical scene of the crime, Mike tilts his head so he can see out of the window. "It's still bloody raining. What're we due in for, another flood?"
"We're in London. Not that many floods here." Tim replies, tapping the keys of the laptop he's brought along and plugged into the wall. Turns out he's scarily efficient on field work.
"Still get bloody great puddles across the road." Mike gripes. "You done with that?"
"Almost..." He taps a few more keys, then straightens. "I suggest pointing your gun at the door."
"Someone coming?" Mike asks. "What, you've got psychic powers now to go with the tech-boy ones?"
Tim makes a 'save me from these idiots' noise. It's almost as good as Mike's. "There's motion sensors in their security system along with the cameras and heat sensors. It's standard installation in Code V buildings these days." He explains as though talking to a child, eyes still fixed on the screen. "Now would be a good time to pull out your gun."
Two seconds later and someone comes through the door. Mike brings his gun up, sights in place. No image, so he aims and the intruder's a small explosion. Don't know if they'll be able to send in the clean-up crew for this one's place in the high-tech prison, since this was supposed to be a quick in and out job. Info, not Vaughan's specialised scary bastards in kevlar. Not advertising their presence is a good one. Tim takes a deep breath and unplugs his laptop, stuffing it in the backpack. "Right. You done?"
"Yeah." Tim replies. "Now can we get out of here?"
"Patience, grasshopper." Mike replies. Tim repeats his 'save me from the idiots' noise, this time adding an eyeroll for good measure. They sneak out by a side door, listening for security guards as they go. Operating as a business means you need security guards that can cope with daylight. Fortunately the one they do almost run into is a dopey git who can't be arsed to do his rounds properly, as he doesn't bother looking round corners.
Once outside, Mike scowls at the weather and hunches further into his jacket to avoid the rain as much as possible. "Ten to one this doesn't let up by morning."
"The universe is out to get you." Tim sympathises cheerfully. "I suggest going back, putting this stuff we've learnt into the system and then going to the pub."
Mike pulls out his fags and puts one in his mouth, cupping his hand around the end as he lights it to shield it from the rain. "You're buying the first round."
END
