Lxrd
Level 16
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The following information is all to be taken as out-of-character information, and is not to be used in character under any circumstances.
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THE SCRIPTER.
The room is completely dark, nothing can be seen; a brief click fills the absence of senses. It feels cold and humid, the stench of mildew in whatever surroundings this is. Proximal breathing can be heard, and the sudden rustling and flapping of cloth. An masculine sounding individual is sent into a sputtering cough, and then a zipper zips. The sounds of some sort of spring and rolling wheels can be heard, followed by a relaxed sigh. The room fills with light as a hand flicks on a Zippo lighter, thunking as it is set on a table. The room is still very dark, the cloud of dust still floating in the air. Lone in the room, the flame is the source of all perception; aside from its reflection in a dusty square and off the zipper that still jingles. There are installments of tables with objects covered by cloth, each bearing a similar shape to the one that has just been uncovered, an ancient computer monitor, keyboard, and mouse, all set beside a tower possessing the same faded office beige. A gloved hand wipes the dust from the screen, revealing the reflection of a black hooded human with sharp eyes, unnatural blonde hair, and a mask; a zipper across it is the source of the chiming metal. Their eyes are a greyish blue, and the dark circles underneath them and widened pupils indicate their lack of sleep and an adjustment to the dark. Their hands shove into their pocket, producing a plastic-covered cigarette box, which they wrestle to open with their gloved hands until it drops to the floor. Letting out a frustrated groan, they pull an object from their pocket, flicking it back and forth. The butterfly knife shines in the light, refracting off the flame as the individual stabs the box, lifting it and flicking it off the blade onto the counter. Unfolding a white and black paisley-pattern bandana atop the surface, the mysterious individual cuts the plastic free from the box, dumping its contents atop the cloth. A mess of cut-open cigarettes and tobacco, followed by a white flash drive. Retrieving the drive from the clutter, the being blows off the tobacco; sticking it into the computer tower and pressing the power button. As the ancient technology awakens in a symphony of whirs and clicks, they find an untainted cigarette and slide it through the zipper, grasping the lighter and bringing it to its tip. Inhaling inwards, they snap the lighter closed, placing their hands behind them and their soaked black and white sneakers on the table, leaning back in their chair as they take a drag. The computer is slow, its age likely having broken down the capacity of its internal components, and as its user patiently tokes to take up time, finding themselves at the end of their cigarette before the other is done. Grasping another from the mess on the table, they inspect it before placing it in their mouth, using the old to light the new. As they flick the cigarette away from them, it lands on one of the cloth tarps over the other tech in the room, burning a hole and tainting the same beige plastic underneath. Shifting in their seat, the user does not care; his anticipation resting on the screen. A green field of Japanese text can be seen, contrasting with the dimly lit black pixels. A green square flashes every second, prepared for a command. Habitually interlacing their fingers, the hooded figure stretches them, cracking their knuckles before they slide over the keyboard, their inputs manifesting on screen at a surprising speed:
cmd.daisy.open
LxGIN ENTRY?:
k:D4BROKENTRAP
Running. . .
PASSWxRD ENTRY?
k:AllAnAct123
ACCESS GRANTED
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------//CAISHEN NETWxRK.exe//
LxADING RUNNINGS
CxMPLETE!
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
WELCxME DAISY
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
k:run:access/gxldenenvelxpe
PASSWxRD?:
k:nxfalsecrxwns
ADMIN ACCESS GRANTED
k:run:gxldenenvelxpe
RETRIEVING DATA
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
CxMPLETE!
12/31/2025
CAISHEN FILE #64 "DEER IN HEADLIGHTS"
United States, Michigan, "Kirin Interstate"
KirinRun.TXT:
Hey Daisyyyyy, I'm gonna need some of your help. I need you to crack into the State of Michigan's records and start wiping any record of my run today. I outran two helicopters and pulled some shit on the roadblock they tried, and the cops are freaking out. You'll see what I mean. Get rid of as much as you can, and ensure anything with my description isn't admissible in court or is gone altogether.
Update any of your findings here.
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
k:reply:KirinRun.
LOADING
TXT FORMAT LOADED DOUBLE TXT TO LOAD OPERATOR
k:Illicit, this shit is out of hand. How dare you!!! :skull: I’ll get right on it. Their database isn’t going to be too difficult a maneuver through. As always, let me know if there’s anything you need. Also, heads up, I’ve got a new lead regarding the very first project you assigned me on; we might actually be able to meet in person to talk about it. Take care out there, heal fast. I’ll see you soon.
k:TXT
k:TXT
WOULD YOU LIKE TO SAVE THIS TXT FILE PERMANENTLY TO THIS FILE?
k:yes
SAVING. . . . .
DONE!
cmd:SHH
SHUTTING DOWN CAISHEN NETWORK, GOODNIGHT DAISY!
The following information is all to be taken as out-of-character information, and is not to be used in character under any circumstances.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE SCRIPTER.
The room is completely dark, nothing can be seen; a brief click fills the absence of senses. It feels cold and humid, the stench of mildew in whatever surroundings this is. Proximal breathing can be heard, and the sudden rustling and flapping of cloth. An masculine sounding individual is sent into a sputtering cough, and then a zipper zips. The sounds of some sort of spring and rolling wheels can be heard, followed by a relaxed sigh. The room fills with light as a hand flicks on a Zippo lighter, thunking as it is set on a table. The room is still very dark, the cloud of dust still floating in the air. Lone in the room, the flame is the source of all perception; aside from its reflection in a dusty square and off the zipper that still jingles. There are installments of tables with objects covered by cloth, each bearing a similar shape to the one that has just been uncovered, an ancient computer monitor, keyboard, and mouse, all set beside a tower possessing the same faded office beige. A gloved hand wipes the dust from the screen, revealing the reflection of a black hooded human with sharp eyes, unnatural blonde hair, and a mask; a zipper across it is the source of the chiming metal. Their eyes are a greyish blue, and the dark circles underneath them and widened pupils indicate their lack of sleep and an adjustment to the dark. Their hands shove into their pocket, producing a plastic-covered cigarette box, which they wrestle to open with their gloved hands until it drops to the floor. Letting out a frustrated groan, they pull an object from their pocket, flicking it back and forth. The butterfly knife shines in the light, refracting off the flame as the individual stabs the box, lifting it and flicking it off the blade onto the counter. Unfolding a white and black paisley-pattern bandana atop the surface, the mysterious individual cuts the plastic free from the box, dumping its contents atop the cloth. A mess of cut-open cigarettes and tobacco, followed by a white flash drive. Retrieving the drive from the clutter, the being blows off the tobacco; sticking it into the computer tower and pressing the power button. As the ancient technology awakens in a symphony of whirs and clicks, they find an untainted cigarette and slide it through the zipper, grasping the lighter and bringing it to its tip. Inhaling inwards, they snap the lighter closed, placing their hands behind them and their soaked black and white sneakers on the table, leaning back in their chair as they take a drag. The computer is slow, its age likely having broken down the capacity of its internal components, and as its user patiently tokes to take up time, finding themselves at the end of their cigarette before the other is done. Grasping another from the mess on the table, they inspect it before placing it in their mouth, using the old to light the new. As they flick the cigarette away from them, it lands on one of the cloth tarps over the other tech in the room, burning a hole and tainting the same beige plastic underneath. Shifting in their seat, the user does not care; his anticipation resting on the screen. A green field of Japanese text can be seen, contrasting with the dimly lit black pixels. A green square flashes every second, prepared for a command. Habitually interlacing their fingers, the hooded figure stretches them, cracking their knuckles before they slide over the keyboard, their inputs manifesting on screen at a surprising speed:
cmd.daisy.open
LxGIN ENTRY?:
k:D4BROKENTRAP
Running. . .
PASSWxRD ENTRY?
k:AllAnAct123
ACCESS GRANTED
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------//CAISHEN NETWxRK.exe//
LxADING RUNNINGS
CxMPLETE!
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
WELCxME DAISY
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
k:run:access/gxldenenvelxpe
PASSWxRD?:
k:nxfalsecrxwns
ADMIN ACCESS GRANTED
k:run:gxldenenvelxpe
RETRIEVING DATA
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
CxMPLETE!
12/31/2025
CAISHEN FILE #64 "DEER IN HEADLIGHTS"
United States, Michigan, "Kirin Interstate"
KirinRun.TXT:
Hey Daisyyyyy, I'm gonna need some of your help. I need you to crack into the State of Michigan's records and start wiping any record of my run today. I outran two helicopters and pulled some shit on the roadblock they tried, and the cops are freaking out. You'll see what I mean. Get rid of as much as you can, and ensure anything with my description isn't admissible in court or is gone altogether.
Update any of your findings here.
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
k:reply:KirinRun.
LOADING
TXT FORMAT LOADED DOUBLE TXT TO LOAD OPERATOR
k:Illicit, this shit is out of hand. How dare you!!! :skull: I’ll get right on it. Their database isn’t going to be too difficult a maneuver through. As always, let me know if there’s anything you need. Also, heads up, I’ve got a new lead regarding the very first project you assigned me on; we might actually be able to meet in person to talk about it. Take care out there, heal fast. I’ll see you soon.
k:TXT
k:TXT
WOULD YOU LIKE TO SAVE THIS TXT FILE PERMANENTLY TO THIS FILE?
k:yes
SAVING. . . . .
DONE!
cmd:SHH
SHUTTING DOWN CAISHEN NETWORK, GOODNIGHT DAISY!
