The Game of Champions by Lamora & Lamora how could you

Author:Lamora & Lamora how could you [Lamora how could you]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Webfiction, Abandoned, Deleted, Fanfiction, Pokemon
Publisher: www.fanfiction.net
Published: 2022-06-03T00:00:00+00:00

9. Greed

Disclaimer : I do not own Pokemon, or any of its affiliated companies including, but not limited to, 4Kids, The Pokemon Company, Game Freaks, or Cartoon Network. The characters written within this fic are soley based upon the fictional characters created by these companies, and the story is not meant to, nor will it, receive any monetary funding.

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The Game of Champions

Chapter Seven

Greed

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"To greed, all in nature is insufficient."

-Seneca, famous Roman philosopher

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"Ah, come on, fuggen...oh please, those haven't been- really? Really?"

He has been called genius, innovator and national treasure. He is a researcher, inventor and post-apocalypse Renaissance man.

What he is not is patient. Irritably, the man, in pajamas and bathrobe clad, hammers away at a series of keyboards and displays, some physical, others hovering in the air in apparitions of harsh light, casting sunken cheekbones in sharp relief. A graveyard of coffee mugs and doodle sheets sit in rows and stacks around him.

"You're really throwing up Morimoto-Ishihara algorithms here. Really. Hahaha. Ha. Okay. Don't blame me when you get rolled, boom, headshot motherfucker! Get on my level, porygon sluts."

An interface across the darkened room lights up, and a digitized female voice speaks with measured urgency as a shrill alarm begins ringing throughout the house and conjoined laboratory, causing him to wince. "Warning, League Headquarters mainframe under attack. Attention all Elhaz-class technicians, man terminals and prepare-"

The inglorious genius growls and quickly slaps a few buttons on one display, plunging the house into silence once more. "Shut up, shut up, I know. I'm the one breaking in, remember? Honestly, whose idea was it to use elder futhark for personnel designations? Fucking nerds." A dozen new screens of code and numbers pop up in a dizzying half moon, and he grins. "Oh, so the fun police have arrived." He drags one screen of prewritten code and copys it a dozen times before executing. The hacker grins maliciously. "First round's on me, boys. I choose you, CookieMonster."

It's sad, really. He knows all of them personally, and knows any one of them could have been a real threat to him if they put in the time instead of wasting it with stupid things like social lives and sleep. Instead, here they all are drowning in junk code produced by his virus. And he wrote code as a hobby.

The various firewalls and security measures fold before him like wheat before a thresher - as they should, considering he co-wrote almost half of them. Dozens of backdoors and reroutes later, the Pokemon League Headquarters mainframe lays exposed before him like an easy whore, defensive porygons and programmers floundering as they chase after CookieMonster, his own tricked out porygon, currently poking at every top secret file he can find.

Of course, they'll be at it a while. CookieMonster isn't actually designed to hack the top secret files he found, only to give the appearance of doing so, in order to scare the system's porygons and programmers into prioritizing him while he trolls around in their most highly classified directories like a emboar in a turnip field.

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