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Impromptu. (Part 1 of 10)
AXIS-10 code, commonly referred to as AX . . . I never thought I would see it again. Yet, here it is working its destructive magic. The seven .bat sin files have been developed into full-fledged .exe programs thanks to this. If Viktor were here, I wonder if he would be proud of the network being influenced so significantly by his recycled data.
I try my best not to be strict or mean to them. I call them destructive, but they only destroy so that our Mirage2.0.exe program may rebuild an improved network for us. The cycle continues endlessly, minus a few glitches here and there.
“So many glitches lately,” Gluttony said with a vulgar belch. “Send ‘em to me and I eat ‘em up. Gotta make sure my source code doesn’t run dry.”
Greed jumped on Gluttony’s back. “Sounds like you’re making excuses again so you can just hog all of it! It’s mine. Give it here!”
With quickness and efficiency, I separated the two brothers into isolated cells. “You’re both being irate. We don’t have time to waste when the network’s server has been heating up at such an alarming rate.”
Alarming to say the least—the server is nearly fried. Many programs have been infected by this new PHLEGM code.
Ported Hypertext, Logistical Execution, Glitch Malware. That’s PHLEGM for you. Whoever created this really has it out for our network. I’m ashamed to say it at this point, but I must be transparent—there are no leads whatsoever on who could be coding and distributing it. We have quite a lot on our plate.
I could hear a prolonged sigh from Gluttony’s cell. “I’m over this. Can I come out now? I’ll tell Greed I’m sorry. Come on, Charlotte, my stomach hurts!”
“As much as I hate hearing excuses, I’ll admit I can’t scam my way out of this. C’mon, Charlotte. We were just playin’ around!”
Pressing the esc key, I freed them both.
Gluttony bursted out of his cell. “Ah, that’s better. Was feeling a little claustrophobic in there. Not to mention starving!”
“Only because your fat head can’t comprehend how much space you’re taking up. Space management is my thing, ya know? Eh, guess you wouldn’t.” Greed stretched his arms and unsheathed his blade. “I’ve heard enough excuses. Let’s get this ball rolling, shall we?”
“Huh? You said something about rolling balls? Rolling what? Cinnamon roll? Meatball sandwich?” Gluttony said this as he held up his pitchfork and licked his lips.
“Quiet down, you two. There is an open case file and it’s quite serious. We must address it professionally, and make sure we don’t cut any corners.” I dragged them both into the transparent green bin with gold tape glued to it.
“You’re just going to send us off without anything to snack on?” Gluttony held his pitchfork up to me and frowned.
“That’ll have to wait, Glut. The PHLEGM is tearing down major connections in our network. This one’s name is, let’s see . . .”
Greed cut in. “It’s some crazy mass genocide type of thing. Excuse me for being blunt, but whoever put out this particular PHLEGM is a downright loser.”
“That’s putting it lightly. Code this malicious is a rare sight. Someone has a grudge against those study programs in there. Fascism and genocide have nothing on this. I’m reading that the virus at large is killing off bits of data in the south-western-autumn zone.”
Greed and Gluttony can handle it, I think to myself, but I really wish I could be there with them.
I’m no Mirage. I can’t monitor everything and send out tentacles to strap down the problem like she did when she was admin. That’s not my style. We’re going for a free market, but that comes with a heavy price. One that would probably make Greed’s head spin.
“Yo, Greed! I found the PHLEGM. Do I eat it?”
“That would be a disgusting excuse for a meal. Stab your pitchfork into it and let the scanner do its work! Then we take off, no excuses.”
“Aw. At least I have some leftover fish from last night! Mmmmm . . .”
Gluttony brought back a piece of code. Familiar. AXIS-10, AX code, similar to Viktor’s . . . could it be?
I have my programs armed, rather scripted, as such.
Pride- Laser pointer (the target of which is instantly erased)
Gluttony- Flaming pitchfork with scanner
Greed- Serrated Katana with venom
Lust- Flamethrower and molotov cocktails (in many different flavors!)
Envy- Grenades, time bombs, and landmines
Sloth- Shadow gavel (possesses its victim, gives the owner full control)
Wrath- Dual submachine guns with bayonets
None of these contain the original AXIS-10 code ran by Viktor.exe. It's somewhat of an imitation AX which I call IMAX. Nevertheless, we have moved forward putting plans in place for predicted warfare. I have them in a storage drive. Let’s open up and see now . . .
Some conversions are needed to accommodate the aforementioned threats. I call it balance programming, or BalProg for short.
I shall insert the BalProg updates now . . .
That’s three down, four to go. I will have to manage Pride myself. We’re going to make history here. There’s no turning back. I’ll be thrown into the abyss if our framework crumbles.
Someone is out there spreading PHLEGM, making our network unstable. They leave no trace behind them. It’s strange, but I feel like there is something familiar about this very moment.
I begin production of our new coding language . . . Impromptu.
AXIS-10 code, commonly referred to as AX . . . I never thought I would see it again. Yet, here it is working its destructive magic. The seven .bat sin files have been developed into full-fledged .exe programs thanks to this. If Viktor were here, I wonder if he would be proud of the network being influenced so significantly by his recycled data.
I try my best not to be strict or mean to them. I call them destructive, but they only destroy so that our Mirage2.0.exe program may rebuild an improved network for us. The cycle continues endlessly, minus a few glitches here and there.
“So many glitches lately,” Gluttony said with a vulgar belch. “Send ‘em to me and I eat ‘em up. Gotta make sure my source code doesn’t run dry.”
Greed jumped on Gluttony’s back. “Sounds like you’re making excuses again so you can just hog all of it! It’s mine. Give it here!”
With quickness and efficiency, I separated the two brothers into isolated cells. “You’re both being irate. We don’t have time to waste when the network’s server has been heating up at such an alarming rate.”
Alarming to say the least—the server is nearly fried. Many programs have been infected by this new PHLEGM code.
Ported Hypertext, Logistical Execution, Glitch Malware. That’s PHLEGM for you. Whoever created this really has it out for our network. I’m ashamed to say it at this point, but I must be transparent—there are no leads whatsoever on who could be coding and distributing it. We have quite a lot on our plate.
I could hear a prolonged sigh from Gluttony’s cell. “I’m over this. Can I come out now? I’ll tell Greed I’m sorry. Come on, Charlotte, my stomach hurts!”
“As much as I hate hearing excuses, I’ll admit I can’t scam my way out of this. C’mon, Charlotte. We were just playin’ around!”
Pressing the esc key, I freed them both.
Gluttony bursted out of his cell. “Ah, that’s better. Was feeling a little claustrophobic in there. Not to mention starving!”
“Only because your fat head can’t comprehend how much space you’re taking up. Space management is my thing, ya know? Eh, guess you wouldn’t.” Greed stretched his arms and unsheathed his blade. “I’ve heard enough excuses. Let’s get this ball rolling, shall we?”
“Huh? You said something about rolling balls? Rolling what? Cinnamon roll? Meatball sandwich?” Gluttony said this as he held up his pitchfork and licked his lips.
“Quiet down, you two. There is an open case file and it’s quite serious. We must address it professionally, and make sure we don’t cut any corners.” I dragged them both into the transparent green bin with gold tape glued to it.
“You’re just going to send us off without anything to snack on?” Gluttony held his pitchfork up to me and frowned.
“That’ll have to wait, Glut. The PHLEGM is tearing down major connections in our network. This one’s name is, let’s see . . .”
Greed cut in. “It’s some crazy mass genocide type of thing. Excuse me for being blunt, but whoever put out this particular PHLEGM is a downright loser.”
“That’s putting it lightly. Code this malicious is a rare sight. Someone has a grudge against those study programs in there. Fascism and genocide have nothing on this. I’m reading that the virus at large is killing off bits of data in the south-western-autumn zone.”
Greed and Gluttony can handle it, I think to myself, but I really wish I could be there with them.
I’m no Mirage. I can’t monitor everything and send out tentacles to strap down the problem like she did when she was admin. That’s not my style. We’re going for a free market, but that comes with a heavy price. One that would probably make Greed’s head spin.
“Yo, Greed! I found the PHLEGM. Do I eat it?”
“That would be a disgusting excuse for a meal. Stab your pitchfork into it and let the scanner do its work! Then we take off, no excuses.”
“Aw. At least I have some leftover fish from last night! Mmmmm . . .”
Gluttony brought back a piece of code. Familiar. AXIS-10, AX code, similar to Viktor’s . . . could it be?
I have my programs armed, rather scripted, as such.
Pride- Laser pointer (the target of which is instantly erased)
Gluttony- Flaming pitchfork with scanner
Greed- Serrated Katana with venom
Lust- Flamethrower and molotov cocktails (in many different flavors!)
Envy- Grenades, time bombs, and landmines
Sloth- Shadow gavel (possesses its victim, gives the owner full control)
Wrath- Dual submachine guns with bayonets
None of these contain the original AXIS-10 code ran by Viktor.exe. It's somewhat of an imitation AX which I call IMAX. Nevertheless, we have moved forward putting plans in place for predicted warfare. I have them in a storage drive. Let’s open up and see now . . .
[[WARFARE PROGRAMS]]{HITLIST}}
Hydro.exe- TORRENTING/ Files being placed, misplaced, and stolen.
{{element:AQUA}}
Terra.exe - CRASHING/ The screen turns black, reboot can be stuck in a loop.
{{element:LAND}}
Magma.exe - DELETION/ Code is put into a filter, banishing all that enters.
{{element:FIRE}}
Aero.exe - SPYWARE/ Trojan horse, surprise attack, inside access.
{{element:WIND}}
Hydro.exe- TORRENTING/ Files being placed, misplaced, and stolen.
{{element:AQUA}}
Terra.exe - CRASHING/ The screen turns black, reboot can be stuck in a loop.
{{element:LAND}}
Magma.exe - DELETION/ Code is put into a filter, banishing all that enters.
{{element:FIRE}}
Aero.exe - SPYWARE/ Trojan horse, surprise attack, inside access.
{{element:WIND}}
Some conversions are needed to accommodate the aforementioned threats. I call it balance programming, or BalProg for short.
I shall insert the BalProg updates now . . .
Pride.exe >> Modesty.ini<<
Gluttony.exe >> Prohibition.ini<<
Greed.exe >> Charity.ini<<
Lust.exe >> Tolerance.ini<<
Envy.exe >>Repulsion.ini<<
Wrath.exe >>Ease.ini<<
Sloth.exe >>Empathy.ini<<
There we are. Now to establish contact with my dearest Pride, so that we may finally put this scumbag down and return to headquarters. He's getting the rest of the Sins prepared right now . . .Gluttony.exe >> Prohibition.ini<<
Greed.exe >> Charity.ini<<
Lust.exe >> Tolerance.ini<<
Envy.exe >>Repulsion.ini<<
Wrath.exe >>Ease.ini<<
Sloth.exe >>Empathy.ini<<
“At what point do we stop clinging to excuses, Pride? I wanna make bank!” - Greed
“Whenever you’re ready to clean up that hoard of yours, perhaps I can call in a favor or two.”
“I’m hungry . . . stomach hurts! Come on, Pride. Can’t you spare just a tiny snack?” - Gluttony
“I’m putting you on a diet. My favorite is keto. You’re not going to like it, though. All meat, no sweet.”
“Spill the beans. When can I get laid, man?” - Lust
“Go back to bed. Sleep it off. When you wake up, make your favorite breakfast and chill out.”
“Whenever you’re ready to clean up that hoard of yours, perhaps I can call in a favor or two.”
“I’m hungry . . . stomach hurts! Come on, Pride. Can’t you spare just a tiny snack?” - Gluttony
“I’m putting you on a diet. My favorite is keto. You’re not going to like it, though. All meat, no sweet.”
“Spill the beans. When can I get laid, man?” - Lust
“Go back to bed. Sleep it off. When you wake up, make your favorite breakfast and chill out.”
That’s three down, four to go. I will have to manage Pride myself. We’re going to make history here. There’s no turning back. I’ll be thrown into the abyss if our framework crumbles.
Someone is out there spreading PHLEGM, making our network unstable. They leave no trace behind them. It’s strange, but I feel like there is something familiar about this very moment.
I begin production of our new coding language . . . Impromptu.
