While Felicity was pretty exasperated with Ollie, for reasons personal and professional, there was a part of her that was happy that she was finally going to get the opportunity to do things her way. The superhero community, after all, had proven in the last day to be pretty much unreliable, certainly not as reliable as her own hacking skills.
Everything had started perfectly smoothly; the Verdant website had been completely remodeled to reflect its new ownership, with a glowing bio of "club impresario" Jordan Harold front and center. The press release for her purchase of the club was, indeed, dated three weeks ago but Felicity didn't buy it for a second.
It only took a few minutes for her decryption program to hack into the website, and once she found a log of when the changes were made it wasn't particularly a shock that that supposed three-week-old press release was actually not even made a full day ago. She had her proof, but like hell was she going to leave it at that; she had the IP address of whoever wrote that nonsense about Jordan Harold's oh-so-illustrious entrepreneurship and she was going to exploit that for all it was worth.
Almost immediately, she found a vulnerable device the IP was associated with, and she couldn't help but grin. There isn't even a firewall, she thought, this is almost too --
That train of thought never reached its destination, because the moment she thought she'd found her in she was suddenly bombarded by a rapid-fire pattern of blindingly bright colors, with a bizarre pulsating sound emanating from her speakers. She wanted to close the connection, but her mind and her body didn't seem to be communicating all that well and she could only twitch her index finger on the mouse once or twice before losing all control entirely, staring slack-jawed at her computer screen.
After a minute that felt like an hour of the colors being the only thing on the screen, brief flickers of women started showing up in the pattern, briefly and intermittently that Felicity started looking forward to seeing them. Initially she could only make out that they were... well, women, but soon she started piecing together that they all had jet-black hair and a goth aesthetic. Like I used to in college, she dimly recalled. They were a lot like her. The old her, of course, but her nonetheless. But it was so nice looking at them, and not the colors...
The next thing she realized was that all of those girls were clearly recording themselves on webcams, and every new image of them was becoming more and more lewd. Cute goth-y girls undressing themselves, cute goth-y girls showing off their assets, cute goth-y girls touching themselves... if she were thinking straight, Felicity would have been mortified. But she wasn't, and instead she was on the verge of drooling, her mind soaking up the images like a sponge.
Suddenly, after what felt like an eternity immersed in this world, the images stopped, and were replaced by an address, just long enough for Felicity to commit it to memory. Then the tab closed itself, and slowly but surely Team Arrow's resident hacker came to, unthinkingly wiping the drool off her chin and trying to remember what happened. She'd found... something, right?
"Oh right, the address," she muttered to herself. She knew where the salon was. It probably made sense to tell Ollie, but he was still out from his one-night stand, and besides, it's not like he was paying enough attention to her ideas as it was. She'd just have to expose this New U Salon on her own, face-to-face.
****
Barbie was on her way to do some work on Jennifer Lawrence when her phone vibrated. She glanced down at it and grinned from ear to ear when she saw the notification that her little trap had been sprung. Felicity Smoak was good, but she was about to learn a very permanent lesson about what happens when you mess with the best.
Fri Aug 04 07:20:39 2017
1 comment Last updated: Fri Aug 4 07:28:01 2017