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Cornelius sat heavily in his computer chair and leaned back into the thick padding.

He’d designed it specifically for his round body so when he started a marathon session, he could do so in complete comfort.

The bank of monitors sat in front of him, glowing with their screen savers.

This was the most powerful machine he’d ever built, and very few people in his immediate circle knew about it or could understand it.

It didn’t really bother him that his closest friends didn’t know this part of his life. His people accepted and loved him for himself, not his hacker talents. He was okay with that.

The screens came to life as he booted up his massive system.

His fingers danced over the keyboard, barely skimming the buttons as he called up and hooked into the dark web.

Streams of information flowed into the rolling feed of one monitor while real-time calls appeared on others.

One smaller screen showed pictures of the space around his cabin.

The place was isolated, but with his satellite setup, he had unlimited bandwidth and access. It was fast.

Cornelius placed the headset over his ears and swung the microphone down to rest in front of his mouth. The voice modulator kicked on and made him sound like a confused old man.

“Hello? I was told to call this number about my son. I got an email that he was in trouble.”

The voice at the other end of the phone started a typical script. “This is the European Police department. Your son has been arrested for…”

Cornelius played along without amusement.

At one time, messing with scammers was entertainment, but now it was more of a mission.

Too many people had lost money to these criminals, and even more, they had lost trust and faith in humanity.

The level of personal violation was off the charts, along with the helplessness and despair that there was nothing that could be done.

Justice was a fickle bitch; he’d learned that a long time ago.

Cornelius continued to lead the scammer on with a promise of a big payoff and then killed his entire system.

Jazzyhands was really good at this particular schtick and had destroyed many scammers.

She’d been off and on lately, but he wasn’t too worried, as she checked in enough that he knew she was okay.

Her life had taken a different turn as her workload had increased at the coffee shop, and she now had a boyfriend.

The people who hadn’t checked in concerned him.

Of all the scam-shielders, he was the only one who’d learned who they were.

He didn’t stalk anyone or interfere in their lives, but he kept tabs on them like a guardian from time to time.

Glyndathegood had been out for a while, but he knew the woman had a nasty divorce happening, plus she had other identities she used online.

One of them he knew about was CatLady50, but that was more of her personal ID.

She’d been offline for weeks now as Glynda.

Cornelius pulled up his log records and swore.

It had been five weeks since she logged in under either of those names.

A frisson of worry drifted down his spine.

Rumors on some of the chat threads circled around some very rich and very pissed-off people who wanted revenge on whoever crippled their network.

Cornelius had hoped the whole mess would blow over, but it didn’t seem to be going in that direction.

He’d sent warnings to the other shielders but hadn’t heard any scuttlebutt in a while.

Instead of throwing out his hook for another scammer, he scanned the web for information. It didn’t take long for him to find it, and when he did, that worry expanded into full-blown fear.

“Ms. Lynn Farthing, a counselor at Raeford High School, was found dead in a luxury suite at the Radisson West hotel. It appears she drowned in the room’s private Jacuzzi after having a number of drinks with a guest at the hotel bar.

Ms. Farthing was recently divorced from her husband of twenty-five years and, according to her coworkers, had become increasingly depressed.

The coroner has ruled her death an accidental suicide.

The room was booked under an international corporation.

The police have not yet been able to identify the man she was with. ”

Cornelius watched the report twice. His mouth pressed into a grim line as his fingers flew over the keyboard, clicking and searching. An article popped up in Texas.

“The University of Texas is reeling from the sudden death of Mark Masters, an engineering student who was set to graduate this year. Witnesses at the Burger Spot diner report that he started seizing while he was eating lunch and passed out. The paramedics were unable to revive him. Although his tox screen was negative, sources say this looked like death from a drug overdose.”

“Shit,” Cornelius said aloud as he expanded his search. Another report popped up of a man in Canada who died in his apartment under mysterious circumstances. By all indications, he’d suffocated, but it was unknown how it happened.

One by one, the scam-shielders were being picked off.

Why? Cornelius’s mind immediately thought of the massive network that had collapsed recently.

He was sure Jazzyhands brought them down.

Those gargantuan call centers had fallen and hadn’t recovered yet.

Probably never would. Millions, perhaps billions, were lost, and several legit businesses had been affected.

It was both impressive and scary as hell that a single person had that kind of talent to create something so destructive.

If Jazzyhands wasn’t such a good person, there’s no telling how much damage she could do.

A movement caught Cornelius’s eye. It was brief, just a blip at the edge of his home security screen, but it was enough for his fear to grow cold and morph into anger. He picked up his cell phone and pulled up a number. The phone rang twice before it was answered.

“What’s up, Bruiser?”

“Hey, Table. I got company at my place, and I don’t think it’s the good kind. Mind gettin’ me some help?”

“Mute and Dodge are here. You want me to text Stud and Forge?”

Cornelius, aka Bruiser, said, “That’s a good idea. Come armed. Whoever’s out there knows my cameras’ blind spots.”

“Shit, brother, are you being targeted?”

“Seems like it.”

“On the way.”

Bruiser strained his eyes for any more movement.

His cabin was eerily quiet, and his hand hovered over the button that would blaze the lights all around his home.

They were ranged at 120 lumens, which was enough to cause temporary blindness that could last from a few minutes to several hours.

He’d used them only once before when a past two-legged intruder thought his cabin would be easy pickings.

The powerful lights plus some well-placed buckshot dissuaded that notion.

Bruiser had a feeling he would need more than buckshot this time.

Another motion in the dark close to his deck. He sensed it more than saw it. His fingers descended to hit the banks of lights at the same time a barely audible chink sounded in the air. Bruiser looked down to see a small red spot appear on his chest. One that slowly spread into a blooming flower.

“Oh, fuck, no.”