Page 25

Ace

July 23, 2024, Miami, Florida, Trick Pony server room, that same night…

The air hung heavy with the scent of electronics and a low thrum vibrated through the floor when I stepped into the Trick Pony’s server room and sighed. This was going to take time and patience—two things I lacked, especially with my baby brother’s desperate need for the information locked away in the towering servers. To make my life worse, it looked as if Harbor Security wasn’t the only outfit that bastard had made a deal with—a chilling realization, given the implications. Upon closer examination, I discovered that several of the servers I’d initially identified as potential candidates were not under our organization’s control.

Which begged the question.

Just who in the hell else did that motherfucker contract with?

A few weeks after Danny anonymously sent the FBI damning evidence of the depraved activities at the Trick Pony, Matthew received a call—the chilling ring echoing the gravity of the situation. In the wake of Devlin Scott’s death, the FBI showed no hesitation. Acting swiftly, the Bureau immediately obtained both a search and seizure warrant and an eminent domain order, ensuring immediate service of the legal documents to prevent the occupants and members from vacating the premises before arrests could be made. The moment FBI agents executed the warrants, the lead agent, one Alex McNamara, immediately proceeded with the arrest of each and every person inside the building, not wasting a single second. Paramedics transported those in need of medical care to nearby hospitals for evaluation. Agents rode along in the ambulances, gathering comprehensive statements from the patients to aid the investigation.

Every aspect of the operation unfolded with the precision of a finely tuned machine, adhering strictly to the protocols detailed in the Bureau’s field manual, that was until the intrusion of the FBI’s technology specialists into the central server room threw everything into disarray.

As predicted, the moment the FBI’s technological specialists attempted to penetrate the club’s server defenses, they were met with an immediate lockout as well as a simultaneous and immediate breach of their own computer hard drives, a consequence of the club’s advanced security measures. I developed a small, specialized Trojan horse program to address that specific situation. I wasn’t trying to keep people out. It was more about protecting my brother’s tech from those who would seek to obtain it without permission or authorization. It was bad enough that Danny misused his technology for wicked purposes. However, the thought of any government agency gaining control of his program was absolutely terrifying, and I refused to allow that to happen to my brother.

It was expected that we would be called in by the FEDs, given the situation, and we were pleased to be able to assist in any way we could.

Setting my bag down, I pulled out my high-tech lightweight, foldable keyboard, wasting no time plugging in an ethernet cord, before plugging the other end into the server’s mainframe. With a series of pops and cracks, I stretched out my fingers, meticulously cracking each knuckle individually, and then proceeded to roll my head from side to side in a fluid motion, preparing myself for the task ahead.

While Matthew and the others kept the FBI off my back, I worked my magic, quickly circumventing the server’s security protocols. It wasn’t easy, but I was making headway when I breached the core of the mainframe, unlocking access to the club’s files.

Smiling, I looked at my watch and frowned.

Reaching for the small comms in my ear, I whispered, “I’m in.”

“That took longer than I thought.”

“Shut up and do your thing. I don’t know when they will check on me.”

“You know there is a hacking class at MIT you might find beneficial.”

“Shut up, Danny.”

“Just keeping your options open, bro.” My brother chuckled, then cursed, “Shit.”

“What?”

“Someone else is in the mainframe.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know, but the fucker is fast. Whoever it is, they are erasing the files faster than I can download them. Fuck! Ace, you are gonna have to do it. Plug in that MicroDrive I gave you and hit enter!”

Quickly doing what my brother asked, I watched in amazement as the files instantly moved from the server’s mainframe to the MicroDrive.

“What about the deleted files?”

“I can recover them. The MicroDrive copies the server’s main frame, programing, everything. Basically, it’s a miniature supercomputer. Once I have access to that, I can recover any files deleted within the last six months.”

“When the fuck did you come up with something like that?”

“Freshman year. Got bored in English class.”

“Jesus fuck, Danny,” I muttered, watching the MicroDrive do its thing when something caught my attention. Using my index finger, I moved the mouse, hovered it over a file, and tapped my pad, opening it up as I read.

Subject: Jackson Kane Baudelaire born June 15, 1988, Atlanta, Georgia.

Mother: Vera J. Canne

Father: Kane ‘Morpheus’ Baudelaire (President of the Brotherhood of Bastards MC)

Date: September 3, 1994, Miami, Florida.

Jackson exhibits pathological and psychological tendencies that could be useful if cultivated. However, he also exhibits strong protective tendencies that if unchecked, could become a problem. Jackson is a sullen child and rarely speaks. His aggressive nature and need to protect the younger children speaks volumes to his countenance.

Nothing fazes Jackson. I’ve tried everything to break him. His strong constitution and deep-rooted anger for me does nothing to dimmish his pathological mind. I know he’s planning to kill me. I can see him working out the plausibility in his mind.

Jackson is an exceptional child and learns at a fast rate, a skill he inherited from his father. I can’t wait to start his real training as I cultivate him into the ruthless killer I know lies deep within. I also plan to introduce him to Lucy McLaren, as she will be instrumental in ensuring that as he grows, he’s able to control his sexual desires.

I can’t wait to see how he performs in the real world.

I have high hopes for him.

Update: May 26, 1995. That fucking bitch Amelia took him! I fucking warned Scott that she couldn’t be trusted. She was nothing more than a fucking useless inbred cunt, and I should have sent her off to Bianchi’s farm after she failed to give Scott what he most craved.

Sick fucking bastard.

Not only did that bitch take him, but she also fucking took off with two others.

Fuck! Stone is not going to be happy when he learns this. Greedy bastard has been looking for a way to oust me. He fucking hates taking orders from me.

Update: August 14, 2001. I found him! Jackson is alive and living at the Tennessee Chapter of the Golden Skulls. There is no way I can extract him without showing my hand. As it is, my sister’s son has already started putting the pieces together. James knows William was responsible for Maxwell’s abduction and torture. Soon he will learn everything and come for me. I can’t let that happen.

Update: April 23, 2021. I was right. Jackson’s tendencies are unparalleled, even rivaling his father’s. The execution and control he maintained when killing Alexander Goldman was stunningly beautiful. The precision and strength he exhibited is a true testament to his psychopathic tendencies.

I must find a way to draw him out and bring him to heel.

Update: July 29, 2024: That son of a bitch Scott told Morpheus his son is alive. Morpheus is now hunting. FUCK!

Holy fucking shit!

Ravage was the bastard son of the Morpheus, the president of the Brotherhood of Bastards. This was not fucking good. That motherfucking club was hands down 1%. They didn’t give a fuck about anything. They did what they wanted and fuck everyone else. The Soulless Sinners even steered clear of them, and more importantly, the Brotherhood of Bastards didn’t fucking recognize biker law or the fucking table.

They were ruthless.

Not thinking, I removed the comms from my ear, dropping it on the floor and stomping on it. I knew Danny contracted with the Brotherhood. They were one of his first clients. If Danny learned this shit, he would be obligated, contractually so, to inform Morpheus of Jackson’s whereabouts.

Unplugging the MicroDrive, I reached into my bag, grabbed the EMP I brought just in case Danny and I couldn’t get into the servers. Setting it in the middle of the server room, I set the timer for ten seconds.

Gathering my keyboard and the micro hard drive, I stuffed it into a faraday bag and taped it up. I might not have been able to save my computer, but by God I was going to save the MicroDrive. Looking around, I made sure I left nothing behind before activating the EMP, then hightailed it out the backdoor of the server room and prayed that when the dust settled, Reaper and the others would forgive me, because there was no fucking way I was going to allow anyone to see this information.