LoveHack

1. Company and Hack

"Okay, your total is $7.69." The cashier stared at the man in front of the register, barely uttering a word as he took his wallet out to pay cash for his sandwich, chips and soda. "Have a good night," she told him as she handed him the change. He gave her a tight smile and grabbed his bag.

"Keep the change," he finally looked her in the eye as he spoke.

Her cheeks flushed as she pocketed two dollars and put the coins in the register. When she looked back up, he was gone. She had wanted to ask for his number. He was tall and handsome and he seemed cool. However, she didn't even see him outside of the store just a few short seconds later. Like he had completely disappeared.

Namjoon threw his hood over his head as he walked down the busy streets of New York. He was eager to get home and eat his late night dinner. He had a ton of work ahead of him, and he wasn't about to put it off any longer. His clients weren't exactly the model type citizens. Mostly he dealt with mobsters. The Italians always came to him, but the Russians paid more. Although, if either ever found out he worked for both, he'd be dead. So he preferred to have the work done on time to avoid bump-ins. Once in a great moon, there'd be an official client, mainly mayors and governors, that came to him for a nondisclosure, off the grid, complete secrecy because his life depended on it services. His life always depended on his work, his efficiency, his credibility. If he didn't meet the clients expectations, he didn't get paid. Not that the official's ever paid a good penny. Often they'd chalk it up to being able to get him out of trouble with the law, which was good payment. Better than none at all.

He was tired, though, of working for the indigenous monsters. You know, at least the mobsters were honest about who they were. They didn't try to pretend they were doing good for the world. Not like the officials, who'd always told him a job well done for making their country continue to be a shithole. No, at least the Italians and Russians were honest. Sometimes too honest.

Namjoon looked back once as he ducked into the alleyway that led to the back entrance of his apartment building. He only left and entered through the front door during the day, when it was busier, in case someone was watching him. During the night, he used the back entrance, there was easier hiding places and escape routes.

People might think otherwise of his kind, that they're fat, out of shape, couch potatoes, but that wasn't true at all. Namjoon took pride in his ability to make a quick getaway if need be. If he heard sirens, he knew all the ways to make a clean run. He also took pride in blending in with the crowd. If you look suspicious, you are suspicious. So act like you're going to do something remedial, something common. The mobsters were harder to run from. It was almost impossible to tell when they were coming, but you just needed to be streetsmart for them. He'd be lucky to get away with a scratch.

Namjoon's apartment was bare, nothing to indicate homage. Nothing to show that someone was living there. A cot on the floor beside his laptop and a bag of clothes. Things he could leave behind were the makeshift bed and clothes, those were easy to get in a new place. The laptop held all of his dirty deeds, if the cops got their hands on that, they'd have a field day. If the mobsters got it, he'd have a chance to erase the entire data from his laptop before they got another hacker.

The pros and cons of being a hacker. Criminal or not, the job was self-service. He did what he wanted when he wanted and how he wanted. He was practically untraceable and he could live a free life. He didn't want to conform to society's standards and get a 9-5, meet a somewhat good woman and have kids. No, he liked living the high life. He liked the adrenaline rush when he thought his life was over or when he was being chased. It excited him more than the actual hacking. He felt like James Bond or something. Intelligent, fit, pretty awesome if you'd asked him.

Namjoon dropped down onto his cot and started eating his sandwich quickly, finishing in four bites. No time to waste. Money was time and mobsters were assholes. Namjoon took a sip of his soda before grabbing his bong. He was a hacker, did it matter if he was a stoner, too? He preferred weed to alcohol anyways, but an occasional beer was okay if he had a friend.

Namjoon opened his laptop and started it up, he watched the coding as he inhaled, then blew the smoke from his lungs. When he'd gotten through his encryption that kept outsiders as they are, out, he set the bong down, stretched and dove right in. He knew once he started on the hacking, he'd be lost to the world. His senses would be cut off.

For hours, it would just be him and the world in his hands. If you didn't know, you'd think he was kissing the screen. Fire burned beneath his fingers as he typed with incredible speed. He wanted to have a contest with another hacker to see just how fast he was. But he knew he was top game, no one could touch him.

"Kim Namjoon?"

Namjoon jumped and almost screamed. "What the fuck?" He looked up at a man in a black suit.

The man cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. "I've been waiting for so long, and this is how you greet a guest? You are Kim Namjoon, aren't you?"

"Who wants to know?"

"Some very important people. I have a job for you." The man smiled.

"Yeah? Well there's a lot of people that have a job for me, get in line."

"I'm afraid these types of people don't," the man made quotation marks in the air with his fingers as he said, "'get in line.'"

"What kind of people are we talking about?" Namjoon reached for the gun he kept under his pillow.

"Looking for this?" The man held the gun up for Namjoon to see. Namjoon paled, swallowing a thick load of excess saliva as he knew he could die. The man chuckled, "Relax. I'm not here to kill you. No, that would be completely stupid of me. Because if you die, then I lose my job and maybe my life as well."

"So what do you want?"

"It isn't what I want, but the person I work for."

"And that is?" Namjoon was starting to get irritated. The Italians would be there tomorrow exactly at 9AM on the dot.

"Worrying about those disgusting Italians?" The man sighed. "I feel so disgusted of myself that I used to be like you."

Namjoon's eyes widened. How did he know so much? And for how long had he been watched?

"If you complete this task for me and you do an outstanding job, you won't have to worry about mobsters anymore. The Italians or Russians, or whomever. Not the government either. This all relies on how well you do."

"So what am I doing? You haven't exactly told me anything about what this job is."

"First, can you hack into my company? If you pass that test, then you're the right man."

"If I don't?"

"Then you can go back to eating sandwiches and smoking cannabis."

Namjoon was curious. He didn't like the guy's attitude, but something about this sudden job offer piqued his interest. Hack into this man's company? Why would that be hard for a hack god like Namjoon?