#Cell Phone Software

[kkglinka]

Not me, booting from menu, because microsneaky tried to force me to finish installing Edge with registry entry, and then uninstalling their shitty chrome browser, fuck you very much.

[youngenchantercurse]

Day 2 at iSarva: Help Me Help You (Before My Boss Finds Out 😅)”If You Need Website, I’ll help you out

Hi there, I’m Thea – a Marketing Intern at iSarva Infotech Pvt. Ltd., and it’s only my second day on the job (yes, you read that right – day two!). While I’m still soaking in all the tech wizardry around me, my boss already gave me my first mission:

👉 Find people who need websites, apps, or any digital solution. If I don’t… well, let’s just say I’ll be in trouble 😅

🧠 So What Does iSarva Infotech Even Do?

We’re an IT software company based in India that builds and supports everything digital — From simple, elegant websites to complex enterprise-level software. Here’s a taste of what we do:

✨ Web Development – Clean, fast, mobile-friendly websites that actually work. ⚙️ ERP Solutions – Customized systems to simplify your operations. 🚀 Digital Marketing – Because just existing online isn’t enough. 🛰️ Cloud Services – Modern, scalable, and reliable. 🧭 GPS Tracking Software – Track, manage, and optimize on the go. 🌍 Offshore Development – Hire dedicated developers, without boundaries.

👀 Who Can We Help?

Small business owners 🧑‍💼

Entrepreneurs with a big vision 💡

Corporates with outdated tech 🏢

Startups who want to move fast 🚀

Anyone who wants to go digital in 2025

📣 Now Here's My Pitch

If you or someone you know needs a website, app, digital marketing, ERP, or software that doesn’t suck... 👉 Please DM me +91 99028 63697 I’ll connect you with the team (and maybe avoid the wrath of my boss 😬).

Check out our work here: https://isarvait.com

Let’s build something cool together. Your idea + Our tech = 🔥

—

#marketingintern #isarvainfotech #websitedesign #digitalagency #startuptech #internshipdiaries #indianstartup #ITsolutions #supportsmallbusiness #letsconnect

[indiaphpexpert]

Wonder how cell phone buyback software can save you time and money? Check our Websites to schedule a phone buyback shop software demo!

[morlock-holmes]

To quote myself, imagine if you bought a pocket calculator at the store in 1980, and then in 1981 Texas Instruments sent you a letter saying, "The terms of use for our calculator have changed, in order to use the calculator you agree to waive any right to a jury trial or class action suit against Texas Instruments or any of its parents or subsidiaries. Continued use of the calculator constituted a binding agreement to these terms. If you do not agree you must immediately stop all use of your pocket calculator. No refund will be provided."

Seriously, writing that out really made it strike me even more how utterly abusive the modern age is to consumers.

The EULA, or End User License Agreement is a binding contract which one party may unilaterally change at any time for any reason and in any way they choose; the counterparty may not negotiate or change the terms of the contract and their only remedy in the case of changes that they don't like is to withdraw entirely from the contract.

Such contracts govern all use of software, which, since software governs the majority of our lives, mean that they now govern the majority of our lives.

Want to order a pizza? Better send the legal contract with the pizza company to the lawyer you keep on retainer and after looking over the documents he'll advise you on the legal ramifications of the pizza transaction.

Oh, you don't keep a lawyer on hand to advise you about ordering pizza or playing video games?

Well, then you can't complain if you don't like something buried in page 20 of the contract you signed with the pizza delivery company.

One of the massively dehumanizing things bureacracy does is demand something that is in practice impossible, like, "Keep a lawyer on retainer to scrutinize the terms of every pizza delivery contract, video rental, major appliance, and video game you interact with." and then condescendingly tell you,

"Well, if you don't do something as simple as that, whatever happens next is *your fault* and blaming someone else shows a weakness in your character."

One of the confounding problems if you want to argue with people who have some kind of luddite leanings is that, well, new technology feels nowadays like an imposition from hostile forces who know that they have you over the barrel because, uh, it is that thing. It is deliberately designed to be that thing.

I like having a cell phone. I hate waiving my right to a jury or to participate in a class action lawsuit. I would pay more, as a consumer, for a phone contract that did not have a binding arbitration clause. I couldn't find one.

So I decided that owning a phone was the lesser of two evils, and that will now be treated as a free choice which I have no right to complain about.

After all, if I wanted the right to join a class action suit I could simply forgo phone service and conduct all communications by the post.

And since I am allowed to choose whether I wish to have legal rights or a telephone, I am not allowed to complain about missing one or the other. After all, *I agreed* to give one of those things up :) :) :) :)

I think this move towards mass abuse of consumers really is one of the more underrated factors in, say, modern American politics.

[salestrail0]

The Best Call Monitoring Software for Android, Employee Call Monitoring Software India

We have a how phone tracking app for Android to revolutionize employee call monitoring, ensuring efficiency and security without the need for VOIP in Indonesia. Dive into the world of call monitoring software, exploring its benefits for businesses in India and beyond.

Business Efficiency with Phone Tracking App for Android

In today's fast-paced business world, ensuring seamless communication and efficient workflow is paramount. With the proliferation of smartphones, call monitoring software has become a crucial tool for businesses to enhance productivity and security. In this blog post, we delve into the realm of phone tracking apps for Android, shedding light on their importance in employee call monitoring, particularly in regions like Indonesia where VOIP might not be prevalent.

The Need for Cell Tracking without VOIP in Indonesia

Indonesia, like many other countries, faces challenges in adopting Voice Over Internet Protocol Cell tracking without VOIP Indonesia technology due to infrastructural limitations and regulatory concerns. However, the need for effective call monitoring persists, especially for businesses aiming to streamline operations and ensure compliance. This is where phone tracking apps for Android step in, offering a reliable solution for cell tracking without relying on VOIP infrastructure.

Empower Your Business with Employee Call Monitoring Software in India

India, known for its bustling business landscape and diverse industries, requires robust tools to monitor employee communications effectively. employee call monitoring software India emerges as a game-changer, enabling businesses to track and analyze calls seamlessly. Whether it's ensuring adherence to company policies, enhancing customer service, or mitigating security risks, this software serves as a vital asset for businesses across various sectors in India.

the Potential of Call Monitoring Software

Call monitoring software goes beyond mere surveillance; it empowers businesses to unlock insights and optimize performance. By tracking call duration, frequency, and content, companies gain valuable data to improve customer interactions, identify training needs, and detect potential risks. Moreover, the ability to monitor calls in real time enhances security measures, safeguarding sensitive information from unauthorized access or data breaches.

The Benefits of Employee Call Monitoring Software

Investing in employee call monitoring software yields numerous benefits for businesses of all sizes. From enhancing accountability and transparency to improving customer satisfaction and regulatory compliance, the advantages are manifold. By fostering a culture of responsibility and professionalism, businesses can elevate their reputation and gain a competitive edge in the market.

Harness the Power of Call Monitoring Software for Business Success

In conclusion, phone tracking apps for Android and employee call monitoring software offer indispensable tools for businesses seeking to enhance efficiency and security. Whether in Indonesia without VOIP infrastructure or bustling markets like India, these software solutions empower companies to monitor and optimize call activities effectively. By embracing technology-driven solutions, businesses can unlock their full potential and achieve sustained success in today's dynamic business landscape.

Visit us: https://www.salestrail.io/

Location: Brazil

[salestrail0098]

Enhancing Business Efficiency with Advanced Customer Call Tracking and Employee WhatsApp Monitoring

In the fast-paced world of business, effective communication and employee productivity play crucial roles in achieving organizational success. Embracing innovative solutions such as customer call tracking, WhatsApp call recording and secure employee monitoring applications can significantly enhance operational efficiency. In this article, we explore the benefits and features of these tools that contribute to a more streamlined and secure business environment.

Customer Call Tracking: A Window into Customer Interactions

Customer call tracking has become an indispensable tool for businesses aiming to enhance customer service and satisfaction. By utilizing advanced analytics, companies can gain valuable insights into customer interactions employees WhatsApp tracking allowing them to identify trends, improve communication strategies, and address customer needs more effectively. Real-time tracking enables businesses to promptly respond to customer inquiries, leading to increased customer satisfaction and loyalty.

WhatsApp Call Recording: Ensuring Comprehensive Communication Oversight

As communication channels evolve, so does the need for comprehensive monitoring solutions. customer call tracking provides businesses with a powerful tool to monitor and analyze voice communications on this widely used platform. This feature is especially crucial for industries where compliance and documentation are paramount, ensuring that businesses maintain a record of important conversations for legal, training, or quality assurance purposes.

Employees WhatsApp Tracking: Fostering Productivity and Accountability

To boost employee productivity and ensure accountability, businesses are increasingly turning to employees' WhatsApp tracking solutions. Employee’s WhatsApp recording These tools allow employers to monitor the usage patterns of the messaging app, helping identify potential distractions or misuse of company resources. This insight is valuable for optimizing workflow, ensuring compliance with company policies, and fostering a focused and productive work environment.

Employee’s WhatsApp Recording: Balancing Privacy and Security

While monitoring employee communications is essential for business operations, it is equally important to strike a balance between security and privacy. Employee's WhatsApp recording features in secure applications provide a nuanced approach, allowing businesses to capture relevant information without infringing on individual privacy rights. This ensures that sensitive data is protected while still enabling employers to maintain a secure and compliant work environment.

Secure Application to Track Employees: Safeguarding Sensitive Information

The foundation of any monitoring system lies in its security infrastructure. A secure application to track employees should prioritize data encryption, access controls, and compliance with privacy regulations. customer call tracking Businesses can confidently implement these tools knowing that sensitive information is protected, and the monitoring process adheres to legal and ethical standards.

In conclusion, adopting customer call tracking, WhatsApp call recording, and secure employee monitoring applications can significantly contribute to the overall efficiency and security of a business. These tools empower organizations to make informed decisions, enhance customer relations, and create a work environment that balances productivity with privacy. As technology continues to advance, integrating these solutions becomes imperative for businesses seeking to thrive in today's competitive landscape.

[mobistealth]

Cell Phone Tracker Software | Mobistealth

Finding Cell Phone Tracker Software? Mobistealth is the ultimate Cell Phone Tracker platform because it monitors location even when traditional GPS-based applications fail. In addition, Mobistealth provides additional cell phone surveillance tools to help you track and record all activities on mobile devices of kids and employees that you own. Once installed, our comprehensive cell phone tracking software will begin recording all activities and shall send the data to your Mobistealth user account, including both real-time and historical cell phone tracking data.

Visit us: https://www.mobistealth.com/cell-phone-tracker

[projectfoned]

Comprehensive Mobile Phone Diagnostics Software: Boosting Performance and Resolving Issues

Introduction

Mobile phones have become an integral part of our lives, serving as our primary communication tool, entertainment hub, and productivity companion. With the increasing complexity of smartphones, it’s crucial to have reliable mobile phone diagnostics software to ensure optimal performance and troubleshoot any issues that may arise. At Project FoneD, we understand the importance of effective diagnostics, and our comprehensive mobile phone diagnostics software is designed to provide a seamless experience across various devices and platforms.

Enhancing Performance with Mobile Phone Diagnostics Software

In today’s fast-paced digital world, smartphones are expected to deliver top-notch performance. However, over time, your device may start exhibiting sluggishness or encountering unexpected errors. This is where our Mobile Phone Diagnostics Software comes into play, enabling you to identify and resolve performance-related issues efficiently.

iPhone Diagnostics Software: Unleashing the Potential

For iPhone users, our iPhone Diagnostics Software offers an array of features to optimize performance and diagnose any underlying problems. With a user-friendly interface, our software provides detailed insights into your device’s battery health, storage usage, and app performance. It also enables you to monitor system temperature, CPU usage, and network connectivity, ensuring your iPhone operates at its peak.

Android Phone Diagnostics: Unveiling Hidden Potential

Android devices are renowned for their customization options and versatility. To harness the full potential of your Android phone, our Mobile Phone Diagnostics Software for Android offers a comprehensive suite of tools. It allows you to analyze battery performance, identify resource-intensive apps, and optimize storage to free up valuable space. With real-time monitoring, you can keep a close eye on vital system parameters and address any anomalies promptly.

Samsung Phone Diagnostics: Uncompromised Performance

Samsung smartphones are synonymous with cutting-edge technology and innovative features. Our Samsung Phone Diagnostics software complements these devices by providing extensive diagnostic capabilities. You can evaluate battery health, system stability, and RAM usage, ensuring optimal performance throughout your Samsung device’s lifespan. By identifying and resolving potential issues early on, you can prevent unexpected crashes and improve overall user experience.

Apple Diagnostics Software: Empowering Performance

Apple devices, including iPhones, iPads, and Macs, are renowned for their seamless performance and robust hardware. Our Apple Diagnostics Software enhances this experience further by providing deep insights into your device’s diagnostics. From battery optimization to CPU performance analysis, you can fine-tune your Apple device for maximum efficiency. The software also facilitates troubleshooting of network connectivity, ensuring uninterrupted access to the digital world.

Cell Phone Diagnostics Software: A Unified Solution

At Project FoneD, we aim to provide a unified solution for all your mobile phone diagnostics needs. Our comprehensive Cell Phone Diagnostics Software supports a wide range of devices, including iPhones, Android phones, Samsung phones, and Apple devices. Whether you’re a tech-savvy individual or a professional repair technician, our software empowers you with the necessary tools to diagnose and resolve issues efficiently.

Unleash the Potential of Your Mobile Phone

In today’s competitive digital landscape, the performance of your mobile phone can make a significant difference. By leveraging our Mobile Phone Diagnostics Software, you can unleash the full potential of your device. Identify performance bottlenecks, optimize system resources, and troubleshoot issues effectively. With regular diagnostics, you can prolong your device’s lifespan, enhance user experience, and enjoy a seamless mobile journey.

Conclusion

A comprehensive mobile phone diagnostics software is indispensable for both individual users and professionals in the mobile industry. At Project FoneD, we offer powerful and intuitive software solutions tailored for various platforms, including iPhone, Android, Samsung, and Apple devices. By utilizing our diagnostics software, you can optimize performance, detect potential issues, and ensure your mobile phone functions flawlessly. Embrace the power of diagnostics and elevate your mobile experience with Project FoneD’s cutting-edge solutions.

Click below for more details:

[winterspiderpurrs]

"This wouldn't have happened if you hired more competent guys"

Happy sighed, and shook his head.

" I know Nat! But Peter doesn't touch this world much, a full detail of security will draw to much attention to him."

Natasha kept typing away on her laptop, opening and closing the different windows that pop up.

" And what makes you think my little spider went to one of MY clubs?"

" 'Cause as reckless as Peter can be, he knows he is safe with ' Auntie Nat ' so if he is gonna run off to have fun… its gonna be where help is near by."

She zooms in on one of the windows that popped up.

" Got him. Just an hour ago, at the club by the docks. You're lucky that Tony is paranoid about Peter and put in facial recognition software in and that he didn't - дерьмо!"

"What?"

Natasha pulled up another window, then keyed up something on the side and cursed one more time. She opened the draw at her desk, pulled out a silencer. Standing she puts her jacket on and slips the silencer in a pocket.

"We need to get their now. You better call Tony."

Natasha quickly leaves the room, Happy just standing there shocked, he looks at the laptop.

" Aw Hell."

There on the screen was Peter dancing with another guy. A red circle around Peter with a window next to it, displaying his name. The guy he was dancing with. Well he happen to have a circle and a name on it to. ' Winter Soldier'

While Happy rushed to the car to drive them off, Natasha pulled her cell phone out and sent a quick text to a person labeled CAP.

' Asset is grinding up against iron имущество docks NOW. Coming in hot get him out '

She glances up as she heard Tony's voice from Happy's cell phone.

" WHERE THE HELL IS MY KID!?"

This isn't looking good.

[the-hwaelweg]

If the literal writers of the literal show are bringing a fuck-it attitude, I don't see why I can't too. So.

Hwaelweg's Vision of Season 9 That Absolutely Isn't Going to Happen and Is Very Silly but Still Will Somehow Be More Reasonable Than Whatever the Actual Writers Do

Open with a time jump, but surprise bitches, it's backwards this time. We're now between Chim's rousing speech at the firehouse and the let's-shove-all-the-emotional-beats-into-five-minutes montage. (Sorry Eddie, I can't fix the El Paso/Chris situation handling, but we'll get you your juice at least).

Chim's serving as captain, though is finding the job increasingly stressful as Maddie's pregnancy progresses (insert the arc they seemed to be setting up for Maddie about a second pregnancy and her PPD here), and we see Hen stepping up and helping a lot with captainy stuff and realizing maybe she does want it after all.

Buck, Eddie, and Chris are all living together in Bedford Street. (Insert Buddie arc of choice here, though for my vision it's got to result in Buck thinking he needs to move out and looking at places at some point.)

Then the meat of it: Athena is working a case (how? why? listen if the actual writers can't be bothered to care, neither can i) involving a baby mix-up at a local hospital. The mix-up ends up being the "solution" and Athena is somehow reminded of the woman's case from 8.16 (maybe she runs into her somewhere). She reopens the case and manages to discover that there was a mix-up at the hospital ten years ago. So Mom B did steal the baby and set the fire, but it was her biological baby to begin with, hence passing the DNA test (maybe even why she stole the baby to begin with, she found out it was her bio kid).

Meanwhile, this whole episode, Athena's been getting weird phone calls, just sort of crackly static, can't make out what they're saying. Or hey, maybe even calls that her cell says are from Bobby's phone, which is when she realizes she never got Bobby's phone returned to her.

End of the first ep, we get this dead kid storyline resolved (again and properly) and at the very end, Athena gets another call, only in this one it's very clearly Bobby's voice just saying her name before the line goes dead again.

Episode 2 we have an actual parallel to 8.16, redeeming it from it's position of worst episode in the history of television. Athena thinks at first she's going crazy, but she gets more of these calls where she can kind of hear Bobby and starts to think he's actually alive; when she tries to get the 118 on board, they start to think she's finally crashing out from grief, but eventually she convinces them. Maddie is able to triangulate a call with special call center software magic, and they find out he's being held at some sort of government lab/hospital.

Insert, I don't know, some sort of heist/confrontation/storming the bastille with the end result being we find out Bobby's alive, possibly with amnesia of some sort, doesn't remember who he is but does remember Athena. But there was some sort of mix-up on the government's end with him and someone else, who did die, which is the body they sent Athena to bury. Also he's being kept underground with shitty cell service and he has to keep sneaking phone charge somehow, which is why the calls were so weird.

Then the rest of the season we get the montage moments and previously set-up character plotlines played out. I do think it makes sense Athena sold the house pre-S9; that's one of the few things that worked for me in that montage, so we'll leave that as is. But we get Maddie's pregnancy. We get Mara's adoption (which is it's whole own episode). We get a Buddie arc, where Buck thinks he needs to look for a new place but Eddie CHOOSES to ask him to stay (my god let this man choose something). Since this is my headcanon, we get Eddie and Chris having a conversation at the very least about the whole El Paso situation (though I also maintain that whole thing was so stupid, I'm not sure what I'd even want that convo to be [even if El Paso was a beautiful font of fic for me]). Ravi gets an arc. Bobby decides to retire (or stay retired, given that he was legally dead); most of Bobby's shenanigans revolve around trying to get legally declared NOT dead. As Maddie's due date approaches, Chim decides to step down as captain, and Hen decides to accept the role this time (listen, I do think Chim would be a good captain, but not at the expense of Hen). Also Hen gets a whole other arc, something that doesn't involve the trauma of losing/almost losing her kids OR someone dying on her watch.

Then depending on timing, Maddie gives birth either at the mid-season finale or season finale and we get that final piece of the montage, only this time we find out Bobby's parking the car or something, which is why Athena walks in alone. The baby's probably still named Bobby, but dear lord we're dropping the "Nash" as a middle name. Please, he's only just been born, let's not tie so many lodestones around his neck so soon!

[fluentmoviequoter]

Accidental CI

Pairing: David "Deacon" Kay x fem!reader

Summary: When your employer's name comes up in a case, your best friend Deacon calls to ask for your help. He leads you into a dangerous situation, and you come out as more than friends.

Warnings: r works an unspecified corporate job, mentions weapon trafficking and guns, threats, mostly fluff!

Word Count: 3.1k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Deacon Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Hi, Deac,” you greet as you open the door.

“How was work?” he asks.

“It was fine. My boss forgot to start a software update last night so we didn’t have computer access until after lunch.”

“So, you got paid to sit there and do nothing?”

“Which isn’t that much different than most days,” you tease. “What about you? Any crazy calls?”

You lead Deacon into your kitchen, and his smile widens when he sees dinner waiting on your counter. He pulls you into a quick hug before telling you about his day at work.

“No injuries?” you ask softly.

“No injuries,” he assures. “What about you; any paper cuts that need tending to?”

“Just mental injuries for me. Our financial statements aren’t aligning like they should and if it’s not fixed by the next audit, someone’s getting in trouble.”

“What do you think caused it?”

“Oversight or adding the same bill twice, I’d guess. But I think we should talk about something more exciting than my future IRS investigation.”

“Then let’s talk about that amazing dinner over there and I’ll remind you that Luca wants to have a cooking competition with you.”

Deacon has been your best friend since he moved in next door. You also harbor an ever-growing crush on him. When you saw him climb out of the moving truck the first day, you knew you wanted to be close. He’s got a stressful job, so if you can give him a break and a friend, that’s what you’ll do.

Deacon watches the screen in the situation room as Hondo explains the corporate espionage turned weapon trafficking case. It's a strange move, going from stealing trade secrets to transporting illegal weapons across borders and into areas with strict gun control laws. Metro found a lot of evidence, but when they located the weapons supply in their prime suspect’s corporate office, they called in 20 Squad.

“Wait, go back. Who’s the suspect?” Deacon asks.

His eyes search the monitor as Hondo returns to a page of surveillance photos.

“Elwin Dupree. You know him?” Hondo responds.

“Not personally, but I know someone who works for him.”

“CI?” Chris guesses.

“No. She might be willing to help, though.”

“Call her,” Hondo says.

Hicks adds, “Otherwise, we’re going in blind. Metro has intel but it’s not enough to avoid an ambush.”

Deacon nods and walks out of the room. He presses a contact from his favorites list before raising his phone to his ear.

“Remind me why we work here?” your desk neighbor, whom you lovingly call Nola, says as she sits across from you.

“Because the pay is good… and we’re desperate,” you offer, smiling as you accept your favorite drink.

“May I remind you that Dupree is an idiot who can’t even remember what he asks us to do?”

“Just smile and go with it, Nola, it’s the easiest way to handle it.”

“The man called me into his office yesterday, and then didn’t know why I was there,” she whispers.

“That’s probably a good thing for you. Considering your nickname is based off of your reply of no; lazy.”

“I am lazy! So, I don’t like to do things. He can fire me whenever he wants.”

You roll your eyes and prepare to reply but are interrupted by your cell phone ringing. You apologize to Nola before you answer it.

“Hey, it’s me,” Deacon says on the other end of the line.

“Indeed, it is. What’s going on?” you reply.

“How do you know something is going on?”

“It’s mid-morning on a weekday. And you never call me.”

“I call you all the time!” Deacon argues.

You laugh before you say, “Not when you’re at work.”

“Okay, fine, you’re right. Listen, we’re working on something, and your boss’s name came up.”

“Dupree?” you inquire. “Why?”

“I can’t tell you exactly what we’re looking into, but Hondo and Hicks wanted to know if you’d be willing to help us.”

“Of course. Tell me what to do,” you agree.

“Can you come down here?”

“Uh, yeah,” you answer. You open the calendar on your computer and add, “I can spare an hour and a half, is that enough time?”

“Absolutely. Thank you,” Deacon says.

“Anything for you.”

You hang up and gather your things before standing.

“Where are you off to? Please tell me you’re leaving to go on a date with the hot neighbor you always talk about,” Nola whispers.

“Not today. There was a slight mishap for some of our paperwork. I have to run to another office and get everything sorted out,” you lie. “I’ll have my cell if you need anything.”

“Dodging bullets left and right, aren’t you? Go ahead, I’ll watch your phone and fill in Dupree if he notices you’re gone.”

“Thanks, Nola.”

When you park outside the station, your thoughts begin spiraling. You sit in your seat and wonder if you made the right decision. Will you be in Deacon’s way or be too distracted by him to even help? What if something happens to him while you’re with him? What if he-

A tap on your window draws you from your questions. You turn your head and see Deacon looking at you through the glass. You send him a small smile as he opens your door and bends to look at you. His head tilts to this side, and when he lowers to a squat, his brown eyes distract you as he looks up at you.

“You okay? You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he says gently.

“No, I want to. Just- I was thinking too much, I guess,” you reply.

Deacon nods and stands before offering his hand to help you out of your seat. He closes the door and ensures it’s locked before moving his hand to your back to lead you inside.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Hondo,” Hondo says as you enter.

You shake Hondo’s hand and introduce yourself as you follow him further into the station. He doesn’t waste any time as he begins explaining as much as he can about how your boss is involved in the case they’re working.

“We’d like to send you in the get additional details on the office and any other information you can find,” Hondo says. “We’ve got basic floor plans, but we need insider info.”

“She can’t go in alone,” Deacon argues. “We don’t know what he has in that office. If she starts asking questions and he gets suspicious-“

You cut Deacon off by laying a hand on his shoulder and asking, “What if you go in with me? It wouldn’t be that hard for me to lie about who you are; Dupree doesn’t know most of the people who work in the building. Plus, you know what to look for better than I do.”

Hondo looks at Deacon and waits for his reply. You feel Deacon sigh against your hand before agreeing to go into the office with you.

“There’s an employee entrance without metal detectors, but you have to swipe a keycard,” you explain. “They’ll know if you piggyback with me.”

“Our techs can make him a keycard,” Hondo assures. “If you have yours, they can copy parts of it.”

You nod and pass your card to Hondo. He turns and gives it to a passing officer with a few short instructions. Deacon pats your arm as he leaves to change; his uniform isn’t business casual, but he said he'd find something more fitting.

“20 Squad is going to be close by,” Hondo begins. “Deacon can say a word and we’ll be inside, but if you need help and get separated from Deacon, try to get to a window. Signaling for help is easiest with this; just keep it in your pocket or your hand and press the button if you need us.”

You accept the small device and slide it into your pocket. It’s invisible, and you nod as Hondo reassures you everything will be okay.

“I know you can’t tell me what exactly Dupree is doing, but you’re going to catch him, right?” you ask softly.

“Absolutely. Nobody can run from S.W.A.T.”

You scan your keycard and wait for Deacon to do the same before opening the door. The employee entrance is on the side of the building, and you smooth your hands over your hips nervously. When you feel the device Hondo gave you, you relax slightly.

“We’ll walk to my desk, look at a few papers, and then go in?” you suggest as Deacon gestures for you to enter.

“Sounds good,” he agrees.

“The suit looks good,” you mumble as you walk toward the elevator.

Deacon chuckles as the elevator door opens, and you smile as he shakes his head at your flattery. The elevator is quiet, and as you wait to arrive on your floor, you take a few deep breaths. Deacon’s hand finds your lower back, and he rubs small, comforting circles before the door opens.

“Still working on the paperwork issue?” Nola asks when you reach your desk.

“Yeah, we are. This is Ryan from the Santa Monica branch,” you say.

Nola’s eyes narrow at you before she looks at Deacon’s hand. He’s close to you, like always, but you don’t understand her look. You raise your brows, but she only shrugs before looking back at her computer.

“Was it this one?” you ask Deacon.

He takes the blank form from your hand and nods. “Yes, this is the one.”

You return the paper to its rightful place on your desk before leading Deacon down another hallway. Nola’s reaction confused you at first, yet you’re not surprised when Deacon gently grabs your hip to stop you in the hallway.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“It’s fine. Just stay calm and remember our covers. Like you said, Dupree won’t know any difference,” Deacon soothes. “And the team’s waiting for our signal if we need them.”

You nod, and Deacon’s hands raise to your shoulders as he drops his chin to look into your eyes.

“You got this,” he promises.

“I need to discuss an urgent matter with Mr. Dupree,” you inform his secretary. “This is Mr. Ryan Davidson from the Santa Monica branch. There have been some discrepancies with paperwork submitted to their office, which needs Mr. Dupree’s immediate attention.”

His secretary raises the receiver of her desk phone and whispers into it. You turn to look at Deacon, and he tilts his head to the left to signal you to stay calm and wait.

“You can go on in,” the secretary says as she lowers the phone.

Deacon opens the door for you, and you step inside first.

“Hello,” Mr. Dupree greets. He doesn’t pretend to remember your name, you notice. “I heard there’s an issue with some paperwork?”

“Yes, sir,” Deacon says. “I’m Ryan Davidson with the Santa Monica office and we’ve been having issues; receiving incomplete or incorrect paperwork from this branch.”

“My sincerest apologies, Ryan. If you don’t mind, use that laptop there and sign into your account while I bring mine up. We’ll get this sorted.”

You stand back as Deacon walks to the table at the back of the office and opens the laptop. Mr. Dupree didn’t shake his hand, ask for identification, or take other proper steps before jumping to help. It’s suspicious, but probably not what Deacon and his team need.

“What kind of incorrect information have you seen?” Mr. Dupree asks. You open your mouth to answer, and he adds, “Ryan?”

“Financial statements that aren’t matching previous months, for one. Most likely an oversight or adding the same bill twice. Nothing too extreme, just something we need sorted before the end-of-year audits,” Deacon answers.

You raise your eyebrows in surprise at his response. He practically repeated a complaint you shared during your last dinner together.

“Very well. I don’t know why the system is moving so slowly,” Dupree responds. He moves his hand under his desk as Deacon types.

You watch Dupree because Deacon’s team is getting him the access he needs. When you see the handle of a gun gripped in Dupree’s hand, you call, “Gun!” and drop to the floor just before he shoots above your head.

Deacon pulls his own weapon and points it at Dupree as he demands, “Put the gun down. I’m Sergeant Kay, L.A.P.D. S.W.A.T.”

As Deacon speaks, you slowly press your back against the side of Dupree’s desk, where he can’t see you. Deacon’s eyes are on Dupree, but you watch Deacon because you trust him to keep you safe.

“I could put it down,” Dupree says. “But if I angle it like this and pull the trigger, wouldn’t it hit your little friend?”

Deacon glances at you quickly, and you lock eyes before you shift away from the oversized desk.

“One more time: drop the gun,” Deacon repeats.

You can’t see Dupree, but you clap your hands over your ears as you hear two shots. Everything goes quiet, and you lean forward slowly to look for Deacon. He kneels before you and gently pulls your hands away from your head. You let him move you before surging forward to hug him. He welcomes you into his arms as footsteps echo in the hallway outside.

“It’s okay. We got him,” Deacon promises.

You nod against Deacon and allow him to help you stand. Deacon keeps you angled away from Dupree’s desk, and you’re happy to avoid looking.

“Did you get everything you need?” you ask quietly as Street and Luca lead a paramedic inside.

“We did. Are you okay?”

Deacon lays a hand on your shoulder, and his thumb presses gently into your tense muscles as he looks into your eyes.

“Get her out of here. Hondo said you can take the rest of the day. Maybe she can practice for the competition,” Luca calls.

“I think you need the practice more than me,” you reply without turning.

Luca laughs as Deacon wraps an arm around your shoulders and leads you out of the office. He takes you back to your desk to get your things, and Nola rushes to hug you when you enter the open area.

“I heard the shots and was so worried!” she exclaims. “You’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” you promise.

 “Then I need you to do something. Go home and ask your neighbor out. Don’t wait too long,” she says.

You nod and return to Deacon’s side. He heard everything from where he was standing, yet doesn’t comment as he helps you into the passenger seat of his car. Once you’re on the road, he fills the silence by asking you questions about what you will cook for your competition with Luca. You know he’s trying to distract you from what happened, and you appreciate it.

Back at the station, you sign some paperwork to receive CI benefits before walking to Deacon’s side. He offers to drive you home and keep you company, which you happily accept. You never like leaving Deacon and don’t want to be alone tonight.

“I waited too long,” Deacon murmurs while walking you out.

You stop and turn to face him as you ask, “For what?”

“What your friend said. I waited too long to ask you out.”

You smile and slide your hand into his. “Did you know that Nola looked at us like that because you were standing really close to me?" Deacon shrugs, and you explain, “I never shut up about you, Deac. I’m in love with you, so she was confused about why I was standing so close to another man.”

“Never?” Deacon repeats playfully.

“You didn’t wait too long, Deac,” you promise.

“I didn’t?”

“Not if you take your chance right now.”

Deacon looks around quickly before yelling, “Hicks! Did you file it yet?”

“No; I’m busy, Deacon,” Hicks answers.

“Can you make her Hondo’s CI?”

Hicks looks between the two of you and rolls his eyes. “Yes, I can.”

When Deacon turns back to you, he doesn’t give you time to speak before he asks, “Will you go out with me?”

“Nothing would make me happier,” you answer.

Your smile grows to match Deacon’s, but he makes it disappear when he pulls you in and kisses you. The sound of clapping makes you open your eyes as you pull back. Hondo leads 20 Squad in a round of applause, and you bury your face in Deacon’s chest to hide your grin and burning embarrassment.

“My CI’s never end up like this,” Hondo jokes.

“Pretty good timing, though, wasn’t it?” Deacon asks as he wraps his arms around you.

You stand wordlessly from the couch and walk past Deacon. He turns to watch you as you enter your bathroom and close the door. It only takes a moment for him to decide to follow you.

“Are you okay?” Deacon asks from outside the door. “And don’t just say you’re fine. We both know you’re not.”

You open the door and lean against the vanity as he walks in. “I feel bad that you had to shoot Dupree. I know he’s fine and he’ll recover, pay for him crimes, and everything. But you probably wouldn’t have done that if I wasn’t there.”

“Don’t think like that. If he had refused to drop the gun or fired again, I would have stopped him. Whether you were there or not. The only thing that was different was how fast I decided to do it; he was threatening you, but that didn’t affect my reaction itself.”

You nod, and Deacon places his hands on the vanity, caging you and keeping you close. “Don’t carry that guilt around,” he requests. “It gets heavy quickly.”

You slip your arms under Deacon’s to circle his waist. Because of your position, you look up at him and ask, “Could I have another kiss to help me overcome all of this guilt?”

Deacon laughs as his hand raises to rub your back. “Anything for my accidental CI.”

“I’m Hondo’s CI,” you remind him.

“But I’m the one that gets to kiss you, so who has the better timing?”

You let your kiss answer the question, and when Deacon pulls you against him to be even closer, you know that the wait was worth it. Though you probably won’t agree to go into the office of a weapon trafficker with him again, you will always be ready to help him when he asks and comfort him when he can’t. Despite how much you loved Deacon when you thought you could only be friends, you feel more love now that you know he feels the same.

[indiaphpexpert]

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[samueldays]

To quote @morlock-holmes who blocked me so I can't reblog his post, imagine if you bought a pocket calculator at the store in 1980, and then in 1981 Texas Instruments sent you a letter saying, "The terms of use for our calculator have changed, in order to use the calculator you agree to waive any right to a jury trial or class action suit against Texas Instruments or any of its parents or subsidiaries. Continued use of the calculator constituted a binding agreement to these terms. If you do not agree you must immediately stop all use of your pocket calculator. No refund will be provided."

Seriously, writing that out really made it strike me even more how utterly abusive the modern age is to consumers.

The EULA, or End User License Agreement is a binding contract which one party may unilaterally change at any time for any reason and in any way they choose; the counterparty may not negotiate or change the terms of the contract and their only remedy in the case of changes that they don't like is to withdraw entirely from the contract.

Such contracts govern all use of software, which, since software governs the majority of our lives, mean that they now govern the majority of our lives.

Want to order a pizza? Better send the legal contract with the pizza company to the lawyer you keep on retainer and after looking over the documents he'll advise you on the legal ramifications of the pizza transaction.

Oh, you don't keep a lawyer on hand to advise you about ordering pizza or playing video games?

Well, then you can't complain if you don't like something buried in page 20 of the contract you signed with the pizza delivery company.

One of the massively dehumanizing things bureacracy does is demand something that is in practice impossible, like, "Keep a lawyer on retainer to scrutinize the terms of every pizza delivery contract, video rental, major appliance, and video game you interact with." and then condescendingly tell you,

"Well, if you don't do something as simple as that, whatever happens next is *your fault* and blaming someone else shows a weakness in your character."

One of the confounding problems if you want to argue with people who have some kind of luddite leanings is that, well, new technology feels nowadays like an imposition from hostile forces who know that they have you over the barrel because, uh, it is that thing. It is deliberately designed to be that thing.

I like having a cell phone. I hate waiving my right to a jury or to participate in a class action lawsuit. I would pay more, as a consumer, for a phone contract that did not have a binding arbitration clause. I couldn't find one.

So I decided that owning a phone was the lesser of two evils, and that will now be treated as a free choice which I have no right to complain about.

After all, if I wanted the right to join a class action suit I could simply forgo phone service and conduct all communications by the post.

And since I am allowed to choose whether I wish to have legal rights or a telephone, I am not allowed to complain about missing one or the other. After all, *I agreed* to give one of those things up :) :) :) :)

I think this move towards mass abuse of consumers really is one of the more underrated factors in, say, modern American politics.

[uhohdad]

EXPERIMENTAL - Konig Fic Part 2

Summary: Konig helps Researcher!Reader with a new technology they’ve been developing.

Part one: X

AO3 Link: X

Warnings: Flirting, Sexual Content, NSFW, Reader x Konig, talk of standard war stuff, Reader is a bit of a pervert. Non-con Voyeurism. Reader has anxious thoughts/low-self esteem-ish? No use of y/n, abduction, bondage, blood and injury.

Word Count: 7.2k

Reader gender/sex is incomprehensible cause I do it for the girls, the gays, and the theys

NSFW under the cut

It probably didn’t mean anything, right?

How common is your name, really? He probably was just thinking about his girlfriend or wife at home who just happens to share the same name as you, the same wife he didn’t happen to mention during your introductions - even if it would have been a really good icebreaker.

Yeah, that’s it.

It couldn’t have been about you.

Could it?

Your thoughts are spiraling now, not giving yourself the room to dissect one detail before your brain throws another at you. You still haven’t moved, wide eyes watching warm light reflect on his skin as he basks in post-orgasm bliss.

He’s still for a while, and you’re wondering if the finish had tired him out enough to lull him into a nap.

After a few minutes of watching the rise and fall of his chest, you decide the show was over and closed out of the software. There was some part of you, some part you’d hoped wouldn’t ever come to light, that decided to keep his feed connected.

You’ve crossed so many lines already. In for a penny, in for a pound, right?

You feel like you’ve ruined whatever chance you’ve had with him, violating his privacy like this. This was a man that wasn’t even comfortable showing his face, how did you think he was going to feel knowing a stranger has not only seen him fully naked but watched him jerk his cock to completion?

He doesn’t have to know. No one has to know. It’ll be our little secret and we’ll just pretend it never happened.

Yeah, you acted real casual today when you hadn’t done a horrible, awful, perverted thing. I’m sure you’ll act real casual the next time you have to look him in the eyes.

Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!

You rest your head on your keyboard not-so-gently, accidentally booting up an ancient mail software that was sure to kick your laptop’s fans into overdrive. An audible groan leaves your mouth.

Who knew non-consensual voyeurism would leave such a horrific feeling of guilt in the pit of your stomach?

That and the arousal that sits right underneath. Your underwear now had a wet stain from watching the show, unconsciously rubbing your thighs together as you had.

There was no way you were going to be able to focus on work now. You had been planning on staying late, but there’s no way you can analyze today’s data. Review his feed. Replay your conversations. Hear his breathing…

No, you just can’t do it right now. It’s too much.

You do a quick round of the lab, performing a sloppy iteration of your closing procedures, pack up your things, and head out for the day.

Before you do, you decide you might as well round out the horrific deed by doing one last terrible thing.

You pair your personal cell phone to the software and send yourself the erotic recording of Konig.

You’ll start fresh tomorrow, you decide.

————————————————————-

You most certainly did not start fresh tomorrow.

The next few days are a vicious cycle.

Go to work. Review Konig’s simulation footage. Fantasize. Feel guilty. Review raw data. Think about Konig touching himself. Feel aroused. Feel guilty. Rewrite codes. Go home. Watch erotic recording. Feel aroused. Get off.

Feel guilty.

Feel guilty.

Feel guilty.

You can’t help it. You’re out of control, an addict desperate to get their fix, ashamed of their actions but lacking the willpower to quit.

How are you supposed to stop thinking about him when all day at work you’re watching him fight his way through the shoot house, strong hands gripping his gun, and hearing to that laugh?

How can you go home and ignore the recording of him finishing while moaning your name?

You must have replayed it a thousand times. He moaned it like he was begging you, pleading with you. Such a powerful man choking on your name. Even after a full week had passed, it still had the power to excite you in ways you haven’t felt in ages.

Your next meeting with Konig was scheduled for today and if you had to judge solely by the feeling in your gut, you would’ve guessed you had eaten rocks for breakfast. Your brain tells you to flee and fast but your body is promised to these four walls. Your leg bounces as you pick at the fingers that beg for something to do besides type code.

You wanted to call it off. Tell Konig you weren’t feeling well and you’d try again next week. Or maybe hit the bricks entirely. Just walk out of the building and never look back. Forget about everything.

You’re reconsidering your career choices as a steady knock on the lab’s swinging door rips you from your thoughts.

Your wince before you look up, quickly plastering what you hope is a convincing smile on your face.

He catches your eyes through the glass and you notice them crinkle, unable to place an emotion to it. You’d been dreading this moment all week. Even going so far as to avoid looking at his live feed after the incident, just in case you weren’t able to feign the natural responses of hearing his recounts for the ‘first’ time. That in addition to the intrapersonal understanding that you couldn’t handle carrying anymore guilt-rocks in your stomach.

Looking him in the eyes was as hard as you imagined it to be. He pushes open the door and steps in, standing hesitantly near the entrance like he did last week. You notice he has a notepad in one hand, and it looks so comically small compared to his size. Like a giant holding a sticky note. In the other he holds your earpiece in an open palm, as if hesitant to wrap his fingers around it.

It doesn’t help that the first word that left his mouth as he entered the lab was your name. Flashbacks to his sweaty body, shuddering in pleasure as he came all over his rippling muscles grab your attention.

He had followed it up with something, but you had been too distracted to catch it. You close your eyes, touching your hand to your forehead.

You were not doing a very good job hiding your fluster.

“I’m so sorry- what’d you say?” You give a small laugh, partly to ease the tension in your chest and partly at the situation itself. It’s not funny, you know that. It’s terrible. So terribly ridiculous that you can’t help but laugh at yourself for getting yourself into this mess. Your hand follows through the rest of your hair in an effort to soothe yourself before falling back down at your side.

“Good to see you.” He repeats, tilting his head, taking just a few careful steps closer to you. His eyes dart to the side briefly before returning to you, “Is everything okay?”

You give another weak laugh, “Yeah, sorry. Just still in the zone.” You gesture vaguely at scattered papers and devices on the table. You don’t give him a chance to pry further, “How was it?”

He takes a moment to eye you carefully, and you are sure he’s about to call your bluff before he responds, “Remarkable.”

You swallow, breaking eye contact with him again. It’s always been hard for you to accept a compliment. You're hoping he doesn’t notice the warmth creeping up your cheeks, but you know you have absolutely no right to such a request after what you’ve done.

He clears his throat before he continues, “I promised you I would have feedback. It wasn’t easy.” He holds his notepad up briefly as he steps up to the table to carefully set it down along with your earpiece. You can see from across the table he’s got a few scribbled sentences spaced out on the notepad. You take note of his sloppy handwriting from across the table, before realizing he didn’t write in English.

He looks down at his notes and you’re thankful you have something to stare at that’s not Konig’s eyes or intimidating frame. You’re trying hard not to think about the body filling out his gear. You’ve grown so accustomed to seeing him naked that it’s almost strange to see him with his uniform on.

You can tell he takes a deep breath before continuing and you wonder briefly if he’s nervous about sharing his feedback, worried he will hurt your feelings. “You mentioned before that it scans objects?” The end of his sentence lifts, almost like he’s asking you a question, “I think it would be good to make sure that the user is always made aware of landmines. I’m positive it will save lives.”

“Yes, absolutely. That’s a great idea.” You nod as you jot his ideas down on your laptop, a reminder to update your code.

You’re happy to be talking shop. Even happier to be talking about defensive designs instead of offensive ones.

The way he rubs his bicep with his opposing hand triggers a realization. You finally look at his eyes, his still staring down at his notes, and watch him for a moment.

The idea didn’t come from thin air.

You wonder what he saw, what traumatic memories are being replayed behind the downcast eyes to inspire such an idea.

You feel an ache in your chest for him, the desire to alienate his discomfort but unequipped to do so. Instead you look at him, your eyes swollen with sympathy and the corner of your mouth pinched in a frown.

He takes a moment before looking back up at you. He notices your warped expression but misinterprets it, “Am I overstepping?”

Your voice is low and you press a hand to your heart, “No, Konig, not at all. This is very helpful.” You’re not sure what else to say to him. What do you say to a man haunted by the violence he’s witnessed?

The only thing you can do is make sure it doesn’t happen again.

You’re not working for the government anymore, you decided. You’re going to work for Konig. To tailor your device with the purpose to save and protect him.

So you stick to the topic at hand. “Any other ideas?” You ask, voice still soft with empathy as you glance down at the notes written in German.

“Uh,” He clears his throat again and touches the back of his neck over his hood, the fabric pulling a bit on the front, “Sometimes when we’re in the heat of things, I can’t always get to my remote.” He gestured to the band on his wrist. “Do you think it would be possible to have voice command?”

Your brain’s mulling over the possibility. You’re surprised you haven’t thought of it yet. You could eliminate the remote entirely, you’re sure your supervisor will be elated with the big savings on material costs. The earpiece already has a microphone for the comm, it wouldn’t be hard for you to configure it to an additional feature.

“Absolutely, voice control. That’s clever.” Your brain is already running with alternatives to the wrist remote as you type his ideas, “Do you go on a lot of missions that require stealth?” It’s easier to make eye contact with him when you’re discussing work. He nods, and you continue, “In addition to voice command, I could also add hand controls, able to identify and respond to the signal you give it - totally silent.” You tap your fingers on the table twice, “The only draw I can think of is having to memorize control signals.”

He thinks it over for a moment and shifts in his spot, “That’s even better.”

“I think it’ll be best to have both.” Your keyboard clicks under your fingers as you enter the ideas coming to you faster than you can get them down.

This is great. I’m not even thinking about-

Stop it.

“These are great, Konig, really. Anything else?”

Your encouragement makes him look away. You follow his stare as it darts to the side and then down to his notes. He places one hand on the table next to the notepad as he leans his weight onto it.

You briefly picture yourself between him and the table, his arm pinning you in as he towers over you, hunched to watch you like you’re his prey, chests so close they’re almost touching.

You quickly push the thought to the side, moving your attention back to your laptop. The only way to survive this meeting is to repress.

Repress your memories of what he looks like with his cock in his hand, arching his hips into the thrusts. Repress the sound of his moans and your name echoing clearly in your brain. Repress the guilt from the breach of privacy to the highest degree.

Please, just until we get through this.

You close your eyes and take a breath to collect yourself while he’s not looking.

He’s got other things written on the notepad, you’re sure. Unless the two ideas he’d already pitched managed to take up the whole page. “No.”

Your brows furrow, the question leaving your mouth without thought, “You’re sure?”

He pauses. You can tell he’s sitting on a thought, but you don’t know what.

“It’s okay. Like I said, it’s just a prototype. You won’t hurt my feelings.”

He straightens his posture before he speaks, “No. That was all I could think of.” He swallows, “If you feel I didn’t make good on my promise, I can fix it.”

“No, no!” You say with urgency, a hand shaking in his direction, “Those ideas you gave me were perfect. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t holding back on me.” A weak laugh escapes you. “I can’t stress how helpful this has been. I’m glad we’re doing this.”

Konig looks at you, those intimidating eyes staring at you from across the table. You wish you could see his face, hoping it would give some insight on what was going through his head. Even if you could you don’t think you’d be able to maintain eye contact.

He knows.

No, he doesn’t, shut up.

“I’ll keep thinking.” He says definitively, like he’s trying to right a wrong.

“You’ve only had it for a week,” you reassure, “Besides, you’ve given me plenty to work with.” You force a smile at him, not even caring how it’s coming off because you’re just hoping not to choke on the tension suffocating the room. You wonder if he feels it too, or if it’s all in your head.

He nods, and you look to your laptop in a futile attempt to thwart the dread suddenly pooling in your stomach. You’re reminded of what you’ve done when he crosses his arms, and your eyes are drawn to the same bicep on the arm that he used to pleasure himself. You’re picturing how it looks under his uniform, comparing it to your filthy reference. Your heart quickens and you can’t help but take in his build, even from across the long lab table. You feel extra small sitting on your stool while he stands, arms still crossed, staring.

The air between you two is definitely weird. Him getting off to probably-not-you and you watching but him not knowing that you know will certainly fill the room with a tension unlike any other.

These drawn-out silences are smothering you, not knowing what goes on being his hood.

He looks disappointed in you.

He knows.

“How can I help you in the meantime?”

You can’t help but breathe a small sigh of relief. You were planning on taking him back out to shoot house, running a few more simulations, and having him give feedback on a few more overlays.

You scrap that plan, looking forward to expanding on his ideas while your synapses are still firing.

“Well, here’s my thoughts so far. Landmine identification, the coding for that will be easy. The device already has the scanning capability for obscured objects. All I have to do is enable the specific object for full-time recognition. The hard part will be testing. I’ll have to meet with weapons development to develop prop landmines for simulation.”

You glance at the notes on your laptop, “Voice control - easy. Mic’s already installed and all I would have to do is add speech-to-text recognition, repurpose the wrist control coding, and then…testing.” Your hand finds the side of your face as you think it over, “Well, I may need to sample voice lines from you and a couple of your friends…” You loosely gesture with the same hand as you continue, “But there may be workarounds to that. Put a pin in that.” You’re on a roll now, “Now the hand controls - that might be more complicated. I’m thinking I’ll have to start fresh with the hardware.” You look up, “Then again… it already has the scanning capacity. I could probably just teach the current model with software alone. But the coding will take some time to figure out.”

Your eyes find him again. He’s staring and as per usual you can’t decipher it.

“Y’know,” you continue with a smile, “You could help me come up with hand signals?”

He nods.

He doesn’t give you much to work with, does he?

“I’ll need references of your hands. To teach the AI, is that okay?”

He looks down in a way that makes you feel so, so ashamed. If he is hesitant about recordings of just his gloved hands, how would he feel if he found out about what you did? About the video living on your phone?

After a moment he looks back up at you, “I’ll do it.” His voice is stern as usual, always treating everything with importance, with determination.

You give him another shaky smile, “Might be awhile. Wanna sit?”

He pulls up a stool to his end of the table and you instruct him to put his earpiece on as you return to your software on the laptop, trying not to trigger the memory of the last time you watched his feed. You pretend to resync your devices, glad he can’t see your screen. A wave of shame washes over you.

You’re both collaborating for some time, you offering a prompt and him stiffly coming up with a corresponding hand command. You supervise his feed, having him tilt his hands so the AI has references from multiple angles.

The rest of the meeting is professional and you manage to steady your obsessive thoughts as best you can. It’s hard to observe his hands and not think about the video, about what you watched those same hands do.

About how those hands would feel mapping all of the curves of your body.

How they would feel gripping onto your hips as you rode him.

How they would feel sneaking up your thighs, teasing you.

Somehow, you make it.

Once you decide you’ve covered enough references, Konig heads out, and you hope to continue staving off your thoughts by wasting no time on incorporating his ideas into your design. You’re hoping to have a least one rough draft done before next week’s meeting, so you plan on hunkering down and forfeit your Friday night to work overtime.

—————————————————————-

It’s late in the evening, you can tell by how your eyes are burning, strained from staring at your bright screen. You don’t bother to check the actual time. It would just bum you out. Spending your Friday night working. Not that you would have been doing anything partially exciting if you hadn’t. You probably would have just spent your evening analyzing footage anyway, just of a more perverted genre.

When you finally call it quits, the base is barren. Everyone’s gone home or retired to their quarters by now. It’s quiet after the base door shuts behind you, automatic locks clicking into place.

You’re feeling better after today’s meeting with Konig. Somewhere in the previous week you’d convinced yourself that he knew, that at any moment he was going to report you, and at any moment security would bust in the lab to escort you out.

Seeing him again, even though you couldn’t always figure out what he was thinking, reassured you that he hadn’t somehow telepathically figured out your terrible deed. You don’t think he would have bothered to keep helping you, or even be able to look at you without disgust if he did know.

The meeting also re-sparked your feelings of arousal and excitement. The knot in your lower abdomen made its presence known again. So much more desirable than the spiraling guilt. You’ve come to lean into the highs, enjoying it while you can, knowing soon you’ll be feeling nauseous at the thought of yourself.

You don’t know how much longer you can take the rollercoaster. This week has been exhausting. You can’t believe you’ve allowed this man to root himself into your life, seeping into every facet.

Career, personal, sexual, and - well, you’re still in denial about the romantic feelings - but it’s incredibly impressive how this man was capable of fucking your entire life up for the small price of a couple of hours and a few exchanged words.

When you finally get to the privacy of your home, you let out an audible groan. Loud enough to carry but quiet enough to not disturb the neighbors. You just needed to let something out, it was getting frustrating.

You didn’t want to think anymore, you didn’t want to think!

“Long day at work?”

You freeze, and the sound of heavy footsteps fill your ears. Two armed soldiers with fully equipped gear stride from the depth of your home, meeting you at the entrance.

The sight of them alone is enough to intimidate you. You instinctively back against the locked door, your trunk obscuring a hand moving towards the doorknob.

“Tsk, tsk. I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”The taller of the two soldiers wears a black balaclava with a skull stitched in, his unimpressed stare drilling into you. You hear a click, and your wide eyes lock on to the gun in his hands, pointing right at your core.

You slowly release the doorknob, raising your shaking hands so they could see your palms.

“That’s good babe,” The other soldier speaks, but you’re too busy staring down the barrel of the gun to worry about it.

“I have to admit I’m a little upset with you,” Skull-face, as you appropriately nicknamed him, speaks as his eyes bore into you, “You kept us waiting a long time.”

He’s got some sort of thick accent laced into his grave voice, they both do, actually, but you’re too busy trying not to piss your pants to be able to place the region of origin.

A lump forms in your throat and you don’t think you‘ve taken a breath since you heard the unfamiliar voice in your home.

It’s violating. Them being here. Where you go after a long day of work to relax. Where you eat, sleep, shower, and just be.

How dare they defile and taint your safe place, where you hide away and pretend the exhausting world around you doesn’t exist?

You’re stuck, unsure of your next move and paralyzed with fear.

“We think you have something we want.”

You’re not sure what they mean, but you nod in compliance anyway. Not much you can say no to against two heavily armed men. You finally break your gaze away from the gun and take turns making frightful eye contact with them. You speak after a failed attempt of swallowing your fear, voice soft and broken, “Take it.”

They exchange a knowing glance with each other, the man with his face exposed bears an irritatingly smug grin.

Skull-face approaches you threateningly, sending fear down your spine and making your skin crawl as you push yourself further into the door. He leaves no room for pleas as he flips his gun around, the stock coming down on your forehead with enough force to knock you out cold.

————————————————————-

Your splitting headache was the first thing you registered when you came to. You can’t seem to concentrate, the fog in your brain so extreme your thoughts are incoherent. You let out a meek whimper as you attempt to open your eyes, the lights in the room stunning you and intensifying the throbbing pain in your skull. You wince, closing your eyes again to block it out.

A few moments pass - and the next thing you notice is the dryness in your mouth, unable to manage a swallow from the dehydration.

Water.

The only intelligible thought you’ve had after registering your discomfort, the instinctual desire stronger than the dizzy haze clouding your brain.

You lift your head, trying to move but your weakened muscles fail you.

Your muscles are weak, yes, but what’s really keeping you in place are the restraints.

You wince again, eyes scrunched to block out the brutal light as you tug to confirm you’re secured. Your wrists were bound behind you, your shoulders overextending around the back of the chair you were planted on. Your ankles bound to either leg of the chair. There’s another restraint wrapping under your arms and around the back of the chair, keeping your upper half upright. There’s a rashy burn underneath the coarse ropes that dug into your skin as your unconscious body leaned into it.

You let out another whimper from the back of your coarse throat. While you weren’t alert, every instinct within you notified you of the danger you were in.

Gotta move.

You try to squint one eye, but it still doesn’t save you from the flash intensity of your headache. Your eyes are stinging on top of it and you realize you’re partially blinded, vision blurred and doubled, stained red with your own blood.

You grit your teach, determined to figure out where you are. You try to concentrate your vision but to no avail.

Even so, you can tell you’re not at home, and you’re not on base.

Once you make your discovery, one that expended what little willpower you had, your eyes clench back shut, desperate to alleviate the migraine.

A secondary location, you thought to yourself through the pain, I’m fucked.

You can’t hear anything, the ringing in your ears deafening you.

You let out one more defeated whine before resting your chin on your chest, pinching your eyes closed.

You have no idea how long you drift in and out of consciousness for. During the brief moments you come to, you’re so disoriented you can’t make sense of your thoughts, and that coupled with the debilitating pain in your head is unnerving enough to make you cry tears of pure confusion.

It’s your neck snapping back to follow the hair yanking on your scalp that jolts you awake, and try to open your eyes to find the threat but they’re still not working as they should. Underneath the debilitating ringing, you can hear the sound of muffled male voices, unable to make out what they’re saying.

You gave up.

You were wounded & trapped, and in nature that meant a death sentence. You were in no shape to properly defend yourself. Couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, couldn’t move, couldn’t think.

You were as done as the toast made from your own designs.

After wincing, your eyes screwed shut, you go limp and give in to the man physically controlling you like a sadistic puppeteer.

The muffled voices are louder, you still can’t make out their words but you can tell they’re having some sort of argument. They’re yelling at each other, and your scalp becomes collateral as the one tightens his grip on your hair to match his escalated volume

He’s right in your ear now and it’s not helping with the headache.

Just hurry it up, You manage through the haze, just hurry it up and put me out of my misery.

He throws your head forward to the position it was in before, slumped over as much as the ropes would allow with your chin pointed to the ground. The force rattles your skull in a way that makes you see a searing white behind your eyelids. What little water you had left in you was escaping through your swollen eyes lids and down tear-stained cheeks.

Just kill me, please.

——————————————————-

When you come to again, you’re no longer sitting. You’re flat on your back. Your neck secured so your head is in line with your spine. Your headache takes the front stage but the pain has noticeably subsided. You try to open your eyes again, but the lights above you are still excruciating.

You let out a low moan and shut your eyes again.

Your ears still ring, but a good portion of your hearing has returned to you. You hear your name, followed by, “are you awake?”

You grunt in response, unable to form sentences.

“Can you open your eyes for me?”

You wince, trying to shake your head but unable. Instead, you grunt again before parting your lips. You tried to say, “Lights,” but your voice is so hoarse it comes out broken and cracked.

“What is it?”

You try and clear your throat, putting all your power into your strained voice, “Lights.”

They understand, and while you still can’t hear the flick of the switch, you can tell from behind your eyelids they’ve been shut off.

You try to mutter a “Thank you,” but give up a quarter of the way through.

You slowly open your eyes, still burning but blood wiped away from them. Your vision is still blurry, but no longer doubled.

“Do you remember what happened?”

You try to shake your head, but can’t. So you force a weak, “No.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“No.”

“Do you know what today’s date is?”

You just grunt, closing your eyes again. You didn’t know the answer but you were too fed up with the questions to respond.

“Can you see?”

You grunt again.

“Okay, how ‘bout this? Can you wiggle your fingers for me?”

You try to lift your arm in the direction of the voice but your action is cut short, your arm jerked still by a restraint on your wrist. You open and close your fingers slowly at the maximum range the restraint will allow.

“How ‘bout your toes?”

Your toes move slightly, your calves aching at even such a mild movement.

“Good, thank you. How’s the hearing?”

Kill me or leave me alone, you think.

You eventually freeze the owner of voice out, finally leaving you alone to rest.

The next few days are a miserable, confusing blur. Somewhere along the way you’re informed you’re in medical, being treated for your extreme concussion. No skull fracture, thankfully, but they suspect the bruising is severe if it was enough to knock you unconscious.

The concussion had scrambled you good, and you were not nearly as sharp as you usually are.

It took you a whole five days, not that you could keep track of the passing time, before you realized that you were not at medical on your base.

You were in medical, restrained to a hospital bed-

in enemy care.

————————————————————

There was nothing you could do. Restrained to your bed, sedated with painkillers when they thought you were becoming too active.

“To help you rest.” They told you, but you couldn't trust a word that came out of their mouths.

Medics are supposed to be neutral, bound to an ethical code to heal the injured, enemy or not. That didn’t stop some medics from harboring grudges after years of patching up their own soldier’s brutal wounds of war.

The next time the medicine wears off for a long amount of time, with no medics in sight, you conveniently get visitors, the soldiers that had visited you in your home.

The events had been beaten out of you, but the traumatic event had seeped somewhere deeper into your psyche, and you knew deep down you were in trouble at the mere sight of them.

Skull-face especially, you don’t know how or why, but your intuition tells you he’s responsible for this. “Ready to answer some questions? Or do you need me to put you back to sleep?”

You can tell by the sharp edge in his voice he doesn’t mean the painkillers.

“Maybe I’d be able to answer your questions if you hadn’t given me brain damage.” Your patience is running thin, and an ember ignites a flame inside you, “Who knows what information you knocked out of me.” You stare directly into his eyes, brows furrowed, the tone of your voice inviting trouble in.

He already took everything away from you. At this point you don’t care if he puts you under. You’re begging him too. Every time you wake up you just want to go back to sleep. You don’t want to deal with it, any of it.

Skull-face makes a move to advance but the maskless soldier stops him by putting an arm out, laying it firmly across his to hold him back.

You don’t flinch, eyes now staring down the soldier with a stubbled jaw and a mohawk that ended in a widow's peak. It’s a haircut you find highly unusual for a soldier.

Your face doesn’t crack, but you squint at the pair, “What do you even want to know? I don’t even work on the field, I have no information.”

Skull-face looks down at you, “Oh, we know.” That stupid accent and that stupid mask. If you weren’t restrained you think you would have launched at him, risking it all to get a few good scratches in with your fingernails. He reaches into his pocket and your eyes widen and your brows retract at what he pulls out.

Not a weapon, no.

It’s your design, the AI-powered earpiece, and your wrist remote.

Skull-face notices the realization that sets across your face, “Awh, looks like your memory is working fine after all.”

The flame inside you laps at your skin, your features flushing with anger. A lot at Skull-face, for being such a cocky prick, but mostly at yourself.

You did this yourself. You figured your day of reckoning would come eventually. That karma would bite you in the ass, and those who are affected by your designs will stand by and laugh at your demise.

You should have just stuck with redesigning kitchen appliances.

“Why don’t you show us what you’ve been cooking up, huh? We know you’ve been busy.”

The pair share another knowing glance, Mohawk snickering at your expense.

“How did you get that?” You ask through gritted teeth, knowing there’s no way they could have gotten into the highly secured base.

“What is it?” Skull-face asks.

“It’s an intercom.” You grit, the ache in your head pulsing. You miss the painkillers.

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not.”

Mohawk steps in, “It’s okay, we all get embarrassed about our porn.”

You furrow your brows at him.

What the hell was he talking about?

Skull-face elbows him in the side, but it doesn’t keep his partner from smiling, “What is it?” He asks again.

“It’s an intercom.”

He’s getting sick of this game and he goes to step to you again but Mohawk cuts him short. “Ghost!” He says firmly.

Ghost, that was Skull-faces name. Or call sign, at least. You hated him, but you’d wished the other soldier would just let him at you. You didn’t care anymore.

Mohawk looks at you, “Look, there’s only so much I can do,” gesturing to Ghost, “Can’t we all just get along for a little bit, yeah?”

“How about you get along with deez nuts.” You laugh at your dumb joke, a laugh influenced by the daze of concussion and painkillers. You’re in hysteria, the laugh spills out and doesn’t let up. A release of built-up stress and frustration and anger that seeped out uncontrollably. Cackling at yourself for ending up in this situation. Only you would be capable of such hijinks. The laugh leaves you out of breath and with eyes full of tears. You don’t even care how it exacerbates the headache, or how you’re coming off as insane. It feels too good to let out the pent-up emotions, one way or another.

Your elation is cut short with a squeak as a gloved hand cuts harshly into your trachea. Ghost squeezes, roughly lifting you by the neck before shoving you back down on the hospital bed, his grip tighter than before. His voice is low and filled with caution, “I am getting sick of you.”

If you could breathe enough to talk, you’d tell him the feeling’s mutual. Instead you gag and sputter, which he takes as a sign that you are still getting air, and forces more of his weight onto your neck.

Your hands fail to defend yourself, the restraints holding you from fighting back. You’re getting close to blacking out, your laugh having already knock most of the wind out of you, but Mohawk pulls Ghost off of you, his hands firm on Ghost’s shoulders, “Stop! Stop.”

You involuntarily gasp, desperate for air, trying not to choke on your own spit. For a moment all you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears, flowing desperately to replace what Ghost restricted.

“Come on, last try.” He warns, and you can tell in your voice he means it.

You eye him carefully, still heaving for air. When you collect yourself, you speak, “I’ll show you.” You say, voice weak and breathy. You try to hold out your hand, but get stopped by the restraints.

Mohawk glances at Ghost, but Ghost keeps his stern eyes trained on you. He stays still for a moment, studying you with his arms crossed.

You roll your eyes, your chest still huffing as you reclaim your air, “Don’t trust me? Fine. I’ll walk you through it. Put the fucking bracelet on.”

He stares for another moment before taking the device from Mohawk. Must of handed it off so he could strangle you better.

He puts it on his wrist.

“Now tap the top.”

He follows your instructions, the wrist remote’s projection displaying above his wrist.

“Go ahead and open your settings.” You guide him through it, activating a few select overlays. “You got it. Now put the earpiece on.”

Ghost hesitates, looking over to his companion before he slowly reaches up underneath his balaclava, attaching the earpiece.

“Yep, and while you’re in there, go ahead and hit the button on the base.”

You watch as your design activates, displaying the transparent overlay over his eyes. He’s taken aback, unnerved by the unidentified design being so close to his vulnerable eyes.

“Ta-da!” You say sarcastically, showing off the full range of the restraints as you offer weak jazz hands. “So I’ve given you some information. Maybe you can give me a little information, yeah?”

He doesn’t say anything as he removes his hand from his mask.

“Where am I?” You ask.

“You know where you are.”

“How’d you find me?”

“We tracked your cell phone.”

You squint, “Why were you tracking my phone?” It doesn’t make any sense, there’s no way they would have been able to pin your cell phone information back to base. You don’t use it for work and there’s no way you had connected to the private Wi-Fi. It’s apples and oranges, you think.

Mohawk steps in front of Ghost and holds out his phone in your direction. It takes a moment for the image to come into view, your vision still impaired. When your eyes adjust, the screen shows you something that makes your blood turn cold.

It’s the video of Konig jerking off.

“Okay! Okay.” You wave your hands, “Just put that away, I get it.”

When you connected your phone to your software to transfer the recording of Konig, it briefly connected to your laptop.

Base internet has state-of-the-art firewalls and encryptions to prevent surveillance, hack-in, key logs.

Cell phones do not.

So they’ve been tracking you all week, and who knows what kind of information they were able to pull from your software? From your laptop, containing dozens of government secrets?

No, you think, they wouldn’t be going through the trouble of keeping me alive if they had the information on my laptop.

“What’s the matter? Embarrassed that gettin’ your rocks off caused a security breach in confidential information regarding warfare development?” Mohawk mocks.

Well, yes you were, now that he mentions it. You’re actually very worried your perverted little stunt will somehow end up forever immortalized in history books.

In the moment, though, your main concern was making sure that Konig wouldn’t find out, as you had started transmitting the device’s feed to him as soon as Ghost turned the earpiece on.

Part Three

[mephistopheles]

thing is, the original star trek correctly predicted a lot of the technology we have today. cell phones, which probably exist because of star trek. automatic doors. synthesised female-voiced computers that you can ask questions to, and they'll collate information to give you a response. digital styluses. touch screen tablets. search engines. speech-to-text dictation software. skype. one episode, 'the ultimate computer,' even features a decision-making AI so advanced that certain people argue it can successfully replace a human. but star trek also predicted that by the time we had these technologies, we'd be better than we are. we'd be kinder, peaceful, a "united earth." i dont know, man. i dont know