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millenniumpuzzle · 3 years

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a flaw in the code

Kaiba runs his Twitter more or less automatically, including a function to mass-block people who interact with Tweets he has blocked. Unfortunately, this sometimes means that he blocks people he doesn’t mean to block. When he gets confronted over this, how will he respond?

my introduction to canon x oc (the oc being kazuko kubota, the child of me and @duelistkingdom ) and it’s from kaiba’s pov (feat unrequited rivalship), because of course it is. enjoy! read on ao3 here

“Kaiba.”

Kaiba’s spine stiffened at the familiar voice. He clutched his books to his chest, their reassuring weight giving him the courage to spin on his heel. As he expected, Yugi Mutou was behind him. Or, not Yugi, but the other Yugi. He was wearing the uniform jacket properly, unlike his tendency during Battle City, but he was no less imposing.

Kaiba swallowed, hoping his voice came out naturally. “Yugi. What’s this about?”

“My partner was discouraged this morning. When I asked him why, he pulled up his phone instead of actually talking to me. So, I will do the same to you: care to explain this?” With all the flair he usually saved for revealing a Spell card, the other Yugi flipped his phone towards Kaiba. Kaiba had to squint—he wouldn’t be caught dead in his reading glasses at school—but when he finally made out the text, he frowned.

“So you’re blocked by somebody on Twitter? Please, Yugi, this isn’t something to get worked up about. It’s not like it’s a personal attack.” He ignored the voice in his head reminding him that he had written a program for his own Twitter that would block anyone who associated with certain tweets. Tweets that featured Yugi boasting about his beautiful, talented, clever girlfriend in particular.

“Just somebody, huh?” The other Yugi fixed Kaiba with a stern look. It should have seemed out of place on Yugi’s round, friendly face, but Kaiba couldn’t help but feel suddenly small. “Try again.”

Kaiba sighed, but took Yugi’s phone in his own hand, finding the appropriate position where he could read the text with the least amount of eye strain. And— “What is this?”

The other Yugi was right; he wasn’t blocked by just any random loser on Twitter. The screen was on Kaiba’s own Twitter page. Instead of the Kaiba Land promos and Duel Disk news he had most recently retweeted, however, the screen was gray, apart from a block of tiny letters. “You are blocked by this user,” the website proclaimed, though as Kaiba met the other Yugi’s piercing eyes again, it felt more like an accusation than a simple statement of fact.

“I’d think you would know,” the other Yugi replied, voice startlingly cool.

To his horror, Kaiba found himself at a loss for words. “I don’t—I mean—” He cut himself off, squeezing his eyes shut and taking a couple deep breaths. As he did so, he searched his memory, but he couldn’t recall hitting the block button on Yugi. At least, not of his own volition.

“Use your words, Kaiba.”

Kaiba growled, but forced his eyes back open. “I didn’t block you.” At the other Yugi’s raised eyebrow, he rushed on, words running into one another in his haste to get them out. “At least, not on purpose. In fact, my account is more or less completely run automatically, using programs that I wrote specifically for that purpose. Some of these scripts do involve blocking users, so it’s possible that your account got caught in some filter accidentally.”

The other Yugi frowned, crossing his arms and tapping his fingers against his elbows. “So what you’re saying is, your computer programs blocked my partner by mistake?”

“Exactly.” Kaiba couldn’t help but feel a jolt of envy at how quickly the other Yugi picked things up. “It was a quirk of the system, nothing more. Tell Yugi that he can stop moping about it.” He felt ridiculous asking someone who, for all intents and purposes, was Yugi to pass along a message to Yugi. Ever since Battle City, though, he’d found himself a bit more amenable to the ridiculous, implausible things that happened around Yugi Mutou.

The other Yugi, for his part, perked up substantially at the mention of his own name. “I can do better than that!” A genuine grin spread over his features, drawing Kaiba’s attention to his plush lips, the dimple on his left cheek. “I can bring him out so you can tell him yourself!”

He continued speaking, but aside from a few mentions of the word “partner,” Kaiba was no longer listening. Ice had shot down his spine, while paradoxically, heat bloomed in his cheeks and sweat formed on his hands. “That won’t be necessary,” he snapped, interrupting the other Yugi’s joyful monologue. “Just tell him what I said. Goodbye.”

With that, he turned on his heel and fled the hallway, books still clutched close to his chest. He could feel his heart hammering in his ears, even as he turned into the men’s room and locked the door behind him. The wooden door was cool against his back as he sunk to a sitting position against it, letting his school supplies fall from his arms.

God damn it. Kaiba exhaled sharply, dragging his hands down his face, before pulling out his phone and opening Twitter. A rare occurrence, as of late; there wasn’t much that he needed to keep up with online, and he rarely wanted to check the inane tweets his contemporaries made. When his profile opened, he navigated to the “Blocked Users” page. There was quite a bit to scroll through, but eventually, he was face-to-face with Yugi’s smiling profile picture.

Almost immediately, he turned his phone off, pulling his knees to his chest and burying his face in his crossed arms. He really did block Yugi. Prevented from interaction with one of the only people he actually wanted to interact with by his own programs.

He allowed himself a moment of despair, before pulling himself back together, unlocking his phone once more. Even so, he still flinched at the reappearance of Yugi’s picture. Keep it together, Seto. You’re just seeing what triggered the block. Think about it like a programming error.

One of the benefits of Kaiba’s auto-block program (nicknamed “Crush Tweet Virus” by Mokuba) was that if Kaiba blocked a tweet, not only did it block the person who made it, it also hid the profiles of anyone who interacted with it. What’s more, it allowed him to see the blocked tweet a given user had liked or retweeted. This was a nominally useful feature. In Yugi’s case, however, the reason for the block made Kaiba’s blood run cold. God. Anything but that tweet.

Unfortunately, no matter how much he tried to blink it out of existence, the proof was there. Kaiba opened the blocked tweet in question, and his stomach immediately turned over. He didn’t have a name for the emotions burning in his gut. All he knew was that the image of Yugi pressing a kiss to Kazuko Kubota’s outstretched hand, the caption declaring “These two are couple goals,” threatened to overwhelm him with discomfort. He had blocked it for a reason.

In fact, there was a theme to the posts he had blocked. They all contained some reference to Yugi Mutou, Kazuko Kubota, and/or the fact that they were currently in a relationship. As much as he wanted to lie to himself, he knew what irked him so much about the reminder that Yugi was dating somebody. It was the fact that he wanted to be the person whose hand Yugi was kissing—the reminder that Yugi clearly didn’t have the same feelings toward Kaiba.

His face was burning. If only he could take his uniform jacket off, splash water on his face, anything to calm him down without ruining his composed appearance. Instead, he navigated back to his “Blocked Users” page, once again making eye contact with Yugi’s smiling headshot. If his fingers trembled at all as he hit the “unblock” button, Kaiba certainly wouldn’t admit to it. He would have to reprogram “Crush Tweet Virus” to exempt Yugi entirely, as he would almost certainly interact with other tweets about his girlfriend. Girlfriend—the word made Kaiba’s stomach do another unpleasant flip.

He thought he was done with the whole endeavor. In fact, he was almost at peace, comfortably eating his lunch on the roof a few days later. Part of that had to do with the fact that he hadn’t interacted with Yugi in all that time, but nobody needed to know that. Unfortunately, things couldn’t be so easy for him.

“Hey, Kaiba! They told me I could find you up here.”

Kaiba nearly spit out his mouthful of rice. Surely, his ears were playing tricks on him. Kubota went to Rintama, she wouldn’t have time to make it onto the roof of Domino High during her lunch break. Yet, as he craned his neck up from his lunch, his stomach dropped. Those baby-pink hair buns could belong to nobody else.

He jumped to his feet, uncomfortable with looking up at the much-shorter duelist, then cleared his throat. “Kubota. What are you doing here?”

Kubota just grinned at him, though it looked more like a hostile baring of teeth to Kaiba. “I was in the neighborhood. Figured I’d drop by and thank you for unblocking Yugi.”

“You knew about that?” Kaiba said, keeping his gaze fiercely locked with her lavender eyes.

“Of course! Yugi and I don’t keep things from each other,” she responded, sounding hurt. “He was really upset when he realized you blocked him, so finding out that it was a mistake made him feel way better. So, uh, thanks.”

Why was she thanking him? He and Kubota didn’t speak much, but when they did, she was usually admonishing him. The lashing she gave him at Duelist Kingdom flashed through his mind; he suppressed a shudder. Yet, analyzing her body language, he didn’t think she was being sarcastic.

She cleared her throat, then, and gestured towards him. Right, she had said, “Thank you.” What was the right response to give? He settled on a curt, “You’re welcome,” and a brief jerk of his head, an abridged bow. Yet, she didn’t turn to leave. Instead, she glanced up and down his form, hands on her hips. One side of her face twitched—a suppressed smile?

“So, the stowaway tells me your Twitter account is basically automated,” she said casually, slipping one of the straps of her bright red bag off so that it hung from one shoulder instead of both.

“Stowaway?”

“Right, you don’t hang out with us much. That’s what I call the other Yugi.”

Kaiba flushed with embarrassment at the memory of the prior conversation. “I see. Yes, he’s right. That is how Yugi got blocked.”

Kubota leaned in, one eyebrow raised. “So, what program blocked Yugi? ‘Cause Stowaway tells me that he didn’t think you were lying about it being an accident, but I haven’t heard of anything that blocks people so liberally.”

“What do you mean?” Kaiba asked, frowning. “One person getting blocked by my program doesn’t mean that I’ve blocked everybody.”

“Are you sure about that?” Kubota wasn’t looking at him anymore, instead focused on her own phone. She scrolled for a moment, fingers moving in time with the rhythm she chewed her gum, before turning her screen towards him with a cry of triumph. “This thread says otherwise.”

Again, Kaiba was forced to squint at someone else’s phone screen, and almost immediately, he regretted ever signing up for Twitter in the first place. The first tweet was from Mai Kujaku, reading, “Lmao, guess I pissed him off somehow!” It was accompanied by a familiar screenshot: Kaiba’s own profile, with the text “You have been blocked by this user.”

The next tweet was from Kubota herself, remarking, “Lol, I’ve been blocked since Duelist Kingdom.” After that, the replies were full of Yugi’s friends, all posting similar screenshots and complaining about (Mazaki) or rejoicing (Jonouchi) being blocked by Seto Kaiba.

Damn him for forgetting that Kubota was an excellent strategist in her own right; he shouldn’t have let his guard down around her. He would never admit he had been thrown off, though. Instead, he straightened his posture, using the extra inch of height to sneer down at Kubota. “So my program kept the dweeb patrol from interacting with me. Seems like it’s working as intended.”

“But you didn’t want it to keep Yugi out, right?” Kubota said, a confident gleam in her eye that he recognized from when she dueled. She was right, of course, but he kept his mouth shut rather than admit it. “Whatever your program does, it obviously has a chain effect, since I haven’t interacted with any of your tweets. Maybe it doesn’t involve your tweets at all? I can puzzle this out all day, Kaiba.”

“Fine! If I tell you, will you stop talking?” Kaiba growled, frowning all the harder when Kubota grinned in response.

“Sure.” Her voice was as bouncy as the curls escaping her buns. Kaiba hated it.

Kaiba paused, trying to collect his thoughts. All the while, Kubota rocked on her heels, humming a melody he didn’t recognize. Finally, he happened on a good starting point.

“I thought I was aromantic.”

To his dismay, Kubota appeared to choke on air, coughing hard before breaking into disbelieving laughter. He crossed his arms, glaring at her, until she finally collected herself enough to say, “I’m sorry, I just— That is not what I expected you to say.” At Kaiba’s silence, she sighed, putting her hands up in a placating gesture. “Fine, I’ll be quiet. I guess you’re not aromantic?”

Kaiba thought about saying something in response to her air-quotes, but thought better of it. “I thought that I was above all of that. I didn’t have time for romance anyway—I still don’t. But then, you and Yugi got together, and it made me feel...ill.” Kubota’s face twisted, but he didn’t address it. “At first, I thought I was having romantic feelings towards you—”

“What?” Kubota’s horrified cry was a bit much, in Kaiba’s opinion, but he felt the same way.

“Calm down, that wasn’t the case.” He narrowed his eyes at Kubota’s exaggerated exhale, but continued. “After some thought, it became clear that… I was experiencing romantic attraction, but not towards you.” The other words on his tongue died once that horrifying revelation was out, and he snapped his mouth shut, letting his confession linger in the air.

Kubota’s brow was furrowed, however. Why was she confused? Kaiba had told her everything she needed to know! He was about to accuse her of taunting him when she gasped, eyes widening. “Are you… Coming out to me?”

Kaiba’s already-pale face became even whiter. “No?”

“Yes, you are! You’re coming out to me! And you started your coming out speech by telling me my boyfriend was your gay realization?” With every step, she advanced on him, until she was close enough that when she pointed her finger for emphasis, it brushed his chest.

“That’s—a blunt description, Kubota.”

She just shook her head. “I mean, it’s fine, I’m bi, but it’s a weird way to tell somebody you’re gay. And this relates to Twitter...how?”

Kaiba scoffed. “I could be bisexual.” When Kubota’s brow raised, a familiar irritation began coursing through him. Better than embarrassment. “I could! You don’t know that I’m—that I don’t like girls.”

Kubota scoffed right back, undaunted by his bristling. “Whatever you want to tell yourself. I just want to know what this has to do with blocking Yugi on Twitter.”

“It has everything to do with that,” Kaiba said, but his mouth dried up as he realized exactly why Yugi and the rest of his friends were blocked. He cleared his throat, then balled his fists and looked away from Kubota. The words felt like venom in his throat; the only way to alleviate the burning they caused was to spit them out. “I set up a program to block anybody who liked certain posts. Posts that talked about yours and Yugi’s relationship.”

A raised eyebrow. “Just talked about? That’s kind of a broad net, even for you, Kaiba.”

“Fine. They were posts which included photographic or video evidence of you being a couple. Usually with highly supportive comments. Those were the kinds of things I blocked, and the virus associated with it blocked anyone who interacted with a post I blocked using this system.”

Kubota shook her head. “Even your weird Twitter bots are like Duel Monsters cards. I’d say to get a hobby, but it seems like you’ve got your hands full already.”

“Are you challenging me? Because I’ll wipe the floor with you in a Duel, we both know that,” Kaiba growled.

“No,” Kubota said lightly, “but not because I think I’ll lose. You’re so predictable, Kaiba. I should have seen this coming, though I didn’t think you would be this weird about me and Yugi. Guess I was wrong!”

Arms folded, Kaiba surveyed his adversary. Five-foot-nothing, blowing a bubble of gum at him while she rocked back and forth on her booted heels, skateboard underneath one arm. Her Buster Blader cards came to mind, and he cringed internally. He made a mental note: find a copy of her Battle City deck and run simulations against it, to discern ideal counter-strategies.

But, he needed to respond to her before that could happen. “Hmph. As long as Yugi doesn’t forget who his true rival is, I suppose I don’t need to make a fuss about his romantic decisions.”

Kubota’s shoulders shook, but she looked him in the eyes and nodded. “Thank you, Kaiba. Are you...sure you’re okay?”

“Of course I am,” Kaiba said, more off-kilter than he’d ever been. “Now, the bell’s about to ring, and I haven’t finished my lunch.”

Checking her watch, her glossy lips parted in surprise. “Shit, you’re right. I gotta get back to Rintama. Don’t be a stranger, Kaiba!” With that, she ran toward the stairs, waving at him over her shoulder before the door slammed behind her. Kaiba exhaled slowly, and looked at the remains of his bento. He wasn’t very hungry, all of a sudden.

What had he done?

#my writing #yugioh fanfic #oc: kazuko kubota #anyway!!!!

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keelywolfe · 4 years

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Drabble: Not A Side-Eye (baon)

Notes: Gilded_pleasure made a mention recently that they love the way everyone at the Embassy seems to be somewhat protective of Edge. That Edge thinks he's a complete hardass and everyone knows that beneath his pointy exterior lies the soul of a true marshmallow.

It's so true, poor boy, so of course they are all invested in his happiness.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

The Embassy was always a hub of activity during the day. On the first floor were meeting rooms for visitors, mostly Humans and Monsters without security clearance. As one went further into the building, entry was more limited. The higher the floor, the more clearance required, and the basement levels were the reverse, the deepest levels restricted to those with the most security access.

Edge’s office was on the third floor and despite the necessity of limiting access to the floor, there was always a flurry of activity around. Mailroom clerks delivering paperwork and carefully screened packages, personal assistants rushing from room to room to with time sensitive messages, even the occasional Monster from Security strolling through the floors at odd hours for inspections that were on a schedule privy to very few.

Edge could always tell which of the security personnel were personally trained by Red; their placid expressions were unreadable, their eyes coolly observant as they scanned their surroundings. And so, it was a good guess that his brother hadn’t trained the Monster who was looking at him now. They were all but staring, watching him make his slow way through the hallway.

“Can I help you?” Edge asked coolly. He refused to be self-conscious about his scooter, it was a necessary medical device, thank you, and not open for mockery.

“Huh? Oh, no,” the Monster waved him off with a self-conscious little laugh, another clear sign that Red hadn’t had a hand in his training. “Sorry, it was just…you know…” He lightly tapped the side of his face and Edge might have been further offended if it weren’t very clear that he didn’t mean the obvious crack in his socket.

“I’m afraid I don’t know,” Edge let his voice drop from cool to icy, “would you care to explain?”

Once, that tone would have inspired fear in whoever it was directed at and while that wasn’t exactly his goal, it was dissatisfying for the Monster to only shake his head, muttering another apology smothered with amusement as he turned and walked down towards the elevators. Edge only watched him go, more perplexed than upset.

It might have irritated him more if it weren’t for the fact that he wasn’t the only Monster giving him strange looks this morning. There was nothing in them that Edge could pinpoint, no particular flick of eyes towards anyplace obvious, not even the fly of his pants which would at least prompt him to check his zipper. If he had to choose a word to describe it, he supposed he might call those glances fond, of all things, though why every person who passed him by today might give him such a look, he couldn’t begin to guess.

Edge could only shake his head and continued on his way back to his office, careful of the two cups secured in the front basket. He made a mental note to simply ask Janice for a refill the next time he wanted coffee.

Ah. Janice. She might be the key to all this that he needed.

She was sitting at her desk as Edge rolled back into the outer office, glancing up with a smile as he set her coffee cup on her desk. Her expression turned questioning when he didn’t go on to his own office.

“Why does everyone keep looking at me today?” Edge asked bluntly. “I thought it was the scooter, but they aren’t laughing at me or mocking, so what is it?”

“What do you mean?” Janice asked, her brow furrowing, “and I’m sure no one is laughing at you, everyone was very worried about you, they’re happy to have you back.”

That much was true. The morning he’d returned, he’d discovered a card on his desk, signed by nearly everyone in the Embassy, including Asgore. He’d been quite touched, and the card was sitting propped up on his desk, right next to his stuffed chicken, Pot Pie. He already had plans to spend some time this coming Saturday baking plenty of treats to bring in next week as a thank you.

As for right now, he’d spent enough time around Stretch to know when someone was hedging on the verge of a lie, buying time to come up with something reasonably believable.

Time was of the essence and he knew from experience that demands weren’t the route to take; better to make an attempt at appealing to her maternal instincts. Edge would never excel as an actor or a liar, that much he knew. Instead, he took all of his knowledge of his husband’s skills in that area and channeled it, letting it guide him into creating a perfectly pleading expression as he wheedled out, “Tell me?”

Janice wilted instantly beneath the force of his imploring gaze, surely this was a power that should be wielded with caution. “Well…it might be because of Stretch’s twitter post.”

Of course it was. Edge sighed, resigned to his fate, “What did he say?”

There was a certain sympathy in her smile, “It might be better if you check for yourself.”

He went to his office and dug out his phone. The twitter app was buried on the third menu, he rarely opened it since he only followed two people on it and only truly cared about one of them. He tapped the icon and the very first tweet leapt out at him.

had someone send me a message asking me what i do for a living. not much for the 9 to 5, i usually work my hardest trying to make my babycakes happy. it’s a tough job, but someone’s gotta do it!

It was followed by a flurry of emoticons, mostly of hearts and fireworks, along with a cake and the odd random chili pepper. Beneath the message was a picture of Stretch, a selfie in profile. He was pressing a spectacularly messy kiss against what Edge knew was his own cheekbone, but the picture was carefully cropped to show only a sliver of his face and one of his boots, tangled between Stretch’s sneakered feet.

More fodder for the internet speculators who were so strangely invested in their relationship. It seemed some of his co-workers were equally invested if those earlier looks meant anything.

He didn’t remember Stretch taking this picture, but then, he took so many that wasn’t unexpected. He supposed it should bother him, to have his private life so exposed, even in the periphery. Instead, all he felt was a swell of his own fondness, looking at that picture, at Stretch’s visible glee, the curve of his smile showing from around that kiss. Perhaps he could ask Stretch for an uncropped copy, assuming one existed.

Impulsively, he typed a reply, saying only, you’re a good worker, you should ask your boss for a raise. Then he closed the app before any other comments could pour in. There was only one he cared to see, and he suspected it would come as a text.

His phone chimed right on time, but not from the expected source. His brother sent him a text, curt and to the point.

don’t worry ‘bout earlier, boss, it’ll get handled.

Well, it looked like the security Monster from earlier would be getting a little personal training from Red, after all. Meanly vindicated, Edge sat down at his desk with his coffee to get back to work. He could use some time to prepare himself for any looks he got on his way down to lunch.

-fin

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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itsstickball · 5 years

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Rivalry pt.2

(pt.1, pt.3)

Things progressed normally through the regular season and Neil soon found himself breathless staring up at a scoreboard that meant the Furies were going to the National Cup Championship. A moment was all he had to breathe it in before his entire team was swamping the court and sweeping him up into their raucous celebration.

Later, after press duty, showering and changing, Neil checked his phone. There were the usual messages of congratulations, asks to hang out later, a rare “good job” from Kevin – whose own team had qualified the week prior. He was significantly more surprised, however, by the twitter notification saying that he’d been tagged in a message from @AJminyard. It was mostly odd in that Andrew rarely actually tweeted anything his publicist didn’t mandate, and even rarer in that he actually tagged someone rather than just using their actual name.

Curious, he swiped the app open.

Sure enough, Andrew had attached a brief clip of the Furies’ celebration, mostly centered on Neil being hoisted above their heads as the smallest player, his face nearly split in half with a grin. The article it was attached to was fairly congratulatory, and Neil skimmed it for only a moment. Andrew’s comment however, was far more succinct and far less generous.

-Shame @NJos10 won’t be celebrating like that two weeks from now.-

Two weeks, of course, was when the Furies would play the Miami Marauders. For all that Andrew claimed to hate the game, Neil knew that he’d bring his best that night and had every intention of rising to the challenge. And if he played hard enough to beg off from going out with his teammate afterward, no one would blame him.

-We’ll see. @AJminyard-

He replied, swiping back to his texts with a private smile. The rest of the team was waiting in the lounge as he strolled out, duffle in one hand, phone in the other.

“Aw man, look at that baby face! Neil, when are you gonna buck up and let us meet this secret admirer of yours?”

“My what?”

He looked up from his phone to stare quizzically at Martin.

“You’ve got that sappy look.”

Neil turned to Lovejoy for help, but the older man just nodded his head sagely.

“I’m looking at pictures of Matt’s puppy?”

He explained slowly, showing them the most recent round, in which Boulder is dressed in a different doggy jersey for his, Matt’s, Andrew’s and Kevin’s teams, plus a custom one for Dan’s Class II collegiate team, the Devils.

Both older men let out a sigh, but then dutifully comment on how good the puppy looks wearing their purple and red. Neil texts their responses back to Matt and then closes out of his phone. Nila Jones, their female offensive dealer picks that time to sling an arm around Neil’s shoulder and simultaneously join their conversation and steer them out of the room with the rest of the team.

“Hey y’all, the vote was unanimous, for once in our goddamn lives. So, everyone’s off to Chewy’s to celebrate.”

She looked at their various expressions and the way they’d been huddled around Neil’s phone and continues before any of the men can get a word in edgewise.

“What’s with the pow-wow? Don’t tell me you were trash-talking Minyard without me again. I still owe him for that return ball to the ass.”

This time it was Lovejoy and Martin’s turn to look confused.

“Why would we be trash talking Minyard?”

Nila shared a long-suffering look with Neil, who just shrugged and correctly assumed that she’d explain it for him.

“Uh, because the midget just threw down a gauntlet on twitter?”

“Who did what!?”

Another voice called out, drawn in by Nila’s naturally loud voice and fiery attitude.

“Andrew Minyard’s already talking shit to Josten about the playoff game.”

A third voice chimed in, Henry Beckett already passing his phone around with the exchange pulled up.

“Of course, he is.”

Someone else sighed amongst other mutterings or exclamations as the topic of conversation grew to include the rest of the team. Thankfully, their stomachs were just as big of a deal as their chirping and the group continued to migrate out to their cars. Since they were all going to the same place, it was typical to carpool in smaller groups. Neil was less than surprised when several players packed themselves into his “mom car.” It had plenty of seats and a guaranteed DD. He did smile as the conversation washed pleasantly over him, though. Being the driver also had the excuse of having to pay attention to the road rather than feel obligated to join in.

A few minutes in, however, despite those in the back having long moved on to a different topic, Martin brought Andrew’s tweet back up.

“Seriously though, don’t stress yourself about that Marauders game.”

Neil glanced over at him with bland incredulity written on his face.

“Why would I be worried? I practiced against Andrew for four years.”

One of which he was probably actively trying to keep from killing me. He doesn’t add.

Martin laughed, softly and warmly.

“Maybe you wouldn’t be. I just wanted to remind you that we’ve got your back. And if Minyard tries to start anything, I’ve got 40lbs and ten inches on him.”

Neil seriously doubted that was as much of an advantage as Martin thought it was. Andrew could wipe the floor with him. He nodded anyway.

“I’m fine…but uh, thanks.”

Practices for the next two weeks include a lot of speed and precision drills and even more scrimmages. When they play the Arizona Diamondbacks, the win comes almost too easily – even with Laila Dermott in goal. It’s definitely one of the more brutal games of the season, with everyone on both teams pushing themselves to be the better player, but Neil flies through it with single-minded focus. When they line up to shake hands after the match, Neil is only a little surprised when her grip pulls him into a fierce hug.

“Give him hell next week, Josten.”

To anyone watching or listening, her show of support banked on the rivalry. It wasn’t hard to tell that she’s talking about Andrew. But there was a warmth and amusement in her eyes that told Neil she didn’t believe the hype and it settled him. He returned her grin and tightened his grip on her arm before letting go.

“With pleasure, Dermott.”

St. Louis and Miami were far enough away that there was no question of whether the Furies would be flying or driving. Neil snapped a picture of the runway from his window seat and sent it to Andrew as they waited for the rest of the plane to finish boarding.

-On my way-

It didn’t take long for the goalie to respond with a curt -154%- and Neil found himself smiling at it before he put his phone in airplane mode and pulled up the “TRAVEL” playlist Nicky and the girls had made for him his Junior year. (Directly below that was a playlist labelled “Neil’s pop culture education” and below that one labelled “Junkie” that consisted solely of songs about obsession created by Andrew.) Neil certainly didn’t have the fear of heights that Andrew did, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed being stuck in a metal tube hurdling through the air. Luckily it wasn’t that long of a flight and his teammates were just as eager to talk Exy when they got bored as he was, so it wasn’t too bad overall.

When they landed in Miami, Neil was hit with two things; the roar of a crowd and a wave of humidity. Even in early October the heat was suffocating. Neil found it amusing for a moment that Andrew had been willing to put up with it just for the sake of denying Kevin’s campaign to get him to sign to Chicago with him. It was just absurd enough to be perfectly, quintessentially Andrew that Neil found himself smiling. Despite his discomfort, the soft grin remained as the team was shuffled through the crowds by their security team.

Stepping into Miami’s inner court had a similar effect. The Marauders’ maroon and sky-blue color scheme coupled with their pirate mascot lead to a very other-worldly feel to their court. It exhilarated Neil to feel like he was encroaching on the territory of some long-lost pirate king, to know that he’d be facing down Andrew when the doors locked and the buzzer sounded. It bolstered the blood pumping through his veins and the lazy grin that liked to take residence on his face on game-days.

“Now there’s the Neil Josten the world knows!”

Martin crooned, ruffling Neil’s hair and bouncing off of him to swat playfully at the rest of the team before taking up his proper spot in line.

“Ah, yes, the true Fury. Honestly, with someone like Josten around, why do we even have a mascot?”

Nila joked, her own face lit up with a fierce grin.

The Furies were hardly the Foxes, but regardless of their pasts, they banded together over the thrill of dominating on the court, of struggling for every win and fighting tooth-and-nail against every loss. They were a team of passion and adrenaline. Sometimes that meant they made mistakes or pushed themselves or their opponents too hard, but they never regretted it. Neil, never regretted it.

“All right team, listen up!” Their coach called, shouting to be heard over the crowd just outside of the tunnel and the announcer making his way through the Marauders’ line-up.

“You’ve been working hard all week and all season. I know there are some other external factors pushing you to be your best for this game,” His gaze dragged over Neil for just a moment. “and while I’m glad it’s pulled some of your heads out of your asses, don’t let it make you sloppy. This may be a pirate court, but ships burn and flags fall to even the slightest miscalculation. Now let’s show those Marauders who’s boss!”

And with that warning and pep-talk all wrapped up into one, the Furies turned their attention to the court and stepped into the roaring wave of supporters and enemies alike.

Neil had warned his fellow strikers in the practices leading up to the game of Andrew’s unpredictability. “He’ll try to shut me out completely, but there’s no telling if he’ll put the effort in against anyone else.” He half-explained. “We need to put as many points on the board as possible before that happens.”

The Marauders liked using Andrew as a last line of defense, throwing him on in the second half. Even a bored Andrew had the potential to make better saves than any other goalie, plus it gave him time to watch how the other team’s strikers played. Thankfully, the Furies typically played Neil at the start and end of the games. Unlike the Foxes, they had more than enough people to switch people out in a quarterly fashion rather than waiting until a substitute was actually necessary. It allowed him to play hard and start the team off on the right foot and then rest before giving it his all to clinch a win, or at least drag the score closer to even. This meant that Neil and Andrew didn’t share the court until part-way through the second half.

He heard the crowd roaring, a chorus of cheers and boos, as he stepped into the court and clacked sticks with the striker he was replacing. However, he only had eyes for Andrew. The goalie had been casually resetting from the goal his strikers had just scored, but his stance shifted when he caught Neil’s gaze. Though it was nearly impossible to see from halfway across the court, Neil grinned. What was clearly visible, however, was the mocking two-finger salute he gave Andrew before taking his starting spot on the half-line. For the first time all game, when the buzzer sounded Minyard looked tensed to protect his goal.

The Furies’ plan to rack up as many points as possible before Neil and Andrew faced off went about as well as possible considering that they still had the whole rest of the team of professional players to deal with in that time. Andrew didn’t put up much of a fight against Neil’s fellow strikers, but he didn’t just stand there disinterested either. They had a two-point lead when Neil came on and he would be damned if he let that slip.

The Marauder’s backline, newly replenished, had apparently made it their goal to keep Neil from even getting near the goal. Their efforts would have been admirable if their rivalry had any actual substance to it, but even just the fact that Neil knew their persistence and borderline fouls bothered Andrew more than it bothered him gave him extra strength to push through. In the end, their efforts were futile. He was too quick, too resigned to the possibility of injury and too determined to make his shots to be stopped by something as mundane as solidarity.

Andrew, it seemed, didn’t appreciate this either.

The first shot Neil took on him, ricocheted all the way to the far court wall.

Even inside their plexiglass box, the scream of the crowd at that power move and Andrew’s return salute was deafening. Neil bared his teeth and kept going.

His second, third and fourth attempts were similarly thwarted, though the last time, Andrew had the audacity to slam it back at him fact and hard enough that Neil stumbled back several steps in order to retain possession long enough to pass it back to his dealer. It was a warning and a challenge all in one. Neil couldn’t out-power Andrew like he had the backliners, not when Andrew knew him so well. He had to play smarter.

A thrill ran through him, even as the Furies lost possession and their goal lit up red. By the time they’d moved into position to restart play, Neil had already planned out his next goal, the possibilities stretching out before him like a hundred different threads of light – all leading to the wall behind Andrew’s back. He turned to look at his fellow striker, inclining his head once he had Beckett’s attention. The man grinned back and let out a whoop as the buzzer sounded.

Neil, who typically sprinted at the start of play, hesitated for just a moment. Nila had possession of the ball to start the game and Beckett was the obvious choice to pass to given their positions. She didn’t waste time throwing a quizzical look in Neil’s direction, but everyone knew his main strength was his speed. Likewise, he kept his focus on the backliner charging towards him and counted to three in his head before finally taking off. For a moment, it looked like he would hit the man head-on, but then he swerved, changing his course so that he was on the opposite side of the course. Beckett passed him the ball high off of the wall and then juked out of the way of his own backliner’s attempt to check him. Neil knew they only had a few moments to plan his best route before both of the backliners would converge on him.

He wasn’t in the ideal position and ten steps wouldn’t be enough to get there, so he shot the ball back to Beckett, diverting the woman who was supposed to be Neil’s mark to guard him. Their brief encounter provided him with the time he needed to get around his own new mark. He whistled and kept moving towards the back wall, picking up speed so that his backliner had to sprint to keep up. Finally, Beckett found the opening and shot the ball back to him with impressive accuracy.

When it found its way into Neil’s waiting net, the backliner was almost upon him, but it was too late. The back wall loomed up in front of him and Andrew had shifted to place himself between Neil and the goal. It was possible that he’d pass it back to Beckett or Nila, but both were tied up with their own defensemen and Andrew could smell a shot like a shark drawn to blood. Four steps and he’d be even with Andrew, six and he’d hit the wall. His backliner breathed down his neck, ready to turn that six into three. Instead of dodging, however, Neil pushed himself harder and launched himself at the wall just before his mark could shove him into it. His right foot propelled him off of the ground and his left reversed his momentum from the wall back toward the court. He twisted his torso and passed to himself off of the wall, catching it just after clearing his backliner’s hunched form.

The first step stumbled.

The second secured.

The third pivoted.

The fourth provided enough torque for a backhand shot right into the unprotected center of Andrew’s goal.

Neil didn’t know what was more deafening, the utter silence from the players and crowd as the goal lit up red, or the roar of disbelief as the buzzer sounded half a second too late and everyone went wild.

He did know, however, that the momentum from his trick shot him forward so that he tumbled head over heels to lay flat on his back in the mayhem. He grinned up at the ceiling as everyone around him freaked out. Intellectually, he knew he should get up before that freak-out turned from excitement to dread at a possible injury, but for now he was content to lay there and absorb the moment.

Beckett reached him first.

“You know,” He said, towering over him like a friendly shadow giant against the bright lights of the stadium. “I thought you were absolutely nuts when you first started adding all of those jumps and gymnastics to your circuit. But if that’s what comes out of it, then damn, sign me up.”

Neil’s grin widened and he accepted Beckett’s hand up. Once his pads were straightened out, he turned back towards the goal.

Andrew stood there like a statue, immoveable, immutable, invincible. Except Neil had just scored on him. The goalie wore his disdain plainly on his face and Neil knew, short of another crazy stunt or miracle, it was the last goal their team would make that night. But it was worth it. Worth it for the thrill, the point, the so-called rivalry. It was worth it for the way Andrew stood on an Exy court and felt – even if his feelings had more to do with his annoyance for Neil than the actual game.

This time, when Neil smiled, it was small and private. And even though there was no way for Andrew to see it, he huffed and called out after him in Russian.

“Idiot.”

“How much money do you think I just won Allison?”

Neil replied cheekily.

The rest of the players froze for a moment, given that Andrew very rarely said anything to anyone on the court – especially not to the other team, but when Neil walked calmly away, they followed suit.

True to his prediction, Andrew locked down the goal for the rest of the game, regardless of who was shooting at him. Despite this, Neil put his best effort in. He used the time more to irritate Andrew with trick shots that made him work for it or aiming at the top of the goalie’s helmet or his left foot. He’d probably pay for it later on, but it was worth it for the fire he saw in Andrew’s eyes each time.

The Furies won 7-6.

No matter how they tried to play things, the Furies knew there was no escaping Neil doing press duty for the game. It was too exciting of a game and his reported rivalry with Andrew was too high-profile for anyone in the room to let it go. So rather than waste other players’ time fielding questions that weren’t actually for them, Coach threw Neil out after their showers alongside the team’s captain with a strict warning not to start anything.

He knew how futile it would have been to demand he remain completely civil.

“Raymond! That was one hell of a game. How do you feel about the Furies’ chance for the National Cup this year?”

Neil’s captain grinned.

“Honestly, Julia, I think the team really showed themselves tonight. We were up against a tough opponent on their home court, but still managed to come out on top. We couldn’t have done that without relying on each other and staying sharp. I think tonight’s game is a good indicator of the season the Furies are looking forward to.”

Predictably, the actual Exy questions ran out long before their time with the press did. Neil wanted to look at his watch to gauge how long they’d managed to stay on topic, but he kept his attention on the reporter as they inevitably brought up Andrew.

“Neil, how did tonight’s game feel for you? That was one hell of a goal in the second half, but it had to have been frustrating to be shut out the rest of the game.”

“We came into this game expecting a hard fight. If the goalie wanted to add a little personal challenge to it, then that’s his prerogative. It wasn’t a perfect game, but the way I see it, we won. I’m more than happy with the results.”

“Speaking of personal challenge, both you and Minyard have been incredibly vague about this growing rivalry, but after tonight, it doesn’t seem like it’s likely to die down anytime soon.”

“Is there a question in there?”

The Furies’ captain admonished. The reporter inclined their head and rephrased their point, still directing it at Neil.

“If you could, perhaps, shed a little light on how, exactly this rivalry came to be or why you both seem intent on letting it continue?”

Neil shrugged.

“Andrew hates me. Always has. As for me, well, I guess my survival instincts aren’t as good as they used to be.”

He grinned sharply into the camera, too smug to resemble his father.

“Now, are there any more questions actually relevant to tonight’s game? I did just spend two hours running around and the hotel we’re staying at has a Jacuzzi.”

Beside him, his captain muttered a quiet “thank god” when no one responded and he was able to wrap things up with a quick goodbye before herding Neil as far away from the microphones as possible. Neil found it funny that he thought they’d gotten off lightly.

While he hadn’t lied about being tired, or the hotel room having a nice tub, Neil did not return to it when he begged off celebrating with the team early on. Instead, he typed a familiar address into his GPS and drove 20 minutes to a more suburban area, pulling his crossover into the open garage of a nondescript grey house. Beside it, long cooled, resided a black Maserati.

“Took your time.”

Said the figure lurking in the doorway into the house, clad completely in black. Neil looked up from the car to meet Andrew’s hazel eyes. He shrugged.

“Some of us actually make an effort to bond with our team.”

“Well if you’d rather do that, then don’t let me get in your way.”

Andrew’s comment was snide, but his tone level. Still, Neil rolled his eyes and walked around his car to the steps in front of Andrew.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Pity.”

Andrew replied, acknowledging his current height advantage only with a sweep of his eyes. After a moment, he pushed off of the door jamb and turned to go back inside.

“I’m not kissing you in the garage.”

He called back, leaving Neil to shut the outer door and follow him hastily inside.

“You were great tonight, you know.” He yelled in after the blonde. The thud of the freezer door told him Andrew was in the kitchen.

“I’m certainly not touching you if you’re going to talk about Exy the whole time.”

Neil grinned, watching shamelessly as Andrew stood from returning his ice-cream to the freezer. He waited until he had the blonde’s full attention before he stepped up into his space, his eyes glittering with playful question.

“Then why don’t you shut me up?”

Andrew rolled his eyes, but the kiss he pulled Neil into betrayed him and Neil sank into it.

#aftg #tfc #neil josten #Andrew MinyarD #andriel #the rivalry #a whole slew of oc professional exy players bc neil deserves good things and supportive people in his life #in which I try to write #idk if there will be more in this au #this is all i have so far tho #jk #there's a part 3 now

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jennifersnyderca90 · 6 years

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Voice Phishing Scams Are Getting More Clever

Most of us have been trained to be wary of clicking on links and attachments that arrive in emails unexpected, but it’s easy to forget scam artists are constantly dreaming up innovations that put a new shine on old-fashioned telephone-based phishing scams. Think you’re too smart to fall for one? Think again: Even technology experts are getting taken in by some of the more recent schemes (or very nearly).

Matt Haughey is the creator of the community Weblog MetaFilter and a writer at Slack. Haughey banks at a small Portland credit union, and last week he got a call on his mobile phone from an 800-number that matched the number his credit union uses.

Actually, he got three calls from the same number in rapid succession. He ignored the first two, letting them both go to voicemail. But he picked up on the third call, thinking it must be something urgent and important. After all, his credit union had rarely ever called him.

Haughey said he was greeted by a female voice who explained that the credit union had blocked two phony-looking charges in Ohio made to his debit/ATM card. She proceeded to then read him the last four digits of the card that was currently in his wallet. It checked out.

Haughey told the lady that he would need a replacement card immediately because he was about to travel out of state to California. Without missing a beat, the caller said he could keep his card and that the credit union would simply block any future charges that weren’t made in either Oregon or California.

This struck Haughey as a bit off. Why would the bank say they were freezing his card but then say they could keep it open for his upcoming trip? It was the first time the voice inside his head spoke up and said, “Something isn’t right, Matt.” But, he figured, the customer service person at the credit union was trying to be helpful: She was doing him a favor, he reasoned.

The caller then read his entire home address to double check it was the correct destination to send a new card at the conclusion of his trip. Then the caller said she needed to verify his mother’s maiden name. The voice in his head spoke out in protest again, but then banks had asked for this in the past. He provided it.

Next she asked him to verify the three digit security code printed on the back of his card. Once more, the voice of caution in his brain was silenced: He’d given this code out previously in the few times he’d used his card to pay for something over the phone.

Then she asked him for his current card PIN, just so she could apply that same PIN to the new card being mailed out, she assured him. Ding, ding, ding went the alarm bells in his head. Haughey hesitated, then asked the lady to repeat the question. When she did, he gave her the PIN, and she assured him she’d make sure his existing PIN also served as the PIN for his new card.

Haughey said after hanging up he felt fairly certain the entire transaction was legitimate, although the part about her requesting the PIN kept nagging at him.

“I balked at challenging her because everything lined up,” he said in an interview with KrebsOnSecurity. “But when I hung up the phone and told a friend about it, he was like, ‘Oh man, you just got scammed, there’s no way that’s real.'”

Now more concerned, Haughey visited his credit union to make sure his travel arrangements were set. When he began telling the bank employee what had transpired, he could tell by the look on her face that his friend was right.

A review of his account showed that there were indeed two fraudulent charges on his account from earlier that day totaling $3,400, but neither charge was from Ohio. Rather, someone used a counterfeit copy of his debit card to spend more than $2,900 at a Krogers near Atlanta, and to withdraw almost $500 from an ATM in the same area. After the unauthorized charges, he had just $300 remaining in his account.

“People I’ve talked to about this say there’s no way they’d fall for that, but when someone from a trustworthy number calls, says they’re from your small town bank, and sounds incredibly professional, you’d fall for it, too,” Haughey said.

Fraudsters can use a variety of open-source and free tools to fake or “spoof” the number displayed as the caller ID, lending legitimacy to phone phishing schemes. Often, just sprinkling in a little foreknowledge of the target’s personal details — SSNs, dates of birth, addresses and other information that can be purchased for a nominal fee from any one of several underground sites that sell such data — adds enough detail to the call to make it seem legitimate.

A CLOSE CALL

Cabel Sasser is founder of a Mac and iOS software company called Panic Inc. Sasser said he almost got scammed recently after receiving a call that appeared to be the same number as the one displayed on the back of his Wells Fargo ATM card.

“I answered, and a Fraud Department agent said my ATM card has just been used at a Target in Minnesota, was I on vacation?” Sasser recalled in a tweet about the experience.

What Sasser didn’t mentioned in his tweet was that his corporate debit card had just been hit with two instances of fraud: Someone had charged $10,000 worth of metal air ducts to his card. When he disputed the charge, his bank sent a replacement card.

“I used the new card at maybe four places and immediately another fraud charge popped up for like $20,000 in custom bathtubs,” Sasser recalled in an interview with KrebsOnSecurity. “The morning this scam call came in I was spending time trying to figure out who might have lost our card data and was already in that frame of mind when I got the call about fraud on my card.”

And so the card-replacement dance began.

“Is the card in your possession?,” the caller asked. It was. The agent then asked him to read the three-digit CVV code printed on the back of his card.

After verifying the CVV, the agent offered to expedite a replacement, Sasser said. “First he had to read some disclosures. Then he asked me to key in a new PIN. I picked a random PIN and entered it. Verified it again. Then he asked me to key in my current PIN.”

That made Sasser pause. Wouldn’t an actual representative from Wells Fargo’s fraud division already have access to his current PIN?

“It’s just to confirm the change,” the caller told him. “I can’t see what you enter.”

“But…you’re the bank,” he countered. “You have my PIN, and you can see what I enter…”

The caller had a snappy reply for this retort as well.

“Only the IVR [interactive voice response] system can see it,” the caller assured him. “Hey, if it helps, I have all of your account info up…to confirm, the last four digits of your Social Security number are XXXX, right?”

Sure enough, that was correct. But something still seemed off. At this point, Sasser said he told the agent he would call back by dialing the number printed on his ATM card — the same number his mobile phone was already displaying as the source of the call. After doing just that, the representative who answered said there had been no such fraud detected on his account.

“I was just four key presses away from having all my cash drained by someone at an ATM,” Sasser recalled. A visit to the local Wells Fargo branch before his trip confirmed that he’d dodged a bullet.

“The Wells person was super surprised that I bailed out when I did, and said most people are 100 percent taken by this scam,” Sasser said.

HUMAN, ROBOT OR HYBRID?

In Sasser’s case, the scammer was a live person, but some equally convincing voice phishing schemes use a combination of humans and automation. Consider the following vishing attempt, reported to KrebsOnSecurity in August by “Curt,” a longtime reader from Canada.

“I’m both a TD customer and Rogers phone subscriber and just experienced what I consider a very convincing and/or elaborate social engineering/vishing attempt,” Curt wrote. “At 7:46pm I received a call from (647-475-1636) purporting to be from Credit Alert (alertservice.ca) on behalf of TD Canada Trust offering me a free 30-day trial for a credit monitoring service.”

The caller said her name was Jen Hansen, and began the call with what Curt described as “over-the-top courtesy.”

“It sounded like a very well-scripted Customer Service call, where they seem to be trying so hard to please that it seems disingenuous,” Curt recalled. “But honestly it still sounded very much like a real person, not like a text to speech voice which sounds robotic. This sounded VERY natural.”

Ms. Hansen proceeded to tell Curt that TD Bank was offering a credit monitoring service free for one month, and that he could cancel at any time. To enroll, he only needed to confirm his home mailing address.

“I’m mega paranoid (I read krebsonsecurity.com daily) and asked her to tell me what address I had on their file, knowing full well my home address can be found in a variety of ways,” Curt wrote in an email to this author. “She said, ‘One moment while I access that information.'”

After a short pause, a new voice came on the line.

“And here’s where I realized I was finally talking to a real human — a female with a slight French accent — who read me my correct address,” Curt recalled.

After another pause, Ms. Hansen’s voice came back on the line. While she was explaining that part of the package included free antivirus and anti-keylogging software, Curt asked her if he could opt-in to receive his credit reports while opting-out of installing the software.

“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” the voice identifying itself as Ms. Hansen replied. Curt repeated himself. After another, “I’m sorry, can you repeat that,” Curt asked Ms. Hansen where she was from.

The voice confirmed what was indicated by the number displayed on his caller ID: That she was calling from Barry, Ontario. Trying to throw the robot voice further off-script, Curt asked what the weather was like in Barry, Ontario. Another Long pause. The voice continued describing the offered service.

“I asked again about the weather, and she said, ‘I’m sorry, I don’t have that information. Would you like me to transfer you to someone that does?’ I said yes and again the real person with a French accent started speaking, ignoring my question about the weather and saying that if I’d like to continue with the offer I needed to provide my date of birth. This is when I hung up and immediately called TD Bank.” No one from TD had called him, they assured him.

FULLY AUTOMATED PHONE PHISHING

And then there are the fully-automated voice phishing scams, which can be be equally convincing. Last week I heard from “Jon,” a cybersecurity professional with more than 30 years of experience under his belt (Jon asked to leave his last name out of this story).

Answering a call on his mobile device from a phone number in Missouri, Jon was greeted with the familiar four-note AT&T jingle, followed by a recorded voice saying AT&T was calling to prevent his phone service from being suspended for non-payment.

“It then prompted me to enter my security PIN to be connected to a billing department representative,” Jon said. “My number was originally an AT&T number (it reports as Cingular Wireless) but I have been on T-Mobile for several years, so clearly a scam if I had any doubt. However, I suspect that the average Joe would fall for it.”

WHAT CAN YOU DO?

Just as you would never give out personal information if asked to do so via email, never give out any information about yourself in response to an unsolicited phone call.

Phone phishing, like email scams, usually invokes an element of urgency in a bid to get people to let their guard down. If call has you worried that there might be something wrong and you wish to call them back, don’t call the number offered to you by the caller. If you want to reach your bank, call the number on the back of your card. If it’s another company you do business with, go to the company’s site and look up their main customer support number.

Unfortunately, this may take a little work. It’s not just banks and phone companies that are being impersonated by fraudsters. Reports on social media suggest many consumers also are receiving voice phishing scams that spoof customer support numbers at Apple, Amazon and other big-name tech companies. In many cases, the scammers are polluting top search engine results with phony 800-numbers for customer support lines that lead directly to fraudsters.

These days, scam calls happen on my mobile so often that I almost never answer my phone unless it appears to come from someone in my contacts list. The Federal Trade Commission’s do-not-call list does not appear to have done anything to block scam callers, and the major wireless carriers seem to be pretty useless in blocking incessant robocalls, even when the scammers are impersonating the carriers themselves, as in Jon’s case above.

I suspect people my age (mid-40s) and younger also generally let most unrecognized calls go to voicemail. It seems to be a very different reality for folks from an older generation, many of whom still primarily call friends and family using land lines, and who will always answer a ringing phone whenever it is humanly possible to do so.

It’s a good idea to advise your loved ones to ignore calls unless they appear to come from a friend or family member, and to just hang up the moment the caller starts asking for personal information.

from https://krebsonsecurity.com/2018/10/voice-phishing-scams-are-getting-more-clever/

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amberdscott2 · 6 years

Text

Voice Phishing Scams Are Getting More Clever

Haughey said after hanging up he felt fairly certain the entire transaction was legitimate, although the part about her requesting the PIN kept nagging at him.

A CLOSE CALL

“I answered, and a Fraud Department agent said my ATM card has just been used at a Target in Minnesota, was I on vacation?” Sasser recalled in a tweet about the experience.

And so the card-replacement dance began.

“Is the card in your possession?,” the caller asked. It was. The agent then asked him to read the three-digit CVV code printed on the back of his card.

That made Sasser pause. Wouldn’t an actual representative from Wells Fargo’s fraud division already have access to his current PIN?

“It’s just to confirm the change,” the caller told him. “I can’t see what you enter.”

“But…you’re the bank,” he countered. “You have my PIN, and you can see what I enter…”

The caller had a snappy reply for this retort as well.

“The Wells person was super surprised that I bailed out when I did, and said most people are 100 percent taken by this scam,” Sasser said.

HUMAN, ROBOT OR HYBRID?

The caller said her name was Jen Hansen, and began the call with what Curt described as “over-the-top courtesy.”

After a short pause, a new voice came on the line.

“And here’s where I realized I was finally talking to a real human — a female with a slight French accent — who read me my correct address,” Curt recalled.

FULLY AUTOMATED PHONE PHISHING

WHAT CAN YOU DO?

Just as you would never give out personal information if asked to do so via email, never give out any information about yourself in response to an unsolicited phone call.

from Amber Scott Technology News https://krebsonsecurity.com/2018/10/voice-phishing-scams-are-getting-more-clever/

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