The Virii

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This is a companion fluff story for the /tg/ homebrew game Server Crash.

They hate me, you know.

I hear it in every word they speak to me. People move to avoid me when I have to leave my home, and defensive scripts are held like superstitious charms when I pass.

Why? Because I am the only man in this webfort and for a hundred links in any direction willing to work with Virii. That mad code that infects and destroys everything it touches is my stock and trade.

It doesn't have to infect you. There's something about it, something more in there then simple code. Men have lost their minds trying to understand even a simple worm. I work the twisted, insane code every day. I'm different, stronger, but I have to admit, I'm not exactly...myself anymore. But someone has to do it. Standard firewalls can only do so much against Virii, and there are places thick with rabid code that even the Olds know to avoid.

My door opens. Some young men are in need of some antivirus software. Whatever they're planning, it's made them desperate enough to come straight here. I take the order and step into the storeroom. A hundred hateful eyes stare down at me, a collection of digital daemons that chafe at their bonds, screeching in anger as I pass without looking. I don't plan on releasing them.

Not...today. Not until the time is right.