From the online journal of Archon1972.
After getting off of IRC with TJ, I fired up the Tails box. For those of you who are more plebian, that’s a particular operating system you can boot into from properly prepared flash drives. All of the tools on my drive allowed me to navigate everything from the internet to the deep web with complete anonymity. So, long as I didn’t fuck up. Once online, I navigated to the secure website we used as a sort of dead drop. My route to the server through the layers of Tor prevented me from being traced, and the page itself was hidden deeply in the bowels of the internet. You couldn’t get to it with just any browser.
I unlocked the text files and spreadsheets. For my first mission, he wanted me to find the bank accounts used by Trump and his cronies and be ready to move money to and from them once that particular phase of our operation was on deck.
I’ll say this for whatever record these words represent. I don’t care who won the presidential election. I’d do this if it was Bernie, Hillary, or the big haired buffoon himself. I hate them all equally. They represent everything wrong with what this country has become. There are a few candidates who know what the hell they’re doing and aren’t owned by special interests, but that’s only because they aren’t in any position to do those corporate vultures any good.
Nope, I wasn’t doing this out of any hatred for the particular target. Mostly, I was doing this because TJ asked me. He did me a solid, once upon a time. The details don’t matter, but thanks to him some files were disappeared that meant I stayed a free man. Whatever drive’s left over I’ll attribute to the god of lulz.
I moved through /pol/ with the grace and speed of an apex predator. I remembered seeing a post about Trump’s tax and other financial information. It was from a trusted source, BlackJesus, and he claimed to have everything you could ask for, if you had the right coin or information.
I checked and BJ was online. I opened up a chat window.
Archon1972 - Hey, BJ, I need what you have.
BlackJesus - Smoove as hell dance moves? All the ladies? What?
Archon1972 - LLOL. No. Well, not today. I want the financial info you posted about. I have need of the New Emperor’s vault and what’s in it.
BlackJesus - Well, I can hook you up with that. You just need to pay me in bitcoin, botnets, or information. Your choice.
Archon1972 - You seemed interested in the files I have from the last Apollo mission.
That and a few other choice tidbits got me what I needed. I slotted away the tax files. They wouldn’t do much good at this point, not by themselves. When I released them alongside the proof of money flowing from Russia into Trump’s business, and from there into some as yet to be determined accounts, there would be more impact. The thing I’d learned from doing this before was there needed to be enough truth in any given lie for it to be believable.
I chuckled as I tapped on keys. At this point, for all I knew, I wouldn’t have to actually be the one to transfer moneys. I’d made a few bets with friends around the net and a few IRL that I’d discover the truth with a capital T and it would be that very thing.
Now it was just a matter of making my way into the various banks the Donald used for his gains, ill gotten or otherwise. There was a short list of routing numbers and accounts. None of it was off shore, but this was a start. I’m sure there were other holes in the information BJ had given me, just as there were in the files I’d sent him.
I opened a series of browsers and my mail client. I had a few email drafts I used when I phished banks. They all had links back to servers and when clicked on, a script would run to give me access to that person’s credentials. My love for breaking banks was one reason Jefferson had given me this assignment. Because it could take me as long as a few days for me to get where I wanted, he’d given it to me relatively early.
While I tweaked and personalized the emails to fit the people I’d be sending them to, I fired up my music client and piped Cell Dweller through the speakers in my work room. The symphonic metal helped me with mindless tasks. The real work would start when one of my victims bit on the bait dangling in front of them. It was early in the day, so there was potential for a few bites by lunch.
By the time I looked up from my work and out into my back yard, the sun had crept fully above the horizon. I closed my laptop, satisfied for now my words would be in front of the eyeballs of their victims soon. I pushed the joystick forward, moving my chair to the sliding glass window. Birds were at the feeder and squirrels waited nearby. I let my mind wander to the seeds of destruction we were planting as a group.
I knew, even then, lives would be on the line either way. People would die because of what we were doing. Riots, armed insurrection, coups - they were never bloodless. I just hoped the overall number of bodies would be fewer and the people would stay awake once our message was out there.
Jefferson, both our “leader” and the president, believed blood was necessary for the occasional refreshing of the source of our freedom. I just knew it was an unavoidable part of being a human being. We were a bloodthirsty race when we first stepped out of the proverbial caves. We would still be one when we were among the stars, no matter what Roddenberry thought.
The ding alerting me that my servers were already getting hits, snapped me out of my dark revery. I grinned at the distraction and did a one-eighty to pull into my desk where the real computers waited. They lit up at my approach and my fingers danced casting more lines and hauling in first the little fish and then the larger ones.