Post #2 - The Email

Blasi woke up to the sound of drunken arguing as he fumbled for his glasses. “The dog was talking I swear!” he heard when he opened his blinds to expose his minimalistic apartment. He was never a talker, however that was his motivation for making his pet Husky talk at 11 years old; he decided to go on a walk outside to pick some intoxicated minds. He put on his silk suit, combed his hair, and began the trek downstairs.

The group saw him as he approached them and became startled as men in suits were generally not the nicest to them if they happened to acknowledge them at all. “Hey I know you,” said coco as she slurred the words at him, “you’re that computery guy in 6E.” “Uh, ya that’s me,” Blasi replied as he tried to hide the feelings of confusion and excitement that someone knew who he was. “Why do you where that suit if you just sit inside all day?” Ollie interjected as he eyed Luca’s expensive silk. “Do you know who Deion Sanders is?” he replied. “Of course! One of the greatest NFL players of all time!” “Well, I’m no athlete, but he had a motto that I choose to agree with: ‘If you look good, you feel good. If you feel good, you play good. If you play good, they pay good.’”

“That’s a bit cocky coming from you,” said Coco as she cracked a grin. “Yes but as you can hear my speech is a bit flawed and I look like your typical geek so, I have to make up for it somewhere,” replied Blasi. “By the way,” he continued, “My dog could talk.” “SEEEEEE!” Ollie screamed. “But not in the way your thinking, I just taught my dog various simple phrases that he could then use to tell me what he wants.” “Oh,” Ollie said disappointedly, “This dog was speakin purebred English!” “Yes that is not possible,” Luca said. “I have work to do it was nice talking to you all,” he said. They all said their blurred goodbyes as Blasi returned to his apartment.

As Blasi returned, he opened his computer and saw a notification. He opened it and read the following:

“ Dear Mr. Blasi,

I need your help.

Pierre Leclerc”

Post #1 - The Party

     As Luca Blasi sat on his computer in his dark spacious loft, he heard the bumping music of Griffin Crimson’s party above his head. He always thought it was funny how Crimson always flaunted his wealth for the world to see like he was so special. Blasi had made more than him in his life, yet he never told anyone. However, the fact he never told anyone isn’t solely due to his humble nature; it was also may be his lack of friends. Being born with high functioning autism, it was always hard for him to get out and be social. Instead of making friends, the obsessive and ritualistic nature of Blasi’s illness fueled him to pursue another interest: coding. From a young age, his teacher saw him as a prodigy with a computer. By the age of 19, he had skipped college completely and had built the firewall for over 200 companies. Despite this success, Blasi became disinterested with the corporate life. He wanted more excitement, more danger. He became a hacker.

     The party continued, as Luca pushed his glasses back onto his face as his autistic tick once again slid them down onto the point of his nose. As he sat back in his silk suit, he heard his phone ring from across the room. He knew it was George as that was the only person in his life who he considered somewhat of a friend. “Luca,” said a somber sounding George, “Mr. Evans has just been found murdered in the parking deck.” Luca stopped for a moment as this was unexpected news; nothing interesting ever happened at Pointe Place is his world. He replied, “That’s horrible, thank you for telling me,” before hanging up; their interactions were always short as George knew he wasn’t keen socially. For some reason Blasi thought about his father as he heard of Mr. Evans’s death. “Would I care?” he thought to himself. As a wealthy Swiss banker, Luca’s father never had time to show his son any compassion or sympathy for that matter. After moving out, he vowed to help people like himself deal with people like his dad, and what better way to do that than to steal from the very intuition that stole his father away from him. With each stroke of the keyboard, Blasi grew one step closer to his final goal: hacking his father’s bank.