Chapter 70: Digital Exorcism
The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting harsh shadows across the scarred conference table. Karn’s fingers drummed a relentless, silent rhythm on the laminate surface, the only sign of the fury banked behind his icy composure. Across from him, Chad methodically unpacked sleek, unfamiliar forensic equipment from a padded case, his movements economical and precise. Kevin, utterly naked and seemingly oblivious to the tension, bounced lightly from foot to foot near the wall of student photographs, his bare soles slapping softly on the linoleum. His complete lack of clothing, paradoxically, lent him an air of focused professionalism in this strange context. He was a tool perfectly suited to its task.
"We need to locate and eliminate specific image files," Karn stated, his voice devoid of its usual smooth charm, replaced by a cold, cutting clarity. He slid a small, silver data chip across the table towards Chad. "Leaked surveillance photos of Pete Riverton. Fully nude. Originating from Titan Headquarters' internal surveillance network. Target: Patrick Vale's suspected access points and all downstream distribution. Erasure must be absolute. Shadow archives, backup caches, cloud mirrors. Obliterate every pixel." His gaze, sharp as flint, locked onto Chad's. "Except…" A slight, almost imperceptible hesitation. "Except any copies stored on the device registered to Mrs. Jenny Riverton. Those remain untouched."
Chad caught the chip, turning it once in his large fingers. He nodded, his expression neutral. "Understood. Full erasure protocol, excluding Mrs. Riverton's device." He looked towards Kevin, who had stopped bouncing and was now tilting his head, listening intently. "Kevin needs reference images. Specific visual markers for the tracking algorithm. We don't have the original files."
Silence stretched. Pete felt the familiar prickle of exposure crawl up his spine, even fully clothed. The jail, the photos, the violation – it all compressed the air in his lungs. Karn’s eyes flicked to him, a silent question.
Chad continued, his tone pragmatic. "If it is acceptable for Mr. Riverton to provide the reference material directly, in this state," he gestured vaguely at the room, "we can initiate the procedure immediately. Real-time capture would be optimal."
All eyes turned to Pete. The weight of Karn’s trust, the desperate need to erase those stolen glimpses of his vulnerability, warred with the instinctive dread of baring himself again, here, now. But Chad’s calm assessment, Karn’s unwavering presence, even Tarn’s watchful, supportive gaze from where he leaned against the doorframe… they tipped the scales. These were Karn’s chosen specialists. He trusted Karn.
Pete pushed his chair back, the legs scraping loudly. He stood. "I'm okay with it," he said, his voice firmer than he felt. "If it helps… if it gets rid of them… I’ll do it."
He barely finished the sentence.
"Naked!" Kevin chirped, his eyes lighting up with pure, unadulterated delight. "Pete wants naked! Like Kevin!" He moved faster than thought. A blur of pale skin and cheerful energy streaked across the room. Pete had a split second to register wide, excited eyes before Kevin’s hands were a flurry at his belt, his zipper, the buttons of his shirt.
"Whoa! Hey—" Pete’s startled yelp was cut off as fabric pooled at his ankles. His tie was whipped over his head. His undershirt followed. In less than three seconds, Pete stood as naked as the day he was born, clothes in a heap around his feet, the sterile air chilling his skin. He instinctively crossed his arms over his chest, his face flaming.
"Friend!" Silas materialized beside Kevin, beaming. He pointed a long, slender finger directly at Pete’s exposed groin. "Kevin Friend! This is Baby Pete!" he announced with proprietary pride, as if introducing a favored pet. "Say hello, Baby Pete!"
Kevin gasped, his eyes wide with wonder. "Hello, Baby Pete!" he breathed. Before Pete could even process the absurdity, Kevin had bent forward and gently, almost reverently, wrapped both hands around Pete’s flaccid cock and balls. He gave them a soft, friendly hug. "Hello, friend!"
Pete froze, his blush deepening to crimson, a strangled sound escaping him. Tarn choked back a laugh. Karn’s drumming fingers stopped dead. Only Chad remained utterly unfazed, already adjusting a small, high-resolution camera in his hands.
"Kevin. Reference photos. Now, please," Chad instructed calmly, lifting the camera to his eye.
Kevin released "Baby Pete" with a final pat and bounced back a step, still grinning. Chad moved with unhurried efficiency. "Arms down, Mr. Riverton. Please." Pete, numb with disbelief, slowly lowered his arms, feeling utterly exposed. The camera shutter clicked with mechanical precision. Front profile. Three-quarter view. Back profile. Close-up of his face, tight with embarrassed confusion. Chad circled him, the lens capturing every angle under the harsh light. When he lowered the camera, he connected it via a thin cable to a compact console he’d set up on the table. Kevin immediately darted over, peering at the screen as the new images downloaded.
"Okay!" Kevin declared, rubbing his hands together. His fingers flew over the console’s holographic interface, a dizzying dance of taps and swipes Pete couldn’t hope to follow. Lines of code, complex search parameters, and image recognition matrices cascaded across the main display screen on the wall. Kevin worked with intense focus, a low hum escaping him. "Finding Pete sparkles... everywhere sparkles... except..." He tapped a final, emphatic command. "Except Mama Jenny phone! Safe sparkles!"
"Excellent," Karn murmured, the ice in his voice thawing a fraction. He watched the screen, a predator awaiting confirmation of the kill.
Silas, unable to contain himself any longer, started a little shimmy near Kevin. "Erase sparkles! Poof!" he sang softly. Kevin, catching the rhythm, began to bounce again, his focus still partially on the screen. Silas danced closer, mirroring Kevin's movements. Together, they shuffled sideways in a bizarre, joyful two-step towards the console.
"Now?" Silas whispered loudly, finger poised dramatically over the largest button on the console – a physical, glowing red 'ENTER' key.
"Now!" Kevin giggled.
In perfect, absurd unison, both of their index fingers slammed down on the button.
Karn leaned forward slightly. "Full erasure protocol," he restated, the command final. "Including all shadow archives and backup caches. Leave no pixel behind."
The main screen blinked. The complex code vanished. In its place, a simple animation began. A fluffy, cartoon hamster wearing a tiny blue janitor’s cap and holding a disproportionately large mop trotted cheerfully onto a black screen. She gave a small, pixelated wave, then set to work. Her mop swished back and forth with vigour, leaving trails of sparkling light that dissolved the blackness into pure, empty white. As she cleaned, she began to sing in a surprisingly sweet, synthesized voice: "Sweep the bits, wipe the bytes, make the darkness clean and bright! No more pictures, shine the light, scrub them wrongs and make them right!"
She twirled her mop, then spun herself around in a dizzy circle, her cap askew. With a final, vigorous swipe that covered the entire screen in white, she waved cheerfully, blew a pixelated kiss, and trotted off the screen into the bottom right corner, disappearing completely. The screen remained pure, blank white.
Kevin threw his hands in the air, bouncing high. "Mission accomplished! Sparkles gone-gone! Only Mama Jenny sparkles safe!"
Silas whooped and grabbed Kevin's hands, pulling him into a spinning celebratory dance around the cluttered meeting room. Pete stood frozen in the center of it all, stark naked, the echo of the cheerful hamster song in his ears, the chill of the room finally registering on his skin. The images were gone. Truly gone.
Except for his mother’s phone.
He shivered, not just from the cold.
Chad lifted the camera he’d used moments ago, its lens catching the harsh fluorescent light. "Kevin’s program," he stated matter-of-factly, turning the display screen towards Pete, Karn, Tarn, and Silas, "also scrubs the source. Offline equipment included." Pete stared at the camera’s preview screen. Empty. The images Chad had just taken of him, naked and exposed under the sterile lights, were utterly gone. Vanished as if they’d never existed. Only blank frames remained. "All photos," Chad confirmed, his voice calm and final, "are now erased. Except those residing on Mrs. Jenny Riverton’s registered devices. Those remain untouched."
The heavy door slammed open, bouncing against the wall. Silas stormed in, his usually cheerful face contorted with uncharacteristic fury. He thrust his wristcomm towards Kevin, displaying a crisp headshot of Patrick Vale. "Bad man!" Silas hissed, his voice tight and sharp. "This guy! Did bad things! To Baby Pete!" He pointed emphatically at Patrick's smug face on the screen. "Needs punishment! Big punishment!"
Kevin’s cheerful bounce vanished instantly. His eyes narrowed, focusing on Patrick’s image with startling intensity. A low growl, surprisingly fierce, rumbled in his throat. "He dared?" Kevin whispered, the words sharp as broken glass. "He dared doing bad... to Kevin's new friend?" The naked fury radiating from him was palpable, a sudden storm in the sterile room. He whirled around, a blur of pale skin and righteous anger, and stormed back to the laptop console Silas had used earlier.
His fingers flew over the holographic keyboard, a furious staccato rhythm. He snatched Patrick's photo from Silas's wristcomm projection with a sharp gesture, dragging it into the program interface. Lines of dense, incomprehensible code cascaded across the main screen faster than Pete could follow. Kevin slammed his finger down on the glowing red 'ENTER' key with a final, decisive crack.
The screen flickered violently. From the bottom right corner, five cartoon hamsters marched onto the display. They wore identical miniature janitor uniforms – blue coveralls, tiny caps – but their expressions were pure, pixelated rage. Their little fists clenched, they stomped angrily towards Patrick Vale's photo centered on the screen. Each hamster raised a comically oversized mop high above its head. With synchronized fury, they brought the mops down hard, slap-slap-slap-slap-slap!, directly onto Patrick's face.
One hamster, distinguished by a slightly crooked cap, stepped forward. It struck a dramatic pose, one paw raised skyward. Its form shimmered, pixelating wildly before resolving into a miniature Ultraman. A bright, crackling laser beam shot from its raised arm, striking Patrick's photo dead center. The image blackened instantly, edges curling and burning away digitally, leaving only a charred, smoking silhouette.
The five hamsters regrouped. They took a running start, leaped impossibly high into the air within the screen's confines, and delivered a perfectly choreographed flying kick. Patrick's burnt photo sailed across the digital void and vanished with a satisfying plink into a pixelated trash bin icon that appeared just in time. The bin lid snapped shut.
Pete blinked, utterly bewildered by the bizarre digital retribution unfolding before him. Tarn burst out laughing, a loud, genuine sound that echoed off the bare walls. Silas cackled hysterically, pointing at the screen and hopping from foot to foot. "Bad man gone! Hamster justice! Poof!"
Karn watched the screen, a slow, devilish smile spreading across his face, cold satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. It was the smile of a chessmaster seeing a particularly satisfying gambit pay off. He turned his head slowly towards Pete, the predatory gleam softening only slightly. "Pete," Karn said, his voice low and deliberate, cutting through Tarn and Silas's laughter. "Look at your phone. Now."
Pete fumbled for his phone in the pile of discarded clothes, fingers numb. The screen flared to life, blinding him momentarily. His feed was exploding. Every major financial news site, industry bulletin board, even social media – screaming the same headline in pixelated horror: PATRICK VALE PERMANENTLY BLACKLISTED ACROSS ALL CORPORATE AND ORGANIZATIONAL NETWORKS. EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY.
"Whoa," Tarn breathed, leaning over his shoulder, the smirk wiped clean. "Total scorched earth, cousin. Damn."
Pete just stared. Blacklisted. From everyone. Everywhere. The sheer, brutal finality of it stole his breath. Patrick wasn't just fired; he was erased from professional existence. Karn hadn't just hunted him; he’d exiled him.
"Bad guy gone!" Kevin chirped, suddenly right beside Pete’s naked hip. Before Pete could react, Kevin wrapped his arms around Pete’s flaccid cock and balls, hugging them tightly against his cheek like a cherished stuffed animal. He beamed up at Pete, eyes sparkling with pure, uncomplicated triumph. "Kevin saved Baby Pete! Kevin’s new friend! Safe now!"
Pete froze, the bizarre intimacy warring with the shock of the news, heat flooding his face again. Silas erupted into a frantic, bouncing jig around the perimeter of the room, narrowly avoiding stacked chairs. "Yes! Yes! Baby Pete has new friend! Pete Friend and Kevin Friend! Friends forever! Baby Pete safe!" His voice was a joyful squeal, punctuated by his shoes slapping the linoleum.
Kevin’s bright energy vanished as suddenly as it appeared. His arms fell away from Pete. He blinked slowly, a profound weariness washing over his face like a dropped curtain. "Magical Prince... needs a sleep," he mumbled, his words slurring. He shuffled the few steps to Chad, who was already turning and crouching slightly. Kevin draped himself over Chad’s broad back like a limp noodle, arms dangling loosely. "Sleep now." His head lolled against Chad’s shoulder, eyes fluttering shut. He was out cold before Chad had fully straightened.
Chad adjusted the sleeping Kevin effortlessly, one large hand securing his naked roommate's thigh. He met Karn’s gaze, giving a single, curt nod. "It’s done. Thank you for the business." His voice was low, calm, utterly professional despite the naked boy asleep on his back. He looked at Silas. "Transfer the fee. Same account as last time."
Silas stopped bouncing, instantly attentive. "Yes! Silas remembers! Transferring now!" His fingers flickered over his wristcomm interface, utterly focused.
Karn inclined his head slightly towards Chad, the predatory satisfaction still lingering in the set of his jaw, though his voice was controlled. "Appreciate the rapid resolution. Both of you." He didn’t smile, but the acknowledgment held weight.
Chad merely nodded again, turned, and walked out of the meeting room, carrying the sleeping Kevin with practiced ease. The door clicked softly shut behind them, leaving a sudden, heavy silence in the sterile room. The fluorescent hum seemed louder. Pete stood naked amidst his clothes, the phantom sensation of Kevin’s hug lingering, the image of Patrick’s digital execution and the stark blacklist notice burned onto his retinas.
Karn scanned the room – Pete frozen, Tarn watchful, Silas finishing his transfer. His expression hardened back to pure, relentless purpose. "Good," he stated, the word sharp as a command. "Silas. Pete. Tarn. Back to the car. Now." He didn't wait for acknowledgement, turning on his heel and striding out into the hallway, the echo of his polished shoes on the linoleum already fading. The storm wasn't over. It was just changing direction.
The sterile chill of the meeting room clung to Pete’s skin even as he scrambled back into his clothes, fingers fumbling with buttons. Karn’s command echoed – urgent, final. He snatched his tie, abandoned the top button, and bolted after Karn’s retreating figure, Tarn and Silas already vanishing into the hallway. The fluorescent hum of the college corridor blurred past him, replaced by the damp, metallic bite of the parking garage air as he burst outside.
Karn’s sleek black sedan idled impatiently. Pete yanked the passenger door open and slid in, breathless. He turned, expecting Karn’s glacial fury, the predatory stillness from the jail. Instead, he found Karn grinning. Not a polite corporate smile, but a wide, genuine, almost boyish grin that transformed his sharp features. It was unnerving.
"Alright!" Karn chirped, slapping the steering wheel lightly. The engine purred louder as he smoothly pulled out. "Detour time. Gotta pick up our new member." His tone was light, cheerful, utterly incongruous with the grim jail they’d left Mark in.
"New... member?" Pete echoed, bewildered. Tarn chuckled softly from the backseat, exchanging a knowing glance with Silas, who was happily tracing patterns on the fogged window. Karn just hummed, tapping his fingers rhythmically on the wheel. The cityscape blurred past, concrete and glass giving way to grimy brick and barred windows. Pete’s stomach tightened. The route was unmistakable. They were heading straight back to the county jail.
The imposing grey facade loomed ahead, bathed in the harsh glare of security lights. Karn pulled up smoothly to the sally port entrance. And there, standing casually under the stark light, was Sean Vance. Titan’s youngest CEO. Thirty, immaculate in a charcoal suit that probably cost more than Pete’s yearly salary, his posture radiating effortless authority. His dark hair was perfectly styled, his gaze sharp and assessing even from a distance. He looked utterly calm, like he was waiting for a lunch reservation, not standing outside a jail.
Sean Vance lifted a hand in casual greeting as Karn pulled the sedan to a smooth stop, his expensive watch glinting under the jail’s harsh lights. "Karn," Sean said, his voice smooth as poured oil, crisp British accent cutting through the damp garage air. He nodded towards the backseat where Pete sat. "Pete. Nasty business."
Karn killed the engine, the sudden silence amplifying the distant clang of a cell door. "Sean," Karn acknowledged, his earlier grin replaced by focused intensity. "You got the update."
Sean leaned down slightly, resting his forearms on Karn's open window frame. "Thoroughly. Patrick forcing Mark to spy for Derek and Liam." He gave a small, dismissive shake of his head. "Amateur hour, really. Poor operational security." He met Karn’s gaze directly, a flicker of appreciation in his cool eyes. "Saw the news feeds." A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Efficient. You gave Patrick the highest education, I see. Thoroughly expelled."
"Necessary curriculum," Karn replied flatly, his knuckles white on the wheel.
"Indeed," Sean agreed. He straightened up, brushing invisible lint from his immaculate suit sleeve. "Spoke with the police liaison myself just now. Mark’s confession, detailing Patrick’s coercion, carries significant weight. We’ve initiated the process to have it formally considered. Mitigation of his sentence is highly probable now." He glanced towards the jail's imposing entrance. "The wheels of justice, grinding slowly but effectively. Leverage applied correctly."
Karn was already opening his door. "Good." He stepped out, his presence immediately commanding the concrete space. "I want Mark." His tone left no room for debate. "Direct oversight. I take full responsibility for his re-education."
Sean raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, intrigued. "Re-education? Under you? That’s… hands-on, Karn. Even for you." He studied Karn’s unyielding expression. "Proposal?"
"Six months probation," Karn stated, each word measured. "Demotion to Black Tag. He works directly for me. Under my eye. Every minute."
Sean considered this, tapping a finger thoughtfully against his chin. The fluorescent lights reflected coldly in his eyes. "Black Tag probation under Tier 1 Executive Oversight." He nodded slowly, a decision made. "Unorthodox, but… acceptable. Given the circumstances and the leverage we now possess. It utilizes the system efficiently." He gestured towards the jail doors. "He’s being processed for release into corporate custody now. Paperwork’s being expedited."
Pete watched from the backseat, a knot of conflicting emotions tightening in his chest. Relief for Mark warred with a deep unease about what "re-education" under Karn truly meant. Black Tag. The lowest rung. Karn’s personal project.
The heavy sally port door buzzed and clanked open. Mark emerged, flanked by two impassive guards. He looked smaller, drained, still wearing the bright orange jumpsuit, his face pale and etched with exhaustion. He blinked in the garage light, eyes wide with disbelief and residual fear. When his gaze landed on Karn, standing tall beside Sean Vance, he flinched violently.
"Mark," Karn said, his voice cutting through the space, devoid of warmth but lacking the jail's earlier ice. "Your situation has changed."
Mark’s eyes darted to Pete in the car, a flicker of shame and desperate hope flashing across his face before snapping back to Karn. He stood rigidly, waiting.
"CEO Vance," Karn continued, nodding towards Sean, "has confirmed your cooperation has secured mitigation of your legal penalties."
Sean offered a curt nod of confirmation. Mark swayed slightly, as if the words were a physical blow releasing tension he hadn't realized he held.
"However," Karn’s voice sharpened, reclaiming Mark’s full, terrified attention, "your betrayal within Titan carries its own consequence." He took a step closer, forcing Mark to look up at him. "You are hereby demoted to Black Tag status. Six months probation. Effective immediately. You will report directly to me. My office. My rules. Your re-education begins now."
Mark’s breath hitched. Black Tag. Directly under Karn. The relief at avoiding prison warred instantly with the terrifying reality of his new position. He looked utterly lost.
"Silas," Karn said, not taking his eyes off Mark.
Silas popped out of the car, beaming. "Yes-yes! Silas is here!"
"Update the database," Karn ordered. "Mark Grubbypank. Status: Black Tag. Probationary. Assigned directly to Karn Thorne, Tier 1 Executive Oversight. Authorization: Sean Vance." He glanced at Sean, who gave another small, confirming nod.
"Updating!" Silas chirped, fingers flying over his wristcomm. "Mark Friend is Black Tag now! Working for Karn Friend! Database sparkling clean!"