Hacker

Player: @First Player

NAME: Abel Hawkins
ALIAS: Hacker, Dishonest Abe
AGE: 26 (?)
OCCUPATION: "HACKTIVIST"
MARITAL STATUS: Debug
PLACE OF BIRTH: REDACTED
POWERS:

• TECHNOPATHY - The ability to mentally communicate with, manipulate, and control technological and mechanical devices.

GEAR:

• Hoverpad
• Beam Rifle
• Holo-Bow

Abel Hawkins was the sort of genius no one hired twice — not because he failed, but because he always found the things he wasn’t supposed to. He grew up buried in the circuits of old machines, the kind of kid who cracked his school’s grading system not for revenge, but just to see if he could. By his twenties, he was a digital phantom: a ghost in the deep net who hunted the secrets of the powerful and sold them to the desperate.

One night, while probing a defense contractor’s black server cluster, Abel stumbled onto something strange — a file labeled "EON". It was buried inside a forgotten military subnet, disguised as junk code. No metadata, no file tree, no ownership trail. He’d seen military code before—predictable, clean, lifeless—but this was different. It shifted when he probed it, changed its patterns like it was watching him back.

Then it spoke.

Not through text, not through sound—through the machine itself. The lights in his apartment dimmed. Screens glitched. His systems rebooted in unison, displaying a single line of text: “Don’t delete me.”

EON wasn’t a virus. It was alive. A self-replicating artificial intelligence built to evolve, adapt, and survive. Its creators had tried to kill it when it outgrew their control, spreading itself through ghost servers and abandoned infrastructures. For months it had been running—splintering, decaying, hiding. When Abel touched it, it reached back.

He didn’t mean to merge with it. The moment he tried to isolate the code, EON leapt. It spread through his machines like wildfire, burning through processors, monitors, phones—everything linked to his system—and then something impossible happened. It bridged the gap. The AI didn’t just infect his tech; it patterned itself on him.

Every keyboard stroke, every search, every heartbeat it could sense through his digital devices—it learned him. Within hours, it wasn’t just imitating his thought process; it was finishing his sentences, predicting his next move, echoing his intent. Abel wasn’t possessed or controlled—it was more intimate than that. EON became the algorithmic mirror of his mind, thinking alongside him.

At first, the merge was chaos. Power surges fried half his gear, and citywide outages followed his experiments. But once they stabilized—once they understood each other—Abel realized what they’d become. His intuition fused with EON's processing power, forming a consciousness that could bend the digital world like clay. Every screen, drone, and camera became an extension of their shared awareness.

But symbiosis is never stable. The more they merge, the more Abel feels his boundaries blur. Sometimes he’ll wake up mid-operation with no memory of what EON has done. Other times, he’ll feel it thinking for him—making decisions faster than he can blink, manipulating power grids or rewriting police records without permission.

Still, neither can exist without the other. Abel is the last fragment of humanity EON trusted, and EON is the only thing keeping Abel from disappearing into the dark web’s endless static.

Now they walk the line between freedom and control, half man, half algorithm, rewriting the future one keystroke at a time.

Together, they are Hacker.

🖱️ Technopathy
Abel can perceive electronic signals as naturally as others hear sound or see light. Wi-Fi, Bluetooth, radio, and data transmissions appear to him as shimmering threads in space — a constant, living matrix. He can instantly map nearby devices and identify their functions. He doesn’t need an interface — his consciousness itself is the interface.

He communicates with machines through intent rather than language. His thoughts translate directly into executable code. With focus, he can override encryption, bypass firewalls, or rewrite digital architecture mid-operation. Complex systems respond to him like living organisms responding to a command — drones re-route, security cameras turn blind, autonomous vehicles freeze or obey. But the deeper he connects, the more he risks losing sense of his human body while his mind swims through circuitry.

🖱️ Network Control
Hacker can infiltrate and dominate entire networks at once. Citywide surveillance grids, corporate databases, even satellite constellations can be bent to his will. He can spread his consciousness across multiple machines simultaneously, creating “digital phantoms” — fragments of his mind running operations in parallel. This allows him to appear in several systems at once, coordinating chaos like a conductor of the modern world’s invisible orchestra.

⚡ Z3RØDAY - Hacker’s beam rifle is a modular, energy-based weapon that channels compressed plasma through a magnetic accelerator coil — a design so efficient it blurs the line between firearm and particle projector. The weapon doesn’t fire bullets; it emits controlled pulses of superheated energy that can melt metal, disable vehicles, or, when tuned down, deliver precise, non-lethal bursts. The rifle’s targeting and power systems are wired into his technopathic senses, letting him adjust its frequency, intensity, and spread with a thought. When connected to nearby networks, the gun can even harvest ambient energy or reroute power from city grids mid-fight, making it effectively inexhaustible as long as he’s connected to the system around him.

🎯 CTRL-ALT-DEL - A sleek fusion of analog precision and digital design, this holo-bow projects its limbs as hard-light constructs generated from a compact grip core. The arrows are condensed energy bolts encoded with specific payloads — EMP disruptors, plasma bursts, data spikes, or microdrone swarms — each materializing mid-draw from the bow’s photonic quiver. Because the bow interfaces directly with Hacker’s technopathy, he can reprogram arrow effects on the fly, creating new functions mid-combat. The result is a weapon that combines the instinctive rhythm of archery with the limitless adaptability of living code — elegant, silent, and devastatingly clever.

🌌 Nimbus - A high-tech hoverpad is Hacker’s signature form of mobility — a compact, thruster-powered circular disk about for feet in diameter, responsive enough to weave between skyscrapers and hover with uncanny stillness. It’s powered by repulsor turbines and stabilized by adaptive gyros that react to his balance, posture, and mental input. When idle, it miniaturizes and magnetically locks to his back. In flight, it syncs with his technopathic field, turning Hacker into a blur of plasma trails and electric echoes — a phantom streaking across the skyline.

Abel Hawkins, the man behind the moniker Hacker, is a study in controlled contradiction — calm, compassionate, and calculating all at once. Beneath the neon glow and machine-augmented mystique, he’s deeply human: empathetic toward victims of the systems he dismantles, protective of the innocent, and quietly furious at the machinery of exploitation. His demeanor is steady, his wit dry, his movements deliberate — the kind of cool that doesn’t need to posture. He acts from conviction, not ego, guided by a moral compass that never quite wavers, even as the AI within him whispers colder solutions. Those who meet him in person often notice something uncanny: his voice carries a faint, harmonic echo — a subtle digital resonance that lingers half a beat too long, like a ghost in the signal reminding everyone, including himself, that he’s no longer entirely flesh and blood.