Desmond Nizar

He let out a hearty laugh, at the suggestion of the droid. "I knew there was a reason I kept you around. I got just the place in mind too. Might need to stop and pick up some things first but, I like your style droid. You arn't content to take the easy route.... even though it might get you dismembered." He jumped up from his seat and moved to the cockpit. Pulling otu of hyperspace, he replotted the destination, and shot forward a moment later. He had a plan alright. The droid had touched upon something he had been dwelling on for some time. After all it wouldn't hurt him to dish out a little payback. But first he would need information, tools, etc etc. However, when it was all said and done it would be something to remember.

It was every kid's dream to go into a candy store, and run around amok, eating candy until their heart's content. Naturally they failed to comprehend just how bloated they would feel just within the first hour of eating non stop candy. Desmond now understood that particular bloated feeling. The first heist had been against mandalmotors. He had taken a cool ten million from their profits. He had then gone so far as to catalog all of their products and works, placing them in his off base database via transmission. He had enough information about mandalorian products to last him a life time now. Strengths and weakness, future products, past products, concepts and designs, he had it all, and then some. He had even left a backdoor in case he ever needed to get in and view the information again. After all no need to make such things difficult. Then as a finishing touch to his heist of the multimillion credit company, he had ripped off their safe and the droid loaded that cash into the ship. That had easily been a pay out of another cool ten mil. Which he would no doubt bequeath to the droid and let him find a way to move that cash. It was the least he could do after all. Especially since that had only been the beginning. He had been here for over a month, unabated. There had been no one to stop him from taking what ever he desired. With such lax security in place, i.e a severe lack of people. He had pretty much done what he wanted. Which included a night of binge drinking over the joy and wonder of such a place, and the utter destruction of maybe one or two buildings. He had really hoped the droid missed the action of that night. Yet after that the bone chilling feeling of a ghost town had begun to settle over him, and so he had thrown himself into his work, hitting everything he deemed of value in such a short time. Naturally that meant he had fallen to taking away the mandalorian's military budget. It was the perfect target. He had days upon days to research anything he wanted, as the capital building lay wide open to him. There was none to stop him, and he spent many days and nights, pouring over the wealth of information, and writing the programs he would need to pull off such a major heist. He had ripped off a military budget before. He was familiar with the protocol, well anyone who checked his back ground would believe that. In theory he knew everything he would need to look for. What happened was when he really hit windfall. The armor company he had taken over, had been owned and operated by the same man who had once ruled this entire planet's economy. Where all the mandalorians were now, he could care less, but the military budget was still wrapped up on mandalore and so that is what he hit. Not the personal bank accounts of however many people had been on the planet. It was a long and tedious process, one that took more hours to even begin than most people would every understand. Yet it was perhaps the most satisfying thing in existence, when he cracked into the budget, and was able to basically write blank checks. He had a little over 300 billion credits to work with. Which was some surprising but, made sense, as mandalorians would probably for the most part fund their own operations. No one knew where all the money went. Well no one but him anyway. His programs ran, and the money was dispersed, into all sorts of small areas both big and small, that he would be able to draw on later. It was a massive amount of money, but he was careful to cover his tracks. Using dummy corporations he had set up in the past to take up a bulk of the transfers. Then using those, to get the money to accounts he actually wanted them in. PGM, GGS, AI,GT,BI and PGVIII were places the money may have been store,d but there were a host of others. It was like an intricate spiderweb, where everything led to the middle if you were careful... well if you crisscrossed dozens of spiderwebs, and off set their centers. Some one trying to track the money could spend years lost in the money trails. Especially the ones that suddenly ended. That was always easy, just make it seem like some one had cleared out a company and left with all the money in cold hard cash, and that was that. In the end, the amount of money that had been moved was staggering. It was beyond the scope for most people to understand or enjoy. Yet he had a purpose for it all. Yea, the droid was now a multimillionare, and he was was sure, some how the droid would find a way to spend it. He looked like the type of droid capable of such thoughts. He on the other hand was done with this mission. It was the last night on this forsaken world, and he took one last look around before letting his eyes rest on the droid. "Come on we are blasting out of here. Too much time of my life has been taken up by this forsaken rock." Boarding the ship, he soon departed.

Desmond smiled as he left the droid behind. There was a reason he normally decided to visit such places in person. Sometimes a remote access just didn't work. He had been trying to hit this building from the moment they had landed. His quiet musing and journey through the city, only interrupted at times by increasing frustration at being unable to crack this military grade weapons facility. He had started with his normal route for hitting corporations. DNS lookups, whois, portscan, etc. It turned out that there was about 15 or 16 machines reachable via the Holonet. 2 *nix DNS servers, 4 Exchange mail server, and a couple IIS machines. These machines are all firewalled and only allow very specific traffic : http, https, DNS, SMTP. But he remembered that if one of these services is vulnerable, it can be exploited and the firewall won't be effective at blocking the attack. So his first impulse was to issue a whisker scan on the webservers to see if there's any known vulnerabilities on the web server itself, and in the cgi programs as well. The machines turned out to be pretty secure, even if they are NT boxes much to his dismay. The server even appeared to be patched up to date, and non-necessary services have been removed from IIS (such as idq requests, asp pages, default sample pages). So he couldn't can't use the directory traversal vulnerability on this one. A quick attempt to try to screw up with some invalid requests in the cgi programs failed. Though his goal was trying to see if he could provoke any unexpected results that could give him a hint. Then he simply tried to log on the customer login page, trying to see if there's any test accounts left. Nothing went. So here he was doing the same old same old, breaking and entering to see what he could do. It hadn't been hard to get a floor plan of the place. It had been conveniently lifted from MandalMotors Hall which didn't have half the security of this blasted tower he was walking into. This job's set up would be easier than most. With no actually people in the building, he didn't have to do much. He simply walked in and plugged up his datapad to port. He automatically got an IP address from the internal network DHCP server. This was excellent news for him and terrible news for the company. It took him relatively no time to take control of an internal Holonet server to launch the netcat connection with full SYSTEM/NT_AUTHORITY privileges, as that s the way to roll in style. Then simultaneous he put scheduled jobs on his datapad to keep a point of entry, while going on an exploration tour of the rest of the network, stopping in a couple workstations to download some files, that were of interest at a brief glance and prepping them for the transfer to his database. He would come back later and go through the entire system, taking every top secret file he could. If only to get an edge up on the competition, or find weaknesses in existing craft. His databse, was notorious for running programs that analyzed technical equipment, broke it down on the schematics level and finding stress points and weakness. In his other life, it was very useful to have such knowledge. When one was always prepared, one could take down anything. He sighed, this was proving to be less of a challenge than he had hoped. Then again let's be serious, secured networks are the exception, not the norm. He hadn't even needed to find the director of the company's office, to get the privileges he now wielded. He killed all the other users on his privilege level, kept the account open to himself, and quickly began to make the money transfer. Since money would be missing, he had no problem failing to cover up the evidence of his intrusion. After all the big red flag of money missing, would be more than enough to show he had been there. The job was finished relatively quickly, and the money dispersed into more obscene accounts. The net take was ten million credits. Each one dispersed at different intervals in different accounts, through out the galaxy, as to not be suspicious, and all at once. Which would be the most suspicious part, as ten million was hard to distribute in small amount, and he would have had to have hundreds of accounts if not thousands to pull it off completely with out suspicion. The company would be able to recover, it would still be able to operate. Just the profit margin for the year was gone in the blink of an eye. That was all he cared about. He spent time after that ripping off company secrets before making the transfer off all of the stolen information to his databank. He would be setting up a program later that would consolidate all of the stolen money into one large lump sum under some false banner in a different account, for easier access. Having already claimed ownership of the armor company which was now being staffed and run, he had no interest in acquiring yet another company that was lacking in able bodied workers. So when he was finished, he disconnected and looked to the droid. Raising an eyebrow he remarked. Alright droid lets see if you have any heavy lifting skills. He showed the droid the datapad with the schematics of the tower. ”œWe need to go down two floors to make it to their safe. Do you think you can handle this job alone while I go get this ship. OR shall I follow behind you?”

The center of all Mandalorian political power, economic power, and military might. He paid attention to the droid but for the most part he spent the first day and a half picking targets. He was simply overwhelmed by the free ticket he had been given. If he had his way, he would add the entire sum knowledge of mandalorian life, culture, political power and military might into his database. He was surrounded by a wealth of knowledge and opportunity. However he was only there for one reason and that was to acquire funds for the war chest. His first target would be the Motors, after that he would hit the mandalorian bank he saw earlier in town. Maybe he would be able to drain the accounts of the mandalorians that were members, but more importantly that was cold hard credits he would be able to pack up and go with. Then if he had the time, he would copy the files in the capital building, and in the motors company, and transmit them to his database of useful information. One could never have too much info after all. Day two into the operation he was ready, he looked at the droid as he stood outside of company's doors. "Alright this mission is simple. We doubt there are automated defenses, but just in case there are, you cover my back long enough to transfer the money to accounts I have set up. We will be taking their most recent profit margin, and then check their safe. Then we are going to leave, for the record the lifting of the hard credits will be up to you while I go get the ship. You ready to do this?" He had no idea why he was asking the droid this. With out even waiting for an answer he slipped inside to head toward the offices.

He let loose a sigh s he put his hands on his hips. Looking around once more, he could feel that the droid was correct. That of course made this scene a bit rather creepy. He look at the droid out of the corner of his eye, ignoring its question for now. Instead he moved forward and began walking into the city. As he walked a small part of him wished, for the comforts he knew so well. Or at least a gas mask. However, the lack of bodies, made it clear that they population hadn't been wiped out where they stood, they had just simply left. With no one else around to observe him, save the droid. His scoping out of his initial target was actually quite simple. He even paused to remark to the droid. "This motors company. How much do you think it is worth?"

As quiet as a shadow a ship slipped out of hyperspace and reverted back to real space. The pilot, a dashing young man, dressed in the clothes of a civilian, gazed out at the landscape before him. Great, more jungles. Always jungles and rain forests. On some level he actually loathed jungles. Yet he pushed aside his dislike for such things as he entered mandalorian airspace. He destination was Keldabe He had no issue, circumventing the lack of official channels to go through. Soon he found himself on a prepaid docking pad and about to exit out into the big city. "Guess its showtime. Better go get the droid."

Mandalorian iron aside, the days after the departure of the droids were interesting. Using what capital the business still had to its name. It was rejuvenated. Droids were bought so workers wouldn't have to be paid for. Security was installed, and managers began coming in. Moving down from that, actual workers began making an appearance soon afterwards. The armor shop, received a generation donation from a track able source. Then when it was all said and done, the armor shop opened its doors, and the ability for any person, creatures, or droid to get custom built armor at the highest quality was given to the galaxy.

There was a certain irony in this. Being asked by a droid to over throw all sentient life in favor of droids. Just his history with droids alone, was enough to bring forth a bemused giggle of sorts. Still such a plan could not come to fruition, as it would be bad for business no doubt. The inherent problem was, if he blasted this droid, if what he said was true, then he would be at square one. Forced to try to monitor the activity of a bunch of assassin droids. He had far more better things to do with his time. He would have to think of some way to thwart this threat, with out letting the droid understand that was his over all goal. Especially given the whole idea of droids ruling the galaxy was a little to close to what had nearly happened a few months back. *Check the Corellia thread faithful reader for how the final battle with the dreaded Arach'tar went down* While it was a bit before the time he had hit the scene, he was aware enough to know, that was not a desirable outcome. Sith spit this is just lovely. Well if I could get a signal transmitter on him, maybe I could track the memory upload that would surely happen, to keep the remade model knowledge about the events that happen to this one. It was a long shot but it was all he could figure off the top of his head. ”œFine droid whatever. I'll help you if you help me. To get things clear I'll give the orders and you will accept them. On that note get those debris out the way of the door then!”

He was used to countering blaster shots a different way. Even knowing it was coming, muscle memory dictated his response, and sure enough he was lifted off his feet as the blaster bolt slammed into his chest. A couple of raspy coughs escaped him, as he felt back against a wall. That hurt... a lot. This is harder than I had imagined. His eyes watered, and he shook his head to clear it. Upon which he was met with a most befitting sight. One of the droids had approached him, and had simply surrendered the blaster to him. Granted it was the droid that had shot him but, still it was an improvement. Not one to be suckered easily, he simply stared at it. Knowing that it could be a ploy to try and lure him close. Why the droid would go through that much trouble was beyond him but, it wasn't outside of the range of possibilities. His head was ringing, so he almost missed the droid's apology. He did note with satisfaction that the rest of the droids were standing down. He mentally replayed the last thirty seconds in his head. Then he snatched the rifle from the droid. Inspecting it, he then pointed it at the droid. Anger would have no doubt filled a lesser man but, he had long ago established dominance over that issue. Instead practicality shone through. "What plans are you talking about assassin?"

A rather cocky smile appeared over his lips, as the familiar sound of a blaster carbine warming up became clear. "Just when I was beginning to think you guys were too rusty to make a move." It took only a moment. A single instance that seemed to stretch forever in the mind of Desmond. Then at last, for the droids everything went to Hell. It has started rather well. Entering the building had been relatively easy. The lack of of a light-source, allowing his seamless movements to be with out shadow. It didn't matter for him, as the workshop was as bright as day. Moving quickly, he had begun scouring the workshop for the one thing he really wanted. Yet it was increasingly had to find just what he wished. Switching viewmodes, he activated the electromagnetic radiation in the hopes of finding a power source to lead him to his destination. What he saw instead surprised him. The workshop was very much alive. It just wasn't filled with flesh and blood. Nearly two dozen droids stood around observing him. It was a bit shocking but with no overt moves made by the droid so far he knew he hadn't done anything to set them off. Still I might as well prepare in case I do trip the silent alarm or whatever will cause these droids to go off. Seems like ancient assassin models. I've seen them before, should be too hard to escape should they activate. He whipped out of of his special datapads and jacked into his visor. Instantly the world became a lot simpler in his eyes. He reached out, his sense stretched and he began his work. Pausing only briefly to find the one thing he though was worthy of note. What do you know, multiple floors, starting in the back of the shop. If I can get there, I could finish this mission and go home. Ha, home. He stalked his way through the workshop, noticing the area had fuel for jetpacks, as well as a few half created ones. The plan was quickly reworked, or was in the process of being so, when one of the droids at last made its move. As so close to, I could probably dash to the finish line no problem. A rather cocky smile appeared over his lips, as the familiar sound of a blaster carbine warming up became clear. "Just when I was beginning to think you guys were too rusty to make a move." Droids were his specialty. He could hide his physical presence by editing himself out of video feeds and cybernetic eyes, conceal his identity by superimposing an animated logo over his face, when he wanted a good laugh, and hijacking droids altogether, all in real-time. To him twenty two combat assassin droids, would be a decent challenge. Yet they were all so old algorithm and model wise it was like child's play. Having had all the time in the world to set up and cautiously probe the systems of the droids around him as he searched for his objective his plan was easy. The Rapid-fire method was what he had determined would be best for such a situation. To understand how his method works, you have to know something about the way operating systems work. When a user enters a command, the operating system first places the command in a holding area, a buffer, where it will sit for a few millionths of a second. The system looks at the command and say's "Does this person really have authorization to do this, or not?" Then, the command sits there a few thousandths of a second while the system runs off to check the user's authorization. When the system comes back to the command, it will have one of two possible answers: "OK, GO AHEAD," or "SORRY, GET PERMISSION FIRST." Once you are on a system that handles things this way, you can use the rapid-fire method to change the command while its sitting in the buffer,waiting to be executed. If you can do this,you can do anything. You can enter a command that you know will be approved, such as "tell me the time." As soon as the system runs off to verify your right to know the time,you change the command in the buffer to something you know would not be approved-perhaps"shut down optical receptors and enter power saving mode." When the system comes back with an "OK, go ahead," it responds to your second command, not the first. This is the summary of what he accomplish with the final event accumulating in the press of a button. Yet even for a man such as he, twenty two droids simultaneously was still a complex task. One that did not necessarily go as well as one could hope. His instincts spike,d and he surged forward, catching a blaster bolt from the carbine in his back. It bounded harmlessly away, his field suit more than adequately able to shrug off such a blow. Slipping his datapad back into its secure pocket, he removed the service special with the speed of a quick draw and targeted the first droid (#1) he saw. Squeezing the trigger, he watched as the blaster shot forth a bolt with enough power roughly equal to one of the four cannons in the Millennium Falcon's quad-guns. Two more shots were let loose in that single moment, yet neither at the first droid. Instead, the jetpack and fuel were the target. A sudden explosion, and a fury of jetpacks careened around the room, while most of the droids were engulfed in the firey explosion that instantly resulted. Others fell to the now out of control jetpacks crashing about. Yet in all of the confusion, Desmond escaped quickly, slipping into a position of cover next to what he had determined to be the door to the lower levels. With fields of fire, he cautiously checked with his visor the results. <> <>

He hadn't scoped out the building personally yet, but his ability to work a computer helped him in that regard. He wasn't sure of the full layout but he was positive he knew all he would need to know for now. Nothing survives contact with engagement anyway. It felt weird to operate in the manner he was. If anything he felt like he was dressed to be a super hero or something. Still decked out in his field mission gear, he surveyed the armor building from a rooftop away. Reports indicated that the building had been deserted for some time. That no recent orders had been placed, and that of all things mandalorians had been seen exiting form the place en mass. That had cost him a pretty penny and had been surprising to boot. He wasn't looking to go toe to toe with any armored behemoths wandering about. Especially since he was limiting himself so heavily. Though away from the watchful eyes of the Republic, he did allow his sense of awareness, to increase to the level he was more used to. This was a dark seedy world, where one had to watch his back. The mind games were something to be left behind for now. The man on the rooftop, disappeared only to reappear a short distance away from the building. Cloaked in the shadows having waited until nightfall to make his move, no activity had been seen seen, in the time he had spent observing the building so far. Now was the time to make his move. A man of his caliber and skill found it relatively easy to enter the building. Entering into a large garage he had scoped out to be in the back of the building, he was quite careful to move around any motion or monitoring devices. His visor was actually quite helpful in that regard, and before anyone knew it he was in. Well now, seems this operation is entirely self owned, operated, and maintained. That means, time to find mr. owner's personal office. Which if this building zone and permit, I have loaded up here was of any indication... He let go of a small smile, and like a shadow in the dark simply did not exist through careful movements, preplanned, as he stalked his way to his goal.

He had been on world for a little while now. Having departed from Republic space some time ago. Using an old landing pad, that he normally used when ever he visited this desolate world. It was strange touring it in his current get up but, it could not be avoided. Either way he had spent much of his time gathering information about his mark. Having mingled amongst the populous for some time, he now understood the ins and outs as they saw it. He had gotten a hold of some schematics for the building when it was first zoned. That had been....difficult to say the least but, he was if he was anything it was through. Now the only thing left was to tour the actually building itself. If it was a desolate as the reports he was getting it should be a cake walk.

His ship wasn't one to be tracked, and in the loneliness of space, he felt a lot less tense than he did in his new quarters. It made sense on many levels of course but, still discomfort at once's surroundings was not something he was used to. He switched on some Zabrak diaspora music on his trip through space. Began processing landing codes during a brief stop over to his destination. He was not bothered by his lack of company. If anything he welcomed it. He stretched out with all of his senses deep into space, searching for things to explore. At last writing code and doing an odd little dance to the Zabrak diaspora music he was forced to admit that dressing in civilian clothes, seemed to connect him more to his lesser feelings. Perhaps it is just the sudden unbridled freedom, and lack of pain. Who know. He was even smiling when he arrived at his destination.

((Can't edit the first post so here is the ship stuff)) Ship Registration [!ship] Name: Class: Starfighter Model: LightStealth-18 Reconnaissance Manufacturer: Kuat Drive Yards Length: 18.2 m Armaments: a forward mounted laser cannon for defense Armor: carbon-black Anti-Personnel Defenses: Code activated to get in. An A.I to fly the ship when he is engaged in other work. Appearance: A carbon-black, six-passenger craft with a needle-like body and, disproportionate, down sloping stabilizers Modifications: Instead of six passengers it can only hold half that many. The space for the other three passengers, has been converted, as this ship is his home away from home. This has his closet, food storage, entertainment, bed, credits he has on hand, and his gear.

DESMOND NIZAR'S CHARACTER SHEET Identity [!ident] Real Name:Desmond Nizar A.K.A:Vadder Homeworld: unknown/classified Species:Human Physical Description [!dscrp] Age: 25 Height: 6'3 Weight:190 Hair: jet black and curly in buzz cut Eyes: Fierce dark green eyes Sex:male Note: has three scares, one cutting diagonally across the eyebrow, one in the same direction across the base of his neck and on moving from his cheek toward his ear. It almost looked like he was raked by an animal, or was caught on the base side of a shrapnel blast. This all adorns the left side of his face. Equipment [!equip] Clothing or Armor:He has many outfits, the important thing to note out of all of them is they are made of spider silk. When he isn't on a field mission, he generally wears some color of cargo pants. All Terran boots, and a tight fitting silk t-shirt with a vest over top of it. Gloves complete the wardrobe. Those gloves being Infiltrator gloves. Field mission wear: A specialized wetsuit that fits tightly around his body (see bodysuit), making it almost impossible to hear it move. The fabric is interwoven with Spidersilk, allowing it to retain all of the properties therein. The cloth and equipment are black. He also wears black combat boots, a weapons belt, and a Nomex balaclava. His suit contains a thermoregulation system to maintain its temperature, photosensitive threads that detect snipers' lasers, and bladders of water to keep him from becoming dehydrated. Infiltrator gloves made of the same material as everything else. Lastly is the visor. When worn across the eyes and connected to a computer system, provided the wearer with a heads-up display that displayed relevant data laid over one's normal vision by translating complex computer algorithms into easy-to-understand symbols and words. When worn across the eyes and not connected to a computer system it can provide both thermal and night vision capabilities. Along with the ability to display a 360 degree range of vision. A third view mode highlighting electromagnetic radiation emitted from nearby power lines, generators, and electrical equipment. A forth and some what more useless mode is its fluorescent mode. Which just allows him to see dust and if anything has been moved. Weapon: His mind, and for tight situations a silence Oriolanis Striker projectile pistol as well as a service special pistol. melee weapon: double-edged combat knife. Overall length 7 1/2 inches with a 3 and 3/8 inch, black oxidized high carbon stainless steel blade to prevent reflections and a black polymer rubber handle. Common Inventory: His specialized Datapads, built by himself. One allows him to eke out a living in the digital world.The other is strictly for field missions. These Datapads are carefully guarded and constantly modified and upgraded by Desmond, who rarely discussed its specs except with like-minded individuals. Complex access codes and even self-destruct mechanisms are used to prevent a his Datapad from falling into the wrong hands. Both can link up to his visor, for a faster interference. Infiltrator gloves Field mission: Includes the datapads, gloves, fingerprint masque, Anti-security blades,slicer chip, spy cam and a back up electronic lock breaker with an algorithmic security bypassing system. Ammo for weapons, a de-ionizer for the wrists if need be, two ration bars and a bottle of water as well as a rebreather. Faction Information [!factn] Force Sensitive Alignment:no morality Current Faction Affiliation:Republic Current Faction Rank: History: [!hstry] Force Side:N/A Trained by:N'A Trained who:N/A Known Skills: He is a expert hacker by trade, and his all the training and skills of an elite commando. fluent in 8 languages. Those being Huttese fluent, basic fluent, mandalorian fluent, Jawa Trade language fluent enough, Dosh fluent, Shyriiwook semi-fluent, Ryl semi fluent, Sy Bisti partly fluent, Taarja partly fluent, Jawa Trade language fluent enough, Dosh fluent. He can sleep on command, and seems to have the peculiar talent of going unnoticed when he so desires. Neither machine, nor person can retain him on memory when he seems to make an active effort against it. Rumors have it that he had mastered the Jedi mind trick, due to his slipperiness. He can also able to hide his physical presence by editing himself out of video feeds and cybernetic eyes, concealing his identity by superimposing an animated logo over his face, and hijacking droids altogether, all in real-time. That is how good of a hacker he is. Background: on file: The son of a wealthy ship builder, he was able to get the best education his father could afford. As a little boy his need for knowledge was voracious. He loved to study all things in depth, especially the more apparently meaningless details, to discover hidden peculiarities, new features and weakness in them. This also bloomed in a need to physically do these things as well. So he would go off exploring places where the average person doesn't normally have access, such as basements, roofs of public buildings, maintenance tunnels, elevator wells and similar places. It quickly became apparent to the father that the boy found the ability to reason, harness his full brain capacity and maintain his mind at maximum efficiency levels, as the most important. So he enrolled the child in martial arts and survival classes. Which also helped put his mind at ease, as the thread of kidnapping or assassination was always present among the rich high class. This quickly fell in line with his love to study a system, to discover weaknesses, the peculiarities and hidden features of it, and then use them to go beyond its limits, with creativeness and imagination. He would often use these skills and his knowledge to try to access information to which he didn't have the right to access authoritatively. He always believed however, that he had the right to access whatever he wanted. Eventually his focus turned toward computers, finding their endless systems and possibilities fascinating. He would often spend many days and nights in front of a computer, programming or experimenting with new techniques. After spending so many hours in front of a computer, he gained a remarkable ability to analyze large amounts of data very quickly. He attended The Fondor Academy of Engineering and Design for two years before everything began to run afoul. Visiting his family, his father sent him as an envoy to the Sepan system. It was to secure a contract with the Dimok about an order of warships, during the sepan civil war. Desmond was betrayed by Ripoblus infiltrators and was never reported arriving on Sepan. A week later he was brought up for ransom of money and the negation of the deal with the Dimok. During his time in captivity, his father smuggled him a package which allowed for Desmond to break out of the ripoblus clutches. Angry at the Ripoblus' betrayal, he asked his father for the chance to fight the Ripoblus personally. His father relented and so Desmond spent 3 years mired in the Sepan civil war. Never a common solider, his father periodically sent gifts to aid his son his his personal war against the Ripoblus, each gift containing a part of his current wardrobe. After all a father will do anything to protect his son. There is no actual record of Desmond fighting in the war however. NO doubt due to the boy's skill with digital records. Desmond departed the world shortly after hearing of his father's ailing health. Upon arriving and with no access to the family fortune, he quickly used his skills to simply steal the money from else where. A doctor and a cure came almost immediately, and was nearly lost in a terrorist attack that claimed the lives of his mother and two sisters. Seeing the galaxy as a system that needed to be explored and also fixed, he left shortly after the funeral and his father's health returned.