Becoming A Tech Tycoon Begins With Regression
Chapter 28: Spectra

Chapter 28: Spectra

As it turned out, Ethan and Google weren’t the only ones keeping busy.

Near Tech Square in Midtown Atlanta, Isabela’s bus had just reached its destination.

The commercial vehicle hissed to a stop along Peachtree Street, its brakes squealing loud enough to snap Isabela out of her thoughts.

She rose from her seat, adjusting the strap of her slim backpack as the automated voice announced:

"Tech Square. Next stop, Fifth Street."

The doors hissed open, allowing the passengers, which included Isabela, out.

Isabela stepped off the bus and into the mild buzz of Midtown’s morning flow, she was faced with workers in neat suits and students making their way towards different destinations.

Glass buildings loomed all around her, their shadows cast across the sidewalks. Unlike most of the other passengers, she wasn’t here for work.

Well, not exactly.

She tugged her black blouse down absently, already regretting the choice. It wasn’t uncomfortable, per se, but it didn’t match her vibe. She’d worn it to play the part of an intern heading to some office job. But now that the bus ride was over, the act was too.

With a quick glance over her shoulder, Isabela made her way down a narrow alley tucked between a Korean noodle bar and a boutique clothing shop.

At the end of the alley sat an unassuming door with a faded {AUTHORIZED ENTRY ONLY} sign. She knocked twice, paused, then knocked three more times.

A metallic click echoed, and the door creaked open.

Inside was a cramped, dusty maintenance room, likely part of the noodle bar’s basement access. She ducked inside, letting the door swing shut behind her.

A backpack with a different outfit was already waiting behind a stack of crates, right where she’d been informed it’d be the previous night.

In less than five minutes, the business look was gone.

Now she was in her usual oversized hoodie again, one that went down her knee, a short underneath, and fingerless gloves on her hands.

Her hair was now tucked under a beanie, and the contacts were swapped out for her old round glasses.

She stared at her reflection in the scratched metal panel on the wall and exhaled softly. "Much better."

A buzz came from her phone.

Turning on the screen, she noticed that it was just a message from one of the people she was supposed to be meeting right now.

Without bothering to reply, since she already got the directions of the new base last night, Isabela walked out of the maintenance room through the rear stairwell.

She emerged into the backside of a strip lined with various small businesses most were unremarkable, especially for an area such as this.

But there was one that stood out.

It was a two story gaming lounge tucked between a laundromat and a dimly lit vape shop.

The lounge had a neon sign, which was off since it was morning, with the pixelated lettering that read:

THE GRID

Isabela crossed the small sidewalk and stepped through the glass doors. She was instantly greeted by the cool air from the AC, along with the unmistakable smell of energy drinks and instant ramen.

"Yo!" the guy at the front desk barely looked up from his own screen. "First floor’s full. If you’re lookin’ for COD or CS, check the second—"

Isabela didn’t reply. She veered left, straight past the front desk and through a staff-only door.

Through it she made her way to the back, bypassing the main lounge and heading straight for a locked maintenance closet labeled:

{No Entry – Server Cooling Access Only.}

She scanned her phone over the digital lock and it clicked open. Inside, a narrow elevator shaft waited. There were no buttons, just a biometric pad.

She pulled off one glove and pressed her entire hand against the scanner.

A small screen lit up before it blinked green and a mechanical voice came through.

"Access Granted. Welcome to the new base, Spectra."

The elevator then rumbled to life and started descending.

As the elevator made its way down Isabela, with her arms folded, had more than enough time to reenter her thoughts again.

Leaning against the elevator wall, she tilted her head up, staring at the dim elevator ceiling light before she let out a heavy sigh.

Isabela really hated lying, but in this situation, there was nothing else she could do.

It wasn’t like she could just walk up to Ethan and say, "hey, so I’m not really here for internship but to meet up with a secret hacker collective who operate under the delusion that they’re cyber-heroes."

"Also, I might try to break into multiple secured cyber fortresses while under your roof just for the thrill of it. Cool?"

Yeah, no.

She’d be out in the streets before she could even blink.

Isabela let her head thunk gently against the cold metal behind her, eyes slipping shut for a moment.

She hadn’t wanted to deceive María either. The woman had been so warm and so genuinely kind when she offered her a place to stay.

And Ethan, well, despite his suspicion this morning, he hadn’t pried. Which only made the guilt worse.

This morning, she had gone out with a fake internship excuse, dressed like someone she wasn’t, rode the bus with real workers, all while heading here, to this hacker cell that called themselves The Vigilants.

She snorted softly under her breath. "Heroes," was what they called themselves. Fighting for digital freedom, data liberation, taking down corrupt corps and surveillance states... like anyone was that righteous.

In truth, most of them just wanted to break into places they weren’t supposed to, gain material for blackmail and exploitation. The whole ’righteous rebellion’ narrative was complete bullshit.

But even though she knew this, she stayed for a single reason.

The challenge.

The truth was, hacking wasn’t just something she was good at, it was the only thing that made her feel alive. It was the closest thing she had to freedom and the more challenging a hack the freer she felt.

And these hypocrites were the only ones insane enough to try and get into fortresses that seem impossible to. Which is exactly why she stayed.

The elevator came to a stop, and with a ding, the doors opened revealing their new base.

It was bigger than their last setup—twice the size, maybe more. Rows of workstations filled with rigs, cables snaking across the floor, and multiple server racks lined together in one corner.

A massive screen dominated the back wall, split into multiple feeds: city surveillance cams, darknet forums, live traffic data, and digital maps of some corporate infrastructures, most of which are their targets.

At the center of it all, seated like a king behind a half-circle of monitors, was their so-called leader.

Tag.

He wore a ridiculous trench coat indoors and fingerless gloves, a look he believed was was intimidating, but it just made him look like an idiot.

"Spectra," he greeted without looking up, his fingers dancing across a backlit keyboard. "Right on time. We’ve got something spicy today."

Isabela dropped her bag beside a chair and sank into it, already pulling her laptop out.

"Better be," she muttered. "I didn’t wear pants for this."