Little Red Riding Hoodlum

Sorbonne University, France. 2023.

A young lady with black hair with a red tip which sprawled around her restless sleeping-face laid on a pillow. The pillow's case, a faded dark blue, clashed with the vibrant green bedspread she's laying on- a mismatch that reflected her turbulent thoughts.

The soft glow of the afternoon sun peeking through the blackout curtains near her bed, casted a warm glow on her freckled face.

Suddenly, the tranquil silence... if it can be called that, was shattered by the shrill beep of her phone, lying inches from her pillow. The loud notification sound from her phone made her eyes flutter open and she gazed round the room wildly in alert before her slender fingers landed on her phone which is plugged directly to a socket near her bed, the charger's wire extending to her bed, making her open to explosive and fire hazard, not that she cares.

Inhaling deeply as if to calm her frantic nerves, she grasped the phone and double tapped the screen twice, then thrice, but it refused to come to life. She sat up right, grabbing and positioning her pillow behind her to support her back. She then forcefully pressed the power button, and the phone came to life.

The light emitted from the phone's screen cast an eerie glow on her freckled face, illuminating her ivory skin with an otherworldly light. She hurriedly swiped the phone's screen downwards and the light reduced. Her black curious eyes scanned it with parted lips and a furrow of her brows until it came to a stop and her brows furrowed more deeply.

"Update on scholarship revision programme?" She muttered, her eyes still scanning the screen of her phone.

"Dean of student affairs..."

She said to no one in particular since she's the only one in the room. Her voice was laced with a mix of annoyance and trepidation. She had been dreading this moment for weeks ever since the rumors of scholarship revision started circulating around campus.

She continued reading the mail she had received before she forcefully pressed the power button of her phone again and flung it to her side before standing up. The body of the mail was brief and to the point, stating that she had to meet with the dean before the end of the day.

She had received no details, no explanations, just a stern command in the form of a cold email. Her mind raced with different thoughts making her release a shaky breath before she stood up. She hurriedly moved to her locker and unlocked it.

Her locker can't really be called a locker since her limited cloth barely filled it. She grabbed a black baseball cap and turned back to her reading table which is near her bed.

Grabbing her tote bag which she had hanged on the back rest of her reading chair, she hurried to her bed, and lowered herself onto the bed with a sense of urgency. Her hand instinctively reached out, stretching towards the familiar shape of her shoe, hidden away beneath her bed for safekeeping.

She grabbed the worn black leather combat boots which looks like it had been through a war, its leather exterior cracked and worn with deep grooves etched into the surface like scars, the entire boot seemed to be held together by sheer willpower and a drop of luck, defying gravity and logic. It looked like a ticking time bomb that will disintegrate the moment someone dared slip their foot inside.

Nevertheless, the raven red head beauty slipped her slim feet inside the boot. After a while, she sat upright, as if contemplating a decision she had made, her eyes fixed on the door.

The room she's in is like a stark testament to contradictions, Its walls like two vastly different worlds. One side was adorned with a soft, gentle pink paint. It was as if the very essence of luxury had been instilled into that particular side.

In stark contrast, the opposite wall where the lady sat, wore a faded chapped yellow, like the peeling skin of a forgotten sun flower. The paint was cracked and worn, revealing glimpses of the dull gray beneath. The room is a poignant reminder that wealth and poverty often coexist in the most unexpected ways.

Another sigh escaped the raven red head beauty before she carried her tote bag and slung it over her shoulder. As she stepped out of her room, a desolate hallway welcomed her. It is nearing evening so most of her hostel mates are either taking a nap in their rooms or attending their last lecture for the day.

She finally stepped out of her dormitory building. The sun was setting over the campus, casting golden glows over the buildings. She quickened her pace as she moved towards a huge building that looks to have existed since medieval times, its tall spires reaching towards the sky like the tip of skeletal fingers.

She ascended the weathered stone stairs and pushed open the door, the creaking of the hinges echoing, alerting a woman sitting behind the desk who seems to be in her late thirties. The woman's eyes narrowed lightly as she took in the raven redhead beauty's disheveled appearance.

"Olivia, you are here for the meeting with the Dean, right?" The woman asked, her voice firm, but not unkind. Her eyes drifted downward, her gaze scanning the cluttered surface of her table with a hint of desperation.

Olivia nodded, quickly stretching out her hand as the woman handed her a clipboard.

"Fill this out please."

She took the clipboard, her hands shaking slightly as she moved towards a set of chair, sat, and began to fill out the form. The question were routine for Olivia -name, student ID number, programme of study- her face assumed a blank expression.

"Olivia."

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the receptionist called her name, making her spring to her feet, the clipboard clutched to her chest like a lifeline. She walked towards the receptionist and gave her the clipboard with a thank you.

The receptionist collected the clipboard, signalled to Olivia with her left hand to wait, then grabbed the telephone on her table. After some minutes of exchanging words with the person on the other line, she signalled her to climb up with her hands.

Clenching her teeth tightly, Olivia turned and moved towards the stairs leading to the top and started to climb. After some minute, she reached the dean's office. On the door, the name 'Rachel Thompson' was engraved. She knocked twice even though, the door was open. The dean was sitting behind a huge mahogany desk on a black leather high backed chair that looked too big for her petite frame, her eyes fixed on a black Dell laptop placed on her huge shiny table.

As Olivia walked in, the dean's head jerked up, her eyes locking unto the approaching Olivia. Her glasses perched on the end of her nose slipped slightly askew as she tilted her head. The frames, thin and silver, glint in the light, matching her slightly pale skin.

"Olivia, thank you for coming." She said, her voice warm as she pushed her laptop slightly to her right. "Please, have a seat." She added, pointing to another black chair opposite her.

Olivia had known Mrs Rachel since her first time at Sorbonne and since that time, she'd come to the conclusion that she treats her better than her own mother does.

She sat down with her heart in her throat, and when the dean began to speak, her words hit Olivia like a punch to the guts, leaving her breathless and reeling.

"We've had to revise the school's scholarship terms, especially yours. You will now need to pay 25% of your tuition fees yourself."

Olivia felt like she'd been hit by a truck. 25% of her tuition fees? She knew it was impossible! She couldn't afford it! She can barely afford two meals a day, so what made Sorbonne thinks she can pay 25% of fucking thousands of dollars?!

"What?! No way! That's impossible." She protested, her voice shaking with anger and fear. "I was promised a full scholarship."

Olivia had done everything, risked everything, just for the scholarship, for a better future for herself, but her goddamned university is about to put an end to her promise to herself, her promise of a better future, of an escape.

However, the dean's expression was unyielding. "I understand your concerns, Olivia. But the university is facing financial constraints, we've decided to make adjustments."

Olivia didn't understand if the university made adjustments to her scholarship terms because of a financial constraint or because of her being her. Had a school as prestigious as Sorbonne university fallen on hard financial times or had her own thoughtless words and her being her, somehow reached the wrong ears and led to this sudden reversal of fortune?

"I refuse to accept this." She stated coldly, her voice firm.

Graduating Sorbonne with flying colors is her only hope for a brighter future. Not when she's so close to grasping it.

Mrs Rachel's eyes narrowed slightly, her expression unyielding as she placed her hand on the desk and intertwined her fingers.

"I am afraid this decision is final, Olivia. You need to accept it and move forward. Now, get out of my office." She added dismissively.

Olivia let out a shaky breath as a wave of desperation washes over her. She knew she couldn't give up now, not when she's so close to reaching the light at the end of her dark tunnel.

Dejected, she stood up, bowed lightly and with a snort, walked out of Mrs Rachel Thompson's office, and slammed the door loudly.

Olivia lay on her faded dark blue pillow, her black hair with red tips spilling around her like a dark halo. Her onyx black eyes were wide open, staring fixedly at the ceiling as if lost in thought.

She didn't move, didn't blink, just laid there, frozen in contemplation. The silence around her was almost palpable and the only hint of life in her was the faint rise and fall of her chest despite the storm raging in her mind.

The dean, Mrs Rachel had told her about the scholarship revision program. As a scholarship recipient, Olivia enjoyed privileges that normal students without scholarships don't get, including a weekly allowance of fifty Euros. Even with that, the weekly allowance barely covered all her expenses. She'd been using the same smartphone since when she can remember, her clothes and boots are overworn. She couldn't help but wonder where Sorbonne expected her to see 25% of her tuition fees.

As she laid on her pillow, her black eyes, which had been fixed on the ceiling in a trance-like state, suddenly snapped into focus. Her gaze intensified and her eyebrows furrowed. Her eyes widened, and her pupils dilated as if her mind had been burst open by a floodgate of ideas.

Her red-tipped black hair seemed to quiver in excitement as her plump pale pink lips curled into a hint of a smile, her entire face lit up as she sprang up from her bed and hastened to her reading table in excitement, her feet barely touching the ground.

She drew back the reading chair and dropped onto the chair with a soft thud. Her table was empty except for a laptop and two heavy books which she'd borrowed from the university's library. Drawing the black laptop which never left her table due to how heavy it is closer to her, Olivia wiped it with her palm.

As a student majoring in computer science, this one Toshiba laptop had been Olivia's trophy since high school. When she discovered that she's interested in hacking, with a mixture of guilt and desperation had snuck into her mother's room where her mother laid motionless, the empty alcohol bottle beside her - a testament to the night's escapades. She'd opened the drawer with a soft creak, the act was a familiar one, a habit formed from years of necessity.

Olivia gently wiped the surface of the only laptop she'd ever had in her 22 years of life, her onyx eyes still glistening with excitement. She opened the laptop's lid, the hinges creaking softly as the screen sprang to life. It emitted a faint, slightly screeching sound as the old joints protested the movements. To Olivia, the noise was a familiar one, a soundtrack to countless years of the laptop's existence.

With a practiced motion, she extended her right foot beneath the table, her toes flexing as she felt for the socket plugged into the wall underneath the table. She aligned her foot with the socket, her big toe finding the small switch and with a gentle press, the socket clicked and the soft hum of the laptop coming to life filled the air.

All the while, Olivia's fingers and eyes remained focused on the keyboard, her eyes glinting with determination and excitement. She inputted her laptop's password and hacked into the school's system.

"Sorbonne made this mess, Sorbonne will clean it up." She muttered to herself, her fingers flying across the keys with lightning speed and accuracy.

Determination coursed through Olivia's veins. Since Sorbonne tried to snatch away her education, her scholarship, thereby trying to break the promise she made to herself. Olivia was hell-bent on hacking into the school's system to serve them a taste of their own bitter medicine - or so she thought.

Olivia's goal was simple - infiltrate the school's database and gain access to the coveted list of sponsors, including the prestigious alumni sponsors with her exceptional hacking skills.

After learning the basics of unethical hacking from one of her seniors in Sorbonne who'd graduated when Olivia just gained admission, Olivia had worked harder and gained more insight into hacking, making her proficient and confident in her skills. Her senior, Alessia, had taught her when she saw that Olivia is very passionate about hacking and computer science.

Olivia's fingers continued to move like rapid fire. She accessed the list of the wealthy alumni, her onyx eyes scrolling through the list before it landed on a particular one.

"Lorenzo Profaci..." She whispered.

"Ohh, Italian. Makes it better."

The Italian businessman, an alumni donor of Sorbonne, she had targeted was based in Italy, far from France, making it unlikely that their digital trails will cross, more to Olivia's relief. Luck was smiling down on Olivia as she gazed at the screen, her eyes widening with excitement.

"5 fucking billion dollars!" She whisper-shouted, her eyes widening like saucers as she finally accessed his account after breaking some barriers. The number was staggering and the fortune seemed almost unimaginable for a pauper like Olivia.

'He's so rich, he won't even notice it's gone.'

She thought with a sly smile, feeling like she'd pulled off the heist of the century.

Her fingers continuously moved at lightning speed across the keys, hacking her way into the Italian business man's account with great effort before another devilish thought crossed her mind, making her mutter with a shaky breath:

"Why settle for a mere fraction?"

Initially, Olivia had planned to siphon off a mere million before her greed got the better of her, her fingers flying across the keyboard as she transferred a whopping five million dollars into her own account.

When she's done with the transfer, she inputs a random screen name, 'little red', then wipes off all her traces and turns off her VPN, her chest rising and falling in a way that defies logic as the rush of excitement and adrenaline finally dies down. She placed her hand on the keyboard of the overheating laptop, breathing heavily.

With a sudden burst of urgency, Olivia sprang from the chair, leaving it screeching against the floor as she hastily abandoned her laptop. She darted across the room, her sock-clad feet barely making a sound.

Reaching her bed, she dove for her phone, snatching it from the charger, her hand shaking as she forcefully pressed the button and unlocked it. And right at that moment, her phone made a beeping notification sound- the money had entered.

A sly mischievous smile began to spread across her face, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards before she started bobbing her head up and down without music.

Olivia hurriedly transferred the money into five different accounts, moved back to her table and pushed her laptop's lid close. The laptop was overheating, but Olivia pushed it close without a care, she knows she will soon get another one anyways.

Moonwalking to her locker, she grabbed a jacket, slipped in comfortable home slides and stepped out of her room and into the streets of Paris.

Palermo, Italy. 2023.

In a dimly lit room filled with the hum of machinery and glow of screens. The walls were lined with shelves, stacked high with programming books. A massive curved monitor dominated the desk, displaying lines of code in a prism of colors.

In front of the monitor is a comfortable worn leather chair, adorned with a few scattered pillows and a fuzzy blanket. On it sat a young man with pale skin and a pair of glasses adorning his small feminine face. His brown eyes scrolling through the surface of the monitor. His hand is adorned with a sleek, high tech smart watch, its screen glowing with subtle notifications. His long fingers manicured to perfection hover over the keyboard with a sense of urgency and control.

Behind him stood a towering figure whose presence commands attention. His gaunt frame exudes strength like a razor's edge honed to perfection. His black hair was slicked back, revealing a chiseled face with sharp angles and a resolute jawline. Piercing blue eyes, like glaciers seem to bore into the hacker's screen.

The crisp white formal shirt he was wearing was not buttoned to the neck, revealing a toned hairy chest and if looks could destroy, the hacker's screen was supposed to have broken into pieces.

"Fuck!" The young man who was seated on the leather chair shouted in frustration, slamming his fist onto the desk, making the keyboard and monitor jump.

His eyes flashed with annoyance and his jaw clenches.

"It must have been a professional black-hat hacker." He added. His gaze rose from the screen and locked unto the figure behind him, his lips set in a firm line.

"Shut the fuck up Andrea." The gaunt man said coldly and with a sudden swift motion, raised his hand and striked Andrea, making his head jerk forward, his gaze snapped back to the screen with an 'ouch'.

Soon enough, the room was filled with the sound of fingers hitting keyboard again. It persisted for a few minutes before it reduced. Andrea huffed before he gazed up at the aloof man behind him who was staring at him with a rise of his elegant brows in a questioning way.

"Chillax, I'm trying to get past his firewalls." Andrea hurriedly said, and looked back at the monitor's screen which was filled with colourful codes.

He started hitting the keyboard again, then suddenly, he leaned closer to the screen, his eyes glinted in excitement which made the aloof man behind him lean closer too before Andrea let out a questioning frustrated sigh.

"Little red?! To hell with this!" He shouted frustratedly, slamming his fist into the table before he sprang from the leather chair he was sitting on.

"I was... I ...was so close to grabbing him. Like damn!" He shouted, throwing fists into the air. "See, Enzo, just call Alessia already!" He added while glaring at the aloof man, Enzo.

Andrea had been working for the Profaci Mafia since when he was young and as the best hacker the organization had, he found it embarrassing about not being able to get past a screen name. He kept pacing round the room and glaring at the monitor's screen at regular intervals.

Enzo snorted and brought out his phone.

"Come to the basement." He said to the person on the other side and was about to hang up when Andrea rushed to him, mouthed 'cold ass prick' and snatched his phone.

"Lexi dear, can you please come to the basement. We... I really need your help." He hurriedly said the last part and with a shaky hand, handed the phone back to Enzo who was glaring at him, his bravado washed away like sand writing.

Andrea paced the room with his hand dipped in his pocket for a while before he stood frozen, his eyes fixed on the door as it slowly creaked open. Alessia, who they'd been waiting for peeked through the door, her grey eyes swept the room before locking eyes with Andrea. She stepped further into the room, the suddenly, her nose wrinkled with mock distaste.

"Ugh, what's that amazing smell?" She asked. "It's like a war between coffee and tea in here." She added, glaring at Andrea before she turned to Enzo.

"Hi frosty." She said, grinning from ear to ear making Enzo's glare turn colder. Undettered, she turned back to Andrea.

"Seriously though, how do you survive in this caffeine fueled chaos?" She asked, gesturing to the entire room with a dramatic flush.

Andrea hurriedly walked closer to her with pleading eyes. He placed her hand on her shoulders, and shook her petite frame wildly.

"Lexiiiiiiii-"

"Get your fucking hands off me bitch." She shouted, pushing him away. "Don't ruin my hair." She added with a snarl and raised her hand to her crown, smoothing any strands of her perfectly gelled black hair back into place.

"Now, why'd you called me here. I told you I don't like your 'fragrant bouquet of productivity'." She said, mimicking the last part in Andrea's voice.

"Come with me." Andrea said, dragging her to the leather chair in front of the monitor and pressed her on the chair, making Enzo glare at him coldly.

Her gaze moved to the screen which was still flashing with a myriad of colors before she gave Andrea a questioning glare.

"Okay, okay, waittttt. I called you here because, you know, this whole stuff is kinda similar to your method. And basically, you know I don't really know how to by-"

"-shut up." Enzo said, interrupting the sputtering Andrea.

"Alessia, I need you to bypass the black-hat's screen name. Andrea couldn't..."

Andrea's eyes narrowed, his gaze flashing with a mixture of annoyance and indignation as he shot Enzo a glare.

"Excuse you?"

"... But I know you can. Get me me their location. Personal favor." Enzo continued, disregarding Andrea's glare.

Alessia turned to Andrea, her eyes flashing apologetically in a mocking way before she hurriedly drew the keyboard closer to herself. Her slender fingers began to move with rapid grace. It was like they were dancing.

The room was filled with the sound of fingers hitting keyboard once again. Enzo's cold gaze was fixed on the monitor's screen, as if aiming to bore holes into the screen, his left hand resting on the chair's backrest making him tilt slightly to the left.

Suddenly, he leaned closer to the screen which was flashing with a myriad of colors. Even Alessia's fingers halted as she stared at the screen with bated breath.

Although, Andrea is the best hacker in the Profaci Mafia, Alessia is the second best and her own hacking prowess is more geared towards black-hat hacking, something she'd mastered just for fun and out of curiosity.

The screen flashed, revealing 'little red' before going back to how it'd been before which made Andrea's eyes twitch.

He was a little relieved that Alessia didn't get it on her first trial. He gazed up at Enzo who was glaring at him. He smirked and gave him a 'you see' look.

Alessia dropped on the backrest, a sigh escaped her lips.

"Can you get me another keyboard please?"

Andrea hesitated before moving and passing her the keyboard. Alessia connected the keyboard to the monitor and placed it on a platform under the table on which the monitor was placed. She took off her knee-length shiny boots, baring her feet and hoovered it on the keyboard.

She then gazed at Enzo, signalling with her eyes for him to push the chair she was sitting on forward. All the while, Andrea looked, openly confused.

Then, Alessia started. Her slender fingers moved on the keyboard that was on the table with grace and her feet moved on the keyboard that was under the table with an odd clumsy grace.

She kept typing away and after a while, it brought the screen name 'little red' again. However, this time, Alessia didn't stop, she kept typing the codes. The room was filled with times two of the keyboard's sounds.

Seconds turned into minutes, minutes turned into an hour, and an hour turned into several hours but the room was still filled with the keypads sounds.

Andrea had long grown bored and flung himself on a fluffy three seater chair in the corner, snoring away.

Enzo had gotten himself a chair and was glaring at the monitor's screen.

Alessia was sweating. Her previous slender fingers were glistening with sweat, sometimes, slipping to the wrong key on the board. Her legs and feet also felt wobbly, but she knew she couldn't stop now, unless she wants to go back to the start.

Suddenly, her eyes flashed and she brought her forehead to her leather jacket, aiming to wipe away her sweat but it did little to nothing. A smile bloomed on her face like a flower as she suddenly shouted while glaring at Enzo.

"Get me fucking pen and freaking paper!"

However, instead of Enzo to stand up and get the pen and paper, he simply sat there. With a flourish, he dipped his hand to the back of his belt and brought out a black shiny gun that visibly glistened in the dim lightning. Then, with practiced precision, aimed it at a wall near the snoring Andrea.

The bullet hit the wall and the room shook from the loud boom. Andrea scurried to his feet fidgeting. His face was filled with sweat and he was panting. He hurriedly dipped his hand into his shoes and brought out two guns like he was unsheathing a sword while glancing at the room wildly in alert.

"Drop the gun and go get a pen and paper." Enzo said lowly in a threatening way.

"And that's why you ruined my pretty sleep? Bastard." Andrea muttered angrily then turned and left.

He came back with a paper and a pen held firmly between his hands and stood beside the typing Alessia.

Alessia still had that 'you-are-doomed' smile on her face before she turned to Andrea and gestured him to place it on the table.

"Now write." She said, her fingers still typing away on the keyboard as she leaned closer to the screen which was slowly revealing some letters. She read it out, Andrea writing it down and when she was done, dropped on the backrest of the chair with a satisfied smile as she brought up her shaky fingers to her face.

Enzo's chair screeched loudly as he stood up angrily, the paper crumpled in his hand.

"Fuck it! We are going to Paris!"