Hacktivist

All that is online is your rightful Domain, and these nights that excludes damn little. You’ve been at this since 300 baud was the thing. Now the future you and your fellow data-liberation experts always knew would come is here, and while you do still engage in the occasional identity-theft gig to support your comfort level, you spend the bulk of your time harassing more worthy targets: companies obsessed with DRM, government censors and spooks, clueless and hypocritical MPs. You drive a Lamborghini. You thwart Castro’s propagandisthackers to give the critics of Chavez a chance. You see no contradictions in any of this. Apparently some Ivory Tower flunky thought you’d drop a dime if she Embraced you. Too bad for her that she said all those incriminating things about the Prince in her email. Seriously, vampires more than anybody need to evolve or die. With your browser-fu, it didn’t take you long at all to find the Movement’s encrypted message boards and chat rooms. Fortunately, they saw the wisdom of bringing you in instead of slapping a hunt on your ass. Hack into Camarilla networks? Um, twist my arm. Is there a cocky, uptight bunch of Illuminati fucks somewhere in the world more deserving of your attentions?