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Description
The first time they met was a completely different story.

Bade had been in the middle of a mission, caked with sweat, blood, and a half dozen other substances not worth describing, and he was angry.  Recklessly he skidded around a corner and slid to the floor behind several crates, enough of a hiding place for now.

He wiped his bloody glove on a dry patch of his pants, and it came away only remotely cleaner than before.  It would have to do.  He then reached into his trenchcoat pocket for the small portable computer he always carried with him.

Snapping it open, he quickly loaded badesdarkcastle.org, the fansite dedicated to him where he unashamedly stored information he routinely needed in the field.  He knew that the demons he was currently battling were a breed of Grenold demon, but he couldn't recall which it was—one subspecies was only invulnerable to fire, another was vulnerable only to fire, that sort of thing.

He typed “grenold” into the search bar and hit enter, and then a small black window popped up, the cursor flashing silently in the top left corner.  Bade blinked.  That was not at all usual.

Then the box filled with code, scrolling rapidly when it hit the bottom of the frame.  Other windows started showing in the background, opening files and scrambling the data.  Bade actually, vocally growled.  If there was anything he needed right now, it damn sure wasn't a hack.

With a few keystrokes he had his own window opened, and started entering code himself.  He'd find this guy and teach him not to mess with Bade, Scourge of the Unholy. Fingering a magical ring in his pocket, accessing its power, he grinned fiercely and hit enter.

Abruptly the hacking window closed, followed swiftly by the rest of the open windows.  Then, with a triumphant whir, the computer turned off.

Shit. He still needed that. Slamming the laptop closed, he put his feet under him and rose. The whistling cry of the Grenold shrilled from around the corner as he exchanged the computer for one of his shining scimitars. He'd just have to hope these things could be killed with good old fashioned violence.

In a seventh story hotel room somewhere across the world, the Code Master scrambled away from his computer, the casing of which was inexplicably emitting more live slugs than could be reasonably imagined.

Several weeks, two hotels, and a new computer later, the Code Master hit enter and the program was complete.  With a couple more deft keystrokes, he exited the writing software and booted the new application.

The splash screen popped up in the middle of his display, proudly announcing the title "The Code Master's House of Pool," complete with a little jingle.  It vanished and in its place the digital pool hall loaded, just as he had imagined it.  He clicked on "new game," and an overhead shot of a pristine pool table appeared.

"Invite player" was the option that drifted over the table, just waiting to be clicked.  The Code Master smiled.

Bade had just emerged from the shower when he heard a soft ping sound from the tiny computer on the bedside table.  Interested (though somewhat wary still from the hack a while ago), he crossed to it and examined the screen.  A text balloon had appeared on the bottom right of the screen, apparently inviting him to a game of pool.

The host of the game was evidently “The Code Master.”

Bade smiled and shut the computer, padding away to find his clothes.  The punk could wait; he had real work to do.

After twenty minutes or so with no response, the Code Master resigned himself to the reality that Bade was ignoring him.  Somewhat disappointed, he cancelled the invitation, then stared at the lonely digital pool table.  He’d try again, just later.  In the meantime, he’d take his program for a spin.  A little practice wouldn’t be amiss, so that he’d be ready for it if and when Bade finally accepted.

After the fourth or fifth invitation, spread out over half as many weeks, Bade decided to look into this mysterious person who so adamantly demanded his free time.  A preliminary search yielded nothing more than a handful of learn-to-program sites.  But a quick and dirty hack into the Superhero’s Index found an entry on the “Code Master,” which meant that whoever it was was noted in the super community for his skills, most likely in technological assault.  Surprisingly enough, however, the entry was filed under “Hero” rather than “Villian,” which meant this hacker was white hat twice over.

This did not explain his hack into Bade’s computer, as the demon slayer had his own entry here under “Hero.”  He searched further, but there was no more information other than the code name and a distinguished reputation as the best/quickest/least-catchable hacker ever to set foot on the virtual plane.

The next time the request pinged for his attention, he accepted.

The Code Master blinked in surprise as “Player BADE has accepted your invitation” flashed on his screen, and the other pool cue graphic began to move around the table.  There were no avatars, just the table and a chat box at the bottom of the window.

Above his blinking cursor, the box suddenly showed “BADE:  Hail, Codes.”  Then, “BADE:  I’ll break.”

Almost immediately, with the speed expected from a guy whose livelihood depended on a fantastically high wpm:  “THE CODE MASTER:  So how’d you do that slug thing?”

Bade smiled.  How very down-to-business.  “Magic,” he returned quickly, taking his turn as if that was enough of an answer.  Unfamiliar with the controls, he started the game with a break he would have been ashamed of had he been playing in an actual billiards hall.

This did not amuse the Code Master.  “No, I mean, all of it.”

“Alright, look at it this way,” Bade responded.  “Every magic has a user interface, right?”

There was a pause as the Code Master lined up a shot and sank two solids.  “Sure,” he typed.

Bade continued as the Code Master lined up another shot.  “It has to be designed, built, and then taught.  A magic ring has a specific purpose, a certain task it is able to perform, but just because you have it doesn’t mean you’re able to use it.  Even spells require a specific mindset by the user, or else a fool reading from a spellbook in the used book store would ruin the world.”

The Code Master knocked some balls out of the way but sank none, and Bade stopped typing to take his turn.

“I get it.  The device—spell, ring, etc.—is the application, and the mind is the computer, right?  The ring only runs with Windows and if your mind has Linux installed then you’re screwed.” The Code Master asked speedily, watching as Bade considered his options.  “Relevant how?” he tapped out after another moment of waiting.

Bade’s shot was well blocked by the solids, so he bounced off the wall and hit a striped ball to nowhere in particular.  “Yeah, that metaphor is pretty solid.  I bring it up to show that magic and technology are not so dissimilar, but you seem to understand that already.”

The Code Master sank another ball but paused in between shots long enough to say “I understand a lot of things already.”

Unseen in the solitude of his room, Bade smirked.  “You don’t understand how I traced your position using your IP address and then summoned slugs to that physical location using a handy magic ring I possess.”

The Code Master missed the next shot but didn’t say anything.  Bade sank three stripes in a row and then scratched.

The hand icon hovered over the table, then placed the cue ball in position for a rather difficult looking shot.  “Nobody can find me,” the Code Master typed at last, returning to the game to pocket not only the ball he was gunning for, but also another on a lucky rebound.

“I can,” was Bade’s rather eerie reply.

The Code Master, though unnerved, easily sank the remaining balls.  “8 ball, side pocket,” he announced before winning.

“Rematch?” Bade suggested amicably.

“Definitely,” the Code Master shot back.

Description
The first time they met was a completely different story.

Bade had been in the middle of a mission, caked with sweat, blood, and a half dozen other substances not worth describing, and he was angry.  Recklessly he skidded around a corner and slid to the floor behind several crates, enough of a hiding place for now.

He wiped his bloody glove on a dry patch of his pants, and it came away only remotely cleaner than before.  It would have to do.  He then reached into his trenchcoat pocket for the small portable computer he always carried with him.

Snapping it open, he quickly loaded badesdarkcastle.org, the fansite dedicated to him where he unashamedly stored information he routinely needed in the field.  He knew that the demons he was currently battling were a breed of Grenold demon, but he couldn't recall which it was—one subspecies was only invulnerable to fire, another was vulnerable only to fire, that sort of thing.

He typed “grenold” into the search bar and hit enter, and then a small black window popped up, the cursor flashing silently in the top left corner.  Bade blinked.  That was not at all usual.

Then the box filled with code, scrolling rapidly when it hit the bottom of the frame.  Other windows started showing in the background, opening files and scrambling the data.  Bade actually, vocally growled.  If there was anything he needed right now, it damn sure wasn't a hack.

With a few keystrokes he had his own window opened, and started entering code himself.  He'd find this guy and teach him not to mess with Bade, Scourge of the Unholy. Fingering a magical ring in his pocket, accessing its power, he grinned fiercely and hit enter.

Abruptly the hacking window closed, followed swiftly by the rest of the open windows.  Then, with a triumphant whir, the computer turned off.

Shit. He still needed that. Slamming the laptop closed, he put his feet under him and rose. The whistling cry of the Grenold shrilled from around the corner as he exchanged the computer for one of his shining scimitars. He'd just have to hope these things could be killed with good old fashioned violence.

In a seventh story hotel room somewhere across the world, the Code Master scrambled away from his computer, the casing of which was inexplicably emitting more live slugs than could be reasonably imagined.

Several weeks, two hotels, and a new computer later, the Code Master hit enter and the program was complete.  With a couple more deft keystrokes, he exited the writing software and booted the new application.

The splash screen popped up in the middle of his display, proudly announcing the title "The Code Master's House of Pool," complete with a little jingle.  It vanished and in its place the digital pool hall loaded, just as he had imagined it.  He clicked on "new game," and an overhead shot of a pristine pool table appeared.

"Invite player" was the option that drifted over the table, just waiting to be clicked.  The Code Master smiled.

Bade had just emerged from the shower when he heard a soft ping sound from the tiny computer on the bedside table.  Interested (though somewhat wary still from the hack a while ago), he crossed to it and examined the screen.  A text balloon had appeared on the bottom right of the screen, apparently inviting him to a game of pool.

The host of the game was evidently “The Code Master.”

Bade smiled and shut the computer, padding away to find his clothes.  The punk could wait; he had real work to do.

After twenty minutes or so with no response, the Code Master resigned himself to the reality that Bade was ignoring him.  Somewhat disappointed, he cancelled the invitation, then stared at the lonely digital pool table.  He’d try again, just later.  In the meantime, he’d take his program for a spin.  A little practice wouldn’t be amiss, so that he’d be ready for it if and when Bade finally accepted.

After the fourth or fifth invitation, spread out over half as many weeks, Bade decided to look into this mysterious person who so adamantly demanded his free time.  A preliminary search yielded nothing more than a handful of learn-to-program sites.  But a quick and dirty hack into the Superhero’s Index found an entry on the “Code Master,” which meant that whoever it was was noted in the super community for his skills, most likely in technological assault.  Surprisingly enough, however, the entry was filed under “Hero” rather than “Villian,” which meant this hacker was white hat twice over.

This did not explain his hack into Bade’s computer, as the demon slayer had his own entry here under “Hero.”  He searched further, but there was no more information other than the code name and a distinguished reputation as the best/quickest/least-catchable hacker ever to set foot on the virtual plane.

The next time the request pinged for his attention, he accepted.

The Code Master blinked in surprise as “Player BADE has accepted your invitation” flashed on his screen, and the other pool cue graphic began to move around the table.  There were no avatars, just the table and a chat box at the bottom of the window.

Above his blinking cursor, the box suddenly showed “BADE:  Hail, Codes.”  Then, “BADE:  I’ll break.”

Almost immediately, with the speed expected from a guy whose livelihood depended on a fantastically high wpm:  “THE CODE MASTER:  So how’d you do that slug thing?”

Bade smiled.  How very down-to-business.  “Magic,” he returned quickly, taking his turn as if that was enough of an answer.  Unfamiliar with the controls, he started the game with a break he would have been ashamed of had he been playing in an actual billiards hall.

This did not amuse the Code Master.  “No, I mean, all of it.”

“Alright, look at it this way,” Bade responded.  “Every magic has a user interface, right?”

There was a pause as the Code Master lined up a shot and sank two solids.  “Sure,” he typed.

Bade continued as the Code Master lined up another shot.  “It has to be designed, built, and then taught.  A magic ring has a specific purpose, a certain task it is able to perform, but just because you have it doesn’t mean you’re able to use it.  Even spells require a specific mindset by the user, or else a fool reading from a spellbook in the used book store would ruin the world.”

The Code Master knocked some balls out of the way but sank none, and Bade stopped typing to take his turn.

“I get it.  The device—spell, ring, etc.—is the application, and the mind is the computer, right?  The ring only runs with Windows and if your mind has Linux installed then you’re screwed.” The Code Master asked speedily, watching as Bade considered his options.  “Relevant how?” he tapped out after another moment of waiting.

Bade’s shot was well blocked by the solids, so he bounced off the wall and hit a striped ball to nowhere in particular.  “Yeah, that metaphor is pretty solid.  I bring it up to show that magic and technology are not so dissimilar, but you seem to understand that already.”

The Code Master sank another ball but paused in between shots long enough to say “I understand a lot of things already.”

Unseen in the solitude of his room, Bade smirked.  “You don’t understand how I traced your position using your IP address and then summoned slugs to that physical location using a handy magic ring I possess.”

The Code Master missed the next shot but didn’t say anything.  Bade sank three stripes in a row and then scratched.

The hand icon hovered over the table, then placed the cue ball in position for a rather difficult looking shot.  “Nobody can find me,” the Code Master typed at last, returning to the game to pocket not only the ball he was gunning for, but also another on a lucky rebound.

“I can,” was Bade’s rather eerie reply.

The Code Master, though unnerved, easily sank the remaining balls.  “8 ball, side pocket,” he announced before winning.

“Rematch?” Bade suggested amicably.

“Definitely,” the Code Master shot back.