Every morning, Leo would crawl out of bed, check his terminal, and watch the list populate.
He was sipping cold coffee when the terminal flickered. The usual green text bled into crimson. A new entry appeared at the very top of the Leechlist, above even the Whales. It had no username. No VEpH score. Just a single line of text:
[NEW] Source: Leo's Identity – by The Original. Status: Public Domain. leechlisting
He clicked on his own name. A new window opened, showing a reverse log of his entire digital existence. Every file he had ever stolen. Every server he had ever pinged. Every angry email from an artist that he had deleted without reading.
And at the very bottom, a new rank appeared. Below Barnacle. Below Remora. Below everything. Every morning, Leo would crawl out of bed,
Samuel Voss stepped through the doorway. His hammer was dripping with molten code. Behind him, Juni K.'s fingers moved through the air, rewriting reality one line at a time. And the Midnight Sons played a chord that made Leo's fillings vibrate in agony.
She pointed at his terminal. The Leechlist refreshed. A new entry appeared at the very top
"Please," Leo stammered. "I'll stop. I'll seed. I'll—"