While the coder was working on the bot, I decided to squeeze the maximum out of the PayPal thing. You need resources for a regular botnet and they cost money. The better the resources, the more money they cost.
A kilo (author’s note: a kilo aka 1k means 1000, correspondingly three kilos or 3k means 3000, etc.) of almost ideal loads for that time, if I am not mistaken, cost almost a hundred evergreen. You could also make your own loads, but that demanded more expenses. In that case you needed to buy a trojan, to install an exploit, to buy fresh ftps and direct traffic to the trojan. If you look at it from a perspective of using ddos for a long time, then your own loads make more sense financially, but I did not yet know how much I needed them. It was just a new thing. So, I decided to work the stick some more before starting to make money on attacks.
That first summer month I was able for the first time to make a record amount from the stick – eighteen grand green. Though I was really hoping to make back the money that I spent buying a car for that girl. Eh, it wasn’t bad anyway. So, for that moment I had about thirty grand in total. That was enough for a ddos, so for the whole second month, besides studying and testing the botnet, I was earning money for an august vacation. It sounds funny. A vacation. Even though I wasn’t really exerting myself, but a habit to spend one summer month on vacation was sitting somewhere deep inside of me and just did not want to die.
While learning the structure of ddos attacks and working with the Stick parallel to that, I made fifteen grand in only two weeks in July. But my butt was getting scared. When you are working small amounts, usually you don’t feel much fear, but when the sums get more serious, the bottom part of the human body starts to shake a bit. On the other hand, a vacation sounded nice.
By the way, the first site that I decided to attack with my botnet was a resource on narod.ru. I was so stupid then. I did not understand that just because you are working a free hosting service, it does not mean easy money. Only on the second day of the attack I understood that I am hitting Yandex servers, which you definitely can’t call easy prey. It was obviously not enough to use a couple of kilos of bots online. So, I ceased testing.
I gradually started to meet loads sellers. I needed to find a couple of reliable contacts, which was a rather difficult task. Many could pour in maximum one or two kilos of loads per day. Others would just abandon you. That’s why the search did not go as quickly as I wanted it to. As a result, towards the end of July, I found three reliable sellers, one of whom was selling RU loads, which were necessary to attack Runet resources.
July also went by unnoticeably. The stick’s revenue this month was twenty-five kilo green – not bad. My instincts told me that it’s time to know your limit, so I went on vacation with a feeling of duty performed. Oh, I also ordered one hundred and fifty thousand loads for Europe and CIS from my sellers.
My vacation
Kirillovka. I love you. Remember, I have told you lots about a Ukrainian resort on the shores of the Azov Sea that not one resort in the world can compare to? Of course, maybe I’m wrong, I’ve never been to Hawaii or Ibiza, but Turkey, Crimea or Egypt can’t even dream of comparing.
First of all, it’s basically a savage vacation. Five-star hotels with pools and all-inclusive bars greet you on popular resorts. Here you should be glad you have a toilet and a shower in your room. Here that’s VIP. And this VIP costs twenty bucks per day. But it doesn’t really matter because you don’t spend much time in your room — it’s the people that matter. They are much cooler there than in Crimea, for example. Dude! There are no show-offs. The biggest professional you will find is a middle-range manager, but most vacationers are young people, constantly hanging out and partying. They are the ones who provide life with a rhythm. If I could, I would open a soviet Ibiza there. And trust me, all of Europe will go there. I would spend half a grand green a night, buying drinks for entire clubs and sponsoring parties. I would talk to all the club owners – it was worth it. You know, it’s stupid to describe my vacationing and partying, let the ones who want to know go there and see for themselves. I only have one advice for them. In Kirillovka you have to vacation on Fedotova Kosa. The budget entirely depends on you. You can have an amazing vacation for seven hundred bucks or for seven to ten grand green. Go ahead.
When I came back to Piter, I felt at home. After a few months of living in this city, I came to love it like my own brother. Even now, sitting in the middle of Russia, surrounded by taiga forests and groves, I really want to go home, to St. Petersburg.
Guys, the loads sellers didn’t let me down! The botnet was showing one hundred and sixty thousand bots, fifty thousand of which were online. The coder also didn’t let me down, the bot really was great. Now I could put down even Yandex servers if I wanted to, without much exertion. But I decided to test it on a different resource – mail.ru. And, you know, it worked. In the first ten days of September 2006, mail.ru went down for about 30 minutes (I publically bring my apologies to the administration of mail.ru for caused inconvenience, I hope you upgraded your defenses since that time :)). The test was successful.
The next few months I continued to work with the stick, once in a while selling my ddos services to the Western commercial structures. They always had enough competitors and they didn’t spare any money for this. And it would have went on like this, but then Dima got beat up.
Remember I told you about Dima? We studied together in the Suvorov Military School. Great guy. A loyal person, you could always count on him. And if I turned away from the road to become a Russian officer, he walked it to the end. For that moment, he was already a lieutenant of the Communications Forces. Dima was attending courses at the Saint Petersburg Communications University to raise his qualifications then and met a charming girl. You’ve seen her too, by the way, I think I introduced you two. My jaw dropped every time I saw this lady. There was only one thing I would make fun of Dima about – her nationality, the girl was Armenian. No, I did not see anything wrong with that, it’s probably even great when cultures mix. Especially, considering the fact that Armenian girls are always loyal wives and great cooks. I even encouraged him in his choice. That Eastern beauty… They had a great relationship. Dima even wanted to leave the army and I would have taken him in as an assistant.
But.
One evening they were coming home from Mariinka. It is a great Piter theater, perhaps one of the best. This couple was walking around Saint Petersburg, lovingly looking into each other’s eyes and talking about life. They reached a store. Dima went inside to buy cigarettes, the girl remained outside. That moment, a crowd of skinheads was walking down the street and breaking glass advertisements. You know, I probably even respected them before. They would stand for their point of view with their ideology and force. The only thing I did not like is their respect for Hitler. I hated how they would throw up their hand in a Nazi greeting.
So it was this crowd that walked by that girl and stopped.
— Brothers, she is a churka, — one of them turned around.
Everyone turned around.
— You’re right, she is, — others caught up
— Bitch, you’re fucked! — one of them said.
Dima came out of the store. He heard the last sentence.
— Guys, what do you want? — he asked
— Are you Russian?
— I think so. At least it says that in my passport, — answered Dima
— Then get the hell out of here, we have problems with the churka — they said.
— She is not a churka, she is my girl. You guys are being dumb.
At that time one of the skinheads walked up behind Dima and hit him over the head with a bottle.
He lost his consciousness and eight people started to kick him. Fuckers. Sons of bitches. They kicked him without mercy. The only thing that he was able to tell his girl was:
— Run.
The next day I found him in the ICU.
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