haxx0r gunman sighed and looked out the window of his dingy populo-chamber over the skyline of New Boston. The skies of old Boston were very gray, but the skies of New Boston are gray and empty . . .
His thoughts were interrupted by the familiar buzzing of his meterometer. "haxx0r gunman," the familiar metallic voice sounded. "It is time to wake up. And have a nice cyber-day!" The meterometer blinked off.
I hate this new friend-chip . . . standard issue, but not standardly desired.
He grunted as he rose from his hyperbed and strapped on his 2x haxx0rgun. Today would be a good day indeed, but a solemn day as well. For it was the 50th anniversary of the day that started World War 3.
* * *
It was an ordinary September day, haxx0r gunman was just a young man then. He was working as a photographer for the popular New York newspaper The New York Planet, taking pictures of the World Trade Towers. He was just doing his job. He didn't ask to be called into the line of duty. But a haxx0r gunman doesn't ask for much of what he gets.
He heard the screams before he ever saw anything.
"ALARI! ALARI QAHAD JIMONHJA!" He recognized the language as Afghanese. Death! Death to you, hated American scum! Turning and looking skyward, haxx0r gunman saw the plane, a commercial airliner, hurtling through the sky. Hanging from the cockpit was Amari Amaran, a well known Afghanese terrorist, AK-47 in hand. He screamed several Afghanese curses and then began firing rounds at the hapless pedestrians below. Even back then, the haxx0rgun, only 1x at that time, was ready.
"ALARI! ALARI MANAHAN! MANAHAN JIMONHJA!" Look at the little man below me! He has his gun and thinks that he is brave, but he is not brave! He is weak, like the dog!
But before Amari could put this dog down, he was blasted straight to Allah by a voracious haxx0rbolt.
haxx0r gunman didn't stick around to see what happened to the plane. On a whim, he left his shadow, just the shadow of a young man then, behind with strict orders on what to do if any more planes came by. Then, haxx0rgun and camera strapped to his back, he returned to the streets . . .
* * *
Had they ever known the truth, some would have called haxx0r gunman a monster. But the truth was most elusive of all when he was young, so no one ever dead. Instead they ended up blaming videogame megacorporation Eidos for its popular "Fuck America in the Ass" series of games, and a massive nuclear holocaust ensued.
haxx0r gunman, however, knew himself to be a hero and a saviour of humanity. Or at least a defeater of terror. Of that, no one could deny him. No one except . . .
The familiar face of the President once again flickered onto the screen of his meterometer. "Well, haxx0r gunman, I see you're up bright and early. I guess that's not to much of a surprise since today is-"
"What do you want?" haxx0r gunman's words cut into the President's like a meat cleaver, severing chunks of fine beef.
The image of an Afghanese woman replaced the President's. "This, Mr. gunman, is Andi Bin Laden, master of the Afghanese New Terrorist Army. We have need of her . . . elimination."
haxx0r gunman stared at the image before him for several long seconds. "It is done."
"Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. gunman. Oh, and one more thing . . . she's a techno-vamp."
haxx0r gunman was unphased. He had dealt with techno-vamps before.
* * *
In the aftermath of the attack on and subsequent destruction of the World Trade Towers, haxx0r gunman returned to the scene on duty as a photographer. Using an ancient trick of the Shaolin, he slipped past the police lines, which he soon found were there for good reason.
Entering the wreckage, he heard the sound of a woman crying. Eager to help, he rushed further inside the collapsed tower, and soon came across a young woman hunched over weeping. But as he got nearer still, the woman stood, and revealed her cold metal face and glowing red eyes. Then, with a vicious hiss, she showed her wicked metasteel fangs. It didn't take a haxx0r gunman to know that an encounter with those would surely be fatal. With faster than human speed, the techno-vamp launched herself at haxx0r gunman, but before she could make contact a haxx0rbolt sent her flying back into the wall and into whatever hell techno-vamps burned in. haxx0rgunman crept silently back out the way he came in.
* * *
Bin Laden was waiting for haxx0r gunman in her desert palace. After leaping over numerous pits with spikes in them and dodging many swinging balls with spikes on them, he arrived at her final chamber. He set his cyber-eyes to nightvision. If there was one thing techno-vamps hated more than haxx0r gunmen, it was light. Stepping inside he saw it would have indeed been pitch black to the naked eye. But to his cyber-eyes, it was almost beautiful. But not quite.
The room was filled with expensive Afghanese furniture , and Andi Bin Laden was hanging upside-down from the ceiling in the center of it all. "haxx0r gunman, we meet at last," she screeched in her empty, expressionless voice.
"No," haxx0r gunman said, a shadow of a smile playing upon his lips. "We don't." Her pathetic half-existence was ended by a 2x haxx0rbolt, which proved much more effective at destroying techno-vamps than haxx0rbolts of the 1x variety. "That, was for the thousands who died on this day 50 years ago. To their memory do I devote this killing. But no others!" Within the blink of an eye, he was gone.