haxx0rgunman - Of Love's Labor's Lost

haxx0r gunman stared at the screen in front of him. He was looking at pictures. Nude pictures. Of Andi Rogers.
He had probably seen them a thousand times since they had been taken, but they still got his boat floating as well as they had 40 years ago. So it was no surprise to find him spending this morning in 2045 alone, in his life-support pod, downloading 40 year-old Andi Rogers porn. Or . . . was it? His meterometer beeped defiantly.
"Mr. gunman, I hope I'm not disturbing you?" The President's familiar, yet despised smiling face flickered onto the screen.
"The only things that disturb me are the thoughts I have when I'm alone," haxx0r gunman replied coldly. "That and the scene of ten thousand corpses, strewn before me and dead by my own hand. To kill ten thousand is not a crime against man, it is a crime against life!"
"That may be true, Mr. gunman, but as long as you have your life, you'll owe it to me. Which brings us to today's mission, an easy one for anyone so I'm expecting it to be just a breeze for you." The president's face was replaced with a 3D holomap, outlining some kind of patrol mission.
"You and Flup will be flying a routine patrol of the Gauntlet sector. Flup will be taking one of our XR-709 fighters, and I'll assume you'll be in that oWnD 1 scrap heap of yours. You're to make contact with the relay beacons at Nav-Points 1, 2, and 3." The President's words played out on the holomap as he spoke, and then it was replaced with his still-smiling face. "Any questions?"
"Just one. Wasn't the Gauntlet sector shut down . . . twenty years ago!?" The President's smile faded and then so did his image.
Suddenly, but not much to haxx0r gunman's surprise, 3 hulking green monsteroids tore through the doorway into his outer life-support chamber. haxx0r gunman stepped out of his pod, 2x haxx0rgun at the ready.
"Mordosh! Mordosh mordosha!" haxx0r gunman screamed at them in their native Monsterese.
So, you come to me in my home, to kill me. To take my life from me in my own home!?
"Baltose es kule, dena mario san alibose," the lead monsteroid calmly retorted.
I come to take the life of the man, no, the devil, who took my family, my home, from me.
But much to the monsteroid's chagrin, haxx0r gunman retorted even more calmly, with three 2x haxx0rbolts. Each found it's mark, and the remains of the monsteroids messily made their way to the floor, waiting for one of the ever-present cleaning bots to sweep them into its cavernous metal womb.
So, thought haxx0r gunman as he returned to his pod. Today I have delved one level deeper into this blasted, no pun intended, monsteroid conspiracy. But who knows just how deep it shall prove to run? And, even more importantly, what has become of Flup?
It seemed that, once again, only time would tell.