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= F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. =
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criminal intent
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spanky the ueber hacker giggled and
snapped and grabbed the info of yet
another lamer who was too stupid to
recognize that he was being socially
engineered.
[ john smith, 666 lame lane, apt #205
phone: 234.1234 dog: booboo ]
he gave him a 'fuck with' rating of 7
out of 10 and closed his info file.
his fingers flew over the keyboard and
ashes from his cigarette fell into the
keys.
*_dumass_* hey spanky, got any ccs?
not bad. he traded one cc for 30 esn/
min pairs. dork. he made a note to
fuck with him in the future. he
swigged his coffee pensively and dialed
some of the local bbs'. they were
always good for a laugh or two. he
liked fucking with lamers.
(two years later)
z, formally spanky the ueber hacker,
sat at his keyboard typing furiously.
he wore all black, contrasting sharply
with his pale skin. the handle of a
silver pistol was visible just above
his belt. he lived in a loft nowadays,
large servers and workstations spread
liberally throughout. the only light
emanated from glowing monitors.
[ yeah, i have what you were looking
for. it was tough to get, though,
so i will be looking for a little
extra.
Z ]
he smiled as he thought of the large
influx of clean cash to come. he
heard that paris was nice this time
of year. he could go there and chill
for awhile, maybe retire for a few
months. his reverie was broken by
the telephone. he snatched up his
headset.
[ yeah, i'm here. just show up. ]
wow. he was going to get his payoff
sooner than he planned. he logged
off and headed for the kitchen, where
some nice 'imported' wine awaited.
he popped the cork and poured some
into a crystal wine glass, bought
and paid for with money he 'borrowed'
from a bank in the Caymans. he took
a sip just as he heard the elevator
squealing.
[ he's here. ]
he went to the elevator, still
carrying his wine glass. he felt
pretty good. the door opened to
reveal an older man wearing an
expensive armani, carrying a silver
briefcase. he smiled at him and
pointed at one of his machines.
they walked over to one of his
workstations. he sat and logged in,
fingers tapping madly. he found
the file for his client, who was
standing behind him, silent.
then z was dead, his neck now
nonexistent.
the client took the file and left.
[ stupid hackers. ]
Palpable Obscure
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