@DarrianLynx I hope you don't mind me "darkening it up a little." 

Happy Birthday in advance :) 

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I drive a white panel; well rusted grey panel now, 30 year old Dodge Van. It reeks of butt sweat, an electrified sulfur blend and genuinely old death. The sweat comes from me, the sulfur emanates from the $26,000 worth of devolving mixed generation technology and the death… that’s another story.

I’ve been living in this beat-up, multi-dented, exhaust-smoking, commonly back-firing hunk of metal for almost 4 years now. This damn thing took me a few months to modify before I left my crappy apartment behind. Looking at the shoddy state it’s in now you wouldn’t think so, but it did originally take me that long to setup the six double decker workstations, the twelve-set director computer for the fibre channel switch powering the storage area and the dual mobile satellite system. I threw my 5.5” thick Vietnam War era Military mattress in one corner and the portable toilet in the other. I hate that thing; the toilet not the mattress. The bed, even though it sits directly on the ridged floor metal, is actually surprisingly comfortable.

Do I want better living arrangements? Would I like a nice vehicle? Hell, do I want working plumbing?

No; I have everything I need to subsist.

I have come to accept who I am, what I want and acknowledge the lines I’m willing to cross to get it.

I’m listed as a high-value criminal in all 50 states and 36 foreign countries around the world, but in name only. However the name listed is one of my many aliases; they have no face, no physical description and no biological evidence.

Am I a criminal? It’s complicated. Yes, probably.

Inside the van I do have 18 illegally procured non-licensed firearms, and yes mounted behind the driver’s seat is a triply reinforced binding bolt with a short length of chain hard welded to an adjoining set of 4 cuff shackles; for both hands and feet. I’m going to need to replace those soon as they are not stainless steel and the hinges are getting quite an array of ever-aging dried blood in them.

Am I violent? Absolutely.

I’m on the go non-stop, traveling from point-to-point with specific targets in mind. It’s quite a complicated pipeline to choose the person I want, but I won’t go into it here. To keep it simple; I find who I want, grab them by any means necessary, then *get* what I want. How it ends is up to them; life or death.

I’ve had 67 “victims,” as the FBI enjoys labeling them. The agencies can call "them" what they like, I know what "they" really are.

By hacking into the multinational mainframes I’ve estimated that there are now close to 100 law enforcement agents, through probably 30 different agencies, spending their entire workday hunting me down. That is honestly a very intimidating concept; the mind-boggling idea that somewhere between 800 to 1,200 man-hours are spent *daily* on just *me.* I’d imagine if I can keep this going a few of them will consider me the official focus of their careers.

I know I’ll get caught sooner-or-later. I know I’ll easily get 30 non-concurrent life sentences by just the evidence in this stupid van alone. I also understand there is even a fairly likely chance that when I’m caught I’ll be shot on sight.

But I’m not done. My personal mission isn't over. Not by a long shot.

Crouched over my main terminal, which runs my own version of Black Dragon Linux, with a customized kernel, I cycle through the seemingly endless open-port security screens. All this has become so repetitious my mind can’t help but wander back to my first target. It was this exact situation; me trying to simulate a fire alarm in the building directly outside the van.

I worked for a Fortune 500 Company whose entire employment base had their life savings wiped out in a single day by two corrupt executives. $225,763.94 was stolen from me in a blink of an eye. Like everyone, the loss was hard for me and had common results; I lost my home, my marriage went to divorce, and I was diagnosed with depression.

My supervisor turned to heavy alcohol abuse, our human resources manager just disappeared and my cube-mate shot himself.

That’s when I decided to do something.

I had roughly $18,000 left in an old 401k from my 1st employer. I spent some of it trying to save my marriage by paying for group counseling, yeah that was a waste. The rest I spent on what and how I live now; this damn van. I’m a computer science expert, which means I find these pricks however I can; social or electronic hacking, pure phishing and sometimes by simple force. If you look closely enough you can see these types of news reports almost daily.

These cold bastards steal from their own employees, retirees, sick people, and even veterans for Christ’s sake. While they live in their huge homes with their fleet of cars, bought with the stolen money; they pay back a little [here] to an investment complainer [there,] or fill out official documentation showing market losses on bad investments that were never really made.

What’s worse? When they get caught the punishment for “white collar” crimes are a mere slap on the wrist compared to what I call equivalent “violent” crimes. But what really is the difference between someone who “strong arm” robs someone for $20 or someone who tricks a disabled war veteran out of his life savings?

When I find these people I tend to do things I’m not particularly proud of. I really don't even try think about it anymore; my actions are almost autonomic now.

I force "them" to return the stolen money to the rightful owners. By any means necessary.

Am I Robin Hood? Some say yes; I say no.

Am I a Super Hero? Some say yes; I say uh no.

Am I a Vigilante? Some say yes; I say I don’t think so.

Some say these “white-collar” criminals are really intelligent; I say I’m a helluva lot smarter than they are, so what *does* that make me?

My eye catches something on the security screen bringing me abruptly back to the ‘now.’

Ah, got it! I simply hit the [return] key over the node labeled { &_alarm.fire.main } and away we go. The fire siren blares and within seconds hordes of folks dressed in formal business wear pour out of the building’s main exit. I electronically locked all of the other exists. I’m getting too old to multitask all exists let alone physically chase anyone down for any great distance.

There’s my mark now; 49, 5’10”, 215lbs, douchey haircut, wearing a $2,000 custom tailored Italian suit. He was the main player in a $200M loss via Health Care fraud causing thousands of individuals and families to lose coverage.

He clogged the system for months by laundering it all through his own off-shore telemarketing companies while hundreds of people lost their lives due to countless procedure rejections. I saw a news article on CNC-online where one of the fatal cases involved a 12 year old girl who needed a kidney transplant.

Through the crowd I notice he’s fortuitously stepping closer to the van on his own, he looks a little freaked-out.

Good.

I can feel the inevitable; my face heating up and my heart start to pick-up the pace.

I think after I beat the bank codes out of this guy I’m just going to shoot him in the face.

Originally written back in a Science Fiction Writing Course back in High School in 2010. Can't believe it's been that long. This was actually a lot longer. Maybe I'll post the rest for fun some time. Enjoy!

It’s a beautiful day here in the big city. The Sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and

people are going about their daily lives without any worry. Except being eaten alive by three ferocious T-rexes rampaging through the streets!

Welcome to Fossil City, my home town, in the year 2020. Here you don’t have to worry

about dogs pooping on your lawn, or cats meowing after midnight on your fence, or little gerbils crawling up and biting your leg. Nope, you don’t have to worry about those anymore because the number one new pet that everyone wants is a dinosaur. Eight years ago, scientists have discovered a way to recreate dinosaurs using the fossilized blood vessels found in their bones and synthesizing it in order to create dinosaur DNA.

Kind of like that Steven Spielberg movie, Triassic Park or whatever it was called.

Dinosaurs are now once again free to roam the Earth. Today, dinosaurs are being used as security agents, sporting activities, and house pets. And may I add that having a dinosaur as a pet is awesome, except having to clean up the big messes they leave behind (if you know what I mean).

The wild dinosaurs are kept away from the cities in order to protect the people by

specially designed electrical fences. Sometimes these fences are not stable and the bigger

dinosaurs always bust right through them, like these three rexes. 

Normally, in a controlled situation, special law enforcement, known only as the Dino Rangers, is deployed to help control these wild beasts and return them to their natural habitat unharmed; however, this situation really isn’t under control. The three Tyrannosaurs have crushed cars, smashed market places, busted buildings, and even tried to take a bite out of a few people, luckily no one was hurt. In this situation, this is where I come in. Who am I you ask? I’m Raptor Man!

“WOOOOOOOOHHHOOOOOOOOOOO!” I shouted to the top of my lungs because I was flying as fast as a speeding bullet on my jetpack. 

If anyone saw me flying, all they would see is a large oddly shaped blur speeding right pass them. I arrived at the spot where the T-Rexes had reportedly been rampaging. Once I landed, I couldn’t help but look around at the destruction.

Cars have been smashed, flipped upside down, and covered in what appears to be large

incisions to the doors. I could have sworn I saw what appeared to be a tooth sticking out of the car. Windows were busted wide open with more car parts sticking out on the inside. Street lamps were knocked to their sides and buildings had small open areas where it looked like the T-Rexes have smashed their tails into because the city is as tight and condensed as New York City (luckily for New York they don’t have to deal with this).

I heard from a distance to what sounded like a man’s voice shouting with glee, “Hey!

Look! It’s Raptor Man!”

Some of the people that were hiding all cheered for joy, but quickly ended when they all

heard the thundering roar of the tyrannosaur. I could see them now, spotting the three trouble makers at the corner of Reagan Avenue. Three large, green figures, about 40 feet in length, about the size of a double-decker bus, with very large skulls that are powerful enough to crush bones with their dagger-like teeth. 

Their short two-fingered arms are not something you should worry about, but their long tails able to deliver a powerful kick. Their dark, yellow eyes are capable of seeing anything that looks like a meal from twenty miles away, and right now they are looking at me. What they saw is a five foot and twelve inches tall gray person with red boots, lower arms, gauntlets, hands and a red, oval-shaped with three short spikes sticking out on the back.

The larger of the three looked at me for a long time then gave out a tremendous roar that

sounded like a large band of tubas and trombones all playing a high note at the same time. They began to approach me with caution, not knowing that I may be a predator or prey. Each time they took a step, the ground shook as if a small earthquake was going through the streets. Their stomping sounded like thunder coming closer from the horizon. Their three-toed feet left large footprints into the tar-painted streets.

My heart began to beat faster every time they got closer. They halted when they got close

enough so I can see their drool drip down from the gnarling jaws, and they licked their rotten, yellow teeth with their pig-skin pink tongues. I activated my gauntlets and three twelve inch long claws that popped out with incredible speed just a little above my wrists.

“Let’s do this.” I whispered to myself.

I leapt towards them with at an incredible height. Unfortunately, one of them whacked me with its tail, and like a baseball coming in contact with a bat, I was out of the park. I landed on top of a car on the other side of the street. The tyrannosaurs charge at me once more. I looked around the area, trying to spot anything that may seem useful. I spotted some street lights and came up with a plan. 

After dodging the jaws of death, I lept towards the street lights. Using my titanium claws, I sliced the lights. Then using my super strength, I threw them at their hind legs, causing them to trip and fall. Once they were down, I grabbed some more street lights and tied a series of knots around their legs and their jaws. The three T-rexes have finally been captured and peace was restored. The people came out from hiding and cheered for their hero. 

One of the police officers approached me and said “Thanks Raptor Man. You’ve done it again.” 

“All in a day’s work, officer,” I responded as I used my jetpack to fly off towards the horizon. I guess the theme to my story is to find your destiny. I know for sure that I have found mine.

He wears no mask or cape.

     He's only human.

Robbery, 

     murder, 

            rape..

     His weapon is a gun.

Justice is his goal

     For those who break the law.

It's time to pay the toll.

     He asks them what they saw.

He's no Superman.

     Just go and ask him.

Heroics aren't his plan.

     Crime to him is sin.

He wears no mask or cape

     So don't you worship him.

Robbery, 

      murder,

               rape...

     He'll guide you to your fate.

Now night falls over us

    The moon is shining.

He wakes up with a rush

    With perfect timing.

Dons his mask and cape

    Still he's no hero.

Robbery, 

     murder, 

             rape...

    The clock's hit zero.

The sight of him strikes fear

    For those he's after.

Sometimes they shed a tear

    Then comes the laughter.

He breaks their sanity.

Robbery,

      murder,

                rape...

     Timing is the key.

For their lives they plea.

Daylight comes again.

    Rush and don't be late.

He has to find a man

    Who wears a mask and cape.

Robbery, 

    murder, 

             rape...

    He's no hero.

Darrian Lynx