Anson Grey was a gentle man. He knew this because he had worked at becoming one for years. Indeed, it had taken nearly fifteen years in a veteran's psyche ward to regain this gentle disposition he'd had before he joined an elete covert ops team. A team of men who specialized in very ungentle ways of neutralizing enemies.

The military had "excused" him from this group when he had become too violent for even them. He still recalled that other him. The one who had successfully carried out the hit his team had been ordered to carry out. There was no doubt their target deserved to die for he had set off a car bomb which had killed 52 civilians. Men. Women. Children...Innocents. Just to foment unrest. A monster.

So he felt no remorse when his blade smoothly swept across the sleeping man's throat, killing him as he awoke from the pain in a supposedly empty house. But then the adjacent bathroom door opened to reveal the dying man's wife; frozen in shock. So to elinate loose ends she had to die. But he hadn't been required to rape and mutilate her first. And then search the house for and kill the children. All six of them.

So, 15 years of therapy. Another time and now another man. A gentle man. A free, medicated man who loved poetry. With a military retiree's pay. And a love of reading poetry on line. During the 5 years since his release he'd become an expert at all things related to his lifeline to the world. His computer skills seemed to come naturally in all the courses he took on programming, web development, virus protection and such. And all this time his love for poetry and his many online friends at the mant poetry sites he visited grew. He knew his poems weren't very good, but he enjoyed writing them anyway. There were many days when all he did was visit the sites and read and write out his wishes in verse. His wishes to live out a gentle peaceful life.

Then one day his lifeline slowed and then froze. His computer had fallen victim to a hacker who had sent him a virus. Not for any particular reason. Just for fun.

By now he was good enough at computers to clear out the virus himself in about 2 hours. But he took 4 hours to deal with this one because he also traced it back to its source. And sent the hacker a warning to leave him alone.

Thus began the escalation. The hacker would attack, Anson would clear the virus and send another warning. And after 4-5 such exchanges, the "old" Anson began to emerge. It was this former Anson who cleared out the last virus. Who also sent a final warning to the hacker to stay away from his computer.

The hacker thought this was all good fun. Thought he was anonymous. Thought he was safe. So he laughed and sent Anson another "present".

By now both Ansons had traced the hacker's E-mail address, his name, his physical address and everything about him. By now it was the old Anson who was in control. And enraged, And fed up.

Anson took a bus to the neighboring city where the 28 year old hacker lived.He then took a taxi to within 2 blocks of his house. After paying the cab fare Anson walked down the night time neighborhood street with his duffle bag. He soon came to a group of overgrown ornamental bushes. Where he stopped and changed into his dark "mission" clothes. And checked the edges on his blades.

He stayed to the even darker night shadows for the last 200-300 feet to the home of his tormenter. He silently picked the lock and deadbolt to the house where the only light came from a desk lamp and computer screen. In front of which sat an absorbed hacker.

Who was about to learn a whole different meaning to being "hacked".