"He's much like a process that's in use: you can't delete him. No matter what you do - it's impossible. The system doesn't allow it. So move on - find another way."
I have his address.
"Richter - don't. You mustn't."
It was his mistake. He left himself wide open. He knows the rules.
"Rules? He doesn't play by the rules!"
That's precisely the point. He doesn't. So I won't. If that's the way he likes it than that's the way he'll get it.
"You know he wins if you do that. Then you're playing like him."
No I'm not! He's playing with computers! I'm playing with real physical matter that just might assist in bashing his skull right the fuck in! He doesn't win, Kent - he'll be fucking dead! I win! I win motherfucker!
~
Richter stood in the shadows in front of Dmonwv's physical address:
179.709.002.02
He clutched a baseball bat in his tightly clenched fists - Richter was still very pissed off. The only reason he was lurking in the dark was to wait until the lights inside the house turned off. Then he would walk over to the house and find a way in.
There were no passcodes - no keys required. In the physical world, things break with the most understandable methods: brute force. And so the baseball bat did the shattering of the window - clearing away the glass so Richter could reach thru and unlock the door. It was so simple.
Now he stood in darkness, wondering where that basterd hacker was hiding - probably thinking up some plan in his mind that he thought was so brilliant - or probably equally terrified at the prospects of a real break in. Dmonwv.dll had never had to face physical threats - only virtual ones.
On his computer, Dmonwv amassed an virtual army to patrol and protect his beloved digital realm that was Windows XP. But here, in his crumbing, dirty and not the least bit padlocked or ADT'd bachelor pad, Dmonwv realized that he had certainly left some gaping holes in the security of his computer. He peered out from behind his partially opened bedroom door to see Richter heading for his computer - with a bat raised - it was too much for Dmonwv to bear silence.
"NOOOOOOO!"
But Richter lay down the hatchet into the brushed aluminum tower. It didn't distort much - so he went for the dual LCD monitors - ending their brilliance.
Dmonwv would have tried to stop Richter, but he left his glasses on the bureu, and couldn't see very well. So he stood dumb and blind in the darkness, watching Richter destroy his only means for being.
When he had felt enough satisfaction - Richter turned around and headed for the skinny figure hiding in the darkness.
Dmonwv closed the door to his bedroom and leapt onto his bed - going for the window behind the headboard, but that was pointless. The poorly manufactured 1970's Arab-oil-embargo-era door burst into a thousand splinters as Richter advanced. He grabbed Dmonwv by the neck and punched him across the face. The computer science graduate had never felt such pain in his entire life - so tears sprung to his eyes.
But Richter couldn't see them in the dark. Only the silhouette of some mysterious, malicious hacker who put a virus on Richter's computer that was so bad, it ultimately caused his internet retail business to fall into bankruptcy. Now his life was at stake - his children's, too. How could he feed them without a job - without money? Apparently, when Dmonwv wrote such malicious code, he had no foresight into such things. And he never foresaw this, otherwise he'd have stayed away from computers period.
~
It just so happened that Dmonwv's house was equipped with a dungeon (or as some people might call a basement). Richter threw Dmonwv onto the hard stone floor - his hands and feet bound together and his mouth taped shut. These precautions would insure that Dmonwv would not be able to be mobile - to speak - to eat - to be heard or discovered, etc.
But Richter didn't want Dmonwv to just lay there in peace - he wanted him to be in severe pain. So he broke some of Dmonwv's ribs - so that every breth he took, was one he'd wished he couldn't. Richter also stepped Dmonwv's face - crushing his nose to make it even harder for him to breathe. And before he left, Richter found a hammer which he used to crush Dmonwv's fingers, turning the bones into splinters.
The enraged Richter spied the shimmering blade of an axe in a dark corner.
"No" Dmonwv muttered in agony, "please."
"You hack me," Richter lifted the axe, "I hack you."
The weight of the blade plunged into Dmonwv's bare abdomen, sinking into the maze of his intestines and spilling out blood and bits of digested food that the young man had consumed to continue living, but now it was all pouring over the genitals he never used and onto the cold concrete floor - what a waste, he might have thought, if the pain wasn't sending him into a state of shock, the realization that he would die soon probably would.
Richter lifted the blade and let it fall once more - this time sinking into Dmonwv's chest. The bones seemed to crack so easily, and a second strike sent the wedge further in. At this point, there was no sign of life from the young man. Richter was satisfied.
