"There was a form? Damnit all, the secretary only told me to sit down - sorry 'bout that," he said, straightening out as he chose his words, taking a few seconds. "Well, name's Michael Wight, twenty-four, and uh," he stopped, hoping the Commissar wasn't convinced he was simply a liar, "Y'see, I was, well, still technically AM a Hacker. s'in, a Lane Hacker. I won't bore you with all the details unless you REALLY want me to, but long story short," he paused again, thinking of the quickest way to say it without looking like an idiot, "I was born in Bretonia, my dad was an Armed Forces pilot. When he retired, he moved me, my brother 'n' mum to Los Angelas. Things were pretty stock there, y'know, we had enough to get by. Went through school, always had a thing for computin', I mean I'm not damn whizz, but yeah. One of my friends, his dad set me up with a job with Ageira," he sighed, shaking his head, "After a while I got caught in one of Ageria's 'company cutbacks', whole bunch of us did, so we went to the Hackers 'cause it was the only place we COULD go, y'know... Anyway. Most of 'em got lost in the money - the booze 'n' the hookers, me? Well, at the end of the day I was always doin' it to mess with Ageira, make 'em look incompetent. But, y'see I just got tired of the rest, not many of them were actually doin' what the Hackers set out to do. For the lack of a better word, and at the risk of soundin' a little cliche, they got 'corrupted'," he scratched his neck a little, his voice ringing of a little shame, "Look, I won't keep natterin' on. At the end of the day, I'm here 'cause I realised that sure, there are those of us who have the means, the skill, the KNOWLEDGE to fight back. But what about those who don't, y'know? What about those other Ageira guys gettin' laid off who can't support their families or put their own damn lives at risk 'cause someone relies on them. I feel like I should be doin' what I can to help them or anyone else havin' the same problem," he finished and sighed a little, wincing both at the gun and a sharp pain that ran up his arm, probing at it with his fingers like he'd done hundreds of times before - grunting softly as the pain alluded him.
