Warning: This is a creepypasta about FMAN (FMAN122) the infamous hacker - none of this is real, and I made almost all of it up.

'F' danced around his small apartment, the shadows of furniture sat motionless on the floor as the one lamp that was on in the whole apartment flickered. It was midnight, and he knew that only the bravest (and the rarest) Jammers would be online. With the click of a mouse, he was sent to Coral Canyons, Aldan.

He smirked as he clicked a player that had many rares on their trade. He had tried it on many spare accounts and his glitch had worked. He clicked the message, typed "Thanks for playing!" and sent a necklace to the rare Jammer. He watched them disappear as he was logged on to their account.

He smirked and laughed silently. The Jammer's code would be disconnected soon, so F recycled their animals, discarded their dens, sent all their items to his account, and logged off. 

The next morning, F sat at the old coffee shop on One Hundred Twenty-Second Street. The raspy spell of java and freshly ground coffee beans filled his lungs as he sat down at a large table. He pulled his laptop out and positioned it so nobody could see his screen. Logging on to his usual account he sat and started to do some more hacking. F was content with his new discovery.  

After a long day, F sat at his desk. He grumbled, sketched, and scribbled until he came up with his final plan on Animal Jam. He was going to hack the mainframe and shut the game down for good. No more rare Jammers would be in his way. He sent his wolf to Coral Canyons and started his first attempt at hacking the mainframe. He clicked aggressively, and after the tenth try, hacked into the mainframe. A message popped up on his screen. "Leave now, F." It flickered. "We know you are here, F." He felt a chill creep up his spine.

F continued to click frantically, but the screen wouldn't budge. "Ha!" The screen flashed. "You are not the only one who is good at hacking," appeared briefly. F slammed his computer shut and drove back to the coffee shop in anger. The barista greeted him as he walked in, but all he did was mumble. Here, he was known as "F of 122nd Street". The others in the shop greeted him with the usual "Hi F!" or "How are ya, FMAN?",  but he hardly heard them. He sat down at one of the computers in the back and hacked back onto the mainframe. "It must be my computer," he said to himself, but he was wrong. "Think you could escape us, FMAN?" the screen flashed, turning red as though it were screeching. "Go away!" he snarled at the computer. Then his world went dark.

"F? FMAN?" F opened his eyes and looked around. It was a dark hospital room. It was the barista. F sat up and looked around. "What happened to me?" he yelled at the barista. "The computer you were on, it sent out a shock that made you pass out," she told him with a blank look on her face. F blinked. "What did the screen say?" he said apprehensively. The barista rubbed her arm nervously. She gulped and said, "Hello, Mel." She then added, "It also said 'you are next.'" F gaped at her for a moment, dumbfounded. Suddenly he burst out of the hospital bed, quickly got dressed, and ran out the door.

When he got home, he opened his laptop and got back onto the mainframe. "I will get rid of you this time!" he screamed at the laptop. Suddenly a person's face appeared. "You will not defeat our mainframe. He is created by disobedient Jammers like YOU," the face laughed. "Maybe you would like to meet him?" he asked. FMAN started to feel a buzzing. Sparks erupted from the computer's screen. He started to run from his laptop, but the force was too strong, he was sucked in. From that day forward, "F" was going to show no mercy to other Jammers. He vowed to get out, but the only way was to suck in another Jammer.

"F" was to get out.

"You are next!"