| | | | __ _  ___| | __ | __ )  __ _  ___| | _| |
               | |_| |/ _` |/ __| |/ / |  _ \ / _` |/ __| |/ / |
               |  _  | (_| | (__|   <  | |_) | (_| | (__|   <|_|
               |_| |_|\__,_|\___|_|\_\ |____/ \__,_|\___|_|\_(_)

                         Hack Back!
A DIY Guide for how to Rob Banks


                                  ^__^
                                  (oo)\_______
                               (  (__)\       )\/\
                                _) /  ||----w |
                               (.)/   ||     ||
                                `'
                       For Subcowmandante Marcos


	I am a wild child
	Innocent, free, wild
	I am every age
	My grandparents live in me

	I'm a brother of the clouds
	And I only know how to share
	I know everything belongs to everyone
	that everything is alive in me

	My heart is a star
	I am a son of the earth
	I travel aboard my spirit
	Road to eternity


These are my simple words that seeks to touch the hearts of simple and humble, but also dignified and rebellious people. This is my simple story to tell of my hacks, and to invite other people to hack with cheerful rebelliousness.

I hacked a bank. I did it to give a liquidity injection, but this time to below, to the simple and humble people who resist and rebel against injustices worldwide. In other words: I robbed a bank and gave away the money. But it wasn't me alone who did it. The free software movement, the powershell offensive community, metasploit project and hacker community in general they are the ones that enabled this hacking. The exploit.in community made it possible to convert the intrusion into a bank's computers into cash and bitcoin The Tor, Qubes and Whonix projects, together with the cryptographers and activists who defend privacy and anonymity, are my nahuales, or in other words, my protectors. They accompany me every night and make it possible for me to remain free.

I did nothing complicated. I only saw the injustice in this world, I felt love for all beings, and I expressed that love in the best way I could, through tools that I can use. I am not moved by a hatred for banks, nor of the rich, but a love for life, and the desire for a world where everyone can perform their
potential and live a full life. I would like to explain a little how I see the world, so you can get an idea of ​​how I came to feel and act like that. And I also hope that this guide is a recipe that you can follow, combining the same ingredients for baking the same cake. Who knows, there you are tools so powerful that you end up serving them (and also all of you) to express the love they feel. {?}

	We are all wild children
	innocent, free, wild

	We are all brothers of the trees
	children of the earth

          We just have to put in our hearts
	a burning star

	(song by Alberto Kuselman and Chamalú)


The police are going to invest a fuckload of resources to investigate me. They think the
system works, or at least it will work once they catch all the "bad boys. I am nothing more than the product of a system that does not work. As long as there is injustice, exploitation, alienation, violence and ecological destruction, many more will come like me: an endless series of people who will illegitimately reject the bad system responsible for this suffering. That badly made system cannot arrest me. I am only one of the millions of seeds that Tupac planted 238 years ago in La Paz, and I hope that my actions and writings water the seed of rebellion in their hearts


 ____________________________________________
         To be seen, we cover our faces
 --------------------------------------------
         \
          \ ^__^
            (oo)\_______
         (  (__)\       )\/\
          _) /  ||----w |
         (.)/   ||     ||

To make you listen, hackers sometimes have to cover our faces, because we are not interested in you seeing our face but in understanding our words. The mask can be from Guy Fawkes, Salvador Dali, from society, or in some cases the puppet of a crested toad.  As it happened, this time I went to dig up one of the deceased to lend me his balaclava. I think then I should clarify that Subcomandante Marcos is innocent of everything here because, in addition to being dead, I didn't consult him. I hope that your ghost, from a Chiapan hammock “sepa encontrar la bondad para” as they say there. dismiss this “deep fake” the same way you shoo away a mean insect - that's fine, it could be a beetle.

Even so with the balaclava and the name change, many of those who support my actions are perhaps going to pay too much attention to my person. With its own autonomy shattered for a lifetime of domination, they will be looking for a leader to follow, or a hero to save them. But behind the balaclava I am only a girl. We are all wild children. We just have to place a star burning in our hearts.