>hickok gets into his 80s
>john rolls him out to the table in his wheelchair
>helps him stand up
>hands over the gun
>heh heh oooh boy look what we got here huh
>aint it a beauty
>imma try and reach out and touch the gong!
>pew
>pew
>hehe having a hard time seein
>pew
>pew
>wooo boy that gong sure is getting elusive
>pew 
>pew
>sorry there folks...my eyes aint what they used to be
>l-lets go to some 2 liters
>pew
>pew
>FZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
>haha looks like I got em
>lets go over here to the table...
>sits back down in his wheelchair to discuss the firearm
>dozes off slightly...
>video ends with john pushing the wheelchair back to the house
> 'j-just look out over yonder Hickok'
> 'are we going to the range John?'
> 'yes...yes we are. We're gunna shoot some gongs, live off the Federal of the land..'
> 'and I can stroke the Glocks, John? Maybe smoke a little pot? Some 2 litres?'
> (John crying) 'yes Hickok, you can stroke the Glocks all day, maybe hit the cowboy at 200 yards..'
> 'Sounds good Jo-'
> BANG

26 years later....
> its raining as the black cars pull up to the quiet cemetery
> without a word, men in black coats step out and walk towards the grave of the man who was known as Hickok45
> (1st Agent) 'Is it him?'
> (2nd Agent) 'His tombstone is shaped like one of those old soda bottles.....its him.'
> digging commences until finally the sound of metal on wood is heard
> the black cars are last seen speeding away with a coffin in the back, but no attention is paid to them

> (doctors in a shiny white lab murmuring over the large corpse)
> 'Do you think its even possible?'
> 'Well...theoretically. We can rebuild him. Stronger. Faster. Better vision. We have the technology..'
> 'What I mean is.....is it even legal? UN Cyberaugmentation Resolution 43 states...'
> 'Sandra, we've got weapons and drugs flooding our cities, the police cant do anything against the block turf wars...'
> 'Yes. We need him. Hes the only man who can hit the gong at 300 yards on a windy day, and he could crush a mans skull one-handed they were so big. He was the best 2-litre hunter of the 21st century.'
> 'I heard rumors, but never thought they were true. Hes perfect. Do we proceed, Doctor?'
> 'Do it.'
> Machines overhead lower down, fades to black

> rapid flashes of luminous fluid draining from IVs, robotic scalpels cutting, mechanical servos whining and fitting
> (doctors speak hushedly in the background) 'The procedure is taking well. I honestly didnt think he'd make it..'
> 'His cardiovascular performance is off the charts...'
> 'Neural pathways accepting stimuli..'
> 'Augmentations reading 100% integration across the board Doctor..'
> 'Muscular and skeletal integrity showing A-okay...'
> (Doctor Feldstein says quietly to Chief Medical Officer Stephens, before looking away) 'Do we tell him about the others? About...him?'
> 'Not yet. Lets just keep focused on the task at hand. We dont know how the brain will react after such a long reanimation period.'
> the whirring and grinding of machinery stops, and the surgical robotic arms recede to their positions
> 'The procedure is complete Doctor. Should we flip the switch?'
> 'Lets wake him up'


								cut to 2 years later


>hickok chasing some stereotypical drug dealer down an alleyway
>catches up, tackles the guy
>just before he caps the felon
>"i'd like to thank federal for supplying me the ammunition to smoke your ass"
>bang