James Stagger has always hated big city life Southern California, with its unpredictable, upside down urban environment. It’s a place where Stagger always felt rage.
He is the Honor Code Killer, ruthless, beer drinker with muscular arms and solid legs. A trained killer, former special operator. His friends see him as an angry veteran who feels America chewed him up, and spit him out, after serving honorably in the service; fighting their worthless wars. Once a close friend of his told other friends, Stagger tells him how he barbecued a captured enemy combatant, because the guy gave him a dirty look. Stagger didn’t worry about a court martial, because he was officially a spook, the military command can’t bring a ghost to justice. That’s the sort of man he is.
Stagger walks over to an open window to reflect on the high crime rate he
has brought to the big cities of Southern California, after returning from the wars in the Middle East. The smog made the air smell like wet dogs, as the hot air blows against his face.
Then he sees something in the distance, or rather someone. It is the figure of Bobby Lewis. The low-level gang leader is demanding and aggressive, with scared tattooed arms and firm legs.
Stagger grins. He has plans for this scumbag.
As Stagger steps outside, Bobby Lewis comes closer, Stagger can see a smirk on the street thugs face.
“I am here because I want to holler at you,” Bobby bellowed, in a focus tone. He slams his fist against Stagger’s chest, with the force of a heavy hand. “I frig ‘in hate you, James Stagger.”
Stagger just stares back, even more vicious as he clutches the handle of his extremely sharp knife in the small of his back. “Fuck what you have to say” he replies.
They mean mug one another with emotional rage boiling just beneath their calm demeanor, like two deadly snakes bracing for combat, ready to strike. While Grunge Rock music blares in the background from one of the apartment units.
“Some of my boys say a lot of heat has come to the block since you arrived in the hood, so I figure I come and holler at you to tell you to get the fuck out the hood! Or you will have an accident, you feel me?”
Stagger just holds his position, and gives the street thug the middle finger sign.
The street thug lunges forward, throwing a jab at Staggers’ face.
Stagger reacts by blocking the punch with his weak hand; with his strong hand. Stagger removes the dagger from the small of his back, slamming the iron studded tip handle forcibly on top of the street thug’s skull.
Bobby Lewis scared arms trembled and his firm legs wobbled. He feels weak, his head becomes hazy, brought on by the fractured skull he now has, caused by the strike from Staggers’ heavy handled blade.
Lewis lets out an agonizing groan and collapses into Staggers’ arms, moments later, Bobby Lewis is dead.
James Stagger quickly carries the corps of the dead gang banger into his apartment, placing the dead man into his tube to be dismembered after he has himself a nice cold brewski.