The smell of burned tar impregnated the air and it was quite distracting, but Booker did not care, neither did he care for the date, the hour of the night or for what he was about to do. Forward he marched, straight towards the construction site where lies the scum who dared to hold what is most precious in Booker's life from him. He could hear the loud sound of laughter and cheap garbage which they called “music” further ahead, in that miserable hole that was their Lair.

Disgusting, is what it was. They really resembled a tribe, forsaken from earth and free to do whatever they wanted, regardless of any possible principal or moral value. In an open area, those animals stood around as a bunch of retarded sheep. They drank, talked, played and were doing things which would bring shame to the unlucky fools that gave birth to them.

As Booker walked closer to the centre of that dump, people saw him and backed up to avoid being in his way. As they slowly cleared the area surrounding Booker, it opened a clear view to his sole purpose to be there. His blood pressure rose drastically, changing his skin colour to a scarlet red. His fingers crawled deep into his hands forming fists, building up his anger which did grow inside him, ferocious as wild fire on dried grass.

She was there, sweet Emma beautiful as ever. He remembers as clearly as if it had only happened hours ago. The first time he saw her and held her tiny baby body in his arms while she cried for the first time, then her first steps. As flashes of her past childhood, graduations, first day at work and moments of her young adulthood played in Booker's mind. His anger grew until it was absolute. His girl... his little baby girl, for whom he had fallen into a deep love with since he first laid eyes on her. Was now found on a state Booker never dared to imagine. Her clothes were torn to rags. She was semi naked while sitting on the ground silent with a portion of her face. Worse of all she was chained up to a collar, which was being held by the disgraceful Punk who these degenerates followed. He was sitting on a big chair right beside her, laughing while antagonizing Booker's dearest daughter with small kicks and whispered curses.

“STOP!!!” Roared Booker so loudly that he made loose iron bars from the construction site shake as his voice echoed for more than a minute.

The cheap and distasteful music together with the conversations ended almost instantly. All eyes were facing Booker now, some with anger, some with confusion and some with fear in their gaze. It was interrupted by the voice that came from ahead of Booker. An annoying voice that gradually changed depending on the word he was speaking, as if his voice couldn't decide between a deep or high pitched tone.

“YO!! MAN, I don't know who you think you are. But, you come here yell at us to stop?! You come and YELL?!! Do you want me to break your jaw to teach you a lesson?”

At the moment the threat reached the tender ears of Booker's beautiful daughter. She gasped in horror while at the same time brought both hands to her mouth trying to hide what had just been done. The animal like senses of the leader of those degenerates noticed her reaction. That boy was many things and called even worse, but one thing that he wasn't was completely stupid. He had already done many things to try to break her. However, she was really tough and only now had shown any weakness. The dots were fairly easy for him to put together.

“Wait a minute here bro” he said with his eyes wide opened just like a child that just found a new toy to play with. “You are the Big Daddy, aren't ya?”

Silence made it clear as to what the answer was. The loud and inconsistently pitched laughter of that bastard took over the place.

“Ohhh man... isn't that cute?” he said between chuckles and gasps of air “you have to be the #1 dad, Pops. It's the first time a parent thinks he can talk to me like that in years. Now why do you think you can come here stop our fun? Why don't you answer that to my friends, RIGHT BOYS!!!”

The sentence wasn't even finished when a few delinquents stepped up from the surrounding crowd. With a quick glance to both sides, Booker counted about ten guys circling him. Fearing what was to happen to her father, she desperately got hold of the bastard's arm.

“NO! No no no, please. Don't do this please. He is my father, he works on three jobs, is everything I have. He is a good man; please don't hurt him, please!” Her pleas did not seem to surge any effect on him, until she screamed, “I'll do anything! PLEASE!!!”

He faced her with a fierce glare and an enormous smile, his expression defined a single word; Victory.

“Anything? Well I guess I could...”

“No! SHE WON'T!!!”

With a mocking tone, the leader of these misfits responded to Booker's shout. “What was that Pops? I don't think you-”

“I said: she will not do anything to a bastard vermin that is worth less than s***!” With that said Booker had sealed his fate, the low life king rose from his seat with death in his eyes.

“KILL HIM!!!”

Quickly they spread around Booker, moving to where each felt they had the advantage. It wasn't.

The first one charged straight to Booker from the front he was a mean and big thug, well fit compared to the others. He dragged most of his strength into a merciless right hook, which could easily knock Booker flat or worse. Alas by stepping into the malicious onslaught and quickly turning to his left, he made an imminent collision of Booker's shoulder to the thug's unprotected chest. The impact of a full body against the thug's torso threw him off balance, just what Booker needed. Without a moment’s notice, Booker took advantage of the interrupted thug's strike and grabbed his extended arm. Twisting his whole torso, he dragged the massive beast of a man around him and threw him at two others that were too close to his back.

Then, a vicious attack came swooping from his right. If not for Booker's keen reflexes, that punch would at least have dislocated his jaw. He rapidly repelled the enemy’s motion by moving his left arm upwards for defence, which gave him the perfect opportunity for an offensive act. Launching his right fist precisely into the scum's neck, it was evidently clear that his foe wasn't a threat anymore. Especially after he placed both hands on his throat while struggling to suck the air back into his lungs.

Booker ceased the chance, and jabbed the unfocused thug, provoking him to perform a nearly blind left hook for self defence. His worst mistake. Booker got a hold of the hook with his right arm while pressing the weight of his body against the thug's shoulder, lowering his head exactly where Booker wanted. Countless numbers of hits were placed at the thug's right side of his face, deforming the features of his face to the point that not even plastic surgery could repair.

When an unnoticed kick found its way into Booker's guts, the pain was absurd. Booker thought that he might even have broken a rib or two, and for that type of damage, it had to be the "foot" work of a steel toe boot. Booker wanted badly to stop and hold the hurt area of his abdomen tightly, but he had to ignore the pain. Retribution was nigh, especially because Booker could not let this mistake encourage this insect to think he had a chance to survive this. That maggot was done for, for Booker had his leg in his deadly grasp. Turning 180 degrees, Booker forced that maggot to face the opposite direction, and with a mild push the thug landed with open arms to the ground. If not for his shirt, major areas of his skin would have been torn off by the gravel. That wasn't enough though.

Seconds after the fall, that vermin screamed with unmatchable pain as Booker forced both of his knees into the guy's back. The sound of crushing bones was loud and disturbing for everyone around to hear it was certain that if that insect was lucky he would live the rest of life as a paralytic. Stepping away from the broken and jerky body, Booker gained some ground between him and the last three chickens standing. Almost in complete victory Booker saw the hopelessness in his opponent's eyes.

Two of them glimpsed at each other, as a sign of fear to what they were about to do. At a moment’s notice they went on a desperate charge hoping to overwhelm their mutual adversary. That was a tricky situation for Booker, for the air had started to feel heavier and he needed to force his lungs into a constant breathing. Clear signs of fatigue after such a fast series of movements and pressured muscles, not to mention the pain in his chest, that was starting to build up. If he wanted to leave that god forsaken hole in one piece, he would need to finish them off as soon as possible.

The one in the left was just a bit faster than the one on the right, and that was Booker’s golden moment to act. Eager to land a punch, the imbecile put it all his weight in it, losing his balance in the process. Booker took his wrist and at the same time extended his right leg in the direction of the other charging idiot. Allowing his stupidity to finish the job. It was hard for people to watch as that punk basically impaled himself with Booker's leg, falling on the ground. Booker couldn't even imagine which one hurt the most, the trauma in his stomach or the thought that he caused this to himself.

With no time to waste, Booker used the same leg that was already being used to sweep the first thug out of his feet. His fall wasn't a bad one for Booker was holding his arm; successfully Booker not only dislocated his whole shoulder but was able to break some parts of his arm, based on the three loud and disturbing sounds that echoed from his bones.

Getting up from rolling, a little sound got Booker's attention. It was the thug trying to get on his feet while gasping for air. The little punk did not understand the first message, that Booker thought he had placed so well in his gut. Maybe something a little harder will make him understand. Before the idiot could get a grasp of what was happening, the taste of dirt and blood took over his confusion as Booker's kneecap greeted his face. Soon after there was nothing in his mind but darkness.

At that moment there was only one incompetent and useless punk left. Fear was clearly visible in him, especially because of the puddle forming beside his trembling right leg. It only took one step from Booker to destroy whatever dignity there was left in him. He was not the only one though, for the room was as still as stone and nobody had the will to move. The silence was broken with the cursing and swearing of the foul mouthed and worn machete from the side of his seat, making the people gasp for what was about to happen. He then advanced as beserkly as a rabid dog, bringing down the rusted blade that would have been a gruesome and agonizing blow. Tearing the base of his neck apart and probably hacking shoulder from body. This would be the end of Booker if his arm had not blocked it at the right moment, same time hitting a merciless attack on the nerve underneath that bastard’s armpit. With it Booker grabbed tightly at the back of that s***'s head with one hand and with all the silent and cold hate, Booker aggressively punched his nose. Near to none could withstand and watch as the same movement was being repeated, as strongly and brutally as a blacksmith hammering metal into a different shape.

Booker's frozen and empty eyes did not even flinch, while leaving a mark in that bastard's face. A mark that would bring him nightmares each time he saw his face in the mirror.

It was over it ended just as quickly as it started but nobody there could bring themselves to believe what had just happened. They had watched all of it even when Booker took his daughter's fragile hands and simply walked out of that place, without even lifting a finger to stop him, leaving behind their fallen leader with the nose caved into his face.

Outside the night breeze was a refreshing one, cooling down the adrenaline that rushed in Booker's veins. His legs gave out and he dropped to ground, as his injuries finally caught up to him.

"Dad? DAD!? Please get up, don't do this to me. PLEASE!!!" She begged now in tears.


As his vision started to blur and gradually darken, the only thoughts going through his head was of how a person who had never been in a real fight before, just a few self-defence lessons when he was younger, could have done what he did. Looking up to his daughter, as she was desperately calling to him, was when he found the answer. So he did his best and kept himself awake for her, He couldn't leave her like that.