Hometown Justice: Homecoming

Chapter One

The country roads rolled past him, almost lazily in the heat. He hated the way he had been removed from the marines, but supposed this could work for the best since his last letter from home indicated his father had retired as sheriff of Polkville and was having health troubles trying to run the family farm. He knew his sister could use the help. Adjusting himself in the stiff seat of the cab, Ruler looked to his right to see the "Welcome to Polkville" sign.

"Stop right here, man," Ruler said.

"Sir, with all due respect the commander told me to take you directly into town," The driver said.

"Look, if you let me out here, there is an extra fifty in it for you," Ruler said, removing the bill from his wallet.

The driver stared at the money a moment before taking it. Ruler got out of the car, and grabbed his single bag. He also grabbed a small box in the seat, which held his sunglasses. He removed the mirrored sunglasses and put them on, along with his backwards Duke Blue Devils flat billed hat. He missed being dressed as a civilian. He wore a white tank top that showcased his 'Killkwik Soldier' tattoo on his right arm, and the spiraling barbwire in flames around his left bicep. He also sported some denim shorts that were a bit baggy, not overly baggy. He had met Kobe Bryant a few years back after a Lakers game, and received Kobe's game shoes. He sported those too.

Ruler walked along the railroad tracks he had gotten out of the cab at, passing by the old mill. Polkville Textiles used to be the heart and soul of his town. But from the looks of it, in the ten years he had been gone, things had changed. The mill sat with a ghostly appearance to it, broken windows and some graffiti covered its once glorious walls. Staring intently at the graffiti, Ruler noted it was the trademark of a gang that had given the upper part of North Carolina so much trouble his platoon had been called in to handle things: The Garza Gang. Ruthless criminals who had run rampant throughout the northern parts of the state until Ruler and his loyal platoon entered the fray. Shaking away the memory, Ruler kept walking. He adjusted the bag over his shoulder and continued walking.

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Meanwhile on the other side of town, a large red Ford f-350 carrying six passengers pulled into a parking spot in front of a hardware store. The four doors opened as all six men clambered out. The driver, wearing a black tank top and tight denim pants, signaled to the other men, who all wore denim pants and button up shirts, to enter the store. The men all laughed as they spotted the sole customer in the store.

"Why, Mrs. White, why didn't Mr. White come down here himself?" asked the white mustached guy, with a red tattoo of a dragon on his right forearm.

Mrs. White smiled and nodded gently.

"Mr. White doesn't know I'm buying him new tools, Mark, and the only hardware store he trusts is Frank Bingham's," she said softly.

"Mr. White's birthday is this week isn't it?" Mark asked.

Mrs. White nodded.

Looking to the driver, Mark signaled with his right hand. The driver picked up a bunch of tools off the shelf and stuffed them into a bag. He passed the bag to Mark. Mark extended the bag to Mrs. White.

"Here you go, Mrs. White. All on the house courtesy of Tommy Leons and The Leons' Boys," Mark said, waving his free hand towards the driver.

"Mark, you were such a nice boy growing up. And you've gotten yourself in the Leons' Boys and become something else," Mrs. White said, taking the bag.