Vern blade was in the ill lit carpark of Lake St Claire Community College.

It was bordered by large trees, probably deciduous pines, which provided a comfortable shade during the summer days but at night turned the carpark into a mugger’s paradise.

And right now, it was night.

He always parked in a different spot. ‘Break your routines and never be predictable.’ Was the Blade’s adage.

He quickly scanned the parking lot.

Looked like there were still some late-night classes running as there was an assortment of beat up student cars scattered around. He knew that lecturers had a separate underground parking lot, lucky elites, not that they could afford better cars.

To others, it would seem like nothing but a casual glance; but in the time it took an incense stick to burn Vern had actually plotted the best route to bring him to his steed, and three back up routes as well.

Vern set off in calculated strides.

The gravelly asphalt crunched under his feet. The odour of pine and discarded cigarette butts filled his flared nostrils. He was awake to any danger.

Where possible he kept to the shadows beneath the pines, after all, the dark held no terrors for him and this would confuse enemy observations.

Bang.

Vern immediately combat rolled to a nearby pine and pressed his back into its hard, woody trunk.

‘False alarm, just a damn car backfiring.’

Besides this and a minor incident when he eyeballed down a stranger, who turned out to be another student, he arrived at his steed… without incident.

His hand caressed the gleaming metal chassis of his 2012 Ford Ranger.

What a beauty. She glistened under the cheap orange street lights like a particularly classy street walker, hawking herself to make ends meet, except it was his car and he would slide inside without protection.

He’d raised the body and fitted better suspension for real off-roading adventures. But this wasn’t all, she also had an extra pair of blinding high-beam lights, and an Expedition roof rack bed that extended up from the trailer for when he wanted to camp out beneath the stars.

With one last suspicious look over his shoulders Vern popped open the door and slid in with practiced ease.

‘Time to burn some rubber,’ he thought as his steed purred to life.

He left East Riverside behind and drove past the Tecumseh mall.

What he really wanted was to pull into Factory House and demolish one of their stacked beef burgers. But Vern Blade had discipline, and when he decided to do something he stuck to it. ‘I’m a man of my word, a man’s word is his honour’ thought Vern, ‘I told her I’d stick to the #cavegirldiet to show my support, so that’s what I’m going to do!’

He shuddered at the thought of tonight’s meal: an assortment of nuts and tubers that had cost $30 from an organic wholefoods specialist.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Vern checked the time, 8:21pm.

He would go home, have some chow and then pop into the local gym.

He took a right and crossed over Ambassador Bridge, then left and away from the city centre. He lived out in a quiet part of Detroit where the city merged with the urban prairie – what some folks called the abandoned areas of Detroit.

Vern had chosen to lay low here because Detroit was the smallest city that he could think of.

‘There was another reason to live here,’ he thought. A gunshot rang out somewhere nearby and he drove past two rival pimps screaming at one another on the side of the road.

‘After spending most of my life fighting in the war-torn husks of Kabul, Baghdad, and Aleppo – Detroit kinda feels like home.’

He smiled. Happy with the challenges he faced like a true warrior.

Vern pulled up to his house, a small one-story building, he’d had some renovations done and rendered over the brickwork himself. It was one of the few houses actually occupied on this street.

He took out a flashlight and walked up the driveway.

When he got to his front door he paused.

‘It’s missing…’

Vern always stuck a blade of grass at the bottom of his door. It would stay in place if the door wasn’t opened. But now it was gone.

Vern’s mind ran through the possibilities and likely scenarios. There were a lot of unknowns, but one thing was for sure: someone was going to be bleeding tonight.

He calmed himself. And decided on his course of action, simple was best.

Vern acted like nothing was out of place. He put the key in the lock and turned off his flashlight. When he opened the door inwards he hurled it with maximum power and dived low into the hall.

The door had collided with something soft and there was a pained grunt. ‘So, there’s one behind me.’

The lights were still off, and he could use that to his advantage. Forward, overwhelming aggression. He couldn’t stop to deal with the man behind. He stayed low, in the dark anyone holding a gun would be aiming at chest height.

If there was someone behind the door chances were that they wanted to take him out quietly with knives, or more likely, capture him alive for their paymasters.

He rushed to the left, into his living room, just as the lights clicked on.

A fist was hurtling towards his face.

He deflected it with his forearm and it skimmed across the top of his shoulder.

Vern made a fist around his keys, the metal sticking out between his fingers, and returned the blow.

He drove his fist upwards from his crouched position and exploded himself up behind it. Driving with all his strength.

His Fist met a powerful belly, but even so the man screamed out in pain.

The keys didn’t tear through the man’s suit. But they were still effective, biting into flesh and causing intense and distracting pain.

That was all Vern needed, a distracted target was an easy one.

Following through with his punch, Vern was now much closer to the bastard, so he swung his left elbow up and around, his target was the man’s temple.

Vern’s elbow connected with a heavy thud and the man’s head snapped back into the wall besides the light switch. Then his legs buckled, and he crumpled to the ground.

Vern heard the thud of footsteps from the entry way and just as he reached out and switched off the lights he caught a glimpse of the man he’d slammed with the door, his head was lowered and he was charging towards him.

Darkness fell, and Vern skipped a step backwards - the man ploughed on right through where Vern had stood a moment before and crashed into the back of the sofa with a grunt.

Vern hopped forward and kicked out where he imagined the bearded man’s ribs should be but only met air.

“Fuck!” Vern cursed. He felt an intense stabbing pain from his calf.

He jerked back his wounded leg and withdrew a step.

“You know, you’re worth more alive but screw that!” A voice said from in front of him.

Without a thought Vern’s body launched forwards and with momentum behind him he fired off a fierce low sweeping kick and felt it connect – the tip of his boots crunching into a knee-cap.

“Ahhhh! Oh! God!” the man screamed.

He heard a knife clatter to the floor as the man’s shadowy form hunched over in pain.

If Vern had neighbours he’d be apologising for causing such a racket

‘Time to finish this.’

Not letting the man recover Vern stepped up and brought his fist down into his face, the man fell silent and crumpled to the ground like his companion.

Vern blade stood alone in the silence. He quickly took control of his breathing, and within a few deep breaths his mind was clear and focussed.

He switched on the lights and shut his front door. Then looked down at the wound on his calf, there was quite a lot of blood, but it didn’t seem too deep.

‘Tchh, I’m getting rusty.”

As Vern Blade prepared to entertain his guests, tendrils of thick swirling fog flowed through the silent streets.