Law.
 Law was something absolute, something intangible. It served as a control for the vermin that plagued his home city, and a beacon of hope to the desolate people of the overpopulated city. With the right hands, it could be the salvation of humanity, the key to uniting the torned wastelands that was  the once the States of America, and restore it to its former glory.
 That was why he, a boy from the slums, had joined with the Enforcers. They held the power of the law, where no crime they saw went unpunished, and good deeds were praised. It was the ideal they strived for, to bring law upon the lawless, and salvation to the forsaken. It was the only opportunity to practice his ideals, to turn the slums of his birth to its former glory.
 True, such high positions would be hard to join. But with all that had happened, such things would be nothing compared to that.

 He had seen the sneers and grimaces. But he did not care.
 Never compromise, never surrender. The words had been seared into his mind by his father, and had only been tempered as time passed. He had made a promise to restore the sector to its former glory, and no one would stop him.
 No one at all.

 The night was dark, and throughout the sector, crime was rampant. People were mugged in the alleys night after night. Drugs were dealt at every corner, even in broad daylight, and the local police, whether they saw it or not, simply didn’t care.
 No, it wasn’t that they didn’t care; it was that they wouldn’t care. They would take their cut of the profit, caring nothing of the people who suffered under their deals, and as time passed, corruption would breed. They were the worst of them all, those who abused the law for their own personal gains. To use justice as a means to achieve evil was a thing he could never forgive, an absolute disease he had to pick out, with neither mercy, nor compromise.
 He was an Enforcer, and the night, however dark, was merely the beginning.
 His motorcycle roared to life, streaking down the dirty streets like a comet, the red headlights illuminating his path to glory.
His job was not to slay the beasts of the hydra, but to strike at the heads. With a single stroke, he could throw the criminal underground into disarray, again and again.
 A like-minded informant had tipped him off to a secret deal between two of the crime families, presumably over territory. There, they would negotiate the terms in person, providing an opportunity to take them out in a single stroke. He was heavily armed, and prepared for a firefight, something he doubted their goons were, considering their positions as old allies.
 By the time he had collected his thoughts, he was already nearing the warehouse where he knew they would be meeting. But instead of slowing down, he merely accelerated at the wall, readied the rocket turrets on his bike and braced himself for impact.
In an explosion of concrete and steel, he blasted through the wall, and threw himself off his bike, and even as the sound of screeching steel on stone became known, he had drawn his shotgun, and began his attack.
 The goons, as he had predicted never stood a chance. A few shots of 12 gauge rounds quickly stopped whatever resistance they might have held, blasting through their cheap suits as though they were salsa. Bloody, chunky, salsa.
 When he had dispatched the last of them, it was then that he moved to the leaders. One was a frightened balding middle aged man obviously panicking in his presence; his companion was more lax, as though contemplating his reason for coming here.
 “Douglas Keller, Nicholas Makarov, you are to be judged for your crimes.” He spoke to the men, his voice blank and metallic. “You are accused of drug trafficking, human trafficking, murder, arson, kidnapping, grand theft auto, and much more. How do you plead?”
 “You attacked me, and when I’m found, I want a lawyer, I’ll have your bad-“ He cut Marakov short with a swing of his shotgun, blasting his head off in an explosion of blood.
 “Defense noted. Next.” The barrel of the shotgun was now at the other man’s head.
 The balding man was scared now, and he could even make out a slight stain in his khaki pants, indicating that he had wet himself. A good thing. Better to be frightened of him, then to think nothing of him.
“I…I have money, I can give you whatever you want, just please don’t kill me…”
“You know what I want, Keller? I want nothing more than to see you dead on the floor. I want all the lives you’ve destroyed to be restored back to life, and you to be thrown in prison for all eternity. But we don’t have that, do we? So we’ll have to settle on the next best thing.” He readied his trigger.
 “Don’t kill me! I have a family!”
 Never compromise, never surrender. “How many families have you ruined then?”
 There was a flash, as the man known as Douglas Keller died, his brain exploding in a spree of gore.
 His death would never bring all those he killed back to life, but the news of his death, would likely be welcome news to all those, who’s families were destroyed by his reign.
 He was only a death among the hundreds of the strong preying on the week, abusing their strength to their own personal means. No one would mourn him, not after what he had done.
 For a city on the brink of destruction, he was only the first catalyst for change, the beginning of a crusade that could finally change things for the better, where the innocent would never again have to grovel in front of their abusers, where peace would be studied in place of crime and blood.
 There would be innocents caught in the crossfire he knew, but it was a day he would hope to come, if this city was to survive.  But until that day, he would have to fight for justice, and all the innocents that belonged in the world.
Climbing back on his motorbike, he revved the accelerator, once again riding into the night, in forever pursuit of what had to be done.
 He was an Enforcer, after all. To bring law upon the lawless, salvation to the forsaken, it had been the Enforcer’s creed, and in time, it had become his own as well.
 No one would be able to stop him on his crusade. He wouldn’t refuse anyone who joined, nor would he chase anyone who left, but for those who would stand in his way, he would crush them all, whoever they may be.
 Law was the instrument in which he would bring order to the world, and he intended to make full use of it. After all, what could stand in the face of a law itself?