“Get the fuck off of my hood!” the man screamed.

Kyle, standing on the hood, got down on one knee, reached back, and thrust his fist through the windshield. He grabbed the man by his Polo collar, and in one motion, yanked him towards him, right through the windshield. Glass shattered everywhere, as the screams of the man’s wife and children lit up the night.

Kyle stood on the hood, grinning, lifting the man, holding him up high over his head.

The man was whimpering and crying, head covered in blood from the shattered glass.

Kyle reached back, and with a wide grin, tossed the man through the air like a paper airplane.

The man went flying, hundreds of feet, and landed somewhere back there in the traffic, on the hood of some other car. Dead, Kyle hoped.

Kyle got back to business. He jumped off the car, and trotted towards the huge tanks blocking the bridge. Behind him, he could feel his hundreds of soldiers following suit.

As Kyle approached, all of the soldiers tensed up. Several of them raised their machine guns and pointed them at him.

There was a perimeter of no cars or people a good hundred feet away from the tanks, one which no one seemed willing to cross.

But Kyle happily crossed the line, walking right into the open space, right towards the tank.

“Freeze!” a soldier yelled through a megaphone. “Do NOT come any further! We WILL shoot on sight!”

Kyle smiled wider as he kept marching, right towards the tank.

“I said FREEZE!” the soldier screamed again. “This is your LAST warning! There is a curfew in effect. We have orders to fire on anyone at night!”

Kyle grinned even wider.

“I own the night,” he answered.

Kyle continued towards them, and suddenly, they opened fire. Dozens and dozens of soldiers fired their machine guns right at Kyle and his men.