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TECHNICAL SERGEANT CLINT Fortune and Kevin Doyle left the café a little happier than when they’d entered. Doyle picked up the bill and even left Tony a tip—an extra quarter, for him to think about how he should treat people in the future.

Doyle slipped Clint a couple of large bills. The former technical sergeant initially declined, but after a little pressure, he stuffed the cash into the pocket of his ratty blue jeans. Doyle waited a moment as Clint got settled in his favorite spot in the alley next to the café.

Clint looked up from the blanket he had pulled around his waist and said, “No one bothers me back here. Unless the guys from the café come out to throw something in the dumpster. Usually, they leave me alone.”

Doyle waved and started to walk away when he heard the café door into the alley open. He paused for a minute, out of sight. When he heard some shouting, he rushed back to the alley entrance.

Clint cowered on the ground with the two morons from the café, Tony and Dwight, standing over him. Doyle didn’t need this. Not now and not here. He didn’t want any record of him ever being on Staten Island. Frankly, after growing up in Brooklyn, he rarely wanted anything to do with Staten Island anyway. He hesitated, waiting to see if Tony and Dwight were going to get violent. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore.

Doyle stepped into the alley and said, “I thought we’d settled this.”

Tony said, “Look, this is none of your business.”

“Probably not, but I’m still going to stuff you both into that dumpster over there.” Doyle nodded toward the low dumpster with the lid standing up against the wall behind it. “I’m just curious. Why are you hassling him?”

“He won’t listen.”

“That’s a lesson I’m about to teach you. You’re not listening either. I thought I made it clear you needed to leave him alone.” Doyle paused for a moment and added, “You need to show a little respect for someone who gave so much for the country. Or do you not understand things like that?”

Without warning, the muscular guy, Dwight, swung a big right hand at Doyle’s head.

Doyle ducked it easily. Then twisted Dwight and grabbed him by his shoulders, moving him in front of Tony. Just as Tony was throwing his own punch. It caught Dwight right in the mouth, and Doyle could see a spray of blood. Maybe there was a tooth in it as well. He shoved Dwight into Tony. Tony hit his head on the side of the dumpster. Doyle turned to make sure it wasn’t too serious. Then he grabbed Tony by the thighs, lifted quickly, and flipped him into the dumpster.

That’s when Clint called out from the ground, “Behind you.”

Dwight had picked up a broom handle that had been leaning against the wall near the door. Thanks to Clint, Doyle ducked below the swing of the wooden handle. Then Dwight stepped back and pointed the broom handle like it was a spear. He charged Doyle, who shifted his weight slightly, redirected the larger man, and snatched the broomstick right out of his hands.

Doyle looked at the panting man and said, “You’re obviously an athlete. But you need to calm down and think things through in a fight like this. Even if you really stuck me, it’s just a rounded broom handle. At most it’d give me a bruise.” Then Doyle calmly handed the broomstick back to him. “Try again, but make better use of the weapon.”

Dwight just stared as he took the broomstick. At first, he held it over his head like he was going to strike straight down. Then he lowered his head and charged forward, knocking Doyle back into the wall.

Dwight smiled and said, “I used to be a linebacker.”

Doyle grunted. “I can tell. That was good form.”

Tony popped his head over the top of the dumpster and Doyle whipped a quick backfist to knock him down. He turned as Dwight swung the broomstick twice. Missing him both times.

Doyle decided he’d had enough of this. He faked with his left hand and then drove his right knee into the side of Dwight’s leg. He was trying to hit a nerve that would essentially give Dwight a “dead leg,” which would hurt for a couple of days.

The big man went down on one knee. Doyle delivered an elbow to stun him.

“Easy there,” Doyle said, helping the bigger man back up. He led him a couple of feet, then pushed Dwight hard, so he flipped over the edge of the low dumpster and landed on top of his friend.

Doyle looked over the dumpster wall and said, “You guys ever bother Sergeant Fortune again and I’ll finish this lesson. Do you understand?”

Both men grunted understanding.

Doyle walked off, satisfied he had solved the issue. He knew these two would never admit that one guy had kicked both their asses at the same time.