Bright red buckets paint the ground, stringy pieces of tendons and muscles, soft mush of brain tissue, strands of intestines and other vital organs all piled on the ground surrounding him. This is his beautiful little girl Lisa, the same little girl who loved to play with dinosaurs and the book One Batch, Two Batch.

Please Daddy, will you read it to me? Floats through his head and there is an entirely sickening feeling that begins in his gut at the chance of not being able to read those essential lines once more.

In that pile exists his son, Frank Jr. Immediately the off-key piano notes echo throughout his head and the sight of cookie crumbs next to the old family piano fills his mind. Listen to this, Dad! He wants the request one more time; he wants to hear those notes that don't sound quite like what they are supposed to.

Finally, completely undistinguishable from her children is his wife. The same love of his life that had completely decimated his heart on more than one occasion, who had reduced him to aching sobs and pitiable begging, who had been his motivation and his heart.

He had fought in a war for these few precious people. He had endured grueling desert heat, the gunfire and explosions of opposing countries to ensure the protection of these vastly significant people and his home: his safe haven, his harbor, the only form of heaven that he would ever steadfastly believe in.

He wants this nightmare to end, he wants to awaken from this hellish reality to find his little girl waking him up. He wants to go downstairs in his home and find that all is well.

One batch, two batch, penny and dime. Please Daddy will you read to me?

This is his last thought before the bullet sinks into his own skull, mercifully taking his hellish sight and forcing him into the depths of his subconscious.

It becomes a fight, his body struggling to continue on, his mind sluggishly attempting to process what has happened.

But every now and then, a single thought would penetrate his mind once more: One batch, two batch, penny and dime. Please Daddy will you read to me?

Yes, he wants to say. I will read to you, take you into my arms and protect you from all that wish do you harm, tucking you in at night so that you never, ever have to worry about what it feels like to be scared or alone, he thinks.

It becomes almost like a promise, those words. The promise to always be there to keep her safe from all the bad guys, the darkness and cruelty of the world, from the gunfights and the horrors faced in a war. He will take on this role of protector and savior and knight so that none of his family ever face that kind of violence. It is a nightly ritual that before the war he never deviated from.

One batch, two batch, penny and dime. Please Daddy will you read to me?

All he wants is that chance, the opportunity to tuck his girl in at night. For that chance he will fight the oppressive darkness that threatens to remove him from the world. His little girl is waiting for him to get up and protect her, keep her safe from all the monsters of the world.

For her he wakes up, he deals with the aching pain in his head and the overwhelmingly rapid pace of his heart. Only there is no more precious little girl waiting for him anymore.

She was killed in the automobile robbery attempt that went horribly awry he is told. This makes absolutely no sense with the burning hot images that are forever imprinted in his head of his family torn to shredded and bloody pieces.

At first, he becomes convinced that those images are an unfortunate product of his service, his worst nightmare projected onto a horrible situation. Then he finds the brief article that mentions the shooting that he was there for at Central Park, where his family was brutally gunned down. He knows then when he sees that there is absolutely no mention of civilian casualties that there is something suspiciously wrong. He can remember the popping sound of all the guns going off, a warzone in the middle of his city, and the gripping panic that seizes his heart as he tries to immediately evacuate his family.

They had no chance, with all the military grade weapons being used, of making it out alive. He is too slow, for once, and he is forced to witness his family torn apart in the one area that is supposed to be safe. Didn't he fight a war on the other side of the world for this elusive promise of safety?

He is not credible, thanks to the bullet in his head. At one time his savior, now it is his nemesis because there is no way that he can begin a credible investigation. No one will take the word of a man who has taken a bullet to the head and sustained significant brain damage who has served his country overseas. His life experiences are working against him as a sad representation of the state of society.

The promises that he has made are now rendered useless. There is no promise of safety here in his mother country, in his city, in a park that is used by countless innocent families. There is no promise to serve his country when it has failed him in such a deplorable way. There is no promise of retribution when the public justice system has failed.

The only thing that remains are those horrid images that burn through his mind demanding justice.

One batch, two batch, penny and dime. Please Daddy will you read to me?

The words take on new meaning. He is unable to calm his racing heart as he promises to keep her safe by taking on all those who threaten her. The bikers, the Irish mob and the Cartel.

Slowly he begins to amass plans; he seeks out the areas that the men responsible for the attack frequent, he figures out when the groups are dealing with significant amounts of money and when they are handling weapons. There is no significant need to go out of his way when he can use their vast resources to take his revenge, enact his due justice. He will violently ensure that these men can never do to others what they have done to him, he will forever keep his promise to his little girl.

No matter what he faces, despite all the debilitating pain and the piercing bullets, that one thought rings through his mind: One batch, two batch, penny and dime. Please Daddy will you read to me?