It had been a few days since Graves had stood up on court against General Shepherd, and just yesterday, Shepherd was killed. While the media could've prevented it, Graves was jumped by a group of highly political people.

While he was a trained soldier, he took on the group of people without much trouble. Until a few got a second wind. The three civvies managed to get an upper hand on Graves for a solid minute. They started to gloat about the situation when one was struck in the back of the head with a wooden cane.

"What the fuck–" One man spoke up and met the same strike, being knocked clean out. The last one raised up his hands in surrender, but the older man holding the cane rolled his eyes behind his dark shades. The third assailant was struck in the jaw with a loud crack.

"Who the hell are you?" Graves spoke up, wiping blood with his thumb off his bleeding split lip.

The man with a light stumble in his walk approached Graves. His wrinkled face held a faint scar that covered his cheek. He wore an orange leather jacket with a black shirt, his face partly hidden by his shades, but there wasn't any mistake for this man's identity, America's Monster himself.

"Someone who was supposed to be retired." Russell Adler.