Embers fell from the high beams of the warehouse Hamish had decided to burn down.  They scorched his bare arms and singed his hair.  No matter, he was still hunting through piles of debris to make sure everyone was dead.  He saw movement and shot indiscriminately, hearing a low moan and then nothing but crackling flames. 

"Get the fuck out already" He chided himself.  A snap from above made him look up into a face full of crumbling wood.  He narrowly dodged the mess and cursed, both God, and then men he had come to kill.  The bastards had been running a back alley club they called "Wonderland" that was host to all manner of vices, most of which would have made the denizens of Sodom blush.  Hamish had only found out about it from a boy who'd escaped and almost died in his arms on the doorstep of his rather modest tea shop and apothecary he ran with his brother Robert. It had taken Hamish six months and a significant amount of money in bribes to find out where Wonderland operated and who ran it.   It took another year to put together a crew he trusted and then he struck. 

Retribution came to the men who ran Wonderland in the form of executions carried out to the minute of Hamish's arrival.  For his part Ham decided he'd take on the club itself and everyone in it. Several hours into his rampage he finally set the building on fire to suss out the few cowards who remained alive and that was how he now found himself dodging flaming debris as he headed towards the only exit still unobscured by the roaring inferno.  He saw a pile of ragged, dirty clothing move seconds too late, as a gun raised from the tatters and shot Ham in the arm.  He cried out in fury and unloaded into the pile, not noticing the timbers above him give way.  Before he could could even gasp, the fiery wood crashed down on his back throwing him to the ground.  The smell of blood and smoke was the last thing Hamish took in. 

Ordinarily Constipated would take the main highway to get to his destiny. However, on this particular day construction of some sort was holding up traffic. In a hurry to reach his destination, he decided the back roads would be an ideal way to go. He would arrive late yet at this point quicker than taking the main road. 

The evening air was nice, so he put down the top on his Cadillac Eldorado. Taking in the sites and fresh air he was about 5 miles into his drive when an all too familiar scent filled the air. What the hell he thinks to himself. The sky was smokey and lit up. He slows down and surveys the area to spot a building on fire. 

Not knowing what the hell was going on he gets as close as he thinks he should and turns the car off. He got out the car and walked closer to the building engulfed with fames. There are a few parked cars. He spots an open door which appeared to have a body right at the entrance. He assesses the situation and decides to get close enough to where he can touch the body. 

The flames were nearing the body that laid before him. He quickly decided to grab their arms and drag them a few feet out on to the blacktop. He goes back to the door and peers in, and he could see burning bodies. Then the sounds of explosion were kicking in. He knew he was done here. He turned around and went back to the body laying before him and picked it up and carried him to safety. 

Timothy sighed, hoping for a breeze or anything to cut through the stifling warmth of the sun. He took off his wool jacket and rolled the sleeves up on his shirt, looking around for a spot of shade to stand in. Ham was late; well, later than usual and he was tempted to hail a cab rather than wait any longer. He was home on a short break from the boarding school he attended and Ham had promised to pick him up. 

He owed a lot to Hamish and his younger brother who had taken him in under their protection since his escape almost a half a year previous. His former place of "employment" had been absolute hell and he had been lucky it hadn't killed him. The things that had happened to him there were so unimaginable that he still couldn't speak of them. Only Hamish knew the truth about Wonderland and it had been no easy feat to discover it. Time and time again, he'd warned Hamish to stay away but the old man was too stubborn to listen. A cold feeling of dread washed over him as a realization dawned over him. Hamish was never one to let a vendetta go, he was reckless and seized every opportunity he could to take revenge. 

Tim spun around and set off at a fast canter, rounding corners as fast as he could towards his former jobsite. As he drew closer, he could hear a commotion and smell the smoke that billowed out over the street. People were gathered in the street, murmuring about the fire and how long it was taking the truck to arrive. A few civilians had formed a bucket brigade but it was doing precious little to staunch the flames that had engulfed the building at the end of the block. He pressed on, pushing through the crowd until he reached an impasse. Someone had left their car in the middle of the street and the crowd was too thick to muscle through so Tabasco scuttled sideways down the alleyway a few doors down so he could come out the other end. Nobody knew of the passageway between Wonderland and the alley as it was well hidden from view. As he burst through the hidden doorway, he saw another man who he didn't recognize, standing in the alley over the body of someone else. In an instant he could tell who it was even though Hamish was black with soot. He had a few read streaks on his cheek, likely from falling cinders. but he was breathing at least. He looked at the man who had rescued Ham and thanked him, reaching out to take custody of his adopted father. 

Hamish awoke to a white ceiling and a stern looking woman looming over him.  It only took his pain addled mind a few seconds to piece together the fact he was in a hospital and he cursed aloud.  The woman glared at him.  

"Sir, there's no cause to be using such language!"  She hung a clipboard at the foot of the bed and left the room before Ham could apologize.  He closed his eyes and thought about what he had done.  He had never been opposed to violence but he wondered is perhaps he had gone overboard.  Then, thinking of Timothy, he gritted his teeth and tried not to get angry all over again.  Maybe he hadn't done enough.  Coordinated assassinations, the destruction of a well hidden club of perverts, it seemed like he'd gone too far, but felt like he'd failed somehow.  Not being one for introspection these feelings overwhelmed Hamish.  He flushed and felt dizzy.  The woman came back into the room with a Doctor in tow and introduced herself. 

"I'm nurse Morgan and this is Doctor Hanson."  Ham nodded in the direction of the Doctor. 

"Hamish, you've been here for a week.  This is the first time you've been fully awake.  It's a miracle the explosion didn't do more damage."  Hamish squirmed.

"Explosion?"

"It's very normal that you don't remember.  Your nephew Timothy brought you in.  He said you'd been working on your car when there was a catastrophic failure of some kind that blew you across your yard.  You're very lucky man."  

"Oh yes, my car.  How is it?" Ham felt a strange calm flow over him.  Timothy had everything handled. 

"Well, about that, your nephew is here for a visit, I'll let him fill you in on the details.  I'd like to discharge you in the next few days as long as you continue to improve."  

That's sounds great Doc.  And Nurse Morgan?  Sorry for the cursing."  The nurse gave him a curt nod of approval and left with the doctor.  A few minutes later the door swung open and Timothy stepped in.