Paul Hammond

former U.s. Marine

My Name is Paul Hammond; I am a forty year old former Marine, who has a very particular set of skills that are for hire to the highest bidder. I got tired of working for the U.S. Government a number of years ago, and I opted to use my option of getting out of the military. Of course, as most would expect, the Government doesn’t let go of its assets unless it is under their control, so I hear and see them every once and a while.
I, for the most part, live a ‘normal’ enough life, not that you would ever notice anything unusual about me if you saw me, or my comings and goings each and every day. I date women, bring a few home, once and a while, for some fun just to have them leave the next morning, most never returned. I throw parties for my friends, and I’m friendly in the community. In other words I blend in.
Yet what most people don’t know is that within these walls, hidden by a few well hidden closets are the tools of my trade, my weapons and other toys I use for completing my jobs, as well as a hidden wash sink for gun and gear cleaning, one that empties out to a different place than the regular utilities do. It really is a security thing. Then there is the safe I keep there that has different identification papers, about fifteen or twenty of them, and the machines needed to make them. I rarely ever leave the country under my own name.
I know what you’re thinking. They will eventually find me and trace me, and then I’ll be arrested as a traitor. I say to them… Good luck! I plan well, I always make plans that include several backdoor outs for me to use. You see even the Government agents have tried hard to trap me, and I have always have an alibi for myself.
Ever since I was a kid, I was always defending myself against bullies and the like. Growing up as a true geek had its downsides , like being weak and allowing things to happen, and I did that but once I had enough, I let go. Usually that meant someone was getting hurt and going to the hospital, or the morgue, Wouldn’t have been the first time or the last.
I fought off my tormentors, and took no crap from anyone, nor did I ever hand any out but I could have., that was a choice of mine. I graduated top of my class in high school, and college for that matter either. I got a job, and made a good living. Then gave it up when I went into the Marines.
I came out of boot camp much better, and far more dangerous, than I was when I went in. I came home on leave, and had a run in with one of the high school tormentors. What happened was, he thought he could still push me around, like he did in High school, only he couldn’t and he got put in the hospital for trying to find out after he was warned. I didn’t feel bad for him, as he was warned and he chose not to listen to it.
The cops were even called and came out to talk to me about it. But it was a clear example of self-defense, in my case, and bullying on his. I had nothing to worry about.
When I reached by duty station in Camp Lejeune, north Carolina, I ended up getting exponentially better than when I arrived there.