Chapter 1 of Roque Mendez, Debt Collector

Apartment 105 was silent and void of any life until a figure opened the door and stepped in. A man, with blond hair, a pair of aviator sunglasses, black leather jacket with rolled-up sleeves, a pair of black trousers, and a pair of brown boots. He entered the apartment, and went to the couch on the center of the apartment. He sat and reached for the remote controller of his television. Beside his couch is a small table, on the table was a  framed photo of him in a fully equipped and ready for combat army uniform. He didn't look so tired, or fatigued, or somewhat broken as he is now. He looked spirited, excited, and thrilled as a smile was plastered on his face. Next to the framed photograph was a dog tag, on the dog tag it read:

 Mendez

Roque

687-12-0932

AB

Catholic

Mendez got bored from watching television, and eventually took a nap right on the sofa. When he woke up, it was already dark, and he heard some strange voices in his apartment. Apparently, the night had fallen, and now, he is not alone in his own apartment. As those strange voices drew even closer, he fended off his will to get up from his comfy sofa, and pretended to be in deep slumber. Then, he heard a silent conversation. "Are you sure that we are walking to the right apartment?" asked a voice. Another different voice replied, "I'm really sure about this one, man. We've heard that this dude got some sick war medals made of gold and some shit like that." Then there's the third voice. "Yeah, I've been staking out this place for some weeks, and I've heard him having some nice amount of cash. From our little heist, I'd say we can get away with three hundred thousand dollars." Roque Mendez who had been listening to the whole conversation was struck. These small-time burglars must've been referring to his cash stash of his various business dealings. From the direction of the conversation, the thieves must have came from the window. All three of them, assuming they got a fourth strong-silent type that just does but not speaks. He then heard some quiet footsteps, just behind of his sleeping couch. Then he heard some silent rummaging and scrounging all over his apartment. He assumed they must've been trying to find his case of old-time war medals and his cash stash. So he crept slowly from his sleeping position to his lamp switch, located the wall next to the very window those thieves had just entered. Roque stood up, flipped the switch on, and said to those criminals, now obviously visible-- and shocked, "Buenas noches, adios. Though I must say, you guys are not very good at being some ladrones."

Three seconds later one of the robbers was downed on the floor while the other two, now brandishing weapons of their own, attacked Mendez. He had previously exploited the swing of one of the thieves' crowbar into knocking down his companion, who was lying on the floor as Mendez engaged the others. Another swing of crowbar attempt at Mendez was foiled as Mendez not only dodged the hit, but jabbed the thief in the jaw. Mendez then heard a cock of a handgun loading-- he immediately knew this was the third robber. So he gave the crowbar thief a hefty hook at his torso, before using him as a human shield facing the gun thief. He gave himself cover behind the poor human shield, then heard a gunfire. The next second, he heard a painful wail-- from the thief turned makeshift shield. The house defender briefly saw a glimpse of what looked like a stream of blood on the thief's left hand. That happened before Mendez swiftly picked up the thief's crowbar and flung it to the gunman. It landed on his forehead, and a loud thunk made sure he was down for the count. By now, the first thief to be knocked down had gotten up, and of course, enraged. He balled his fist, raised it and charged at Roque Mendez. Mendez ducked the thief's first jab, swayed from the second, blocked the fourth, and caught the thief's hand on the fifth. He spun the thief's hand to his back, dislocating it and sending forth a scream from the thief. Then he shoved the thief to a nearby table chest-first, while still locking the thief's hand. Mendez grabbed his head and sent it down to the table's edge. Realizing the thief wasn't out yet, he kicked the thief's calf, making him kneel, then gave the crown a powerful knee that it sent the thief's face against the the edge of the table. The thief was finally out cold, and  by the looks of it, he's maybe out for "Two weeks," stated Mendez. "By the next day you'll be eating with a paja attached to your hand."