Imagine if you were stricken with a condition that caused you to become deathly ill in the presence of cigarette smoke. Imagine also that your girlfriend and coworkers—and the world in general—kept blowing it in your face. Imagine further, that you are a lowly, scrawny carpenter, who, when you 'snap', and decide to strike back at the world, has only the contents of your tool belt with which to even the score, even as the cops hunt you through the streets of Harm City like a rabid dog? Under such conditions, how many smokers could you take off of the planet?
Welcome to the dark flowering of Jay Jay Brooks, a man who will never again take the crap the world hurls at him.
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