Jake had read enough about the movement, though, to have come across rumors that within the groups—terrorist cells, if somebody wanted to call them what they really were—individuals had been planted by the liberal billionaires who funded such madness. Men and women with military, paramilitary, and mercenary backgrounds who had done things that would make the kids cry and wet themselves just to think about. They were there to keep the useful idiots in line, to make sure they showed up where they were supposed to and rioted right on cue, and also to take care of any actual dirty business that came up.

Like getting rid of a former army Ranger who, for some reason, they considered more of a threat than he really was. Hell, Jake thought, all he wanted was to be left alone. If they would do that, he would be alternately disgusted and amused by the kids’ antics but would largely ignore them, as long as they ignored him.

But that wasn’t to be. These guys were actual threats, and the odds were four to one. Jake was willing to bet they were armed, probably with pipes. Maybe they wouldn’t kill him, but they would beat him damn close to the point of death.

- Chapter 5