Jordan was a regular guy, with a regular job, and a beater truck. He drank beer like every other guy, loved his mother, hated his father, and would move mountains for his kid sister. He got up early for work every day, worked hard to do his job well, and went home satisfied that he'd earned an honest day's wage. He loved rock and roll, and never got tired of the dancing hula girl glued to his dashboard when he drove over the train tracks every day on his way to work. She wriggled and squirmed in her skimpy little outfit, and he imagined her giggling as she did.<br/><br/>His hands pounded lightly on the wheel, keeping time with the song on the radio as he drove, slouching back against the seat slightly. The cab of the old truck was not designed for comfort, but he still managed to find it. He must have sat in this seat so much over the past few years the he'd worn the shape of his body into the seat. Reaching down to the seat beside him, he picked up another cookie out of the box and munched it. It was just an average shift, on another day like all the others.<br/><br/>When he finally parked the truck, he hopped out to reveal worn, stained tennis shoes, ragged jeans, and a simple, plain blue t-shirt.<br/><br/>"Watch where yer goin, girl..." he heard a hostile growl, and turned to look, his attention caught by the sound.<br/><br/>There was a man, standing over a girl who seemed to have just fallen. The man growled as she got up. He couldn't hear what she said when she got up, but the smile on her face was... well, to be honest it was adorable. She stepped around the man and continued on her way, oblivious to the man's anger. As the man before him turned around and stepped toward the girl with fists clenched, Jordan stepped forward as well. It only took a few steps to put himself between the girl, and the man moving toward her.<br/><br/>"Back off, brother..." he spoke in a friendly done despite the clear warning, "No one wants to see any trouble here."