This is what follows.

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Jimmy. No one called him that any more. Hammer. That was his name now, his chosen name. It echoed his choice of weapon, the choice of which was tied to his greatest love: hitting things. Bashing things into bloody oblivion. Cracking bones. Splitting skulls. Yes, that was the best. To his credit, he always thought, it was a mercy to them. It was usually quick. Hammer didn't play games, he just wanted to get to the part he loved: the part where his victim is a ruined mess beneath him. That was the good part.

"Can't this fuckin' thing go any faster?" Hammer spat and smashed his fist on his thigh impatiently. "I want to kill something already."

"ETA is three minutes." Hawk put in. Hawk. Bastard thought because he was the pilot he should name himself after a bird.