The Marvel Knights Group presents: The Enforcers #2

They'd been told to call him Mister Big.

He'd been their boss once. Before the Kingpin. Before Osborn. The suit was Armani, tailored to fit. The mask was metal, shaped to his face. An idealized face, but one they nonetheless recognized. It had once belonged to a man named Foswell. But he was dead.

"Big?" Ox rumbled, fists clenching unconsciously. Montana put a hand on his arm to steady him. Fancy Dan stepped in front of the other Enforcers, arms crossed, face flat.

"Who the fuck are you and why aren't you dead?"

"I'm the answer to your prayers, Daniel Brito. You and your four friends. Mister Big has a job for you."

"Mister Big bought it a long time ago, metal head. So unless you some sort of zombie, I ain't buying what you selling," Dan snapped, pointing a thin finger at the newcomer's face. Mister Big chuckled, a raspy metal sound.

"Then it's a lucky thing I'm offering it for free, Brito. Come out of this stifling atmosphere with me, gentlemen. We have a once in a lifetime opportunity to discuss. You'll be in on the ground-floor, gentlemen. You'll be the big time," Mister Big said, heading back out into the alleyway. The Enforcers followed.

"Oh yeah? Big time hunh?" Hammer Harrison leaned past Dan as they walked, a smirk curling up the edges of his mouth. Dan shoved him backwards.

"Quiet, Willy. The grown-ups are talking."

"Hey, fuck you, Dan! I-" Harrison's face grew red and clashed his knuckle guards together. Ox's big hand closed on the younger man's shoulder and held him back. Montana tapped Harrison on the nose with his lasso.

"Settle down, Will. Please."

"If you're finished, gentlemen. We have business to discuss."

"The only thing to discuss is who the hell you are, mister!" Dan snapped. "Foswell is dead and buried. Killed by the goddamn Kingpin."

"Did I say I was this...Foswell, was it? No I'm not him. But I am Mister Big. And you'd do well to listen to me, little man. After all, the Enforcers need their Mister Big don't they?"

"Not anymore we don't."

"I beg to differ." Mister Big's hand dove inside his coat with rattlesnake speed and came out with a wicked looking little automatic. Dan ducked as Mister Big fired. A thug from the meth lab they had just left stumbled back into the lab, a bullet in his skull, the gun in his hand going off several times as he fell backwards through the doorway.

The explosion rocked the street, knocking the Enforcers to the ground. Luckily the building was sturdy enough to contain the brunt of the explosion, though crackling flames licked out of the blackened doorway reminding them of what could have happened. Montana looked up from beneath the brim of his squashed Stetson and glanced at Dan.

"Maybe we need to give this here gentleman a listen-to, Dan."

"Yeah," Dan spat dirt and ash from his mouth. "Yeah. I suppose we do."

"Hammerhead," Mister Big said. They sat inside a stretch-limo with purple tinted windows and bulletproof plates hidden behind the upholstery. It was parked across the street from the tenements the meth lab had been in and which were now engulfed in flames that licked hungrily at the sky. People were crowding the sidewalk and street, waiting for the fire trucks to arrive. Mister Big had the window rolled down and was smoking. Ox and the others were crowded opposite him, watching him warily.

"Hammerhead?" Dan looked around at the other Enforcers, their faces lit up by the glow of the flames outside. "Yeah, we know Hammerhead."

"Who doesn't know Hammerhead?" Montana lit a cigarette off the lighter Mister Big proffered him and blew out a mushroom shaped puff of smoke out the open window. "But what's he got to do with us?"

"Mister Hammerhead is in the early stages of a war. With a gentleman named the Rose. Perhaps you've heard of him as well?"

"Yeah. Asshole in a purple mask and a white suit. So?"

"The Rose has decided to move in on Hammerhead's territory for what looks like an attempt to unify the city's "legitimate business." He'll move on eventually to the other major players-Tombstone. Fisk. Even my own small business."

"Again, so?" Dan said, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"Mister Hammerhead wants to consolidate his forces before this war spills over into the streets. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure as they say. In that interest, he wants to hire you."

"Really. Why?" Dan said, eyes narrowed. "We ain't exactly the cream of the crop these days, 'Big'."

"Shit, Dan, talk us down why don'tcha?" Harrison grunted. Marston smacked Harrison on the side of the head with one long arm.

"Ssshut it, Willy. Dan's right. We ain't exactly the best and the brightest."

"Never were," Montana said, tipping his Stetson low over his eyes as he squirmed into a more comfortable position in the seat. "Never was, never will be."

"Pessimism is unattractive in you gentlemen."

"I didn't think you were here for a date," Dan said with a sneer. "Get to the point fancypants."

"As I said, Mister Hammerhead wishes to hire you gentlemen. And it is precisely because of your...status, that he wishes to do so. Mister Hammerhead is uncomfortable with the costumed element. Especially those on our side of the fence as it were. He is a very traditional man, Mister Hammerhead."

"So what you're saying is that despite being a freak himself, Hammerhead don't like to hire other freaks," Dan snorted. Mister Big inclined his head.

"If you wish to put it in such a manner then yes."

"So what's he doing hiring you then?"

"I assure you my mask is for personal reasons." Big's gloved fingers briefly touched his mask before jerking away. "I have a skin ailment, not a desire to play dress-up."

"Okay. Say we buy that. Hell, say we buy all of this...what does Hammerhead want us for?"

"He wants you to deliver a message for him."

"Oh you gotta be kidding me!" Harrison sputtered as they watched the limo drive off silently. Montana fanned himself with his hat and watched the buildings burn across the street. The blaze had spread. The whole block was going up.

"Whole passel of folks going to be homeless tonight," he said to no one in particular. Harrison whirled on him.

"What the hell has that got to do with anything?"

"Just thought it was worth mentioning."

"Quiet," Dan said. He sat on the sidewalk, hands hanging limply between his knees. He stared at the receding lights of the limo, cigarette clamped between his thin lips. "Just...quiet."

It wasn't a bad deal as far as things went. No intricate ploys, no double plays. Just straight head-busting. Then a paycheck. Once upon a time it had been his favorite type of job. Now...now it just sounded like a hospital stay in the making. What would Sheila say? He sighed as he thought about her. Thirty-two and a professional stripper. She still looked good swinging from a pole by her thighs and had hair like molten gold. Long as she kept it dyed anyway. She wanted done. She was studying to be a nurse. Wanted to go away. Go to the suburbs somewhere. Dan did too.

No. No, he didn't. Not really.

He wanted to matter. He wanted to put his loafer up the Kingpin's fat ass and edge-chop Osborn in the throat. He wanted to rip that garish mask off of Spider-Man's face and stuff it up his cocky ass. He wanted to do a lot of things. But he wasn't going to. Because they didn't matter, none of them, and they hadn't for a damn decade.

Unless you were a costume, or the man behind the costumes, you didn't mean jack.

"Dan. We can't do this," Montana said, kneading the brim of his hat with his scarred fingers. "I mean-Jesus."

"Quiet, Jackie. I'm thinking."

"What do you got to think about, Dan?" Harrison said, clashing his gauntlets. "I mean-yeah-it'll be a bitch, but goddamn if we're good at anything its busting heads right?"

"Getting our own busted more like," Snake hissed. "I can't believe you wanna do this, kid!"

"Quiet!" Dan looked up with a snarl. The others stared at him, shocked. It wasn't like Dan never got angry. He did. Often. At stupid things. But this was the first time he'd ever been this angry. His eyes were like twin black marbles in his tan face, glowing with an unhealthy light. "Every time. Every goddamn time. We get a break, and you simple fucks debate it to death."

"Dan, hate to spoil that rant you're building up to there but weren't you the one saying you wanted to quit not twenty minutes ago?" Montana said smoothly, fitting his hat on his head. "I mean I'm up for a dance as much as the next prom queen, but this..."

"I am tired. I'm tired of not making a difference. Of not getting any goddamn respect. Of getting the crap beaten out of us by nuts in capes!" Dan stood smoothly, pulling at the crease in his pants. "I want out. I want done. But if I'm going out, I'm damn well going out in style!" He jabbed a finger at the others. "And that's what that tinface fuck was offering us. A chance to go out in style. We make our names and then we're done."

"Yeah but-"

"No buts." Dan looked around at them. His friends. Partners. "We do this together or not at all."

"I'm in," Harrison said. Montana shrugged.

"Yeah, why not? Sylvester?"

"We're gonna die."

"That a yes?"

"...yeah."

"Ox?"

"I'm hungry. Can we go for pancakes?"

"Just take that as a yes or we'll be here all day," Harrison said. Dan shook his head.

"Good enough. Let's go.”

"Now?"

"Why wait? Ain't like its gonna get any easier," Dan said, hands shoved in his pockets as he began to walk down the street, away from the raging flames. "Besides, the place is only a few blocks away."

In the limo, Mister Big answered the buzzing cellphone in his hand.

"Will they do it?" The voice was modulated, hidden behind a scrambler. Mister Big nodded, then sighed when he remembered his employer couldn't see him. Or could he? He wouldn't put it past the man to put cameras in his vehicle somewhere. Paranoid ass.

"Of course. They've made a profession out of reaching for the brass ring. Though I still don't understand why-"

"You don't have to."

"Yes, sir. I'll be standing by of course."

"Of course." The line went dead and Mister Big stared at the cellphone in his hand for a moment before putting it away. Condescending bastard. There were times he regretted throwing his lot in with his current employer. Then again, it beat being eaten alive when the war that was brewing finally exploded. The little fish would get eaten by the bigger fish until the bigger fish turned on each other. The question was, when would the biggest fish in the bowl get involved?

Fisk was keeping his own council, sitting in his ivory tower. Of course, considering that the meth labs the so-called Enforcers had been raiding all belonged to Fisk, it wouldn't be long. The poor idiots had no idea they'd just incurred the wrath of Wilson Fisk, the Kingpin of Crime. Or would incur that wrath just as soon as Big dropped Fisk an anonymous call. And that wasn't the only call he had to make. Those labs had been sitting in tenements owned by Tombstone. A rare concurrence of interests and one Mister Big fully intended to exploit.

After all, who was to say that the Enforcers hadn't been hired by Tombstone to raid the Kingpin's labs for a bit of extra 'rent'?

Or that Kingpin had decided to cut his losses and drive Tombstone out of business by removing a significant source of Tombstone's capital by having the Enforcers burn down the building?

The sooner Fisk and Tombstone were drawn in to the war the better, despite his employer's thoughts to the contrary. The better for Mister Big anyway.

And in the end, he intended to be the only man standing.

The bar didn't have a name. It was simply the No-Name Bar. Or the Bar with No Name if you were feeling fancy.

It catered to an exclusive clientele nonetheless. Big names. Bright costumes. It was their place. Their resort. Home away from home where they didn't have to worry about the authorities or the vigilantes or even each other. Most of the time anyway. There were some biggest and brightest in attendance tonight. They'd been called out, asked to meet a man here about employment opportunities. Everyone knew there was a war brewing, and if there was one thing mercenaries, costumed or not, looked forward to it was a war.

Dan stepped through the door, the other Enforcers behind him. They spread out silently. Montana and Snake to the left, Hammer and Ox to the right. Conversation ceased when Ox's big knuckles cracked loudly, like gunshots going off. They'd never been allowed in here before. Not for very long.

They weren't costumes after all. Weren't big names.

Dan felt a smirk tugging at his face. Payback was a bitch. He stepped forward.

"Ladies and gentlemen. Some of you may know us. Others don't. We're here to fix that. And deliver a message on behalf of Hammerhead."

"Yeah? What's that, Brito?" The accent was Australian and cocky. Dan looked around, fixing his gaze on the gaudy purple and blue costumed form of the criminal known as Boomerang. "Deliver the message and get out. You're wasting the air."

Dan closed his eyes and took a breath. Muted laughter filled the room. Walking jokes. That's all they were. Just punks in threadbare suits. Whether he was talking about the patrons of the No-Name or the Enforcers themselves, he didn't know. It didn't matter anyway.

Now or never. Go out with a bang baby, Sheila's voice whispered in his ear. Had he told her he loved her today?

"Well, Brito? Why are you and the wastes of space here?" Boomerang said loudly, grinning at them, the light glinting off the metal boomerangs attached to his suit. "Get on with it shrimp."

The gun appeared in Fancy Dan's hand like magic. An old .38, electrical tape on the handle and a bullet in the chamber. It barked loudly and the back of Boomerang's skull splattered against the wall behind the bar and he toppled to the floor, a neat hole drilled between his eyes.

"Hammerhead says stay out of the war." Dan said.

And with that shot, the war began...

TO BE CONTINUED

Next Issue: The Battle for the Bar With No Name! And even as the Enforcers live up to their name, other eyes are watching them. Wilson Fisk, the Kingpin, is upset with the boys for destroying his meth lab. Tombstone is upset with them for burning down his slums. And both intend to get even in their own inimitable fashion. Be here in thirty for 'DOWN WE GO'!