The Marvel Knights Group presents: The Enforcers #3

"Ho-ly shit."

Montana hadn't realized he'd spoken until the words settled like feathers on the silence that lay heavy over the bar. He looked around, eyes narrowed. Everyone was quiet, staring at the battered little gun in Danny-boy's hand and the neat little hole between Boomerang's eyes. He turned slightly as he heard the crackling hum of an energy buildup. The Beetle stepped away from the bar, settling his golden-eyed helmet into place, one purple gauntlet hissing with the energies contained within.

"You little-"His voice was all modulated whine. No inflection. No emotion. But Montana could hear the hate there. He spun, tossing his lariat from the hip. The weighted end settled around the armored criminal's gauntlet and Montana yanked with all his might, sinking to his knees. The Beetle squawked as he was suddenly pulled off balance and sent stumbling towards the Enforcers.

"Ox!" Montana shouted. Ox turned swiftly, his big fist lashing out and connecting with the Beetle's helmet. Glass shattered and metal bent as the Beetle was sent flying backwards at full-speed, his helmet crumpled to a gaudy ruin.

In the days, months, years to come, that was the moment that everyone involved would refer to as the start of the fight. Not Boomerang's death. The instant Ox's fist connected with the Beetle's helmet was the instant that every costume in the bar knew the rules had changed.

Every dog has his day.

He just has to earn it.

A bullwhip snapped with an electric sizzle as Blacklash pushed back from a table and flicked a wrist, his purple cloak rustling. "They killed Fred! Bastards!" His lash cut a groove in Fancy Dan's cheek even as Harrison pivoted, his armored fist sinking into the mercenary's gut with a sound like a lead pipe hitting a side of meat. Dan stood still, one hand reaching up to touch his cheek. He stared at the blood on his fingertip.

It hurt.

"Dan! Snap out of it!" Montana yelped.

Snake flipped over the bar as a fist punched through the air where he'd been standing.

"Stand still, worm!" the Rhino bellowed. Marston spun on the bar, spilled alcohol sloshing as he brought a foot across the brute's jutting jaw.

"Somebody help me!" Marston screamed. Ox roared and brought both his fists down on the criminal's head. The Rhino whirled and the two goliaths began to trade blows. Marston leapt off the bar as a flaming pumpkin exploded against it, showering the room with burning fragments.

Harrison hit Blacklash again, metal coated knuckles knocking teeth and blood onto the table. A steel whip recoiled and cracked and Harrison's hat fluttered away from his head in two pieces, his scalp cut open clean. Blood drizzled down his features as he reeled back, clawing at his face.

Montana swung his lariat and roped the Rhino's horn. He was jerked off his feet for his trouble and slung around the room, holding on for dear life.

Through it all, Dan stood, blood drying on his face and fingers. He stared at Boomerang. Had he really killed him? He had, hadn't he?

"You killed him, you bastard."

Dan turned slowly, as if in a dream. Jack O' Lantern crouched on his flying platform, grinning pumpkin mask alight with eldritch fire. "You killed him." Jack said again, voice a throaty cackle. "Now I'm going to kill you."

"I'm gonna kill them. All of 'em." The albino crimelord known as Tombstone cracked his knuckles. It sounded like a gunshot in the confines of the dingy office. "Stupid punks."

"To be fair, boss, they were going after the meth lab you let the Kingpin set up in the basement," a skinny man in a tracksuit spoke up, peering over his sunglasses at his employer. Tombstone nodded then backhanded the speaker viciously. The unfortunate's neck snapped like twig and his body twisted and flopped to the floor. The other thugs in the room shifted nervously. When Tombstone was in a mood, everybody suffered.

"Anybody else got a comment?" Tomstone looked around, his too-sharp teeth glinting in the light from the weak light bulb hanging from the ceiling. "No? Good. To answer your question, Frankie..." Tombstone looked at the dead man. "Hunh. Whoops. Anyway, it doesn't matter that they hit the Kingpin. Their blowback hit me. For that they gotta pay." Tombstone shoved his hands in his pockets and looked up.

"Get the Russian."

He'd killed him.

Dan had killed before. But it had always been a heat of the moment thing. Unavoidable. Life or death stuff. Somebody else's life or his death. This had been different.

Boom.

One step on the road.

He could smell the air sizzling. He heard voices coming at him through wads of cotton and gallons of water, blurry moans, garbled and confusing. There was a shape rising up over him. Dan felt himself moving, sliding as Jack O' Lantern lifted a clawed finger and launched a bolt of energy at him. He sank to one knee and his gun came up, barking once.

Jack O' Lantern screamed as the tip of his finger burst in a spray of blood and circuitry. The mercenary slid off of the platform, Montana's lariat encircling his ghastly head. The cowboy tipped his hat.

"Glad to see you back with us, Dan. Seein' as how you got us into this an all."

"I'm fine. I'm fine. Fine." Dan shook his head, trying to clear it. "I killed him."

"Yeah. You damn well did." Montana snapped. "Thanks for the warning by the way."

"Sorry. Impulse." Dan shoved the gun back into his coat. "Had to be done."

"Not to my way of thinking."

"You in charge?"

"I was under the impression none of us was in charge."

"Think we can talk about this later?" Dan pivoted and his foot snapped out and caught a costume in the face. He had no clue who it was. Goldbug maybe, but who the hell knew these days. The costume stumbled back and Dan caught him under the chin with another kick, lifting him up and sending him crashing down. "Business first, argument later. Duck."

"Yeah, yeah." Montana ducked, his hat fluttering through the air as a fist punctured the space where his head had been. He flicked his wrist and a thin stiletto slid into his waiting palm. Montana whirled and drove the knife into the gut of the costume behind him. "Take that, ya bushwhacker!"

"Was that Bushwhacker?"

"No idea. I need a damn scorecard."

"Weren't you playing with the Rhino a minute ago?"

"Was that who that was? He and Ox took it outside. We gotta end this, Danny."

"Consider it ended. Get Sly and the kid and get outside." Dan vaulted over the bar as Montana picked up his hat and loped for the door. The bar was the picture of chaos. Costume fought costume. Everybody against everybody. More than a few grudges would get settled before the evening was out, but the message had been delivered. Dan ducked behind the bar as an energy blast shattered the bottles behind him.

At least he hoped it had been delivered. Too late to worry about it now regardless. He stuffed a cigarette in his mouth and sucked on it, unlit.

Dan grabbed a handful of bar rags and snatched a few bottles of liquor off the shelf under the bar. The good stuff, reserved for the high rollers. He opened them, stuffed the rags down inside them and fished his lighter out of his pocket.

Time to bring the house down.

Dan flicked the lighter to life, the bar rags catching easily and he rose to his feet, a bottle in each hand. The fighting ceased as all eyes turned towards him. Dan smiled grimly and lit his cigarette off of one of the bottles improvised wicks.

"To re-iterate, douchebags...Hammerhead says stay out of the war."

Dan hurled the bottles with all of his might.

The Bar With No Name was burning a few seconds later. Dan walked out of the building, hands in his pockets, as it gave out a groan and seemed to crumble beneath a giant fist. The other Enforcers were waiting on him across the street, eyes wide.

"Wrath of God, man." Harrison mumbled, shaking his head. "Jesus...just-Jesus."

"Burns quick." Marston nodded. "Works for me."

"First you shoot Myers, then you burn the whole damn place down?" Montana held his battered Stetson to his chest and stared at Dan. "What the hell's gotten into you, Brito?"

"I told you. I'm tired. Tired of being small change, tired of being a nobody. I ain't going out like that," Dan said calmly. Behind him, the fire hit the gas main and an explosion rocked the street. "We're going big-time. And this goddamn war is going to be the perfect ladder."

"You got it all figured out don't you?"

"As usual." Dan grinned. "Let's go get paid."

"Well?"

"Surprisingly effective."

Mister Big lowered the binoculars and placed them beside him on the seat of the limo. His other hand held his cell phone to his ear.

"More information please..."

"Yes, sir. They blew it up."

"Blew it u-survivors?"

"Looks like."

"Where are they?"

"Who? The survivors or-"

"The Enforcers, Big."

"Moving east. Towards Hammerhead's compound. Going to get their money most like. I wonder how they'll react when they learn Hammerhead didn't actually hire them?"

"Irrelevant. They are irrelevant. Move to phase two."

"Sir." Big snapped the cell phone closed and looked at it disgustedly. Idiot. So focused on his own plan he ignored opportunity when it came his way. The Enforcers had proven themselves remarkably adaptable, hence useful. If they survived the night. Big smiled beneath his mask. Useful, yes. It was serendipity really. Mister Big and the Enforcers back together again. But until then, he had other plans to follow through with. He stepped out of the limo and strode towards the burning bar, hands in his pockets, whistling jauntily.

A number of costumes were still gathered there. Not many, but enough. At least for his purposes.

Big walked into the midst of them. "Problem, gentlemen?"

"What's it to you, metal face?" the Rhino snarled, a massive fist raised. Big yawned.

"Nothing really. Just an opportunity in the making really. My employer was made privy to this unprovoked assault and has decided to offer his hand in friendship. The enemy of my enemy and all that." Big spread his arms. "Any takers?"

"Give us a name." the Rhino snorted.

"Hammerhead."

"We're here to see Hammerhead," Dan said into the callbox.

"A lot of people wanna see Mister Hammerhead. What's so special about you?" an electronically scrambled voice replied. Dan glanced at the others. He leaned back towards the box, his finger on the button.

"Well, seeing as we just tore up the Bar With No Name on his orders, I'd say we're pretty damn special."

"You what?!"

"I said we-"

The sound of multiple weapons being readied filled the air. The Enforcers turned as one to face a dozen armed men. Behind them, the door opened.

Hammerhead stepped out onto the street. He was a big man, broad, dressed in black pants and a wife-beater, a pair of suspenders over his shoulders and his face was flushed with anger.

"Now, one more time...you did what?"

TO BE CONTINUED

Next Issue: Another big fight! Things get worse! Be here in thirty for 'PISTOLEROS 1,2,3'!