The Marvel Knights Group presents: The Enforcers #6

It was a slow motion topple, accomplished in sections. ‘Hammer’ Harrison folded up at the knees and collapsed, blood squirming through his fingers as he tried to staunch the flow from the wound in his throat. He fell onto all fours, one hand holding his neck, the other keeping him from falling on his face. The only sound was a gurgle, a harsh sound ratcheting from his crimson-stained mouth.

Seconds. It had only taken seconds.

Bullseye crouched in the window, one hand holding it open, the other sliding several thin strips of sharpened waste-steel out of his harness.

“One down. Four to go. Bang-diddly,” he said, licking his lips. “Place your odds, babies.”

“You-you-” Ox grunted, small eyes blinking as he looked back and forth between his partner and the assassin. He snapped forward, moving faster than should have been possible. He shoved Montana and Marston aside and thundered towards the window, sausage fingers stretching to grab the black-clad man.

Bullseye’s eyes widened and he threw himself backwards out the window, hurling his metal slivers as he went. They sank into Ox’s forearms and shoulder, but the big man didn’t stop as he slammed into and through the wall, causing it to explode outward in a shower of dust, brick and wood. Ox had a half-second to realize that Bullseye was crouched on the fire-escape above the window before he fell towards the street below, lost in a cloud of debris.

Bullseye swung back through the opening Ox had created, a wild grin on his face. “Next?”

“Jackie-” Marston began. Montana cut him off with a raised hand.

“Not now, Sly. You want a fight, nut job? We’ll give you one.” He raised his lariat, stretching the rope taut between his gloved hands.

“Please, I didn’t come for a fight. Just a massacre. That’s all you losers are good for…”

“You sonnuva-” Montana stepped forward. Marston had squatted beside Harrison and was looking down at him in horror. Harrison had collapsed onto his back and was grunting unintelligibly, one hand wrapped in the front of Marston’s coat.

“Jackie!”

“Bit busy here, Sly!” Montana said, never taking his eyes off of Bullseye.

“He’s dying!”

“Shame, isn’t it?” Bullseye said. He pulled a handful of ball bearings out of his belt and rolled them between his fingers. “You’re next of course.”

“Dan? What the hell was that?” Sheila said, as the apartment shook. Dan looked towards the door. Voices. Montana. Marston. And one other…his eyes widened as he recognized it.

Snart. Bullseye.

“Oh, god.” He whirled back towards Sheila and shoved her towards the floor. “Quick, get under the bed!”

“What? Why?” Sheila protested, batting his hand away. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing! Get under the bed! And keep quiet!” Dan shoved her down and knelt beside the bed. With a jerk of his arm he pulled a battered footlocker out from under it and gestured for Sheila to crawl under.

“What the hell is in that case, Dan?” Sheila ignored his gentle nudge and slammed a hand on the case. Dan said nothing.

“It’s guns, isn’t it? You promised me no guns-”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Dan said calmly. The lassitude was settling over him again. That out of body calmness that made everything seem to move so slowly. “Later.”

There wasn’t going to be a later. Bullseye didn’t let people have laters. Once he was on your tail, you were dead. They were going to die. All of them.

The Kingpin. It had to be him. Nobody else used Snart. Nobody else trusted him. Damn it! How had they pissed off the Kingpin? First Hammerhead, now Fisk. They had been trying so hard to stay under the radar…at least until the bar thing yesterday. And the street-fight outside of Hammerhead’s.

Dan flipped open the case and stared down at the guns inside. Moving quickly, he stuffed a Beretta and a worn down .45 into his belt and hefted an AR-15. Stuffing several clips into his coat pocket, he stood and looked at Sheila.

“Sheila, I-” He licked his lips and closed his eyes. “Just get under the bed please.”

“Danny-”

“Under the bed. Don’t come out for nothing. And nobody.” Dan turned away and kicked the door open, rifle raised.

On the other side, Bullseye watched the door swing open out of the corner of his eye and lashed out with a foot, kicking it closed. A gun went off and bullets ripped through the door as he moved smoothly under Montana’s fist as it looped towards his head.

“Have to be quicker than that, Price,” he said as he planted a fist in Montana’s belly. He stood over him and grinned. “Of course, considering what my adamantium plated skull would have done to your hand, I probably did you a favor.”

“You-huhk-you all heart.” Montana spat, kneeling on the ground. Bullseye drove a knee into his face, knocking him backwards. His hat fluttered down over his face.

“I know. I’m like Ghandi. Aren’t I, Marston?”

Bullseye whirled as Marston leapt towards him from behind. Ball bearings flew from his hand, striking Marston in his face and chest. He fell heavily and didn’t move. The assassin turned back towards the door he had kicked shut.

“That you in there, Brito? Come on out. I just want to chat.”

Dan lay flat on his back, nose busted and his eyes closed. Out like a light. Sheila crouched beside him, her thoughts flashing like quicksilver. Someone was out there. Someone dangerous. And tearing up her-their-place by the sound of it.

“That you in there, Brito? Come on out. I just want to chat.”

She scooped up the AR-15 and aimed it towards the door.

“Chat this.”

The recoil knocked her on her ass as the door turned to splinters. Bullseye stumbled backwards as the hail of shots plucked at him. He stumbled, blinded by wood dust, splinters and rain of blood running down over his eyes. Cursing, he clawed at his face, tripping over Marston’s unconscious form and staggering backwards towards the hole in the wall. He stopped at the edge, choking and sneezing, trying to clear his vision.

Harrison’s eyes flashed open as the echoes of the AR-15 faded. His thoughts were a mess, everything was blurring at the edges and he felt wrung dry. Empty. He heaved himself up, gauntlets scraping the floor. He tasted copper and bile and his vision blurred. He blinked, trying to focus. Bullseye. Bullseye had killed him. He could feel the metal in his neck, grating against the insides of his throat. Montana on the floor. Sly too. Dead? Probably. All dead.

Damn costume had killed them. Just like Dan said.

Harrison raised his fists and fell into a stumbling charge, leaving a trail of life in his wake.

Fucking costumes. It was always them. Always fucking everything up. Not this time.

Bullseye cleared his eyes just as Hammer Harrison slammed into him at full speed and sent both of them sailing out of the window and towards the street below.

Ox awoke to the sound of a car roof crumpling under the impact of two bodies. The big man grunted and levered himself up off the pavement. Ronald Bloch had good days and bad days. Some days were better than others, clearer. Other days, his friends had to lead him around by the head.

His mother said it was because he’d been hit one too many times. That was why he was stupid. That was why his friends had to look out for him.

But sometimes, sometimes he had to look out for them.

When Bullseye had shown up, he’d tried but he’d been too slow. Too stupid. He was always too slow and too stupid.

He stumbled towards the car, towards the tangle of bodies on top of it. Harrison wasn’t breathing. He was just laying there. Bloody and still and his face all mashed up. Ox grunted and knuckled a tear out of one eye.

His friend was dead. Because Ox was too stupid to save him. His dopey features twisted into anger and he grabbed the black clad form of Bullseye and yanked him off of the car with a jerk. Bullseye groaned and his eyes opened.

“What-”

“Dan says you got a metal skull. I put a rat in a can once and I shook it and the rat got squished. Bet your brain will get squished if I shake you,” Ox said slowly. Ponderously. Bullseye screamed as Ox swung him up and then brought him down, face first, into the pavement. The street cracked. Ox hauled Bullseye’s jittering body and swung him down again. And again.

And again.

Until Bullseye stopped moving. Ox dropped him with a growl of disgust. He raised one big foot and stomped down, driving Bullseye’s head into the pavement. Then he turned back to the car and Harrison’s body. Gently, tenderly, he scooped him up.

“I’m sorry, Willy. I’m sorry.” Ox mumbled over and over again as he sat down heavily on the sidewalk, rocking Harrison’s body tenderly.

“I’m sorry.”

“Dan! Dan! Wake up!” Sheila said, straddling Dan’s chest and shaking him by the lapels. “Wake up damn it! I just shot a guy!”

“I-you-what?” Dan’s eyes fluttered. “What?”

“I just shot what’s-his-face. We have got to get out of here! My neighbors called the cops!”

“Danny, what the hell-” Montana leaned weakly against the doorway. “Shit. Fucker got you too.”

“Bullseye! Where’s Bullseye?” Dan sat upright, knocking Sheila off of him.

“I shot him,” Sheila said. “I can’t believe I shot him. Shit!”

“You did what?”

“Forget him, Dan. Sly’s hurt bad.” Montana said, hauling Dan and Sheila to their feet. Dan pulled Sheila close.

“Where’s Ox? And Harrison?”

Montana didn’t answer. Dan grabbed him by his bolo tie, yanking him closer.

“Where are they, Jackie?”

“Downstairs.”

Montana pulled himself away from Dan and stooped to pull Marston up. “We got to go Dan. Find some place to lay low. Maybe one of Osborne’s old hide-outs. I remember where a few of them are. Might have some medical equipment we can use.”

“Damn it. I-” Dan rubbed his face tiredly. “We can’t just-”

“Goddamnit, Brito! That was fucking Bullseye! You know what that means?” Montana snarled.

“Fisk.”

“That’s right. Fisk. Every costume in the city is on our tail, Dan. And now Hammerhead and Fisk too. We are dead men walking unless we get out of here.”

“You saying this is my fault, Jack?”

“You saying it’s not, Dan?” Montana glared at his partner. “Will is dead, Dan. Ox is down there rocking him like a goddamn baby, but he’s dead. And Sly might be joining him soon enough. Because of you. Because you just had to get that final goddamn score!”

“This ain’t my fault! This-”

“Shut the hell up, Danny. Just shut the fuck up.”

Sheila pushed between them, her face pale with shock. “We have to get Sly to a hospital.”

“Might as well turn him over to the cops. I ain’t doing that.” Montana said harshly. He didn’t look at either of them, instead down at Marston in his arms. Blood ran down Marston’s face where it wasn’t purpling from Bullseye’s attack. “I ain’t doing that.”

“I know where we can go.” Sheila said. She looked at both men. “We have to find a car.”

“Got the one we came in downstairs.” Dan said, staring out through the hole in the wall. It was night again. The city was shining Paradise, every window sparkling like a star through the rain that was beginning to fall. He turned slightly. “Sheila, help Jack get Sly downstairs. I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Dan, what are you-”

“Just go.”

They left, supporting Marston between them. Dan watched them go, then went back into the bedroom. He tossed the AR-15 back in the foot locker and latched it shut. Then, with a grunt, he hefted it. Guns and other assorted weapons rattled as Dan set it on his shoulder and headed awkwardly for the door.

Montana was right.

This was his fault. All of it.

Out on the street, Marston had regained consciousness.

“Jacks-I-where am I?” he slurred, blinking rapidly. “What happened?”

“Got hit, Sly. Bastard hit us too quick.” Montana said. He looked at Sheila. “Dan’s girl took care of him though.”

“I got a name, cowboy.”

“Me too. What a coincidence.” Montana grinned. The smile faded as he caught sight of Ox. “Shit. Can you get Sly into the car?”

“Yeah. I-” Sheila swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” Montana took off his hat and held it down by his leg as he walked slowly towards Ox. He flinched as he saw what was left of Bullseye ground into the pavement. He couldn’t tell whether the assassin was breathing or not. He didn’t care either.

“Ox? Ray?” he said softly. Ox lumbered to his feet and turned, tear-stained face twisted in an expression of grief.

“I’m sorry, Jackie. I’m sorry. I’m so stupid. I’m sorry. I wasn’t fast enough and I’m stupid and-and…” Ox hung his head and pulled Harrison’s body closer. “I didn’t mean for him to get hurt. I’m sorry.”

“It-it’s okay big fella.” Montana swallowed and closed his eyes. He touched Harrison on the face. Already going cold. “It’s okay. We gotta go though. You gotta put Will down and we gotta go.”

“Noooo.” Ox whined, shifting, pulling Harrison’s body away. “No I’m not gonna leave him. He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay.”

“Ox-”

“No!” Ox snarled. Montana stepped back, noticing the blood on the big man’s arms and foot for the first time. Bullseye’s blood.

“Ray,” Dan said. He placed the locker gently on the ground and patted Ox on the arm. “Get in the car with Montana. Sheila is gonna take you to a place where you can get Will some help, okay? But you got to move quick. Cops are on their way, okay.”

“Okay, Dan. Okay. We’ll help him. I’m sorry, Dan.”

“Don’t worry big man. Just keep my girl safe, okay?”

“Okay, Dan. I’ll keep them all safe. I’ll be faster.” Ox lumbered towards the car, holding Harrison close. Montana looked at Dan.

“Kid’s dead.”

“I know. We ain’t leaving him behind though.” Dan hefted the footlocker again. “Keep your heads low. Get out of town if you have to.”

“Where you going?”

Dan squatted and reached into the hole where Bullseye’s head had been. With a grunt he pulled up the remains of the killer’s mask. He held it up and looked at it. Then he looked at Montana.

“I’m gonna pay a visit to a fat man.”

TO BE CONTINUED

Next Issue: Fancy Dan vs. everything the Kingpin can throw at him! The Rose makes his first move! Plus, the Night-Nurse makes her first MK appearance! Be here in thirty for ‘BLOOD AND THE RELATIVE THICKNESS THEREOF’!