Previous chapters in the spoiler box below
Underworld marched down 8th Avenue. At every cross street he looked right, down into Hell’s Kitchen hoping to spot the zebra, also known as Ammo, as he’d found out with some well placed phone calls. Jackie had time to ponder what he was going to do to him and was torn between bashing his head into a fire hydrant until water shot out his ears or pulling all his fingers off.
As he got to the Port Authority Bus Terminal he spotted his prey; just loitering around like a bad smell with several other badly dressed clowns. Jackie noted the security cameras before marching over.
“HEY!”
Ammo looked up at the yell and watched Jackie cross the street.
“Holy $#!+ it’s the Punisher!” yelped an underling as he reached for a pistol in his belt. Ammo caught his arm and cuffed him across the back of the head.
“The Punisher doesn’t yell “Hey!” you idiot,” Ammo said. “That is Underworld.”
A goon stepped to Jackie; who stopped and looked the man up and down. Jackie pulled his tablets from his pocket and gulped down a few.
“Think you better head back up town,” the goon snarled.
“Thinking isn’t your strong suit,” Jackie put a hand on him and moved him to the side, and continued walking. The goon reached out and grabbed Jackie’s coat collar to receive a spinning back fist followed by a big right hand knocking the goon flying. Jackie pointed towards Ammo and kept walking.
“You and me are gonna have a chat,” Jackie stated. “Actually more me hitting and you screaming for your life.”
“That so,” Ammo laughed. “Pretty public place.”
“I’m a bad guy idiot, what do I care?” Jackie drew a gun and did a no-look shot the blew the nearest camera away. The bullet then zipped around and took out the others in quick succession. Jackie then pointed the gun at Ammo. “Start talking.”
Ammo raised his hands as his crew scattered like cockroaches in the light.
“What do you want to know?”
Jackie stepped forward and smashed a fist into Ammo’s mouth, denting his pearly whites. “Where’s the fat man right now?”
**
Ivan, the head of the Tracksuit Draculas, looked the man in the trench coat and white face paint up and down. “You look like clown Bro.”
Kazimierz Kazimierczak just stared back at him, the silence and the eerie clown make-up spoke volumes. “I am.”
“You will kill this Jackie Bro for me yes, bro?”
“I will.”
“Good bro, good.”
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