S.H.I.E.L.D Agent Withers stood next to crime scene investigator as they surveyed the carnage in Harlem. Thirteen dead, several wounded, and all from supposedly two bullets.
“From what I can guess,” said Peter Ibrahim from beneath his white hazmat suit. “Is that the bullet is...magic.”
“Magic?” Withers’ brow furrowed.
“Or mutant powers. Or alien tech. No idea. But normal bullets don’t turn in mid air or chase after people like Supergoof told us?”
“Who?”
“That guy,” Peter pointed at the guy in the NFL uniform sitting in the back of the ambulance. “Anyway, we’ve got two adamantium bullets which we’ll send down to ballistics and get a report over to you asap but we’re pretty snowed under.”
“Thanks,” Withers headed to the ambulance and tapped his ear. “You get that Cheesecake?”
“Could you not broadcast my name over the airwaves, you idiot.”
“Did you just c…”
“Yeah an idiot! And I told you to lose the beard. Could be my guy, could be Tracer or even that girl from the X-Friends.”
“Tracer?”
“You should really look through the S.H.I.E.L.D database sometime.” Cheesecake scoffed through his earpiece. “Go talk to football freak and I’ll try to get in closer with you know who.”
**
Jackie hugged Sal with the usual pat down greeting noting the large bruise appearing on Sal’s neck. “Who?”
“Some zebra punk working for…,” Sal puffed his cheeks out and imitated a fat guy. “He says you didn’t do the job on fat head.”
“I did the job!” Jackie stated defiantly “Not my fault the rice guys fixed him back up.”
“I tried to tell him that but,” Sal pointed to his neck. “Well that’s how that turned out.”
“Should march on down to blubber town and explain it to him face to face.”
“Good luck with that!” Sal scoffed. “He’s got that crazy poison broad working for him now.”
“Like I care,” Jackie said. “So where is this zebra?”
“The Kitchen.”
“You okay?”
“I’m good, I’m good. Ain’t welcome back at Sugah’s for a while but I’m good.”
Jackie peeled off a few hundreds from his money clip and tossed it on the table. “Go buy some proper coffee.”
**
Jackie sat on the subway when he felt a presence nearby. Slowly he looked up and saw the woman.
“Cake of soap,” he said as he stood up. “You following me?”
“Tall, dark and rude,” she replied. “No I’m just catching the train. You following me?”
“You’re not my type.”
“I’m Cheesecake, I’m everyone’s type,” she purred. “Where you headed?”
Jackie shook his head. “You’re a cop.”
“Coming from the Punisher that’s a big call,” Cheesecake replied with a smile. Jackie threw an arm over her shoulder and forcibly ushered her towards the doors. “Let go of m…”
“Shut up or I’ll put you THROUGH doors!” Jackie seethed through his teeth. “You bump into me again and I’ll just shoot you in the face.”
“Take your hands off me or I’ll stab you in the heart!” Cheesecake whispered back. The train squealed as it approached 116th St station. Jackie in his weird embrace with Cheesecake edged towards the door.
“My stop,” Jackie said as he pushed her back into the train. She stumbled backwards as he pulled out his phone and took a photo of her. The doors closed as Cheesecake tried to exit. She knew she could easily pry the doors open but that would expose her fragile cover even further; all she could do was glare as the train pulled away.
**
“Just to clarify, you arrived on the scene to see the tracksuit guys hauling Mr Cottonmouth out of his apartment,” Withers read from his notepad. “They attacked you and then this, Punisher type guy, opened fire. You ran…”
“I ducked for cover!”
“Okay and the bullet followed you around like…magic.”
“Yes.”
“Was it the Punisher?” Withers asked.
“I’m not sure,” Superpro replied. “He was big, had sunglasses wearing all black. And he killed all those gangsters, nearly me too!”
Withers nodded as he made some more notes.
**
“What kind of Bro would do this to my bros?” asked Ivan, the head of the Tracksuit Draculas as he sat counting up packets of heroin. “I want this bro dead whoever he is, you get me bro?”
“Oh I get you…”
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