The Marvelous adventures of Frank and Lester: Shopping

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Comiccrazeraze

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#1  Edited By Comiccrazeraze

(Sorry for how short this is you guys.)

Walmart: Manhattan, New York

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"White or wheat bread?" Frank asked Lester. With no answer Frank turned around and saw that Lester had already disappered, going off to do God knows what. "Ah screw it,"Frank thought throwing both of the breads into the shopping cart. Taking a look at the shopping list Lester wrote he saw: Bread, lunch meat, alcohol, more alcohol and sweedish fish. The last item circled, highlighted, underlined and had directional arrows pointing at it. Frank shook his head, leave it to Lester to shop like a drunk twelve year old.... Though alcohol did sound pretty good right now, he needed to feel that burn down his throat. Pushing the cart down the alchohol aisle. He perused the wide selection of cheap alchohol's. "Crap," he thought putting back a bottle, "Crap with a cool labeling." He saw six men approach him from his left as two other stood at the right end of the aisle.

"You castle?" One asked. Frank went on looking at the alchohol.

"Whose asking?" his gaze never shifting, he moved faster than the man could draw his weapon. Smashing the bottle of whiskey over his head. "Damn," he thought grabbing the man's collar with both hands and yanking him up. The once dazed man's body shook and jumped, taking bullet after bullet as Frank's improvised shield, "That was a good bottle." He pulled his own Colt .45 with a free hand as he held the man with the other and shot at the two men down the aisle. Managing to hit one in the chest, sending him back into the frozen meat holder behind him. The other took cover, Frank's mind went into overdrive as he turned with the now useless body and tossed him at his former comrade's. Hitting three of the men, Frank dropped to his knee, pulling his other Colt .45 he dropped the last standing ones, two bullets for each of them. One in the head and one in the chest. Before the others could understand what was happening to their friend's Frank had already put a round in each of them. "More statistics in a useless struggle." Each man was in his early twentie's and by their color's no doubt local street thugs sent by some random goon boss to kill Frank and Lester.

As luck would have it, gunshots weren't quite and the store was in utter chaos from the firefight. People abandoning their things and running around like chicken's with their heads cut off. Frank only tried to stay focus as he pointed his Colt's back down the aisle, in case the last goon decided to get bold and show himself. Frank could only smile in glee as he heard distant footsteps, falling to the ground and aiming backwards, he laid himself flat and shot into the thug's ankle, taking a small chunk out of it.

Frank stood and wiped off some of the spilled alcohol, walking up to the screaming and sobbing gangster.

"HEY!! FRANKY!!!" He heard Lester shout over the communicator. Frank pushed the small device in his ear kicking the thug once,

"What is it Lester?"

"Uh I got jumped, ambushed, potential drop the soap moment over this way. Five goons. I got five different bodies now, um come back ten four blue one ten eleven, sitxy two...pineapple...green,"

"Lester." Frank knew he would continue if nothing was said. "I'm about to give on of these goon's the shakedown be on the lookout for local authorities."

"Hodger Dodger Mr.Rogers." Frank grabbed the mobster by the scruff of his green and blue shirt and pulled him down the aisle.

A couple of minutes later in the fruit aisle.

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"Wake up." Frank said flicking the man on his nose. The thug woke with a start, trying to fight against the cuffs Frank had put on him. "Jimbo Legree. Twenty one as of yesterday. Organ donor and in dire need of a new ankle. Sit still." Frank said grabbing the man's open wound making him cringe and cry out in pain. "Yes yes I know it hurts... Now who sent you? Hmmm?" The man was silent, Frank shook his head, "Not the right answer." Standing and grabbing an object he unscrewed the top of the container, "Ya know they say don't throw salt in old wounds. Lets see what happens when you add lemon." Frank said pouring a bit in the open ankle wound. A stream of obscenities and sobbing later. "So who?" The man shook his head no, Frank sighed and stood again grabbing the packet of table salt. "Remember what they said?" The man's eyes widened but his mouth stayed shut. Frank applied salt to the wound making the man shout and sob even louder his words a jumbled mess. "Say again." The man heaved in great gobs of air and tried again,

"N....New D...Don in t...t...town."

"Give me a name."

"Le...." The goon fell over a bullet lodged in his forehead.

"Stand up. Nice and slow or I swear you will be next," A rough male voice said. Frank hung his Colts on his thumbs and raised his hands. An immense pain shot through his head and he blacked out.

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"Frank you there? FRANK!?" The attacker heard the yelling and took the tiny communicator out of Castle's ear.

"If this is the Bullseye. Meet me in Times Square if you want your buddy to live through the next couple of hours."

"I swear I will..." Lester started only to have the man tear the communicator out of his ear and crush it.

Lester ran over to the general area he thought Frank was, lucky enough to stumble upon a dead goon with a bullet logged in his head. "Not Frank's work." Bullseye looked around for some sign and found only a skull with two bones crossed behind them with the note,

"Don't be late."

To be continued!!

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Guardiandevil83

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I like this. Let's see how Bullseye handles himself against Brock. I never saw their fight in the eighties, so thanks for the chance. Lol

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Comiccrazeraze

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