• I love hit men. No matter what ya do to ‘em, ya don’t feel bad.
    This particular cat was a chump-change hiree by th’ look of ‘im, an’ from th’ south side of th’ Bronx by th’ sound of ‘im. Now, for a normal, run-of-the-mill sputz, cat was fairly tough. But you don’t live as long as I have in the business I’m in without learning one thing: you’ve gotta be tougher’n anyone else.
    See, I work for a man. This man owns half a’ Manhattan, an’ almost as much of the mainland city. If you don’t already know who I’m talkin’ about, you’re doin’ all right.
    The scientific term for my occupation is “enforcer”, but I know what I am. I ain’t much more’n a trained gorilla. Boss tells me t’go “collect”, I know it means I gotta bash some sap’s skull in till he coughs up the money he don’t ‘ave. Later, Boss gives me my banana, be it a bonus on my paycheck, or a night visit from one of his female “associates”.
    ‘Least, that’s how I got my start. Six years enforcing, in addition to my work as a bouncer at the Three Kings, till th’ day the Yots busted in t’try an’ whack th’ Boss, an’ I took three bullets for him before his goons even got a hand on their guns. I still managed t’break the faces of three of those damn Slavs before my knees buckled from loss of blood. Boss showed up at the hospital t’let me know I’d been promoted, even covered my hospital bill.
    For those a’ you that don’t know, the Yots are an offshoot of th’ main Slavi-Russian mob. Guys had th’ name for a year before they learned that it sounded exactly like th’ English word for a large, fancy boat, an’ by that time the name had stuck.
    Anyways, soon’s I got outta the hospital, I became a bodyguard for th’ Boss. Been one for three years now, one of four. There’s me: big ugly mug; hard, angular face, muscle everywhere, th’ kinda guy you usually only see in movies. At seven-foot-two, I tower over the others, ‘cept Max, another meathead like me. Tall, muscular cat with one a’ those blonde, military flat-tops and a smooth scar running across ‘is forehead. Third guy, or gal, rather, is this jumpy little Asian named Shi. ‘Least, that’s what everyone calls ‘er. Kid knows somethin’ like three different kinds of martial arts an’ always walks around with one a’ those Japanese samurai swords at ‘er hip, some kinda quarterstaff on ‘er back, an’ at least twenty different small, pointy things that she c’n throw with insta-killing accuracy hidden in various locations on ‘er person. Damndest thing is, I seem Shi walk through a metal detector without setting th’ goddamn thing off.
    Last cat’s th’ worst of us. Looks kinda like Bruce Willis, only comes up to my chest, standing – no fault a’ his; he jus’ wasn’t born with th’ genes for height like I was – but he scares th’ pants off th’ rest of us. He’s crazy, an’ I don’t mean th’ kind a’ crazy where ya run around yellin’ an’ bitin’ people. He’s calm, always calm, the same when he’s got bullets buzzin’ past ‘is ears as when he has his morning cup of coffee – one cream, two sugars. No, this cat’s truly mad, the kind you can only see when ya look in ‘is eyes. An’ lemme tell ya, Fox has scary eyes. I’ve seen ‘im scare off hit men an’ muggers jus’ by lookin’ at ‘em. When they manage to hold it together enough to not s**t themselves an’ run, he pulls out a pistol in the amount a’ time that it takes us to blink, with a practiced motion that seems just as involuntary. I’ve never seen exactly where he keeps ‘is gun. He only ever wears a suit – the same dark blue suit every day, from what I can tell – an’ it’s always the same matte black Matherson 9mm, but I’ve still never seen where he pulls it from or where he returns it to.
    Max an’ Shi told me he’s ex-military, some special ops something-or-other, but he cracked an’ took off. All I know, is I’m goddamn glad I work with him.

    Ah, I guess I’m off subject. People tell me I ramble all th’ time, but I jus’ like t’make sure I get all th’ details in.
    Anyhow, musta been the end a’ my first month. We was in th’ Dungeon. That’s what we call th’ basement where we take people when we wanna mess ‘em up in privacy. Max’s fists were makin’ a dull, meaty sound as he repeatedly slammed ‘em into the wall. I almost yell at ‘im for it. He could break ‘is hand that way, an’ I don’t need ‘im to have any more t’ whine about than ‘e already does. Can’t really blame ‘im, though. He’s just angry. We’re all angry. I know that I, at least, share Max’s desire to just start pummeling someone, anyone.
    But instead we gotta sit here an’ wait. An’ it’s not so much the sittin’ an’ waitin’ that’s botherin’ us. It’s the fact that with us down here, Boss don’t ‘ave us watchin’ his back.
    Shi sits cross-legged on th’ ground, hands on her knees, perfectly still if ya don’t count her breathin’. Problem is, Shi never sits still. Little woman’s always movin’, so th’ fact that Shi’s sitting stock-still tells me Shi’s as agitated as Max.
    So we’ve been griping about how everything’s gone t' hell, how Boss is prob’ly gonna end up dead, but that’s not what’s bothering us th’ most. The thing that’s got us real nervous is Fox. He’s across the 10x10 room from me, just sittin’ on the edge of the desk that we usually use for interrogatin’ mooks that step wrong in th’ Boss’s territory. Just sittin’ there, calm as always, holdin’ his Matherson against ‘is right leg. An’ that’s th’ part that’s got us scared. Fox never pulls ‘is gun out ’less he means t’kill somebody. An’ even when I manage to make contact with those crazy eyes a’ his, I still can’t tell if I might be one of ‘em.
    Not a comforting thought. To try and get past th’ fear and frustration that have my heart pounding and my fists clenched, I go over the events that led us here in my mind. We owe our current situation to a man by name of Jack.
    Jack Small’s a professional thief. By that I don’t mean that he’s Ocean’s 11, steal-crazy-valuables-from-only-the-rich, I mean that not only is he willin’ t’take any job that involves theft – be it swiping a piece of art offa one a’ the mob bosses, or picking a credit card from the pocket of a Hollywood superstar without being seen – but also that he’ll get it done, without a doubt, no questions asked.
    Jack started out as a regular pickpocket. Only, cat was so good that not only would ‘e swipe your wallet, he’d take th’ money out, stick a Jack – as in the playing card – in its place, an’ put th’ wallet back in your pocket. After about a week, people findin’ these cards in their wallets would say they’d been Jacked. Swear t’God.
    Anyway, Boss had asked the four of us t’pick up a package. None of us knew what was in th’ package, but that’s generally how business runs. Turns out that th’ package was a huge chest. Very simple, not too much goldwork on the frame, but heavy as hell. Max an’ I both had t’carry it to the car, and I swear th’ thing sunk six inches when we stuck it in the trunk.
    Naturally, anythin’ that th’ Boss is interested in, his enemies want t’get a piece of as well.
    So as we get ready to hop back in th’ car, we spot no less than fifteen, maybe twenny guys swaggerin’ toward the warehouse we was pickin’ it up from; more’n half of ‘em got automatics, an’ the rest are carryin’ an assortment of shotguns an’ automatic pistols. Max and Shi slip to either side of th’ warehouse gate, pulling out their respective ranged weapons, while Max an’ I duck behind th’ trunk of the car. Thank God it’s one a’ those old, wide, steel-chassis Cadillacs, else Max an’ I both would never ‘ave fit behind it.
    So we’re sittin’ there, waiting for a whole lotta guns to come our way, when I get somethin’ of an idea. I wave a hand at Shi, and whisper to her. Shi gives me a look like I’m crazy, but Max gets the gist of my idea and urges her to cooperate. A final nod from Fox, an’ she gives in with a shrug of ‘er shoulders an’ a shake of ‘er head.
    Expectin’ t’ catch us off guard, th’ chumps outside freeze and take a couple extra seconds to raise their guns when they the blur of motion that is Shi jumping leaping feet-first through the open driver-side window of the Caddy. With a hand on th’ brake, she slaps the stick down inta neutral, then somehow curls up an’ flips through the space between the seats into the leg space in th’ back just as the Yots open fire.
    When we hear th’ shots, Max an’ I shove both of our shoulders against th’ trunk of the Caddy and push for all we’re worth. The steel frame of th’ car resists, but it’s no match for the combined strength a’ me an’ Max. We may not have a lot b’tween the ears, but we got plenty a’ other muscle everywhere else.
    The Yots are startin’ to freak out as this car seemingly drives itself at them. They concentrate all their fire on it, an’ I actually begin t’ worry about Shi inside. But right as they empty their clips, Shi explodes from th’ now-shattered windshield an’ flies at ‘em in a whirl of limbs and hair and shiny-sharp things that make them bleed. Fox uses the distraction to plug a couple ‘of ‘em before Max an’ I follow her example and burst out from behind the Caddy, bellowing as we charge at ‘em from both sides of th’ car like a couple a’ charging rhinos.,
    At least, that’s what I feel like as I lower my head an’ torso an’ plow into th’ nearest Yot, lifting him back off the ground as my forehead connects with his nose. Then my fists begin swingin’, an’ it’s all just a brawl after that.
    Somewhere in th’ fighting, Max takes a bullet to th’ shoulder. I barely notice, as I’ve got one Slav inna headlock an’ I’m fightin’ with another over his Kalashnikov. But Shi goes on a rampage, sweeping that sword around as if it were Death’s scythe remade.
    It ends pretty quick after that. I make sure th’ face of th’ Slav I’ve got locked is nice an’ purple before I let ‘im go, an’ I give ‘im a kick in th’ head just to be sure. Shi’s got Max propped up against th’ side of th’ car as I walk back, and she’s crouched down next to him with a first aid kit I assume Shi’s pulled outta th’ glove compartment. Max is gripin’ that he’s fine, then yelpin’ at her ministrations. I stop near them, looking across th’ top a’ th’ car at Fox, who’s starin’ at th’ trunk, a cross expression on ‘is face. He snaps ‘is fingers at me, an’ I obediently walk around to th’ back of th’ car and pop th’ trunk.
    There’s a loud BANG! tosses me on my a**, an’ I swear’s got my ears bleedin’. Everything’s a bright blur, but I can make out Fox on his feet with no visible injuries, his Matherson out and pointed at a car that was speeding away from us. By the way it swerved when he pulled the trigger, he’d hit the driver, but whoever else was inside was quick enough to grab the steerin’ wheel and keep the car from crashing. It slowed to deposit the driver’s body on th’ shoulder of th’ freeway, then sped off.
    We all just stood still for a moment, then collected ourselves as Fox made the call to report th’ bad news to th’ Boss.
    Now, while th’ four of us knew that it was Jack – it was totally his style, usin’ a brawl between two gangs t’ grab some merchandise he’s after – there was no proof t’ pin it on ‘im legally, and even th’ Boss’s best investigators couldn’t find ‘im to get ‘im punished the usual way. So, even though Boss knew it wasn’t really our fault, he couldn’t just let it slide. And he knew that any actual discipline he could dish out we would take without a word. So taking us off bodyguard was the only real way he could punish us.
    That’s how we ended up here, makin’ everyone think we was bein’ tortured or somethin’, and them not bein’ far off, at least from our point a’ view. We’d stewed in here for the past three hours, and we was reachin’ our boilin’ point.
    Max picks up a chair to hurl it against the wall, when the door at the top a’ th’ stairs opens.

    Somethin’ small an’ silvery arcs down over th’ stairs and bounces once on the concrete floor. Max, already holdin’ th’ chair, swings it on instinct an knocks it back up through th’ door. There’s a bright flash an’ a bang that shakes the walls. Shi is up th’ stairs while my ears are still ringin’, an’ the Fox is right behind ‘er. Max an’ I follow after takin’ a moment t’shake our heads clear. Second time in as many days. Kinda pissed me off.
    Shi and th’ Fox are standin’ a few paces from the stairs, their respective weapons pointed at this chump dressed in wannabe military fatigues. He’s on ‘is a**, holdin’ somethin’ in ‘is right hand an’ wavin’ it at us. He’s shakin’ ‘is head an’ blinkin’ furiously, and I almost grin. Serves th’ b*****d right, getting’ hit with ‘is own flash-bang. S’what happens when you mess with these cats.
    Then Max swears, and I get th’ picture after a moment. He’s wearin’ one a’ those suicide vests that’s wired up with explosives, an’ th’ thing in ‘is hand is a deadman’s remote. If we kill ‘im – or even make a move he doesn’t like – he lets go of th’ button, an’ boom.
    At first all I can do is stand there, starin’ at ‘im, tryin’ not t’ breath too hard, until I notice th’ Fox lookin’ at me, an’ lookin’ hard. Shi and Max are watchin’ him, an’ the cat on th’ ground starts yellin’ some cliché threat about blowin’ us all t’kingdom come. I guess it bothered him that no one was paying attention to ‘im an’ his big bomb.
    Fox’s head makes an almost invisible movement toward th’ guy, and I raise my eyebrows in response. He gives th’ slightest of nods, and I see both Shi an’ Max tense up in preparation. The guy on th’ ground stops mid-tirade as Max lurches toward him, stompin’ his foot onto th’ ground like you do when you’re tryin’ t’ scare off an alley cat. He freaks, swingin’ the remote to point at Max, as if the button’s gonna blow Max up instead a’ him. My heart’s goin’ so fast I almost react too late, but I close one a my meaty hands over th’ guys fist before he c’n let go. I smile a crazy smile at ‘im, and the cat has just enough time to look afraid before I step on ‘is chest and tear ‘is arm from his shoulder. .
    He starts wailin’, an’ Max laughs as blood spurts from the cat’s shoulder all over th’ floor. He’s still screamin’ as Fox pins his arm to th’ ground with his left foot an’ shuts ‘im up with a bullet to t’ the left eye.
    After we all take a moment staring down at the body, th’ Fox turns and looks at Max. He takes th’ hint, moving forward to pick up th’ body without too much difficulty. He points at th’ entrance to th’ basement, an’ Max tosses th’ body down th’ stairs. I step forward and close the door until there’s just enough room for my arm, then toss the dead man’s arm down, shut th’ door an’ jump back. The explosion shakes th’ door off its hinges, an’ smoke billows up th’ stairs.
    Soon as th’ noise stops, Fox’s phone goes off. His Matherson disappears back into ‘is coat, an’ he pulls the cell phone outta his inner jacket pocket an’ flips it open.
    He says nothin’ at first, an’ Max an’ I hafta resist the urge to huddle up next to ‘im to listen in. After a moment, though, he speaks up.
    “Yeah, Boss. They sent one in just like you said they would. Yeah, we’re all here. New guy, too. He did good. Didn’t crack, didn’t freak. Got nerves of steel, this one. I think he’s a fine addition. Yes, sir, I’ll tell him.”
    The phone snaps shut, an’ th’ Fox looks at Shi an’ Max before letting ‘is eyes settle on me. Then he offers his hand.
    “Welcome to The Four.”