The slap of the gloved fist against skin was like a whip in the room. Luke’s head rocked with the blow but he maintained control and only allowed the barest of grunts to escape. He turned his head slowly to regard the man in front of him and spit a glob of blood to the side. One eye was swollen nearly shut, the skin split across the cheekbone. His nose and lips both bled, and when he smiled—a humorless smile full of anger and promise—pink tainted his teeth and gums.

The man before him seemed unphazed by the glare, if indeed he even noticed. He simply stepped back and looked over his shoulder as two men entered the room. Black Mike Calvone and his lieutenant Willy the Pick were smiling.

“Good news!” Black Mike said cheerfully. “There’s actually a bidding war for you.” Willy The Pick chuckled, a rough unfriendly sound. Black Mike nodded to the silent man, who stepped even farther back and took up a casual stance. He seemed bored.

Black Mike tugged on is coat sleeves, an affectation of his. “I was going to save you for the families to exact their revenge, but it seems there are several parties interested in obtaining you.” He smiled tightly. “Revenge would be preferred, of course, but bragging rights and a hefty paycheck will soothe even your most fervent enemies within the families.”

Luke tried to laugh, coughed instead. He spit again and shook his head. “You’re only prolonging the inevitable.”

Black Mike’s brows rose. “Oh? Do tell.”

“The Conquistadors will tear your precious families apart to find me.”

Black Mike and Willy the Pick exchanged amused looks. “I don’t think so,” Black Mike said.

“Seems you’re undercover,” Willy the Pick offered. He chuckled again at Luke’s confused look. “Those computer boards of yours are good for spreading rumors. Eventually it’ll get back to your friends on that so-called super team, but by the time they figure out you’re really missing you’ll be dead and we’ll be well paid.”

“There. You see?” Black Mike spread his hands. “All the little loose ends are being tied up.” He glanced at his watch. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to see if the Russians have decided to go above three million, or if our anonymous bidder will get to claim you.” He nodded again at the silent man. “Omerta will keep you company. He’s not one for conversation, of course, but he’s certain to keep you…entertained.”

Willy the Pick laughed as the two Mafioso left the room. Omerta flexed his gloved hands and stepped forward again.

“You’re dead, you know,” Luke said, steeling himself for the inevitable. “By my hand or someone else’s, you’re dead.”

Omerta considered that for a moment before lashing out. Luke’s head rocked back again, darkness warring with flashes of color in his vision.

* * * * *

“Impressive.” Black Mike leaned back in the office chair and considered the offer before him on the computer screen. He studied the screen for a moment before continuing. “It seems the Russians have peaked at three point five, but our mysterious bidder is willing to go to four.”

From a nearby desk Willy the Pick looked up from his own laptop. “Want me to bid again?” He’d been fueling the early bidding on behalf of “other” families in order to drive the price up.

“No,” Black Mike said slowly. “I don’t think so. I don’t want to scare them off. Let’s see—“

There was a knock at the office door just before it opened. A dark-haired man with a thin mustache poke his head in.

“Boss? Someone’s here.”

“Someone?” Black Mike glanced at Willy, who stood. “Define ‘someone’.”

“Some guy. A street snitch or something. Says he has an offer for you.”

Black Mike considered that for a moment before nodding to Willy. “Go see what this gentleman wants. If he seems legit, bring him to me.”

Willy nodded and followed the enforcer out.

* * * * *

Frankie Jacks stood nervously, moving from foot to foot as he glanced all around him, everywhere but at the two button men facing him. He hefted the case in his hand, his fingers uncurling and curling around the handle. He didn’t like the plan, not one bit, but…well, he owed the guy. This would make them even, though, and he wouldn’t be taking chances like this again any time soon. Maybe a road trip. Someplace warm. Arizona. He had a cousin in Arizona. Or maybe it was New Mexico.

The door to the warehouse opened and Willy the Pick himself stepped out, followed by another enforcer. He looked up and down the street reflexively before turning his dark eyes on Frankie. The silence stretched out for long moments, turning Frankie’s nervousness into outright fear.

“You have ten seconds to interest me before I blow your head off,” he finally said.

Frankie swallowed hard. “You got that vigilante Nemesis. I know people who want him.”

Willy stepped forward quickly, glaring down at the snitch. “How do you know?”

“Th-the word’s out, right?” Frankie spread his hands and resisted the urge to run. “People are starting to talk, okay? I didn’t know. People know. They just told me to come here.”

“What people?” Willie demanded. “And why send you?”

This part of the plan Frankie thought really sucked.

“B-because I’m expendable,” Frankie said in a coarse whisper. “I’m just a messenger. I don’t know who’s pulling the strings—I don’t, okay? They just told me to come here and make an offer.”

Willy stayed in Frankie’s personal space for several heartbeats before stepping back. “An offer. Continue.”

Frankie nodded and swallowed again. His mouth was really dry. “I get a message, okay? A guy says to take this phone—“ he reached into his coat pocket, then froze as four guns of various and increasing caliber swung to cover him.

“Easy!” Frankie closed his eyes and tried to get his breathing under control. And his bladder. “Easy, okay? It’s just a phone.” He pulled his hand out, revealing a cheap cellular phone of the sort one might pick up at a convenience store. “So, yeah, I get this phone. It says to come here, and—“

Willy the Pick snatched the phone out of his hand and studied it a moment before using his thumb to access the menu. Frankie leaned forward a little, trying to see, until a glare from Willy put him back on his heels.

“So, yeah, I get the message to come here. And make you an offer. And then report back.”

The phone beeped and Willy’s brows creased. He spared a glare for Frankie before shoving the phone into his chest. Frankie took the phone as he regained his balance, then glanced at the screen.

*Give the phone back to the messenger.*, a text said. He swallowed. Willy was scanning the surrounding buildings, taking a hesitant step back.

The phone beeped again. Frankie nodded. “Um, it says three million for Nemesis.”

“Where are they?”

Frankie blinked. “What?”

Willy turned a baleful glare on Frankie and raised his weapon again. “Where are they?! How can they see us?”

“I don’t know!” Frankie cried, flinching. “I don’t, okay? They’re, like, connected and stuff. They could have a fucking satellite for all I know, right? Okay?”

The phone beeped again. Frankie almost whimpered.

“Three million five,” he repeated. He so wanted to be somewhere else.

Willy scowled all around him. The enforcers were looking everywhere, their guns at the ready. They couldn’t see anything.

“Wh—what do I tell ‘em?” Frankie asked.

“What?”

Frankie swallowed again. It was doing less and less good. “What do I tell them?”

Willy extended his arm, his pistol pointed directly between Frankie’s eyes. “You tell them goodbye.”

The phone beeped again. Frankie did whimper this time as he glanced down at the phone in his hand.

“Um.” He didn’t want to say anything.

“What?” Willy demanded.

Frankie closed his eyes and held out the phone. He felt it snatched from his hand again. He knew what the text said. *Give him the case.*

This was the part of the plan he was really going to hate.

He felt the case jerked from his other hand. He risked opening his eyes a fraction. Willy’s attention was on the case, the gun no longer pointing directly at Frankie.

Frankie took a step back.

Willy studied the case, a silver-and-black security brief case with combination locks, of the type normally seen in spy movies and such. He fingered the tabs and glanced up at Frankie with a questioning look.

“What’s in it?”

“Um.” Frankie really, really hated this part. He shuffled back half a step reflexively. “Um, they said…”

Willy glared again. “They said what?”

“They said it was their final offer.”

Willy the Pick scowled and returned his attention to the case. He considered momentarily before thumbing the tabs open. Frankie turned to run. One of the enforcers took a step toward him.

“Hey, what—“

The case exploded.