"I'm too old for this s--t." Nelson Cruz yelled into his phone, before hanging up. But there was the briefest pause before he hit the red button. Just a moment of hesitation. "Nelly" to his friends, but known as "Boomstick" to the authorities, had done this before. He knew the drill. He knew they'd come, and he knew he'd go. Yet he was now comfortable. He had what he wanted from life. He'd never really made it big, but he'd done many a job. He had blown up places throughout the continent. From Vancouver in his early days, to so many in the last four years that they just seemed to all blend together in his mind. And, yet, there sat the bag by the door. The weapons of the trade had somehow made their way, without him even thinking about it, into that navy and grey bag. He back down, let out a heavy sigh, and turned on downhill skiing. He loves that Super G.

-----

"You ready for this?" the text read on the screen of glitter-backed S9. No one else had one, yet some how Robinson already had gotten his hands on one. You never asked, you just accepted. He was poolside, naturally. The sun gleamed off the pool. He reached down, without even looking, pull it just within eyesight, and a smile grew, before fading as he set the phone down again.

------

In a quiet neighborhood, birds chirped, and a pair of late-middle-aged women powerwalked by. But inside, the large man was packing. The kids had been sent to school, and now she sat on the bed. "You know you don't have to do this any more, right? This is going to be a disaster. What happens if you get hurt again?" He grimaced at that final one. That one was new. But this was his calling. He was their King. Sure, Jerry called most of the shots, but when it hit the fan, they all looked to him. Even though the kids were gone, he kissed them on the face one more time, pulled down his hat, sunk his shoulders, and walked out, tickets in hand.

------

As a hawk shrieked, there was brief flash of flannel. He moved as though he was not just born in the forest, but part of it. Behind him, his faithful steed ate at the grass. It's antlers were nearly big enough to not fit between the Douglas firs that filled the forest. He had heard there was something amiss in these woods. British Columbia deserved better than this. How could they do this in his native homeland? Sure, they were close to the border, but they knew better. They had to know better. Finally, he burst from the dark of his native forest into the sunlight, standing in front of a strip mall that blighted the natural landscape. A sign read "Jacques Pizzeria". How could they? He walked straight into the door, and the owner said "Welcome to Jacques, how can I help you?"

The man seemed to grow in height as he walked up to the counter. "I'm very sorry to bother you, but I noticed your sign out front. It says 'Jacques Pizzeria.'"

"Yes..."

"Well, sorry again, but you should know that Canada is a bi-lingual country, and you really need to have it say the name is both French and English, you know. Again, sorry, if you didn't."



"Yes, but..."



"Sorry, but no buts about it. It's gotta have both. Have a nice day."



He left, and sure enough, under where it said "Jacques Pizzeria", in slightly smaller font, it now also read "Jacques Pizzeria".

------

The smoke filled a dingy room. A single hanging light hung over a poker table. This was not the place you wanted to be if you didn't know exactly what you were doing. But he knew exactly what we was doing now. He knew the old man thought he was a sucker. Trying to slow play him. But, something seemed off, too. He had the best hand, by far. He had ace and eight of clubs. The board showed a 3 of hearts, two of clubs, three of clubs, a jack of diamonds, and a five of clubs. He had this hand won, he was sure. The old man in the hat says "all in".

What? He nearly shows shock.

"Call."

"Straight flush, ace through five", the old man says with a laugh.

And before he knows what has happened, the bat is out. It's a bright white ash. A Victus KS15. The old man in the hat tries to pull his piece, a silver revolver with a ivory handle, but it's smashed out of his hand with a lefty upper-cut before he can blink.

The batsman grabs the cash, spits, and grabs his crotch. "Cheat better next time, old man."

------

They've never asked me to do this before. I've always been the driver. But now, they're asking me to do more. This new crew seems nuts. I've only ever been small-time. We had some incredible talents, but never really made it out of Little Havana. Why do they want me to do this? But he had no options. He had to do it. He doubted himself, he thought about getting out entirely. But, then he saw the picture. Two young, smiling boys. So naive. He looked so short compared to his friend. Sure, they were only 4 inches apart, but his friend was just bigger than his size. Bigger than life. And now he was gone. And now, he was getting the call to be the patrol at the center of the whole thing.

------

The rest came, too.

A pair of twins (or so they appeared) on a pair of motorcycles. Hair flowing in the wind.

Edwin brought the only weapon he knew, the flamethrower.

The baby-faced escape artist.

The old man, still carrying a ball between just two fingers. They just hoped he'd make it.

The professor, who had suddenly turned from not just a brainiac, to a bruiser himself.

-------

Jerry started the meeting. "Alright, guys. We're here. We've gotta do this. For some of us, this might be our last go round. For others, we're just trying to learn the ropes. I also wanna welcome Devarias to the group."



"Let's just get this done, okay?"



"So, we've got our work cut out for us this year, boys."



"Yeah, no s--t," Kyle interjected. "Those boys from NASA look like they're impervious. They even picked up a new gunner from the north."

"I heard that even San Diego had picked up a new basher." The blonde said.

"I hate those guys," the whole group said in unison.

"Yeah, and I hear that those f--kers from LA got themselves a monster from the far east."



"Oh, he's much worse than that. I've seen him in person. It's terrifying." Kuma said, and then slowly closed his eyes and looked down. Everything hurt.

"In addition to the best? Maybe the best EVER? Hell, you're all screwed," the newcomer said.

"Maybe we are, but we've got no choice, the big boss says we've got to do it, so we're going to damned well do it."

The King had spoken. They were back, and maybe this time it would work...