Back to GatefoldIssue #19 by Mike Hintze
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There was such a thing as being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Jacob knew this. But what could you do when the wrong place was an entire country and the wrong time was anytime?
He heard the explosions from several streets away, the echo of shelling and automatic weapons fire. The Imperial Police, as they were called, were scouring neighborhoods. God only knew what for. Jacob knew they might come his way, to his family. He prayed it was not so.
Jacob's street was empty of people, everyone having retreated into their homes or abandoned them altogether in the vain hopes of missing the Imperial Police. Jacob knew it was useless. If his neighborhood was targeted today, they would have already been surrounded before they knew what was going on. The Police still might come to Jacob's street, but even if he did run...where would he and his family go?
The last time his family had been close to a raid, Jacob's father had been killed. The Imperial Police had overtaken the city square in the middle of an address by the King's political rival. The Police had given no warning; they had simply appeared and started shooting into the crowd. On the edge of the square, Jacob and his mother and sister had stayed as far as they dared but still close enough to hear the speech being given. When the chaos had erupted, Jacob and his family had hidden in a dumpster, Jacob's mother clasping her hand over Jacob's sister's mouth to keep her silent. Jacob's father had not been with them, as he had gone further into the crowd to hear the speech about resisting the King's tyrannical ways.
Jacob had peeked out of the dumpster a crack to try and see his father. The crowd parted in the alleyway and he did see him, screaming for his family's whereabouts. Two members of the Imperial Police then grabbed Jacob's father and slammed the butts of their rifles on his head, knocking him to the ground. Dazed, Jacob's father had tried to get up, but was beaten back down again more savagely than before. Jacob's father was unmoving, blood seeping from his head onto the dirt. One of the guards laughed and aimed his rifle at Jacob's father's head, but was stopped by the other. He had a better idea. He brought out a three foot long machete and whipped it around and down onto Jacob's father's head, splitting it open.
Jacob never made a sound as tears streamed down his face in horror and anger.
Now, the Police were threatening his family again. But he was a boy...barely 14 years-old. What could he do as he watched from the front porch of his family's ramshackle home?
"You!” came a deep voice. "Boy! Come here!"
Jacob looked down and across the street and felt his first true fear since his father's death. Three Imperial Officers had walked out from an alley and were making their way to Jacob.
Jacob stood in one spot, unable to move. It was the scream of his mother that jarred him from his shock.
"No!" she yelled as she ran out to grab her son. Jacob looked back and saw his sister standing behind at the doorway, all of 6 years-old. "Leave my son alone!"
She wrapped her arms around Jacob and started dragging him back into the house. The ground in front of them erupted from gunfire, barely missing them.
"Release the boy and stay where you are!" yelled the deep voice again. "You are under arrest!"
Jacob pulled at his mother’s arms. “Mother, let me go! Perhaps they will let you live if they get me.”
His mother sobbed and grasped onto Jacob as if he were a life preserver in a roiling ocean. “No! You will not have him!”
“Release the boy now, or we shoot you both,” said one of the men. He brought his rifle up and aimed it at the mother and son.
The shooter’s partner put his hand on the man’s rifle. “Wait,” he said as he pointed to the far side of Jacob’s house. “Look.” A young girl had come around the far corner and stopped dead when she saw the two armed men. Her face went even more horrified when she saw her mother and brother crouching together not thirty feet away.
“Mommy?” said the little girl, tears beginning to stream down her face.
“Adelia, no!” screamed the mother, still clutching her son.
“Come here, little girl,” said the first man. “Come here and we will not hurt you or your family.”
The girl looked unsure, moving her gaze from her mother to the soldiers and back again. The mother was the first to move. She released her son and ran at her daughter. The first soldier raised his rifle to shoot her. He took aim.
The soldier crumpled to the ground as his head exploded.
The second soldier was covered in blood and brain matter. He wiped his eyes, unsure what he had just seen. He raised his rifle toward the woman, now clutching her daughter.
His arm blew off his body, blood spurting. The rifle dropped to the ground with a clatter. The soldier turned, in shock, to see a man walking out of another alleyway. He wore dark clothes…a hooded shirt that covered his features in shadow. A barely visible outline of a skull could be seen as he came up close. In his left arm was a sniper rifle. In the other, a foot long combat knife.
“Look away,” said the imposing figure to the family as he came up close to the wounded soldier. The mother reached out and covered her children’s eyes. The new arrival spun the knife in his hand and slid it up under the soldier’s jaw and twisted. He crumpled to the ground as blood poured down his chest.
The mother opened her eyes and looked at Frank Castle. He looked down at her, coldness in his eyes.
“Run,” he said.
She didn’t hesitate. Seconds later, she had her children moving as fast as their feet could take them. Jacob looked back once and looked at Castle. For the rest of his days, he would never forget the deadness of the man’s gaze…or the faint symbol on his chest.
He heard the explosions from several streets away, the echo of shelling and automatic weapons fire. The Imperial Police, as they were called, were scouring neighborhoods. God only knew what for. Jacob knew they might come his way, to his family. He prayed it was not so.
Jacob's street was empty of people, everyone having retreated into their homes or abandoned them altogether in the vain hopes of missing the Imperial Police. Jacob knew it was useless. If his neighborhood was targeted today, they would have already been surrounded before they knew what was going on. The Police still might come to Jacob's street, but even if he did run...where would he and his family go?
The last time his family had been close to a raid, Jacob's father had been killed. The Imperial Police had overtaken the city square in the middle of an address by the King's political rival. The Police had given no warning; they had simply appeared and started shooting into the crowd. On the edge of the square, Jacob and his mother and sister had stayed as far as they dared but still close enough to hear the speech being given. When the chaos had erupted, Jacob and his family had hidden in a dumpster, Jacob's mother clasping her hand over Jacob's sister's mouth to keep her silent. Jacob's father had not been with them, as he had gone further into the crowd to hear the speech about resisting the King's tyrannical ways.
Jacob had peeked out of the dumpster a crack to try and see his father. The crowd parted in the alleyway and he did see him, screaming for his family's whereabouts. Two members of the Imperial Police then grabbed Jacob's father and slammed the butts of their rifles on his head, knocking him to the ground. Dazed, Jacob's father had tried to get up, but was beaten back down again more savagely than before. Jacob's father was unmoving, blood seeping from his head onto the dirt. One of the guards laughed and aimed his rifle at Jacob's father's head, but was stopped by the other. He had a better idea. He brought out a three foot long machete and whipped it around and down onto Jacob's father's head, splitting it open.
Jacob never made a sound as tears streamed down his face in horror and anger.
Now, the Police were threatening his family again. But he was a boy...barely 14 years-old. What could he do as he watched from the front porch of his family's ramshackle home?
"You!” came a deep voice. "Boy! Come here!"
Jacob looked down and across the street and felt his first true fear since his father's death. Three Imperial Officers had walked out from an alley and were making their way to Jacob.
Jacob stood in one spot, unable to move. It was the scream of his mother that jarred him from his shock.
"No!" she yelled as she ran out to grab her son. Jacob looked back and saw his sister standing behind at the doorway, all of 6 years-old. "Leave my son alone!"
She wrapped her arms around Jacob and started dragging him back into the house. The ground in front of them erupted from gunfire, barely missing them.
"Release the boy and stay where you are!" yelled the deep voice again. "You are under arrest!"
Jacob pulled at his mother’s arms. “Mother, let me go! Perhaps they will let you live if they get me.”
His mother sobbed and grasped onto Jacob as if he were a life preserver in a roiling ocean. “No! You will not have him!”
“Release the boy now, or we shoot you both,” said one of the men. He brought his rifle up and aimed it at the mother and son.
The shooter’s partner put his hand on the man’s rifle. “Wait,” he said as he pointed to the far side of Jacob’s house. “Look.” A young girl had come around the far corner and stopped dead when she saw the two armed men. Her face went even more horrified when she saw her mother and brother crouching together not thirty feet away.
“Mommy?” said the little girl, tears beginning to stream down her face.
“Adelia, no!” screamed the mother, still clutching her son.
“Come here, little girl,” said the first man. “Come here and we will not hurt you or your family.”
The girl looked unsure, moving her gaze from her mother to the soldiers and back again. The mother was the first to move. She released her son and ran at her daughter. The first soldier raised his rifle to shoot her. He took aim.
The soldier crumpled to the ground as his head exploded.
The second soldier was covered in blood and brain matter. He wiped his eyes, unsure what he had just seen. He raised his rifle toward the woman, now clutching her daughter.
His arm blew off his body, blood spurting. The rifle dropped to the ground with a clatter. The soldier turned, in shock, to see a man walking out of another alleyway. He wore dark clothes…a hooded shirt that covered his features in shadow. A barely visible outline of a skull could be seen as he came up close. In his left arm was a sniper rifle. In the other, a foot long combat knife.
“Look away,” said the imposing figure to the family as he came up close to the wounded soldier. The mother reached out and covered her children’s eyes. The new arrival spun the knife in his hand and slid it up under the soldier’s jaw and twisted. He crumpled to the ground as blood poured down his chest.
The mother opened her eyes and looked at Frank Castle. He looked down at her, coldness in his eyes.
“Run,” he said.
She didn’t hesitate. Seconds later, she had her children moving as fast as their feet could take them. Jacob looked back once and looked at Castle. For the rest of his days, he would never forget the deadness of the man’s gaze…or the faint symbol on his chest.
“Agent of Fury: Part One”
Then
“His name is Marcus Mojimbe.”
Nick Fury stood behind the beam that projected from the overhead lights. Frank Castle and Maria Hill sat in seats watching the presentation. Fury chewed his stogie as he clicked through pictures and other footage.
“He’s the dictator of Katanga, a small African nation located near Wakanda. Population of approximately one million, but that is open to debate. The genocide Mojimbe has been spearheading leaves the population figures extremely loose and an estimate at best.”
Fury clicked the remote. The picture changed from a man wearing royal raiment to the same man wearing fatigues and brandishing a gold-plated AK-47. The sun reflected off his sunglasses. “Among many, many violations of international law, Mojimbe is also a very willing associate of our friends in the Cabal.”
Castle stared at the image of Mojimbe. “And SHIELD just sits back and lets this happen?”
Nick chewed down on his stogie. “SHIELD is restricted by the orders of the United Nations Security Council. Like other UN peacekeeping ventures, they observe and never involve themselves. We could send in a fleet of helicarriers and annihilate Mojimbe’s forces…but we are not allowed to. He has enough oil and gas resources to be effectively economically self-sufficient. Sanctions by the UN mean nothing. Like I said, Mojimbe and Katanga are key assets of the Cabal.”
“How key?” asked Maria Hill.
“Mojimbe acts as a money laundering location for the Cabal in terms of their weapons trade and drug running activities,” said Fury. “In particular, special high end weapons. Last month, they successfully sold a Scorpio Key to Al-Qaeda.”
“My God,” said Hill.
“What the hell is a Scorpio Key?” asked Castle.
“An otherdimensional artifact that is bad news if the wrong person gets a hold of it,” said Fury. “Luckily, we managed to take down the Al-Qaeda cell that possessed it and have it in custody.”
“So take out Mojimbe,” said Castle. “Cut off the head and the rest will fall.”
“You’re not a naïve man,” said Fury, “So don’t pretend to be. Mojimbe falls and the Cabal puts someone else in power. Katanga is so lawless and violent, Wakanda refuses any border access to the country. Vibranium shields ring the valley between the two nations. Nothing can cross from one to the other. King T’Challa finds it best to just barricade them apart and forget they exist.”
“So what do you expect me to do?” asked Castle. “Killing men like Mojimbe is what I do best. If this arrangement is going to work, Fury, then put me where I’m useful.”
“All right, to the point then,” said Fury. “Castle, you’re going into Katanga and assassinating Mojimbe.”
Castle turned to look at Fury incredulously. “You just said that was a useless task.”
“It would be, if the world and everyone else knew Mojimbe was dead.” Fury clicked a button on his remote and a door slid open on the other side of the room. A large black man in fatigues stepped out.
It was Mojimbe.
Castle stood up and drew his sidearm. “What the hell is going on, Fury? Don’t play fucking games with me.”
“This isn’t Mojimbe,” said Fury with a grin. “It’s a Life Model Decoy. You are going to infiltrate the Katangan capital city, kill Mojimbe and replace him with this LMD. You’ll need to copy Mojimbe’s memory engrams into the LMD prior to death, but after that the LMD will take it from there. As Mojimbe, he’ll arrange for your safe passage from the country.”
“Just like that,” said Castle.
“Well, ideally,” said Fury. “Plans can change…but you’re used to operating under pressure.”
“That I am,” said Castle. “Where’s the drop point?”
“Twenty clicks east of Mojimbe City, the capital. It wasn’t always named that, but Mojimbe had it renamed when he took power. You’ll be dropped at night via stealthcrawler and make your way on foot. You get into the palace and do your job, then get sent home. From there, the LMD relays information to us that we can use to further our aims against the Cabal.” Fury clicked the pictures forward.
“Here’s a taste of what Mojimbe is capable of.” The picture resolved. “This is what he did to a family of six when one of the daughters refused his advances.”
The picture was of six forms barely recognizable as human. They were hung from their feet in what looked like a town square. Five of them were skinned. The last, the daughter presumably, was spread eagled to a crossbrace of wood with a sword in her genitals.
“He was in a good mood that day,” said Fury as he clicked the projector off and turned on the lights.
“Two of them were kids,” said Castle.
“Regardless of the Cabal involvement, Mojimbe needs to be taken down.” Fury crossed his arms and looked at Castle. “This a bad enough guy for you?”
“Yes,” said Castle. “He is.”
# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #
The skies were pitch black as the SHIELD issue stealth fighter arced in near orbit and dropped down towards the African continent. The G-forces pushed Frank Castle back in his crash webbing, but it was bearable. He had experienced the punishing g-forces of orbital travel before.
The lights in the cabin were a dim red, giving everything a muted, devilish glow. Maria Hill sat across from him as the fighter sped into Katangan airspace.
Castle looked down at his wrist and rubbed at it. It was sore where Hill had injected him with a tracking device. Apparently it would allow her to trace Castle’s whereabouts undetected. She said the device routed its signal into something called the Negative Zone before being sent out to her own receiver. Since the signal never left Castle’s body, it was literally undetectable. It was also connected to an earpiece injected into his ear canal. Using the same Negative Zone routing, Castle could communicate with Hill for brief burst transmissions if required…plus something extra special that Hill had said was for emergencies only.
“We’re two minutes out,” said Hill. Castle could feel the fighter leveling out, the g-forces backing off considerably. “Once you’re in the stealthcrawler pod, it will take thirty seconds to charge. Five seconds after that, it will activate. Two seconds after that, you’ll be at your destination.”
“Short range teleporting?” asked Castle. “Sounds like Star Trek.”
“More of a dimensional shunt,” said Hill. “We cribbed the process off of scans of one of the X-Men. You’ll smell some brimstone, but only for a second.”
“If this kills me,” said Castle, “I’ll come back and nail you and Fury.”
Hill gave a wry grin. “I believe you.” She looked at her watch. “Time to go.”
Castle unsnapped his crash webbing and stood. A black cylinder was five feet away, a hatch open and waiting for him. He was armed as much as he could be and still be able to move freely and not attract attention. He stepped into the cylinder and Hill began to close it after him.
“Good luck,” said Hill.
“Close the door,” said Castle. Hill did so. Castle was now in pitch blackness.
A quiet whining could be heard building as the cylinder cycled up. A red countdown began to flash on a digital readout.
5….
4….
3….
2….
1….
BAMF!
# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #
Mojimbe City, Presidential Palace
Marcus Mojimbe walked down the opulent hallway, tying his robe. He had been in the middle of his nightly escapade with one of his subjects (tonight’s was especially interesting…he always liked them younger rather than older). He had been interrupted by one of his men summoning him. The Chief of his Imperial Police had needed an emergency session with the President. If anyone else for any other reason had interrupted his nightly pleasures, they would have been decapitated on the spot. But his Chief of Imperial Police was not one to waste time. Lord knew, it cost him enough to employ the man.
Mojimbe pushed open the doors to his War Room and walked inside. He saw several armed men, all Imperial Policemen, awaiting him. He always smiled inwardly at the term Imperial Police. They were really his personal kill squad, men he trusted and rewarded with license to kill at will, as long as it served his purposes and those of Mojimbe’s benefactors. It was those benefactors that had provided him with his Imperial Police Chief, in fact. Mojimbe turned and saw the man standing over the backlit table display that was a real-time representation of Katanga’s current state of security affairs.
“Mr. President,” said the imposing man. His skin was black as night. The light from the table display played off his skin and made the white death’s head tattoo on his face glow. His eyes turned up to look at Mojimbe, but otherwise he did not move. He never seemed to move without purpose. Mojimbe had little to fear in Katanga…but he did fear and respect Roald Bushman.
“What has transpired that you would interrupt my evening, Bushman?” asked the Katangan President.
“Your life is in danger,” said Bushman. “An assassin makes his way here even now to take your life.”
“That is why I employ you and the security forces,” said Mojimbe. “If you know of this man, kill him. Tape it for me…I would enjoy watching you apply your craft to this individual.”
“I do not know where he is this moment,” said Bushman. “I do know he is in Katanga and makes his way here. He is American.”
“American,” said Mojimbe derisively. “I do not fear America.”
“You should fear this man,” said Bushman. “His name is Frank Castle. He is also known as the Punisher.”
Mojimbe paused. “I have heard of the Punisher. You can stop him, yes?”
“I can,” said Bushman. “But be warned. He is not a normal man. It will take much to stop him.”
“Whatever it takes,” said Mojimbe. “Katanga’s resources are yours.”
“Very well,” said Bushman. “This time tomorrow, Frank Castle will be hanging dead in the palace courtyard.”
Next Issue: ‘Agent of Fury – Part Two’ as Bushman pulls out all the stops to kill Frank Castle!
“His name is Marcus Mojimbe.”
Nick Fury stood behind the beam that projected from the overhead lights. Frank Castle and Maria Hill sat in seats watching the presentation. Fury chewed his stogie as he clicked through pictures and other footage.
“He’s the dictator of Katanga, a small African nation located near Wakanda. Population of approximately one million, but that is open to debate. The genocide Mojimbe has been spearheading leaves the population figures extremely loose and an estimate at best.”
Fury clicked the remote. The picture changed from a man wearing royal raiment to the same man wearing fatigues and brandishing a gold-plated AK-47. The sun reflected off his sunglasses. “Among many, many violations of international law, Mojimbe is also a very willing associate of our friends in the Cabal.”
Castle stared at the image of Mojimbe. “And SHIELD just sits back and lets this happen?”
Nick chewed down on his stogie. “SHIELD is restricted by the orders of the United Nations Security Council. Like other UN peacekeeping ventures, they observe and never involve themselves. We could send in a fleet of helicarriers and annihilate Mojimbe’s forces…but we are not allowed to. He has enough oil and gas resources to be effectively economically self-sufficient. Sanctions by the UN mean nothing. Like I said, Mojimbe and Katanga are key assets of the Cabal.”
“How key?” asked Maria Hill.
“Mojimbe acts as a money laundering location for the Cabal in terms of their weapons trade and drug running activities,” said Fury. “In particular, special high end weapons. Last month, they successfully sold a Scorpio Key to Al-Qaeda.”
“My God,” said Hill.
“What the hell is a Scorpio Key?” asked Castle.
“An otherdimensional artifact that is bad news if the wrong person gets a hold of it,” said Fury. “Luckily, we managed to take down the Al-Qaeda cell that possessed it and have it in custody.”
“So take out Mojimbe,” said Castle. “Cut off the head and the rest will fall.”
“You’re not a naïve man,” said Fury, “So don’t pretend to be. Mojimbe falls and the Cabal puts someone else in power. Katanga is so lawless and violent, Wakanda refuses any border access to the country. Vibranium shields ring the valley between the two nations. Nothing can cross from one to the other. King T’Challa finds it best to just barricade them apart and forget they exist.”
“So what do you expect me to do?” asked Castle. “Killing men like Mojimbe is what I do best. If this arrangement is going to work, Fury, then put me where I’m useful.”
“All right, to the point then,” said Fury. “Castle, you’re going into Katanga and assassinating Mojimbe.”
Castle turned to look at Fury incredulously. “You just said that was a useless task.”
“It would be, if the world and everyone else knew Mojimbe was dead.” Fury clicked a button on his remote and a door slid open on the other side of the room. A large black man in fatigues stepped out.
It was Mojimbe.
Castle stood up and drew his sidearm. “What the hell is going on, Fury? Don’t play fucking games with me.”
“This isn’t Mojimbe,” said Fury with a grin. “It’s a Life Model Decoy. You are going to infiltrate the Katangan capital city, kill Mojimbe and replace him with this LMD. You’ll need to copy Mojimbe’s memory engrams into the LMD prior to death, but after that the LMD will take it from there. As Mojimbe, he’ll arrange for your safe passage from the country.”
“Just like that,” said Castle.
“Well, ideally,” said Fury. “Plans can change…but you’re used to operating under pressure.”
“That I am,” said Castle. “Where’s the drop point?”
“Twenty clicks east of Mojimbe City, the capital. It wasn’t always named that, but Mojimbe had it renamed when he took power. You’ll be dropped at night via stealthcrawler and make your way on foot. You get into the palace and do your job, then get sent home. From there, the LMD relays information to us that we can use to further our aims against the Cabal.” Fury clicked the pictures forward.
“Here’s a taste of what Mojimbe is capable of.” The picture resolved. “This is what he did to a family of six when one of the daughters refused his advances.”
The picture was of six forms barely recognizable as human. They were hung from their feet in what looked like a town square. Five of them were skinned. The last, the daughter presumably, was spread eagled to a crossbrace of wood with a sword in her genitals.
“He was in a good mood that day,” said Fury as he clicked the projector off and turned on the lights.
“Two of them were kids,” said Castle.
“Regardless of the Cabal involvement, Mojimbe needs to be taken down.” Fury crossed his arms and looked at Castle. “This a bad enough guy for you?”
“Yes,” said Castle. “He is.”
# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #
The skies were pitch black as the SHIELD issue stealth fighter arced in near orbit and dropped down towards the African continent. The G-forces pushed Frank Castle back in his crash webbing, but it was bearable. He had experienced the punishing g-forces of orbital travel before.
The lights in the cabin were a dim red, giving everything a muted, devilish glow. Maria Hill sat across from him as the fighter sped into Katangan airspace.
Castle looked down at his wrist and rubbed at it. It was sore where Hill had injected him with a tracking device. Apparently it would allow her to trace Castle’s whereabouts undetected. She said the device routed its signal into something called the Negative Zone before being sent out to her own receiver. Since the signal never left Castle’s body, it was literally undetectable. It was also connected to an earpiece injected into his ear canal. Using the same Negative Zone routing, Castle could communicate with Hill for brief burst transmissions if required…plus something extra special that Hill had said was for emergencies only.
“We’re two minutes out,” said Hill. Castle could feel the fighter leveling out, the g-forces backing off considerably. “Once you’re in the stealthcrawler pod, it will take thirty seconds to charge. Five seconds after that, it will activate. Two seconds after that, you’ll be at your destination.”
“Short range teleporting?” asked Castle. “Sounds like Star Trek.”
“More of a dimensional shunt,” said Hill. “We cribbed the process off of scans of one of the X-Men. You’ll smell some brimstone, but only for a second.”
“If this kills me,” said Castle, “I’ll come back and nail you and Fury.”
Hill gave a wry grin. “I believe you.” She looked at her watch. “Time to go.”
Castle unsnapped his crash webbing and stood. A black cylinder was five feet away, a hatch open and waiting for him. He was armed as much as he could be and still be able to move freely and not attract attention. He stepped into the cylinder and Hill began to close it after him.
“Good luck,” said Hill.
“Close the door,” said Castle. Hill did so. Castle was now in pitch blackness.
A quiet whining could be heard building as the cylinder cycled up. A red countdown began to flash on a digital readout.
5….
4….
3….
2….
1….
BAMF!
# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #
Mojimbe City, Presidential Palace
Marcus Mojimbe walked down the opulent hallway, tying his robe. He had been in the middle of his nightly escapade with one of his subjects (tonight’s was especially interesting…he always liked them younger rather than older). He had been interrupted by one of his men summoning him. The Chief of his Imperial Police had needed an emergency session with the President. If anyone else for any other reason had interrupted his nightly pleasures, they would have been decapitated on the spot. But his Chief of Imperial Police was not one to waste time. Lord knew, it cost him enough to employ the man.
Mojimbe pushed open the doors to his War Room and walked inside. He saw several armed men, all Imperial Policemen, awaiting him. He always smiled inwardly at the term Imperial Police. They were really his personal kill squad, men he trusted and rewarded with license to kill at will, as long as it served his purposes and those of Mojimbe’s benefactors. It was those benefactors that had provided him with his Imperial Police Chief, in fact. Mojimbe turned and saw the man standing over the backlit table display that was a real-time representation of Katanga’s current state of security affairs.
“Mr. President,” said the imposing man. His skin was black as night. The light from the table display played off his skin and made the white death’s head tattoo on his face glow. His eyes turned up to look at Mojimbe, but otherwise he did not move. He never seemed to move without purpose. Mojimbe had little to fear in Katanga…but he did fear and respect Roald Bushman.
“What has transpired that you would interrupt my evening, Bushman?” asked the Katangan President.
“Your life is in danger,” said Bushman. “An assassin makes his way here even now to take your life.”
“That is why I employ you and the security forces,” said Mojimbe. “If you know of this man, kill him. Tape it for me…I would enjoy watching you apply your craft to this individual.”
“I do not know where he is this moment,” said Bushman. “I do know he is in Katanga and makes his way here. He is American.”
“American,” said Mojimbe derisively. “I do not fear America.”
“You should fear this man,” said Bushman. “His name is Frank Castle. He is also known as the Punisher.”
Mojimbe paused. “I have heard of the Punisher. You can stop him, yes?”
“I can,” said Bushman. “But be warned. He is not a normal man. It will take much to stop him.”
“Whatever it takes,” said Mojimbe. “Katanga’s resources are yours.”
“Very well,” said Bushman. “This time tomorrow, Frank Castle will be hanging dead in the palace courtyard.”
Next Issue: ‘Agent of Fury – Part Two’ as Bushman pulls out all the stops to kill Frank Castle!