One hour later

The estate

On the luxurious estate, there was a very large manor. In that manor, over 30 crime lords were waiting for news from Deathstroke and his crazy auction. Criminals from all over the USA and from other countries as well.

Outside, a group of mercenaries were handling security duties. Sentries on foot. At the gate. Some were driving around in Jeeps on the land. Fifty in all.

Nobody would come here looking for trouble. Not even The Punisher.

When the sentries starting hearing a plane engine, they paid no attention. Until it became louder and louder. Then they saw it. And since most of the mercs were former military, they knew they weren't looking a plane.

It was an unmanned drone. Triangular in shape, about the size of a small plane. The smooth silver aircraft was coming at them.

The mercs did the job. Alerted the bosses and tried to get ready.

Something underneath the drone was deployed.

An M61 20 mm Vulcan machine gun.

It opened fire.

100 rounds per second.

First, it destroyed the gate. The six men guarding the gate were blasted into shapeless red meat.

Then, it strafed the roving guard's vehicles and the men inside. The sentries on foot could also not resist the onslaught. They tried, firing rounds from M4s and AK47s at the drone. To no effect. The deafening thunder from the Vulcan pierced the as the rounds pierced flesh, bone, steel, glass and Kevlar.

A security car exploded. And another.

After less than a minute of relentless pounding, the 50 mercenaries were gone. Some, literally.

Then, the limos in which the bosses and their entourage arrived were being destroyed. Dozens of luxury cars turned to scrap metal.

Same with the four helicopters that were on landing areas on the vast lawn.

Then, the drone flew away. Its cannon was out of ammo.

Inside the mansion, there was fear, but not panic. Over 200 hardened criminals. Armed. War tested. Bloodied. Ready. They weren't expecting this, but they understood double-crosses. They understood violence. They knew The Punisher could show up heavily armed to a meeting like this. It has happened countless times before. This was nothing new or original.

They looked on the widescreen security monitors.

They saw four black SUVs approaching. High speed. That too, was typical. Nothing was novel about that approach. Something was happening to the roofs of the vehicles. Something was deployed.

They recognized it.

Stinger missile launchers. One on each truck.

A second later, four Stingers were fired. They found the outside wall nearest the very large conference room where the crime lords were gathered.

Soon, they saw the invaders get out of the SUVs. It was much worse than they thought.

Elektra. Black Widow. Shotgun. Nick Fury. Deathblow. Pat Trayce, former Vigilante. Deathstroke. And The Punisher.

Then, finally, some started to panic.

Outside the mansion

The Punisher and his allies were on foot heading towards the breach.

Fury had used his clout to keep the authorities away from the kill zone and provide the drone. He let Frank have the honors of actually handling the drone with a game console looking gadget to take out the mercs and the vehicles.

It was his birthday after all.

Castle and Fury were carrying the M4 fitted with the 40 mil launcher. Both with 90 round rum mags.

Wilson had a SAW machine gun in 5,56 with a 200 round box magazine.

Shotgun was carrying twin SPAS automatic shotguns.

Trayce was carrying a 9mm Calico submachine with 100 round magazine.

Black Widow had an MP-5K in 9mm.

Deathblow had the most interesting primary weapon: an M-60, the door gunner model, fitted with an MM1 grenade launcher underneath. He was also wearing his war paint: two crimson parallel vertical lines on his face. The distance between the lines was the same that the distance between his eyes.

Elektra was wearing a crimson skintight tight outfit, not unlike Widow's. It was body armor. A gift from Widow. She carried twin fully automatic Glock 18s. And shuriken. And her sais. She'd said she didn't need any more. She was sure the enemy would be generous enough to donate weapons. The others agreed.

Deathblow was smiling. Trayce noticed. She asked:

"You happy about this, Cray? Killing people makes you smile?"

"It's not that. Not exactly," Cray said, "This is what I'm good at. Combat. This is what I'm built for. I'm here with a serious crew of bad-asses that have my back and we're gonna end some very nasty people. I don't enjoy killing. But this, this feels like...home."

"Reminds you of Team 7?" Fury said.

Castle knew of Team 7. He heard of them, at least. Though they were many years after his time in the service. Specialists from different branches of the military brought together to pull off impossible jobs.

"Yeah," Cray said, "Exactly. Through the good times and bad, best crew I ever worked with."

Cray looked at his allies. "Though this little squad might be somethin' else."

They approached the breach. The Punisher and Deathstroke exchanged a glance and a nod. They all put on ear protection.

And the war started.

Cray, Castle and Fury started with 40 mil frags. Shotgun joined in with some high explosive shotgun shells. Then the others joined in. Deathstroke offered some sustained fired while Widow, Trayce and Elektra split up, taking advantage of the confusion to do some up close work.

While checking his targets and his ammo, Castle sometimes took a second to watch his allies.

Elektra seemed to dance around her opponents. She as here and there and the enemy never knew where she would strike from. With guns, sais, shuriken, or well placed kicks to the throat.

Widow and Trayce were surgeon like and precise. Seeking cover. Never using more than two double taps per target.

Shotgun's shotguns were booming like thunder, blasting thugs and bosses into hamburger.

Fury also seemed right at home, matter-of-factly dispatching tangos with his rifle. Well placed bursts or rifle stock strikes to the neck. And sometimes, some nasty insult.

Then, Castle saw Cray stand on the solid oak conference table and heard him bellow: "Get some! Get some!" while hosing down gangsters with his M-60 with near gleeful abandon. Cray seemed like a fearless hard charger.

Wilson lost his weapon at some point and had his large broadsword out. Castle saw him twirl that thing around and behead three men, dismember four and kick a man's head clean off with a roundhouse.

Soon, The Punisher was down to his secondary weapons: twin Uzis. Not exactly precision tools but it wasn't really needed in this context. At one point, Wilson had twin .50 Action Desert Eagles. Deathstroke and Punisher were back to back. After a few shots and eight dead mobsters:

"How ya like your birthday party, Frank?" Wilson asked, throwing his empty pistols into two thug throats and pulling out two more Eagles.

"It's productive," Castle answered emptying the last of rounds from his Uzis into four men. "Many of these scum have been out of my reach." He let go of an Uzi quickly and reloaded the other one.

"You're welcome," Wilson said, with a smile in his voice.

And the killing went on...