Leaving the Suicide bar with the Paris Knight in their "custody," Spade and Castle were on their way to New York to see the famous entrepreneur Wilson Fisk, also known to some as the legendary Kingpin of Crime.

"Hey, Frank," said Spade. "What are we gonna do with that French piece of shit in the trunk once we get to New York?"

"That's a stupid fucking question," replied Castle. "And you call yourself a vigilante."

"No, I'm a vigilante," shot back Spade. "You're a trigger-happy son of a bitch psychopath."

"Takes one to know one."

"No shit. I'm damn proud of it, too."

NEW YORK, 7:39 AM

Fisk was loosening his long black tie when Wesley opened his office door.

"Mr. Kingpin, I have reports of the Snypa on his way here," reported Wesley.

"Really?" inquired Fisk.

"And that's not all, sir. It turns out that the Punisher is with him as well."

"The Punisher?" asked Fisk, eyes widening and turning to face Wesley. "Are you sure that it's the Punisher?"

"Yes, sir."

"Where are they now?!"

"At the Arkansas state border."

"Get the Russian and X-Plode there right away!"

LITTLE ROCK, ARKANSAS- 9:30 AM

Spade was on his motorcycle, following behind Castle's Camaro. The two vigilantes were being pursued by thugs in three pickups firing 5.7 MM submachine guns.

"You two ain't gonna get away so easily!"

Spade drew his 5.56 mm pistol. "Frank, go on ahead! I'll lead them away!"

Spade did a 180 and rode full speed right at his pursuers and fired at the thugs in the back of trucks. He took down the thugs in the first two trucks and set up to hit the last two thugs, but one of them appeared to be quicker on the trigger than Spade was. Spade fell off his bike and clenched his wounded arm in pain. The pickup turned around and prepared to finish the job. Spade got up and quickly moved off the road. He reached for his automatic shotgun in his back holster. The truck advanced and came bearing down on him, but he fired the buckshot into the pickup's wheels. The truck halted abruptly sending the driver out of the window and the two gunmen out of the cab to the ground. Spade dropped his shotgun and grabbed the driver, then put the 5.56 to his head. The driver's two friends aimed their guns.

"You won't leave here alive, Snypa!" said the driver. "So you might as well let me go."

"Drop 'em!" shouted Spade. "Put your fuckin' guns down or I blow your buddy's brains out and yours!"

The thugs laughed at Spade.

"Ha! You're in no position to make demands- you're fucked!"

"You think I'm bullshittin' with you fucks?!" roared Spade, pulling the trigger.

The blast of the 5.56 forced the truck driver's skull and brain to implode and be scattered all over the place.

"Hey, Jim, get that son of a bitch!"

Unfortunately, Jim wasn't fast enough and paid for it with his life.

"You're dead meat, Snypa! You killed my friend!" said the first thug, cocking his weapon.

"Hey, let's settle this hand-to-hand," said Spade. "That's how I did back in the day when I wanted to avenge someone."