What if......?
    Bolan stopped for Skyline
    A funny little story by me!

    The Man from Ice slid behind a downed table, automatically hammering a fresh clip into the Beretta 93-R. His guts coiled tightly, he wondered how long he could hold out. Giambelli shouted from across the room, "Hey Executioner--It is you , isn't it? We're gonna even the score here tonight." Yeah, Bolan thought, not likely. Suddenly thunder erupted from Bolan's position. The hardmen immediately ducked for cover. Then it hit them. "Hey Bolan, we haven't smelled anything that bad since Nick here got a dead opossum caught on the muffler of the Boss' car." A small chatter of laughter came from the other two men.

    Damn, Bolan thought. He knew it was a mistake right after he finished that bowl of Skyline Chili, now he had to live with the possibility that it would be his undoing. Pain laced through his guts, the chili making it's way down to the exit chute. Unclipping a frag grenade from the webbing of his black suit, Bolan counted down and launched the present into the nest of mafia scum. As soon as the explosion went off, he was up and running. Flicking the selector of his Beretta to 3-shot mode, he stitched the first hardguy from the neck to groin. Still trying to get a lock on the Executioner, Bolan added another group of silent death to the falling man, watching his head erupt into a red ball of grease. Then he tracked to Giambelli. The man was down and wounded, his leg hanging like a rubber chicken, all crazy angles.

    The Executioner kicked the Ingram from his hands and started dragging him to the front lawn, taking in the third hardguy's fate at the hands of the frag grenade on the way by. He knew it would be less than a minute before the the C-4 would finish this little mafia hideout, along with all of the cocaine that they had intended to sell for big profit. When he reached a safe distance, he began to question Giambelli.

    Before he could answer, the house went up behind him. Fire raged at the sky, and they could feel the concussion of the explosion pass them. One more down, Bolan thought grimly, wishing that the toilet had been spared.

    Back!