Black Jack grinned and lowered his hands while Flannigan pointed his rifle and demanded a name. “You can call me whatever you like handsome. But most people call me Black Jack.” He answered coolly, adding a subtle wink that either repulsed the armed man or made him very uncomfortable. It was then that he overheard Henry alerting his comrades to the situation. He wasn’t as bothered by the fact that he would have more armed guards to deal with, than he was of Henry’s disapproval of his outfit. “Ridiculous Costume?!” He protested. “Obviously a keen fashion sense is wasted on someone like you.“ Crossing his arms, he cocked a brow and gave Henry a judgmental look from head to toe. “Black on black on black isn’t exactly trend setting you know.”

After receiving instructions into his earpiece, Henry exchanged some dialogue with Flannigan which Black Jack could barely pick up and then without much warning they both opened fire. When the first shots rang out, Black Jack sprinted towards them, vaulting into a cartwheel and then a series of back flips, making it even more difficult to land a hit on such an agile and unpredictable target. Once he landed at a comfortable range, he immediately hit Flannigan with an upwards kick to the jaw followed by a spinning kick to the chest, leaving him stunned. Turning towards Henry, he grabbed the man’s arm and gave it a painful twist, causing Henry to grunt and release the weapon he was holding. Leaning forward, Black Jack hooked his leg like a scorpion’s tail and slammed the sole of his boot into the Henry’s face, rendering him unconscious, the same as his counterpart. “Enjoy your nap boys.” 

He wasn’t out of the woods yet though, as three more armed guards quickly emerged from the rear of vehicle. “No one told me it was going to be a party.” He teased, to which the guards responded with a barrage of bullets. Leaping sideways into an aerial cartwheel, Blackjack avoided their gunfire. He easily jumped onto the hood of the armored truck, then climbed onto the vehicle’s roof while the sound of bullets ricocheting off metal rang out into the night. Quickly somersaulting of the truck’s roof, he extended his left foot to strike one of the guards in the face, taking him out without much effort. Landing in a spider-like crouch, he immediately swept the nearest guard off his feet for a nasty fall then quickly fired two rounds from his plasma pistol to knock out the remaining guard who groaned and fell into a heap against the side of the truck.

With a sigh Black Jack re holstered his weapon and began making his way to the rear of the vehicle. As he motioned to open the double doors, he mused to himself. “Now let’s see what’s behind door number one.” But at that moment, The Executioner kicked the doors open and leapt out, his hulking form relieving the truck of its excess weight. Black Jack saw that The Executioner was encased in full body armor, carrying both the briefcase he was hired to retrieve and a loaded weapon. “So let me get this straight. Those guys were riding in a truck with a walking soup can but I’m wearing a ridiculous outfit?” He teased.

‘You might want to listen to what I've got to say, friend...’ The Executioner warned.

Black Jack grinned, raising a plucked brow. “Oh I always make it a point to listen to what people have to say, especially when they’re heavily armed and three times my size…but can we make this quick? I sort of need that briefcase you’re carrying.”