And we wonder whether his precise response to another heist—shooting a bushel of robbers singlehandedly while crooks use Bullet as human shield and H's partner, Boy Sweat Dave sits in the driver's seat of the armored car, paralyzed with fear—is a harbinger of heroic deeds to come, or the opening salvo in an inside-man strategy that will reveal H as a monster of greed and bloodlust.
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Nor are Boy Sweat Dave or the ex-mercenaries Carlos , Sam and Jackson , whose decadent Mercury astronaut handsomeness is chef's-kiss perfect , or a mysterious law enforcement bigwig known only as The King who finds out that H is tearing through the underworld and decides to stand back and let him do his thing.