When a wolf leaves the pack, he lives only as long as he can kill by
himself quicker and surer than any pack he runs up against. Meet a man
beyond either forgiveness or vengeance. Meet the man they call The Lone
Wolf. Better meet him now. The way he lives, he can't live much longer.
After the bloody business up in Harlem, when the turf blew wide open and
the world seemed to end in flames, Wulff was taken into protective
custody. It was O.K.: it wasn't his first time in jail. Not nearly, not
in a life like Wulff's. At least the accommodations were clean and the
meals regular, what more could a man like Wulff ask after they smashed
his fiance and made his life a burnt-out cinder?
But Wulff wasn't even safe in prison. So he forced his way out - it's
safer when you're on the run. Always going where the trouble is, he made
his way to Detroit, that chrome city that turns out such shiny cars. The
trouble was that the cars were coming off the conveyor belt with uncut
junk in their innards. And even more troublesome was the fact that Wulff
knew all of it.
