Guess who's back? Back again? Sorry it's been so long, just had to deal with real life for a while. Playing around with another crossover here, hope y'all enjoy. And hope y'all haven't forgotten me.

/

Whitney sat down on the bench with a groan. "I get the fact this case is bigger than just Metropolis, and definitely bigger than Smallville, but why are we taking this guy to the state capital Bossman? Most of his crimes were committed right here in Metropolis, from this prison."

Clark shrugged, reaching for the body armor Metropolis PD leant to them. "We just follow orders from the higher ups Whit. And for us, that's pretty much everyone." Chuckling, he strapped the vest into place, pulling his uniform shirt over it.

Whitney sighed. "Fine. Just can't believe they're giving us the ball here."

"Well, weren't you quarterback for the region champs back in high school?"

Whitney threw him a look. "Yea, 'til some punk kid came along three years later and won the state title."

Clark smirked again. "I remember that kid… handsome guy."

Whitney laughed mockingly and stood. Reaching to the top of the locker to grab his vest, he noticed a pistol falling suddenly as he pulled the vest.

Just before he could grab it, a second hand shot from seemingly nowhere, catching the firearm before it slammed to the floor. Following the arm up, Whitney saw a gruff looking guy. He had several scars over his face, dark black hair and a very serious demeanor. "Good catch."

Standing back to full height, the man never took his stern eyes off Whitney. "You should be careful. When you stop respecting the firearm, people get hurt."

Whitney could only nod. "Yea. I usually don't make mistakes like that. Would have gotten me drilled in the Corp. Just kinda thrown off today, we had this whole protective detail thrown on us at the last minute."

The man's eyes narrowed slightly. "Corp?"

"Yea. Marine Corps, honorable discharge. Whitney Fordman." Extending his hand, he flashed his trademark grin at the tall, stern man.

His gaze not softening, the man shook Whitney's hand. "Frank Rook. Honorable discharge out of Desert Storm."

"A fellow Marine, nice to meet you." Nodding over his shoulder, Whitney continued. "This is my boss, Sheriff Kent."

Clark glanced up and nodded, standing quickly after he finished securing the leg guards they insisted all of them wear on top of the body armor. "Pleasure to meet you. Anyone who served is good people by me." Stretching his hand out to the man, Clark grinned.

Rook stared at the proffered hand for a moment before accepting, squeezing firmly. "Nice to meet you too Sheriff. Did you serve?"

Clark shook his head but was cut off by Whitney. "No, bossman here took a different route to the uniform. Small town kid, sees all the bad stuff going on in his hometown, goes off to school and majors in criminal justice, comes back and kicks out the corrupt sheriff before cleaning the whole town up. Then goes on to capture many bad guys, big and small, leading us to our former deputy today, Billy Edge."

Rook's eyes shot up to meet Clark's gaze again. "You're the sheriff of Smallville? You're the people who took down Morgan Edge, his son, even a Luthor who everyone thought was dead." Tilting his head slightly, Rook pulled another incident from his "files". "I believe you're name also came up in breaking up a foster home conspiracy, decades of child abuse no one stopped."

Whitney turned to Clark again, shocked. "When did that happen? I don't remember us doing that?"

Clark coughed once, not looking back to his deputy. "It's not one of my… most publicized moments. It didn't happen in this state actually."

For the first time, Rook's face softened. His lip curled up just slightly. "You're one of the good ones. Glad to know."

Shrugging, Clark put an arm over Whitney's shoulder. "Couldn't do it without my people."

Rook extended his hand to both the men again, stepping closer after Whitney had walked off hearing his name called. "Your vest is dipping in the middle." Tapping it with his knuckles, Clark heard a muffled thump on the metal plating. "There's supposed to be another plate in the front." Heading over to the closet with extra vests, Rook picked one up from the pile of unusables, pulling the metal plate out. Shoving it into place, he secured the backing again and nodded to Clark. "Be careful Sheriff. Lot of dangerous people out there."

Clark just nodded. "Believe me, I know. Be safe yourself."

Clark had almost reached the door before he suddenly had a thought. "Hey, are you on our detail…?" But looking around, he couldn't see Rook where he had been seconds earlier. Glancing around the locker room, he just shrugged. "Guess he's on another assignment."

/

William Edgar Morganton, aka Morgan Edge Jr., found himself marched out into the front lobby of the Metropolis Police station. He smiled at the men heading up the transfer team. "Boss, Whitney! It's great to see you guys. How are things back home?"

Clark just grinned in return. "Just fine Billy. How are things at your place? You and your roommate getting close?"

Billy's face twitched, but his smile didn't falter. "Everything's just fine Clark. How's your leg doing by the way? Heard you got a booboo a while back."

"I'm sure it's much better than your knee. I've heard those kinds of injuries take years to get over." Stepping closer, Clark signed the papers held out to him, taking official control of the transport of the prisoner. "Let's go, junior. You've got an appointment to keep." Gesturing to the men behind him, over half the group men who had worked with and been endangered by Billy, his group circled the prisoner and led him out the front doors. The media and some civilian groups were packed in around the steps of the station. Clark had the local police start making a path for them to reach the transport truck.

"Wow, nice to know I've got fans!" Billy shouted to his former boss.

Clark just shook his head. "Pretty sure a good many of them would stick the needle in your arm themselves, given half a chance. Now just shut up and get to the…"

The gunshot rang out loud through the air, even over the yelling of the people and the reporters looking for a quote. Lois Lane was near the front of the group and looked around to see where the shot had come from… but no one was brandishing a weapon in near sight. Turning back she was just in time to see Clark hit the steps, a smoking hole in his chest. "CLARK!"

The officers reacted immediately, drawing weapons and looking around for the shooter. Billy saw his chance. Gripping his hands together he slammed them up into the groin of one of the local officers in plain uniform. Grabbing his weapon Billy fired into the air repeatedly, sending the people all around into a panic, scrambling for safety. Shuffling as quickly as he could with bound legs, he pushed his way through the crowd, threatening people and causing more chaos.

Glancing back he only saw Clark on the ground, unmoving, with Lois and a medic at his side. Whitney was looking around the crowd, for him he had to guess. Crouching and slipping through the vehicles parked at the front of the station, Billy hurried across the street to an alleyway, grinning at his good fortune. One of the contracts he put out must have taken the opportunity, and killed one of his biggest problems at the same time.

He didn't see the black haired man on the building opposite the station house with the still smoking rifle, watching as he ducked into the alley.

Running through the alley, Billy was looking all around for whoever it was that helped him escape. He didn't notice the thin loop of cable that slipped around his neck until a few steps later. Reaching up to grab it, he was suddenly pulled back and then up off his feet, just as someone in black dropped from the fire escape he was hanging off of by his neck. Gasping for air, he looked the man over, trying to beg for air.

"Hello Edge. We've never met. But this meeting is long past due." The man was in full tactical gear with the crest of Metropolis PD on the sleeve. "I've been following you and your father in the news. You played the system, but then you showed your true colors. You could have gotten a lot easier sentencing if you had just kept your cool, why'd you take the chance?"

Billy struggled, trying to get the air to beg, but he just struggled more.

The man shook his head. "You did it because it's in your nature. You're a criminal. It's part of who you are. And you'll keep doing it as long as you're able, won't you?" Raising his hand that held the other end of the cable, the man let Billy down enough for his toes to touch the ground below him.

Finding some relief, Billy gasped in oxygen as quickly as he could, grunting. "You son of a bitch I'm gonna…" His words were cut off again as he was suddenly yanked back up by the rope.

"You've said enough. Now it's time for this to end." The man pulled a pistol from his belt, aiming it between Billy's eyes.

"ROOK! Stop, now!"

Rook looked past Billy to see Sheriff Kent standing at the end of the alley with his weapon drawn, aimed at him. He spun Billy around as he was hanging, still keeping the gun pressed to the back of his head. "Good to see you up and around Sheriff. Nothing personal."

Clark glanced down at the torn fabric of the vest he still had on, and the bent metal plating. He chuckled a bit, but it sounded more pained than humorous. "Yea well, you could have just asked. You know I can't let you kill him, not like this. The courts are going to give him his justice."

Rook shook his head. "No they won't. Money's already passed hands. The judge is in deep to some of Edge's dummy companies on gambling debts and loans. Some of the evidence is already missing. In 36 hours he'll be out on a technicality, and you won't be able to touch him Sheriff. This is justice."

Clark shook his head. "It… I don't… even if what you're saying is true, we'll get him. He'll mess up again. This isn't the right way."

Rook sighed loudly. "You've killed before Sheriff. I've seen the files. You've killed, and not just once or twice."

"That was different. Those were armed men, they knew what they were getting into. It wasn't cold blood, not like this. This isn't justice!" Clark took a step, aiming the gun a little tighter, staring straight between Rook's eyes down the sights. "You know this isn't justice."

Rook's expression finally shifted. His lip curled just a bit, grinning at the younger man. "I wish I still had that idealism. And that faith in the system. I bet you were one hell of a boy scout."

Clark didn't move. "This is the last chance I'm giving you. You're already going to lose your badge over this, don't make me take away more."

Rook shifted to the side, giving Clark a more open shot. Billy twisted still, gasping for air that wasn't coming. "I don't have a badge. Not anymore." Reaching to the shoulder of the vest, Rook snapped the catches away, letting it fall to the ground by his side. Gripping at the middle of the uniform shirt, he yanked, showing what was beneath.

Clark's eyes narrowed, as he looked closer, then widened slightly. "Not possible."

Billy felt himself turned to face Rook a bit and noticed the shirt. Amidst the struggles, "oh shit" was easily readable on his lips.

Rook reached over toward the wall of the alley, looping the cord around a support arm for the fire escape Billy hung from. "Time to make a choice Sheriff. Catch me? Or save the murderer? Your choice." Yanking on the cord to secure it, Rook fired the gun once, and took off running.

Wincing at the gunshot, Clark looked up expecting to see Billy's face turned inside out, but he was still alive, gasping and turning purple. "Shit." Rushing over, he kept looking for Rook, but there was no sign of him. Holstering his weapon Clark grabbed Billy around his knees and lifted, using the other arm to pull the cord from around his neck. "Don't think for one minute I don't want to let you keep swinging you bastard." Setting him on his feet, Clark kept a firm grip on Billy's arm so he couldn't slip away.

But after he took the moments to call in to the other offices, he noticed Billy was still gurgling. "The rope's gone, you can breathe now. I'm not falling for it Billy." When blood started running from his mouth, Clark realized something was amiss. Leaning in to check his neck, something behind Billy caught Clark's eye.

A slender knife handle was buried in Billy's back to the hilt, below his left shoulder a bit. "Oh dammit." Setting him on his front, Clark ripped the prison outfit a bit more to check the wound. Blood flowed out from around the handle and he knew if he pulled it out more it would flow harder. "Son of a bitch, I didn't even see him do this." Grabbing his radio he called for the medical team again, putting a rush order on it.

Billy stopped gurgling twenty seconds before the EMTs reached him.

/

The team leaders from MPD and the Smallville Sheriff's Department were in Maggie Sawyer's office. She was on the phone with the state capitol, giving an update on what they knew. Hanging up, Sawyer rubbed the bridge of her nose. "So, we had a fake in our building, almost lost a fellow officer in an escape attempt, we lost a prisoner, only to find him but be too late to save him after the fake assassinated him in cold blood. Does that about cover it all?"

Clark simply nodded.

Another voice rang out. "We didn't lose anybody, the rednecks you gave this detail to did. I could have told you they would screw this up. In fact, I did tell you they would."

Clark turned to glare at Turpin. "I didn't see you catching up to him, and you weren't the one shot in the chest Turpin."

"Detective Turpin, Kent. Detective. I earned that title, I didn't kiss babies and sell pies to swing an election from yokels for my job like some of us here."

Clark was on his feet before Turpin could even blink. "One more damn word out of you right now and I swear I will beat you into the ground so badly you'll be short enough for me to give my mom as a lawn gnome, got me Turpin?"

"ENOUGH! BOTH OF YOU!"

The men turned to see Captain Sawyer glaring at both of them. "Detective Turpin, sit down and shut up. You too Sheriff Kent! This is getting us nowhere."

In the corner of the office Whitney chuckled softly to himself. "Not me getting yelled at for once." Sawyer glared at him and he made a zipper motion on his mouth, going back to being completely silent.

Clark slumped back down in the chair, his thoughts racing. He barely picked up something Maggie said. "I'm sorry, what?"

Rolling her eyes, she repeated. "I said I'm glad that we didn't lose you in the escape attempt."

Clark just shook his head. "I wasn't in any danger. He knew I was the best target for the distraction."

"Why do you say that Sheriff Kent?"

Clark pulled the front of his t-shirt out a bit, staring at the massive bruise starting at his sternum. "How many plates do your TAC vests usually hold?"

Maggie raised a brow, confused at his question. "Our vests? Why?"

"Just… how many do they come with usually?"

Maggie stood slowly and crossed her office to a door. Opening it she pulled her own vest out in case of emergencies around the station. Setting it on her desk she unsnapped the holding and pulled out two heavy metal plates, letting them land on top of the vest with a thump. "Our vests come with two heavy duty plates, able to stop most anything a crack head or desperate thug with a gun would be carrying."

Clark sighed and reached for the shot up vest on the floor next to his chair. Stepping in front of her desk he pulled out three bent plates, dropping them on her desk. The bullet had done the most damage to the top, piercing through it, and a smaller hole could be found in the middle plate. The third plate was bent but not pierced.

Captain Sawyer's eyes widened as she picked up the top plate, looking through the hole. "How did… how did you know? When did you put the third plate in?"

Clark shook his head. "Not me. Frank Rook. He told me my vest was missing a plate in the locker room before the detail started. He put the third one in my vest. That's why he took the shot on me. He knew I'd survive."

Turpin tossed one of the plates back down noisily. "So why would some scumbag hitman go out of the way to make sure he didn't kill a… cop… just so he could get to kill a prisoner?"

Clark walked across the room, crouching and rooting through the file cabinets. "It's not his MO. He doesn't kill the innocent, or clean cops."

Captain Sawyer crossed her arms. "You talk like you know this man. Have you met Rook before Sheriff?"

Picking out one file, Clark stood again and came back to the desk, shaking his head. "No. But we all know him. Or know of him." Opening the file he turned it around and dropped it on the desk facing her. "Frank Rook. Should have figured it out from the name and the face."

Maggie Sawyer looked at the file and blood left her face immediately. She covered a gasp with her hand, shocked to her core for the first time in years.

The file of Frank Castle stared back at her.

/

There you go. I hope this one will bring out some good storytelling. And there will be a lot of Clois, I just wanted to set the tone quickly.

And for the record, my Frank Castle is based off Thomas Jane, the best Punisher in film to date.