Disclaimer:
I own none of these characters. It's fine by me if people disagree with how I interpret how these characters, but please be respectful about it. Personally, I think the Punisher is a tragic figure, sometimes full of rage, but just generally so lacking in hope or any emotion, really.
Review? Only if you want to. I'm just posting this to see if anyone actually wants to read more. :)
He took a deep breath of the wintery New York air. It was refreshing. Better than being in that diner, with the stench of grease and unwashed bodies hanging in the atmosphere. He scanned the area, as he almost always did when leaving an area. Military habits died hard, if at all.
Punks talked smack on the corner. He caught the colorful language and wondered about their mothers--they seemed to have a disrespect for women, judging from their words. Other than that, they looked relatively harmless; he did not see any weapons on them. No tell tale outline of a Glock or Beretta anywhere. They were just kids that listened to too much rap music. He itched to teach them some respect for women. Teach them with the back of his hand, let them know what it felt like to be "bitch" slapped.
An old woman walked down the sidewalk, she came to both the group of potential miscreants and Frank. Bitterness turned her mouth into a scowl nearly as profound as the Punisher's. She had to use a cane and he bet that she knew how to use it. He noted that the punks got out of her way as she scurried by them.
"Yeah, you better get out of my way, you good for nothing bastards." She waggled the cane at them. She glowered at Frank. "That goes for you too. Stay out of my way or I'll shove this up your Italian ass." Either she didn't notice or care about the white skull on his shirt.
He stayed out of her path, more out of a detached sort of amusement than of the risk of impalement by cane. The world had made her hard. Frank respected that.
He walked down the street, his senses sifting through the white noise.
Hunted. That was the first word that sprang to his mind. He felt hunted, as if there were someone keeping an eye on him. Whoever it was, he suspected, seemed smart enough to give themselves away. Maybe more than one person...he thought about that prospect. He didn't like it. Not one bit.
His eyes carefully scanned the people rushing about him. Nothing too suspicious. Could be my nerves are too tightly wound. Could be.
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The old lady shuffled on her way and ducked into an alley when she heard the cellphone in her purse ring. She pulled it out and shifted from the image of a old woman, to a blue-skinned one, to a young and attractive man. Goddamnit. Good time to call, Mystique thought with a mental snarl.
"Yeah, I saw Castle. Huge son of a bitch. He'll be tough to bring down." She said, then waited for her 'employer' to go on about how he wanted Frank brought in. Alive. "Well, I have one good way to break him down. I'll give you one hint: Maria."
His dark voice bore the traces of an accent that she couldn't readily identify, which was quite a neat feat since Mystique would be considered worldly by any standard. Mystique didn't know who he was. She knew only one thing; He had her 14-year old foster daughter---and he was doing who knows what with her. Even as Mystique thought about it, her blood pressure rose dangerously and she had a sudden image of steam pouring out of her ears and her skin taking on a nice purple hue.
After she got Castle for him, she was going to hunt whoever did this and kill him good. Preferably by slicing him into one inch meat squares. Raven vowed on her holy blue ass that she would do worse things if she found out her employer abused Rogue in any way.
Mystique hated being coerced into anything, possibly even more than those horrible flatscans who presumed they were better than mutants. She understood why some mob boss would want Castle taken out, and might have done it willingly if the monetary price had been right. The skills she possesed, she did not sell for cheap. But being manipulated pissed her off to no end. /Especially by someone too goddamned miserly to hire me./
She fumed as she, or he as Raven currently appeared to be, flagged down a cab. Raven had an ambush to plan. She also was going to gather all the information she could about Frank, make a few calls and threaten many a man's set of balls. He was not the kind of prey one pursued willy-nilly, even using shock 'n' awe tactics.
The cab dropped her off at a warehouse. She slipped inside and dropped the disguise as she passed the makeshift bedroom that belonged to Rogue. The blue My Chemical Romance posters hung on the walls and she saw assorted CD's scattered on her bed, just laid out waiting patiently for Rogue.
/Rogue. I'll get you back. I promise. And I'll never complain if you have one of your emo songs blaring. I miss you./ Raven sighed. She'd never been a maternal kind of woman, but the young girl had stolen her way into Raven's heart. Of course, it didn't hurt that Rogue was a potential mutant, one whose power hadn't been activated yet. Or so Irene said. It hurt to think of Irene, so she continued down the improvised hall to her office.