Hey all! I know it's been a while, a long while, since I've posted, I've been busy with university, but I've been meaning to write some Punisher one-shots and I thought I'd post a couple to get back in the game
Hope you all enjoy!
Frank came home, covered in blood, to the dog yipping at his heels.
"Down." He waved vaguely at it as he set his guns down on the kitchen counter and removed his vest with a groan.
"Frank- Jesus, again? Is any of it yours?" Karen said as greeting as she rushed in from her office, that they'd set up in the dining room.
"I'm fine, relax." He shrugged, taking a second to stretch his shoulders, and Karen sighed.
"Alright. I made soup since I didn't know when you were getting home. Do I want to know whose blood that is?" She asked as she went to the fridge, pulling out a container of soup she'd saved.
"Probably not." He took it from her gently to reheat it himself. "What're you doing up so late?"
"Working. I have a story due first thing tomorrow, and I can't pin down my hook."
"Get to it then." He nudged her away, and she rubbed his arm before going back to her office to work.
She could hear him putting his guns away through the wall between her office and what had been a third bedroom, now turned into Frank's Punisher room.
She barely heard him come in a half hour later, save for the quiet sound of him eating, as he looked over the evidence she'd gathered on her story wall.
"Your story's gonna be wrong by morning."
"Is that so?" She said, half in a daze as she concentrated on her work.
"He's dead."
She looked up. Frank was calmly eating his soup, blood washed off now as he looked at a picture of the primetime news producer she'd been preparing an exposé on, covering his child prostitution habits and tendency to have people's lives ruined to keep his secrets.
"What do you mean he's dead?" She already knew the answer.
"I got him and a few others at some shitty party they were throwing. Some big deal or something, celebrating with some 14-year-old girls. Girls are talking to the police now."
"God damn it Frank." She sighed, rubbing her forehead.
"You angry I got a shithead like that off the streets?"
"No, I'm frustrated that now because he's dead this exposé goes from dethroning a powerful man who's done a lot of harm to preying on the legacy of a media titan, trying to smear him after his death now that there's no risk."
"You got your evidence, you did all the work. Publish anyway. Just… rephrase it a bit. Say you're reminding folks that the world is better off without him."
She sighed. "Yeah, yeah. Make some coffee?"
"You got it ma'am." He left to the kitchen, and she sighed with a soft smile as she got back to work rewriting her article.
Three hours and several drafts later, she looked up to see Frank sitting in the chair in the corner, scrolling through his phone calmly.
"Shouldn't you be asleep?" She asked, pushing her hair out of her face.
He lowered his phone to his pocket, settling into the chair. "Nah. Adrenaline, you know? Anyway, I thought you might need help." He shrugged.
"Alright. Read this, see how it feels." She rolled her chair back, and he stood to lean on her desk, muttering the words to himself as he read over the article.
"Looks good to me. A bit easy on him, but they won't print you if you go harsher, right?" He half-joked.
She let out a half-chuckle in response. "Right. I'll take it like that, get it in tomorrow first thing."
"You mean today first thing? It's 2 in the morning already."
"Tomorrow only becomes today when I've slept." She stood, closing her laptop. "Night Frank."
"Night Karen." He followed her out as far as the living room, and let her go on to bed while he looked through the news a little longer, checking the coverage of his night's work to make sure he hadn't been spotted.