Chapter 1: Do you believe in ghost stories?
Tuesday, October 28, 2014, 5:52 pm.
Haddonfield, Illinois.
3 days before Halloween.
The Lincoln Town Car approaches slowly to 707 Meridian Avenue, the fall had approached swiftly, the brown and yellowing leaves falling slowly, the streets practically empty except for a few people almost rushing to get indoors.
The driver, Harry Cosswell, has been a cabby for just 8 months. The town of Haddonfield is slowly healing after the nightmare it suffered sometime ago. Looking at the ominous structure fenced in with a large yellow and block signed reading 'CLOSED BY ORDER OF HADDONFIELD SHERRIFS DEPARTMENT. The bordered up windows and receding paint as well as nearly 3 foot tall grass, make the feeling all the more foreboding. Harry swallows sharply and wipes a tiny bead of sweat from his mustache, turning to his passenger. "You sure about this? I mean, it's your money pal. But I wouldn't go in there. You kn-"
"Look pal, do your job and drive; if I gave a damn about your opinion I'll think of one, ok?" snarked James Dillman to the taxi driver cutting him off. He was new to the world of real estate, but he was a bully all his life using his rich kid status to buy the services of the bigger kids. He comes from a wealthy family; Howard, an unscrupulous father who would save a dollar risking the life of workers and Eleanor, an IRS agent mother who could care less of anyone whose name didn't end with hers. He also has a sister but she's more interested in saving the whales or some shit like that as James always says to his 'friends'. He decided to invest in the small town of Haddonfield just a few hundred miles from his home of Chicago. The real estate business there is next to dead following harrowing murders less than a decade ago. The victims were mostly teenagers. e He liuogfuwehguirerggri
"Nothing left to say? Good. Wait here." said James opening the door to the Lincoln and grabbing his briefcase.
"Wait here? You're crazy pal! Pay me my damn money! I'm not waiting around in front of the fucking Myers house!" Harry scolded.
"You wanna get paid, you wait here. Cost of doing business." James said leering into the front passenger side window.
"You little piece of shit!" Harry said putting the car in park and opening the drivers side door.
"Hey wait a minute now. You-" James started speaking but Harry was already at the door finishing pulling James out by the collar.
"You have any idea what the hell went on here! The people murdered! Kids man! FUCKING KIDS! Now pay up so I can get home to mine!" Harry said, pushing James onto the door of the cab, closing it.
"Ok, ok buddy relax! I'll pay double! TRIPLE! Just wait for me here man just 15 minutes, 20 tops man!" James said, raising his hands in defense pulling his face away from Harry who was physically more intimidating.
Harry didn't say anything. He slowly let him go.
"You got 10 minutes. 10. One second more and I'm driving outta here. Alone. I'll hold this as collateral." said Harry grabbing the briefcase.
"…fine. 10 minutes." James said walking towards the nearly condemned houses fence.
"And then I'll have your piece of shit job for touching me." James sneered to himself, then looking back at Harry as he got back into his cab. He waved and smiled to Harry, who just rolled his eyes and raised the windows.
James fixed his collar and opened the gate using a key he paid off a local deputy for. The rusty lock to a few tried but the lock popped open. He removed and tossed it aside then lifted the handle and pushed the gate open, the tall grass slightly fighting back. He started walking up to the house, the feeling of dread slowly creeping up on him, the horribly looking façade the real estate nightmare if you had a conscience. James was intent on making a killing. One way or another. He walked up the wooden steps, the wood bending and creaking under his weight. Looking to his left and to his right, he walked up to the door and put his hand on the handle.
The moment he touched it, Harry hit the cars horn, scaring James into almost peeing himself.
He turned around effectively started falling to the ground, landing onto something soft and moist that wasn't dirt. He stood up and cleaned himself up as best he could then looked at Harry snicker holding up his hand saying 5, mouthing the words '5 minutes left, bitch.'
James didn't do anything back. He slapped his hands against his pants 3 or 4 more times before turning around and kicking the door as hard as he could. It still didn't move. Now visibly angry, James picked up a large broken piece of wood and used it to hit the door once before it finally just opened ever so slightly. James heavily, putting his hand out and peered into the dark house as the door creaked open slowly, eyeing the door handle, holding the large piece of wood in front of him as if a form of defense, he grabbed the handle and pushed the door open as wide as he could, standing in the doorway.
Harry looked from his cab as James disappeared into the house through them open doorway as a glimmer of sunlight bounced back from the rearview window as sun set behind him. He turned away from the house, looked at his watch and whispered, '4 minutes rich boy. Hurry the fuck up…", as he took his newspaper and flipped to the sports section.
Harry didn't notice as James disappeared slowly into the house the dark house as lone shape stood by the window of the second story of the house, looking down through the boarded up window.
As Harry read his newspaper, he too disappeared into the house to tend to his guest…
James walked ever slowly into the house, the dust covering old furniture; animal feces and other types of excrement all over the place. Home sweet shit hole.
"Jeezuz fuck this place is disgusting." James said, grabbing his cell phone and punching a number he had on speed dial. After a few rings the person on the other end picked up.
"Hey! Wow, yeah I made it. What a shit hole!" James spat over the speaker as he used his foot to kick a box across the floor, walking towards the kitchen.
He walked around opening some blinds to several windows as he listened to the person on the other end. "I told you, I don't believe in some stupid faery tales! Get over it! The guy is DEAD! He was shot like a hundred times or some shit by like 50 cops!" James praised over the cell as he kept opening blinds but behind them were just boards covering the window.
"…jeez, fine. If you're out, you're out." James said, running his fingers through his hair. "I'm gonna turn this place around, alright? I'm going to own this fucking town in the next 10 years urban legend or not." He suddenly felt a sense of panic as he looked out the kitchen door and noticed the front door was closed, the sunlight slowly disappearing from the cracks of the boarded up windows and bottom of the door.
He began to shake uncontrollably, sweat covering his forehead and brow.
The sound of wood creaking behind him is all he needed to motivate him to run a full sprint to the door and start pulling at with as much force as he needed.
It wasn't budging. Another pull and another. Nothing.
Another sound of wood creaking?
"BEEEEEEEEEEEEP!" came the honk of the cab.
Time was up.
With one last effort the door swung open and hit the wall and James ran out the door, full sprint towards the gate. He didn't stop. He went through the open fence door and to the cab. He stopped at the door and breathed heavily, panting a sigh of relief.
Harry look at him almost feeling sorry for him. "Thought I was gonna leave ya huh? Here." Harry said, offering a bottle of water to James.
James reluctantly takes it, unbuttoning his collar opening it almost immediately. "Thanks. Take me back to the motel will ya?" James told Harry as he entered the cab looking back at the house one last time, the front door closed. He looked down at his clothes; filthy. His hands, filthier. The place was disgusting.
Looking back one last time, he takes a swig of water as the car starts to roll making a u-turn.
"Was it everything you thought' it'd be?" Harry asked without looking back.
James didn't say anything. Maybe this was a bad idea after all. Maybe he can try somewhere else. Maybe Louisiana or even Texas? The thought quickly left his mind when he saw a campaign sign reading, 'Re-elect Raymond Hopewell for Mayor! Haddonfield's Ray of Hope!'.
The sign made him sick. Raymond Hopewell. The son of a bitch stole Gianna Vasquez from him some time ago in college just before graduation. "The slimeball. After carrying him through all 4 fucking years, paying the teachers off out of my pocket and getting him the best blow of his life, that's how he does me?" James says to himself just over a whisper.
"Well, Ray, I'm gonna take over your little shit town and make it my personal little toilet you fucking asshole." James said through his teeth.
"What's that?", Harry asked, making the right turn away from Meridian Avenue and away from the old Myers house.
"Huh? Nothing. Forget it. Hey look, about earlier…sorry. It's just I didn't know ok? I'm trying to make it out on my own. Without mommy and daddys help ya know?" James lied through his teeth, ever the snake in the grass.
Harry turned slightly to look at James, who smiled lightly at him, his disheveled appearance helping him to get Harry to believe him.
Harry turned back to the road.
"…it's alright kid. Emotions run high around here when it comes to the Myers house. A lot of pain still running its course. Families torn apart. My old friend…"
Harry's voice drifted off as James leaned his head back on the car seat thinking back to the last 15 minutes. Fifteen minutes. That entire ordeal from getting out of the car to getting back in had taken just 15 minutes. His eyes drifted far away as he closed them, starting to fall asleep.
Just before falling asleep one last thought that ran though his head…
"Why did I close the door behind me?"
Chapter 2: Don't Fall
Eight hundred miles east in New York City, the fall came quickly, the summer heat a distant memory. The beach days and walks in the park were over. Holding hands while rollerblading with loved ones in Central Park are over. Bar b ques, summer loving, all over.
The cold has taken over.
Frank Castle wouldn't have it any other way. He sat motionless in his self-made sniper nest, a few booby traps set up around the area for those 'just in case' scenarios. To the untrained eye, the top of the building was just another 12 story building that's rent is entirely too expensive and only for the super rich or a criminal. Or both.
Peering through the scope of his .308 Winchester bolt action sniper rifle, the man known formerly as Frank Castle places the reticle over each of his targets; across the street, on the loading area of the high class Hakkasan restaurant on 311 W 43rd St. the 4 Asian men stood outside, fixing their expensive suits and rubbing their hands together to keep warm, a large pile of trash outside of the collection bin. Their boss was on her way for a surprise inspection. Hidea Kojina, also known as the Fāngzhōu zi de yíshuāng, The Widow of The Fang. Castle killed him 3 months earlier. Along with her 3 sons. In the same explosion. Castle missed her because she was in Russia brokering a deal to have Chinese heroin shipped there as well. Tonight, the man the crime world knows as The Punisher will all but cripple the heroin trade to Eastern Europe.
The feeling of unease suddenly griped The Punisher. The feeling someone was behind him.
"Ah ah ah…to late Franky. We don't want my sai to accidently find it's way through your spine now do we?", said the unmistakable voice of Elektra Natchios, a world known assassin and one time lover of Castle. A master ninja, Elektra is probably one of the few people that doesn't posses super human powers that could match The Punisher in hand to hand combat. When she doesn't have an edge. Right now she clearly has an edge.
Without moving a muscle or taking his eyes of his target, Frank finally spoke.
"What is it Elektra? I'm working." Frank shifting his left hand slightly forward to better grip his rifle.
"So am I. Sorry Frank. I'm here to protect that old hag." Said the trained assassins squatting down behind her former lover not moving the sai from just above The Punishers spine.
"How'd you get up here? I had the place mined?" Frank stated 'as-a-matter-of-factly turning his head slightly to her.
"The building over. The rooftop door was left wide open. Except for some really smelly hobo sleeping on the 10th story landing, it was even easier to sneak up behind you Frank. You're losing your edge Frank." the ninja assassin said, twirling the sai on Franks lower back sweet spot, just under his vest and over his tactical pants.
"That's the thing about sniping I've told you so many times Frank; it leaves your back wide open." She continued, this time squatting down and bringing her lips to Franks ear.
"No hard feelings but…but…uuuugh…" she suddenly felt dizzy, everything around her distorting. Then she went numb. The feeling in her hands dwindled and she felt incredibly light headed. In another moment, she lost all balance and dropped her sai, then started to fall. In blinding speed, Frank reaches over and pulls her, pinning her to the rooftop floor. She struggled but to no avail. She looks at him, almost shocked. How? How'd he do it? He's never caught me by surprise before.
"In case you're wondering how I did it, that smelly hobo was actually a mannequin I created with a motion sensor to trigger a little tetraodontidae gas grenade I cooked up. It's non fatale. No one ever climbs to the rooftop of that building during the night. And this area isn't known to have hobos either. I wasn't going to risk hurting an innocent either. You'll probably get the best sleep of your life from it. " Frank said, loosening his grip, gently placing her against the pack he brought with him. Elektra smiled, realizing she's the one that's lost her edge; Frank Castle had never taken her by surprise, let alone by misdirection. The man had evolved, learned. Something she's going to need to do.
Going back to his rifle, Castle went back to business, the 3 vehicle convoy arriving. Elektra tried to move but to no avail. The poisonous gas she had breathed all but made her cripple. She managed to rotate herself just enough to see Frank go to work.
From her point of view, she could hear a voice cackle in Cantonese from a small walkie-talkie on Franks hip. "Tā dàodá! Bié wéinán zìjǐ" "She arrives! Don't embarrass yourselves!"He set up a way to listen to them. He's so smart she thought, her eyelids getting heavy.
The center vehicle housed his target; the Rolls Royce limousine stretching out almost half the city block. From the drivers' side as well as 5 other doors excited 5 large men wearing suits and openly carrying MP5 submachine guns. After looking around a few seconds, the woman known as the Widow of The Fang excited from the last door on the passenger side.
Elektras blinks were slowing more and more as did her heart rate. She was falling fast, but not as fast as she would if she struggled.
"PMFT!"…clink!"
She used almost what was left of her strength to open her eyes, her training now instinct; the first round from the silenced yet powerful .308 rifle flies, knowing somewhere down there is now a dead gangster, the empty shell landing on the rooftop and rolling to her side, barely caressing her thigh, the heat from the shell tingling her ever slightly.
PMFT! PMFT! PMFT! PMFT! PMFT! PMFT!
The woman known as the Widow of the Fang was now dead, the first one to go. The .308 round entered the side of her head and detonated inside; delayed explosive round the Army was still developing still in it's testing phase. Frank got the recipe and made them himself.
The rest of the convoy emptied out of their expensive bullet proof HUMMERS and aimed towards the rooftops, looking for a target, any target. So Frank gave them one; he stood up on the edge of the rooftop and looked down, the white skull on his chest gleaming in the now New York City night.
"Zài nàlǐ! Kàn!" Up there! Look!" came the shrieking voice in Chinese from the walkie talkie. She laid there and saw him stand there, almost in awe of the figure not 5 feet from her. His frame massive, covered in body armor and military grade equipment, the embodiment of sheer military discipline, his trench coat flown back slightly, revealing the skull on his chest. The symbol of fear that the criminals have come to dread. "Zhè shì PUNISHER! Tā kāi qiāng, zhuàn dàqián!" "IT'S THE PUNISHER! SHOOT HIM NOW!" screamed the walkie-talkie but it was too late; The Punisher raises his right arm as if in victory. "Click, BOOM!" The explosion was nothing more than a muffled hum. On the street, gangsters scattered as an improvised explosive device hidden in the trash goes off, shrapnel flying into the direction of the convoy. "Click, BOOM!" The second one, she didn't even notice. The second explosion came from under the Rolls Royce limo; a bomb set up under a manhole cover, exploding upwards decimating the limo in half.After the shouting and the shooting she couldn't hear much of anything or the explosions but she knew it'll be alright. Franks the best at what he does. And what he does is punish. She knew she shouldn't have accepted the contract to protect Kajina, but it gave her a reason to come back to New York. She wasn't afraid of letting her defenses fall around him. She welcomed it. They were both hurting deeply. But they could never be. She knew this. But she didn't care. She smiled again, this time she didn't fight it; she let herself fall asleep, the sound of a suppressed sniper rifle her lullaby.
6 hours later, Elektra Natchios awakens in a very familiar place; presidential suite of the Waldorf Astoria, her sais on the night stand next to her, a small note with a skull neatly folded over them.
It was good seeing you again.
That's all it said. That's all it had to say.