The Punisher

Chapter one: Death on the Docks

Frank dreamed a dream. Lightning flashes of USMC basic training filled his head like ghosts of a distant past. A trigger, a boot, a green beret. Glimpses of how it all started. Death in the jungle, death abroad, death at home. Skeletons yielded to unrelenting gravity then decomposed into the ground without names. A sunny day in Central Park, kites were influenced by the wind, dancing and chasing each other in the serene breeze. A child laughs, a child cries, a child screams, a child dies. Grave stones illuminate to reveal their epitaphs. Frank Castle, Maria Castle, a gunshot rings out destroying the silence.

Franks eyes dramatically opened.

He was surrounded by a dank dark gym, standing before a rusty squat rack and dirty mirror, Frank deadlifted a ridiculous weight up and down up and down, his muscles were pumped and vascular, Frank was huge, superhuman, he looked like a Herculean hero. He would put Banner to shame. Everything was dark, black and depressing, yet his skull upon his huge chest shined brightly. Juxtaposed against the morose backdrop. A beacon of light remaining constant in a world going to hell.

Outside three new clean punisher t-shirts hung upside down on a washing line, flowing and dancing in the breeze.

It was time to suit up, Frank stood in his apartment workshop where rifles lined the walls, maps and mugshots with big crimson X's littered the death board like a phylogenetic tree of crime. One branch lead to an untouched cluster. until tonight. Frank loaded his weapons, SFW carbine with UGL, .44 magnum, Bowie knife, grenades, flash bangs and magazines, a ménage of destruction.

The deal goes down tonight.

Micros Intel was solid. The old glass factory on the docks. The Saints and The Russos have formed an alliance. Two of the biggest, dirtiest and violent crime family's have just slipped into bed with eachother. Must be Cozy. This will a nice little wake up call.

Frank slammed a full metal jacket into his M4 Dimarco, the shrill, satisfying sound pierced the night, an apt premonition of what's to come.

Inside the Glass and Mirror production factory suave gangsters in three piece suits hold a secret conference right underneath the DEAs nose, and only the dockrats will ever know. Outside four muscles lazily stroll, patrolling the perimeter, one on each side of the building holding G4 "barking dog" rifles.

One of the patrolman's heads suddenly exploded in a pink mist, his body flopping silently to the floor like a puppet who's strings were abruptly cut. The other three followed the same fate in quick succession, the view from the punishers scope witnessing all four patrolmen fall in tandem.

Inside, amongst shipping crates and glass loading equipment, Howard Saint called for silence, flanked by two bodyguard gorillas, he raised his hands in the air like a slick TV evangelist manipulating his flock. The group of Saints and Russos fell deadly quiet.

"Gentlemen, thankyou for coming, this union will open up new and prosperous opportunities for us all. And as a token of my appreciation, and a symbol of trust, I have brought you here tonight, to give you, the Russos, a little gift."

Billy Russo looked smug as he wore a Cheshire grin upon his weasely face. He likes presents.

Howard clicked his fingers at his trained apes, Johnny and Bobby. "Open the crates!" He exclaimed in an authoritarian manner.

Johnny and Bobby knuckledragged over to a pair of shipping crates and slipped a crowbar between the creaking wood to reveal a mass of M60 assault rifles, state of the art, bang bang.

Billy Russos eyes shined like diamonds in the black nights sky, he rubbed his hands together so viciously they ran the risk of setting alight.

" I think this is going to be the start of a long and happy partnership!" Billy could hardly contain his greasy excitement.

Various goons admired the new hardware and chattered excitedly and approvingly amongst themselves, with their wit and bravado exceeding themselves

Russo thug: "Dose Russian motha fuckers ain't gonna be able to do shit against dis much bang!"

Saint lackey: "Let's see those yakuza pricks pressure us now!"

Abruptly, during the chatter and witty thug bragging, the lights cut out, seconds of darkness were filled with various curses and "what the fucks"

A red timer counted down, attached to a door breaching explosive, as it hit 0000 the door to the glass factory violently exploded in a parade of flashes and flames, illuminating the faces of the thugs. Those who were close to the door disintegrated in a shower of red as limbs flew around the room. Those who had not been blown apart from the blast were scared shitless, fumbling for their new toys.

Frank stormed in, a spectre silhouette against the smoke and fumes, like the grim reaper collecting souls, only the skull was fully visible.

Frank fired controlled bursts from his M4 Dimarco, causing various thugs' chests and heads to explode spraying dark crimson blood in a crescendo of ultra violence.

Howard's apes pushed him back as he ran up the stairs to a room marked "mirror showroom". He slipped inside the door, fuelled by a burning sweaty fear. He inadvertently trapped himself inside as the only exit was a window leading to a very high drop.

"Agh for fucks sake Punisher!" He screamed desperately.

Back in the main factory Frank worked his way across the factory floor, using a mix of CQC, and knife combat. He dropped his rifle once out of ammo and continued with his .44 hand cannon, grabbing thugs as human shields, breaking necks, stabbing faces and destroying his opposition. A couple of rounds hit Franks Kevlar, making him stumble back, however a few grenades were his answer back.

A mass of mangled bodies lay around Frank, smoke rose from spent shells and bullet holes. Stepping over bodies Frank walked up the stairs to the mirror showroom.

Howard Saint was paralysed by fear. He had heard the stories of the boogeyman. If you see the skull you'll see a body bag. Cowering in the corner of the room unaware of the elegant mirrors in brass and gold frames that stood guard around the walls. Howard shakily clutched his browning peashooter and felt inadequate.

The door exploded from a mini charge and a flash bang rolled in, it's dazing light blinded Howard as he began to scream and sob like a terrified child. A sound Frank knew all too well.

"Fuck you Punisher! FUCK YOU!"

Frank holstered his .44 and calmly walked into the room, Howard pawed around blind for his dropped pistol, no chance, out of reach. Frank picked up Howard one handed by his collar, choking him, pulling him close to his face, close enough to smell his fear. Frank drew his head back to gain momentum and slammed his forehead hard against Howard's face. breaking his nose, feeling the bones crumble as blood spurted freely from his nose and mouth.

Frank grabbed Howard by the neck and the belt, and swung him back to gain a good thrust and smashed his face in to one of the mirrors, glass teared up Howard's face as he let out a feral shriek. Frank repeated the process with five other mirrors, ripping and tearing Howard's skin and facial tendons into an unrecognisable pulp. Blood poured out of Howard's face, neck and hands.

"Ppppleassse" he stuttered almost unrecognisably due to the fact that his lips were unable to form the shapes necessary for proper enunciation.

Howard whimpered like a defeated animal who knows he will not survive the winter. If Frank could remember how to smile, he would take pride in this one.

Frank hoisted Howard up and hurled him towards the window, his body smashed through the razor sharp glass which tore his skin, muscle and sinew apart, falling down to a thud on the asphalt.

Frank walked to the broken window and looked down to the dock floor, a huge puddle of blood and glass littered the ground, however Howard's body was no where to be seen.

"You're tougher than I thought Saint. I guess my work isn't through."

Frank turned away from the mass of blood, skin, hair and glass and retreated into the night.

Outside Franks apartment three punisher t-shirts hung on a washing line in the breeze. The middle shirt this time battle damaged, with bullet holes and blood stains littering the skull.