The objective was simple: kill everyone in the warehouse. He'd already located a good vantage point, a balcony overlooking the main room, all he had to do was get into position and wait. These men were criminals, murderers, they deserved what was coming – they'd earned it.
No matter how he'd planned it, how many times he'd cased the area looking for the best way in and out, he didn't know to plan for her. A frail woman clinging to the shadows, her ragged breathing loud enough to give her away, making for the door he'd just entered from. Guards would've filled in by then, she was gonna walk right into them. All he could think staring at the back of her tangled head as she unknowingly inched backward toward him was, not now.
She kept an eye on the small group of men only a few feet in front of her, her view partially skewed by the wooden beams of a staircase. She waited for one of them to look her way, to call out to grab her and put her back in the cage. With each trembling breath she stepped further and further back, glancing briefly over her shoulder to see a long wall and to her left a doorway. She could feel the cool night air drifting in, that was the exit. She was so close.
The breath stilled in her lungs at a large hand wrapping around her mouth, her back pressed against a broad chest driving fear into her quivering heart. There hadn't been enough time for her to cry out.
"Easy now," a low rumbling voice breathed in her ear, ruffling her hair. "I'm not gonna hurt you." He could feel her small body shaking against him, her thin fingers clutching at the hand held firm across her jaw keeping her mouth shut. Looking down at her he turned her face toward his, seeing only the thin point of her nose and her damp terrified eyes. He knew, moment he let her go she'd bolt. Grinding his teeth he stepped further right, closer to the banister, pulling her with him. Pressing his mouth into her ear he said, "it ain't personal." While one of the men gave a loud whoop of a laugh Frank slammed the side of her head against the side of the wood.
…
"Hey brother, glad you make it," a gruff man called at the sight of an old friend. The two shook hands, grins on their equally guarded faces, before one pulled the other in for a one armed hug.
Frank stood silent and composed atop the balcony watching the scene unfold beneath him as more members of this gang showed up, a heavy rifle poised in his hands, his gaze set to the end of the barrel. At his feet lay a thin unconscious woman gently laid, the hair brushed away from her young face.
The sound of the heavy metal doors sliding closed, the soft clinking of a chain dragging along the ground, gave indication that all parties had arrived. And after the initial greetings had been given, as the group of men who'd come together to plan how to go about taking over the city began speaking, their judge and executioner opened fire. So taken by surprise were they that they barely had time to arm themselves before a bullet tore through them. In a matter of ten seconds the men had either fallen to the ground or were on their way, and Frank then turned aim on the door where the men set up like guards had been standing watch – not knowing that the real threat had been inside.
Shooting the last of them down Frank scanned the area around him, shooting the few that moved, before he stooped to grab the girl slinging her and the rifle over his shoulder. Making for the stairs he favored a side piece, shooting a man that came in the back door from the back alley. Another man he met on the wooden stairs, and holding an arm around the girl's legs he raised a foot catching the other man square in the chest sending him back down the wooden steps. As the man lay crumpled on the ground Frank lined up the gun with the kid's head and pulled the trigger.
A hidden fist swung from behind the wall catching Frank's jaw throwing him to the side, his grip slipping on the girl and she fell with a dull thud to the floor. Catching himself on the banister Frank swung wildly at the gangster, hitting him once in the chest and once in the stomach before throwing him head first into the wall hearing his skull crack from the force of it. Then he shot him in the head, and without wasting a breath Frank shot another man running in from outside – man, kid didn't even look thirty.
Spitting the blood from his mouth Frank shook his now aching head and reached for the girl again, throwing her back over his shoulder before he walked into the dark alley behind the warehouse. His face was stern, his brows drawn together his dark eyes narrowed, blood dripping from his chin as he crossed the half lit street into the adjacent alley. She hung limp down his back, her arms extended swaying along with her hair to the cadence of his walk, offering no objection to his taking her.
I absolutely loved the way the show portrayed the Punisher, who I've always favored over more traditional 'heroes' or even antiheroes. This is my attempt at showing just a little bit more of that guarded humanity in him. And this won't necessarily have a romantic element, a subtle possibility perhaps, but it will more so be about two broken people leaning on each other. I can only hope to do Frank Castle, and the amazing show, justice.