You Can't Go Home Again
A final shot rings across the Park. I freeze and hold my breath in anticipation. It all comes down to this. Whether I live or die comes down to this final second. And then it's over.
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It started six hours ago, in Queens. I don't know how he found me. I might never know. But he did, and I suppose that's all that counts.
It's a cold night, way below freezing. The city is encased in ice and snow, so much so that the streets are nearly deserted... and odd sight in New York. The cold bites all the way to the bones.
A small-time con artist (Three Card Monte, if you're wondering), Finch, tipped me off about the whereabouts of Lester Gatsby, a big-time arms dealer who'd gone cold when he found out that the FBI had a hard-on for him. That was about seven months ago. Nobody had seen him since. Last I heard, he'd ran with his tail between his legs all the way to a non-extridation country.
But I suppose that's life. You gotta move on.
But this was a nice opportunity for me. With Gatsby back in town, I could have a nice conversation with him about his clientele. I can be very persuasive when I want.
According to Finch, Gatsby was holed up in some shithole in Brooklyn.
Oh, how the mighty have fallen.
Gatsby was staying at some cheap motel in the heart of Brooklyn. He rarely left the place, and had no visitors or security that I could see. A man like Gatsby without bodyguards or hookers is an anomaly around here.
But in any case, I decided to count my blessings. The less people around, the less chance of innocents getting caught in the crossfire.
I decided make my move. The sooner I got this over with, the sooner I could go home and crash. Even murderous vigilantes need their sleep eventually. Besides, I'd been hanging in this area for long enough as it is. I don't want to get made before I make my move. Subtle approach is usually the best. I change into my disguise and head towards the motel.
I approach the door and knock quickly. I turn around so he can't see my face through the peephole. A gruff and slurred voice comes through the door, "What the fuck you want?"
This is good. He's wasted, so his reactions are gonna be shot. Works out much better.
"Maintenance, sir. There are problems with the television reception.", I say in a faux Spanish accent. I pride myself on my accents. Maria used to love them.
"My TV's fucking fine. Piss off, spic."
Now I'm annoyed.
"C'mon hombre, just let me check the cables, then I'll leave."
"I told you to fuck off."
I guess the direct approach is always the best.
I turn around and give the door a good hard kick. The chain lock snaps off, while the dead bolt leaves a huge gauge in the door moulding. Gatsby flies back onto the floor. I pull a silenced Beretta 92 from my waist band and swing the door shut as I walk in. I grab a chair near the bed and jam it under the door knob, then turn to face Gatsby.
His nose is a mess. I guess he was too close to the door when I kicked it. He's a thin, gaunt man, with what looks like a week old shadow on his chin. He's busy fumbling with what looks like a .32.
I really am not in the mood to mess around. I point my Beretta at his hand and blow the tiny revolver out of his hand. A couple of his fingers go with it. He shrieks in pain and begins to crawl towards the bathroom. Why the bathroom, I don't know.
I pull a roll of duct tape from my pocket and grab his arm. I go on my knees on top of him and slap some tape on his mouth, then tie his hands together. Duct tape. Good for almost anything.
He begins to kick at me. I bring a heavy boot down on his right knee cap.
Suffice it to say, it hurt.
As he lay thrashing and moaning on the ground, I pointed the pistol at his forehead, and said, "You keep moving, I blow off your ear."
I think it woulda made more sense to point it at his ear when I said that. Oh well.
"I'm gonna take the tape off your mouth. You scream, I cut out your tongue." I pull out a switchblade for a more dramatic effect. His eyes go wide.
I rip the tape off of his mouth. His eyes begin to water. He's partly shaved now. I grab him and toss him on the bed.
"Heya Lester. How you doing?"
He looks at me, incredulously. "You blew off my fingers and broke my knee. HOW THE FUCK DO YOU THINK I'M DOING!?" he screams.
I whack him with the butt of the Beretta. "No screaming."
"Who the fuck are you? What do you want with me?"
I look at him, square in the eyes.
"My name is Frank Castle, and it is a pleasure to make your acquantaince."
Realization dawns as he looks at me.
"You're finally fucking here. What the fuck took you so long?"
This takes me by surprise. Usually when the scum of the streets find out who I am, they scream, curse, beg for their lives, and so on. But not once has someone asked 'What the fuck took you so long?'.
"You were expecting me?"
You have to admit it... the man has spirit.
"Fucking yes. I've been sitting here in this shitshack for three days, waiting for you. I've only been allowed to leave to get ice and pay my bill. I've been eating take out for breakfast. You ever eaten Thai Curry or whatever that fucking stuff is in the morning? Christ."
I have to admit it, this conversation is not going the way that I'd expected it to.
"Why have you been waiting for me?"
His shoulders sag. "I had no choice. I came back to New York to see my kids. Haven't seem 'em in months."
His eyes begin to water again. He continues,
"That's when it happened. Some guy grabbed me when I left JFK. He told me that he'd kill my kids if I didn't do what he said. He cut off one of my toes to prove he wasn't kidding."
I take a look at his foot, and sure enough, one of them's bandages and looks slightly smaller.
"He told me that you were coming. Said that when you finally came, to give you the tape over there."
He motions to a set of drawers in the corner of the room. I go to pick it up. He keeps talking.
"I haven't listened to it. He said that if I did, he'd kill me outright. I think this place is bugged. Maybe a bomb or something. I think he's close by, and --"
Just then, the window exploded inwards. I dropped to avoid any shards. I saw Gatsby scream as his chest exploded and he fell off the bed. He begins to convulse and blood starts to pump through where his heart used to be. Blood begins to foam from his mouth as he begins to fade away. He mutters something, "... kids..."
I take cover behind the bathroom wall and pull out the Beretta. I wait for another shot. I wait a minute. Five minutes. Ten. Gatsby's lies in a pool of blood, his body quickly cooling.
I inch out and take cover behind the bed, looking everywhere, for anything suspicous. The shot had come through the window. I look at the window. I notice that the blinds were shut.
This is strange. The blinds were shut, and the door closed. How could someone outside see in?
I think about it as I move slowly to the door. Either there were cameras in here, or there was someone positioned outside, with a thermal scope. It's freezing outside. Very easy to see warm bodies.
Freezing air blasts inside the room, along with snow. The temperature in the begins to drop.
I slowly open the door and point my pistol through the doorway. No shot comes. It's getting colder.
I still have the tape in my hand. I look over at the bed, and see a mini tape recorder. I grab it and head outside.
I walk down the street towards where my car's parked. It's not really mine. A mob peon graciously decided to donate it to me.
I get inside and drive. As I head away, something occurs to me.
Nobody came to Gatsby's door. Nobody bothered to help. He was screaming, the window shattering. Nobody came.
Something else occurs to me. I never heard a shot.
----------------------------------------------------
I pull over at a small diner, and take a look at the tape that I took from Gatsby's. It's labelled 'One'. I open the tape recorder, and pull out a tape. This one is labelled 'Will'. I put this tape back in, and play it.
"This is Lester Gatsby, and this is my last will and testement..."
Just the words of a dead man. I take the tape out, and put in the tape marked 'One'.
I press play. A voice begins to speak. I can't place this voice... but it seems so familiar. There's a cold and detached sense to this voice.
"Hello, Frank. You don't know who I am, but suffice it to say, I've been looking forward to meeting you for a long time. You can call me Colton, if you want, though this isn't my real name. Let's get down to the nitty-gritty of the matter, shall we?"
I still can't place this voice.
"I'm not going to bother explaining my motive to you. You'll find out all you need to know soon enough. First things first, I suppose. I want you to dial this number..."
He rattled off a number, then the tape stopped playing.
I pulled out my cell phone, and dialled the number.
"Hello, Frank. Let's cut to the chase, alright?"
I ask him, "What do you want?"
"What do I want?" he chuckles, "What I want, Frank, is for you to go home."
"What?"
"You heard me. It's time to go home, Frank. There's a new family living there, Frank. Kind of like you used to live, a dad, mom, three kids, actually. Even a dog."
Something dawns on me.
"What have you done?"
"Nothing... yet. But it won't stay that way for long. You have 30 minutes to get home, Frank. Any time you want to talk, just dial this number. But I'm afraid I won't always be here to answer it. 30 minutes, starting now. Go."
The phone goes dead. I look at it.
I put the car into drive and head towards Queens.
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The snow hinders me. The storm is growing worse and worse with each passing second. I cut across street corners when I can and run red lights. There's no time to stop and check for traffic. I barrell through intersections and head towards the house.
I still remember everything about it, as if it were yesterday. A small and cozy house, Maria and the kids. We even had a white picket fence, oddly enough.
Then I remember. Russo had been there. A new house must've been rebuilt there. I haven't even been in the neighborhood since the day it burned down. That was a few years ago.
I suppose that driving like a maniac has its rewards. I reach the house with about five minutes to spare. I pull out the phone and hit redial. As the phone rings, I take a look around at the neighborhood. It's all different. I look where home used to be.
I was right, a new house is there, pale blue and covered in snow. The white picket fence is still there. He answers the phone.
"I see you made it, Frank."
He's around. I start scanning the neighborhood, looking for anyone, anything out of place.
"Don't bother, Frank. You won't be able to see me. Go inside."
I pull out my 9, and head towards the front door.
Memories flood through my consciousness. I remember everything, have forgotten nothing. I remember the day Maria and I had bought the place. When Lisa was born. Their first day of school. Our anniversary. When Frankie came home from kindergarten. I remember it all.
I reach the front door. It's already open. I push the door. It swings open.
I walk in. All the lights with the exception of the hallway lights are off. There's an arrow painted on the ground. Yellow. I follow it, the 9 at the ready.
I walk into the living room. It's dark.
"Are you there, Frank?"
"Yeah."
The lights turn on.
Photos all around me. Taped to all the walls, hundreds. I've seen them all. I walk further into the room.
Photos... all of them at least five years old. I see photos of myself, during my tour. I see my wedding photos, with me and Maria. I see my kids, my parents, my life.
My entire life is here, taped on these walls.
"Do you remember, Frank? Do you remember who you used to be?"
I can barely croak out an answer.
"Yes."
I walk towards the opposite wall, to a picture of Maria and me, with the kids. It's the biggest photo on the walls. It's framed.
I remember this picture the most of all. I remember where we were. I remember the day, the exact moment.
This was our last photo of us together, in the Park.
I pull the photo from the wall. I take the photo out of the frame.
I gaze at it, for what feels like the longest time of my life.
The family. The phone's gone dead again. I re-dial.
"Where's the family?" I ask, as soon as he picks up.
"Backyard."
I head into the back, and see a sight that stops me, dead in my tracks.
The yard is covered in snow, but I see an odd hump in the middle of the backyard. There's a shovel stuck in it.
"Oh God."
The man on the other end chuckles. "Better get to them fast as you can."
I run to the mound and grab the shovel. I begin to dig. I dig for what feels like hours. My body begins to go numb from the cold when I finally hit something metal. I quickly clear space, and see it for what it is.
A metal coffin.
I try to open it, and notice that it's locked. I pull out the 9 and blow the lock off. I swing the door open. In the coffin, there's a man, barely breathing. He looks bad, with cuts and bruises everywhere. One of his eyes is swollen.
I grab him and haul him out of the coffin. He's only half-conscious.
The phone rings again. I pick it up. He begins talking immediately.
"Frank, I lied. There wasn't a family here. Just the dad. Mom and the kids are... somewhere else. This poor sucker hasn't got a clue. In any case, you got to him just in the nick of time. The snow's coming down harder... it'll be a bitch to get an ambulance now. You're gonna have to take him to Emergency. Take him to Mt. Sinai. He'll be dead if you don't."
The line went dead again.
I grabbed the man and dragged him over to my car. I put him in the passenger seat, then went back to the house. I checked the rooms, quick as I could. The house was empty. I ran to the car, and threw it into drive and headed to the hospital.
Behind me, the house began to burn.
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I made it to Mt. Sinai. The guy was still alive, amazingly enough. I hauled him over to emergency, where a pair of paramedics took him. They didn't even notice my shirt. Good thing.
This place... I recognize it.
After the Park... I came here.
The phone rings again.
"You got him to the hospital in time... good job, Frank. You're nothing if not dependable."
I begin to grow angry.
"What the fuck do you want?"
"You'll find out soon enough. It's time to go where your blades first tasted blood."
"What?"
"You remember the tunnels, Frank?"
I think I know what he means.
"Why should I?"
"If you don't, I kill someone, and I keep killing people until you go. So, go. Do you remember Tasaro? Go to where they found him."
I remember Tasaro. A shit Mafia peon. Worked for the Maggias. When most of them were alive, anyway. I took him down in the tunnels, and made sure he squealed. I left him for the rats. Be with your own kind, and all.
I head to the tunnels.
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I'm walking back to the car when I'm made. A cop runs in front of me and points his gun at me. Another one comes behind me, about four feet away.
"Put your hands in the air, Castle!" the one in front of me screams.
I look at him. "No."
He begins to sputter and stammer, and screams the order again. Frankly, I'm too tired to go through all this shit. I stick my hands up in the air. The cop in front begins to radio for back-up as the cop behind moves to cuff me. As he reaches for my hands, I make my move.
I grab his hand and twist it, hear a bone or two break. Usually, I'd just let these guys take me in. Cops aren't part of my war. But I have no choice.
"Sorry," I mutter as he screams in pain. It's a good thing we're at a hospital.
My hand snakes around his waist and I grab his gun and pull it out of the belt. I sidestep behind the cop and put him in a stranglehold. I point the pistol at the other cop. I motion to his radio and gun.
"Drop it, or I shoot him." motioning to the cop that's struggling for breath in my grip.
The cop's eyes grow wide. He pulls out his gun and places it on the ground. He then puts his radio beside it.
I move forward, dragging the cop with me. I point the gun towards a sign post. "Go there." I tell the cop.
He begins to move as I drag my hostage with me. When he reaches the sign post, I tell him to cuff himself to the post. He does so, his hand shaking as he squeezes the cuffs closed. One down.
"Pass me the keys." I tell him. He throws them at me, and they land at my feet. I drag my cop over to the sign post as well. I grab his handcuffs as well, and make sure to only cuff the hand that isn't injured.
I pick up the cop's weapons and radios and drop them in the dumpster nearby. I kick the keys near the cops legs.
"I'm sorry. I don't have any choice." I tell them. And then I walk away.
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I turn on the police scanner as I gun the car towards Manhattan. It's not long before they issue out an all-points bulletin on me, "All units alert, all units alert. Frank Castle AKA The Punisher has been spotted at Mt. Sinai Hospital. He has assaulted two police officers and was last seen heading towards Manhattan..."
I tune the scanner out. This is not good. I try to keep a low profile, but now every cop in New York's going to be baying for my blood.
Really, not good.
The scanner continues, "Consider Castle armed and extremely dangerous."
Right.
I'm nearing the tunnel. I think. With all this snow, it's hard to tell where it is. I find the little alley where I dragged Tasaro to. I turn off the engine and step out of the car. I walk around for a moment, looking for the manhole cover.
I find it and drag it off. I look down into the deep, dark tunnel. If I didn't know any better, you'd think that it went on forever. Jesus Christ, it's gonna be cold down there. And dark.
I walk back to my car and open the trunk. I'm going to need some gear if I'm going in those tunnels.
I put my 9 back into the trunk and pull out an army-issue M4 assault rifle. I attach a flashlight and night vision scope to it. I grab a few clips, just in case. I grab my .45s and put them in the side holsters. I also decide to take along my M40A3 Rifle. I have an infra-red scope, that I attach to it. I put on my vest and tac gear. I sling the rifle across my back, and grab the M4. Too bad that I forgot my night vision goggles. Isn't it wierd that I have an infra-red scope, but no NVGs?
I descend into the tunnels.
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I point the M4 ahead and slowly walk through the tunnels. The water in the sewers is freezing and slushy, which makes the going slow. I've walked about half a block or so when the phone rings again.
"Finally made it, Frank? I've been waiting for a while."
"What now?" I ask him. I keep walking towards the end of the tunnel. At the end of this tunnel is a ladder that goes to another level below. The sewers under New York are a labyrinth.
"Oh, I just wanted to warn you, Frank."
That catches me buy surprise.
"Warn me about what?"
All of a sudden, it feels as if a large wrecking ball just smashed into my chest. The tunnel fills with heat. Debris and wreckage fly past me. I fly back and smash into the freezing water. My head goes under for a moment. I begin to sputter. A bomb.
I get up slowly, when another one goes off. I fly back and fall to the next level of the sewers. The wind goes out of me. I try and remember how to breathe as pieces of the wall and debris fall around me.
I hear a voice. "About that."
I roll around and look down the tunnel. I see a shadow moving and hear footsteps walking away. It's him.
I get up. There's blood in my mouth. I spit it out and look myself over as I start to run after him. There cuts and gashes all over me, but nothing too major and nothing embedded in me. I can't find my M4. It must be back on the level above, buried under the debris. I look up. I see starlight. He blew up the street above him as well.
I pull out a .45 and flashlight and run down the tunnel after him.
There are no tunnels that branch off, just one long, straight tunnel. Where is he? I don't even hear footsteps anymore. The flashlight only extends a few feet in the surrounding dark.
I run until I come to a door. It's one of those old 50s doors, with the wheel in the center. I look around, to see if there are any other surprises that I should know about. Nothing that I can see.
No guts, no glory.
I pull on the wheel and push the door away. I walk into the room slowly. This is it. Tasaro's final resting place.
I walk into the room, swinging the flash light back and forth, keeping the pistol level.
All of a sudden, lights go on everywhere. Large heavy-duty worklights, that illuminate almost every surface.
There are newspapers taped to almost every surface of the sewer room. Stories from the Times, the Post, the Globe, and so on. Papers from every corner of the country. All about me. I look around. The earliest one is a story about a missing mobster named Tasaro.
This guy... he seems to have a fucking hard-on for me. Nice to be wanted.
The headlines and sub-headings scream: NIGHT CLUB SLAUGHTER! REPUTED MOBSTER FOUND DEAD IN FLORIDA! FRANK CASTLE WANTED! THE PUNISHER LOOSE! and so on.
My entire 'career' plastered on the walls of a sewage center. Great.
There's another door on the opposite end of the room. I ignore the rest of the papers and move toward it. I keep the pistol at the ready as I swing the door open. Tiny lights illuminate the tunnel. I move forward, following the lights.
I'm walking for about ten minutes when I hear it. Screaming. A woman's screaming.
I run towards the sounds. I stop dead in my tracks when I see her.
I've come into some big open cavern. In the centre, there's a woman, standing in some kind of wire box. The box is made of long cables around four metal poles. I can see tiny blue sparks emitting from the poles and wires.
The box is electrified.
"Please, help me!" she screams.
I begin to move forward when the ground in front of me explodes. I look towards the opposite side of the cave. There's a ladder on the opposite wall, and a tunnel at the top of the ladder. At the opening of a tunnel, a man sits crouched, cradling a large .50 sniper rifle. Serious man-killer.
He takes aim again. I'm a sitting duck. The vest won't stop a bullet that size.
We look at each other for a long time.
This is him.
"You can come after me, Castle, or you can save the woman. One or the other."
He fades into the shadows of the tunnels.
This is not a hard choice.
I run towards the woman. She's incredibly freaked out, but that's fairly obvious as she's only inches away from death on all four sides.
"My kids! He has my kids!" she screams.
I stop cold. "Where are they?"
She begins to cry. "The park! He said something about the park!"
I know what he's been doing now. All this... it's just been done to get me to Central Park. Where it all started.
No time to focus on that now. I need to get this lady out of here now.
I look around for something, anything that will help. It's not a problem that can be solved with bullets.
I see some kind of transformer on the wall to my left. I look it over. It's just some metal box embedded into the wall. It's covering something.
Ok, maybe it is a problem that can be solved with bullets.
I level the .45 at the box and fire three rounds dead center. The box comes loose. There are a dozen cables inside the box. I grab them (thank God for my gloves) and yank them out of the box.
And... nothing. The electricity was still on.
I look around for something else. I look up at the cieling. There's some kind of pulley in the cieling with a rope in it. I look at the cage, and sure enough, it's attached to the pulley. I follow the rope's opposite end. It's been shoved in a bed of cement. I take out my knife and cut the rope.
I begin to pull on it. It's heavy as hell, and it takes all my strength to just pull it up. It goes up about two feet when I can feel it begin to slip.
"Get out!" I scream at the woman.
She drops down and crawls from under the cage. She's just barely out when the cage falls and the rope burns through my hands.
I don't concern myself with it though. I need to get this woman out of here. She's still crying, but I grab her arm, and we go up the ladder into the top tunnel.
It's difficult to hold the .45 while it's slick with my blood, but I manage.
We find a manhole eventually and get out of the tunnel. I find out that she is in fact Coffin-Man's wife. Which means the kids are still in trouble. I leave her in the alley with instructions to go Mt. Sinai and to find the cops.
The I go to the Park... where it all started.
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I lost all my gear. That first explosion wiped out the entire alley, car included. All I've got now is two .45s and an M40 rifle. I'm not too far from the Park, but it's going to be difficult to get there. The area is swarming with cops because of the bombing.
I'm not exactly inconspicuos. I'm covered in blood and dirt, carrying a gigantic rifle on my back, with a huge skull on my front. Getting to the Park is gonna be tricky.
These cops are pissed. A lot of the talk is that its terrorism. Which I suppose it is, of a sort.
How to get there from here?
Easy... if you can't beat, join them. I stay to the back alleys as I go closer and closer to the park, waiting for my chance. My nerves are shot. My guns are in the holsters. Don't wanna risk anyone get killed.
My chance comes soon. There's a cop setting up a police barricade in a small side-street. Almost no witnesses.
I come up behind him quick. I grab his neck and wrestle him to the ground. He's faster than I am, and ready for action. As I bring him to the ground, he pulls out his stun gun and jams it in my gut. I fall back, with him along for the ride. He falls off to my side as I try to get up. He begins to pull out his pistol just as I kick him in the testicles.
I know how much something like that hurts, so I'm very sorry for having subjected him to it. He drops to the ground, clutching his balls.
I grab him and drag him into the alley. I grab his NYPD coat, hat, keys, and gun belt and put them on. I cuff him to a stop sign near the corner and leave him his radio nearby, along with the stun gun. I zip up the coat to cover my shirt and put on the hat so no one sees my face.
I head to his car, which is parked a little bit away. I get in and gun the car towards the Park. There's a check point ahead of me. The cops wave me through the first and second checkpoint, and soon I'm heading to the park. I keep the scanner on, just in case the cops become wise to my plan.
There's nothing by the time I get to the park. I hope those kids are ok. If they aren't... I'll take my time with this bastard.
I walk into the snowy park. The going's tough, but most of the park is deserted.
Central Park is huge. There's no way of knowing where exactly those kids are. I go back to the car where I left the rifle and take it, along with the police-issue shotgun. I have the shotgun at the ready as I walk into the park.
I come across one person in the park, a hobo under a bridge. I ask him if he's seen a pair of kids, or another man, possible carrying a rifle. The odds are astronomical, I know, but it doesn't hurt to ask.
"No sir, I didn't see nothing of the sort." he tells me in a slurred voice.
I lean in closer to him, close enough to smell the whiskey on his breath. I ask again, this time motioning the shotgun towards his head.
He looks at me, without any fear.
"You got balls, cop. I didn't see no kids or a guy with a rifle, but I did see a guy carring a briefcase. He went over there."
He points off into the distance. A man carrying a briefcase in a deserted and freezing park. Sounds about right.
There's a clearing up ahead. I know this place. I see it every damn day of my damn life.
The Clearing.
A sudden squawking pulls me out of my revelrie. I look over and see a small radio in the snow, the kind you put in your ear. I pick it up and put it on. Soon enough, he starts talking.
"Glad you finally made it, Frank. Remember this place? It's where you died."
I look around. All the trees here are dead, covered in snow. They look like bones, sticking out towards the dark and empty sky.
The man continues, "You died here, Frank. You died, and something else was born. The Punisher was born here. The body left, but the soul stayed, eh?"
I remember everything.
"It was an August, right? Nice, sunny day, not too hot."
I came to take the kids to the park, with Maria. We brought kites.
"You came with the family, just for a nice day at the park. Unfortunately for you, that's not how it ended."
Blood. That's what it all came down to.
"Who were they, Frank? The Costellos? Dragos? The Costas?"
It was five men. It began with five men.
"Does it still even matter, Frank? Did it ever matter?"
It happened fast.
"Were you always destined to be this, Frank? To be like me?"
There was popping in the air. Some people may think, firecrackers, but no.
"Is this the real you, Frank? The dark angel of death come from God to wipe the Earth clean of sinners?"
Thompsons. Colts. Uzis.
"What exactly are you, Frank? Do you even know what you are?"
Hard to imagine how tiny pieces of metal cause so much damage. But they do.
"Maybe you're not supposed to know. This is how it was all supposed to turn out."
There was blood in the air, everywhere. Maria, Lisa, Frankie. All dead in seconds.
"You were born here, Castle. Everything in your life had prepared you for that moment."
It was just me, standing there, as my family lay shredded in the grass. The large round pumped through my body, tearing veins and arteries and bones.
"This is where you were born. And this is where you die."
I died here. And I didn't.
"Admit it, Frank. You never left this place. You don't want to."
I know what's happened. I know why he's done this. I know. It's time to let go.
I pump the shotgun and walk into the clearing.
"Where are they?" I scream.
He chuckles.
"The kids are fine, for now Frank. If you want them, you're gonna have to kill me, otherwise it won't matter. It's just me and you now."
And with that, he fires. This time, I hear the shot. He's close.
I immediately drop to my side and point the shotgun to where I heard the muted 'pft'.
I hear a click. He's working the bolt.
I fire the shell into the direction I heard the sound. A snow bank explodes into the air. I hear a grunt in the earpiece. I immediately get up and run for cover, behind the trees. This time, I'm prepared for what will happen here.
A tree to my right explodes as another man-killer round blows it to shreds. He knows I'm behind the trees. He's trying to kill me by blowing holes in each to tree. Another tree explodes, close this time. I'm too far for the shotgun to be of any use. I drop it, and pull out the pistols. The tree to my immediate right explodes. Now or never.
I run to my left and start firing both pistols similtaneously into the general direction of him. The snow explodes everywhere, hopefully obscuring his vision.
I empty my pistols creating the snow screen. No time to reload. I drop the pistols and continue running, pulling on the sniper rifle as I near another snow bank.
I hear another crack behind me. He's hit another tree. That's when I remember. He has an infra-red scope. The fact that he can find me in the dark and in the snow proves that much.
Luckily, I have my own answer.
I duck down and point the rifle in the general direction of him. I look through my scope for him. I spot him running in between the opposite trees. I fire at him. Miss.
I work the bolt-action on the rifle and look again. He's gone. Hiding.
I begin to move to my left again, slowly this time. I have a feeling he's circling as well. I scan the opposite end of the clearing.
Another shot comes at me, just a foot away from where I'd been a second ago. I drop to my side and begin to roll away, quick as I can.
Another shot, closer this time.
I get up, fast as I can and start running.
I duck into the trees. I hid behind a large oak, and lean across, looking through the scope. I see him vanish behind the trees.
I begin to run, tree to tree.
I'm at the fourth tree, when I spot him again. I look through the scope and see him. I can see that he's looking at me. He's pointing his rifle at me.
Now or never. May the faster man win.
I pull the trigger, and so does he.
I hold my breath. I keep holding it even as the bullet rips through my shoulder. I fly back into the snow. I can barely breath. I look at my shoulder. It's just a graze, but it's bad. The snow is stained with my blood.
But I'm alive. I look across the clearing.
And I see him. He's walking towards me, cradling the rifle. I still can't see his face.
He's coming for me. Coming to end it. There's no way that I can work the bolt. Nothing I can do, not with my arm like this.
I look at him, waiting. I guess he was right. I would never leave this place.
Then I see him fall down. He falls to his knees, and drops the rifle. His hand goes to his chest, and he falls back.
I will myself to get up. It's hell, but I manage it. With my free hand, I hold the blood back and I walk towards him.
When I get to him, I see that he's nearly dead. There's a hole on the left side of his chest, with frothy blood spilling out, the snow crimson.
By the looks of it, the bullet pierced both the aorta and lung. Can't say that I'm sorry.
I look down at him. He's fading fast.
"Who are you?" I ask him.
He looks at me. He forms a slight smile on his lips.
"Does it really matter, Frank?" he croaks, "I'm just like you."
I look at him.
"What do you want?"
"It doesn't matter anymore now, does it? Maybe you'll find out soon, maybe you won't."
"Where are the kids?"
"Shed."
And with that, he's gone.
I look around. I begin to walk out of the clearing when I see it. A shed. I walk towards it.
I can hear someone crying. It's high-pitched.
The door is locked from the outside. I unlatch the door, but it remains stuck. I hear whimpering.
"Don't worry," I call out throught the door, "I'm a policeman!"
At least I'm wearing the coat.
I look around for something to open the door with. Then I remember my rifle. I use it to break down the door. Inside the shed are two small kids, a girl and boy. They're just sitting on the floor, clutching each other. They notice I'm not him. They run to me and hold on tight.
I take them back to the entry of the park. They don't have any coats, so I let them share mine. They don't even take notice of the skull or rifle.
At the entry of the park, they're waiting for me.
Twenty cops, maybe thirty, all pointing their pistols at me, their red and blue lights flashing in the background. A man begins to blare over a megaphone. I pay him no attention. I realize that all of my shots weren't suppressed. Brought too much unnecessary attention. It's a good thing. The cops can take care of the kids.
"Go to them." I tell the kids. They look at me, fright in their eyes. I nod at them, and they begin to walk to the cops.
The cops are keeping their distance from me. Someone begins to scream at me, for me to raise my arms.
"I can't." I say, as I look at him coldly. He sees my bloody and messed up shoulder. I don't think he really cares.
Five cops advance on me, with another two holding stun guns, and two more holding cuffs. They aren't taking any chances.
I offer no resistance. I'm just glad to get out of this place. I drop the rifle and place my hands behind my back.
They cuff me, pistols at my chest every second of it.
I'm taken all the way to Rykers with a small smirk on my lips.