Disclaimer The Punisher is a trademark of Marvel. All other characters are my own.
Open and Shut
New York, 13:07 hours
It was a perfect summer's day in Richland, the kind of day that made most people glad to be alive. Daryl sat on the steps of his apartment, drinking a beer and watching the ladies go by, dressed just right for the sun's heat. Life was good.
He finished his beer and went inside, looking for a refill. A glance in the fridge confirmed his worst fears: "Damn, out of beer, just my bloody luck..."
Before he could go out to the nearest shop, before he had time to even turn around, a strong hand grabbed his hair, yanking his head back. He went to cry out, but there was no sound. The forensics team would later conclude that the victim had died before hitting the floor, his throat cut wide. The open throat killer had just claimed victim number 5.
New York, 19:47 hours
It was getting late over in George Street, and it looked like a quiet night for a change. That would change soon enough; nothing stayed quiet for long when Frank Castle was nearby. The alleyways were pretty much empty. Over the years, some of the scum that Frank hunted seemed to have developed a sort of sixth sense; something that alerted them of danger, warning that the Punisher was near. Those that didn't develop this sixth sense didn't last long. Take the dealer in the corner of this alley for example, still blissfully unaware of Frank's towering presence. He hadn't noticed the other dealers disappear as Castle drew near. It was to be his downfall.
The dealer turned, seeing Castle for the first time. "And what do you want? You looking to score bro?"
"You're 'Big Benny'?" asked Frank, barely able to hide the disdain, the disgust in his voice.
"I certainly am. You looking for some coke? Yes sir, won't find a better supplier or any finer product anywhere in this city."
Frank only just managed to stop himself from killing the man with his bare hands, mentally picturing a bullet with Benny's name on it. "I'm more interested in information actually. I was told you were the man to talk to."
Frank didn't explain that the man who had told him about Benny was currently in hospital with his arm broken in four places. He'd been lucky. Benny's face broke into a wide smile. "You've come to the right man! I hear about everything that happens in this city. What do you wanna know? Oh, and, eh, how much money are we talking about?"
Seconds later, Benny was smashed against the wall. Bent double, he was barely able to support himself, winded from the blow. "Who the hell..."
He didn't get any further. Frank pulled out a 9mm and put a bullet in each of his knees. Benny collapsed onto the floor, howling in agony. Frank knelt down next to him, and spoke quietly. "Tell me what you know about the murders Benny. Who's behind them?"
Benny hesitated. "What murders? I know nothing about no murders, I swear!"
Punisher pressed the gun barrel right against Benny's temple, and cocked it. "That's a double negative you shit-head. You know exactly what murders I'm talking about. The one's that have been making front-page news for the last fortnight. The one's the police have no comment on. The one's every man, woman and child have been talking about. Tell me who's behind the open throat murders."
"I don't know, I don't know!" wailed Benny.
"Well, then you're no good to me at all, are you? May as well be dead," said Frank, applying first pressure on the trigger.
"Wait!"
Frank waited. He had all the time in the world. After a second, Benny continued. "The word is that someone in West Drive has been boasting about how he's mates with the open throat killer, how they go way back."
"Give me a name Benny." Second pressure on the trigger.
"Wilson Green! Wilson Green! You can find him in the Memorial apartments! It's the truth, I swear!"
Frank paused. "Thank you." Third, and final pressure on the trigger.
Castle walked off, leaving Benny's body as a warning to the other dealers. Benny had ruined countless lives, peddling all manners of filth. No tears would be shed for him. Frank had learnt what he'd needed. He now had a name, something to start from. He hated serial killers. They were dangerous, because as long as they remained uncaught, the bodies would keep on turning up, at least until the killer ran out of victims. The police had only found one pattern n the victims so far. They'd all gone to the same school. Well, if the killer had a thing against pupils from Richland High, he had thousands of potential victims. Everyday the killer was loose, lives were in danger. The police had hit a brick wall. No one was speaking. Well, people spoke to Frank. And when he found the killer, he'd stop them the best way he knew.
Time to find out what Wilson Green knew.