David spent the past five weeks pouring over all the FBI files on the Punisher. His past, military training, and psychological profile—so much as they could gather—intrigued him. David held a deep sympathy for him. Frank Castle was a tragic figure and there was a part of David that wanted to reach out to the man.
He knew what it felt like to be lonely.
The hairs in the basement were tested and the results had come in that day. The DNA from the black hairs were a match for Castle's, so there was confirmation that Frank had been imprisoned—however briefly—in the small room. The other hairs were from a woman and the lab also determined she was a mutant, which surprised David. Her DNA was not in CODIS, so no identity had been obtained.
He turned to another tab in the file and read personal accounts from the people he helped. /So much rich complexity to this man. /
Just then, a phone rang. He read the screen and recognized the extension as his boss's. /I better answer it. / "This is Agent Salvatore. How may I help you?"
His boss, Angelo Martin, said, "I want you to come down to the morgue. Some hunter and his dog found the skeletal remains of three individuals buried in the woods about three months ago. We believe two of the remains are of the Castle family."
He started in his chair. He remembered when an asshole—David could not think of the name-had dug up the Castle family to piss off Frank. The remains had disappeared and it had been assumed that Frank moved them to parts unknown. "I'll be right down." He hung up and headed down the stairs—he was too excited to wait for an elevator—at a rapid clip.
It didn't take long to find the metal morgue doors and go through them. The remains were reverently laid out on three metal exam table. He approached them, heart beating in his throat.
"The woman is presumed to be Maria Castle; the girl is Lisa. The girl's DNA is a combination of Frank Castle and the woman's. So we feel confident in identifying those two. "Assistant Director Angelo Martin said, then showed him a plastic film with images of the DNA. "However, the boy is not a match for either Maria or Frank. He is not biologically related at all."
David shrugged. It was odd that Frank Jr's remains were not with Maria and Lisa, but maybe Frank Junior was buried somewhere else. "They need to be reburied."
Assistant Director Martin replied, "No. The skeletons are evidence and will be catalogued as such. They'll be put in the Punisher room." The Punisher room being the rather large room solely saved for the vigilante.
"This is disrespectful. They're not evidence. They were people and people deserve to be buried with dignity." The remains seemed to lay out the very soul of what Frank Castle used to be. It was indecent to look at them. They were a visual reminder of his humanity, of his lost fatherhood—which affected David greatly. He loved being a father and could not imagine the agony of losing one of his children.
"So that some other looney bin person who wants to fuck with the Punisher can dig them up and use them as marionettes? They're safer here. They'll be put in a box and won't be gawked at. And what's it to you?"
David broke his gaze from Maria's skull and the sight of her broken ribcage where a slug had gone through. The file said she bled out on the operating table. Her last word was 'Frank'. "It's indecent to me, is all. They should be buried in a safe location." /Not to mention what would happen if the Punisher found out his family was here, he'd be pissed and I couldn't blame him. /
Angelo changed the subject. "How's your dad doing?" He motioned for David to follow him back to the office. He wanted to go over the case involving the priest.
"His cancer is terminal. Doctors say he'll have two or three good months left then who knows." David sighed, feeling glum. He ran a hand through his jet black hair. His adopted father wanted him to visit him soon and he better get around to it. With work being crazy, then Morena's financial demands, trying to take care of all their children, and the stepfather suddenly not wanting David to see the youngest children, David was about to tear his hair out. David began to think about suing for full custody.
Angelo hissed through his teeth. "Jesus. I didn't know it was that bad. After we go over the Church incident, how about you take off early and see him? Take tomorrow off too. My orders."
"I would really appreciate that." David said as they entered his office and they began to discuss what was going on with the case.
An hour or so later, after slogging through NYC traffic, he showed up at the long term care facility that housed his father. /I really could use a shot of whiskey. I really could. Thank God, I have tomorrow off as well. I'm going to sleep in, then eat the biggest stack of pancakes New York City has ever seen. /
David's sense of obligation kicked him in the ass. Hard. It'd been two weeks since he'd seen his father and he felt guilty. He knew his dad wasn't going to live much longer, yet still avoided him. David entered the long term care facility, smiled at a nurse, then went to his father's room. A priest exited the door to his father's room, took a look at him, and scurried down the hall, to visit some other ailing Catholic.
"Hi Dad." David said, then came in with a smile. "I'm sorry that I haven't been by for a while." The man before him appeared to be wasting away, no longer the hearty man of his youth.
Carlos Salvatore lit up at the sight of his son. "Oh, I know you're busy with your life and work. I'm just glad to see you. I was talking to the priest just before you came in. Gave my confession. I need to make right with God over what I've done. He told me I need to start confessing and asking forgiveness for my sins."
"Then that won't take long because you were a good man and good father." David patted his father's hand.
"No, son. I'm not. I'm not a good man or father." Carlos coughed and David did what he could to make him comfortable. "But I have to get this off my chest. I can't wait anymore; it's been tearing me up for forty years. I stole you from someone who needed you far more than I did."
"What do you mean?" David was deathly still. Apprehension filled his mind and he wondered what his father was going to confess to.
Carlos tried to find the words but started telling a story, "It was a beautiful day when we went to the Park. I had the day off, so we packed a lunch and headed out. We took our only child with us, a happy boy. Light of our lives. There were a lot of other families there and we sat near, but not too close to, another happy family." He grabbed his cup of water and sipped from it.
He continued, "Our little boy approached another one and started playing. Neither of us cared. They were kids and in our sight. Besides, the dad looked like one of the military types. Strong, big, a good person. Trustworthy."
David did not like where this was going. That apprehension was beginning to ball up into his stomach and he felt it transform into more like dread.
"Then the gunfire started. I saw the woman take one to the chest, then the little girl gets gut shot. The man went down after two shots. I didn't think, I just ran over and grabbed one of the boys. It was…. chaos, a war zone, and both of them had dark hair. I ran over the hill with him. I glanced back and I saw the man hold a boy in his arms. The expression on his face will haunt me til the day I die. It was not what I would call sane, but I felt so much sorrow for him. I do to this day."
Carlos hit the button connected to an IV drip for more morphine. "I looked down and saw I had the wrong kid. During all the confusion, I grabbed his boy. He must of thought that the dead one was you. Couldn't blame him. He just watched his family get wasted. Reality plays funny tricks in extreme circumstances."
David could hardly believe this, but kept his cool. "What happened after?"
"My sergeant and I decided it would be best to allow everyone to think the entire Castle family got offed. We paid someone to make a false ID on the kid. So I let them bury Roberto with the Castles. We didn't want the mob to come after you, and I was protected. I was being paid by the Mafia at that time. If something happened to my family, the mob would have been exposed. One did not kill a cop with impunity at that time."
Now David started to lose his cool. "How could you do that? How could you do that to another father?"
Carlos admitted, "Yeah, it was a shitty thing to do, but we lost our boy. The only kid we were able to have. Your mother and I loved you and so we found a way to adopt you. It wasn't what I would call legal."
David searched himself and remembered calling out to his real father. "I barely remember this, but I cried for my dad for days. You told me that he didn't want me anymore. You told me until I believed it." He also remembered: Panic, terror, a flash of gold and crimson. A man screaming in pain.
"That was wrong of me, but what else was I going to say?" Carlos asked.
David stood up. He had enough of this and his anger rose, an inferno of both anger and profound sadness. "You helped create the Punisher. You helped damn a man."
"He made his own choices." Carlos started.
David snorted derisively. "You took a choice away from him when you stole me. I'm seriously pissed off right now and I need to leave and do some thinking before I say anything I'll regret." David stormed out of the room, unable to forgive his adopted father and torn by conflicting emotions. Carlos had been good to him, raised him to be a decent man. But on the other hand, he had been a corrupt cop and used his influence to conceal and steal another man's child.
He went directly back to his apartment and poured himself a stiff drink.
"It'll be easy to find out if he's telling the truth. I can just take a swab and swipe the inside of my mouth. The tech owes me a favor; I'll just have her do it off the record." He muttered and helped himself to another drink. Then another. "And if I need to double check his story, it won't be hard to take his DNA and compare it to the unknown boy."
By five, he was blazing drunk and he meandered over to his bed just in time to pass out. As like every time he imbibed too much, he 'enjoyed' no dreams. And he made sure he stayed drunk until the next day.
He came to work bleary eyed but able to function. It wasn't difficult for him to find a swab kit and take his own DNA. He gave it to the tech and told her to run it against the Castle DNA and that he would like the results as soon as possible. "Off the record, please."
The tech shrugged and did her job. He did a favor for her and so it was her time to do the same for him. She accepted the kit and got to work.
The FBI agent dug into his work, mostly writing a report then making a few calls.
David got an email from the tech later that afternoon, saying that the DNA was a match for both Frank and Maria Castle. David told his supervisor, Angelo, that he wasn't feeling well, and left for home. He almost caused a car accident, swerved in time to avoid it, then opted to pull off to the side of the road.
His heart started beating fast and he got dizzy. The world around him spun like a top and David knew he slipped into a full panic attack mode. Panic, terror. A flash of gold and crimson. A man screaming in fear.
This time, though, more details crept in. The girl lay yelling for "Daddy", as her intestines rolled out. Someone that had similar features as him, but larger in shoulders and heavier in muscle, cried out for her. A beautiful golden haired woman clutched at her chest while wordlessly begging the man for help. A shot took the other boy out that he wanted to play with. Strong hands that pulled him from the danger and away from his family.
Five minutes later, the terror subsided and he heard a knock. A cop peered in and David managed a smile. He sat up and rolled down the window.
"Are you OK, sir?" The officer noted this was a government vehicle. The plates and antenna gave it away. David saw the man, dressed in a crisp blue uniform, appeared to be concerned.
/I must look like hell/. David said to himself. Cars passed by, multitudes of colors. David wondered where they were going.
"I'm sorry, Officer. I wasn't feeling well so I pulled off to the shoulder. I'm doing better now." David managed a wan smile. Worn out is what he felt, as if he'd been put through several marathons.
"Mind if I see your license and registration?" The other man asked. Boredom etched on his face, overriding the concern that had been there a minute ago. The officer clearly heard it all before.
"Sure." He dug them out along with his badge and government ID.
"FBI?" The officer, last name of Samson, sounded surprised. He handed back everything given to him. "You go home and take care of yourself. I've seen dog turds healthier than you."
"I plan on it, sir." David watched the officer as he went back into his vehicle before driving toward home, he wanted to make sure the cop got in safely. The rest of the drive went uneventfully and he parked in the garage under his apartment.
He made dinner and ate on his loveseat. Tuna salad and milk. He turned on the TV and listened to the news. /Strange. No news of vigilante justice. In fact, it's been quiet on that front for some time. Did the woman kill the Punisher? Did someone else? / The activities of Daredevil didn't really count. He only smashed people's skulls in, he did not kill them-as far as David knew. Though how Daredevil avoided killing people was strictly by the grace of God. Daredevil could be a violent man.
But more importantly, what was he going to do? He knew he was obligated to recuse himself from the Church case, though that one was probably going to go cold. If he did take himself off the case, what would be his explanation? It wasn't like he could say 'Oh, I'm related to Castle.' If a reporter got wind of that, and it was juicy enough they just might, it would be plastered all over the news. He did not want to get shot at. Moreover, he did not necessarily want a visit from Frank Castle.
/Or do I? OK, maybe not having the news blast it, but am I morally obligated to let him know? As a dad, if I were in his shoes, I'd want to know. The question is: Does he? / David leaned back and stared at the ceiling. /Then there is the problem of finding him. NYC is huge and he could be in any of the Burroughs. Or in none of them. /
David put his plate away. /I'm in the FBI. I have resources at my disposal. My case? I could use that as an excuse to search for him.
He turned his attention back to the news. Some girl named Esme Walters ended up rescued by a huge man and his female companion. That piqued David's curiosity. It was piqued even more by the fact that she was a congressman's daughter.
/That's it./ He tossed on his work clothes, called work to let them know what was happening, then headed for Pennsylvania.
He pushed his way into the congressman's office and asked to see Esme. At first, Roger Walters did not want the FBI to interview his daughter, but she spoke up.
"I don't mind, Dad. I really don't." Esme smiled. "He was gruff and kind of scary, like a drill sergeant. The girl, about my age, seemed nice and sweet, even if she had a rifle on her. They wore stuff you might see in the Army. I asked who they were and the man said, 'We're environmentalists.' But they weren't. Militia or paramilitary, maybe."
He brought out pictures of Frank then a blown up picture of Rogue from the church surveillance. "Do you recognize these people?"
"That's them!" Esme exclaimed.
"Do you know where they were heading?" He asked, all professional.
"New York City." She said. "I saw a road sign as they dropped me off. Said New York City 58 miles."
David asked another question, "Did the woman say what her name was?"
Esme shook her head, blonde locks all silky and free, "No. Neither did he. Just gave me advice on who not to trust and gave me dinner money. Do you know who they are?"
"The woman, no. I was hoping you could help me with that, but that's ok. You've been extremely helpful. The man, however, is Frank Castle otherwise known as the Punisher." David slid the pictures back in his folder.
Both of the Walters' eyes widened. "I thought he killed people. Why didn't he kill me?" Esme thought of the bikers then blushed. She was being stupid.
"He does, but only certain kinds of people. Drug dealers, murderers, rapists, human traffickers—people who commit heinous crimes." David supplied. "In fact, he and his companion are wanted in connection to slayings of several organized crime members. It's why I'm here, to attempt to track them down." That hunch of his paid off. Big time.
"Oh. She seemed so nice." Esme faltered.
David felt like he was dealing with a simpleton. "Can you remember anything else?" He wanted to get going. The hunt was getting in his blood. And besides that, the girl hurt his brain.
"The license number is 345 SIX. I saw it when I came up to their van. I have a good memory for numbers." Esme smiled at David, all bubbly innocence.
/My God, I'm dealing with an idiot savant!/ David thought with a thick vein of sarcasm. "Thank you both. You've been most helpful." He shook the congressman's hand then went to his car. It was going to be a long day.