Karen glanced around. She was in a little room, with shelves on the poorly-painted walls and a desk in the middle – maybe an office, back in the days where this building was still used ? A broken camera was hanging sadly in one of the upper corners.
When she had stopped as the door of what looked like an abandonned warehouse, a man had appeared before she had the time to do anything – the watchmen outside had probably warned him of her arrival. He had lead her inside the building, barely without a word, and for a bried second she had wondered if they were planning on killing her right there. That would make sense – she was supposed to have deleted all the files she had on them and to have brought that fucking register, the one which was in the police station out of her reach, with her. Her hand had found her way in her bag to the handle of her .380 and the feeling of the cold metal against her palm had been conforting.
"Gimme the register now Miss Page."
She focused back on the man with her.
She could only see his eyes because of his mask, but they were wide and kinda childlish. There was also a tremor in her voice. Karen did her best to hide her surprise – what, they really thought she was that harmless ? She still had managed to stole the register right under their nose and to shot one of them when he had found her doing what she did best – digging into shit she wasn't supposed to dig in. Or they decided he was an expendable loss. That, that wouldn't surprised her.
"How do I know me and... and my... boyfriend..."
The word seemed so strange.
"How do I know you'll let us go ?"
He shrugged.
"Guess you'll just have to trust us, Miss Page."
He was trying to sound confident and slightly threatening, but that wasn't really convincing. Karen almost felt offended that they had sent him to deal with her.
"And if I doesn't ?"
She crossed her arms against her chest – feeling the shape on the riffle under her trench coat – and held up her chin. She was taller than him, even without heels.
"I have set a program on my phone, you know. If I just press a certain button and shake it, it calls the police and displays my location."
He looked puzzled, so she pushed.
"So, if you attempt anything... I guess you can see what will happen."
"But... but if the police comes, we will kill our hostage."
Her heart clenched at that words, but she did her best to hide it.
"I know, that's why I'll call them only if we're already in danger. It's a safety, you see, so you don't even think about messing up with me."
Karen took a deep breath. Talking time was almost over now...
"So, that being said, you just have to bring my... boyfriend there, and I'll give you what you want, and we'll both leave, okay ?"
"But... that... You're supposed to give it to me first, and..."
She shook her head.
"No."
"But... I... Okay, I'll see with the others. Stay there."
She bit the inside of her cheek to suppress a satisfied smile.
"If you try to run away, know that there are guards outside." He added.
She nodded.
"I won't move."
He looked at her for a few more secs, then he muttered something indistinct and finally left the room. Karen sighed in relief – it was exactly what she was waiting for. She took off her trench coat, revealing the white skull on her chest, took off the tape keeping the riffle in place and checked one last time if it was loaded. She leaned against the desk, eased the weapon against her shoulder and aimed at the door, approximately at head level. Then she waited. She was suddenly very calm, heart beating slowly in her chest, steady hands and dertemined gaze.
After a few minutes, she caught footsteps in the corridor and her finger ghosted on the trigger. It felt like the door opened very slowly, creaking, revealing the masked face of the man who she had talked to. He stopped dead in his tracks, eyes widening as he spot the gun barrel pointed at him – but she had already fired. As he hit the ground, without having had the time to process what had happened, Karen heard warried mumbles outside, so she didn't move. Then two men came in, then two gunshots rang at her ears.
She lowered her riffle, listening carefully. No one seemed to be on her immediate surroundings. She stepped over the dead bodies at the doorstep, glimpsed in the corridor... and backed up quickly after she had came face to gun with another man waiting outside. The bullet hit the wall a few inchs away from her head and her blood ran cold. She could have died, right here.
But she hadn't.
In a blink, she was outside the room, her shoulder bumping against the wall in front of the door. Her weapon twitched in her hands as she took the shot. Karen missed, but the other didn't and a throb of pain under her breast told her a bullet had hit her vest. She was right to have put it on. Her second attempt put her opponent on the ground, grunting in pain. She kicked his pistol far away from him, checked if he was bearing another weapon – he wasn't –, picked up his gun and put it under one of the straps of her vest, thinking it could always be useful. When she straightened herself again, she noticed the injured man's gaze locked up on her chest... or rather on the white skull there.
"You're... you can't be him..."
Karen tilted her head a bit, enjoying the moment despite herself.
"You aren't the Punisher."
"Nah, but he's a friend."
She had to hold back a smile – a "friend", uh... More like a lover, though that was more Frank Castle than the Punisher she was in love in. The second didn't really do well with friends.
She raised her arm, pointing her riffle at the man's fronthead.
"He would kill you." She added in a matter-of-fact tone, then lowered her weapon. "But I won't. Moreover, I want you to tell the others that there is a lady in town too."
Then she walked away.
She had felt so damn powerful in that moment. Like, for once, she was in control of her own life and she was finally able to fight for the people she cared about, to protect them instead of being always the one that needed protection. Now the tables had turned and for she was the one bad guys were frightened by.
Her footsteps were echoing along the empty and poorly-lighted corridors, as she wasn't even trying to muffle them. The assault riffle in her hands had warmed up and it was a conforting weight. It was easy to fire at a man right in front of you in such a narrow path – you didn't have the time to think about what you were doing. She was acting on instinct solely, and a part of her was a bit frightened by how good her instinct was at it. It was almost too easy.
As to proved her wrong, a bullet hit her back. She winced in pain and her grip on her weapon loosened – to the point she dropped it when two more bullets found their target. She finally managed to turn around, trying her best to ignore her aching body, and took the handgun she had picked up earlier out of the waistband of her shirt – her own was still in her bag, out of reach for now. She got shot once more – and this one was really close to her exposed skin – before firing in turn. He wasn't wearing any bullet-proof clothes, so the fight was over in a sec.
Karen brushed back a loose lock of blonde hair, catching her breath, then reached out for the riffle at her feets. She swallowed the lump in her throat – she almost died again – and hastily leaved the area.
She was beginning to wonder if David's informations, about the location of Frank's phone, were correct – or maybe the cellphone was there but the man wasn't, or... – when she stumbled accross a guarded door. One bullet was enough to clear the way and she tightened her grip on her weapon before kicking the door open. There was two people there – one of the gang members, and the man she was there for. She shot the first without a second thought.
Karen lowered her riffle as their opponent stumbled backward, then fell on the ground, hands clentched at the holes in his chest. Her attention immediatly flew to Frank, still tied up, who was looking at the now-dead man. In a blink, she took note of his hunched shoulders, his bruised face, the drooplets of blood on his shirt, and... the stab wound on his thigh, that wasn't there before.
Then he turned his head and their gazes met.
.
.
I hope you're still on board ! I'm a bit afraid Karen is ooc in there, but...
Let me know what you think !
