Mutant Mutandis, A Punisher Story
A foreword from the Author
There will be plenty of Original Characters in the story, based off of characters from other shows, from original ideas of my own, and of my friends. To those who know who they are, thank you for contributing and allowing me to use your originals in this story.
To my friendgirl
To friend number 1
Leave reviews and message me if you'd like - I'll appreciate it!
In terms of canonical placement, this takes place after my Roanapur's Bane story, featuring the NETFLIX Punisher.
Enjoy.
Sergeant Brett Mahoney was called in for a triple homicide.
It'd been a couple months since he'd last heard of The Punisher being in New York. The plus side was he wouldn't need another Punisher brief on a weekly basis, but the downside was there were more gangs running around freely in New York. Since his last interaction with Castle, things had returned to some amalgamation of normal.
But things had taken a turn for the odd recently - kidnappings, and dozens of them, too, were being reported in New York. There were even more nation wide, which came up in the news last week, also as far as his desk. A memo about what they needed to watch for during investigations.
That's just what he needed.
Arriving on the scene, there were already detectives there. One of them, a transfer from another unit had the name Paul Budiansky. He, too, was dark in complexion, had run ins with Frank Castle, and a messy history.
Thinking that made his mind flash back to the moment where him, Curtis and Madani were standing in front of the corpse of Billy Russo. Five bullet holes, and that's how he had to write the report - Dinah Madani shot him five times and he crawled his dying ass all the way to that basement.
Mahoney shook the thought from his mind as Budiansky approached him-
"Sergeant Mahoney. Real piece of work."
"Tell me about it."
"Three college kids were trying to by dope off a drug dealer. Dealer tried robbing one, one of the kids had a gun, the dealer's muscle swooped in and dropped the three right after. At least, that's word from a witness. Same thing from the guy who called it in."
Mahoney furrowed his brow, rubbing his forehead-
"That's just great. Any leads?"
Budiansky shook his head, "Not anything tangible. Woman was frenetic, I think she was saying they literally swooped in."
Mahoney clicked his tongue. "I wouldn't be surprised, shit I've dealt with and seen." Budiansky grinned - "Yeah, I've been through the whole deal right with you, Brett."
From Daredevil to Luke Cage, these two have been in the muck in New York for some time. Just around the time Frank went full Punisher, Budiansky and him had been on cases streaked with underground syndicates, weird symbols, and pools of blood. The amount of times one of these investigations led to a rabbit hole of black ink and fake stories began to twist Mahoney to the bone.
"Well, we can't just say a bird man tried killing them, right?"
Budiansky rubbed his head, face pursing into a grimace. "That's the thing... They have deep claw marks and punctures all over their body. The kid with the gun looks like his arm was torn off."
Mahoney swept his hand, "Alright, Paul. Sounds like someone actually swooped in, then. See how far you can get with DNA, someone must've had something. I'm gonna smoke."
Brett Mahoney didn't smoke until a few months ago when the Punisher cases got real grimy. He'd gone after some Turkish syndicate, Mahoney recalled; trafficking people, kids, that sort of taboo work. The Punisher disemboweled a few of them, lit one on fire, recorded it and sent it somewhere.
Mahoney walked to the nearest alleyway, just barely out of view. He took a pack from his back left pocket - smashed from sitting on them - and pulled one out. As he pressed the filter end to his lips, he heard something to his left.
There he was.
Frank Castle.
Mahoney couldn't really believe it was him. He had a few more scars, and they looked recent. Mahoney just sighed, looking back to the ground as he lit the cigarette.
"So, Thailand was eventful?"
"You smoke, Mahoney?"
Mahoney scoffed; "Yeah, ever since you pulled that Turk apart, I started to."
Frank pursed his mouth and nodded. "Understandable."
Frank was wearing his black trench coat, black toboggan and jeans. He propped himself on the wall just to the left of Mahoney; barely out of view if anyone were to glance in the alleyway.
Jut like old times.
Old being four months ago.
"I saw it happen."
Mahoney turned his head, raising his eyebrow at the vigilante.
"And you didn't kill them?"
Frank stared back into Mahoney's eyes, his brow furrowing. "No. I was eating at the diner, overheard the kids talking about their little drug deal and tailed them. Led me here, so I perched myself on top of the roof across from the alley with my Surgeon."
Mahoney nodded.
"You were the one that called it in, huh?"
Frank nodded, and Mahoney responded with an exasperated sigh.
"So, something really did fly in?"
Castle nodded slowly, turning his head back down the dark alley, then back to Mahoney.
"Yes."
Mahoney took a long drag from his cigarette, blowing it into the air, shaking his head. Great, he thought, so now there's mutants running around New York and eating people.
"That's not the only thing. The kidnappings, I think they're related."
"Indulge me, Frank, please."
Castle pulled a folded piece of paper from his jacket, offering it to Mahoney. He took it, opening it and examining the pictures within. Castle began, "All the people you see there are the ones who've disappeared from New York alone. College students, disappeared in singles or groups of three and larger. Profile matches; going to buy drugs from someone and disappearing."
Mahoney sighed, Castle continuing.
"This is the only muff they've had."
"You're already back in it, huh?"
Frank stared at Mahoney for a long moment, then nodded. "I'm giving this to you so you can look out for the next group of kids who do something like this. And in return, if you get a lead-" Castle held up a burner phone, "-call me."
Mahoney took the phone.
God dammit Castle, what the hell-
Mahoney looked up to see that Castle had already disappeared into the alley. He shoved the burner in his pocket, dropped the cig, and stamped it out.
Back to work.
At The Punisher's Warehouse
Frank Castle pondered what he could do in the meantime. Within the first week or so of him being back, he's already amassed something of a worklist. Kidnappings, faux drug deals, and now the savage, animal like murder of these kids. Just another day in New York, he thought to himself. Like a few years ago when New York was attacked, everyone just carried on like nothing happened.
He had access to the database - thanks to Madani - to look through everything they had on anyone. The criteria were mutants, criminally related. Last known locations, aliases, associated groups, the works.
A slew of names began popping up, but nobody he was interested in. Small timers, nothing associated with kidnapping, murder of this pattern, or human trafficking. Well, a couple murderers; but they were behind bars.
The Punisher laid back in his chair, huffing at the amount of dead ends he's had with shitty situations like this. Some college kids get murdered, then it gets swept up - and sometimes even he can't put a finger on it.
The men he put down don't haunt him, it's the ones he didn't.
Three Days later
Castle woke with a start. It wasn't irregular for him to be torn from his place of rest in Kandahar to be thrown in some shithole half an hour later. So, emergency calls like this were normal for him.
"This us Unit 5-1, we have a kidnapping in progress. Shots fired, send available units. Vehicle description; white van, license plate number; GAP4563, yellow plates. Last seen location, northbound from Central Park to Manhattan Avenue, Hell's Kitchen."
Castle sprung off his bed and grabbed his vest off a table, hauling it over his chest and adorning the skull-adorned plate carrier. A white, painted skull on a black base. Magazine carriers were at the bottom, shrouding a groin plate that hung freely. Smaller pouches around the rib plates for handgun magazines. A small pouch on the right shoulder for a gadget of any kind.
The Punisher took Castle's place.
The Punisher had enough of an armory in his van to suit up on the fly, if necessary. Right now wasn't the time for a methodical gun selection in his home. Now was the time for action. The Punisher bolted through the warehouse, climbed in his black van, then took off.
Unnamed Warehouse, Central Hell's Kitchen
The Punisher found the van. During his time in transit, he'd called Mahoney, telling him that he'd be on the case. Mahoney sounded annoyed, but The Punisher got his message across.
He wouldn't be disturbed.
For this unique scenario, he'd want something that packed a punch, but wouldn't penetrate too far through surfaces to prevent injuring whoever these poor kids were. Brugger and Thomet's MP9 - high rate of fire, small, and had a number of capabilities. Typically, he packed hollow-points for maximum damage to soft targets without penetration. His secondary was already in his thigh holster; an EAA Tangfolio Witness Pro in 10MM.
Something for these guys if they didn't go down with the nine.
The Punisher grabbed the MP9 from the built in door holster, taking three of the 30 round magazines in the door and slotting them in the magazine pouches on his chest.
Pushing the door open, The Punisher slowly closed it behind him, the van locking itself. The warehouse was ahead, and The Punisher could already foresee some kind of horror unfolding within. He heard a scream - which was immediately silenced. Unfolding the stock to the MP9, he pressed it to his shoulder, flicked off the safety, and brought the Aimpoint Red Dot optic to his sight-line.
It was go time.
The Punisher moved low, scything through the night's cover and bringing himself into the alley bordering the warehouse, separating it and some abandoned office building. Back to the wall, The Punisher crept through the alley; eyes open, ears open, waiting for something to set off his alarms.
He heard a sizzle, then another scream.
Were they burning them?
The Punisher grimaced. He'd never directly fought against mutants in his time in and out of fighting crime. The worst things flowed through his mind for a moment, then he stifled them, as he always stifled these thoughts when in need of focus.
The Punisher rounded the back of the warehouse, seeing a collection of vehicles - including the one he tailed parked in the lot. Turning right, The Punisher moved through an open steel door to look at the inside of the hangar. It must've been used to once store aircraft in suspenders due to the high ceiling and assembly of rafters.
Inside, there were several crates stacked in shelves in neat aisles, some of which were cracked open, men and women alike collecting things from them and taking them to the vehicles. One of the workers raised his odd looking snout and sniffed the air.
Shit.
The Punisher crossed a brief opening, silently hustling into an aisle, gun up and moving.
"I smell something,"
The Punisher heard, grimacing at the thought of someone with senses that keen being around to smell him slinking around.
"It's nothin', move the crates."
"You sure?"
The Punisher heard a fist crack someone in the skull, followed by that person collapsing to the ground.
"I damn am sure, ya fuckin' twerp! Git'chur ass up 'n keep movin'! Don't wanna freak the others."
The Punisher guessed whoever that was he'd need to take out too. All in due time - right now, he needed to rescue these kids. Continuing down the alley, he walked for a good two dozen meters before coming to a stop. Peering around the corner, he saw three men standing around three women. All of them were stripped, their clothes tossed in a heap to the side.
College kids.
One of the men wore skinny jeans, an orange jacket, and had overly flamboyant, blond hair - a sickening grin crossing his olive skinned face. The man's left hand was orange, and his right held an iron brand - used for marking cattle.
The Punisher kept his thoughts stifled as he leveled his MP9.
The second man was tall, maybe around six-six, and wore a hoodie. He was facing away from The Punisher, looking down on the hostages.
Can't get a good look at that one.
The other man looked relatively normal. White button up dress shirt, black slacks and dress shoes. Dark, combed hair with stubble lining his pale face.
Hell, he'd mistake him for one of these kids if he saw the guy outside of here.
In fact...
One of the students held a hand up, looking into the white-collar man's eyes. "Niko... Please... Don't do this..." The man didn't answer, just nodded at Orange Jacket. Orange Jacket laughed, pressing the red-hot brand into the girl's back. Her exposed skin sizzled, and she crumpled onto the ground - a blood-curdling scream emerging from her.
The Punisher scowled and held it. He felt himself rise, but he quickly ducked back into cover when a fourth man came into view.
The man towered over the rest, easily seven and a half feet tall. Some blood coated his massive right fist. The man's bald, with pronounced facial features that looked something from an animation. He was old, too, sporting old stubble that looked poorly kept. The big guy wore gym clothes; a tank top, gym shorts and sneakers.
Fucker definitely looks like he goes there a lot, The Punisher thought - He's first, I can't beat a guy like that in close quarters combat.
The thought about after he shot these guys down pressed into his mind.
I'd go out through the front, directly to my van. I have enough white phos on hand to make a decent fire once I take these guys out. Get the girls out. Turn them over to Mahoney somewhere.
The Punisher lined his MP9 up with the big guy.
"Keep a lookout, Nick said he sniffed up somethin' while movin' crates. Punched his ass good, didn' wanna scare the others."
The man in the hoodie rotated his head, an orange, beak-like appendage emerging from the hood. The Punisher saw it move, but didn't pay any attention as he squeezed the trigger.
Five rounds of 9x19 spattered over the big guy's body. The guy jumped to the side, clutching his chest in a manner of shock, but he didn't fall. Instead, the man planted his feet and spun to meet his attacker - making eye contact with The Punisher.
"Holy fuckin' shit, boys, a rat snuck in!"
Around him, he could hear and see the workers - whoever they were - begin to scramble.
The Punisher cursed. The beak-man turned around, the hoodie tearing from his chest, revealing raven wings that spread double his height, the figure was barrel-chested with black fur covering his whole body. His head was oblong, like a Hawk's, and had hunger in his eye.
Orange Jacket looked over at The Punisher and grinned.
"Ha! You're fucking dead!"
The Punisher stood up and approached, holding the trigger down on the big man. The big guy rose his arms over his face as the nine millimeter rounds peppered his body, leaving nothing but welts and bruises.
Saving the last round, The Punisher aimed down and fired a round straight into his groin.
The big guy dropped, clutching his crotch and hollering.
The Hawk swept his wings across the floor and whipped them at The Punisher, dozens of feathery spines assaulting The Punisher's body. He pulled his arm over his face as multiples of these projectiles punched into his vest and skin like needles.
It was painful, but not excruciating.
The orange-jacketed man elbowed the white collar man, who up until that point, had been blankly staring at The Punisher.
Through his fingers, The Punisher could see the nonverbal exchange, and the white collar man sighed. He walked by the Hawk, patting him on the wing, saying; "I got this," - and as the Punisher lowered his arms and began to swap the magazines, flames danced around this man's feet.
His body began slowly enlarging, the skin peeling off, fire pulsating from his veins as he approached the Punisher, speaking in a calm demeanor - "I'm going to have to eat you, now." Some demonic circle erupted at his feet, coating the man in a hellish firestorm.
The hot wind whipped at The Punisher's body, but he stood tall.
The Punisher had swapped his magazines, but by the time he did, this man's body had contorted into an eight foot creature that looked straight from the depths of Tartarus. Sinewy, charred flesh covered his entire body - legs turned lupine like, form grossly emaciated, yet finely muscled like some demonic imp.
Flames danced at his feet, careening up the curves of his new demonic body that had torn its way through the old one - the man's skull had mutated and contorted into a goat skull, dangerously pointed horns on top of his head.
The man's body was coated in fire, almost, and The Punisher had never been more unsure in a fight.
Niko, as he heard the student call him, craned over and dug horrific looking claws into the ground.
Shit, he's going to charge at me.
The Punisher began backing up, targeting a burst of 9x19 into the man's right kneecap, causing him to crash to a knee. He changed targets, hitting the demon's left foot and taking his other leg from under him. Niko howled, crawling at the ground, trying to clamber his way to The Punisher.
The Punisher circled left, shifting targets to the bird man as he remained out of range from the demon man.
The demon extended his hand, the swirling flames around his body centering at his palm, generating an orb of molten material - firing it at The Punisher.
Breaking the sight-line, The Punisher dropped his left shoulder and rolled, dodging the molten ball as it hurtled through the air. It melted straight through the aisles behind him. Popping up, The Punisher drew his sights.
The Hawk had crossed the distance, using his wings to swoop into The Punisher's range. The Punisher winced as one of Hawk's claw hands grabbed the MP9 with an intense strength he didn't understand, tearing it from his hands.
Shit.
The Punisher stepped back, going for the EAA Witness in his holster.
The Punisher saw Hawk lunge forward, burying his left claw into The Punisher's forearm. The Punisher grunted from the pain, but immediately whipped his left fist into the Hawk's neck. The Hawk drew back, emanating a screech as he flapped his wings, creating a gust that swept through air like a gale, tossing The Punisher off his feet and carrying The Hawk into the air.
The orange jacketed man was directly behind him, the red-hot brand in his hand. Jacket had it over his shoulder, throwing it like a spear at The Punisher. He barely had any time as he tumbled, using his left forearm to shove him into an aisle as the brand soared past him.
The Punisher looked up to see The Hawk in a nose dive for him, and The Punisher felt for his handgun.
Still there.
The Punisher gripped it, almost pulling it out. But the Punisher felt an interruption. His left arm and vest were grabbed from behind - through the aisle. The Punisher reveled at who that could be, so he turned only to see the bald head and maniacal grin of a man he shot in the dick only moments earlier.
The Punisher tried ripping the handgun from his holster, but the big man ripped him through the aisle, slinging him into the next one with a cannonade of clanging from his body bending the racks.. The Punisher felt the breath get knocked out of him, and he couldn't move his left arm.
Back hurt, too.
Fuck.
The Punisher groped for his handgun, but watched as this big man grabbed his right arm and lifted him off the ground.
The big man hauled The Punisher over his head, staring up at The Punisher like he's some helpless creature. The lour in The Punisher's face was never greater than at this moment, strung up like some animal in front of this bald, bullet proof maniac.
"You got a real good sense about ya, huh, mister Punisher? I tell ya what, you fight good an' dirty, jus' how a like it, an-" The big man was interrupted by Orange Jacket approaching behind him.
"Al, just dispose of him already, you talk too much."
The big man huffed, turning behind him to look at the orange-jacket man and Hawk. Behind them was that Niko guy, sort of hobbling on one of his legs, but still fully transformed and ready to melt him.
So, this guy's name is Al, huh?
"Hey Al." The Punisher sneered, pulling his right leg back in preparation for a heavy kick.
Al turned to face the him, just as The Punisher whipped his right leg up in a heavyweight kick, burying the toe of his boot in Al's throat. Al choked, an expression of pain crossing his face, dropping the Punisher.
He's bullet proof, but not invincible. I'll have to remember that.
He landed on his back, immediately grasping for the EAA Witness on his thigh.
He ripped it out, instincts kicking in and immediately squeezed rounds off.
The Punisher aimed directly up and squeezed two rounds into Al's crotch. The man howled through his broken throat - the sound of a culled animal being slaughtered as he fell back, clutching red gonads. The Punisher pushed off his right elbow, propelling himself to his feet, he aimed back down at Al and squeezed five rounds into his big, shiny head.
The Punisher looked up to see Orange Jacket bolting at him, the Hawk man hot in tow. Raising the EAA Witness, The Punisher squeezed off two rounds into the chest of Orange Jacket, flooring him. Hawk hesitated as The Punisher shifted his aim.
Then, The Punisher wasn't standing.
He was staring at the ceiling.
The Punisher's legs had been suddenly swept out from under him by an unseen force, and his eyes were to the sky. Above him was the big, bald man who's grin stretched from ear to ear. The Punisher could almost hear his laughter as his fist raised high, then swooped down, delivering a chest-breaking punch directly into The Punisher's plate carrier before he could squeeze the round off. The Punisher felt the air violently propelled from his lungs, and when he tried to inhale again, all The Punisher felt was pain.
And all he tasted was copper.
Al raised his fist again.
"Fuck you ya' throat kickin', dick shootin' fuck!"
This man hit me hard enough to blow through the trauma liner and collapse my lungs in an instant. I'm gonna die, and it's to this big, bald asshole.
But the finishing blow never came.
A short metal rod flung into Al's eye, forcing him to stumble back, the rod bouncing behind The Punisher somewhere. The Hawk, tending to the orange jacketed man looked up and stared in more bewilderment.
Some figure soared over The Punisher, delivering a kick straight to Al's groin and forcing him back.
The Punisher's eyes began to blur, his mind turning a blank as blood coagulated further in his mouth and lungs.
Soon, he'd die, but as he died, he'd watched the events unfold before him.
This red figure watched as Al stumbled, then swept his legs out from under him with a kick to his knees. Once Al was on the ground, the man whacked Al in the mouth with the metal rod The Punisher saw earlier.
The Punisher used his last amount of strength to haul himself to his left, just so he could slump himself on a shelf where he'd die, blood pooling out of his mouth and over his skull vest.
The Punisher recalled something David Lieberman said to him years ago,
A momento mori, huh, David? Fuck you.
The red man darted around The Punisher's vision, his figure leaping over to the Hawk, delivering a series of flashy, effective blows that were all blurs to The Punisher as his vision faded.
His eyes were almost closed.
The others ran away.
The red man came close.
There were horns on his head.
Could it be...?
The last things The Punisher heard before the world went black gave him the slightest hope of winning this war.
Even if he was on the brink of death.
He'd come back.
Like last time.
He wouldn't die here.
"You look like shit, Frank."
Red, you sly dog...
Then his world went black.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
Humans
Frank Castle, The Punisher
(Ex-Marine turned gun-slinging vigilante who wages an eternal war against crime)
Paul Budiansky
(NYPD Detective)
Brett Mahoney
(NYPD Detective)
Dinah Madani
(CIA Agent)
Matthew Murdock, Daredevil
(Attorney with an undercover crime fighting vigilante alias. Uses non lethal methods)
Mutants/Super-humans/Enhanced humans
Luke Cage
(Club owner and bulletproof man capable of incredible feats of endurance.)
Jessica Jones
(Private Investigator with superhuman abilities and uncontrollable flight.)
Danny Rand, The Iron Fist
(Company owner who uses the powers of chi.)
Grisha Turner
(Vigilante who is pursuing Mutant Mutandis in pursuit of her kidnapped sister. Can manipulate the gravitational effect of objects she touches; including herself. Can also sense living creatures around her out to a five mile radius.)
Axel Valderas
(First head of Mutant Mutandis. Can mutate his bone structure and regenerate it.)
Silent Sam
(Second head of Mutant Mutandis. Can spawn black tentacles from his back and arms; capable of morphing into a variety of fleshy and bone constructs)
Salvadore "Al" Savannah
(Third head of Mutant Mutandis. Has superhuman traits of damage resistance, speed, strength and perception. Can overcharge his body to make split second movements for up to two minutes.)
Niko Balzac
(Henchman of Salvadore. Can transform into an eight foot tall, Baphomet goat demon.)
"Hawk" Hovine
(Henchman of Salvadore. Carnivorous bird man who can shoot spines from his wings.)
Arwyd Versio
(Henchman of Salvadore. Can heat up parts of his body to the melting point of the object he touches.)
Hutch Addington
(Henchman of Sam. Can rot what he touches with five fingers on either hand.)
Mira Horane
(Henchman of Sam. Can emit black acidic goo from her body.)
Sakura
(Henchman of Sam. Can emit asphyxiating mist from her body that causes hallucinations.)
Douglas Chapman
(Henchman of Axel. Has a very high pain tolerance and can shut out nerve restrictions. Has hidden weapons embedded in his body; spikes on his knees and elbows, blades in his wrists, spring loaded forearms, gun hands, and embedded plating around his ribcage.)
Maro Tacard
(Henchman of Axel. Can move his shoulders and arms at superhuman speeds with increased strength.)
Corey Shawe
(Henchman of Axel. Can mutate and regenerate his flesh.)