My Daddy; My Hero

Sirens in the distance signalled that this was a standard Friday night in a very troubled city. Troubled in the means of population, culture and society. The population was going bad, culture was going bankrupt and society was crumbling. Frank forced himself to forget about that part of the city for now, that part of the problem. He had told Yorkkie that he would help him, not that he had much of a choice anyways, but he would stand by his word.

Enjoy it while you can, fuckers, Frank thought as he wandered the streets, leaving the two British to see if they could get any more out of Peter. In the process of "investigation" they had found out that Finn had brought in a hired gun from Ireland, a real bitch of a woman. Jade Gallows, aka Vendetta.

"Yeah, Ah know o' 'er," Yorkkie had said, drinking down bitter, old coffee at a dinner not too far from their hide away. "She's one o' them I.R.A. killers fer 'ire. She'll off anyone fer a buck, though. Equal opportunity killah."

"Do you think they brought her in for the Westies, or the River Rats?" Frank asked, eating a bite of tasteless omelette and swallowing the greasy mass. "Or Maginty?"

"Not at the price she's sellin'," Yorkkie shook his head with a disheartened look on his face. "She ain't no ordinary lass, Frank. This girl's Black Irish Catholic; she's got Satan in her, if ya believe the Protestants."

"I don't..."

"Either way, she ain't here for any pathetic gang, Ah think Finn brought 'er in ta take care of you, lad."

"Is that so..."

Their diner conversation ran through his mind, time and time again. Who was this mysterious Jade woman? Yorkkie's guess was a good one, it wasn't the first time that someone had been desperate enough to hire outside help to get rid of him, but was that the real reason? Was this snake Peter even telling the truth?

Frank wandered for a good hour or so before he turned back towards the warehouse, the only sounds this late at night, even in this seedy part of New York, was the distant cry of sirens and the sound of Frank's shoes, clicking softly on the concrete of the sidewalk. Every now and then, a scream would call out into the night, a car would pass him, or a homeless beggar would beg him for all he could spare, but other than that, the city was asleep.

The sleep was disturbed by an outraged cry and a blood curdling shriek coming from the alley next to Frank's warehouse. A questioning eyebrow rose and he peered in, this close to home there was no harm in doing a little regular work on the side of this "side job". He expected to see a whore, or perhaps just a regular looking girl, being manhandled by a pimp or rapist, what he didn't expect was for that "regular looking girl" to be the same girl who had dropped an ID noting her as Barbara Castle.

Frank quickly caught the attention of the would be attacker, a small white man about 25 with a junkie physique, frightening him enough to throw Barbara to the ground. She fell, hitting a dumpster and tossing her into a world of blackness. That just succeeded in causing Frank to become even more possessed by his anger.

The larger form of Castle lunged at the attacker, knocking him to the ground with one easy blow. That wasn't enough though. Frank hauled the 120 lbs man to his feet, jamming him backward into the brick of the wall and snarled ferally in his face. Frank's intimidating appearance did more than cause the man to cry, Frank's nose also detected the sharp smell of urine as the piece of shit pissed himself in fear.

"You're pathetic," Frank snarled, spit leaping angrily from his lips and attacking the junkie's face. "You aren't even worth my time." He tossed him towards the mouth of the alley, and the junkie, all too happy to be free, apologized and ran on his way.

Walking to the mouth of the alley, Frank withdrew a pistol and shot him in the back of the head.

With that dealt with, the more immediate importance of the unconscious girl came to light. Whether or not she was indeed his daughter, she did bear ID proving at least half of it was true, she did bear the name "Castle". She also couldn't be left here to become prey of an even lower kind of evil. Her slender form was hoisted up onto Frank's shoulder and he carried her out of the alley, finding a pink purse by the dumpster. He picked it up and peeked inside. A wallet, probably full of identification cards would prove her real self surely.

He wouldn't take her back to where they were keeping the rotten Irish prick, her apartment was in a building a block away, he had seen her there, going into the building, and when they were searching for the mysterious woman, now known to be one Jade Gallows, he had come across her just after a shower, as he had observantly noticed.

As he neared the apartment building, Yorkkie was standing outside, having a smoke.

"Where'd ya find 'er?" he asked looking at the woman Frank carried, smirking inwardly at the fact the Punisher, a man who had killed a number of men even God couldn't calculate, was holding a pink purse.

"In an alley, she lives up there." Frank gestured with his head, into the building that stood ominous and dark.

"Ya mean tha' buildin'? Tha one Andy saw Gallows comin' from?" Yorkkie continued to question. Judging by the look on Frank's face, he was beginning to understand where the British agent was heading.

"She ain't Gallows," Frank said sternly, wanting so much to believe that his daughter was actually alive; wanting so much to be able to protect her again. A small spark of Frank Castle had been awoken by this woman, hoax or not, Frank preferred to think of this unassuming girl who had yet to cause trouble as a murderous Irish siren.

"Well, Andy said she wasn't that old lookin', 'cept the hair, from wha' 'e could tell," Yorkkie wasn't going to let this one pass. He had a strong feeling that Castle, for the first time ever, was letting emotions wrap him up for the wrong cause.

"Fine, but Andy ain't gonna tell ya she's Gallows."

Shit, shit, shit. Goin' inta th' lion's den now.