"The Punisher: City of Hate"

The Reverend followed the short line of congagrets out through the big oak doors of the once beautiful inner-city church.The Reverend was dissapointed,although he was used to having to preach to only a few people at the 10:00 Mass,he was saddened by how,over the years,he had watched as the people in the seats grew smaller and smaller,to where the only people were the bums looking to sleep somewhere warm.

"At least its used for something good," he mumbled as he entered back through those same oak doors.

He heard a cough and looked to his left. A bum sat there,coughing,and shivering,for he had just come from the bitter cold that had engulfed the night outside. The reverend found the basket of that nights offerings to the church.There was only a few dollars and some change.He scooped up the money and walked back to the bum.

"Here," said the Reverend.The Bum gazed down at the money that had just been placed on his lap,as if it appeared there by magic.

The bum looked up,"Th...th...thank you..." he managed to stammer.

"Spend it on a hot meal," Reverend replied.

Turning away from the benches back toward the altar, he gazed upon a man that stood in front of the altar, seeming to gaze up at the crucifix that hung on the wall behind it. He walked slowly up behind the man. The man was tall, and looked muscular, but the Reverend could not tell for sure, because the man wore a long trenchcoat.He had dark hair, and as he walked up next to him, noticed that he had a few scars along his face. "Looking for salvation, son?"

The man didn't move, didn't turn to acknowledge him, and for a moment, the Reverend wondered if he had stumbled upon some weird statue that had been misplaced in front of his altar. The man finally moved, his face, while still turned away, inclined his face more toward the Reverend.

"Salvation...from what? "His voice was a low growl, that stunned the Reverend.

"From God, my son..."

The man turned toward him, and the Reverend caught a glimpse of the mans eyes, and saw something there, something...frightening...

"Oh ..Him..." and with that, the man turned away and started walking back down the aisle to the big wooden doors.

"You can't run away from God, my son. He is always there, and he will always be there, if you need him.."

The man stopped and turned, gazing back at the Reverend.

"Really?",the man said, his voice had a hint of dark sarcasm.

"Always," the Reverend replied.

The man gazed at him ,his eyes solemn.

"Walk these streets at night, then say that to me.."

The man turned towards the door again, and his trench coat went back a little. Just enough for the Reverend to see the grotesque white skull on the mans t-shirt. In that moment he understood who the man was, for that symbol had been in the papers so many times, always accompanied by a headline which contained murder, and the man named Frank Castle. The man they called "The Punisher."

Castle turned toward the door, and exited out those big oak doors. Of course the Reverend knew the story, it had been reprinted in the newspaper thousands of times, so that every new generation could learn the tale of Frank Castle. The Reverend remembered the photos from the scene, of that mans family lying sprawled on the ground, with sheets covering the corpses. A mother, a son, and a daughter...

The Reverend had sympathized with that man when he had first read the story, but only now, after to all these years could he fully realize what it had done to him. Castle was now known for at least a thousand murders of known criminals, sometimes not known until after the police searched the "victims" premises. How the hate and violence of the world had had impacted that man with the force of a freight train, that was carrying a nuclear payload. Of course, the Reverend knew all about hate, growing up Black during the 50's-60's,yes,he KNEW all about hate.

When he grew up later, and saw all the changes that were being made, the rights he was given, he hoped he would never had to see that hate again.Yet,here he was, staring at the big oak doors that Castle had walked out of, and his hopes were crushed, he had seen that hate again, but it was hate of a different nature.Hate,not for a race or a religion, or some other nonsense like that. But a hate for a TYPE of people, who chose greed and violence as their perogative,and ignorance as their guide. Was there a good type of hate then?

He decided not to let his thoughts answer that question. He turned from the door and started back towards his office, behind the altar. Yet little did he know, that that hate that he feared the most was waiting just outside those big oak doors. That hate was taken in the form of Henry Lawson.

Henry Lawson was edgy...but excited. He had watched the congaret's leave the church, and had waited a little longer to make sure any stragglers would leave. Sure enough, a big man in a trench coat left a few minutes after. Henry checked the two men behind him. Danny Elfsman and Ron Eisenberg,two radicals straight from the top had been sent with him on this. They had done a few missions, but none as important as this. This night, they would chose to reveal their existence to the world. He smiled at that thought, finally their plans were in motion.

He had dreamed of this since he was a kid, listening to his father telling him stories of his adventures with the "kluckers". Later, he was kicked out of high school, for nearly beating to death a Jew. He then would join the army, but was thrown out from there because he was implicated in the murder of a Black Captain, but nobody could prove it. That's when he joined up with this group. All hardcore fanatics, all hungry for the purifying of thw white race. There leader was smart, his plans were full-proof, and when Lawson had heard them, he couldn't believe his eyes.

"A lot of people were going to die before the end of this",he had said.

When he had read over the plans and been briefed.

"That's the point isn't it boy?" the Leader had said" Just make sure its the people we want to die."

His war started tonight, over the next month the real battles would be fought. It would end with the domination of the white race. Once they had won, the government would surely understand that what they did was right, and would give them amnesty, and allow them to cleanse the rest of the country. They just needed to be cleansed of the Jew-bastards that run the fucking country...Henry realized he had been sitting to long and Dan and Ron were fidgeting around behind him."Okay..lets go", he said. With that, the three men got up and walked across the street to those big oak doors.

Frank noticed them immediately. 3 guys just sitting in an alley...watching him.Frank's eyes were turned away from them,but his hand slid down his side to the waiting .45 in its holster. He had come light that night, he only had his .45 and 3 clips on him. An M-16 waited in a car down the street, but Frank didn't think there was time to get it. If these mooks were gonna move they were gonna move now. As he walked, he gave a quick glance behind him. The mooks were moving, but not after him, but to the church across the street. They weren't looking at him, so he turned and crouched down behind a parked car. He watched the men as they moved up the steps. His eyes narrowed as he watched one of the men draw something from the inside of his coat. What could 3 guys want in a church this time of night? Some people would be surprised to hear that a group of armed men knocked off a church...He wouldn't. he heard his own words in his head, "Walk these streets at night...". Now the Reverend wouldn't have to walk these streets, they were coming to him.