Joy Meachum sleeps soundly in her bed. "Wake up, Joy," a voice whispers, "Time for school." Joy's eyes snap open and she instantly spring sout of her bed and to the nightstand. She pulls a small gun from the top drawer and turns on the lamp. Typhoid stands against the wall on the opposite side of the room, still racked with pain from her fight with Bullseye.

"Walker," Joy mutters.

"I really wish people would stop calling me that. You have two more tries, Sweety."

"The third alter," she says in a hushed tone.

"You caught on quicker than most. Bravo," she notes the gun in her hand, "Is that thing loaded?"

"Hell yeah, it is."

"Good. You just keep that gun pointed at me and keep your finger near the trigger. I wouldn't wanna fall asleep."

"What the hell do you want with me?"

"It seems you and Walker had a little partnership a while back. She wrote about you in her notes. Apparently, she told you she might revisit you someday in case she needed you. I decided to cash in on that promise. I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

"What do you want? Money? I'll pay anything just so you'll stay out of my life."

"Nah, I got enough money from the mob. What I need are some materials," she tosses a piece of paper on the need.

Joy carefully picks up the piece of paper and glances at it, never lowering her weapon, "These are all dangerous substances. What makes you think I have this shit laying around?"

"You don't but your old business partners do."

"I don't work for Rand Enterprises anymore."

"I'm sure you can still make business arrangements. Especially since some of the people you know have a certain... history with your family."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, come off it. I read about the Meachum family. You, your brother, and your dearly departed father haven't exactly been on the up-and-up. You know who has this shit and you know they'll give it to you at the right price."

"Fine. If I get what you need,... we're done. You can send the message to Walker and Mary and whoever else you have swimming around in your head."

"I'll get the word out," she leaves the bedroom, "I'll call you when I need to collect."

Joy lowers her gun and buries her head in frustration.

Misty Knight and DA Blake Tower examine a solitary cell. Inside, Benjamin Poindexter sits in an empty room with only a pair of shorts.

"This is not a good look, Detective," he tells Misty, "This man is meant to be in a holding cell until the feds get here, not in solitary confinement, wearing only a pair of shorts."

"Believe me, Tower, you don't want this man getting his hands on anything that can be used as a weapon."

"I know who this is. The man terrorized Hell's Kitchen and slaughtered innocent people at a church a while back. Don't lecture me about how dangerous he is!"

"Fair enough. On another note, are they going to send him back to the Raft?"

"They might. Why?"

"Word of advice: do whatever it takes to make sure that doesn't happen."

"Mind telling me why not?"

"They're the reason why this guy is even more dangerous than he was before. The place needs to be shut down. Hopefully, once this is all over, we can make that happen."

"Right now, all I want is for this to be over. You've been appointed to head this taskforce but I'm still a little uneasy. With you, things always get worse before they get better."

"Come on, Tower. Sherry Yang is being charged as we speak. Rosalie Carbone is next. I'd say things were getting better already."

Outside of Sherry Yang's house her lawyer Ben Donovan escorts her down her front steps as a horde of reporters snap photos and shout questions. "My client will not be taking any questions at this time," he loudly announces as he waves them off, then they both climb into the back of a car and drive off.

"Everything my husband set up," she mutters, "It's all gone. Most of my men are gone, Dex is being taken back to prison, and Rosalie Carbone wins."

"There's nothing to link you with Benjamin Poindexter. You are a grieving widow and a victim of circumstance."

"Forget it, Donovan," she groans, "At this point, I don't care if I get off or not."

"Just so we're clear, if you choose to plead guilty, I can no longer represent you and my fees are non-refundable."

"Yeah, I get it."

There's a loud BANG! and the car swerves violently. It careens across the street and hits a parked car. "What was that?," Donovan asks nervously. "Someone shot a tire," Sherry tells him in a hushed tone. The driver pulls a glock from his jacket and slides a clip in it, "Stay here, ma'am." He exits the driver side and the two see him him through the windshield: he rushes to the front of the car and fires a few rounds at an unseen assailant. A second later, two exit wounds erupt form his back and he flops onto the hood. At that point, they clearly see the Punisher approaching the car with a gun on his hand.

"No!," Donovan shouts and quickly exits the car. "Where are you going?," Sherry shouts after him but he does not listen. He sprints down the street and Frank Castle calmly raises his gun and pops off a single round. The bullet rips through the back of Donovan's leg and he falls to the pavement in agony. Inside the car, Sherry removes the sawed-off shotgun attached to the roof of the car and steps outside. "Come on, you son of a bitch!," she shouts before cocking the shotgun and raising it. Castle is a better shit and quickly fires a round. A second later, she slumps over and lies motionless in the street. Castle then makes his way to Donovan who remains on the ground.

"N-n-no! p-please," he begs.

"You're Ben Donovan, right? Big Ben? You're the creep these assholes go to so they don't see the inside of a prison cell."

"I... am a defense attorney, y-yes. Whatever you think my client has been involved with... I am an attorney at law. It is my duty to uphold the constitution of this fine country. E-even someone like you must have a code... You have to respect that much!"

"Hate to admit it, but you're right."

"Ah, I see. P-perhaps we can -"

The Punisher shoots his other knee and leaves him screaming on the ground.