"We gotta get out of here!" yelled a frightened Spade. "This fire's too strong!
Diabla looked around for a way out.
"We gotta go upstairs! There's a fire escape up there!"
"There's no time! Do you know of another way out?" asked Castle.
Spade moved away some boxes and found a hatch.
"There's a hatch! Diabla, where does this lead to?"
"It leads to a field not too far from here!" Diabla replied.
"Well, let's get out of here before we end up cooked!" suggested Castle.
The three made it through the hatch just as the fire consumed the entire warehouse and exploded. The trio ran toward the exit and successfully made it to their destination.
"Well," said Castle with a sigh of relief. "That's something not even I want to go through ever again."
Spade and Diabla laughed. That's when the sound of a gunshot cut the air, followed by the scream of a woman. He looked down and saw Diabla clutching her stomach in pain. He saw the blood seeping between her fingers. Castle drew his .357 and scanned for anyone who might be in range.
"Diabla, no!" screamed Spade, sobbing. "This can't be!"
"Dami… promise me you'll get those bastards" were Diabla's last words. Spade let a scream of rage and sadness. Castle shook him.
"Spade, we gotta get outta here!" he yelled.
"Let's move!" replied Spade.
Castle and Spade were on the move as the sound of police sirens sliced the air. They reached the car that Spade had recently "acquired."
In the car, Spade was thinking the death of his high school sweetheart. Meanwhile, Castle was actually surprised at the actions of the Bureau.
"I can't believe it," said Castle. "All those years of being a federal agent and this is what happens."
Spade stopped the car and put his revolver in Castle's face.
"Okay? Okay? Do I look like I'm fuckin' okay?!" screamed a raging Spade.
"That's not what I meant," said Castle. "I meant, are you in your right mind to take some FBI fuckers out?"
"Oh, I didn't know," replied Spade. "I'm good. But first, let's see what's new in the underworld. That couldn't have been an FBI sniper."
"You're right," agreed Castle. "I'm sure the scum in this city would know things we need to know."
A/N: This story also takes place in the Daredevil movie world.
The Bronx, New York- 10:30 PM
An obese man sits behind a desk in a large building facing the window. A skinny teenager runs in, out of breath.
"Mr. Fisk! Mr. Fisk!" he yells.
The man turns around.
"What is it, Wesley?" he asks.
"The FBI's attack on one of the safe houses of the Snypa's contacts was successful." he replies.
"Was Sari Diabla there?" Fisk asks.
"Yes, sir," replies Wesley.
Fisk stares at his assistant.
"Don't just sit there, Wes, come share a glass of wine with me," says Fisk. "Celebrate with me!"
"Yes, sir! You're not the Kingpin of Crime for nothing!"
Dark County, Texas- 2:16 A.M.
Spade and Castle were pressing gang members for information on anything they might know about Diabla's killer. Each time there was a dead end... let's put it in a math equation:
The Snypa and the Punisher reaching dead ends plus the phrase "dead suspects don't say shit" equals a bunch of dead bodies.
Finally, the two gunslingers found an answer as to what was going on from a frightened crackhead:
"I-I- I don't know much, but I know this!" stammered the drug fiend. "There's a guy that comes around! He wears a black suit and his face is always covered in a mask He supplies my friends and I with cocaine 'liberated' from FBI headquarters in Washington."
"Keep singing," growled Castle.
The cocaine user went on. "He has a French accent and there's always three guys around him, in armor from head to toe armed with sawed-off shotguns."
"Where does he hang out at?" Spade demanded.
"I can't tell you! They'll kill me!!" the crack fiend whimpered.
"Kill you? Kill you?!" said Spade with a menacing tone. "Motherfucker, have you forgotten about me?!"
With that, Castle pulled out a knife and jammed it into the man's right hand.
"Better tell us what we wanna know, crackhead," laughed a sadistic Spade. "If you think he's something with a knife, wait until I pull out mine."
"You're crazy sons of bitches!" said the crack fiend. "I ain't telling you shit!"
"Your loss." chuckled Spade, drawing his USAS-12 shotgun.
What that meant was, after Spade fired, the crackhead was on the ground, holding in pain where his left foot and his lower leg up to the knee used to be.
"Still don't wanna tell us shit?" said Spade in a mocking tone.
"Fuck...you," said the defiant crackhead, blood pouring out of his destroyed leg. "I can take whatever you dish out."
It was obvious that Spade and Castle had to test the crack fiend's endurance.
"Well, it looks like live suspects won't say shit, either," said Castle. "Might as well waste him."
"Wait a minute, Frank," said Spade. "I just realized who this guy is. He lived in my old neighborhood when I was 13."
Castle looked at Spade.
"What the hell are you gonna do?" demanded Castle.
Spade kicked the crackhead in the chest, sending him down, and mounted him.
"Tordo, why don't you make this easy on us and tell us..."
Spade set down his shotgun and pulled a Colt 1911, cocking it. He turned toward Tordo's feet and fired at his right foot.
"WHAT THE FUCK WE WANNA KNOW?!"
Tordo's eyes widened in fear as he screamed in pain.
"Okay, okay!" he screamed. "I'll tell you!"