"I'm on it."

Brooklyn

Punisher's safe house

Night time, still

Reese found the place. Castle had set up shop in a garage. Practical location. Isolated. Plenty of room for his vehicles. A black van and a black sedan. And weapons. And crates.

Reese and the Punisher were both standing on opposite sides of a table. Castle was wearing a black T-shirt. He'd taken off his body armor and had taped up his ribs. He went to a small fridge. He pulled out two water bottles and two sandwiches. Reese accepted the food and drink. A moment later, Castle brought a folder.

"What do I call you?" Castle asked.

"John Reese."

"Delta? CIA?"

"Both."

Castle then said nothing. He took a bite of sandwich. A sip of water.

"What's your deal, Reese? Why are doing this?"

Reese hesitated for a second. He didn't think Castle was trying to bond. He wanted to know who he was dealing with. Might as well be honest.

"I lost someone. Then, I lost myself. I was a homeless man, trying to drink myself to death. My friend with the computer skills, he found me. Gave me a job. A mission. A purpose. We find people in trouble and help them."

Castle kept quiet. He kept eating his sandwich. His eyes were on Reese, not missing a thing. He knew Castle could relate to parts of his story. His wife, daughter and son had been killed decades ago in Central Park. The Castle family had been at the wrong place at the wrong time: mob business. Castle survived. Finch had given Reese some details during the drive. Castle had positively identified the shooters and they still walked. He became the Punisher shortly after. He eliminated the Mafiosos that killed his family and hasn't stopped since.

"Why didn't you kill those guys back at the building?" Castle asked.

"I didn't need to. I told you that already."

"Makes more tactical sense if they're dead. They can't recover from that. Can't surprise you."

"I've killed plenty of people in my time in the service, in the Agency. I kill when I have no other option, now. I try to focus on saving lives these days."

Castle said nothing. Drank some water.

"Hm," Castle said.

"What? Are you skeptical?"

"I believe you," Castle said, "Your rep speaks for itself. I needed to know for sure."

"And you're sure? A lotta cops think I'm a hit man."

"They don't look beyond the surface. I looked into the Man In A Suit."

"Really?"

"I thought maybe there was truth to that hit man theory. None. A string of grateful civilians and kneecapped scum. Some that were on my list."

"Sorry. I didn't want to steal your targets. Maybe there's some kind of vigilante etiquette I should know about?"

"Don't worry about it. I have a long list. Also, the Man In A Suit reminded me of someone."

"You mean the Equalizer?"

"You know him?"

"I know of him. Robert McCall. Former Agency man. He was a legend when I was still in the business. I'd always run into an older spook that would tell me about the impossible stuff McCall pulled off during the Cold War. I heard about the 'business' he started after he retired. People would call him. He'd help them. Here, in New York. That made him even more legendary. They said he took down dirty cops, stalkers, gangsters, terrorists."

"All true. He also told me that stuff about not wanting to kill more than he had."

"You've met him."

"Worked with him. A long time ago. A good man."

Reese understood the look of recognition in Castle's eyes. It wasn't just the Man In A Suit. It was the Equalizer as well that The Punisher saw in Reese.

"Sometimes, mercy works, Frank. My friend showed me mercy. I'm alive thanks to that."

"Hm."

Castle slid the folder to Reese across the table. Back to business.

"You might change your mind about mercy for the enemy when you see that," Castle said.

Reese opened the file. Crime scene photos. Six dead. Blood everywhere. Another picture with a dead man on the sidewalk. Also very bloody. He probably jumped out of a window.

"A contact I have in the NYPD gave me that file," The Punisher said. "This was at a party. A bunch of college kids took something. They went berserk. Killed each other. One of them committed suicide."

"I heard of a new crew dealing designer drugs when I was looking for you earlier."

"Probably them. On the street, they call it Cortex. It's said to combine the effects of LSD, Ecstasy and Crystal Meth. It doesn't cause much physical damage. When used for too long, or when people wanna kick the habit, that's what happens. Hallucinations. Psychotic breakdowns."

Castle took another swig from his water bottle and went on:

"The pushers are smart. I was on the streets for weeks looking for these bastards. I found nothing. Then, at last, a lead. That building where we met. It was supposed to house one of the labs where they cook that stuff. It was an ambush. I was set up. The apartments were inhabited by those hired guns. I ran into a dozen of them. Those guys you neutralized outside weren't there when I entered the building."

"They were probably there as back up. They must've showed up after you. In case you made it and survived the first team. These guys are serious."

Reese pulled out his phone. He pulled up the files Finch had sent him during the drive to Castle's safe house. He slid the phone across to the Punisher.

"Your friend at work," Castle said.

"Yeah."

"Some of those guys were on Interpol's most wanted list. High end mercenaries. Assassins for hire. Former operators from all over the world. They belonged to a team that calls itself Black Daggers," Castle said.

"That group is used all over the globe. Wet work. Espionage. My friend is looking for a money trail. If we can follow that, we can find out who hired them," Reese said, looking at the pictures some more. Castle was right: John wasn't feeling very merciful towards whoever was making money off of this product.

"This Cortex, it's a party drug," Castle said, "It's not affordable. It's popular with rich people. That's why it won't show up in the news. Sons and daughters of CEOs and senators have overdosed on that crap. They tried to keep it quiet. My NYPD contact was told to keep his mouth shut about this. To avoid a scandal. All cops were told to destroy the drugs found on the scene. Even the files. He couldn't. He made a copy of what he could and reached out to me."

"It's probably expensive to produce, hence the price," Reese said, "It's not something that can be cooked up in a kitchen somewhere."

Reese's phone vibrated.

"Mr. Reese," he heard in his ear.

"Go ahead, Finch," Reese answered.

"I tracked down the money trail. I traced the most recent bank deposits made to some of members of the...Black Daggers you ran into at that building earlier. I went through several dummy corporations, so it cost me some...precious seconds. The trail stops at a Manhattan lawyer called Christopher Vines. 38. Criminal lawyer. Trust fund child. Both parents are dead. Only child. No wife. No children. Has memberships to a gym, a tennis club and a golf club. His credit card history reveals he spends a lot of money on high priced escorts. He has had several clients of ill repute in the past years. Many alleged crime figures among others. I sent you his address."

Reese looked at his phone and saw the information. There was his driving license picture. White man. Movie star good looks. Healthy. Rich. Some men just could have enough of everything. Reese slid his phone over to Castle.

"It seems you're getting along with Mr. Castle," Finch said.

"He hasn't shot me in the face yet, so it's promising," Reese said.

"Night's still young," Castle said.

"Was that a joke?" Finch asked, with some concern.

Reese looked at Castle's face.

"I can't tell," Reese said, "Thanks for the Intel, Finch. We're gonna have a talk with the counselor."

"I've accessed his laptop and his smart phone. He has several business clients in the morning, maybe you could pass for some potential-"

A large bag was set heavily on the table.

"We're going now," Castle said.

Reese looked at the bag and at Castle's face.

"News about the failure of their ambush is gonna spread, Reese," Castle said, "The more we wait, the more time we give them to be ready for us. Maybe even disappear."

"He's got a point, Finch," Reese said.

"He does indeed. Or maybe you enjoy working with someone who appreciates the direct approach as much as you do, Mr. Reese."

"Maybe there's some of that. But mostly, these men have to be stopped. This substance they're selling...They have to be stopped, Finch."

"I see. Well, while you and Mr. Castle have your chat with Mr. Vines, I'll look further into his history. Perhaps I can dig up further evidence of his involvement in this enterprise. Who needs sleep anyway?"

Reese looked at Castle. He was back in full Punisher mode. Fatigues. Body armor with painted death skull. Weapons. Ammunition.

"Let's go," Castle said.