DISCLAIMER: Due to multiple negative spam reviews, I no longer accept anonymous reviews. If you don't like my story, fine. That would actually benefit me as a writer if you don't. I just want you to a) keep it civil with no profanity b) use correct grammar if you are going to correct mine and c) make it constructive. In other words, don't be a troll. Any review that isn't compliant with the above criteria will be banished to the black hole of the internet. Also, the other Marvel character has been completely retooled for the Marvel Knights universe this story is in. EDIT: I wasn't happy with the formatting, so I corrected it.
The priest shuddered. The voice was heavy, full of dread and doom. The voice of his judge, jury and executioner. Or maybe it was his conscious brought to life, the part of him who hated what he did and wanted nothing more to stop. "Who...who are you?"
The barrel of the gun poked him even harder in the back of the neck. "I think you can guess. " Frank said, darkly. Tempted though he was just to shoot the old bugger in the back of the head, execution style, he had something better and more painful in mind. A bullet was just too easy of a way for him to leave this world. He didn't have enough faith to believe there was a hell, the passing of life was a black nothingness that enveloped people like the endless dark of space. At least, that was what Frank hoped. The absence of life meant the absence of pain.
The Punisher put his booted foot on the priest's ass and gave him a good kick, sending a flurry of black robes to the floor. The Father landed with a thunk but managed to glance up to see a stark white skull. Then the immense shape of the man appeared in sharp relief against the wall. "It's ..you."
"Who did you think I was, Jesus? Sorry to break it to you, but Jesus died. " Frank muttered. His finger touched the trigger, a hair's breadth from pulling it. Then he holstered his 1911, the weight of the gun reassuring in a crazy world. He saw the look of relief and puzzlement flash in the priest's eyes. "I wouldn't be relieved if I were you. I don't care if you're a man of God, I know what you did to that boy and you're going to pay him back in blood. And for all the others that you sinned against. I know there were others because men like you can't help but be predators. We're going to have a little talk."
Father DiMaggio ran a hand across his brow, sweat gleamed briefly like stars. "Then what is your intention here tonight, my son? Have you come for absolution for your own sins?" Father DiMaggio thought he could appeal to whatever remained of a good Catholic inside Frank.
"Don't call me that. Your son.'" Frank spat out those last two words. . "I know about Marc. You know about what I do. That's why I'm here." He grimaced in revulsion; the priest shivered like a worm in those robes that were supposed to represent holy authority and love. This man tainted innocence.
"I did it for..."
"Don't give me that shit, Father." The Punisher grabbed him roughly and threw him over to the plain, cheap phone that looked like it came from a dollar store. It rested on a nightstand that had seen better days, oh, roughly about a hundred years ago. Worn and tired, it reminded Frank much of the priest who had now turned visibly grey, like cremated ashes. He changed his mind about keeping the priest alive. The man was dangerous and cunning; the Punisher could see the vileness in the Father's eyes. He withdrew the 1911 and took aim at the crumpled priest.
/I am in serious trouble I am in serious trouble I am in serious trouble I am in serious trouble/ was the solitary hymn in the corrupted priest's mind. It rang through his veins, making his adrenaline surge. His mind whispered to say anything that might prolong his life until the Gnuccis came for their weekly 'confessional'. While the Punisher and those greasy knuckleheads killed each other, the priest would be able to make good an escape. Then put in for a transfer to the Vatican.
"If you kill me now, I can't tell you about the young woman deep in the Church's cellar." The priest felt the Punisher's eyes go predator bright.
"Where is she?"
Rogue dreams:
She sat at the end of the dock, kicking her feet into the cool water. Her fingers tickled the top of the pond and she watched the sun reflect off of it, refracting into many shards of light. The water felt good, felt refreshing, against the humid heat of the day. The young girl watched as two birds flew by, as they engaged in a courtship flight and singing their song of love. In her youthful innocence, she reveled in the beauty and wonder of what life had to offer.
She often came here to escape the yelling and fighting between her mother and stepfather, her eight-year old mind unable to understand why they fought so. Their fights usually ended up with her stepfather dragging her into the debacle, either emotionally or physically. Her mind drifted back a few hours to go over what happened in an effort to make sense of what happened.
The girl remembered what he said earlier that day, right before she came here, his brutish looks becoming even more sullen. ~Your daughter is good fer nothin'–can' even wash the dishes right. Good fer NOTHIN!~
Her mama had replied, feisty as a badger, her own voice raising several octaves. ~She's only eight, for christsake. Lorelai is jus' a child! How much do you `xpect her to do? At least she tries!~
He grunted. ~Not hard enough, Charlene. That girl of yours needs discipline.~ He finished off his bottle of beer. His fourth, by Lorelai's count. She feared him most after he had a six-pack of beer; he was what her mama called a mean drunk. She trembled as she hid in her favorite hiding place, behind the couch. ~Woman, get me another beer. Now!~
~Curtis Leroy Williams, Ah think you've had quite enough. `Sides, you're almost out. And we have jus' enough money to last `til next Friday; Ah won' be wastin' it on your booze. Ah've got a daughter to feed. ~ Lorelai watched as her petite mama stood up to the hulking brute and saw him hit her with a force that knocked her mother to thefloor. Blood poured from the woman's nose, staining the gray carpet with crimson blooms.
She tore out from her hiding space. ~Mama, are ya okay?~ Lorelai knelt by her mother's still form, tears running down her face. Lorelai hovered over her mother and hoped that she was all right. Prayed that her mother still lived.
~Lorelai, please leave the house while Curtis and Ah have... a conversation. Please, jus' do it an' don' ask questions.~ Charlene's delicate face started to blossom with vivid hues of purple and blue. She hated that her young daughter saw any of this altercation; God knew how emotionally scarred Lorelai must be already. Charlene believed in her heart that she let her daughter down because she was unable to protect her in so many ways. She regretted subjecting Lorelai to Curtis's brutality and drunkenness. Regretted marrying him. ~Leave, Lorelai! No matter what happens, Lorelai, remember that Ah love ya.~
~Love ya, too.~ Lorelai bolted out of the house and toward her safe abode, by the creek.
When the sun started to set, Lorelai decided it might be safe enough to venture near the house. She snuck closer to the door, timidly peeking over the windowsill. Her mother was crying while her step- father continued to yell at her.
Their discordant arguments always wounded her deeply, down to her soul. She wanted to confide to her mother what he liked to do to her in private–she knew that it wasn't right no matter what HE said. But Lorelai was afraid he'd hurt both her and her mother so she kept her mouth shut. Perhaps wisely.
She was about to come in when Charlene pulled out the old sawed off shotgun from the closet. Charlene discerned, beforehand, that he had his shotgun loaded at all times. ~Curtis, Ah'm not gonna let you hurt mah daughter or me anymore. Ah have seen what you done to mah baby. And Ah can' take no more!~ Charlene pulled the trigger and the impact of the discharge took Curtis directly in the chest.
Lorelai would remember the shock on his florid face as he registered the fact that he was going to die. She watched as his body fought to reject the inevitable truth. When his death throes came upon him, she started to cry. Out of relief or sadness, she couldn't tell.
The young girl went in, despite the admonition given. Her mother was crumpled on the floor, holding onto the shotgun as if it were the last lifesaver on Earth. ~Lorelai, come here. Don' know when the police will get here but Ah wanted you to have this.~ She took off a gold locket and placed it around Lorelai's neck. ~It has the only picture of your true father in it. God, Ah loved that charmin' rogue.~
Lorelai opened it and glanced at a face not so different than hers. Just a more masculine one. She closed it and looked at her mother's beloved, battered face. ~Mama, does it hurt to love?~
~Yeah, it does. Promise me you'll nevah let anyone get close enough to hurt ya. Learn from mah mistakes. Don' trust men, `specially charmin' ones. Ah think if your father had lived long `nough and not died in that brawl... It might have worked. But don' count on it.~ Charlene hugged her hard.
~Ah promise, Mama. ~ They heard sirens coming up the drive and Charlene knew the cops were going to try to take her. She would never give herself up.
~Go outside and don' come back inside. Ah mean it.~ Charlene knew it would be the last time she'd ever see her daughter. ~Ah love ya.~
Lorelai frowned; something was wrong with her mother. ~Love ya.~
She stepped out of the house, immediately placed into the backseat of a cop's car. A female officer, tall and ice-blonde, gave her a teddy bear, to comfort her. ~We'll try to make sure your mother's all right.~ Her partner, a man, attempted to calm Charlene.
Just then, her mother raised the shotgun and fired toward the officers. ~Ah can' live Curtis' blood on mah hands but Ah won' have mah daughter visit me in prison.~ The shell entered the female cop's leg. She screamed, ignoring her injury, and drew her own gun, firing at Charlene. The male police officer followed suit, placing his body before the car, protecting Lorelai.
~MAMA!~ Lorelai pounded on the window of the car. The first bullet entered Charlene's head , blood and gray matter exploding out the back of her skull. ~NOOOOO!~ At that point, Lorelai lost conscious–the whole day too much for her to take.
In her bed, Rogue started screaming, the pain of all those long-forgotten memories rising to the surface. Her screams were the sound of soul-tearing agony.