Enrico gathered his men. "Giovanni, take four men and make for the basement. Kill the man first, then the girl. Make it nice and clean for her, give her the mercy of a good death, since she didn't have a good life." He paused, then withdrew a cigar from his pocket. "We'll be going after the priest. He's a liability now. I'll personally take care of him." Enrico lit the cigar and took in the smoke while he thought about the girl and the sad life she led. His mind also wandered to Raven, the woman in blue. So mysterious. So dangerous.
Giovanni nodded. As a good Catholic, he had unease over the killing of the Father, but after Enrico told him about his predilections, Giovanni saw the wisdom of it. The man deserved it, if even half of what was say ended up true. He wondered how someone like that ended up in a position of power and decided that Peter DiMaggio simply was an opportunistic asshole who preyed on the most vulnerable and that he became a priest just for that very reason.
For access to victims. Surely God would forgive them the death of an errant priest, who was more concerned with satisfying unholy desires.
"Giovanni, call me on the cell phone if the situation doesn't feel right. Remember to give the girl an easy death." Then Enrico rounded up the others to go after the priest. He wanted this distasteful business put to rest.
Giovanni and his men entered the hallway that led to the cellar where the girl was being kept. Religious imagery hung on the walls, adding to the somber mood they were all in. Giovanni noted to himself that Enrico had some sympathy for the girl. He also wondered if it was justified. He'd seen her kill through touch and it looked quite excruciating.
As to the Punisher, he would be lying if he didn't say he anticipated and looked forward to putting an end to the vigilante. Too many of their people had died at his hand. Giovanni was deeply offended because Frank had Italian blood, so he considered him a traitor. /He'd have made a helluva member of the Family./
They went down a staircase and Giovanni knew they were close. The men were talking in excited murmurs, each of them excited to get their hands on the Punisher. They knew the Gnuccis would be feared and respected once it went out they were the ones responsible for the death of the Punisher.
Giovanni had a spare key for this room. He fumbled for it in his pocket, like a drunk searching for his beer. The tarnished bronze key slid into place and he opened the door carefully. The door flowed to him and he had a rare glimpse of the Punisher on the floor. The huge man reclined against the wall, his skin remained a whiter shade of pale. He began to say, "Where's the girl…"
The knife sliced through Giovanni's throat and sprayed over Rogue with a crimson blanket. The arterial droplets stood in alarming contrast to her unnaturally white complexion. She shoved the dying man into his companions with a snarl. "I'm going to kill you all, you fuckers. You will pay for what you did to me and to the others." She then shot him in the face and felt the reverberating kick of the gun echo in her body. Rogue took quick aim and after a quick flash of fire, another bullet flew through the air to lodge in the nearest eye. The man went down and she gave him another round. Blood pooled under him.
/How many bullets does this gun have? Eight? So that means Ah have six left in the clip./ Rogue thought as she watched the three remaining men gape in horror, frozen in the grip of not knowing what to do next. One of them lunged at her, a man with dirty brown hair and even dirtier eyes. She managed to evade him, but her bare foot slipped on the blood and she landed on the floor with a loud moan. The gun skittered from her hand and he was on her in an instant, hands wrapped around her throat.
The knife remained in her other hand and she managed to stab him in the side, a kidney shot. Blood streamed over her, an unwanted torrent. A glance at the two other assholes told her that they were going to shoot. In fact, she saw them take out their hand guns and aim at her. Rogue just barely managed to get the man off of her to act as a shield. He screamed and shuddered as his body took the bullets of his cohorts. Rogue knew she was fortunate that none of the ammo tore through him and into her.
Rogue's green eyes widened as she watched the life fade from her human shield. A tremor and what animated him was gone, a wisp disappearing into the ether. His death was immediate and shockingly intimate.
A couple of loud shots brought Rogue back from her stupor, a couple of wet thumps hit the wall, to slide on the floor. Glassy expressions that would greet the 'cleaning crew' in an hour or so. Rogue, gladdened at their deaths, then felt something large and black drape itself around her. Big hands lifted her to her feet. She looked up to see Frank, tall and resolute. She'd never been so glad to see someone in her life.
"You did good. You survived." He said and appeared to contemplate something, then a phone rang. One of the dead men's' cell phones, in fact. Frank picked it up, read the caller id which said "E. GNUCCI", and answered it.
His voice, gravelly and serious, sent shivers through Rogue. She knew he meant what he was going to say, somehow knew what he was going to say. "I killed your men and I am going to kill you." And at this point, she wasn't inclined to chime in and say that she helped. Killing those ass munches wasn't something to be proud of. It was a necessary thing, but not to be thought of as an accomplishment. She did what she had to so that they both could survive.
She leaned over to pick up her borrowed gun and also to yank the Ka-Bar out of the side of her deceased assailant. For a second, she thought it was stuck on a rib, but she managed to pull it out. She had a horrible and absurd image of now being the King of England, but thrust that ludicrous musing aside. When she looked for him, the large man was gone.
"Goddamn it, Castle." She muttered, then went to find him.
Enrico and his four men had encountered the priest in the rectory. Enrico instructed one of them to punch the priest in the face, sending him reeling over a bench in a splash of white robes. He smirked at the older man, collapsed on the hard wood.
"But …I got you the Punisher. I deserve a reward." The Father stuttered.
Enrico kicked him in the head, teeth scattered like white rats. "And I'm going to give it to you. Just not the reward you think you're going to get. Raphael, tie him up. I need to call Giovanni and see how he's doing. He should be done by now."
When he heard the Punisher's voice, he turned pale. With a click, he turned off the phone. "Giovanni failed. We know what that means. Shoot to kill."
Frank took the stairs at a rapid clip, skipping two or three at a time. He knew he had to hurry if he wanted to catch the real boss and his henchmen. He figured Rogue would be safer downstairs and that she had done enough. She didn't need to see just how he'd kill Enrico and then the priest, if he could manage to get his hands on him.
/I know what I'll do with the good Father. / He thought grimly. /If I had more time with Enrico, I'd make an example out of him, but this is his lucky day. I'll make it quick. /
He caught two of Enrico's hapless henchmen in the hall, sent to look for him. Frank wanted to make this as quiet as possible. Rogue had his knife, but he noticed a rather solid looking cross on the wall. He took it down, crept up behind them and pummeled their skulls into tiny pieces, exposing pulsing brains. Experience told him that they weren't long for this world.
Satisfied with his work, he silently padded toward the rectory, wondering if Enrico were there. /Large area, hard to sneak up on him. But then, little cover, so it's a crap shoot./
Every step brought his anger to the fore, every step brought him closer to being full strength. He checked his gun, then dug in his pocket for his extra magazine. He removed the empty one, then slid the full magazine home with a solid click.
A lone man had his back to Frank. Fancy suit, Italian silk and Italian cut. Frank relished the mistakes of his enemies. Made his job easier. It took Frank all of five seconds to snap that fancy Italian neck. Frank carefully lowered him to the ground
He glanced in the rectory. Frank counted two men on their feet and noted with satisfaction that they'd already tied up the priest. /How considerate of them. It's a late Christmas present./ He became as still as a statue and tried to ascertain if there were more men roaming the halls. The thundering silence told him that those two were all that remains. Frank knew that he had to get this shit done. He could almost sense that 'reinforcements' would be here shortly. If that happened, both he and Rogue were screwed.
Like a tiger, he made his move. With a speed that belied his age and size, he leapt over the pews. One of his feet landed squarely on the younger man's back, sending him face first to meet his destiny. Which happened to be with Frank destroying his spine, then obliterating his neck when Frank used it to cushion his knee when he landed.
Enrico gasped when he saw the Punisher seem to come out of nowhere, all speed and ferocity. The expression on the man's face could not be put forth in words. The white skull glared at Enrico from the Punisher's chest, accusing him of terrible things. Terrifying sprang to mind, but it was a mere fraction of what Enrico felt. This man was a force of nature, truly something to be reckoned with and he pulled out his own gun, a Beretta, and shot at Frank.
A bullet grazed Frank's arm, a scarlet path on scarred skin, and he managed to avoid being hit by his other shots. Enrico fired until the gun clicked, empty of ammo. Frank grabbed him by his tie and hauled him up to the altar, where the baptismal font was kept. Enrico clawed and hit at Frank on their way up. Frank didn't even notice those frantic attempts.
He noted that there was indeed water in the font and with a shove, pushed and held Enrico's head underwater for about five or so minutes. He held him there until he could be assured no life inhabited the crime boss's body. Frank checked for a pulse and there was none. He let Enrico go, body draped over the fountain like a macabre drape.
/Now about the priest…/ He turned his attention to the priest, who turned white. Frank saw that a wet stain had spread across his robe. Frank smiled.