To Protect and Punish
New York City, 1:17pm, September 9th, 2010
Batman decided to give myself and Kaldur a day off from duty due to our work with the peace summit. I initially refused but changed my mind when I saw Wally's face. Dude was upset that he didn't get one...so I decided to take it and rub it in. As of right now, Kaldur decided to go back to Atlantis to spend his day, I decided to head to New York to see the sights...and also because Zarathos insisted on going. "Blood is being split there...but it's not innocent." Zarathos says as we sit in traffic, I look up to the rearview and see him staring back at me. "So...what do we care? I thought you wanted the guilty to die, well...they are. What's the issue?" I ask as he narrows his eyes at me. "Maybe so...but something is different. I sense great anger and guilt, someone in this city is very hurt. I am curious as to who and why." He says as I sit back. "This is our day off, why not take a break from it all?" I ask as he sighs. "The guilty never stop preying on the innocent. There is no such thing as 'a break'. We find this person and see what's going on." He says as I just sigh in tiredness. "Fine...but you owe me." I say as I turn at the intersection. Batman had set up a safe house in every major city for the League. He had allowed me access, but only on the requirement that I don't wreck it like my own apartment...I need to fix that little problem.
Entering the safehouse, I deposit everything on crime, watchlists and news feed from every news outlet and police database in the city. Got to love Batman for his thinking ahead. The news is just filled with mountains of bodies. Italian mobs shot up. Russian gangs with signs of torture. Criminals killed execution style. "This is some personal level shit." I say as I see something in the background of one of the photos. A graffiti painting. A white skull. "Aww, someone appreciates my work." Zarathos says giddily as I shake my head. I look between all the photos, police body-cam, civilian recordings, etc. Every single crime scene has the skull painted somewhere in it. "A vigilante, one that gives no fucks." I say as I scan the skull into the League's database for any sort of connection. It pings back, really quickly, as I see hundreds, if not thousands of reports and news feed of a violent vigilante that hunts down criminals, from all over the country. From low thugs to big crime bosses, mobs, gangs, even a case of a corrupt US Senator being assassinated in his own home. The cause of death was a single .50 caliber round. The level of violence and hate to actually shoot someone with that double fister, blows my mind. All that the database has on the vigilantes name is an underworld street name...The Punisher. God, that doesn't sound terrifying, like at all.
I spend the better part of 2 hours to try and find anything about this Punisher but nothing. No face recognition, no name, no DOB, no anything apart from his underworld name and callsign. Its moments like these that make wish I had Robin here, he could have figured this out in a snap. "He seems very skilled." Zarathos says as I open my eyes. "How so?" I ask. "It's like you said, there is no information on him or her. They seem to not want to be found, they leave no trace except shell casings, bodies and the skull. They know how to cover up their tracks so nothing comes back to them. The level of training and/or skill is very impressive." Zarathos says as I think about for a minute. That is true, tracks are covered so well, I didn't even notice that they are covered. I reach my hand up to my comm. "Hey, Rob. You there?" I ask. "Yeah, I read you. Whatcha you need?" I look at the pattern of violence that has the call sign. "I need to trace anything on New York's housing and relocation centres, I need to narrow down a search of a vigilante with some serious training, like professional level training. Ex military, law enforcement, anything like that. Can you do that for me?" I ask him. "Yeah, sure. One second." He says as silence rings for a second. "Ok, I got one. Fredrick Chase. He is a member of the New York S.W.A.T team. He is the only that matches your requirements." He says as I get the information on the computer. A name but no picture. "Got an address?" I ask. "Yeah...52 West 95th Street." He replies. "Thanks Rob, I appreciate it." I thank him as I make my way out. "All good, I'm here if you need me." He says as the comm turns off. I hop onto my bike and make my way to the address.
The house is putting rundown but otherwise habitable. Perfect place for a vigilante to hunker down in. I enter the house and see that it needs some serious touch up, dust everywhere, construction supplies placed everywhere, it seems like this place is in the middle of renovation. I enter the living home and see an old couch, table and...not much else. The kitchen is the same, empty. It's like no one lives here. I reach with my senses as I feel the presence of a nearby soul. This one, filled with rage. I hear a ping as I turn and see a small cannister flying at me. I catch it as it explodes. Sheer bright light enters my eyes. The agony is unbearable. I hear a yell as I'm pushed into the wall as someone throws heavy hooks to my face. I push him away to get my bearings. My sight is just filled with white lights going off and a blurry image of man in a black trench coat. He punches me again as I block blindly and grab his arm. Using my strength, I pull him into the wall next to me. Reaching my arm back, I drive my fist into the wall, connecting with nothing but the old plaster. My sight is coming back to me as the blurry images come into focus.
I turn and see the man before me. He has a soldier cut hairstyle, black trench coat and a bullet proof vest with a white skull painted on it. We stare each other down as he charges me. I run at him and duck under his punch. Grabbing him around the waist and lifting him up, I charge through the kitchen wall and into the living room. Getting on top of him, I rain punches which he avoids, maneuvering himself into a triangle choke. I lift him off the ground and slam him back down, the force of the impact breaks the hold. He kicks me away as he gets to his feet. I swing my fist as he expertly dodges and deflects, he replies tenfold with technical strikes. I'm strong and faster than him but he is far more experienced. As he goes to punch me, I get closer to him and push him into the wall, Zarathos is itching to get out. I make my fist glow with Hellfire as I go to punch, he moves out of the wall as the plaster wall is shattered and burnt. He combat rolls away as he pulls a shotgun out from under the couch. He levels it at me and fires a slug. The impact hurts like a motherfucker as he shoots me again. I crash to the ground as I groan in pain. I see him exit out the window, whole pulling a trigger out of his pocket. Beeps are heard as I look around and see steady blinking lights...he rigged the house. He exits out of the window as I slowly make my way to the door. Soon enough, the boom is heard as I'm sent flying out the door and onto the pavement.
I look up from the ground at the burning house as I rest my head on the sidewalk. Wasn't expecting that. I hear sirens wailing as I get to my feet. I look up at the building across the street. On the roof, is the man. He is staring down at me before walking away. "Come on. We can get him." Zarathos says as I wave him off. "Not tonight. I'm hurt and I need to sleep." I say with a groan as I cradle my gut. The slugs might have burned on entry into my body but I still feel it. Zarathos is working over time in healing me.
Entering the safehouse I crash into the bed as I breath a sigh of relief. "Please tell me that you read his soul." I say to Zarathos. "Yes, I did. The man's name is Frank Castle. I didn't get enough information but all I got was his name and something about...Central Park? That mean anything to you?" Zarathos replies as I shake my head. I reach up to my comm, which surprises me that it still works. "Hey Rob? You read me?" I say tiredly to him. "Yeah I read you. What happened to you? Sounds like you got the shit kicked out of you." He says as I laugh sarcastically. "Ha ha. I need you to run a name through the database. Frank Castle." I say as I hear him type away. "Whoa." I hear him say in shock. "What? What is it?" I ask him. "I got a hit. Frank Castle. Former United States Marine Corpsman. Force Recon and Scout Sniper. Decorated with tours in Iraq, Afghanistan, Syria, you name it, he's been there." Robin says as I shake my head. "A soldier...what credentials does he have?" I ask as Robin laughs. "It's more about what credentials he doesn't have. Demolition, infantry, sniper, recon, infiltration, extraction, assassination. This man is a one man army. He has skills that you don't rarely see. Says here that he served in the Marine Corps since he was eighteen and after serving, he was chosen for a top secret black ops team. He's a lieutenant and...whoa. He was awarded the Navy Cross. Second most prestigious besides the Medal of Honour. Matt, this man is a war hero." He says as I sigh in frustration. That's a lot, he is trained...trained to kill with no hesitation. But why criminals, what's his motive. I think back to what Zarathos said. "Any connection between him and Central Park. Any significance?" I ask him as I hear him type. "Yeah. About 2 years ago, him and his family were having a day out on Central Park with the Russian, Italian and Irish gangs came to a shoot out with each other. Castle's family was killed in the crossfire. Medical reports says that Castle suffered a gazing shot to the side of the head, but the concussive wave had sent him unconscious." He says as I realise why now. A military man, decorated soldier. And his family is killed by thugs. If I was him, I'll be pissed off too. "Thanks Rob." I say as I turn off the comm. He killed the Russians and the Italians. Only the Irish remain.
I pull up the database on the computer and triangulate the Irish hubs. I see three locations but only one is not within the police database, either they don't know it or are paid to ignore it. Knowing what I know now about Castle, he would go for this one. Grabbing my keys, not caring if I'm in pain or not, I head to the Irish holdout. Driving through the streets, weaving between the cars, I reach the part of town where the hub is. I hear gunshots go off as I bolt inside, bodies line the hallway as someone jumps out at me. "You got to help me! He's crazy!" The man says as I headbutt him, knocking him out and leaving him here. I enter a large meeting area as I see Castle pointing a gun at one of Irishmen. "Castle!" I call out to him as he stares at me. "You again? How the fuck are you even alive?" He says in a quiet monotone as I raise my hands. "I'm not here to fight...just to talk." I say as he scoffs. "You hero types are all the same. Killing is only way...the only way, to put down these fucking animals." He growls as he levels the gun at the man. "I'm not a hero, Castle." I say as he stares at me. My eyes glow with fire as the Irish man's eyes widen in terror. "You're the Ghost Rider?" Castle asks in a questioning tone. "I've heard the stories, listened to the crazy ramblings of criminals...expected you to be older." He continues as I chuckle. "So everyone says." I say but he just glares at me. "Doesn't matter who you are. You're not going to stop me." He says. "I'm not going too." I say as he raises an eyebrow. "I get it. Believe me when I say that I do. I read what happened to your family, it's not my business but I understand your pain." I say as he scowls at me. "How can you know?" He says. "Cause my family was killed too." I say as I sigh. "My mother and sister were killed when a bomb went off in our apartment. Due to my special nature...I survived...they didn't. I found out who killed them...I made sure that he regretted it for the rest of his existence." I say to him. "I'm not here to stop you. I'm here to understand." I say, extending an olive branch to him. "My family are killed by these...pieces of shit. These men are a disease and a plight on humanity. Heroes can pretend that they are doing good but they do nothing. The scum will always be here and its up to men like me to make sure that they never see the light of day again." Castle says as he fires the gun, the Irishman's brain splatter against the concrete.
We just stand there, amongst all the glory and all the bodies. "I'm not going to take you in. Being the Ghost Rider, I see a lot of evil. The torture and horror that people inflict on the innocent. I understand how you feel. While your methods are something that I can't argue, considering my own, I hope that you can at least tone down the level of violence." I say as I gesture to all the blood splattered everywhere. He chuckles a bit as he sits down. "Do you miss them?" He asks me as I nod my head. "Everyday...my mother was someone that I loved and hated at the same time but I still miss her. My sister, Luna...she was my joy. Living in Gotham was never easy, learn how to survive quick, but Luna always made me smile, always made my day brighter any time I came home. She was just a baby when she died but I loved her more than life itself." I say as he nods. "My wife was the exact opposite of me. She was outgoing and happy, not someone that I saw ever marrying but I loved her. My kids were everything to me. My daughter loved singing songs. While terrible at it, I would join in. She would laugh at me but I loved every second of it. My son was a little devil, always causing trouble, giving me a few headaches but otherwise, he made my job as a father that much better." Castle says as I nod and take out a burner phone. "If you ever want to talk or need help with something...give me a buzz." I say as I pass him the phone. "You're not going to take me in?" Castle says as I shake my head. "No. It would be pointless. You would end up in prison where, judging by your skills, would just kill everyone there. Batman isn't going to like it but...I can't stop you. Even if I wanted to. This path of vengeance...it's hard to steer out of." I say as Castle walks past me. "This isn't vengeance. Revenge is an emotional response. This is punishment...thanks for the burner, if I need to...I'll give you a ring." He says as he walks out. Despite his gruff attitude and violent nature...I like him. Zarathos loves him, finds his killer instinct almost like a turn on. That feeling is not going to go away any time soon.
After leaving the hub and making my way back to the safehouse. I read up on the news of an attack against the Irish gang which resulted in all members deceased. The white skull of the Punisher was found inside, along with the riddled corpses of the gang members. I decided to leave New York tonight, I got what Zarathos wanted, and made a new friend, I think. Time to head back home.
P.O.V Change: Frank Castle/The Punisher.
After leaving the young man behind, I followed him to where he was staying, while I'm not sure to trust him, I'm keeping my distance away from now. He seemed like a good kid, ruthless in how he fights, can take a hit and shares my mindset, maybe. I get the feeling of trying to be a hero but he understands that violence and death is the only thing that criminals will understand. My family may rest in peace now that their killers are dead but my work is not yet done. New York is not the first that I've visited nor will it be the last time that I do, but it's not the only place either. Gotham is next on the list, that city stinks of crime and is infested with corruption. I will right what Batman refuses to do. The only place where the criminals of Gotham can get help is in a box, six feet under. I turn on the police dispatch as a bank heist and hostage situation is going on downtown. I get up and give one last look at the young man. "See you around, hothead." I say as I leave.
New York Bank: No P.O.V
The robbers of the bank hold shotguns and rifles as they force the teller to give them the code to the vault. This bank is filled with money, hold and precious jewels. After news of the gangs, mobs and syndicates being killed, every criminal is staging one last job before they hit the road and leave. One employee tripped over her own heels as a man forces her face down. He points his gun at the back of her head. Before he can pull the trigger however, the lights go dim, casting a shadowy feeling across the bank. "What the fuck is going on?" One of the robbers says as heavy boots are heard. A man walks out of the shadows, wearing a black trench coat, his familiar white skull adorned on his chest. Two twins assault rifles hang from his hands. "Whose first?" The man says as he pulls the guns up and unleashes a hail of bullets against the robbers, roaring in fury. This...is the Punisher.