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[row][cell][code]There are certain things in policing, that you hope that you'll never experience in your career. This was before the age of capes and heroes, before there was literal aliens and monsters there were just the monsters of our own making.

Nobody lived in New York City in the 90s without hearing about Frank Castle. The man the newspapers and the media called The Punisher. Everyone was aware of him, his one man mission to seemingly rid the city of anything resembling organised crime. As a cop fresh on the beat I knew that my time was going to come. A 10-35. A suspected Punisher crime scene. Sirens blaring our RMP pulled up outside the factory, it was already surrounded. Several Ambulances, or what we called buses, hung back the paramedics ready to go. Though nobody had any belief that the paramedics would be necessary. 

Boots on the ground had already reported no survivors and several million dollars worth of hard narcotics. Likely a drug smuggling or refining operation. "Paxton, with me."

I nodded as I followed Fowler under the police tape, I didn't even notice the exchange of money between him and the officer lifting the tape. We walked in together, the warmth of the late-spring sun instantly vanished as we crossed the threshold of the building, and my stomach jumped up and turned itself inside out at the scene before me. I could feel the bile in my throat rise defiantely, ignoring all calls for it to stop.
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"You okay kid?"

The words barely noticed as I ran back out the building, and promptly painted by shoes with this mornings breakfast burrito. I felt a pressure on my back, as Fowler clapped it twice. The whiteness in my face was quickly replaced by red as my cheeks became flushed. The heat from my roiling stomach moved up to my cheeks. There was no point in attempting to hide my embarassment. I had just shown how green I was, and everybody in the area while appearing to look busy had no doubt noticed.

"You just cost me five dollars kid. Thought you were made of sterner stuff."

I smiled weekly back at him, a look of disgust crossing his face.

"Sorry boss, I just wanted to check how my breakfast was doing."

He looked down at the pile of sick, and back up at me.

"A lot worse now, go get yourself cleaned up, then get this cleaned up. If a detective sees this they're going to chew my ass for you contaminating their crime scene."

The first time I dealt with the Punisher, and I spilled my guts. Not the story you were expecting when you bought my biography I'm sure, but I feel like its important to show you where it starts. This way when it ends, it will make a lot more sense. [/code]