11:42 AM; July 6th, 2018
Meadowview Apartments; New York CityThere's never any rest for the wicked; yesterday I took a vacation day to recuperate after my shoulder wound, and then it was back to working for the NYPD. The two days before had been so hectic, due to all the high intensity gunfights, that when I prepared to kick in the apartment door to handle a routine drug bust it felt tame in comparison.
"NYPD! PUT YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD AND GET ON THE GROUND!" I shouted, and instead of being met with a stream of bullets all I got in reply was the panicked screams of a group of meth cooks, all raising their hands over their heads and falling to their knees. I anticipated one of them, any of them, trying something...
But nothing came. They were smart enough to realize that attacking would just end in an untimely grave. My finger itched, begging for me to pull the trigger, but I held back. I didn't want to get saddled with writing a report about my use of a firearm or, even worse, spark a storm of heated political discussions on 'appropriate use of police force' or whatever the hell politicians fought over these days.
Once we had them all cuffed, everything after that was a breeze. Three other officers hauled them out to the squad cars, while myself and a few others were tasked with bagging evidence, mostly chemistry equipment and other paraphernalia like pipes and used needles and whatnot. A decade ago I would've flinched at all this; now I was just going through the motions with a stony, almost bored expression. Much as I hate to admit, the more fucked up shit you see, the more you stop giving a damn about it.
It's not long until we're back at the station, throwing the criminals into the lock-up and heading back to our cubicles or cars and waiting for the next call to action. Until then, all of us were free to unwind; and my idea of unwinding was eating lunch with Dave, who was prattling on about behind the scenes facts for some cheesy sci-fi show from the sixties he had been watching while I just nodded along in between sips of coffee.
Lately our conversations away from the department were of the vigilante nature, but it would be stupid to talk about that stuff in a building full of police officers whose job it is to hunt people like me down. Add to that, after last night's shootout at the Royal Palace, Captain Stacy was prepping his unit to hunt me down. If only they knew I was right under their noses. I almost chuckled at the thought; I was always one step ahead of them. They'd never catch me.
That thought gave me pause. Where the hell did that come from? I was starting to sound like some sort of comic book villain, laughing maniacally as the police scrambled to catch me. But I'm not the villain, right? I'm the good guy here. I'm making sure that the men the law don't touch get what's coming to them... That makes me a good person, doesn't it? Doesn't it?
But when did this become about punishing the wicked, instead of revenge? I got the guys who killed my family. I should be happy, content, over the Goddamn moon. Instead all I'm thinking about is going after more mobsters, and achieving that sense of sheer ecstasy that conquering one's enemies provided. It was dangerous, that feeling; get it too often and suddenly you crave it, burn for it. It engulfs you until all that's left is the bloodthirsty killer within.
I could stop, couldn't I? By the time this was over, I would be able to go back to a normal life, right? More importantly, by the time this was over, it would still be about punishing the evil, and not about getting my sick kicks, right?
"Frank? Earth to Frank? You alright?" I was pulled out of my terrifying moment of introspection by Dave's voice.
"Oh, uh, yeah, sorry. Just zoned out for a moment."He kept an eyebrow quirked for a moment, before finally shrugging.
"Uh, okay then. So anyway, like I was saying, instead of just actually going out to the desert to film those scenes on the desert planet, they just filled a fucking set with sand..."He kept talking about trivia I didn't particularly care to know, and I just nodded along and occasionally threw in a chuckle. The sixties really were a weird time.
ISSUE #3
COP, VIGILANTE, FUGITIVE
6:07 PM; July 6th, 2018
Romita Heights; New York CityAt the end of the day I got into my car and drove back home, being an apartment in the Bronx. The place was pretty high-end, full of young professionals and retirees who had money to burn. When it was Maria and I, we both worked jobs that paid enough to afford living there and still have money to spare. With her gone, I was lucky to be able to pay rent. I should probably look into moving somewhere smaller, cheaper. Besides, all that was left there were memories I wanted to forget.
Once I was back in my apartment, it was time for some rest and relaxation, the only way I knew how. The liquor cabinet was always well stocked. That was always my first priority after the rent was paid. I grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels, unscrewing the top and drinking, not even bothering with a glass. Settling down in my recliner, I grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. Just the same old shit on the news; crime rates at an all time high (when are they ever not?), business suits vehemently denying that their companies are linked to criminal organizations, and the Mets sucking. What the hell else is new?
I turn the TV off after a moment, taking another swig from the bottle. I grab one of Maria's vinyls, inherited from her grandfather, and place it on the record player,
letting it play as I head into my bedroom.
My bedroom.
It used to be our bedroom. The guest room used to be Frank Jr. and Lisa's room. I still haven't moved anything from its original place in there. Sometimes I'll go in and pretend they're just at school. Or maybe Maria took them down to New Orleans to visit her parents. It's easier to try and believe a lie instead of facing the truth.
Who the hell am I kidding? They're dead. They're six feet under. Just forget about them, Frank. It's time to move on with your life. Yes, absolutely. Without thinking about it, I head into the kids' room with a trash bag, grabbing all of their toys, coloring books, and clothes and throwing them into the bag. I take all of Maria's things and toss them in. I grab the family photo of ours, taken not long after the twins were born...
... I set the photo down.
I drop the bag and fall to my knees.
Much as try not to, I choke out a sob, pressing my hands to my face.
I can't move on. I still need them.
I don't remember much after that. Just lying on the floor and crying until I fell asleep.
11:29 PM; July 6th, 2018
Frank's Apartment; New York City
I wake up to the sound of my phone ringing and the intense throbbing of my head.
Pulling myself up from the floor, I pull out my phone and answer it,
"Ugh... Castle here.""Frank, you need to get the hell out of your apartment right now."This manages to wake me up a bit, and I pull myself to my feet.
"Dave? What are you talking about?""The cops are on their way. They found out who you are."Now that
definitely wakes me up all the way.
"What? How?""The composite sketch. The fact that the Punisher goes after Jimmy Rossi and Nicky Francesco in the span of just two days. They put it together. They know it's you."How could I have been so stupid? Why didn't I at least wear a Goddamn mask or something?
"Fuck! They're on their way right now?""Frank, they were on their way ten minutes ago. I've been trying to call you but you wouldn't pick up."The sound of loud knocking makes me turn towards the front door.
"Frank Castle! We know you're in there! Come out with your hands up!""They're already here, Dave.""... Shit.""... Don't worry. I've got a plan." Without elaborating, I hang up the phone. Out there must be at least a dozen cops, all hellbent on bringing me in. The thing is, they don't know this apartment. I do. Small as it is, I can already think of a few places where I'd be able to hide and take them out.
Frantically, I close all the blinds and shut the lights off. I head into the hall closet, pulling my Glock out of the holster on my hip; lucky I forgot to change out of my uniform when I got home. There's no way in hell I'm going to kill any of them, I'll just shoot to wound and disarm.
I hear the record player in the living room still playing.One of them kicks the door. It takes another few hits before it goes down. I hold my breath...
They fan out. I hear a few heading to the bedroom, passing the closet on their way.
I open the door and burst out, tackling one to the ground and punching him in the nose, breaking it and knocking him out. I aim at the legs of the nearest officer, firing and hitting him in the right thigh. He goes down. Two more are up ahead, recovering from the shock at the sudden attack and getting ready to fire. Quickly, I fire off two shots, managing to nail one in his abdomen and the other in her shoulder. The first drops to the ground with a scream of pain, and the other drops her weapon, allowing me to run up to her and slam her head against the wall, knocking her out.
I duck and roll back into the kids' old room, just as gunfire erupts from the living room and strikes the master bedroom door. I hide myself inside the oversized toy trunk Maria got for the kids, now empty due to my alcohol-induced cleaning spree. After a moment, the door opens. Judging by the footsteps, three of them swarm in. I don't know how many more of their friends there are.
"Check the closet," the one who was shouting whispers. I crack the box open ever so slightly to peek around. They all have their backs to me.
Slowly, I open it all the way. I take aim at the one heading for the closet, shooting him in the back of the knee, then jump onto the one closest to me while simultaneously shooting at the third cop. I hit him in the shoulder, making him drop his shotgun, then another shot hits him in the leg and brings him down. I slam my pistol onto the face of the officer under me, then slip out of the room and into the living room.
I see three more in the room, all looking in my direction. Judging by the fact that they don't shoot immediately, they probably can't see me too well.
"... Sir? Is that you?" one asks. In response, I dive to the side, shooting his gun hand and making him drop his pistol with a yelp. I scramble into cover, it being a couch, and the officers fire at where I last was.
Once the gunfire stops I pop up from behind my cover and fire at the two officers, hitting one in the legs while hitting the other in his abdomen. They both drop to the floor and shout in pain, before I vault over the couch and rush the unarmed one, tackling him to the ground before punching him in the side of the head and knocking him out.
I keep my pistol at the ready, prepared for another to pop out. After a minute or two of silence, nothing comes. Content that I took care of them all, I leave through the fire escape on the side of the building, passing the officers writhing on the ground and moaning in pain in the hallway along the way. Once I reach the bottom of the fire escape and drop to the ground, I head off into the night, keeping to the various side allies to avoid any conflict on the way to my destination: Dave's house.
To Be Continued...
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