10:32 PM; July 25th, 2018
Entisen Apartments; New York CityThe last guy on my list was Frank Niagara, a high-ranking tough of Manfredi's. His nickname was 'the Bat', and no, it wasn't because he dressed up in a bat costume like that guy in Gotham. Back when I was a cop I would see the corpses of some of the people he tortured, using nothing but a wooden baseball bat. He knew just where to hit to ensure maximum pain without inflicting any lasting damage. Then he'd work his way up before finally executing his victim by completely pulverizing their head. Killing someone and leaving their face unrecognizable was the most disrespectful thing you could do to an Italian mobster; it meant their family couldn't have an open casket funeral.
He was cold, brutal, without mercy or remorse.
But I was worse. And tonight, he would die by my hand.
The apartment building he was staying at, Entisen Apartments, was owned by the mob. All the guys who lived there were linked to Manfredi in one way or another, same with all the guys who worked there. That meant I didn't have to feel bad if I killed a whole bunch of them. I snuck into the building through a basement window.
What I found was Niagara's latest victim, tied to a chair with half of his face caved in, dried blood caking his disheveled clothing. Even with all the things I had done along this journey to Hell, the sight made me sick. Next to the body was a card from a Mickey Mouse themed playing card deck. A King of Hearts, represented by Mickey Mouse making a heart with his hands. A dried up drop of blood marred the upper right corner of the card.
I pulled out my Glock, fitted with a suppressor. Take it slow and quiet, Castle. Slow and qui-
*THUNK!*
ISSUE #8
THE SMARTEST THING TO DO
Time Is An Illusion
The Inner Workings of A Twisted MindThe pictures on the walls showed happier times, snapshots of our wedding and family photos with the twins. Blood was smeared on the walls, their screams echoing through the halls of our home.
I remembered something she told me just a day before they were all killed. She called me while I was at work.
"Frank, I got something weird in the mail today... Something about Silvio Manfredi.""Sorry, Maria, I'm a bit busy. We can talk about it when I get home." I was busy, but with nothing important. Nothing was more important than her and the kids. But I didn't realize that until it was too late.
"Right, sorry. I'll see you when you get home. We're still taking the kids for the picnic tomorrow, right?""Of course. Love you."Gunfire.
Screams.
Blood.
You never realize what's important to you until it's too late.
11:14 PM; July 25th, 2018
Entisen Apartments; New York City
I stirred awake with a groan.
"So. Yer the famous Punisher?"I blinked the blood out of my eyes, looking for the source of the voice. What I saw was a fat man with a shark's grin, a bat clutched in his hands. I was looking at Frank 'the Bat' Niagara, just the man I was killing to see.
"I'm Frankie Niagara. The Bat.""Niagara?" I choked out,
"As in you cry a lot?" I was tied to a chair and he had a blood soaked bat in his hands. Making fun of him was the smartest thing to do.
*THWAK!**THUNK!**THUMP!*"Heheh. Yer a funny guy, Mr. Castle. Too bad jokes won't help yous out with me."I spat out blood.
"What, having a sense of humor doesn't run in the family? Your mother was laughing her ass off when I was telling 'em to her last night. Was what got me into her pants."*THA-CRAK!*Niagara swung the bat, nailing me straight in the face. He hit me with enough force to put a crack in the bat.
"Ya don't fuckin' talk about my mother, you son of a bitch!"Blood was pouring out of my nose and a gash on the left side of my forehead. I probably had a concussion at the very least. So I just stayed quiet, to avoid any further brain damage.
"I'm comin' the fuck back later. All this work's workin' up a thirst. Then I gotta get me a new fuckin' bat, 'cause ya face broke it so bad." He began to head out the door.
"Don't go nowhere," he said, before shutting the door behind him, not even bothering to lock it.
"You play, you pay, you bastard..."I began to struggle with the bonds. I don't know why I did. This seemed like a pretty fitting end to this tragedy: so close to the last target on my hitlist, only to get ambushed and killed. So blinded by rage and my thirst for revenge that I forgot I was still human, and could still be jumped. Sounded like something out of a Shakespeare play.
The chair was wooden, and judging by the creaks it made when I made the slightest move, it was about ready to break anyway. It took me a minute or two but with one last push, the chair broke into pieces. I undid my bonds, and clutched at my bruised and bloodied face. I checked my holsters; they had taken my guns. Of course they did.
All I had was Niagara's cracked bat, caked with my own blood.
The door he went through lead to a hallway, doors lined up on both sides.
Music was blaring from one of the apartments. There were room numbers on them, and I could hear voices behind every door. It'd be a dumb move to go in like some sort of action hero. But if we've learned anything along this journey, it's that I was a dumb move guy.
I kicked in the nearest door, labelled 101, and swung my bat at the nearest man, nailing him right in the left temple and putting him out for the count. There were two other guys who were still trying to process what happened. I threw my bat and hit one in the face, while pulling the gun from the pants of the one I just took out. A Beretta. At least they had good taste in weaponry.
I fell to the floor as the uninjured one took aim. He fired and missed just a second after I moved out of the way of the shot. I jumped up and fired at him, nailing him in the throat. I twisted around and shot the one who got a baseball bat to the face moments before.
I heard the animated talking from the other rooms be replaced by shouts of confusion and anger. "The fuck was that?!" "It's that lousy cop Frankie caught!" "Let's get him!" That kinda thing.
I pulled the Browning Hi-Power from the belt of one of the other two thugs I had just killed. I ran to the door and pressed myself up against the wall next to it. From my knowledge of firearms, the Browning had 13 rounds, and the Beretta had 15 (now 13 after I had used it). 26 shots. That would be enough. I took in a breath and waited for one of the gangsters to charge in...
I didn't have to wait long. One of the thugs ran in right past me, gun at the ready. I fired and nailed him in the back of the head. I leapt out into the hallway, finding four thugs with guns at the ready. The gunshot coupled with my sudden appearance put them in a momentary state of shock, unable to do anything but stare. I took advantage of that and fired, putting them all down.
21 shots.
I pressed myself against the wall, next to the closest unopened door. I kicked it open and aimed inside, finding no one; one of the other doors down the hall opened and out came a mobster, who fired and managed to hit me. I returned fire, putting him down. Thank God Frankie didn't strip me of my kevlar.
19 shots.
I had a stupid idea. The walls were pretty close together, and there was a decent sized gap between the top of the doors and the ceiling. Maybe...
I pressed my legs against the walls, pulling myself up to the ceiling and flattening myself against it. I was right above two adjacent doors.
The doors opened. Two mobsters stepped out, not leaving the doorways just yet, and looked around the hallway. Thankfully, they didn't look up. "Where the fuck is he?" one of the mobsters who came out asked the other, who shrugged in response.
I swung myself down, legs still keeping me on the roof, and aimed one gun at each of them.
*BANG!* *BLAM!*I dropped to the ground and jumped back to my feet, sticking both arms out and firing into the two rooms, managing to kill the remaining mobsters inside.
12 shots.
The hallway was clear. I moved on.
Frankie had said he'd be having a drink. The building, in its heyday, had been a hotel not unlike the Royal Palace, serving mobsters and the people who had enough money; it still had a restaurant and a bar from back then. As I exited the hallway and entered the main lobby, I saw a sign in the shape of an arrow reading 'bar', pointing to the left. I followed its directions.
Frankie was there, true to his word, having a beer. Four other mobsters were there as well.
"Frankie."He turned around and his eyes widened.
"What the fuck? How'd you get free?"I smirked.
"Got bored waiting, figured, 'what the hell? I'll go see what he's doing.'"He chuckled, sneering.
"Looks like we'll be finishing here."I dove to the side as he produced an Uzi. I fired at two of the mobsters that were in there with him, taking them both out before they could prove to be a problem.
10 shots.
I leapt onto a table as Frankie and the two remaining mobsters fired at me, running over several tables while firing back at them. One went down.
6 shots.
I jumped onto the bar and slid down it, firing in Frankie and the last mobster's direction. I took the last gangster down, but Frankie leapt out of the way of my shots, landing on a table while still firing.
1 shot left.
I rolled off the bar and came to a stop in front of the table Frankie was laying on, lying on the floor. He leveled his gun at my head before I could do the same to him.
"Heh. They shoulda called me Quickdraw. You're fuckin' dead, Castle." He pulled the trigger.
*Click*"Someone wasn't counting." I aimed at his shocked face.
*BANG!*
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