This is a call to arms Characters: Frank Castle, OTA Setting:Hotel, Streets of New York Content:Violence, Language, Punisher Summary: Frank Castle takes out the trash
Frank had to recite the words in his head over and over again to make them sound real, he wasn't really alive anymore since the death of his family. He wanted revenge whether it was with the crime families that left his wife, daughter, and son bullet-ridden and lifeless or with his former brethren of New York's Finest, the NYPD. While hunting down those who destroyed his life Frank still wanted to protect and serve, suspended from the NYPD he took it upon himself to take care of the cases that slipped through the fingers of those careless unsuspecting traitors.
"Tabitha Myers, age twenty-eight, beaten raped and murdered. They found the body with cigarette burns down her back and a finger removed. Post mortem," he stated tonelessly. Castle stood behind the accused, the stench of his cigar filling the dimly lit room. "Now to put a little light on the subject." Castle took a long drag from his cigar and exhaled before burying the lit end against his victim's face, searing the flesh of his cheek. A muffled screamed was all Frank could hear.
He turned on the overhead light for a better view of his victim. Caucasian male, thirty-five, about six-two. Strapped to the metal chair with barbed wire criss-crossing over his ribs, wrists bound along the arms of the chair. The man had no distinguishable facial features aside from the sinful beauty mark left by Frank's cigar. Castle walked over to a small table next to his new found friend, on top of the table was the bound man's wallet and keys,in front of his ID was a condom. "Well you play it safe don't you?" Castle said ripping the condom out of the wallet to get to his id. "Martin McCarthy born September 14, 1984, died...we'll discuss that later. And from Boston, Mass. I hate the Red Sox." Castle removed the gag from the mouth of his marked man.
"Wha-t a-a-are you-u going to do to me?" McCarthy stuttered out, trembling with fear.
"We're going to play a game Marty, you like games?"
"N-nno?"
"We're going to play, 'cause obviously you're not the type who takes no for an answer," Frank said punching his stone-like hand into the back of Martin's skull. "Just wanted to make sure you're awake, when I explain the instructions." Frank picked up a baseball bat from underneath the table and began to pace.
"I'm going to need your full cooperation here because you can get out of this with only a few scratches, a shiner, and that kiss from the end of my stogie. When I was your age I was told when you're romancing a girl and you want to last a while longer you think about cooking or baseball. Now I was never a good cook, my wife was may she rest in peace, so I'll have to go with sports, but I digress. I'm going to ask you a few questions and your honesty with me will make our time together a lot more pleasurable for you." He began to take a few warm up swings.
"So now batting for the Boston Red Sox Martin McCarthy. McCarthy is a young batter who stole home in a previous at bat, but he's never had to face someone like Frank Castle before. I know I'm in the wrong kid, what with me holding the bat but the patron saint of baseball will forgive me this time" Castle stood up and took a few practice swings towards McCarthy's face, missing his nose by only inches. "And here's the first pitch, why did you rape and murder Tabitha Myers?"
"I didn't do anything!" he screamed.
Frank turned his head, smirking, and swung the bat down across both McCarthy's knee caps. "Strike one." McCarthy writhed in pain and Frank could see the barbed-wire cutting into Mccarthy's arms. "Careful, you don't want to make a mess or you'll never get your deposit back on the place. Now lets face it, I know you raped and killed her and if there was anyone on the force who was doing their job instead of dealing dope you'd be sitting in a nice office discussing alibis with your lawyer."
"Fuck you man!" Martin yelled through his tears, spit, and snot.
"Strike two," Frank said calmly, bringing the bat down on Martin's left shoulder, dislocating it. "If you weren't guilty you would have told me everything after your knees gave out on you."
"Please God, get me out of here, I made a mistake." Sobbing, McCarthy lost control of his bladder. "Just give me another chance, I-I fucked up, I did it, things got carried away, I-Oh God I'm sorry."
"You admit to your guilt and you want redemption?" Castle asked and Martin nodded. Castle began to untie him and ordered, "On your knees, you're going to pray." He lowered Martin onto his knees as the man screamed in agony.
"You're going to pray, put your hands together. Yeah, I know your shoulder is busted so grab your hand with the other." Frank circled him and led him in prayer, "Our father who art in heaven hallowed be thy name..." Frank stood behind him, "They kingdom come, thy will be done." He broke the baseball bat across Martin's head, fragments of skull scattering over the floor. "Strike three." Frank Castle dropped the bat and walked out of the room, leaving a broken bat, a broken man, and a new found purpose.
Frank walked into the crowd knowing all he had to do was blend in, be just like everyone else and become another face in the crowd. "Room service is going to be pissed." he smirked to himself and as everyone was rushing about to get to work, Frank's work was done.