narrative Who: Frank Castle What: Frank just wants an easy life When: Late morning, 24th February Rating/Warnings: Green. One bad word at the end.
His raised hood was doing something to keep out the cold, but it was of little effect against the glare of the sun that had no right to be as bright as it was in February. It made even the dirtiest streets look welcoming under the clear blue sky. And Frank didn't hate it, it had just been a long, long time since he'd taken in something that simple.
Even in the middle of the day, in the middle of the week, the city was busy and the sidewalks were full of people dodging each other to get where they were going. He cast his eyes up to the rooftops, a much easier way to travel, though probably not right now. A little part of him hoped he'd somehow catch a glimpse of red if he looked up long enough and hard enough. Why, he couldn't say.
Frank took a sip from his coffee and reached a hand into his pocket for his phone. It was perhaps the hundredth time he'd debated texting Karen, telling her who he was now, where he was now. Back to the cycle of internal debate about dragging her into his life once more-
He staggered, a wave of nausea washing over him, coffee hitting the floor as he grabbed for the nearest wall to stop himself following it. The world spun, sweat broke out on his skin, and as soon as it had started it stopped. But the ground beneath him was now grass. The wall was a tree. And Frank was sure he'd just lost his fucking mind.