punish-the-guilty - Tumblr blog

[punish-the-guilty]

Frank has a multitude of cars that he stashes around the city- each of them either stolen from his past targets or bought with the money he takes from them afterwards.

Because they're all meant to be disposable should the police ever start tracking a report of the vehicle he's driving he has very little attachment to any of them and values function well over form. As such most of his cars will have the interiors torn out- sometimes resold to cover future costs- and slabs of steel plates inserted into the doors for protection. A typical upgrade he gives them are bulletproof panels made to slide down over the windows and a forward-facing camera so he can still drive with the windshield covered.

He might use simple everyday cars for location scouting and casing certain areas- in fact it actually helps a lot to have multiple different cars so targets can avoid spotting him. But when he's out on a mission he'll tend to favor pony cars for city locations where he needs high speed and good handling or muscle cars for out in more isolated areas with long stretches of road.

While he tries to avoid repetition so he can't be picked out beforehand, Frank does generally favor the Mustang GT.

[punish-the-guilty]

The Punisher MAX #10 - Cover art by Tim Bradstreet

[punish-the-guilty]

What Are You Made Of ?

Blood & Smoke

You're angry. Your heart is consumed by fire, because no one else can understand the way they hurt you. You gave them everything you had, your time and love, and still they chose to betray you. You wish that somebody understood, anybody out there. I hear you, little flame, I do. You need a hand to hold, but you can't be sure they won't stab you in the back again, so why bother? I implore you to try anyway. Get up everyday, use your spite as power, and never back down from a challenge, be it noble. You're a hero that will be painted as the villain time and time again; keep going anyway. Those most remembered are loved so little in life.

Stolen from: @cxpperhead

Tagging: @nameaprice @thekavseklabs

[punish-the-guilty]

Frank was never one to take somebody in from the aftermath of an operation. But there were rare circumstances that could see him move somebody around. Whoever this was wouldn't last long if left to the city- or if the remnants of the syndicate showed back up looking for the cause of all this. He wouldn't be much better than them if he just left this one to the wolves.

"Come on," he said flatly. Frank turned to the back door he'd breached initially and lead the other through the back of the compound. Though everything was quiet now he kept his rifle raised and his attention on any doors, windows, or pathways any stragglers could show up through. Once they made their way through to his planned exit they would come up on a black Mustang parked inconspicuously on the side of the road. The windows were blacked out and he pulled the door open, motioning with his other hand for the other to get in on the other side.

"In the back," he added.

Frank dropped into the driver's seat and shut the door. Inside, the doors and panels were covered in thick metal cutouts bolted through the interior- a rough but effective form of bulletproofing. A computer was mounted beside the steering wheel much like in a police cruiser. Whatever polish and care for the vehicle existed on the outside was clearly missing from within.

"I'll take you to a safe house for tonight. You can figure out what you want to do."

Spades met the stare with eyes just slightly too large to be human before blinking with clear eyelids underneath his main ones, too nervous to close his eyes entirely. The Punisher? He'd heard mentions before, but never anything specific, more just offhanded mentions. His mistress had believed herself above him. Invincible. She'd been so strong against the outside, and so blind to the resentment building right next to her. No wonder she hadn't cared about some 'Punisher' guy killing her associates.

He spoke softly, a subtle purr to his voice that sounded like some sort of strange trill on his consonants now that he was less tense.

"No, I... I lived here until now. I was going to find a hole for the night, if I made it out... Or something. I don't know."

Frankly, he hadn't actually thought that far ahead when he'd acted. Instinct had guided him. Some invisible tug that pulled him even then to track down the next target. It had been years since he'd last killed, but the buzz of it was strong in his veins now that he'd done it. Digging for temporary shelter was second nature to any Kei even without the training to do so, but he knew that saying so would probably come across oddly, what with the time it took most humans to dig a decent simple hole, let alone a burrow.

"... I assume you have more of a plan than I do."

[punish-the-guilty]

"And this is a public sidewalk," he answered back as he stood against the wall. His eyes glanced behind her to the entrance where the meeting was taking place. Frank didn't know who this new arrival was and he was no judge of music, but the chance that anybody was after a meeting with Lil' Rock for his musical talent was slim to none.

"What company are you with?" he said after taking a look at the black unmarked car nearby. "Must be a big one if you don't bother to advertise."

From beneath her sunglasses, Sivir lifted an eyebrow at the man, but a second later understood he mistook her as someone else's bodyguard. She was there to protect the wealthy man dealing with Lil Rock "I don't think he can afford me.", she said with surety. They were there about her employer sponsoring him. She didn't know what for, and had no interest in finding out. The less one knew about such things, the better.

The way his eyes skimmed everything around them and how his gait had absolutely no falter told the bodyguard he was no regular civilian looking for a lap dance from the dancers. She was sure to keep an eye on him "You're gonna have to come back later. This is a private appointment."

[punish-the-guilty]

"I leave this as a declaration of intent, so no one will be confused.

One: "Si vis pacem, para bellum." Latin. Bootcamp Drill Instructor made us recite it like a prayer. "Si vis pacem, para bellum - If you want peace, prepare for war."

Two: Frank Castle is dead. He died with his family.

Three: In certain extreme situations, the law is inadequate. In order to shame its inadequacy, it is necessary to act outside the law. To pursue natural justice.

This is not vengeance. Revenge is not a valid motive, it's an emotional response. No, not vengeance. Punishment."

[punish-the-guilty]

Frank was already dropping the last magazine into his dump pouch and replacing it with a fresh one when Spades started speaking. He paused and glanced over to him before pulling a breaching shotgun shell from a loop on his mag pouch and replacing the one he'd used. As far as he knew it was all over. But he wasn't going to be unprepared for surprises.

After a few moments of silence he finally spoke. "The Punisher." He stared at the strange thing, trying to figure out what he was looking at. He looked like maybe he could have been human at some point. It made a lot more sense than making the whole 'aliens are real' plunge. With the horns he could also see him pass for a demon- though that might make him even safer in this city. Whatever he was it didn't matter to Frank much beyond the danger he might be in if he went wandering the city. "Do you have somewhere you can go?"

At the first gunshot from Frank making his rounds, Spades visibly startled, jumping into the air and landing in a wide stance with gun ready. A moment later, he figured out what was happening and returned to his more casual stance, though he still kept his gun at his side as he watched Frank make his rounds. Seemed a bit wasteful... But he couldn't really blame him for making certain the job was done. He was more wary of the approach, but when the coat was pulled loose and held out, he relaxed a touch, accepting it and pulling it on. It fit him oddly, as he was entirely too tall for it at eight feet, and somewhat too slender, but it covered his skimpy outfit and he could curl up his tail and hide it if he really tried. It was something.

"Thanks. Uh—it's fine if you don't want to answer, but who are you? I wasn't expecting any help."

[punish-the-guilty]

Frank had seen plenty of strange things in his time. Even things he still couldn't explain. But this was the first time he'd ever seen something that looked like... whatever that thing was. He didn't like seeing it run towards him and he especially didn't like it getting behind him. But his best judgement told him it was one of the rumored experiments in the city who probably recognized somebody with a common enemy.

Between the two of them the manor was cleared of the guards in no time. The element of surprise and the good fortune of Frank appearing at their flank made it a faster ordeal than originally planned. While the... third party.... caught their breath Frank made good on the skull spray painted across his plate carrier and made his rounds among the bodies, finding the high value targets and the critical casualties, and fired a round through each of their faces- spraying bone and viscera across the club.

When he came to the one who had started all this, Frank stood and stared with a stern, unchanging expression. He still held his rifle, but at the low-ready. Ready to react to trouble more than start it.

He didn't make a habit of looking after those left behind at his scenes. But this one couldn't exactly blend in. Pulling his arm from one sleeve of his trench coat, then the other, he pulled it loose from beneath the sling of his rifle and handed it out to the other.

It quickly became apparent who exactly was the cause of the ruckus. The man, for all his inhuman traits and height, looked like he'd be more suited to the stage than to the combat, but he held his own against guards regardless, kicking over tables to hide behind them and shooting seemingly wildly, though he was careful to avoid the dancers and servers as well, targeting guests and guards. Periodically he'd shout, whether in pain or warning, and electricity often sparked around him, sometimes causing his appearance to flicker between ethereal and ragged when objects came into contact with him, as if they were disrupting some sort of field.

At first, he ignored Frank, having registered him as just another guard to shoot down, but luckily, he realized the difference before actually trying to do so. From there, he decided to take advantage of the help, even if he didn't know why the other man was here, and hopped out from behind his cover, running forward to stand behind Frank to cover his back until the crowd of guards was thinned out enough that he felt comfortable doing away with caution and chasing down the remainder with single minded purpose. Only once the building was cleared did he stop, splattered in blood and breathing heavily.

[punish-the-guilty]

[punish-the-guilty]

@thekavseklabs liked for a starter

If there was something Frank knew about combat it was that all the planning in the world could be undone from some unaccountable shift in luck- one way or the other. When he stood at the back entrance of the strip club he heard the unmistakable sound of gunshots coming from somewhere within the manor attached. He didn't know what was going on but if he backed out now then security would only be tighter as a result of whatever was going on now- and the three bodies he'd left staged in the flower beds.

His original plan of a quiet entrance was undone now. Instead he placed the barrel of the breaching shotgun mounted beneath his M4A1 against the frame of the back door and fired a round, quickly cycling the shotgun, and kicking the door in.

What chaos was already unleashed inside was only compounded on as Frank fired into the club's security, affluent visitors, and obvious thugs. This wasn't some random club in the city. This was an addition to the manor of a crime boss. Armed or not, nobody was here by accident. What had been made a safe haven from whatever was happening in the manor was now a trash bag for Neon City's garbage.

Frank's trigger finger only seemed to rest when swapping magazines or when one of the dancers or servers went rushing by. Bodies fell over tables, slid down walls, writhed on the floor, slumped across the seats. It was only a drop in the bucket for a city like this, but it was start.

[punish-the-guilty]

@nameaprice liked for a starter

Waving their cash around was nothing new for wannabe thugs. Lil Rock was always dropping more than his fair share on new chains and cars- but high end bodyguards was uncharted territory for him. Not the usual style for a two bit gangbanger with a middling rap career. Either a new agent got him signed for something big, or he was moving in on something big enough to finally escalate him up Frank's list.

And why not ask one of the new hires?

Frank's black t-shirt lacked the typical white skull motif. It was easier for him to get around without showing it off in his day to day. The plate carrier in the trunk of his nearby car, however, was a different story. He approached the new bodyguard at the entrance of the gaudy club Lil Rock and his old 7th Street Boys liked to gather at.

"A little official looking for Rock, aren't you?"

[punish-the-guilty]

Like this post for a starter!

[punish-the-guilty]

The Punisher, 2004.

[punish-the-guilty]

Dolph Lundgren in The Punisher (1989) dir. Mark Goldblatt

[punish-the-guilty]

The dim blue light of the early morning washed into the dark apartment building as the doors were pushed open. The extra light beyond the flickering lightbulb and sound of rain sent cockroaches scattering across the scuffed floors. It was a building forgotten to all but those who lived there and the owner when rent was due- and even he didn't seem to want to stick around for long.

Frank stepped over the old boozer from Apartment Eleven who'd only made it as far as the stairs before calling it a night. Thunder shook the cracked walls. Rainwater dripped from Frank's slicked back hair and trench coat, leaving a trail up to the third floor.

He readjusted the heavy duffel bag hoisted up onto his shoulder, metal contents rattling within.

A pair of junkies lined the hall, spilling out from one of the rooms that had turned into a den for them to gather. The door to Frank's right opened and a thin woman shuffled her daughter from the apartment- the girl staring up at Frank with wide eyes, pulling her flower pattern backpack a bit tighter to herself. He'd seen her before. Knew she referred to him as 'the scary man' to her mother.

He watched them disappear back into the stairwell, mind drifting for only a moment back to his little girl.

His thoughts were brought back to the present when he felt one of the junkies picking at his coat. Frank turned back to the end of the hallway and continued down passed a woman standing doubled over beside the den, the floor wet with her drool beneath. They never got too rowdy. But he still watched them- didn't like how close they were to the little girl's apartment.

Frank's room was easy to spot. His had a brand new door. The landlord had gotten up in arms when he saw Frank ripping the frame out for the new security frame. But he backed down quickly. He'd already let the building go in so many other ways that it wasn't worth getting upset over another one.

Frank slid a complicated key into the recessed lock face and click it open, a panel flipping on the front of the metal door with a reader that he set his thumb onto. With a beep the deadbolt clacked aside and he pushed the heavy door open.

Inside the dilapidated room he dropped his bag with the contents rattling loudly onto the cheap folding table he'd brought when he moved in. He unfastened the front buttons of his trench coat and shrugged it off, throwing it onto the table. The stark white skull on his t-shirt shone dimly in the room that was made near pitch black from the garbage bags he'd taped over the windows.

He walked across the room to a pin board and struck a red mark through a pinned photo with a marker. Vinnie Bonetti. Extortion, drug smuggling, drug distribution, murder. Associate under Angelo "The Nose" Nasato.

Strands of yarn bridged between the man in the photo and several others, notes taped down beside them to keep track of who they were, how they were connected, and what they were in charge of. There were many others on the board, each waiting their turn.

Frank stared between the photos for a while until a pain in his stomach took his attention away from them. He'd forgotten to eat again. The Nose would have to wait. For now he took his duffel bag off the table and into the bedroom. He hoisted an old footlocker over to the side of an old fold out cot and unzipped the duffel bag. He reached in and pulled out his tools from the night before. A silver 1911 and a disassembled M4 carbine. He set them out on the footlocker and reached beneath the cot for an MRE and bottle of water. Turning a small radio he set to maintaining his weapons and himself while police chatter played from the radio.

[punish-the-guilty]

Likes / Follows from @belost-the-watcher

Semi-canon divergent

Canon, original, and non-Marvel characters welcome

Biography | Out Of Character Info