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undeadsnorlax · 4 years ago

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Stick ‘Em Up

Archive of Our Own

@badthingshappenbingo

I have been struck with Punisher brainrot the last few weeks, so why not fill a prompt up with my man Castle. my first time writing for this universe (or at least, first time publishing). and it’s sort of...my own version of the Marvel universe because canon is a playground and I’m a child who wants to break the swings.

Prompt: Hostage Situation

Fandom: Marvel Comics/The Punisher

Warnings: Canon-typical violence (all the stuff you’d expect from the Punisher, guns and killing)

Wordcount: 4596

Four robbers. Fifteen civilians. And one Punisher.

Or, Frank goes to the bank to cash a cheque and ends up caught in a hostage situation.

“Hey. Can you talk?”

“Yeah, yeah. Keep it quiet though. I’m in public.”

“Ooo, anywhere nice?”

“No. The bank.”

Frank could practically hear Micro rolling his eyes at his bluntness from the other side of the phone, only covered by the slight rumble of his computer chair moving across the floor.

“Cashing the cheque you got from Monroe, huh?”

Frank wrinkled his nose, peering over the line of people in front of him. “Uh-huh. I need a restock. Think you can arrange a meeting with Jackson?”

“Mm, sure can. I still can’t believe Monroe tried to bribe you into not killing him,” Micro scoffed, the usual click-clack of his keyboard audible under his voice, “Like, who the hell does that? You sure it’s a good idea to do this so soon though? The guy only just died…”

“Hasn’t been reported yet.” He dropped his voice, adding a slight growl as he spoke. “Probably won’t for a while, given where he’s laying now.”

“Urgh. I hate when you do that voice.”

On the other end of the line, there were a few beeps and bwoops, as Micro let out a content hum. “Anyway, called because I got more info on Ray Broad. I’ll drop it off at the usual spot at seven – sorry, at nineteen hundred hours. Then I’ll get Jackson to meet you in the usual spot at twenty-three hundred, ask if he’s got anything new in. Think you’ll be done by then?”

Frank shuffled up in the line, seemingly no closer to the front than when he’d started. “Hopefully. Thanks. Keep in touch.”

“Wow, that all I get-“

He hit the hang up button before Micro could finish, tucking his phone back into his jacket. With a small huff, he shoved his hands into his pockets, glancing around the rest of the bank. Every other line seemed just as slow, the other two that were open, the workers behind the glass looking stressed to get through everyone in good time.

Understaffed maybe?

“Hey grandma, hurry up will you?”

Frank’s attention moved to face ahead of him. He was only three people away from the counter. Currently being served was an elderly woman, and just behind her some impatient suit who crossed his arms.

The old lady turned around, a hand to her chest as she scowled. “Excuse me?”

“Sir, please,” the teller said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “I understand this is taking a while but-“

“You heard me,” the suit scoffed, ignoring the teller entirely, “Hurry your ass! You’re holding everyone up!”

Frank rolled his eyes a little, tuning out the conversation. Not my problem. Sooner he could get out of here, the better.

He wouldn’t usually waste time like this, but financing could be hard for vigilantes, and it was only a matter of days before Monroe’s body washed up somewhere along the East River. Or parts of him, anyway.

Six grand to save his life. Cheapskate even in the face of death. But it’d get Frank enough bullets to down another several jerks, so he could hardly complain.

The automatic doors at the entrance swung open again. He looked out of habit, keeping cautious to any small sound.

A group of four breezed in, nothing exactly out of the ordinary as three of them separated out to different corners of the room, one staying lingering by the door.

The hairs at the back of his neck pricked up.

They were each wearing a mask, those creepy ones you could get at a craft store in different vibrant colours. Somehow nobody had noticed, but then again not everyone was Frank Castle, years of extensive military training and intense paranoia all rolled up into one man.

The suit and old lady were still arguing, the teller desperately looking toward one of her co-workers for help. The woman just in front of Frank tutted, turning back to make some comment to him about this behaviour, but he was already distracted by flitting his focus on each of the newcomers, watching as one began to lock the door, when-

Bang-bang!

The sound of gunshots rang through the building, the presumably lead dipshit pointing a gun in the air as they looked around.

“Everyone on the ground, now!”

The security shutter was slammed over the door, as a few patrons let out a scream, another shot being fired.

“Nobody move or try anything funny, and this will be over soon.” He swerved around, nodding at the three bank tellers. “We’ve already disabled the alarm system, so don’t even try.”

“Shit,” Frank hissed, slipping his hand inside his jacket before cursing again.

No gun. Not even a goddamn combat knife. Out of character. He gritted his teeth as he remembered he’d just washed this jacket, forgot to put something into the concealed holster in his rush to get this over with. Idiot. You always double check!

Two of the robbers advanced at the counter, pistols outstretched. Frank glanced over what they were wielding – 9mm, semi-automatic. Browning, maybe? Not a scratch, they’re brand new. And it was obvious from how they held them. They had some conviction, some cocky air, but it was clear they’d barely even held the things before.

“I said get down!”

One swung around, aiming at the impatient suited guy from earlier. The guy hesitated just a second too long, frozen at the sight of the gun barrel staring him down, and was met with the base of the pistol smacked into the side of his head.

This was serious then.

He quickly dropped to his knees, hands raised up and shaking. Soon everyone followed, until Frank was the last one standing.

He hesitated, glancing around the room. Four robbers. Fifteen civilians.

And one Punisher.

“Hey! You listening?”

Reluctantly for now, Frank raised his hands and put them behind his head, kneeling down. He’d just have to wait.

“You two, keep everyone here in check,” the leader said, walking up to the staff door and kicking it open.

He reappeared on the other side of the counter and immediately grabbed the wrist of the clerk that had been serving Frank’s line, pinning it behind her back and lodging his gun to her neck. She tried to yell out, but the gun was just shoved harder.

“Shut it! You’re gonna take us through to the safes. Cyrus, you’re with me.”

The last guy nodded, jogging up before the three disappeared into the back room.

Frank swallowed, figuring out how to do this. He never usually found himself on this side of a situation, even when things went really bad. Even then, he usually had something to hand from his arsenal to help him. For now, all he had was his wits.

He took in the two left behind. One in a pink mask, one in a yellow. The leader had been wearing a black one, while the ‘Cyrus’ guy he’d yelled for was in blue. Good way to distinguish them all.

Yellow started to pace around the others being held hostage, whilst Pink, who’d been the one to hit the suited guy, stayed nearby, bouncing on his toes uneasily. It was almost impressive that out of this team of four, only one of them was fully confident, and they’d still managed to get this far, even for a bank branch so small.

Almost impressive.

“Can’t believe we’re doing this in broad daylight,” Pink said, rolling his head around his neck, “This feels too easy.”

“Dude, shut up,” Yellow snapped, kicking someone’s bag out of the way as he passed them, “Okay? Blayke knows what we’re looking for, and we’ll be outta here before anyone realises something’s up.” “I’m just saying, wouldn’t it be easier at night?”

He has a point, Frank thought, watching their movements carefully, Why would you break in during the day?

A whimper came from Frank’s side, distracting him. The woman who had been in front of him in line had huddled in on herself as much as she could, shaking like crazy as tears rolled down her face. He waited a moment until Pink turned away from them, before leaning in a little closer, keeping his voice hushed.

“Hey. What’s your name?”

The woman looked up, puzzled as she sniffed. “I-it’s Moira…”

“Okay Moira, I’m Frank.” He gave his best smile, as warm as he could manage right now. “I’ll get us out of this, okay?”

“How the hell are you gonna do that?!” came the hissed voice of the suited guy, gritting his teeth as he made sure the robber didn’t hear, “They have guns.”

“You have me,” Frank replied. Blunt and honest. “You got a name?”

“Jeremy, and-“ He cut himself off, eyes widening. “Wait, are you an Avenger?”

Frank couldn’t help scoffing, shuffling on his knees a little. If he timed it right, he could probably launch himself up from this position and have one of these assholes on the floor before the other could fire. Or maybe-

“Or like, an X-Men? Or...X-Man? Is...is that the singular?”

Oh, he’s still talking.

“Keep it down. I’m not-“

“Daredevil?”

Frank glared ahead. He went to snap some retort, but was beaten to the punch by the elderly lady smacking Jeremy across his arm.

“Hush, will you? He’s twice the size of Daredevil.” She leaned forward a little, aiming such a sweet smile in Frank’s direction. “Gladys, by the way.”

He blinked and nodded his greeting. Forming a whole little gang here...they could be useful though.

“Do you mean it though?”

Moira��s voice was weak, cracking at the edges as she kept sniffing loudly. “Can you really help us?”

“Yeah. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Hey! Keep it quiet back there!” Pink snapped, glancing over his shoulder.

Frank grinded his teeth together, glancing at the three to his side. He wouldn’t usually involve normal citizens, but he needed to disarm at least one of these jerks...just needed to bring them closer.

“I’m gonna need you to play along,” he whispered, just enough so the three of them heard, “Follow my lead.”

He waited for them all to nod, and he swallowed heavily. Drama had never been his strong suit in school, but he’d have to try.

He scrunched his face up and groaned loudly, lowering his hands to clutch his stomach. This didn’t draw any attention, so Gladys leaned forward a little.

“You alright sweetheart?” she cooed.

Frank forced a fake whine, doubling over and gripping his middle tighter. Moira gulped back some tears and called out.

“H-hey! Excuse me! This guy’s hurt here!”

Pink glanced down at Frank, before looking over at Yellow on the other side of the room. “What’s the protocol?”

“I dunno,” Yellow said, shrugging dismissively, “We were just told to watch them.”

Frank groaned again, slowly inching the zipper of his jacket down. Might as well make this a big entrance when it came to it.

“I know first aid,” Jeremy piped up with a shaky voice, making as if he was going to move, but the gun was pointed in his direction once more.

“You stay there!” Pink barked. He trailed off a little as Frank fell forward onto his elbows, starting to pant a little. “He seriously doesn’t look good Yas. Is this like, a heart attack or something?”

“Christ, just check him, then let that douchebag there help if it’s something serious.”

Perfect.

Irritatingly, Pink holstered his pistol as he came over, tucked into the pocket of his pants, but he could still reach it easily if he was quick enough.

Pink crouched down, putting a hand to Frank’s shoulder and rolling him onto his side a little.

“You good man? You got some kinda meds you need or-”

He froze. Thank God for strong branding and very few of Frank’s clothes not having it. With his jacket now unzipped, there was no missing the skull logo emblazoned on the shirt underneath.

Barely visible behind the holes of the mask, Pink’s eyes bulged. Frank allowed himself a quick grin.

“Shit, Yas, it’s the Pun-!”

Frank didn’t give him much more of a chance to finish as he lunged a hand toward his throat, sitting up in the same swift motion.

Pink was slammed to the floor, choking and flailing helplessly as Frank used his other hand to grab the pistol. My arm is now complete!

“What the fuck-“

Yellow’s focus was drawn to the scene now, as Frank scrambled to his feet, pacing forward as he quickly checked over the gun. Safety off, fully loaded clip. Cheap and cheerful, but it’d do whatever job he asked of it.

Pink still flailed on the ground, pointing at the skull as he desperately tried to catch his breath once more. Yellow faltered, taking a step back in shock.

“He’s the Punisher?!” Jeremy hissed behind him.

“We can do this quickly,” Frank said, dropping his voice down from his previous casual tone, “Best not to draw it out.”

“Thought you were more shoot first, ask questions later,” Yellow said, barely hiding the nervous chuckle he let out, “Too much collateral damage around for the Punisher?

Shit. The asshole wasn’t wrong. Frank was an exact shot, but it almost wasn’t worth killing these jerks at the risk of the civilians' lives.

Yellow took advantage of that hesitation, grabbing one of the other hostages and holding his gun to her head as she cried out. Frank sucked in through his teeth, calculating how he could do this. If he was clever, he’d manage to hit his hand or maybe his leg, something enough to get him to drop the hostage…

From behind him there was a yell, as Pink finally recovered and ran forward, attempting in vain to rush Frank and push him down. Of course it did nothing, other than piss him off when he was already in a bad mood.

It almost wasn’t worth killing them.

Frank swung a punch into his gut, winding him enough that he stumbled. Pink gasped, clutching his stomach, but still tried to run at him again. Frank huffed, grabbing Pink by the collar, fingers twisting the fabric of his shirt as he lifted him up, just enough that his toes were still on the ground.

He glanced at the pistol still in his hand.

“Wait, no, no, don’t-!”

The gun was lodged under Pink’s chin and fired without another thought.

There were a few screams as the body hit the floor with that dull thud he was numb to. He turned back, wiping the splashes of blood from his cheek with the heel of his hand, teeth bared.

Yellow started to shake, glancing around. Frank moved closer, head cocked to his shoulder.

“Let her go bud,” he growled, tensing the fingers of his free hand, “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

Yellow’s knees buckled slightly, losing all confidence in a few seconds as his gun fell to his side. He still had some cockiness left, as he shoved the hostage right into Frank, unexpectedly enough that he stumbled.

With Frank briefly distracted, muttering an apology to the lady as he got her steady, Yellow tried to make a break for it, rushing toward the staff door the rest of his crew had disappeared into earlier. Before he could make it, however, Gladys threw out her handbag, causing him to get tangled in the strap and trip into the ground with a hard smack.

Thank you grandma, Frank thought with a raised brow, rushing over and standing over Yellow, pressing one heavy boot down into his back.

He tossed a look back at the other customers, then toward the remaining bank tellers, still cowering behind the counter. “Keep quiet. Get that door open and get these people to safety. I’ll take it from here.”

The nearest one nodded, hurrying out and toward the entrance, as several of the hostages started to get to their feet, confused but clearly relieved as they awkwardly sidestepped Pink’s body.

Under his foot, Yellow whimpered. Frank just pushed down harder with a soft growl, a finger tensed against the pistol's trigger guard. “One wrong move kid, and I’ll-“

A hand brushed against his elbow, causing him to flinch as he turned his head, but it was only Moira, still sniffing. Lucky he wasn’t so itchy on the trigger.

“...thank you,” she whispered, smiling weakly as she moved to the exit.

Frank blinked, but gave a small nod, watching as the doors were opened and everyone filed out. He stayed where he was, glancing at the staff door every so often just in case. Still, he caught Jeremy immediately getting his phone out, grabbing his wrist as he passed.

“You better be calling your mommy.”

Jeremy hissed from the grip, struggling to pull away, letting Frank read the 911 already typed onto the screen.

“You’re the goddamn Punisher!” Jeremy said, stumbling as Frank finally let him go, “You killed a guy in front of us!”

“A guy who smacked you with a gun. You’re bruising already.” Frank blew out a dismissive breath, rolling his shoulders. “You wanna call the cops? Go ahead. I’ll be finished before they get here.”

He watched Jeremy fluster. The guy clearly wanted to argue, do some moral highhorsing or whatever it was people who didn’t understand his work did, but one half-hearted glare was all it took for him to back down.

“I’m still calling the authorities!” he cried, showing he’d hit dial on his phone’s screen as he stormed out.

Frank grunted, now alone in the bank’s lobby. Great. Got a time limit now.

Under his boot, Yellow squirmed. He’d almost forgotten about this asshole.

“What are you gonna do to me?” Yellow asked, voice quiet.

“Was waiting for it to be just the two of us, that’s all.” Frank wrinkled his nose, lifting the pistol up and aiming it at the back of Yellow’s head. “Traumatised the civilians enough killing your buddy. But, before I do anything...are you part of some bigger thing?”

Yellow started to answer, but Frank’s heel dug into his spine. “And as you can imagine, I don’t like liars.”

“N-no...there’s a few others, but we’re small time. Smaller than small, barely worth the time. I swear.”

He yelled out as Frank ground his boot down, pushing his full weight into him.

“Mould can start small,” he said, coldly, “Something you can ignore. But it grows eventually if you don’t take care of it, cause a lot more problems later down the line. Address. Names. Now.”

“I don’t know any, I never dealt with the higher ups. That’s Blayke’s job!”

Frank raised a brow. “That the one in the black mask?”

Yellow gasped for air, nodding. “Yeah. That’s all I know. I swear. We’re not important.”

“What the fuck-?!”

Frank looked up, to see the Blue masked robber standing behind the counter. He huffed, firing two shots off into Yellow’s head, feeling the breath leave under him. He’d outlived his usefulness.

Blue gulped, frozen and shaking on the spot. Frank quickly ducked to grab Yellow’s gun, still on the floor where he’d dropped it, tucking it into the waistband of his jeans, before walking through the staff door toward him.

“Yo, Cy! What’s with the racket?” came the leader’s voice from the other room, “Pierce acting up?”

Frank tilted his head, then pressed a finger to his lips, before making a turning gesture. Blue nodded obediently, doing as he was told. He was still shaking, but did well in disguising that anything was out of place as he called back.

“N...nothing boss. All good here. Yeah, just Pierce flexing a little, no worries.”

“Good man,” Frank whispered, stepping up behind and snapping the man’s neck with ease. Compliance deserved something swift.

He fell to the ground like a sack of flour, leaving his mask ripe for plucking off.

Frank took Blue’s face in. He looked young.

Wrong crowd huh kid? he thought, putting the mask on and walking through the back room.

The black masked guy was distracted, standing in front of a wall of half-open safety deposit boxes, most of their contents discarded to the floor.

“Where the fuck is it?!” he cried, turning to glare at the bank teller, cowering in one corner, “You said it was here!”

“I-I opened the safes with the numbers you gave me, there’s not much else I can do-!”

Frank cleared his throat to let them know of his presence. Black turned around, but barely looked, still clearly too frustrated to see his companion had grown a few inches and gained thirty pounds of muscle.

“It’s not here,” he said with a huff, pulling his mask off and throwing it to the ground, revealing another younger guy, “We were lied to.”

“Hm. What a waste.”

Black blinked, finally actually looking at Frank, and of course homing in on the skull.

“Oh...oh shit…! What happened to Cyrus?”

“What do you think?” Frank asked, ripping the mask off with a snap of cheap elastic, “Now let the lady go and we can have a nice civil discussion.”

Black had started to fire at him before he even finished his sentence. Frank was anticipating it though, and dived to the floor, rolling out of the way and behind a nearby desk.

“Shame,” he muttered, checking the one pistol again quickly before firing a few shots over the desk.

They pinged off the wall behind Black, one managing to graze his shoulder and making him hiss out in pain. He kicked down a nearby table to use as his shield, but not before grabbing the poor clerk and dragging her behind.

“Leave her go!” Frank barked, pressing the trigger only to fire blanks, “Shit.”

“No way Punisher,” Black said, his voice shaking, “If I’m gonna die today, I wanna at least put up a fight.”

He peered over the table at just the right moment for Frank to lob the empty gun in his direction, smacking him in the forehead. He fell back, but Frank knew it was nowhere near enough to kill him.

That was until he heard a dull thunk. Then another. What the hell?

Grabbing the second pistol from his waistband, he scrambled over to see the bank teller holding the barrel end of the gun he’d thrown. She brought it down again, slamming the base of the magazine against Black’s head. Blood was starting to trickle down the robber’s face, too dazed now to react.

“Asshole!” she screeched, going again but was met with resistance as Frank grabbed her wrist.

“Hey. Hey. It’s okay. I’ll deal with it.”

She gulped, seemingly coming back to her senses, as she let Frank help her to her feet.

“Is everyone safe?” she asked, watching as he crouched over Black.

“All the customers and your co-workers are, yes. These guys…” He sniffed. “Not so much.”

He paused a moment, before reaching into his jacket, holding out a small brown envelope to her.

“I...I came to cash a cheque. I still gotta get some more info outta this jerk, then leave as soon as possible. You mind getting my money?”

“Psh. Gladly.”

She hurried out of the room, leaving Frank to slap Black’s cheek, making sure he was still awake. He startled a tad, still trying to reach for his own gun that had fallen in the fight, but Frank pushed it further out of reach.

“Your buddy told me you know who hired you,” he growled, digging a knee into his stomach, “So talk. Names, anything.”

“I…I don’t have a name.”

Click. The pistol was pressed to his temple. Black whined.

“I mean it! The closest I got was ‘benefactor’. They call me, me and my boys do their shit. Easy as.”

Frank watched his face then grunted. This much was certainly true. “What were you looking for?”

“A necklace or some shit? With a locket on it. I dunno, I assume it was worth a tonne.”

As if reading his mind, Black added, “Drop off location given only when we reported having got it.”

“Hm. Must be pretty valuable to them.”

Frank was certain he could hear sirens in the distance. Hurry up…

“So that’s everything you got for me, huh?”

“Look, Castle, c’mon,” Black said, gripping at his wrist, struggling in vain to pull the gun away from his head, “I could help! Just give me a chance.”

“Think you screwed any chance you had when you took me hostage.”

His brains were splattered across the floor before he could argue any further.

***

“...and onto our main story. Five branches of the Brighter Bank were attacked at various locations around the city today. At exactly two-fourteen this afternoon, groups of masked individuals held up the banks, going through the safety deposit boxes in search of some unknown item.”

Frank sipped his coffee, eyes not moving from the TV in the corner of the cafe. Micro furrowed his brow, slipping a folder into his hand under the table.

“Thankfully, no civilians were injured,” the newscaster continued, the screen splitting to show another reporter, “However, the bodies of four robbers were found at the Brighter Bank located on Jasmine Avenue. With us is Hailey Edwards at the scene.”

The on-location reporter nodded and took over, gesturing at the cordoned off building behind her. “Eyewitness reports from those held at the building today say the deaths were the work of violent vigilante, Frank Castle, also known as The Punisher.”

“Jesus Christ, Frank,” Micro muttered, picking at the fries on his plate, “You ever take a day off?”

“You know I can’t,” Frank said, flicking through the folder on his lap quickly, before slipping it into the backpack he’d brought that sat at his side, ”Thanks again.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Police are currently investigating what could have been taken, and are heightening security around all Brighter Banks starting tomorrow. They urge any and all witnesses to step forward if they have any useful information, and also stress – do not approach the Punisher. Despite the reports of him safely getting all the hostages out today, police wish to remind the public that Castle is a highly dangerous individual.”

“How are things boys?” the waitress asked as she approached the table, pot of coffee in hand.

Frank gave her a warm smile, holding out his mug. “Wonderful as ever, Aggie.”

“Aw, that’s nice.”

She refilled his cup before walking on. Micro sighed a little, leaning forward on the table.

“You get any idea what those hold-ups were about?”

“Not much.” Frank poked at his half-eaten burger, wrinkling his nose. “They were hired by some other force. Searching for some locket, but they didn’t find it there. When I interrogated the guy that was meant to know, he said they only talk on the phone. Never met ‘em face-to-face. Maybe one of those other teams found whatever it was.”

“Jeez.” Micro ran his hand over his hair, glancing back at the TV once more. “It even worth pursuing further?”

“...no. Think it was just an ordinary locket. Hope so, anyway.”

Frank tapped at his backpack, raising a brow. “Bigger fish to fry right now. Wanna put my focus into bringing Broad down.”

“If you say so…”

Micro trailed off a little then smirked, getting that look in his eye that meant Frank immediately knew whatever was next out his mouth would irritate him.

“I still can’t believe you got caught up in a hostage situation.”

Frank grunted, taking a bite of his burger so he didn’t have to answer properly. “Shuddup Micro…”

#trope: hostage situation #badthingshappenbingo #the punisher #marvel fic #undeadbthb

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