Don't Fall Down ( Open!)

[Frank Castle]

Forget what the News papers tell you about New York. About increased police presence, lowest crime rate in decades, forget about masked guardian angels swinging from webs and super-powered freelance police. Just because Hell's Kitchen has been renamed Clinton and the Bronx get's a new building project dosen't mean it's any different. The old New York is waiting just below the surface, peer deep enough and you'll see it. The monsters hiding in Central Park, The gibbering shades of men skulking amoung crack dens and drug labs.

With his head turned down Frank walked through the streets at a slow, measured pace. through the streets. His mind on the task ahead. Apparently his hit on the Docks hadn't stemed the flow of X-juice into the city. Someone had told him about a flop-house used by some low key gang to peddle drugs to clients. Normally it would be a low priority target but recent news changed that.

Last night a pair of police officers were killed in the line of duty. They're last report concerned a local kid. Small time thief, hooked on a concealed weapon charge once. The officers in question tried to arrest him.

Turning off the streets and into the dark alleys lit only by the occasional light over a doorway the Punisher marched down a path often tread by junkies, dealers and other scum. A large abandoned office building ahead seemed to be his target, the single doorman outside seemed far more interested in fumbling for a smoke than the approaching vigilante.

The skinny, hundred and ten pound kid tore them to pieces. Reinforcements arrived after a distress call from an onlooker. They shot the kid twelve times. He died six hours later in Hospital not from the bullet wounds but from how badly the stuff he was hyped up on had burned out his system. He was seventeen years old.

The thug in the hooded jacket peered up from his light and eased his coat back to show the hilt of his pistol. The smoke in his lips dropping to the rain-damp tar. " You lost buddy? Take a hike." As Frank reached him the thug extended a hand to Frank's shoulder to stop him. It was the last conscious action of his life. Frank barely moved, his open hand snapped up, ramming the heel of his palm right under the mans nose. A sick crunch sounded out as bloow fountained from the ruined feature. The skin that had once been stretched thin around the nose hung loose like an empty sock, the thug's eyes rolled back in his socket as a sick, sucking, snuffling sound emittied from him. He dropped to the floor without a sound. Stooping |Frank drew the pistol from the thugs belt and took his keys, unlocking the door to the boarded up den he stepped inside, the stale waft of wet floorboards hitting him instantly.

Don't fall down in New York, No one will catch you.

[Butterfly Kai]

Kai was in the alleys, selling some of her, ahem, suspiciously acwuired merchandise on the black market. Most of the people she sold to were crackheads or other addicts, buying from her to sell again. The difference between her and them was that she made a profit, since she didn't pay for what she sold. The only thing these low lifes got was a temporary high.
Kai was counting the money she got from selling a gold watch as she heard a sickening sound. She peered around the corner curiously as someone disappeared into a building. There was a man with a horridly broken nose cowering near the door, and everyone else seemed to be making themselves scarce. Kai shoved the money deep into her black bag and went toward the man with the broken nose. He was too busy writhing in pain to notice that she took his wallet before continuing stealthily toward the door.
Instinct told Kai that she was going toward danger, and the twitching of her rabbit Aki only confirmed this. But Kai is a very curious little girl, and so far, she was making a profit on this danger trail.

[Frank Castle]

Last punch was a little off target. Goblin hit me harder than I guessed.

Indeed with one eye swollen shut Frank found things a little bit more difficult then unusual. With his depth perception gone any sort of fire fight would be twice as difficult. However, the usual type of street scum weren't too good an aim so that should balance it out.

The entrance of the den was just a large, spacious basement containing the buildings heating system and a pair of massive boilers. A pair of men were playing cards by the boilers. The largest of the pair saw Frank and the cards went tumbling from his hands. His friend glanced over his shoulder and came face to face with the Death Head symbol on Frank's chest. Both men without hestiation threw their hands up in the air, cigerettes falling from wide open mouth's. " We surrender!" One shouted, eyes wide.

"I'm sure you do." Frank murmered even as the gun bucked in his hands. The larger man dropped to the floor, part of his head missing and oozing greasy gore onto the dusty floor. The other threw his hands up to his face to protect himself. That 45.'s polished barrel came to rest just before his face. " You look like you have somthing to tell me." Frank commented, pulling back the hammer on his pistol with his thumb. The thug gave a shrill shriek. "I don't know nothin' man, Talk to Suicide, He's up on the top floor."

Only ever have to hurt the dumb ones. The smart ones start talking right away.

Fran's gun bucked once more, the round tearing first through the thugs hand then digging a tunnel between his eyes and out the back of his head.

For all the good it does them

The body collapsed into the table they had been playing cards on. It collapsed under the sudden increase of weight on it's wooden legs and money flew across the floor. Bundles of twenty dollar bills that had been the ante for entering. Beer spilled into the floor, mingling with thick blood.

Funny, Don't hear too many hurried movements upstairs. The shots should have brought them running. Locals must be used to gunfire.

Picking over the bodies Frank eased towards the stairs. The iron railing was pitted with rust and the wooden door ahead hung on thehinges. Someone had written gang slogans on a the wall going up.

Latin Kings, 6th Street Soldiers, Irish Mob, I'm spoiled for choice. Should be quite a few scumbag in here. Suits me fine, Fewer wasted bullets.

That little...sixth sense of Frank's kicking in and he felt eyes on his back. Wheeling Frank dopped to one knee, his weapon aimed directly at the door, eye scanning the darkness for any sign of movement.

[Butterfly Kai]

Two gunshots. There had been two men in there. That meant two more wallets ad probably a pair of watches. Kai smirked slightly. Following this guy was a good idea. The more people he killed, the more money she got.
She waited for a moment, counting the time it would take him to go up the stairs, then she cautiously pushed the door open, peeking her head inside, but froze.
He hadn't gone up the stairs. He was waiting for her. Kai stared at him, too afraid to move in or out of the room.
"I just wanted their money...." Kai muttered, her eyes fixated on the weapon.

[Patrick Mulligan]

Patrick glided across the wet, glossy pavement, his footsteps producing quiet swooshing noises as he kicked through the occasional puddle, the interiors of his shoes gradually becoming more and more damp as he pressed onward. He could feel his toes soaking up all of the liquid, slowly pruning with every drop that they absorbed, and at the moment, Patrick wanted nothing more than to be at home in his large, cushioned recliner with his tired feet comfortably propped up high. Unfortunately, a number of reasons, namely his job, curiosity, and moral obligations, kept Pat and such a reality separated. He heard gunshots. Or so he thought he did – part of him believed that the noises were mere thunderclaps belonging to the distant storm. Either way, Patrick felt it was his duty as both a cop and a person to investigate the matter, so he trudged further along.

It occurred to the young officer that he was currently off-duty and would technically be unable make an arrest, if in fact he was headed to the source of gunfire. On top of that, Patrick had never had to deal with anyone carrying firearms, and he quickly reached an understanding of just how unprepared he might actually be.

Unprepared? A voice in his head scoffed at the idea. I doubt it. How long do you plan on writing parking tickets for pompous office rats? You know all that is below you. This right here is what you've been aching for. Thrills; excitement. Patrick shook his head clear of all distractions. He wanted to blame the parasitic creature with whom he now shared a body and mind for feeding him such arrogant notions, but in truth, Patrick wasn't so sure that they weren't his own.

As Patrick closed in on the source of the noises, he passed a body, lying motionless on the concrete with a crimson river of blood flowing from his two deformed nostrils. Patrick checked the body for some form of ID, but it contained nothing, not even a wallet. At a more cautious pace, he continued toward his objective, arriving shortly thereafter to find a girl who appeared to be conducting her own investigation. From a safe and discreet location, Patrick observed as she opened the door to some sort of abandoned establishment. He considered calling out to the girl to get her attention, but for all Patrick knew, she could've been the one with the gun, the one who mutilated the face on the lifeless body he had encountered moments earlier. Instead, he simply watched, eagerly waiting for anything to happen.

(OOC: Hello there. Hope you don't mind if I join)

[Frank Castle]

( By all means jump right in buddy. )

It took his eyes a while to adjust to looking back into the gloom. He eventually picked out the shape, thin and short, as timid as a door mouse. The pair of watches already gripped in her hands and what looked like a scruffy pet with her. She whispered somthing, an excuse, a plea? She was picking the dead clean of valubles. A theif and a petty creature.

She should be dead by now but this question keepins bugging me. Keeps freezing my finger when I try to pull the trigger. When it comes to what I do, how young is too young?

As if to try and enforce his will Frank took hold of the pistol two handed and shifted into a more balanced firing position, willing his finger to depress on the trigger. Urging it to grant him that split second of thunder and lighting, that familer jerk of the round exploding from the barrel. Every muzzel flash was one more monster, gone.

There was the eleven year old kid in Arkansas. The one with the twin forty fives and the necklace of human fingers. I didn't do him any favors, but anyone he would have met might thank me.

Frank took another deep breath and tried again, his finger tight on the trigger, an inch more and she'd be another corpse in the street. That's all it took. One more urge of effort, one more push. One more body to the count.

Daddy!

The high pitched squeel burst into his thoughts unbidden, echoing as it faded into the nothing from which it had burst. For a moment an image superimposed itself over Frank's image. Central Park, a tiny body with a face frozen in horrer, stiff with rigor mortis, like a tiny doll. If this memory of days gone past effected the killer he gave no outward sign for his features remained in the stern scowl. Frank's pistol lowered. His gaze locked on her still for a few minutes more. "The police will be here soon." was his rather lame conclusion.

Just as Frank spoke the door at the top of the stairs snapped open. Frank wheeled sharply only for somthing to punch into his shoulder and half spin him. The second shot punched into the drywall above his head. Frank put two in the hoodie wearing shooters chest and with a scream of pain the thug tumbled down the stairs to lie broken at the foot. Pain flooded him and he used it to gauge his wounds. The kevlar had stopped the bullet from penetrating, but it had bruised, perhaps even cracked the bone.

Still more to do, wasted too much time.

[Butterfly Kai]

He didn't shoot her. In fact, he seemed to want to, but Kai saw it in his eyes. It was because she was a young girl. No one wanted to shoot a helpless little girl. It made sense. Of course, Kai felt that while she usually hated being mistaken for weak and useless, she was thankful that it had stopped her from dying.
He turned around and got shot, then killed his shooter. Kai was frozen for a moment. He had spared her life. Was it right to take his stuff? As she pondered this, Kai grabbed the wallets from the dead people, and scooped up the money from the floor. She knew that more would be coming down soon. So she bit her bottom lip. She wasn't dead. She couldn't let that go. She bent down and looked at him carefully.
"Hey, are you alive?" She asked quietly, discreetly slipping his watch off. If she made sure he was okay, everything would be even and she would feel clean to take his watch.... and anyother stuff that might get her a profit....

[Patrick Mulligan]

What was she doing? All Patrick could make out from his dark hiding spot was the shadowy silhouette of the girl, standing frozen in the doorway. Only a few seconds passed, enough that they could probably be tallied on a single hand, but from Pat’s perspective, those mere seconds seemed to drag on at a lazy, mind-numbingly slow pace. He bit his bottom lip and his foot tapped impatiently, serving as the only visible evidence of the swell of anxiety that surged just beneath his surface; for the most part, the young cop managed to keep a steady composure.

A third sharp crack echoed from within the building and fractured the nighttime calm, and was immediately succeeded by a fourth, a fifth, and then a sixth. Patrick shuddered until the series of rapid gunshots concluded, and watched helplessly as the girl finally stepped inside, right into the midst of the entire mess. Patrick’s instinct told him to stay put and call for backup, the seemingly appropriate course of action for any cop in his current situation, but from somewhere deeper within, at the very core of his being, some other stronger force told him - no, drove him - to continue into the building and personally confront whatever it was that had managed to stimulate his curiosity. And so his legs automatically carried him along producing a soft whistle as the fabric of his wind-suit pants rubbed together. When Patrick reached the building, he crouched against the exterior wall, just outside the open door.

The training at the academy hadn’t prepared him for this, and for good reason too, seeing as cops weren’t supposed to be doing what Patrick was now. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t gain full control of himself; Toxin wouldn’t allow it. The next moment, Patrick’s body pushed off of the wall and, with one step, pivoted through the doorway into the interior of the building where he could see the girl in plain sight, crouching over what seemed to be one of many dead bodies. She was much younger than he had expected, maybe even younger than he was.

Patrick reached for his badge in the waistband of his pants. Just freeze and put your hands where I can see them. The words fell short of escaping his lips and he was left with a jaw hanging wide open, his startled eyes jumping from one corpse to another.

[Frank Castle]

This is where things get hard. Had to make a lot of noise going in. Less innocents to be caught in the crossfire. Believe it or not, some people still live in these places.

Frank counted off the heartbeats, waiting for some other armed, desperate fool to make for those stairs.


That was the problem with the junkies and losers who invested these rat holes. No shortage of desperate people with no life and nothing to lose ready to die in a heart beat or...so they thought. Most of the scumbags remember somthing worth living for in the first ten seconds of a gun fight, but for those ten seconds...when they're running straight at me, screaming their lungs out. I have to admit, I kind ofl ike it when they do that. Whizzing bullets, Mad mans screams. All I'd need would be jungle heat and the constant mell of gasoline and I'd be back home.

When nothing happened Frank took the time to pull back the slide and hand feed bullets into the gun untill it was full again, letting the slide snap back with an audible click. The girl he hadn't shot down asked if he was still alive. It felt like an odd question, He hadn't been alive for fifteen years. "Mhmm." Frank murmered, putting his booted foot on the step and just happened to glace over his shoulder to check if the girl had started running yet. He saw she was still there, he saw somthing else too. A young man had joined them and was staring jaw slack at the corpses which had piled on the floor. He wasn't armed at first glance, and hif he was a gunner he'd have pulled a piece by now. They always did.

Frank shrugged off the notion of possible danger and merely rumbled. " Stay here untill the police arrive." Before turning and marching up the stairs, his pistol held out infront of him. He had an uneasy feeling, that veterans sense a man develops when he lives through things he shouldn't have time and time again by luck, or by the whim of some fickle God.]

[Butterfly Kai]

Kai rolled her eyes. Stay until the police arrive? Yeah, and get arrested! Kai might not be a killer, but she was definitely a very accomplished theif, and that could be found out by a simple pat-down. Not even a strip search, not that she'd let that happen....
Kai glanced at the new guy. Hm, he looked pretty good with money. And was that a Rollex on his wrist? Well, it wouldn't be there long, if Kai had anything to say about it. She glanced back at the not dead guy. She smirked at having retreived his wallet. But then she frowned. He had blown her off. People are all the same.
"Hey," Kai said, stepping after him. "What are you doing here anyway? I've been around for quite a while. I know how these places work. And I'll help you, if you want.... It'll probably be a lot safer if you let me help you." Kai left out the part about helping him for a price.

[Patrick Mulligan]

Patrick still stood with his face fixed in a baffled manner, his mind trying to piece together the situation that lay bare before him, trying to make sense of all the gory confusion. In a moment, Patrick felt as though he had been stripped of all the qualities that he thought, as cop, he should have possessed – fearlessness, levelheadedness, heroism. Now, he was little more than any poor schmuck, in over his head in some perilous dilemma. The body that the girl had an apparent interest in gathered itself rather modestly, apparently unaffected by the gunshot wound dripping from its shoulder. Like a programmed machine, the man continued on with whatever task he sought to complete, resolute in his determination to do so. A part of Patrick envied that.

Pull yourself together you coward! You wanted to see this, and now here you are completely petrified by the sight of a few dead bodies. What were you expecting to find, a celebration in your honor along with a promotion and a key to the city? Yeah right.

The all too familiar voice in the back of Pat's head taunted him, as it normally did, this time succeeding in its attempt to kindle some sort of motivation within the young man. Patrick approached the girl and spoke in quiet, firm voice, “What's your name?” He pointed to the man walking up the stairs and raised his voice, to garner his attention, as if chiding a kid for some embarrassing mistake. “And you,” Pat said, “you need to go to the hospital.”

[Frank Castle]

The floorboards above creaked as someone walked about, Frank heard a door shut and then someone sit on a creaky bed. Had tonights gunfight been expected or was it just so common an occurance that when things got rough all the locals not looking for trouble just retired to bed? If that was the case fewer innocents to get caught in the crossfire, Frank's mind flicked over the two apparent civillians who were causing him slight problems. The male was trying to take control of the situation. Probably used to it, didn't look ex-military so Frank guessed either a doctor, a paramedic or a coach of some sort. Baseball probably. " Minor gunshot wound, Take me four hours to bleed to death. Two days to die from poison in the blood." Frank rumbled, after all it seemed like plenty of time.

When Kai spoke up it caught his attention. " You know these scumbags." After all by the look of things she was a thief and an oppertunist and no doubt a fairly generous fence dwelled within the building.

My first reaction is to kill her, but then the other guy would jump in. He's probably up to no good hanging around here, but he hasn't done anything wrong. He gets to live.

" Suit yourself." Frank resigned at last, Nodding his head up the stairs. " Take point. The second shooting starts, hit the ground and put your hands over your head. " Urging her towards the stairs Frank shot the baseball coach a look. "The police will be here soon." As if that was supposed to ease hsis suspicions. Anyway, Frank waited for Kai to move ahead and then followed behind, keeping close enough to make sure she didn't do anything stupid like try and switch sides or worse...try to be a hero.

[Butterfly Kai]

Kai frowned. This hadn't been what she had in mind. But then she thought for a moment, looking down at Aki in her bag. If she got hurt, she could blame him and get more cash out of him. Yeah, this would all work out just fine.
Kai led the big soldierish guy up the stairs. She really had no idea where to go, but he didn't need to know that. And judging by his past actions, even though he was having her lead, he wouldn't let her get hurt. He told her to hit the floor if there were shots fired. Kai had been through this kind of stuff before. She glanced around. No windows available. She couldn't fly away if she needed to.
"Who exactly are you looking for?" Kai asked, needing to know in order to lead him in the right direction.

[Patrick Mulligan]

With every second that he remained in this place with this odd pair of vigilantes, Patrick's gut instinct nagged at him evermore, his conscience screaming that he should get out now and leave this to the trigger happy duo and the rest of the police force, which must surely be on its way by now. Unfortunately, the strength of Toxin's own desires were far too great and overwhelming for Patrick to completely repress, and the symbiote somehow kept him planted exactly where he stood, watching with great interest as the man and the girl continued up the stairs.

Before Patrick was entirely aware of it, he had reached for a free handgun lying with a lifeless body at the bottom of the stairs, and followed after the other two strangers, falling in line just behind the large stubborn fellow. “So be it. Someone like you obviously doesn't require medical attention.” As Patrick spoke, he offered a quick display of his ability to twirl a gun on his finger, like a cowboy from an old spaghetti western. “But, until the cops arrive, which, judging by the weather and traffic conditions, could take somewhere north of five minutes, I'm sure an extra gun would be useful.” Patrick gestured to himself, slowly and unwillingly adopting the symbiote's current need for danger and violence. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep Toxin from emerging

[Frank Castle]

When I decided to come here I wasn't expecting to be leading a deatchment of neighborhood watch. These two weekend warriors are more trouble than the extra help is worth but I don't have time to argue my point. I'll be lucky if the head scumbag hasn't already skipped town.

The man helped himself to a firearm and decided he wanted to help out. Once again Frank felt the uneasy twinge that he knew more than he let on. For instance, being able to so accuratly guess the arrival of the first responce police vehicles was a bad sign. It indicated he was one of two things, cop or criminal. Things were becoming overly complicated. " Suit yourself." Frank said for what felt like the tenth time.

The woman spoke up and Frank had that gut feeling tell him she knew a little too much about this place for his liking. Still, having a local guide wouldn't be a bad idea even if the risk of her getting shot did niggle at the back of his mind. " Some punk called suicide. Probably some young guy with a little more ambition and balls than his fellow cockroaches.He'll have a place somwhere on the top floor.

They always do.

The upstairs floor was nothing more than a wide open space filled with a few run down couches pointed towards a massive, out of place and no doubt stolen tv. The thudding and pounding of the movie playing across the screen had obviously covered the sound of gunshots and two men sat on the couch, slugging beers.

Frank kicked in the door at the top of the stairs, the hinges snapped and the door collapsed inwards. The Punisher swept ahead of Kai, eyes scanning the room. " Hey! Keep it down back there. I'm tryin' to watch this movie." One of the men shouted over his shoulder without taking the eyes of the screen. Holstering his pistol Frank slowly, carefully drew the large, darkened steel Ka-bar knife from his boot. The blade gleamed silver in the glow from the television. Frank turned to his small rag-tag band of crimefighters and made a seperate gestures with his hand. To Kai his command was simple, his palm lashing down towards the floor a few times. He wanted her to take cover. His message to Patrick was much less...wholesome. He pointed to his eyes, then to the thug sitting on the rright hand side of the couch, then he placed a finger to his lips, indicating for silence, and drew that same finger across his throat in a slitting motion. With that done the crazed viglante turned back to the goal at hand and began creeping towards the other man, his footsteps light, the blade in his hands glinting like death's rictus grin.