Jaws of Death

Chapter 31

Frank Castle was on full alert. He could hear even the slightest footstep movement. Slowly he inched between the crates, careful enough to make sure no one could spot his movements. Whenever possible, he tried to take aim. But he could rarely get a clear shot.

His arm was bothering him. With the effects of Morphine completely worn off, the pain returned in full measure. He could barely hold his gun in the injured hand. Even very little movement he could give his arm pained him.

Gritting his teeth, Frank sneaked behind a different set of crates. He spotted a man patrolling this aisle.

Without hesitating, he pulled the trigger.

The sound of gunfire echoed around the room and the man's back was riddled with bullets. Instantly, Frank knew he was in danger. The sound of gunfire was sure to give away his location. He dashed out of the set of crates and noticed another guy staring right at him. He pulled the trigger again and ran, not waiting to look at the guy who was dead before he hit the ground.

Four men remain, including Billy.

He was running past a stack of crates when he tripped over one of them. With only one hand to break the fall, it was no use. He collapsed right on the floor, with a heck of a lot of sound. At once he heard footsteps rushing in his direction. Thinking furiously, he grabbed the gun which had fallen out of his grip. He crawled toward the gun, grabbed it and did the only thing he thought he could do.

As soon as footsteps appeared around the corner, Frank Castle aimed his gun at the lights above and shot them down.

The room was mostly enveloped in the darkness. The only sources of light were the moonlight that danced in from a side window and the fire from the burning door at the entrance of the warehouse.

Frank slowly backed away from his place, trying not to make a sound. He was moving mostly based on memory. His attention to detail, which he had learned from his military days, was helping him. He gingerly stood up, analysing the room. His ears perked up as it heard voices. The men were agitated at the sudden darkness. They had tried to find him in the spot where they had heard the noise but couldn't. He heard Billy's voice, but couldn't make out the words.

They were coming from the left direction. At his 10 o' clock!

He tried to peek a view but he couldn't see much in the darkness. But something from his memory sprung up.

If he remembered right, there was a "flammable" crate at that corner of the room!

He had to take the risk.

Pointing his gun in the general direction, blinking in the darkness, he fired a round.

There was no reaction. What the fuck did I just do?!

Desperately, he slowly tilted the gun and fired again. No reaction. He fired again.

To his relief, a big explosion echoed from the side of his gunfire and he heard screams. The room was suddenly lit up in the fire that sparkled and danced in the place where the crate was a moment before. Frank peeked a view and noticed three men lying on the ground, thrashing about in agony at their burned body.

One more remains! He didn't know if he had gotten to Billy or not.

He perked his ears up, trying to hear his movements.

He heard it, somewhere closer behind him. "Turn around Frank!"

Frank Castle turned around.

Billy Russo was standing there, the jigsaw mask covering his face, wearing a shirt and jeans and his hand was holding a gun. A semi-automatic revolver, pointed right at Frank's heart. He looked like a guy who was dressed for a party but ended up in a battlefield. Frank looked at his nemesis's legs. He was barefoot. That was how he had sneaked up on him from behind.

As if in reply to his look, Billy nodded and replied. "A page out of your book, old friend!"

Frank tried to pull the trigger but there was just an empty click. He was out of ammo!

Fuck!

"Put the gun down, Frankie! Yes, even the one strapped to your back." Billy commanded. Frank dropped the gun down, pulled the other gun from behind his back and dropped it on the floor.

"Knives!" He bellowed.

Frank dropped the knives on the floor too. They were still red with blood.

Billy watched Frank and holding the gun sharply, he removed his mask off. Beneath it was a face he barely recognised. A once handsome face, it looked like torn pieces of fabric sewn together. The scar lines zigzagged all over his face and even beneath his jaw. Brown eyes stared at Frank with unfathomable fury.

"You gave me a gift, Frank." Billy thundered, pointing at the scar-lines. "You gave me a different identity. I went from just Billy Russo to 'The Jigsaw', the crime lord of New York City. Now I don't think it is apt to dispose of a man of such honour with just a bullet in his heart. For everything you have done to me, that would just pale in comparison.

"How about you and I fight each other, man to man, for old times' sake. Huh? Fight to the finish? How about I take my time, enjoy myself and tear you, limb to limb?!"

He smiled, revealing crooked teeth.