"to burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves."
- Federico García Lorca
Staying out of trouble is not Frank Castle's strong suit. But is Jenavieve Howlett more trouble than The Punisher can handle...
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"boy, you come roaring like a bat out of hell, you drive me so reckless, you'll kill us all." - 60 Feet Tall, The Dead Weather
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"You alright, ma'am?" Frank's low voice fills the silent bathroom as he watches me.
The third man picks himself up off the floor, glaring at Frank. He reaches into his jacket and starts to pull out a gun. Frank looks him, shifting his weight a little, but mostly seems unbothered.
"Eddie!" the woman yells. "No shots."
Eddie leaves his gun and adjusts his jacket, still glaring at Frank. "Nobody mentioned a guy with her." he grumbles.
"I'm not with anyone, I don't know him." I breathe out hastily. "Sir, please just leave. This doesn't concern you." I beg and Frank's eyes are back on mine.
And with one look I can tell, he isn't going anywhere.
Damn it, Frank.
Eddie and the woman both turn to him, drawing their knives, and I watch Frank analyse my three assailants.
No..
Frank calmly removes his belt and steps towards us, wrapping it around his arm for protection.
Please just go, Frank..
"Dumbass." the woman snickers. "You're so far over your head that you can't even see the light."
Please!
Frank squares himself, looking down his nose at her. "Is that right?" he comments, far from intimidated.
The woman makes the first move, lunging for him with her knife. Frank deflects the hit, grabbing her arm and flinging her into the far wall, turning just in time to block Eddie's oncoming assault.
Frank proceeds to fight the pair off, simultaneously.
He's fantastic..
I watch him in awe, until he cops a few hits to the face and my anger starts to boil. And when I see blood drip from his nose and mouth, the switch is flipped. Any hesitations I had about fighting back are flown right out the window.
Filled with rage, I pull my eyes from Frank to the man with the knife at my throat.
I deflect his blade and punch him hard in the face and the stomach, before pinning him up against the toilet door. Grabbing his hand that still clings to the knife, I twist and stab his blade into his chest. He lets go of the handgrip and I hammer at it, piercing the blade deeper through him and into the wood behind.
Now pinned to the door, I glare into his eyes as I swing and punch him hard in the face, knocking him out.
Panting with exertion, my eyes widen at the man before me and his weakening heartbeat, slightly horrified by what I've just done and how easy it was.
