RUSTY | frank castle

EIGHTEEN

"I think maybe I just missed too much." David said. He sounded sad.

"Come on." Frank replied. "You didn't miss shit and you know it. You've been watching the whole time on those cameras of yours."

"You know about that?"

Frank just looked at him, not saying anything.

"I must admit," Rusty said, her voice a little husky as she just woke up, "it does feel a little stalker-ish."

Frank chuckled a little, shaking his head. "Not helping, Rusty."

"What? I'm just speaking my heart."

"Yeah?" Frank replied, smirking. He doesn't do it often, though. "Maybe you've got too much heart."

Rusty laughed lightly, mumbling a "Maybe."

A silence overcame the van, only the crunch of thin sheets of snow under the tires. Frank spoke up. "Look . . . David, you do what you want, but if I were you, I would not let your wife find out. She's liable to cut your nuts off."

Rusty smiled, adjusting the position of her head on Fender's back and crossing her legs. She was sprawled out on the floor of the van, using Fender as her pillow (who really didn't care at all). Lexi had her head on Rusty's stomach, sleeping without a care in the world.

"I know you're worried, but just walk in . . . hug each one of them and don't let them go. Not till they beg you to stop." Frank said, his voice calm but serious. "That's what I would do."

The light feel of the van turned . . . sad. Rusty thought of her nonexistent family, who had once been Frank's family. Frank thought of his children, his beautiful wife. They were gone. Both of their families gone. Rusty had never felt the love of a parent, and her brother . . . she never thought of him, simply because she felt like his death was her fault. She was young, and she couldn't have done much . . . but she still felt guilty. 

"Sorry." David said.

"Come on." Frank muttered. "Don't be. Not your fault."

Frank had said sorry when he found out what happened to Rusty's family, and she had replied the same exact thing: "Come on. Don't be, because it's not your fault."

  •••  

It was night again, and the dogs weren't very happy about being stuck in a van for over 24 hours. Rusty threatened David that if he didn't stop the van through the forest they were driving to, she would shoot all his tech, so the dogs had a fifteen-minute pee break to stretch their legs (and to pee, of course) before they were on their way again. 

Rusty was still in the back, now wrapping up Lexi's leg, which hadn't gotten any better on its own. The lot were parked outside a large house - maybe mansion. 

"It's a CIA safe house." Lieberman said. 

"Bennett must have ran to Baldie." Rusty assumed. 

Frank put the ski mask on his head, but not over his face. 

"Happy hunting." David bid him.

Frank got out of the van and slid open the side door to see Rusty sitting there, a large firearm in her hand. She was so good with weapons. Not only with using them, but with caring for them too. 

"Don't get yourself hurt, Frank." Rusty said as she assembled the rifle Frank was about to use. It was a typical sniper rifle; good aim, thorough reload. It was proper movie-style and all - black, as well. "I don't want to be pulling another metal object out of your shoulder."

"I won't." Frank looked at her. "But promise me you'll stay in the van."

Rusty looked at him, and said, "I promise." She passed him the gun and put a hand on his shoulder, making eye contact. "Seriously," she whispered, "watch out."

Frank nodded. "When have I not, ma'am?"

"A lot of fucking times, mister."

Frank smiled, but closed the door after ruffling Lexi's ears when she perked up at the sound of a gun being handled. Fender, though, was still snoring lightly; he only opened an eye.

Frank, as stealthy as usual, he had managed to get the perfect distance between the house and the van, giving him a clear shot and enough time to run back if things go south (or tits up, as Rusty says). He was laying on his stomach, his eye to the night scope as he searched for his target. Frank's elbows and legs were getting a little damp due to the snow he was laying on. 

He looked through each window, seeing that most of the rooms had their lights on. He went slowly from one window, to another. Floor to floor, room to room. He turned back to what looked like the lounge, and saw a man in a dark suit reading a file he held. Frank exhaled. It was Orange. 

He seemed to get a call. Orange answered it, his face unreadable as he said, "Yeah?"

"Its done."

William Rawlins didn't even end the call. He just took the phone away from his ear, walking back slowly to the window. Frank had his index finger on the trigger, running his skin across the cold metal. 

"One batch . . ."

Rusty heard it in her comm which Frank had given her. The Lieberman didn't have one. She uncrossed her arms, putting a finger to the comm in her ear. She barely heard Frank as his voice was a private whisper.

Orange walked closer to the large window. 

"Two batch . . ." 

Frank aimed the gun at Rawlins's head. Dead-centre.

Rusty mouthed Frank's words. ". . . Penny and dime."

Bang!

. . . No shatter of glass.

No thump of a body. 

Something was wrong. 

"Frank?" He heard Rusty's worried voice through the comms. 

Lights flashed on like a scare and an alarm was blaring so loud Rusty could barely hold back her jump. Dogs started barking in the distance and Lexi and Fender were suddenly wide awake. 

"Frank, get back to the van, now!" Rusty shouted. 

Frank frowned, more indignant than before. 

"Frank!" 

He grunted as he jumped up, getting the gun and sprinting back to the van. Rusty threw open the door, shouting over the alarm for David to start up the engine. Frank jumped into the van as David pressed the pedal to the floor and they fled the scene.

Rusty slammed the door closed as the safe house passed, William Rawlins still inside, alive and breathing with hands on his hips.