RUSTY | frank castle

TWENTY FOUR

"There's nothing more that I hate as much as a goddamn bomb."

Rusty looked away from the video, sighing. Her arms were crossed and Fender and Lexi were sitting heel at her legs, watching the video. "I know, Frank." She whispered as she stood beside him in front of the TV. "I remember."

"Goddamn cowards." Frank said. He looked at Rusty, exposing a sort of sorrow to her. She'd been through several bombings herself. Let's just say it isn't pleasant. 

"They think they're gonna scare people into thinking they are all powerful, all knowing. They think they're god-like. Powerful. Invisible." Rusty was speaking from experience. 

Rusty uncrossed her arms, walking around a little. "They think they can get what they want. But they're always wrong." 

Frank spoke. "It just pisses people off, you know, brings them together, makes them stronger." He shook his head. "New York doesn't forget."

"Whoever this motherfucker is, they're in for a world of shit."

"That is a lot of swearing." David mumbled from his seat at the desk. He spoke up now. "You know, if they bring Madani into work, we might get our chance."

Rusty scoffed. "The whole city's got its eyes wide open. The last fucking thing we wanna do is go after a Homeland agent."

David sighed. "What do you wanna do? Nothing?"

"It's really fucking better than doing something stupid."

Frank looked at Rusty, a little worried. He knew when it came to her dictionary, a load of swearing meant she was pissed. Really pissed. Nobody likes an angry Rusty. Even the dogs know. They were cuddled up next to each other on the bed, staying out of the situation.

  •••  

"We must not tolerate those who use violence to communicate. This man is not a patriot. He's a coward, a terrorist." Frank quoted the newspaper. 

"Someone's gotten themselves on that guy's number one hit-list. Congrats, Karen." Rusty commented, taking a bite out of her apple. 

Frank was leaning on the workshop desk, looking at the newspaper. "Jesus Christ, Karen. Why you goin' after him like this?"

David had something in his mouth, so his speech was muffled. "Well, we're about to find out."

"What are you talking about?"

"Girlfriend's on the radio." David fumbled with the tech in his hands, examining all the wires. 

Rusty smirked. "Ooh, you picked yourself a famous one, poster boy."

Frank pushed Rusty's shoulder for her annoying comments. She knew full-well that Karen was simply a friend. He had explained it to her already. 

"Turn that up."

Rusty sighed. "Fill me in later, I'm gonna take the dogs for a walk."

Frank frowned, but nodded as Rusty threw a jumper over her head and called for the dogs as she walked out of the garage. The dogs followed her happily, needing to stretch their legs and get some fresh air. Rusty, too.

Frank and David sat down and listened to the radio show.

    •••    

With the sun hidden by a few clouds splattered on the sky, Rusty was walking down the street, her dogs in front of her with their tails gently wagging. 

It was hard for them to chew on the fact that they had stumbled upon a bomber again. Yet, this time, it wasn't back there. This time, the bomber was in New York, where thousands of innocent people were at risk. And that just angered Rusty more. 

Balancing on the edge of the pavement, Rusty looked out in front of her. She saw people walking around, some coming home from work, a parent and child, a jogger, a few cyclists on the road followed by a few cars. It was so . . . normal.

And Rusty wasn't someone who could really deal with normal. 

Standing at a zebra crossing, her dogs sat in front of the road out of habit. Rusty taught them both road safety such as this at a very young age, and they remembered it. 

'Smart dogs, those two.' Rusty thought.

The three crossed the road, then walking under the bridge while a train passed overhead. The clunking of the tracks against the metal wheels echoing below the tracks. Then, the cafe came to sight. 

The middle-aged brunette waitress saw the trio approaching and sighed, remembering how every single customer gave Rusty weird looks the last time she had come with her dogs. 

Lexi and Fender entered the building after Rusty held the door open for them, the smell of frying oil and coffee swatting at their noses. The waitress came up to Rusty, quickly saying, "Last table's free."

"Actually," Rusty spoke, "can I order a coffee to go?"

The lady pursed her lips, looking away from Rusty's dogs. "Sure, hun. It'll be a minute."

"Thanks."

She went behind the counter and started making the coffee. "Black?"

"Uh, with cold milk, please." Rusty said, taking out a few crumpled dollars from her pocket and putting them on the counter. 

Fender sniffed the air as Lexi sat down, scratching her ear with her hind leg. Both of them were close to Rusty, knowing well that in public spaces they should stay together. People always complained to Rusty about keeping her 'dangerous' dogs on a leash, or with a muzzle on. Eh, fuck them. 

Rusty's phone buzzed in her pocket, so she took it out. There was no called ID so it was probably one of the two calling from the garage. She swiped to answer the call. 

"Yeah?"

"Rusty, where are you." It was Frank. 

"Why?"

"So I can pick you up."

"Why?"

"Stop with the 'why'." Frank sighed. He sounded stressed. "I know who the bomber is."

Rusty's breath stopped for a half second. She mumbled something incoherent. She looked up, seeing the waitress finishing off her coffee. Act normal. "I'm at a cafe. I'll meet you under the train bridge."

"Okay."

Rusty ended the call, looking down at her dogs. They knew something was up, their eyes were full of enthusiasm. Well, they loved their work.

Rusty took the coffee from the brunette and left the shop, her dogs at both legs. "Time to work, guys."