The Punisher: War Journal

Chapter 1: Creation by Destruction

I have come to love writing flash fiction stories( I go with a 1000 word format for my flash fiction) since I ran up on them a few months ago, and now I'm really loving taking and putting a new spin on some of my favorite comic book heros. With this one I wanted to do something different with the Punisher and so I've given the task of cleaning up the underworld to a young female detective. The overall aspect is similar to Frank Castle's tale but its new and I believe its a fresh start for the storyline. This is just for entertainment purposes because I have not obtained permission from Marvel for the use of their character... but this and the cover which I created as well were both fun to do...

Enjoy!

“Castille!” the sound of his voice bellowing hung in the tight quarters of the room like a bell ringing at Notre Dame. “You and Miller get your asses in here… Now!”

All eyes turned towards the two people who had just entered the squad room with a nasty, little man collared between them. Miller quickly dropped his head shaking it causing the loose locks of his dirty blonde hair to bounce back and forth. He pointed to one of the uniformed cops who quickly ran up to him grabbing the prisoner from his hands. Not stopping his forward progress, Miller pulled off his coat and tossed it at his desk as he headed in the direction of their angry Captain.

Castille stopped at her desk and shuffled through a few notes left there before removing the long, black trench coat she was wearing. This she noticed always got the attention of everyone in the room. As she draped her coat over the back of her chair, everyone took notice of the shoulder harness holding the twin Glocks, but that wasn’t all; a huge, snub nosed .45 magnum was holstered in the small of her back, and another was holstered at her hip. She was a walking arsenal and that was only the weapons that people could see. What always amazed her was that the weapons would get noticed long before her shapely body. She pushed her long, raven-black hair behind her ears and made her way to the captain’s office.

“Take his ass to the box,” calling over her shoulder to the office holding on to her prisoner, “I’ll get to him in a minute. And… don’t let anyone in there with him.”

“”Gotcha, Detective,” the young cop pushed the man before him.

“Close that door,” Captain Fuller was a stout man standing behind his desk rubbing his hands over his balding head. His dark eyes moved from one to the next as they stood there waiting for him to begin his ranting.

“Do either of you want to tell me… What the Hell is GOING ON?”

Miller jumped as the captain slammed his hands on his desk and he took a tentative step backwards. He’d only been on the squad for a few weeks, a new detective fresh out of training and he’d been placed with Francine Castille as his first partner. He could still recall how everyone in the room seemed to either smirk and laugh or shake their heads as he was given his assignment with her, and a few people even walked up and patted his back. It seemed that almost every day they were subjected to one of these talking to, and quite frankly… he was tired of them.

“We’re getting close, Captain,” Castille explained.

“Close to what?” he sat in chair and reached into his desk pulling out a bottle of whiskey pouring it into his coffee cup. “You know what you’re close to, huh? Getting your asses kicked outta here and into the unemployment line. I'm tired, Castille, I have the Brass biting on my freakin’ ass like I’m the prized pig at a bacon cook-off.”

“Look, Cap, Manzenelli is running scared and I'm getting close. This asshole that…”

The argument was always the same; another new person to interrogate; another new lead; another dead end. Castille was barking up the wrong tree today as her captain laid down his final ultimatum, and not allowing her to respond.

“You have one week, Castille,” he pointed his finger, “one, and if you don’t get something substantial … I'm closing out this goddamn case. Now get outta my office.”

                                              ****

“You have a good day, Mommy?”

“Oh, I wish, Kiddo,” Castille grabbed her eight year old son and gave him a big hug as he met her at the door. The smells of spaghetti met her as she stepped into her home and she walked through to see her husband bent over the counter chopping away at some onions and bell peppers. This was what made her day, coming home to her loving family and forgetting all about the nonsense she’d been through during her day.

“Hey you,” he kissed her as she stepped up beside him, “can you run out to the car and see if I left a can of tomatoes out there please.”

“Not a problem, Handsome,” she grinned.

Whistling a tune she couldn’t get out of her head, she rummaged through the trunk until she found the large can of tomatoes. Shaking her head and grinning she walked up the sidewalk to the door with thoughts of enjoying her husband’s homemade sauce and her mouth watered.

“Hey, Barry,” she called out as she opened the door, “I found…” Faintly, she heard a beeping.

The world erupted into a loud, ear-splitting roar followed by an unbearable blast of fire and heat that pushed her through the door she’d just closed and throwing her across the lawn. Her home exploded into a storm of splintered wood and stone raining down in chunks all around covering her in debris. Her lungs felt as if they’d burst in her chest as tried to scream out because her body was covered in burning clothes. She could hear nothing nor see anything as she felt her body being covered to douse the flames.

“Easy, easy,” the muffled sound of a voice as she was being held down. “Help is on the way. Please, don’t move.”

                                          ****

As she cracked eyes, the lights hurt and she moaned out. Somewhere she could hear a beeping sound, and she wanted to run… but her body wouldn’t move. She slowly turned her head trying to look around. She began coughing as the smell of smoke and dust filled her nose.

“Easy,” a voice came from the shadows.

“Nurse, she’s waking up!”

“Francine? How do you feel?”

“Where’s my family,” she whispered. “Where are my husband and my… son?”

“Take it easy,” Miller said grabbing her hand. “Everything’s going to be alright.”

“Where’s Bruce?”