The Hellfire Club was silent, save for the Punisher lounging calmly on the sofa...
A bottle of whiskey sat empty on the table, and a cigar box lay open beside it. The Browning pistol rested near his right hand as its owner exhaled a cloud of smoke, savoring the taste of authentic Cuban tobacco.
"You damn rich people," Frank muttered, even as he drank their liquor and smoked their expensive cigars without a hint of guilt.
Wesley pretended not to hear, and was careful not to show any anger. If he provoked the man, he might not live long enough for his boss to arrive.
"Your boss sounded pretty young on the phone," the Punisher remarked, his posture relaxed but his instincts razor-sharp.
If Wesley made even the slightest wrong move, Frank could blow his brains out in under two seconds, "How did he kill Kingpin? A trap? Heavy firepower?"
"Mr. Castle, I truly know very little about my employer," Wesley said with a strained smile, "He prefers to remain hidden, which is why he installed as his proxy to handle his affairs."
The Punisher snorted, "Seems like a cautious bastard."
He didn't press further... his curiosity about Kingpin's killer was just that: curiosity.
Hell's Kitchen had birthed another shadowy figure, one who had not only eliminated Kingpin and Bullseye, but also seamlessly absorbed their empire without a ripple. That alone was enough to intrigue Frank.
Wesley kept his head slightly lowered. In truth, he knew exactly who his young boss was... he simply chose not to reveal it.
Divulging minor details under duress was forgivable, but outright betrayal? That was a death sentence...
The Punisher was terrifying, but his employer was no saint either. Kingpin had ruled Hell's Kitchen with an iron fist, yet he had fallen with shocking ease. Wesley didn't dare entertain thoughts of treachery...
.....
Ti ticked by...
The Punisher's gaze grew colder. He was a man of his word... if Wesley's boss didn't show up within thirty minutes, he'd simply have to find himself a new right-hand man.
Just as the clock's hand neared twelve, the private booth's lights abruptly died and plunged the room into darkness.
The Punisher imdiately snatched up his pistol, his muscular fra rolling over the sofa as he took cover.
Years of combat training had honed his instincts. The fact that this shadowy figure had not only killed Kingpin, but also swallowed his empire whole spoke volus about his cunning.
Frank hadn't expected the man to co alone. He'd already braced himself for an army of gunn and thugs, with an escape route planned in case things turned south.
As a forr Marine, he saw no sha in retreating when outmatched. After all, charging blindly into overwhelming odds wasn't bravery, it was stupidity.
He wasn't so muscle-headed brute. Behind that hulking fra was a mind that remained ice-cold under pressure...
The Hellfire Club was pitch-black, its power seemingly cut. In the suffocating silence, the rhythmic...
*tap-tap*
...of footsteps echoed unnervingly loud.
The private booth's door creaked open.
In the near-total darkness, the Punisher raised his Browning and fired. Muzzle flashes lit up the room as bullets tore through the air.
But the figure at the door moved like a ghost, sidestepping the barrage with preternatural speed. The bullets struck only the doorfra, riddling it with holes.
Frank ejected the empty magazine and drew his tactical knife, crouching low like a predator waiting to strike.
A whip-like kick ca from above.
The Punisher ducked and countered with a vicious upward slash of his blade.
But his opponent was no amateur... he twisted, locking onto Frank's wrist with a grip like steel cable, wrenching the knife from his grasp.
'Strong...'
Frank's arm tingled from the sheer force.
His opponent wasn't built like a tank, yet he had overpowered him effortlessly.
Disard, the Punisher closed the distance instantly, his fist rocketing toward the man's face in a brutal hook. He switched to close-quarters combat, his strikes a relentless storm ant to overwhelm.
However, the intruder matched him blow for blow.
Blocking a punch aid at his ribs, he shifted like flowing water, his defenses unbreakable against Frank's onslaught.
The two combatants beca a blur of motion... no flashy techniques, no wasted movents. Just raw, brutal efficiency.
Still frozen on the sofa, Wesley could only watch in stunned terror...'Are these two even human?!'
"Go down!" The Punisher's roar split the air as he seized an opening.
Like a tiger pouncing, his entire body surged forward, his right arm swinging down like an executioner's axe. The force behind it could shatter stone.
"Your weakness blinds you..." A soft chuckle.
Then–
*Danger*
Frank's instincts scread.
The man before him suddenly 'changed', his presence swelled like a monstrous tide threatening to drown him whole.
Frank's strike landed, but it felt like slamming into steel. The recoil traveled up his arm, and with a sickening...
*Crack!*
... his bones fractured.
Before he could react, his opponent moved.
A shoulder check sent Frank's 200-pound fra hurtling through the air like a cannonball.
*Thud*
He crashed into the wall with a dull thud, the impact driving the breath from his lungs.
*Pah!*
A snap of fingers.
The lights flickered back on in response.
Sean stood amidst the wreckage... shattered tables, splintered wood, and broken glass littering the floor around him.
"Just a few broken bones," he said lightly as he watched the Punisher struggle to rise, "For you, that's practically routine."
The outco of this 'fight' had never been in doubt.
Frank Castle was a forr Marine, a master of combat, survival, and warfare in every form. But he was still human.
Against Sean; whose strength could punch through steel, whose speed could match a car, whose reflexes defied biology.... the Punisher stood no chance.
The only threats left to Sean now were mutants who wielded unnatural powers, Asgardian gods, and the cosmic horrors lurking beyond Earth...
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Read ahead on my P@treon...
[email protected]/MayaMatengele01
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