Summary:Betty meets her contacts to make a payment when The Punisher intervenes. Log Info:Storyteller: NA |
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Hell's Kitchen had cleaned up well. Though, as most things that look beautiful with a fresh coat of paint, there were still cracks that could be seen, especially by those looking for them. It would go as it always had: she gets a call, a location, she shows up and no one gets hurt. Usually. It's always at night, because why wouldn't it be, but Brant is always punctual. The woman paces, heels slicking as she waits casually by the mouth of an alley. She plays on her phone, glances up now and then, she could honestly be waiting for a taxi given her posture and stance.
A crunch of metal and a roll of a can passes her red pumps as she glances over her shoulder and toward the darkness. "Ms. Brant, step into our office." A voice calls. Swallowing, a glance about later, the dirty-blonde slips her phone away and sighs, turning and entering the passage.
Frank Castle. The Punisher. The Grim Reaper. The Devil's Emissary.
It was supposedly a day off. the day was quiet, the night even more so. One may even argue that Frank didn't have anyone to kill at the moment. He walks through teh streets, wearing clothing intended to cover anything that may be underneath. Like a shit-ton of weapons or a bowie knife or some grenades or…
you get the picture.
But Frank manages to catch Betty in his sights, and where she seems to have gone into that alley. Frank only lightly approaches one of the walls, seeing what he could evesdrop.
"On time like always, Ms. Brant. We've very appreciative for this, you know."
"Mmm, I'm sure. Here, take your stuff and I'll be on my way." Brant murmurs, the rustling sound of her digging something out of her purse can be heard. Paper crumples, an envelope perhaps?
"Now, now, Ms. Brant. No need to be testy. We've been doing business for years. You'd think by then we'd warm up to each other." Chuckles can be heard, the man whoever the woman was working with wasn't alone. Three, four, perhaps?
"I…don't think so. Here, just take it." She sighs, her tone apathetic by this point. The paper ruffles for a moment, the men murmur. "Excuse me, but this is a bit short."
"Excuse me? It's all there."
"Oh, you didn't get the memo, did you? Price has gone up."
"How much more do I have to pay you assholes, anyway? How many years has it been now? Almost fifteen years?" The woman stresses.
"We don't care how long it's been, your family owes, and you're paying. You know what happens if you don't."
"Oh really? Why don't you inform me what happens if hte lady doesn't pay." Frank speaks up, his voice gravelly and serious, a look of zero fear on his face. He kills chumps like these for a protein shake before actually getting the workout.
Currently, his thick trench coat covers the vest with the white skull on his chest. But Frank keeps his hands in his pockets, which happen to have some rather lovely revolvers nice and loaded and ready to be unleashed against these clowns.
"So, either you walk away, or..well, you don't want to know."
"Always a tough guy…" One of the men mutters, rolling his eyes toward his men behind him. Handing the package back for safe keeping, he eyes Betty and raises a finger toward her. "It's gone up, Brant. 20 percent. You have a week to get the rest." The woman steps back, turning toward the random man in black who entered the scene. "Mister, please. Don't worry about it, ok? No reason in getting hurt over my business." She offers a smile Frank's way, somber as it was, hands up and trying to lead him out of the alley way.
The men linger, waiting and watching Frank attentively. "She's right, y'know? Our business is with her, but we're not against ruining some idiot's night for sticking his nose in where it doesn't belong. Listen to the lady, chump. Live another day."
Frank actually looks like he's…smiling? Is he crazy or something. "Intelligence, happiness, joy…these are just a kick in the balls waiting to happen. You guys are just a couple of first rate thugs, children in the game. Walk away, or never walk again." Frank's eyes are now greatly cold, and out of his pockets he draws his revolvers, fully loaded, and as he does so?
The coat opens up. Revealing the White Skull motif.
Criminals have always been a superstitious bunch. It may strike terror right into their very souls. "You have your money. Walk or die. Your choice."
The goons aren't the only ones who's eyes grow and jaws go slack. They saw the Skull and they knew. Betty saw the Skull and slunk back against the wall. She was getting out of the way, hands up and covering her ears. She braces for the noise, but she doesn't run away.
The goons have a few things to think about at that moment. Live or die. Walk or never walk again. To begin with, he was just some other guy, but with the reveal, they now knew the threats were not just threats. They were hellishly real promises. A couple growl at the idea of it, perhaps they'd be that one person to take down the Punisher. Even so, they finally start retreating.
"One week, Brant." She has her warning and the group of four turn to leave.
Frank Castle keeps his hands on his guns, watching the crooks walk away. While tempted to literally light up the group with their backs turned, Frank waits for them to completely leave before he holsters them. His eyes are the eyes of a pure-blooded killer. Yet the Punisher doesn't strike at the innocent.
He punishes the guilty.
"You alright, lady?" Frank turns to look at her, seeing if she was in shock or had any bruises on her…group of men vs one woman with, judging from her clothes, little to no combat experience? Yikes.
Don't need to know math to solve that equation.
There were no guns fired. The silence of the situation causes her to open one eye and peek out at the space between the men. Blinking, lashes fluttering, she lowers her hands and ceases deafening herself. "Hmm?" She asks, in some form of shock but perhaps not out of fear or pain. "Betty," she murmurs and nods. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. They didn't hurt me or anything."
Shivering, she brushes down her jacket and offers him her hand. "Thank you for that. I-really, you didn't have to do that." A pause, she smiles weakly. "They'll be back. I-I can handle them."
Frank just looks at Betty, naturally intimidating as he is, he's actually not trying to scare the poor girl. He looks at the hand that she offers him and he looks at it for a moment. "Frank." is all he says. The Punisher's identity was public knowledge. Any hope of Castle having a normal life is pretty much shot. But he does shake her hand lightly and firmly, before releasing it just as fast.
"No, you probably can't. Especially since they have numbers on their side." He pulls out one of his revolvers and hands it to her. "You know how to use one of these?"
"Frank." She nods, her voice taking on a soothing tone. She shakes and releases, not allowing it to linger a moment longer. There's an ease about her next to him, she knew of him, about him, and perhaps because of that she wasn't intimidated. Humbled, perhaps. Eyeing the gun, she shakes her head. "Ah, no, I don't. I do self-defense but I've never really used guns before." Licking her lips, she bites at the lower of the pair, considering the weapon and looking back in Frank's direction. "I can't hurt them." She starts. "I…can't. This isn't just about me. I have to do this to protect someone I love."
Frank looks at Betty and he nods. He still offers her the gun. "THey'll hurt you without a second thought. Even the game, and they won't take the dare. You're important to them because you're their bank. Show that you mean business, and they won't treat you like a bug." He still offers her the gun. "Yeah, well..you're one bad day from becoming me. and I wish I had one of these when it happened. Don't want it, suit yourself."
"I…have conviction, Mr. Castle, but I don't know if I could ever have the same drive as you do." She smiles gently. "That's…not an insult." The woman clarifies. Considering the gun, just lingering there in the air, in his palm, she reaches for it. Trembling fingers, each tipped ruby, grip around the piece and pulls it away, barrel down. "I don't know how to use this but I'm thankful for the offer." Jaw tight, she settles her gaze on his features. "How do you stop being someone's bank when you've been that way for over a decade? The hurt us, and they followed us here." Swallowing, she lowers her eyes. "I don't want to be the reason my mom dies…"
Almost no one has the same drive or equal drive as Frank Castle. But he understands what she means. He watches as she takes the gun, his hand returning to his pockets as she's at least competent enough with a weapon to keep the barrel pointed down. "You either pay your debt…or you buy the bank." there's a lot of meanings for 'buy the bank' in Frank's case. I mean, Frank would probably just kill all the crooks that's holding a gun to a relative's head. Saves sooo much time.But, in this case… "You gotta make that decision for yourself. More than likely, they're just using your mom as leverage to make sure your one of their sources of income. They likely don't intend to stop draining you of your cash." He turns on his heel, already starting to walk off. "Have a good night, Betty. Keep that gun loaded." because a loaded purse keeps the crooks away.
"I know I've paid the debt off." She murmurs, the truth of the matter not being something she needed to hear as it was apparent to her. She simply nods. Glancing at the gun, she looks toward Frank's back and takes a step forward. "Wait," she calls gently. "Let me thank you somehow. Dinner? A drink? I know what you do, and you're good at your job, Mr. Castle, but you didn't have to step into this alley tonight. You don't get thanked enough." She concludes, looking at the gun and peering at it, trying to find the safety before hiding it away. "If you have time during your crusade, maybe you can teach me how to use this thing…"
Frank pauses in his step as Betty stops him, a breath escaping his lips in a slow exhale. "I don't do it for appreciation or 'thank you'. Thats for politicians and people who wear capes." Though Frank was hungry, he didn't deny he was thirsty. "….there's a warehouse on 172nd and Kelvin. Meet me there out front. I'll show you how to use it so you don't shoot your own foot. If your hungry after that, we'll go eat something."
"I figured…doesn't mean you don't deserve it, though." Betty smiles, walking closer but coming up short. "172nd and Kelvin. I'l be there, Mr. Castle. Thank you so much." Pausing, she then lifts a finger. "Um, should I bring some food with me? What's your favorite dish?" Realizing her questioning, she shakes her head and waves it off. "Sorry, I'll be there." A pause, she speaks once more. "Be safe out there, Mr. Castle."