C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A LT H E P U N I S H E R
"This isn't revenge. This is punishment."
F A N G C H U ♦ P O L I C E O F F I C E R ♦ N E W Y O R K C I T Y , N E W Y O R K
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One minute, you have it all. The next it comes crashing down.
The boy that would be known as Frank Castle grew up as Fang Chu, the only son of first generation Chinese immigrants who moved to New York City in the mid 90s. He grew up hard and fast, forced to contend with street crimes all around him and an abusive father who drove his mother to suicide. The day he turned 18, he packed his bags and moved out. He changed his name to Frank Castle in order to distance himself from his past and got a job as a bus boy to support himself, while attending community college in the hopes of acquiring the credits he needed to become a police officer.
Frank joined the police force at the age of 21, rising up the ranks and making detective at the age of 25. It was during his early years on the force that he met Maria Falconio, whom he began to date and later married after she became pregnant with their children, twins Lisa and Frank Jr. Two months ago, Frank had his biggest bust yet: taking down a drug ring run by the Saint crime family. The heir to the Saints, Bobby Saint, was killed in the raid on their operations. Things were going well for the Castles.
A month ago, the Castles' apartment in the Bronx was broken into. No valuables were taken, but Maria, Lisa, and Frank Jr. were killed. Frank took a bullet to the chest and fell into a coma.
Last week, Frank woke up.
Tonight, he has a low level mob associate tied up in a warehouse on the Jersey side.
The cemetery was silent as the three caskets were lowered into the ground.
Then it was over. Time to leave.
Maria's mother was crying too hard to look me in the eye.
Dave gave me a hug and told me that I knew where to find him if I needed anything.
Captain Stacy didn't say a word as he placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed, before walking away.
I got into my car and started to drive.
My first stop was a pawn shop in the Bronx. The proprietor of the pawn shop, Emil Greco, was one of many associates of the Saint family. The shop was a front for a gunrunning operation. I watched and waited until there were no customers in the store. It took about twenty minutes until finally, it was just Greco. I grabbed my service pistol and walked out of the car.
The bell above the door dinged and Greco looked my way. "Good afternoon sir, we're getting ready to close up, but what can I..." he trailed off, noticing the gun in my hand. I leveled it at his head and moved around the counter, pressing it against his skull. "What the hell is this? You trying to rob me?"
"Yeah. Show me what you've got in the back."
His eyes went wide. "T-there's nothing back there, everything is out fro-" I whip him in the face with the pistol and he shouts in pain. "FUCK!"
"Show me what's in the back." I give him a sharp poke to the ribs with the barrel of the gun and he springs into action, leading me to the basement of the pawn shop. Guns and ordinance line the walls of the room and there are dozens of crates filled with even more: pistols, SMGs, shotguns, rifles, Goddamn grenade launchers. It was enough to supply a militia.
Or a one man army.
"Thanks." I slam the butt of my handgun into Greco's temple and he collapses into a heap on the floor.
Fifteen minutes later and I'm leaving the pawn shop with duffel bags full of guns and ammo stuffed into my trunk. Forty minutes later and I'm on the Jersey side, an abandoned warehouse in Hoboken, dropping off the ordinance. Ten more minutes, I'm outside of a night club run by the Saint family, waiting for one Nicky Francesco. He was a made man, tough guy, liked to beat on women and shoot men in the back of the head before they knew what was going on. We'd been trying to make a case on the guy for years.
Now I didn't need to make one.
He's about to get into his car when I strike, pulling a plastic bag over his head and slowly suffocating him. He tries to scream, he tries to hit, and eventually he's just trying to keep breathing. After that, he's limp in my arms. I drag him to my car and throw him in the back seat, slapping a pair of handcuffs on him just in case he wakes up early.
I drive him back to the warehouse. I tie him to a chair below a dim lamp hanging from the ceiling. I pull up a chair and take a seat in front of him.
And then I wait.
1x Laugh
