[center][sub][h1][img]https://i.postimg.cc/FHxsDqvr/punisher2.png[/img]
[b][color=white] T H E  P U N I S H E R[/color]
[color=black]T H E  P U N I S H E R[/color][/b][/h1][/sub][/center]

It was easy enough to sneak into the shipyard, even with the rifle case strapped to my back. Barbed wire on top of the chain link fence meant no climbing over it so instead I dropped the rifle case, cut a hole in the fence, then squeezed through and pulled the rifle case in after me. A few night guards, not too sure if they were employed by the Saints or not, so I opted to stick to the shadows and avoid them. Getting to the rooftop of the main office building was easy, there was a ladder around back that was easy enough to climb.

Now I'm on the roof overlooking the shipyard. Two black panel vans are parked in front of a warehouse directly across from the office. The lights are on inside, unlike the other warehouses. That's where they'll be coming from. Looking away, I lay the rifle case out before me, opening it up and pulling out the PSG1 I acquired from Greco. I load up a magazine, attach the scope and suppressor, then flick open the bipod and steady the rifle against the lip of the roof.

The world is simpler when it's viewed through a scope. Smaller. There's nothing but the reticle, lining up your shot. Through the scope I watch as a small cargo ship pulls up to the dock and comes to a halt, the gangway lowering as the five- no, [i]six[/i] men on deck begin to carry crates off the ship. The shutter door of the warehouse flies open, six more men stepping out from within. I don't recognize any of them, but I've got to assume the rotund old guy is important; no soldier would be that fat. I set my sights on him.

Inhale.

[b][i]*BLAM!*[/i][/b]

Exhale.

The big man falls to the ground with a nice chunk of his head blown off. The Saints scramble for cover while the guys from the ship drop their crates and pile back onto the boat. One of the Saints peeks his head above cover, trying to find out where the shots are coming from.

Inhale.

[b][i]*BANG!*[/i][/b]

Exhale.

The shot rips out and he falls to the ground, a cloud of blood and brain matter spurting out of his head.

[b]"WHERE THE FUCK IS HE!?"[/b] one of the men shouts.

[b]"HE'S ON ONE OF THE ROOFTOPS!"[/b] another shouts back to him. He pops up and fires a few shots at the roof of one of the warehouses. The wrong one, but he's got the right idea at least. I set my sights on him.

Inhale.

[b][i]*CRACK!*[/i][/b]

I feel a sharp pain as something solid strikes me in the back of the head, making me lose my grip on the rifle. It tips over and falls off of the roof, clattering onto the asphalt. I jump to my feet and whip around, pulling the pistols out of my shoulder holsters. I'm about to fire when I pause at what I see: a man with a white bandana wrapped around his head, holding a tonfa in one hand.

I'd heard rumors on the street of a man like this, stalking the streets of Hell's Kitchen and delivering vigilante justice. The Devil of Hell's Kitchen, they called him. Didn't use guns, didn't kill. Just beat the crooks down. I was hoping I wouldn't run into any of these costumed heroes that have popped up, but here we are I suppose.

I hear the Saints shouting below me, trying to figure out why the shooting stopped. Need to get back to them. Can't take up too much time playing with this guy. [color=black][b]"I'm giving you one chance to back off. These men are [i]mine[/i]."[/b][/color]

[hr][center][sub][h2][b][color=white] I S S U E  # 6[/color]
[color=black]I S S U E  # 6[/color][/b][/h2][/sub]
[sup][h3][b][color=white] R U N N I N G  W I T H  T H E  D E V I L[/color]
[color=black]R U N N I N G  W I T H  T H E  D E V I L[/color][/b][/h3][/sup][sup][h3][b][color=white] P A R T  O N E[/color]
[color=black]P A R T  O N E[/color][/b][/h3][/sup][/center]