T H E P U N I S H E R

Frank Castle ♦ Judge, Jury, Executioner ♦ The Bronx ♦ Unaffiliated
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C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:
"Some people would tell you that I'm crazy. They would be wrong. It's not crazy when the state of the world makes you want to kill everyone responsible. It's crazy when it doesn't."
This version of Frank Castle will have a very back to basic origin. His family - a wife, a little boy, and a little girl - all mowed down in front of him while out at Central Park. Frank however would have had NO connection to the killers. No hidden "he was the target secretly" or anything like that. This will keep Frank's horrific and cold worldview in sync: the world is not fair. Criminals in the world must die. The violent men of the world must be fed their own violence back to them threefold.
Undoubtedly violent, potentially sociopathic, chillingly brutal - all descriptions not far off the mark from ol' Frank Castle. A hard as nails man at war with the world, Frank has been active as The Punisher for some time, long enough that the giant white skull that adorns his chest means something to the criminal scum that walk the city, and the old timers who employ the newest wise-guys. Frank Castle has a complicated relationship with the heroes at large in this universe. His extreme methods put him at odds with the various superheroes who cross his path who sometimes find themselves aligned with Frank temporarily, their team unity often cut short due to The Punisher's willingness to kill. It isn't uncommon for someone like Spider-Man to find themselves fighting alongside The Punisher only to attempt to arrest him at an opportune time. Frank however is battle-hardened, paranoid, and quick to make a violent exit.
C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:
I want to bring Punisher into the mix in order to bring a bit more chaos and risk to missions and engagement with the other characters. Having a sort of wild card of perpetual violence and death can make for good dramatic material, and can cause strife among the players. I would not however play an unbeatable unflappable Frank. I am very comfortable with having my character be wrong, beaten, or else look like the foolish one when it comes to interactions with others. With the additional mafia taking a larger role plot-wise, I believe having the Punisher involved would be inevitable in having heroes cross paths.
I'd like this version of The Punisher to be back in his old school black and white spandex: bring that sort of 90's vibe with his look back and make it feel more comic-booky. My favorite Punisher stories are always when he is crossing paths with masked heroes, as the "This is COOL Punisher where he murders everyone and he wears a bullet proof vest only and hates everything and also superheroes are dumb" style of comics are actually my least favorite Punisher stories (sorry Garth Ennis's Punisher MAX run)
I do have this idea of Frank potentially trying to put together his "version" of a superhero team, but what is, in essence, actually more of a Marvel Universe Death Squad. I think it would be fun to have a relationship with Eddie Brock as the lethal protector, potentially trying to recruit Moon Knight to their cause. I could easily see this Punisher trying to push Morbius, Venom and Moon Knight to their darker natures. But does he truly feel a connection to them as broken men? Or are they simply pawns in his war against crime?
C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:
This Frank would have all your standard Punisher attributes you'd come to expect.
Working alongside his closest confidant, the hacker Microchip, Frank has safehouses throughout New York in each of the boroughs, and a mobile command center that Microchip is primarily patrolling in. He specializes in artillery, housing an impressive armory of ballistics and weaponry.
In an effort to distance himself from the dirty copys of the world who worship his insignia, he has taken on his old Punisher costume, believing it will put a further distance between what he does, and what they do.
Punisher War Journal.
October 11th.
Inventory needs work. Armor piercing rounds used to be enough. But now these punks working the Maggia or Kingpin's dime are getting retrofitted with supers tech. Knock-off Starks. Knock-off Iron Men in their little suits. Used to be you could hold a 12-gauge to the chin of one of these guys and he'd sing like a canary. Now they think they've got Scorpion's exoskeleton, can take a shot to the face and still keep ticking. Less than half the time that's true. The rest? Let's say they make Jigsaw look like a magazine's man of the year.
These masks. They spread out their "goodwill" like an infection, trying to teach the world like some kids fairy-tale. The goodness of man. That everyone deep down is trying to do their best to be a good person. Makes me sick. I seen Spider-Man tie shocker up and hang him up from a lamp post with a cute little cardboard sign, after Shocker blasted a busy street full of cars, a sedan crushing grandma's spine like a piece of chalk. Try and tell me that we've got to "do better." Now their super suits and super weapons are getting adopted by these assholes who used to swing around knives and bike chains. Had to put down a guy trying to rob a woman with what looked like one of Moon Knight's crescents.
This is me doing better.
I don't need to be out there every night, looking for trouble. It's everywhere. All I have to do is sniff it out. Micro keeps me in the loop. Thieves? They are small fry. Dregs of society, maybe - but small fry. I need to Punish those beyond them. Those who are creating the systems keeping these people in place. The American Dream. Yet we have these fat cats running the show. And I see these masks out there protecting them. What is this? What are they even doing out there? They tell me I'm crazy. That I need help. Only help I need is gunpowder. Gasoline. I need one of those super suits myself, or to get bit by a radioactive bull and tear through the heart of this sick city with horns the size of the Chrysler building.
Instead I'll just keep waging this war. Seek out the people that are committing these injustices and show them the face of god. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise, I am the Devil here in this city. I don't need a red suit and a thorough reading of the bible to prove it. You think because Red spends his time in a confessional or waking up to hold his rosary's that he knows more about prayer than I do? What do you think the last words are of the scum I wipe off my boot? I've heard more prayers than any god-fearing man has before, and it's my favorite song to hear. I play that shit on repeat. Deliver us this, forgive us that. They see me coming, it's death. It's their just desserts. I reap what they've sown.
Tonight I hit the docks in Red Hook. I got good intel that a deal is going down, some local gang been selling a new inhalant to school kids in some sort of primitive snorkeling mask. Always coming up with some stupid new way to get high. The information I got is good - all it took was subtracting several digits from some sticky fingered p.o.s to find out more. I've laced up the old suit - the white gloves, the white utility belt - I'm faster, lighter than I would covered in the body armor. It feels liberating, freeing. Like I'm ten years younger.
Tonight Punishment is handed out in a flash of gunfire. The thunder in my hands quakes more than Thor's little hammer. Let this white death be enough to save even one person from a future filled with addiction. I've seen it poison a whole bloodline. Now I cut that cancer out. No quips, no photo in the Daily Bugle. What I'll leave won't be publishable in good conscience.