Chapter Text
All you wanted was peace.
But, of course, Hell's Kitchen was never going to give you that peace without jostling you around a bit first.
Five years of your life you spent running away from what you did. Regret was all you could feel these past years. You regretted how many jobs you took during your youth and how many lives it took to get you the wealth you obsessed over. Back then you never questioned how much it chipped away at your soul; the cost of murdering and abandoning any shred of humanity you had left within you killed every part of yourself that you knew.
Before you completely lost yourself, you escaped, and now you were walking around Hell's Kitchen looking over your shoulder, hoping you'd never see that part of yourself again.
"I'd like a coffee, please," You asked the lady over the counter and simultaneously watched the news broadcast above her head that announced the news about Daredevil, Punisher, and entire buildings falling because of other gangs.
Shaking it off, you handed the lady your money in exchange for your coffee sat at one of the tables to review some of the articles you were sent to edit. A lot of the articles had to do with the recent escalation of violence and Daredevil and Punisher. Most of which by Karen Page.
She was a great writer and you loved working with her because she showed the best sides of Hell's Kitchen-- compassion, love, everything. Karen wrote with such passion, and you respected her for it. You continued to correct any grammatical errors and such whilst sipping your coffee.
"Hey, Karen, I have a couple of papers I need to drop off for you to look at, should I drop it off at your apartment? Or is it still taped off by the police?" You made a quick phone call to Karen before you completed your work for the day.
"Hey! Yeah, my apartment is still roughed up, so you can drop it off at that old firm I used to work at, No one should be there so it shouldn't be too much of a hassle. Thanks!" Karen enthusiastically replied and you thanked her before you ended the call.
You collected my things and left the coffee shop for Nelson & Murdock, the firm she used to work at. You didn't question why the place was closed or why she said no one was there because you already assumed the worst-- a fight or argument, someone must've blown something out of proportion and now the place didn't exist. You didn't know the people who worked there well, just exchanged the casual "Hello" and "Goodbye" whenever you ran into them.
It was early in the evening when you arrived at the firm, so seeing a shadow in the window came much to your surprise.
Opening the doors, you quickly made your way to Karen's small desk at the front and turned so you could leave the firm as fast as possible.
"Hello?" A curious voice came out from behind you and you reluctantly turned around to see a blind man carrying a box full of files in the doorway. It was Matt Murdock, you realized, the other half of the broken law firm you just entered.
He was wearing a ruffled suit and wore his signature opaque, red glasses which slowly slid down his sweaty nose. You never had a real conversation with Matt since he was gone every time you stopped by to drop something off, but he seemed like a good guy at least.
"Hey, it's me, I'm just dropping off some papers for Karen. I'll be out of your hair right now." You greeted and said goodbye to Matt in the same sentence. You couldn't make it more obvious that you wanted to leave.
"Oh, right, yes." He cleared his throat before asking another question. "Is Karen alright, by the way? We've... We haven't talked much the past couple of weeks."
You turned your body to face him instead of the door. "Karen's doing great. If you want to patch things up with her, you should, she's a pretty forgiving person."
It was true, anytime you were late with a paper or did something wrong, she always smiled and let you correct your mistakes without a lecture. Karen had the kindest doe-eyes of Hell's Kitchen, and you couldn't help but question what landed her here in the first place. You knew this probably wasn't equivalent to their situation, but it was something.
Matt scratched his hand and ran his hand down the back of his neck. "Right, I know. Did you need me to walk you home? It's been pretty dangerous around these parts lately." Though you knew you could handle yourself, you accepted because you were still curious about what went down between the three.
"That'd be great, thank you." You replied but realized that Matt wouldn't be much help even if you ran into some trouble and smiled, recognizing how good of a heart Matt had.
As you began walking down the dimly lit sidewalk, you start questioning. "Is everything between you and Karen ok? Everything seemed so abrupt."
Matt sighs as if expecting this already. "It's complicated, we all valued different things, and our interests no longer aligned."
You could sense the sorrow off of Matt and decided not to pry any farther no matter how much you wanted it to. Even though you weren't close to any of them, you hoped they worked it out. Seeing them together occasionally at the firm made sense to you, they laughed and smiled, everything seemed to fit. You were almost jealous of their relationships.
Unlocking the door to your apartment, you set down your keys and coffee before turning on the lights.
A chill flew up your spine and you whirled around and you shouted, "Hello?" Scanning the darkroom and noting that the light switch was across the room, you stood still to assess the situation. "Come out."
Heavy footsteps made their way toward you. "Don't wanna hurt you. I just want information." A gruff voice announced itself, and you squinted to see who it was.
His face stayed hidden but his hands were up and he was wearing dark clothes that helped in masking his presence.
A gun or two and a knife in his boot. He isn't playing around.
"I don't know who you are or what you want, but you need to get out of my apartment right now." Your voice was strong and assertive as you pointed to the door.
"You killed some of Schoonover's men, didn't you?" He asked with a darker tone. All of the alarm bells in your body you walled off over the last few years began blaring as he stepped closer. This was not someone to mess with.
You closed your eyes and swallowed the memories down before you answered. "I... I don't know what you're talking about. You need to leave." You lied, and you made it obvious that you did. The pause, the hesitation, my god it was abysmal.
The lie set him off, as he trudged towards you and backed you against a wall without touching you. "Keep lying and I cut that tongue out." He snarled. "I'm not killing you right now because I know you only killed scumbags. But if you get in the way of me finding out who did this to my family, you're dead."
You could feel the heat and anger come out of him as he closed the distance between you two. That was when you finally got a look at his face.
"Frank Castle." You breathed and your heart began to race. Your alarm bells were right. The Punisher stood before you threatening you and all you could do was freeze.
"Answer." Frank's voice almost reaches a growl as he comes closer to you.
There was no point in lying. He probably looked you up in some records someone had stored away somewhere and found out where you lived. If you didn't answer him now you'd be dead. "Yes, the name sounds familiar." You finally blurted.
Frank took a step back and huffed. "Good. Why'd you kill em'" He fixed the cuff of his jacket and cracked his neck, waiting for an answer.
Furrowing your brows, you tried your hardest to remember. "Just... Stuff about them knowing too much or getting in the way, I can't remember. Whoever hired me for that job was anonymous so I don't have that much information." You hoped that was enough to get him to leave.
"You got an address?"
"No, maybe, I don't remember. It was a while ago and I'm trying to leave all that stuff behind." You reasoned.
Frank huffed again. "I read some of your files. You're meticulous. You're organized. Don't tell me you threw all your files away when I know you didn't." Your heart began to race again as he read you like an open book. Of course, you had the files still. You tried for years to burn them, but flashes of all the "good work" you did stop you.
A part of you knew that the jobs you took, the people you killed, helped bring momentary peace to the city. Those people were bad and at the time, you prided yourself on it.
As much as you denied and ran away from that part of yourself, it always crept up on you when you least expected it. And Frank Castle was not something you expected.
"I don't have the files here. We have to go somewhere to get them." You admitted, much to Frank's relief.
"Get your things then, we're going." Frank already began to open the door and leave before you could reply.
The faster you got him the files the faster you got back to your normal life.
The drive to the storage facility was a quiet one. No music, no traffic, just the streetlights and the squeaky sound the car made as it tried its best to get us to our destination.
The Punisher. The Punisher. You were sitting in a car with a man that killed more people than you knew. He was a one-man army. His skills and resilience were unmatched. He was feared, respected. No one smart messed with him.
"There, to the left." You gave him directions and he silently complied. Getting out of the car, you felt something off.
"Frank, wait--"
A baton flew at you and you quickly stepped to the side to avoid getting hit. The baton ricocheted off the car door and bounced onto the ground where you grabbed it to inspect.
It was red and at the bottom, there was a string attached.
Shit.
"Get out here, Red,"