The skies were clouded with the mass hysteria of war.
Soldiers from every side of precision tactics were in reverance as they flooded the warren foreboding grounds,artillery in hand as combat came head to head with the Military. Missiles whistling through the smoke-clad ambiance as it plowed trenches and everywhere else in between.
Francis Castiglione,Italian descent and born hell raiser,thought best to leave the studious preisthood behind him.. He was far too unforgiving and violent to actually succumb to a life of a road to hell that's paved with good intentions. Having served and fought in Vietnam,Afghanistan and Lord knew where else. Frank even undergoing a name change to serve all over again. Coming back as a decorated soldier,proud and prompous. Slightly narcissistic as it were,the more battles he'd fought,the more diabolical his mind set was.
Bravery,compassion,understanding,knowledge and courage were some benefactors in Castle's messy chaotic life. But these values were lost,now. Without even realizing through one...Covert affair. A brush betwixt the Marine Corps and the CIA had led Lieutenant Castle and his team to cover up for an Agent Orange that had him undergoing a hitman for hire but not in the way being hired would suggest. It was an obligation instead of a contract where hefty amounts of money were involved. There was no dough for being commissioned. No thank you for aiming the gun to fire at will once Orange stipulated for him to shoot. There was none of that. Nothing. The chalk outline of an innocuous man who had no ties to any government other than that he was a police officer with a family that Castle put down,himself. Fuck sake's.
The region of atmosphere peppered from bombings and gunfire that desecrated the once cerulean hues to now be dulled from the art of war. Archaic methods of madness slowly driving soldiers to teeter on the brink of sanity whilst they witnessed Castle pumped from adrenaline. The blood coursing through his veins as he was cursed with this brutality. The fear he had instilled in opposing troopers as the Afghans fought relentlessly,only to bequeath Castle's merciless macabre. The animosity that filled the ambiance with brooding force of nature that is Frank Castle,as he gutted servicemen until he witnessed their souls depart from their bodies. He was a force to be reckoned with and then some. And the crossfires if his line of sight was deadly. If he shot-he shot to kill and that was the end of the story.
Having taken down over thirty men once he barrelled out of the trenches. Helmet swung off as his ominous presence took over. His tone foreboding as the yells echoed throughout the withering army as each and every soldier he'd murdered for his country to stain his skin with crimson the harder and further he fought. Frankie boy was a fucking beast. And anyone who met him,could atest to that much.
The cries and wails of combat that seemed to desecrate the earth with limbs and coagulated metallic rush as the original plan of action in fact held true. Only by one man. Frank fucking Castle.
Standing there by the rescue copter,grinning like a mad man from ear to ear as his team staggered,beaten and broken toward the Lieutenant.
His team were saved. The longest war to ever be fought,and he'd served eight exciting years out of sixteen. The night ended up with his troops,convulsing,himself vomiting shards of his fucking pelvis it felt like; as his hands twitched from the onslaught of shattered silence. Agent Orange had decided to grace the troubled soldiers with his pencil pushing capitalist dupe bullshit once again.
"Did you get the target?" His voice wombles only slightly as the ringing of popped ears beckoned to perk up. His men peering up at the CIA agent as dread flooded their stomachs. Was he for real? Castle wasted no time. Blood dripping from his lips as he charged toward the suit-clad man,his fist barrelling through his face and nearly popping the man's eye out.
Lieutenant Russo coming to pull Castle off in order to calm him down some, as Castle bent at the knee's. The unlikeliest of news as he heard the recoiled words emit from his friends mouth. Transferred.
It would only be a matter of time until he finally reached home with his wife and kids. Not soon enough,however. The best times of his life was met on the battlefield. An awful epiphany to come to the revelation with that he'd rather be firing his guns or stabbing an opposing serviceman than spend time with his children.
Let's fast forward this love story a tad,shall we?
Home.
Or so he once believed. They had time to spend now that he was back and safe in the loving and welcoming arms of his wife and kids. Poor Maria had waited far too long to be with him and all he could think about was the first time he'd seen her pretty face. And recalling quirky moments and sweet moments and..Well.. He's a man. Obvious moments. His wedding day. The lead up to when they were dating and she confessed to him about the new found pregnancy and he'd asked her to marry him that day. Love,was a beautiful thing. And he'd been lucky enough to share that with Maria.
It was shortlived,his home coming. Having spent the picnic at Central Park,being caught in the crossfires of a man being hung over a deal with the Costa family. There was no witnesses. None other than the one bastard that would wake up in the hospital to learn his wife and children were gunned down. A man that would learn to come to terms with having something perfect and losing it less than a week later. A man like Frank Castle is doomed to live his life without happiness,it felt. He had reoccurring nightmares of that hellish scene. Constantly playing on repeat in his cerebellum no matter how hard it was to go on living. Reaching across the bed where his wife would've laid,only to wake up and remember she was taken from him.
He had no indication that his life would spiral into a whirlwind conspiracy from the CIA over the situation in Afghanistan. He felt it was his doing-his fault. He may as well have pulled the trigger on his family for the information he had,let alone to get stuck in a drug deal that went bad. His life was no devoid of color,food was tasteless and fun didn't exist. However the storm brewing in Castle'sCastiglione's head was about to erupt as the anger fornicated into another mass destruction all caused by the Punisher.
A few bad guys show up dead and no one would be the wiser,since his life was considered a deserter. His quest for justice went unquenched. Blood thirsty animal he had become as vengeance crawled under his skin like a parasite. Pure rage festering.
Castle was obsessed.
Incarcerated,escaped prison,and was back onto his war path. The innocuous help of an insider informant named Leiberman. A spook that referenced Castle once upon a time as Blunt Instrument and despite Frankie's initial reaction to the scrawny nerd...He was right. With that man's help he was able to avenge his family and weed out the man behind the complexities that arose. None other than Billy Russo.
Pfft. Man oh man. Did Frankie boy ever called that out wrong. It was of no consequence. The way Castle had been feeling lately,he was about to give Russo his 'just desserts',soon enough. That pretty face would be a shredded memory of what his vanity used to take pride in.
It all led to the unfortunate event that had Russo and Agent Orange finding Castle's whereabouts. Punisher was readied. Armed and happy to battle once again. His precision tactics-his skills. Were easily unmatched by Homeland Security as Castle took them out,guns a blazing. Shots zipping through the abandoned warehouse. Silent but deadly as he stalked along the steel clad steps,focused and steady. His insignia imprinted proudly on his bullet proof vest that kept his already broad body intact and harder to kill,despite the excruciating taint it took on with ease. You get used to pain,the pain is always there,the pain always comes back. Pain felt like nothing to Castle anymore. He was devoid of mortality when he was back on the war path.
And then it lands him in a chair,bound as the CIA agent,tortured him which felt like forever. His face stained with blood as he spits out a tooth. Hearing the tiny bone land with a clatter along the concrete floor. Leather fist,relentlessly coming from every and all angles as Castle took on the punishment for whatever crime he apparently had in store for himself. What was it again? Oh right. Almost leaving Orange half blind. He forgot about that briefly. Maybe from too many knocks to the head.
All the man could think about was his wife. Sweet moments,quirky moments. And the obvious moments. His wedding being the last before he felt her slender fingers aligning his nimble digits. "Let's go home." Maria,purrs. Her tone calm as the balmy breeze as he stalls.
That strange euphoric haze that clouded his muddled mind as he thought about what he wanted and needed. But the answer was so simple. Frank was fading in and out. Russo witnessing his once best friend as he opted to slow down the process even for a little. Placing the sharpened tool in Castle's palm as he steadily and quietly cut the binds that tied. The rope unraveling into a heap behind the seat as Agent Orange jabbed his heart with an adrenaline shot to prolong the torment. A sharp inhale of breath,gulping for air as his tawny darkened orbs flashed open.
It would be Orange's biggest mistake taking so fucking long to kill a man who loved war above anything else. "Home." he numbles as red plasma pools around his bottom lip. Billy remaining above and beyond as he watched Castle at work. Punching Orange's skull and coagulating blood into the cold,hard concrete as he delve his thumbs into Orange's sockets. The man withering away from shock as Castle finally got his revenge.
Frankie boy was home. He came into this world,kicking,screaming and covered in blood,and he'd happily go out the same way. This is Castle's love story.
The Punisher.
Happy DoomsDay. <3
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