VENDETTA

Part I

By Tobias Christopher

“Go long, Dad!”

Frank Castle Jr., or David since he liked going by his middle name, held the football in his hands. His father Frank looked over at his wife Maria, who was watching while not involved in the book she was reading. His daughter Lisa was sitting next to Maria, playing with a doll while wearing her new sundress. David tossed the ball as his father caught it. Frank smiled as he tossed the ball back, but David fell to the ground before he could catch it, scraping his arm on the pavement of the basketball court he’d run onto.

“Are you alright?” Frank asked as David sat up and realized his arm was bleeding.

“Yeah,” David replied as Frank looked at the boy. He knew his son was holding back the pain. His boy wasn’t one to cry, always trying to be a man in front of his father.

“There’s some iodine and Band-Aids in the car,” Maria said as she came over and looked at the wound.

“I’ll get them,” Frank said as he looked at the cut. It wasn’t too bad, but he didn’t want to risk infection. David was only 8 years old, but had a very powerful throwing arm. Frank was going to make sure his son was ready for football when he started high school in a few years.

David picked up the football and started tossing it into the air, trying to ignore the pain in his arm. He tossed the ball through the air, and went to catch it, when it fell into some bushes. David ran in to get it when he stumbled upon a group of men, standing around a beaten and bloodied man with a gun to his head. Before David could react, a bullet pierced the man’s head, sending blood and chunks of skull flying to the grass.

That’s when the men saw David standing there, with the football in his hand.

Frank headed toward the car to get the supplies. He dug through the trunk when he heard the sounds of rampant gunfire and screaming.

Not even taking the time to think, Frank lifted the secret compartment and pulled out a gun he kept for emergencies. He rushed back and saw his wife and children laying on the ground.

“No,” Frank said as he rushed toward them. Maria was face down, covering Lisa’s body, and David was on his back with his eyes wide open. “Please, God, no.”

Frank put his hand under David’s head to raise him up, and felt something wet under it. He pulled his hand out and saw his hand was drenched in a sticky red subtance. That’s when he saw the same red substance coming from his wife and daughter..

There was an intense rage building inside of Frank as he saw his family’s murderers, standing with their guns drawn. They couldn’t leave any witnesses to their hit.The men saw Frank cradling his lifeless son’s body in his arms and knew what had to be done.

They turned their guns on him and fired…

“Hit me.”

The four men sat around the table in the old warehouse. To the outside world it was abandoned, but to them it housed their drug ring. These men were only in their early twenties, but together they were responsible for the deaths of 27 teenagers this year alone with their drug ring.

“Shame about your little brother,” Kyle, a former football player said as he laid his cards on the table. He had a dark complexion and was pretty well built. “Kid was my best customer.”

“Yeah, well, there’s plenty more kids at that school,” Darren, Kyle’s best friend, replied as he showed his hand. The man was smaller, but looked to be pretty strong himself. “I’ve got two more bastard brothers somewhere, what’s the loss of one?”

“I’m gettin’ hungry,” Aaron, who was knew to the ring, said as he put his cards down. He had curly hair and a dark tan. “Where’s the damn pizza boy?”

“One more minute and it’s free,” Fabian, the leader of the ring, said as he counted down the time. The man looked to be the strongest of the four, with a faded haircut and a dark complexion.

A knock soon came at the door as Kyle opened it. A teenage boy was standing there with a stack of three pizzas. Kyle took the pizzas, and saw a potential new customer. He left a small vile of dust in the boy’s hand as a tip.

“What’s this?” the boy asked.

“Your future,” Kyle laughed as he slammed the door in the boy’s face. The other men laughed as Kyle carried the pizzas to the table. “Stupid fuckin’ kids. So easy to get hooked.”

Kyle opened the pizza box before he could set them down and saw that the pizza toppings were arranged in the shape of a skull. One of the eyes was blinking, the plunger on the blinking detanator having been released when the box was opened.

“Oh, fu-”

The detanator exploded, taking the man with it, sending a combination of blood, body parts and pizza flying everywhere, knocking the other men to the ground, overturning the table. Fabian fell backward to the ground and landed at a pair of black boots. He looked up at a pair of black pants, long black trenchcoat, and t-shirt, with a faded white skull on the chest.The man had three-day-old stubble, dark black hair and blue, almost lifeless eyes.

Frank Castle had a .45 caliber in his hand, pointed at Fabian’s head. One click of the trigger and the man fell back to the ground, instantly dying from his wound.

“It’s him,” Aaron silently whispered as the remaining two men instantly reached for their guns and began firing. Frank rolled behind some crates and fired back as the two men looked around for an exit. They continued firing as Frank saw an opportunity open. He fired a shot at the corner of the wall behind the men, ricocheting it, hitting Aaron in the back of his skull, causing him to fall forward onto the table.

Darren rushed toward a staircase and continued firing behind him as Frank followed, giving chase to the roof. Darren looked around for a way down, backing toward the edge of the roof. He saw Frank walk through the door, and fired, but found his gun was out of bullets. He tossed the gun at Frank in a lame attempt to take him down. The gun landed at Frank’s feet, who simply stepped over it.

“Don’t kill me, man!” Darren pleaded as Frank continued toward him, his gun held forward, ready to fire at any second. “I’ll give you money, I’ll give you whatever you want! I’ll tell all my friends about you, it’ll scare them straight!”

Frank put the gun down as the man breathed a sigh of relief. Darren started laughing, thinking Frank was going to let him live. That’s when Frank simply shoved the man off the roof. Darren fell three stories and collided onto a vehicle below, crushing the roof of his new porcsh, shattering the windshield on impact.

Frank took one last look down below before tossing the vile of crack he took off the pizza boy over the side of the building as he turned and walked away. Frank walked out of the building and pushed a button on a small remote. The building erupted in large fiery explosion as Frank didn’t even bother looking back. His job was done, that’s all that mattered.

Don Martoni wasn’t always heavy set. He used to be quite slender, actually. That was before he was robbed of the use of his legs when he his kneecaps were blown out. Before he was robbed of his livelihood. The man was only in his late 30s, but he was roughly near 300 pounds.

The man drove his electric wheelchair behind the desk in his office and looked out into the yard, where two boys were playing. Don smiled.Neither boy was his, although he had arranged it to look as if they were. Joshua had just celebrated his 12th birthday.Benji was nearing his 9th. Neither had Don’s bright red hair or his penchant for murdering anyone who crossed him.

Don turned his attention toward his desk and looked down at the afternoon paper. That’s when he saw one of the men who had caused him so much pain and suffering in his life staring right back up at him, with the headline ‘Drug Lord Cleared of Charges’. He stretched his large, chunky fingers to the phone and dialed.

“It’s time. Bring me Frank Castle.”

Frank Castle looked down into his empty glass of ginger ale as he sat at the counter. Even though Frank never touched alcohol, he still liked sitting in the bar, trying to find new ways to clean up society’s mess. In an ironic way, the glass represented his life. It was an empty void, that no matter how much he tried to fill it by waging a one man war against crime, it would always end up empty again.

The man was dressed in a black t-shirt, a long black trenchcoat, blue jeans, and black boots. He had dark black hair, and three day old stubble on his chin. The normal white skull that typically adorned his shirt wasn’t currently present, as today was one of Frank’s rare days where he took the day off from avenging crime to get his head together for the next mission.

This was the tenth anniversary of the day that he lost his family and his life was forever changed. Frank reached into his pocket and pulled out a small necklace made from an old seashell. A symbol of what he’d lost that day…

“Dad, wake up,” David Castle said as he ran into the room and jumped onto his parent’s bed. It was only six thirty in the morning.

Frank opened his eyes and saw his young son and his beautiful wife laying next to him. Frank rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he looked at the boy. He had his mother’s light blonde hair and his father’s blue eyes.

“It’s awfully early, sport,” Frank said, pretending to not know why he was up this early. “What’s the occasion?”

David smiled as he handed his dad a small box. “Happy Father’s Day, Dad.”

Frank opened the box and found a small necklace made from a seashell inside.

“I made it myself,” David told him. “I know it’s not very good, but-”

“It’s the best present I could ever ask for,” Frank said as he patted his son’s head.

“Go get dressed,” Maria said as she smiled at Frank. “I want to give your father his present.”

“You’re going to have sex, aren’t you?” David asked as his parents laughed.

“You’re too young to even know what that is,” Frank told the boy, lightly tapping the back of his head. “Now go on, we’ve got a big day planned.”

David ran off as Frank smiled at his wife. “Kids.”

“Kids,” Maria replied with a smile as she looked into his eyes and kissed him. “Happy Father’s Day, baby.”

Frank held the necklace in his hands as passionately embraced the love of his life.

The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and people were walking hand in hand down the street. Frank Castle was resisting the urge to vomit as he walked along the sidewalk. Sunshine days weren’t his thing, not anymore. That’s when he heard a scream. He turned his attention down the alley and saw a man attacking a young woman, slapping her around. She was obviously a prostitute, judging by her halter top, skirt, and heels that could double as lethal weapons.

“You little bitch!” the man said as he slapped the woman to the ground. “Did you really think you could steal my money and get away with it?”

“I’m sorry, baby!” The woman pleaded. “I- I just needed a quick fix and-”

The man curled his fist into a ball and prepared to punch her with his brass knuckles-

BLAM!

Where the man’s hand once was, now was just a bloody stump. He screamed in pain as he looked down at the gushing wound. Frank stood with his gun drawn a few feet away, the barrel still smoking.

“How many times did he hit you?” Frank casually asked.

“F- five times,” the woman stuttered in a scared voice.

Frank fired off four more shots: Two into the man’s shoulders and two into his legs.

“You sonofabitch!” the man shouted as laid on the ground, bleeding.

“You’ll live,” Frank told the screaming man as he stepped over him. “Unless you want to push your luck. You,” Frank looked down at the woman, “check yourself into rehab, stop whoring around, and get your life together, and maybe guys won’t find the urge to use your stupid ass as a punching bag.”

Frank turned and walked out of the alley as the woman stole the bleeding man’s wallet and rushed out of the alley to call 911, and would soon follow Frank’s orders. She was too scared to do anything else.

Frank returned to his cheap motel room and tossed his trenchcoat to the chair by the door. He couldn’t wait to get the hell out of this town. It was too… perky for his liking. He went into the bathroom to wash up when the doorknob of his room began to turn, the lock having been picked.

A man dressed in all black stepped in fifteen seconds later, and instantly found a gun held to his head.

“Don’t kill me, man, I’m just a messenger!” the man shouted.

“A messenger who’s breaking and entering,” Frank replied as he cocked the trigger. “You’ve got three seconds to tell me what you’re here for.”

“DonMartonisentme!” the man quickly shouted.

Frank’s eyes shrunk to slits. “Take a seat. We’re going to have a little talk and you can tell me everything.”

“That was all,” the man told him. “I can’t tell you anything else.”

Frank pulled a hunting knife from a holster on his belt. “My friend here says different.”

Don Martoni was sitting behind his desk, looking over the shipping arrangements of his latest drug cargo while he ate from a tray big enough to feed a family of four. The latest supply of crystal meth should hit the streets by Tuesday if all went as planned. He was about to sign off on the documents when the sounds of gunfire were heard.

Don looked up, not surprised at the outburst when the door slammed open, and Frank walked in, with the messenger beaten, bound and gagged, slung over Frank’s shoulder. He threw the bloodied young man onto the desk.

“It’s been a long time,” Frank calmly said as he looked at the fat man, taking a seat in front of the desk.

“Yes,” Don replied, both of them ignoring the bound man’s mumbling as he laid on the desk inbetween them. “You look good.”

“I do a lot of working out,” Frank told him as the blood from the messenger’s wounds seeped onto the desk. “What the hell do you want, Martoni? Ready to die?”

“Come, walk with me,” Don told him as wheeled himself out from behind the desk. “Well, you walk.”

Frank followed the man as drove his wheelchair out into the garden as the man on the desk just whimpered, watching them leave.

“So, how’s life been treating you?” Don asked as looked at the roses.

Frank gave the man a pissed off look.

“Right,” Don told him. “I know we’ve never been… good friends.”

“I’m the one who put you in that chair,” Frank told him in a cold voice. “You vowed to kill me and everyone I cared about. Your head should be splattered on your office desk right now.”

“Yes, I know,” Don told him with a sigh as they went through the garden, leading into the man’s large yard. “But I know you won’t kill me. Not yet, at least. We’ve got a lot in common, you and I.”

“You’re a fat man in a wheelchair and I kill scum for a living,” Frank replied as looked down at the man. “Yeah, we got a lot in common.”

“We both want to protect the innocent, to a certain extent,” Don told him as they stopped and saw the two boys playing football in the yard. “Those are my boys. Joshua and Benji.”

“Cute,” Frank told him as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a gun. “I won’t kill you in front of your kids, I’m not that far into the darkness. But make your point before I decide to shoot out your arms and make your limbs match.”

“I have a problem,” Don told him.

“It’s called Jenny Craig, look into it,” Frank snidely replied as Don laughed.

Don pulled out a picture of a young man in his early twenties. He was blonde and looked sweet and innocent.

“This is my brother Joey,” Don told him. “You remember Joey?”

“The kid who wanted to become a doctor to help people,” Frank replied. “Didn’t have a mean bone in his body. What happened to him?”

“Something too vicious for my baby brother,” Don told him. “Joey’s dead.”

“I’m sorry,” Frank told him. “I liked the kid for what it’s worth. The only good thing to come out of your whole damned family. How’d it happen?”

“He was killed by a rival family,” Don told him. “Joey got involved with the daughter of Vic Ritoli. Vic found out and had both of them killed. He had Joey dismembered and sent to me in several boxes.”

“Jesus,” Frank said as he gave Don the picture. “But what does that have to do with me?”

“Because,” Don told him. “I want you to kill the Ritoli family for this injustice. You see, I’m under… heavy scrutiny by the feds lately and can’t be connected to this. I’ll pay you five million to take them all out.”

Frank laughed, something he rarely did as he looked at Don. “No. Joey was a good kid, but this is your mess. You clean it up.”

“Benji, could you come here?” Don shouted to the boy. The boy rushed over and looked at the men. “Benji, this is Frank Castle.”

“Hello, sir,” the child said as he looked up at Frank. The boy had dark black hair and blue eyes. Frank looked at the picture of Joey and then over at Joshua, who shared his father’s blonde hair and facial features. Obviously neither boy was his. Frank could guess who Josh’s father really was.

“Don, you’re fuckin’ nuts if you think your kids are going to change my mind,” Frank told him. There was something familiar about this boy, he just couldn’t place where he knew the kid from.

“Benji, run along,” Don told him. “Lunch is almost ready. You and Josh go wash up.”

“Yes, sir,” Benji said as he ran off. When the boy was gone, Don looked up at Frank.

“Benji was adopted,” Don told him. “He needed a good home. His mother died and his father never knew about him. The poor boy had no place to go.”

“You’re breaking my heart,” Frank coldly told him as he turned to leave.

“You know, it’s funny,” Don said to Frank as he started walking off. “You carry on this so called war of yours because you lost your entire family to violence.”

Frank turned around and pulled his gun. He shot out the wheels on Don’s wheelchair.

“Don’t ever mention my family,” Frank angrily told the fat man.

Don smiled as he looked at Frank, knowing he’d a struck a nerve, which was his goal. “You had a son, didn’t you? He’d be, what, 18 by now? And a loving wife and a little girl. Weren’t you planning on adding on an additional member of your family before… the accident?”

Frank’s hand came so close to squeezing the trigger. “What are you getting at?”

Don got a vicious smile on his face.

“Benji’s your son.”