Several Years Earlier

“You’re a piece of shit, Nicky Cavella,” said the dark haired Latino woman who, seven months previous, had given Nicky a beautiful baby boy. “You’re a fucking piece of shit and you’re going to hell!”

As Rose Cavella sat in the bed, clutching the blanket close to her naked body, she stared ahead in horror at the gun her husband Nicky was holding point blank at her. Laying next to Rose was a young black man, Cavella’s best friend, whom Rose had been carrying on an affair with for quite some time. Blood dripped from the young man’s forehead, fresh from the bullet that had pierced his skull. His eyes stared wide into space as he lay dead, his body getting colder.

“I’m a piece of shit?” asked Nicky as he laughed at her. He held the gun, fighting back the tears of knowing the woman he loved had betrayed him. Part of him had known she was unfaithful; he just didn’t want to admit it to himself, not until he found her in bed with the man he’d grown up with and considered a brother. “I’m a piece of shit!? You fucking whore! I loved you! We had a son together!”

“You love only yourself,” argued Rose, knowing either way Nicky was going to kill her. “You spend all your time running the damned mob! You never made time for me or the baby! Maybe if you’d have been a real man I wouldn’t have had to look elsewhere for affection!”

“And you found it with him?” asked Nicky, growing even more angry. “With my best friend?!”

“At least he knew how to treat a woman,” argued Rose before a smirk crossed her face. “Besides, the baby that’s sleeping in the crib down the hall? It’s his—”

Before Rose could finish what she was saying, the gun fired, killing her with a single bullet through the head, sending the woman’s body falling backward onto the bed next to her lover.

Down the hall, laying in his crib, was Alexander Cavella, who shared none of Nicky’s features. Nicky picked the sleeping child up, holding him tight.

“It’s just you and me now, son,” said Nicky, now a little more insane than he was before as he held the black skinned child tight against his body. “You’re my kid and nobody’s ever going to change that.”

OUT OF THE PAST

Part III

By Tobias Christopher

Today

As Nicky pulled the cloaks off the three caskets, Frank looked at them in anger. Inside of the caskets were the remains of Frank’s family, killed years ago during an innocent family outing in the park. It was their deaths at the hands of criminals that had caused Frank to go over the edge and become the Punisher, whose war on crime now numbered over two thousand dead criminals.

“Aw, you look upset, Frank,” laughed Cavella as he watched Frank’s rage build. “I thought you’d be happy to see your family before you died.”

“You’re dead,” said Frank as he felt the chains starting to give way. The adrenaline rush was giving him the strength he needed to break free of his restraints. “I don’t care what it takes, you’re dead.”

“Relax, Frank, it’s not like I can hurt your family,” said Cavella simply as he opened Maria’s casket. “Yet, at least.”

Cavella ran a finger along the side of Maria’s skull, smiling at his hostage. “You’re going to sit there and watch me violate your wife and daughter over and over again, Castle. It’s going to drive you insane knowing that you can’t do shit to stop me. And when I’m done with them, I’m gonna tell you what I did to your little boy the second his casket arrived. You’re gonna love this story—”

That was the last straw for Frank’s final remaining nerve. The chains broke and, even though he’d feel the pain much later, right now he didn’t give a damn. All that mattered was tearing Cavella limb from limb.

“Finally,” said Cavella, smiling as he saw Frank coming. This was going to be so much fun; after all, there was no way he could focus now. Castle would be a sitting duck for him to take out. “Come on, Punisher, let’s see what you—”

Frank’s fist plowed into Cavella’s nose, not just cracking it but shattering it completely.

Elsewhere in the city, near the Good Ship Lollipop Candy Shop, the two young candy thieves were up to the same trick once again.

“We won’t get caught this time,” the boy told his friend as they looked at the store from across the street. “You’ll see. We’ll get in and we’ll get out.”

“And what about the Punisher? He told us that—” the other boy started to say before his friend cut him off.

“The Punisher was just dicking with us,” the first boy told him. “He’s not going to kill us. He doesn’t kill kids. He was just trying to scare us. We’ll just go in, get the stuff then get out, and we won’t get caught or killed.”

Meanwhile, at that moment, Chip was walking down the street with Morgan, who was jumping over cracks in an attempt to not land on them, humming to himself. Chip never stopped to ask why his little brother was dressed in the same manner that he himself had been day his brother had been shot in the head: a blue t-shirt partly shiny with fresh blood constantly dripping onto it, blue jeans and a pair of white socks only, since Chip had left his sneakers outside on that porch that afternoon. It had been raining and Chip had taken delight in playing in mud puddles before heading inside, not knowing the fate that awaited him and his family.

“What the hell are you doing?” asked Chip without even having to look over his shoulder.

“Playing,” replied Morgan as he continued to dodge the many cracks that lined the sidewalk. “I may be dead, but I still like to have fun, so fuck you. Where are we going, anyway?”

“Trying to find a lead on where Castle is,” replied Chip as they walked along the empty street. “I tracked him here, probably on a mission or something. Maybe I can lend him a hand, help him out some before our talk. I just have to find someone who can point me in the right direction.”

“Yeah, right, like anyone’s going to give information to you,” said Morgan as he continued skipping the cracks. Chip stopped and paused briefly, taking in his little brother’s words.

“…shit, you’re right,” said Chip as they continued on. “What am I going to say—”

Just as the two turned the corner, Chip ran into the two would be thieves. “—the Punisher sent me?”

As soon as the two boys heard the Punisher’s name, both instantly felt streams of urine run down their legs. Both began running, crying as they headed home. Neither would ever think about committing a crime ever again.

“What the hell was that all about?” asked Chip as they entered the candy shop to get a snack.

Years Earlier

“Nicky, you have to come back,” Johnny Burton, Nicky’s current best friend and new head of Cavella’s section of the mob family, begged as the two sat in the backyard of his home. Nicky’s eight-year-old son Alex was playing with the puppy his father had bought for him. “The family’s fallen apart.”

“My boy needs me more than the family does,” replied Nicky as he looked over at his son. Johnny, as well as the rest of the mob families, knew better than to bring up the subject of Alex’s true paternity, even though everyone was well aware of Rose Cavella’s infidelity. “I promised him on the night his mother died that I’d never let anything happen to him. Coming back to the family puts him in danger.”

“But—”

“He’s sick,” said Nicky with pain in his voice. “Constant migraines, loss of appetite, shit like that. The doctor’s don’t have an answer for what’s doing it, but I’m taking him into the hospital Thursday. They’ll find out what’s wrong with him, or else.”

Nicky looked over at Johnny with a serious look on his face. “Alex is all I have…the only thing keeping me from going completely batshit. If I lost him…”

“The family’s behind you, Nicky, just remember that,” assured Johnny. “Whatever you need.”

Today

Cavella flew backward, blood flowing down his nose. This wasn’t quite how he was expecting things to go. As a completely unhinged Frank walked toward him, Cavella’s men filed into the room, their guns drawn.

“It’s a good thing I didn’t tell you what I did to your kid yet,” said Cavella, trying to laugh as he started to get up.

Frank, seeing the men coming in, knew this was going to be where it all ended. But he wasn’t about to go down without taking some of them, and Cavella, with him. Picking up the broken chain and wrapping it around his wrist good and tight, he swung it with all the strength the adrenaline rush was giving him.

The chain, hitting the first gunmen in the head, caused him to turn his gun onto the man standing next to him, blowing his face clean off with one close range shot. As Frank continued to swing the chain, the rest of the men opened fire, although now far too nervous to shoot straight. The bullets that did make their mark on Frank stung like hell, but he’d bite back the pain. None of them had hit any vital organs and, even if they had, he’d force himself to continue on. He wasn’t going to stop until Nicky Cavella was a broken man.

Morgan stared at the peanut butter cups in the plastic container as Chip walked up to the counter where the large man was refilling some of the empty stock.

“Can I help you?” asked Mr. Bumpo as he turned to face Chip.

“Yeah, I’m looking for something a little sweeter than candy,” said Chip as he slid a hundred dollar bill across the table.

“I’m flattered, kid, but I don’t think you could handle all of this,” said Bumpo, gesturing down at his body as Chip realized where the conversation had inadvertently gone.

“NO! I meant g-u-n-s,” whispered Chip as Bumpo raised an eyebrow.

“Get the hell out of my store, kid,” said Bumpo as Morgan walked up the counter.

“Buy me some peanut butter cups,” demanded Morgan.

“Why? So you can watch them melt in the sun?” asked Chip as he looked back up at Bump. “I’m trying to find Frank.”

Bumpo turned back around and grabbed Chip by the shirt. “You look like a nice kid, too nice for the kind of crap that goes on in his world. Let me tell you the story of Spacker Dave and what happened to him when he went to bat for Frank Castle…”

Years Earlier

Alex Cavella lay in the hospital bed, having just been admitted. The doctor was going to come and have x-rays taken to see what was going on inside of the boy’s head, as he’d been complaining of constant headaches and sometimes even passing out.

“It’s going to be alright, buddy,” said Nicky as he sat by his son’s bedside. “It’s all going to be alright.”

“Can we go for ice cream when I get out of here?” asked Alex as his father held his hand. He loved Nicky and really did think of him as his father. The two never questioned the color of their skin, because it didn’t matter. It never mattered what anyone but the two of them thought, because to Nicky and Alex Cavella they truly were father and son.

“We’ll do whatever you want, champ,” smiled Cavella as he squeezed his son’s hand for assurance. “We just have to see what the doctor has to say. Then we’ll go get ice cream, see a ballgame, whatever you want.”

Meanwhile, downstairs in the E.R., Dr. Clooney was on his way to Alex’s room when his pager went off. A life or death case was coming in and he didn’t have a choice in the matter as the hospital was already short staffed as it was. The emergency workers rushed the gurney through the doors as Clooney joined them.

“What do we have?” asked Clooney as he took the vitals.

“Adult male, late twenties to early thirties,” the emergency worker told him. “There was a shooting in the park. A woman and two children were shot to death, but this guy’s been barely hanging on.”

As the doctors rushed Frank into emergency surgery, Cavella continued to wonder what was taking the doctor so long to come see his son. He was starting to get annoyed that his little boy was taking less of a priority than anything else at the moment.

“Where the hell is that guy?” asked Cavella an hour later, running a hand through his son’s hair. “You okay?”

“My head hurts, daddy,” said Alex as he closed his eyes. He laid his head back against the pillow, his tone sounding tired. “I just want to…sleep…”

“Come on, pal, stay awake for me,” said Cavella as his son’s head fell to the side. “Alex? Alex, come on, open your eyes for me. Alex? SHIT!”

Running out into the hallway, Cavella looked for a doctor, a nurse, anyone. There had to be someone in this damn hospital who could see his son.

“SOMEBODY HELP ME!”

Downstairs, Frank Castle was taken to intensive care after a grueling surgery, his life slowly coming back to him. It wouldn’t be long before he woke up to the harsh reality of his family being slaughtered.

What the doctors didn’t realize was that the man who was Frank Castle really had died that day…and the Punisher had been born in his place. Right now, Castle was still dreaming of waking up and seeing his wife and children sitting by his bedside…a dream that would shattered when he opened his eyes to the news reports on the television in his room.

“Well, it was rough, but he pulled through,” said Clooney, washing his hands after the surgery. “He’s going to have a long and happy life to look forward to.”

Upstairs, Alex Cavella had been pronounced dead. An undetected tumor that hadn’t been caught by earlier x-rays pressing against his brain finally became too much for the child, taking his life. If the tumor had been caught as early as an hour ago, emergency surgery might have possibly saved his life.

Feeling rage, anger and hurt, Nicky Cavella felt like his world has just been shattered. His son was dead because of the doctor who couldn’t be bothered to see him. Along with his son’s life, on that day died the last strand of Nicky Cavella’s sanity.

Now there was nothing holding him back and all that Cavella wanted now was revenge against those responsible. The hospital’s corridors would run red with blood until Cavella had killed every man who took his precious son away from him.

It wasn’t long before he found out who Alex’s doctor was and cornered Dr. Clooney in his office. Having wasted no words upon entering the room, he shot the doctor through the legs, insuring there was little chance he’d run.

“You–YOU killed my son!” shouted Nicky angrily as he pointed the gun. “Where the fuck were you when my kid needed a doctor? Alex would be alive now if you’d been there to see him!”

“Please, I didn’t know!” begged Clooney as he lay bleeding on the floor. “That man would have died if I hadn’t—”

“FUCK! THAT! GUY!” shouted Cavella as he shot Clooney through the arms. “My little boy’s dead because of you! I don’t give a fuck about some other guy! My little boy was supposed to come first!”

“Please, I’ll do anything, just don’t—”

“The name,” said Cavella, still holding the gun tightly. “The name of the fucking bastard who was obviously so much more important than my kid.”

“Castle,” said Clooney, bleeding heavily. “Frank Castle. He’s in intensive care.”

Shooting Clooney point blank in the chest several times, ending the man’s life quickly, Cavella headed to the intensive care ward, but by the time he got there Frank Castle was nowhere to be found, having already woken up and escaped, fueled by the rage over the death of his own family and well on the way to exacting his own vengeance.

Now

“Now do you see why you need to stay away from Frank Castle?” asked Bumpo as he looked at Chip. He’d spent the last half hour explaining about the many facial piercings his good friend Spacker Dave had pulled out through means of torture while standing up to mob goons looking for Frank. “I owe the guy a lot, which is why I’m trying to keep someone from getting killed because of him.”

“I know what I’m doing,” replied Chip as he looked at the man. “I have my reasons for wanting to do this.”

“Buy me some peanut butter cups,” demanded Morgan again as Chip sighed. He filled a plastic bag and paid for them.

“I appreciate you trying to warn me, but…this is something I have to do.”

Bumpo took the money and handed Chip his change. “If you really are going to be Frank’s wingman, be careful. And don’t get anything pierced.”

As they walked out of the candy shop, Chip looked down at his little brother. “How the hell do you expect to eat these things?”

“Who said anything about eating them?” Morgan asked as he walked ahead. “I just wanted you to buy me something for once, you cheap bastard.”

Chip sighed as he walked behind him. If that kid wasn’t already dead, Chip would probably end up smothering him.

Cavella’s Factory

The room was littered with the bodies of Cavella’s henchman. Between the chain and his own bare hands Frank, now bloodied and bruised, had taken down a dozen men. Even with most of the men who’d tried to kill him dead on the floor, he still felt the rage brought on by what Cavella had done to the memory of his family.

Cavella had disappeared during the slaughter of his men but there was no way he could hide. But first, before finding that son of a bitch, Frank had more important business to deal with. He opened Lisa’s casket, seeing his daughter was intact. As he was about to open David’s coffin, a crowbar hit Frank in the back, sending him falling forward onto the casket, sending it crashing to the ground, destroying it under his own weight.

“Motherfucker! I was gonna bury you in that coffin!” Cavella shouted as he prepared to strike with the crowbar again.

That’s when Frank noticed that within the remains of the destroyed casket…there were no bones. No remains. His son wasn’t there. As he stood up, Cavella brought the crowbar down but Frank caught it in his hand. This broke most of the bones in his hand but he showed no pain, no weakness. Instead, Frank wrapped his other hand around Cavella’s throat.

“WHERE IS HE!?” shouted Frank angrily, squeezing Cavella’s throat tighter.

“Where do you think?” laughed Cavella, even though it was difficult to breathe. “You’ve been sitting on him all day.”

Frank looked over toward the white chair sitting on the floor. Now that he was actually seeing what he was chained to, he could clearly see the chair was made out of something other than wood and plastic. Closer inspection revealed that it was human bones that had been welded together.

No, these weren’t just any bones, but those of Frank David Castle Jr., his son.

To Be Continued…