SAINTS AND SINNERS

Part II

By Tobias Christopher

Twelve Years Ago

The Carter family, living under an assumed name, was enjoying a peaceful Saturday morning in their home. They had adapted well to their new surroundings in the few weeks since they’d moved in. Jack Carter had taken a job at a local factory, while his wife Martha had been staying at home to care for their new baby, Morgan.

Chip Carter was the only one to not take to the move well. He’d had to leave behind his friends and the girl next door that he had been harboring a crush on for quite some time. They’d even recently shared their first kiss, just before Chip was hit by the news that the family was moving far, far away.

His parents hadn’t told him the full truth about why they had to leave suddenly, or why they had to change their names. He didn’t know why there were men with guns coming around at all hours to check on the family’s safety, or why Chip was suddenly hit with mountains of rules of where he could and couldn’t go, or even who he could talk to. They only told Chip to pack up what he could before the family left. To that day, Chip still hadn’t known why he had to leave behind Anya, the girl next door but by the end of the hour, he’d know why.

It happened quickly and without warning. The men assigned to guard to the Carters were killed quickly and brutally, their bodies dumped into the bushes to hide them. The phone lines were cut to prevent any calls to 911 and the tires on the family car were slashed to prevent escape.

Martha Carter was the first to die as the assassins kicked open the door and immediately fired a shot as she emerged from the kitchen. Dropping the plate of cookies she had just freshly baked, her body slid back against the wall, leaving a bloody streak as she fell to the floor.

Jack Carter was next, as he had heard the commotion from upstairs. As he saw the men with the guns and his wife dead on the floor, he knew what was happening. Before he could rush to protect his sons, he was shot several times. Jack fell over the banister, falling down to the floor in a crumpled heap.

Howard Saint pulled off the black mask he’d been wearing as he shot both Carters. “The kids must be upstairs. Let’s make this quick.”

At the time of his parents’ murders, Chip had been wearing headphones as he sat on his bed. He’d been listening to some 80’s rock that his father had turned him onto when the smell of cookies filled the air. Pulling off the headphones, Chip jumped off the bed, hoping to get one of his mother’s delicious peanut butter cookies before they cooled down. Once they were no longer warm, the cookies taste would vanish along with their softness. Next to vegetables, a stale cookie was the most vile tasting thing a 12 year old could experience.

As his hand touched the doorknob, he heard the gunshots coming from downstairs. By the time he opened the door to see what was happening, he saw the armed men heading upstairs. His first thoughts turned to Morgan. His baby brother was sleeping up the hall. Chip had to get to him, as well as the phone that was in the same room.

Chip ran as fast as he could, but it wasn’t fast enough. Before he could reach the door, his was arm caught and he was pulled back. He started punching the man holding him, only to be met with a severe punch in return, bloodying his nose. Chip was forced back into his bedroom and into a chair.

Chip Carter sat in the chair, breathing heavily, facing away from the computer that he’d recently received for his birthday. Making sure he stayed in the chair were two men dressed in black suits, holding guns and looking as if they had nothing better to do than kill an innocent family. They weren’t the guards that were assigned to keep his family safe after they’d entered the Witness Protection Program, not that Chip knew what the other men for, either.

Tears fell down the young man’s face as the hand of the man who’d ordered the death of his family reached over, using a handkerchief to wipe away the mixture of tears and mucus that was slowly seeping from his nose. “I didn’t want to kill them,” the man said soothingly as he cleaned young Chip’s face. “They gave me no choice. You see, you’re far too young to understand matters like this. I killed your family because I had to protect mine.”

Chip could hear the cries of his infant brother coming from down the hall, having woken up from his nap. The only family he had left in the world now.

“Why?” was all Chip could manage to say as he sat there, quivering in fear.

“Your father, he knew things about me and my family,” the man continued as he finished cleaning Chip’s face. “He was what we call an informant. What he knew could have destroyed everything my forefather’s built. I couldn’t have everything my family worked so hard for be taken away.”

Another tear streamed down Chip’s face, unable to ask the question he already knew the answer to, the question that was answered when he saw the gun being raised toward him.

“I just wanted you to understand before I send you to join your family,” the man said as a bullet flew out of the gun. Blood splattered onto the computer screen next to Chip, slowly moving down the monitor as the young man’s body crumpled onto the floor, his eyes wide open. His short life immediately began flashing before his eyes as he watched the men exit the room.

As his body laid on the floor, Chip could see his parents being proud of their son for his excellent grades. He saw his baby brother being brought home for the first time and Chip promising he’d always protect him. He could see his father telling the family that they had to pack up and leave without warning one day. Chip could see out of the back of the window as the car drove away, leaving the girl next door with whom he’d shared his first kiss getting smaller on the horizon. Every memory, good and bad, painful and pleasing, was viewed within a matter of seconds as Chip felt his life slipping away.

As the world around young Chip Carter started going dark, he could still hear the cries of his baby brother. Saint walked down the hall and opened the nursery door, finding young Morgan lying in the crib, having just woken up.

Saint pulled out his gun as he looked at the infant, who had no idea of what had happened to his parents and brother. Saint felt something coming over him, realizing he couldn’t kill this baby, no matter how cold and ruthless he claimed to be. That’s when he felt a tugging at his pant leg.

“No,” said Jack Carter, mustering all the life he had left to protect his sons. “Don’t.”

Saint said nothing as he pointed his gun, shooting the man point blank in the head to finish the job he’d come to do. Morgan’s cries were silenced as the gun went off, having been scared into being quiet. Saint picked the baby up and looked at his men.

“Let’s go,” Saint told him. “We’re finished here.”

Today

“We’ve been set up,” Frank said as he looked around. “Son of a bitch must have known we were coming. The door is locked and I don’t see another way out.”

Relax, I’ll get you out of there, Chip told him as he started typing. I’ve got the building’s schematics in front of me. There should be a grate that leads to the sewers on the floor next to the far left wall.

The police started ramming the door from the outside as Frank started searching. He pushed several crates out of the way, revealing a narrow grate in the floor.  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” said Frank as he looked at the grate as he looked back at the door. There was only way he going to fit through an opening that small. Minutes later, the police broke down the door, their guns drawn as they looked around. All they found was the dead body tied to the chair.

“Frank?” asked Chip. “Frank!?”

I’m here, said Frank as he ran through the sewers. I barely got through the grate. Had to leave all the weapons and my coat behind to do it, though.

“I’m listening to the police scan,” Chip told him. “They’re saying you killed the guy in the warehouse. An APB’s out on you, with orders to shoot to kill.”

Makes sense, Frank said as he looked for a manhole to climb out from. Saint must have the police in his pocket.

“He’s running for governor, so he’s probably got a lot more than just the police,” Chip replied. “Judges, lawyers, the whole nine yards. Even if they take you alive, they’ll burn you at the stake before you even reach prison.”

The element of surprise was the only weapon we had, Frank said as he climbed out of the sewers. We have to lay low and come up with a new plan.

“Any idea where?” asked Chip as he looked out the window for Frank. “Saint’s probably got eyes and ears everywhere.”

“Not everywhere,” Frank replied as he suddenly appeared outside the window, startling Chip.

James Griffen and his new partner, Michael Barrie, had just arrived in town and were on their way to the local FBI branch to check in. Barrie turned on the radio as the news about the attempt to arrest the Punisher was announced.

Griffen pulled the car into the motel parking lot as he looked at the younger man in the passenger seat. “You know, it’s getting late. Why don’t you check us in and I’ll go grab us a bite to eat. We’ll check in with the office at sunrise.”

“Are you kidding? I’m too excited to sleep on my first assignment,” Barrie told him.

“Then just get the rooms so we’ll have a place to crash, I’ll be back soon,” Griffen told him. Barrie just sighed as he got out of the car, watching Griffen drive off. Barrie’s eyes shrunk into untrusting slits as he headed to the office to get the rooms.

Meanwhile, Griffen pulled out his personal cell phone and dialed Frank Castle’s private number, but wasn’t getting any response. He put the phone away and realized he was going to track down the Punisher the old fashioned way, the way he was trained to do.

Morgan Saint was sitting with his big brother at the park, both having an ice cream cone. Saint’s bodyguards were keeping a close eye on them from not too far away, just in case Frank Castle showed up.

“I thought you’d forgotten about me when you went away to college,” Morgan told him without looking over. “Or are you just hanging out with me because you’ve got nothing better to do?”

The thought of John attending college on the East coast hadn’t sat well with him, as John was the only real friend Morgan had thanks the constant bodyguards and security.

“Over emotional much?” asked John. “You’re my brother, I love hanging out with you even when you’re a whiny pain in the ass. I remember the day dad brought you home from the orphanage. He made me promise that I would always watch out for you, and I’ve never broken that promise, have I?”

“No,” Morgan told him. “But what happens when you decide you wanna get married or you get a job that won’t leave you any time for me?”

“Morgan, I swear to you that I will always make time for you,” John told him. “Family first, little bro. Mind if I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“You ever think about looking up your real family?” asked John as he finished his cone. “I mean, weren’t you ever curious about where you came from?”

“Dad told me,” Morgan replied. “Said my birth mom was a crackwhore and my dad was someone who’d sell out his family for a nickel. They put me up for adoption the second I popped out of my mom’s clownhole and never looked back. I never want to know those people or anyone associated with them. The Saints are my only family.”

John smiled as he pulled Morgan close to him. “And don’t you ever forget that, kid. No matter what anyone tells you, you’re a Saint.”

“We’re laying low in the worst part of town?” asked Chip as he walked behind Frank as they walked down a street in a rundown neighborhood. “This’ll be the first place they look!”

“We’re not staying here, we’re just getting some info to lead us someplace safe,” Frank said as he knocked on a door. An overweight mexican woman wearing pink and purple answered, looking Frank over. “Are you Dora?”

“Hola,” the woman said in a raspy voice as she took a puff of her cigarette. She looked at Chip standing behind Frank. Chip couldn’t help but notice the skeletal remains of a monkey that looked like it had been last night’s dinner sitting on top of a stove. “I’m a one woman show. If you want to party with more than one person, go see Bob the Gangbanger next door.”

“CAN WE FUCK IT?” came a man’s voice from behind the wall next door.

“YES WE CAN!” replied at least a dozen voices.

“We’re actually here to see a former employer of yours,” said Frank as the woman looked nervous. She reached down into her cleavage and pulled out a piece of paper.

“No one can know I gave this to you,” said the woman. “Especially my pimp, Diego.”

“This is what we came for,” Frank told Chip as they walked away. “Let’s go.”

“We’re going to see a pimp?” asked Chip with a raised eyebrow.

“Not just any pimp, a pimp who can hide us,” replied Frank as they headed back down the street.

“The Punisher got away,” Glass told Saint as he watched his employer sitting behind his desk. “They’re not sure how he did it, but–”

“Did you know that rats can enter or escape anyplace with even the tiniest of openings?” asked Saint as he read the paper. “They have no rhyme or reason, they just squeeze in or out because it’s part of their nature. Frank Castle is a disease-ridden rat, Quentin, so it doesn’t shock me to hear that he got away. Not this time and probably not the next, but like with any rat, eventually the little bastard will be caught sticking his nasty little head into the wrong trap, and he’ll get his fucking neck snapped. Where are my sons?”

“At the park, with added security,” Glass told him. “They’re safe.”

“No, they’re not safe because Frank Castle is still breathing,” Saint said as he put the paper down. “Fuck the security detail, I want actual police protecting my boys when they go out.”

“But Howard–”

Saint pulled out a gun and fired, barely missing Glass’s head.

“That sounded like you were questioning me,” Saint said as he put the gun down. “Now is not the time for questioning, now is the time for action. Actions such as killing Frank Castle before he gets anywhere near these premises. The clock’s ticking, Quentin; I want Frank Castle dead and Chip Carter brought to me alive, my boys home safe and the entire fucking state of California in the palm of my hand. Make these things happen for me and you’ll be greatly rewarded.”

Glass sighed as he walked out of Saint’s office, biding his time and waiting for Saint to slip up. Then he’d move in assume power, and then Quentin Glass would be the one giving orders.

Barrie was sitting in the motel room trying to decide whether or not to pick up the phone. He had people in California that he hadn’t spoken to in a very long time, whose voices he desperately wanted to hear. Finally picking up the phone, he dialed a number.

Hello? came a woman’s voice as Barrie just as quickly hung up before running a hand through his hair. He took a deep breath and grabbed a bottle of beer from the mini-fridge. He hadn’t expected the Punisher to be in California, and getting dragged along with Griffen was just an incredible stroke of luck.

But now that he knew, Barrie knew what had to be done. He had to personally find the Punisher and end what was a very long crusade of trying to find the man who was responsible for his current situation.

“So, where exactly are we headed?” asked Chip as he followed behind Frank into a seemingly low rent part of town. “This place doesn’t look any better than the last neighborhood.”

“We’re going to someone who owes me a favor,” said Frank as they arrived at what looked like a rundown disco hall. “A pimp that I ran across several years ago. I helped him to ‘see the light’ when I found out he was using and abusing the girls working for him.”

“What favor did you do for him?” asked Chip as he looked around.

“I didn’t shoot his dick off,” Frank replied as he knocked on the door. “People tend to be very grateful when I put that offer on the table.”

A slit on the door opened as a woman wearing fur all over answered.

“We’re here to see the Pimp,” said Frank.

“No one gets in to see the Pimp, not no one, not no how!” replied the woman.

“It’s Frank Castle,” Frank said as he gave her a dead stare.

“The Pimp’s Frank? Well, why didn’t you just say so? That’s a whore of a different color!” the woman said as she closed the slit and opened the door.

“For some reason this seems so familiar,” said Chip as the door opened and they walked into the disco hall, which had been transformed into a vast, shining utopia. It was brightly lit and there were women dressed in skimpy outfits and rollerskates all around. “Am I dead? Because I think we’re in heaven.”