SMILE, DARN YA, SMILE

Part I

By Tobias Christopher

Washington University Campus

Connor Duncan was showering in the men’s locker room after a long practice. He was the star of the University’s basketball team and he was going to lead his boys to victory in the coming game. Then he was going to propose to his longtime love after dinner in the priciest restaraunt in town afterward, courtesy of a loan from his best friend, with plans to marry her when he graduated in the spring.

Connor was well built with short, neatly trimmed brown hair and had a rose tattoo on his right shoulder which he’d gotten to prove his love for the girlfriend in high school who’d dumped him immediately after he got it, which left him with a horrid reminder of what he’d done for her every time he looked into the mirror.

Connor finished cleaning himself and wrapped a towel around his waist as he walked back toward his locker, noticing the entrance to the locker room was standing wide open.

“Hello?” Connor asked as he looked outside. He knew he’d shut the door when he came in. He felt a chill run up his spine as he thought he’d heard something making a jingling sound running behind him. He quickly turned and saw it was just his imagination.

Connor closed the door and nervously walked toward his locker. As he walked, his bare foot stepped right on top of a little green plastic army man with a sharpened gun piece. Connor grabbed his foot in pain as he noticed it was hard enough to pierce the sole and causing it to bleed.

Connor limped toward his locker, hoping he still had some band aids in his backpack, leaving a trail of blood behind him. He opened it and immediately felt woozy. He stumbled around and looked at the toy army man. Could it have been coated with something?

The young man felt weak and fell to his knees before he could call out for help. His body hit the ground with a loud thud. Moments later, Connor’s paralyzed body was kicked over onto his back as an insane giggling was heard. A purple gloved hand raised Connor’s head, injecting a needle into his face, pumping him with some kind of chemical.

Connor was still fully aware of everything that was happening and he could feel the cold tile floor under his bare back. He could clearly see his attacker kneeling over him, smiling insanely. The fear was racing through him as he was unable to move so much as a finger to stop the person who was doing this to him.

He could feel the pain surging in his body as he felt something cold and sharp dig into the skin on his face, moving up the side, severing the skin attached to his head. Connor could feel the blood start to trickle as the skin was slowly starting to be peeled from his features.

He could hear his attacker laughing insanely as he felt his heart to start to beat more rapidly. Connor wanted to scream as the skin was removed, leaving just a red and meaty surface, but all he could do was…smile. The attacker’s incessant laughter continued as Connor was left paralyzed and bleeding, the cold air of the locker room hitting his exposed nerve endings.

Connor Duncan’s heart gave out due to the deadly mixture of the drugs that had been injected both through his foot and through his face, but by then his attacker was long gone, the souvenir of his crime safely tucked into a jar of formaldehyde, leaving only a smiling, mutilated corpse behind.

The next afternoon in a run down apartment not too far away

Frank Castle punched the drug dealer in the nose, cracking it as the man flew back into the wall. Blood poured from the man’s face as he looked up at the approaching vigilante with the white skull on a black t-shirt.

“Don’t kill me, man!” the man pleaded as he reached for his knife, but Frank grabbed it and snapped the man’s wrist before he could attack.

“Oh, you want a chance to live, just like the kid that O.D.’d on your shit?” Frank asked as he head butted the man, adding more blood to the dealer’s face. “The kid that was found dead in the alley just up the street?”

Frank had come upon the boy, who was no older than 14, just before he died. His last words to Frank were to tell him where he’d scored. Frank had called 911 and closed the young man’s eyes before seeking vengeance.

Frank tossed the dealer as far as he could throw him. Instead of attempting to get up he reached for a gun lying next to him, but before he could fire a single round Frank fired several bullets into the his back, killing him almost instantly. At nearly the same moment the door was kicked open and an African American man in his early 50’s entered and held a gun toward the Punisher.

“FREEZE! FBI!” the man shouted. James Griffen was bald with a goatee with slight hints of gray in it. He looked at the dealer’s body, then at Frank, and put his gun down. “Shit, Frank, you could have at least given me a chance to arrest the man.”

If Frank had a sense of humor, he’d have laughed at that suggestion. Griffen was in the area and had heard the police scanner that reported Castle’s description. He’d raced to get there before the police to avoid any injury.

“What the hell are you doing in Washington?” Griffen asked as he put his gun away. “Last I heard, you were cleaning up Chicago.”

“I got word of a serial killer,” Frank replied as the two men ignored the body on the floor as a small puddle of blood formed beneath it. “I had nothing better to do, so I just came to check it out.”

The police sirens were heard in the distance as Griffen looked over at Frank.

“You’d better get the fuck out of here, man, I’ll cover you,” Griffen replied as he looked at his old friend. “Meet me in the park after midnight. I’ve got some info on this sick serial killer fuck. We’ve been tracking him for weeks.”

Frank headed toward the window and climbed down the fire escape before the police charged in. He rushed off toward his hideout to clean up and get a few hours sleep before he headed toward his meeting.

Lincoln Memorial Morgue

“That’s him,” the young man with reddish blonde hair said as he stared down at the body on the table. The grotesquely hideous smile on Connor’s face was still there, made all the more creepy by the fact that his eyes were still wide open. He saw the rose on his friend’s bare shoulder. “I recognize the tattoo.”

The young man ran two fingers over the tattoo, feeling the coldness of the body. Chip Carter was Connor’s roommate and best friend. The two had been through everything over the last six years, from happiness to suffering. The two were closer than brothers. “Connor, I’ll find the bastard who did this, I promise.”

Chip put his fingers over his friend’s eyes, something the EMT’s and even the morgue attendant were too creped out to do, and closed them. The body was covered back up before being put back into the cooler.

Chip sighed as he looked at the man. “How did they-”

“Some kind of unknown chemical,” the attendant told him simply, “and a lethal paralyzing agent. When the two were mixed together, the heartbeat sped up to the point where it gave out after a few minutes. Whoever did this to your friend…he wanted him to suffer. He was awake during the whole thing.”

“What else can you tell me?” Chip asked hopefully.

“I’m sorry, kid, I can’t divulge anymore information,” the attendant told him. “It’s a matter for the police now.”

Chip walked away, muttering under his breath, “Fuck the police, I want this guy myself.”

“You can pick up his personal effects at the front desk,” the attendant told Chip as he walked away.

MacArthur Park, Midnight

Griffen was waiting in the park underneath the old bridge, a freshly lit cigarette hanging from his mouth, the smoke escaping into the cool night air. This was where he usually met up with the Punisher when he was in town. The two men went back several years, all the way back to the war. Griffen had saved Frank’s life in Iraq and Frank had saved his. The two men formed a strong friendship that remained even after Frank had lost everything. James had been Frank’s secret FBI contact for years, giving him info when needed, knowing what would happen if he was ever caught and honestly not caring.

He admired what Frank did, even if he didn’t agree with his methods. Lord knows if he ever lost his daughter in that manner, he’d be right there gunning down people alongside the man who served as best man at his second and third weddings. Frank couldn’t make the fourth, as he had already started his war on crime at that point.

Frank soon stepped out of the shadows. Griffen saw his old friend and he could tell Frank had the weight of the world on his shoulders and could see the toll of what he’d been through in his face.

“Cigarettes will kill you,” Frank said as Griffen reached into his jacket and pulled out a yellow file.

“So will drug dealers, gun runners, and ex wives,” Griffen said as he handed Frank the file. “What we got here is one sick fuck, man. Been paralyzing people, shooting them full of shit that we can’t even begin to figure out, then cutting off their faces.”

Frank looked down at the crime scene photos, all of them smiling horrifically with no skin over their face. “Three victims, nothing in common besides the cause of death. It says they all died from heart failure.”

“Whoever did this scared the motherfuckers lifeless,” Griffen replied as he took another puff of his cigarette. “All three victims knew what was happening. This guy was probably getting some kind of sick pleasure knowing they were helpless.”

“There’s not much to go on,” Frank said as he continued flipping through the files. “A middle aged housewife, an old retired businessman and a college student. What’s the connection?”

“Unfortunately this guy’s smart enough to not leave evidence,” Griffen told his old friend as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a baggie with a toy soldier in it. “Except this. A toy covered in the same agent we found in the bodies of all three victims.”

“I need to find this guy before he strikes again,” Frank replied as he closed the file and handed it back to Griffen. He pulled out his gun and made sure it was loaded.

“You know I have no involvement in this, right?” Griffen asked as he tucked the file back into his jacket. “If you get caught, it’s your ass.”

“It always is,” Frank retaliated as he shook his friend’s hand with their special handshake.

“Just remember to stay alive,” Griffen ordered. “Taking you in is going to be my retirement present to myself in ten years.”

“It’s funny that you assume that both of us are going to live that long,” Frank commented as he turned to leave. In their lines of work, they’d both run out of luck at some point.

Griffen took one last puff of his cigarette before snuffing it out and leaving the scene himself. He had to get the file back before anyone realized it was gone.

The solution was applied to Connor Duncan’s severed face as it was held up to the light and inspected. Each one took at least 24 hours to make perfect, but it was worth it. Now Connor’s handsome face would be preserved for all eternity without fear of decay or mold.

The glue was applied to the back of the young man’s face as it was applied to the clay mask. The man held it up and admired its beauty, wiping away the glue runoff from the edges before placing Connor in his display case, alongside his two companions. There were display cases for several others, as the collection was far from complete…

Griffen returned to his small suburban home later that night, tossing his coat onto the chair. It wasn’t a fancy place, but it was nice for an honest agent’s salary. He found a note on the kitchen counter.

“Dinner’s in the stove, Daddy. Love, Jasmine.”

Griffen smiled. He didn’t know what he’d do without his baby girl there to feed him. 21 years old and she still looked out for her old man. He headed into the kitchen to get some dinner, hoping Frank would come through and catch the sick psycho who was terrorizing the city.

Chip sat in the chair in the apartment, his back facing the computer as he looked through the box he’d gotten at the morgue. He was going through Connor’s belonging’s that were cleaned out of the locker at the gym where he’d died. The two men were both orphans, each coming from a tragic past. In the end, the two were all the other could rely on to get each other through.

Connor and Chip had met in a hospital room, where both had spent a very long period, and their bond grew from there. In a way, they’d both encouraged the other to survive their medical crises.

Chip found Connor’s school books, his clothes, including the t-shirt he’d borrowed from Chip, some papers and other objects in the small blue tote. That’s when a small black box fell out of Connor’s pants pocket. Chip picked it up and opened it.

“Son of a bitch,” Chip said as he looked at the engagement ring. “He wasn’t joking when he said he was going to propose to her.”

Chip slammed the box shut and tried not to get too upset over losing his best friend. He put the box down and continued rifling through things, getting to Connor’s wallet. He pulled out his credit card and made a note to shred anything in the apartment and delete any computer file that someone could use to steal his identity. He knew how easy it was to steal someone’s life with a few simple keystrokes.

As Chip dug through Connor’s wallet, he found his license, some photos of Connor and his girlfriend, and ticket stubs that were a few months old. A tear fell down his face as he remembered that night. The last night Chip and Connor had hung out together before Connor’s girl had started taking all of his best friend’s time.

He turned toward his computer, where he quickly started typing. He started hacking into the police forensics files to find out what they knew. He was going to find this monster that killed his only friend in the world.

Jenna Patrick was walking home after a long day of grieving for her lost love, Connor. She couldn’t believe he was gone. Connor was her entire world and now he was dead. Her black heels clicked on the sidewalk as she walked home on that late night.

She hated having to walk through such a dangerous neighborhood, but the funeral home where the arrangements for Connor’s funeral were made was a few blocks from her apartment and she couldn’t bring herself to drive the car where she’d given herself to Connor not even three weeks ago.

Jenna carried pepper spray in her purse, hoping that would be enough to deter anyone who tried to mess with her. A chill ran down her spine as she thought she heard something following her. She turned back around and started walking faster, before she heard a sound coming from the bushes. It sounded like a baby crying.

Jenna got closer, and nervously pulled the brush to the side. A branch snapped back towards her face, startling her. She felt her heart race as she looked through into a darkly lit, closed off area, and saw a baby carriage with no one around.

Jenna cautiously stepped toward it and looked down inside, finding the sounds of the crying coming from under the blankets. She reached down and picked up the baby inside, holding it in front of her.

“Who on earth would abandon such a sweet baby?” Jenna asked as the blanket fell off the child, revealing it was just a plastic doll. “What the-”

It was then that the animatronics doll’s expression turned from happy to pissed off. Jenna screamed as a stream of gas poured from the baby’s mouth into her face. She coughed and dropped the doll, falling to her knees before collapsing onto the grass…

It didn’t make sense, but then again serial killers rarely did. What kind of twisted bastard would make people suffer as their faces were cut off? Frank had seen all kinds of gruesome crimes, but this was definitely a new one. Were these just random killings or was the killer targeting certain people? What connection did the three victims have?

Frank knew he should have had more weapons on him besides the usual .38’s, a few hidden knifes and his trusty clip belt, but this was just a simple patrol. He didn’t think he’d run into the murderer this soon and if he did there was no need to go overboard if this guy was just a scrawny little shit who just got lucky enough to get the jump on his victims.

There was no sense in wasting his time around here, he needed to be hitting up his contacts, finding any lead he could scrape up before-

Frank’s concentration was cut off by an annoying laugh from not too far away. Frank got his .38 ready just to be safe; anyone laughing like that at 2 a.m. had to be either high or up to no good. Frank cautiously walked into the small area that was hidden by trees and shrubbery. He looked down and saw a faceless woman staring back up at him with a baby doll lying right next to her lifeless body. He checked her pulse to make sure, but her heart must have given out just before he’d arrived.

“Fuck,” Frank said, kicking himself for not being able to save another victim. He decided to have a go at the crime scene before the cops botched it, but before he could something hit him from behind and knocked him forward. Before he could see who was attacking, a kick landed in his jaw. Frank could have sworn he heard a jingling as another kick landed in his stomach, knocking him onto his back.

Frank rubbed his jaw and looked around. It was a dark area and whoever was attacking knew how to use their size to their advantage. He quickly got to his feet and reached for his gun when a dart landed in his neck. He pulled it out and let it fall to the ground as he heard insane laughter.

Another kick knocked the gun out of his hand, but this time Frank caught the purple leg that had swung at him and tossed the person around and to the ground. Frank held his head, feeling slightly dizzy. There was something in the dart. Hopefully Frank was strong enough to not be affected too quickly by whatever it was.

The attacker quickly recovered and came punching and swinging at Frank. Had Frank not just been drugged, he’d have been able to hold his own, but the paralyzing agent was quickly taking over his body. Another punch to the stomach landed Frank on his back once again. Frank could barely move his body as his attacker landed right on top of stomach.

Frank could see the man was dressed in purple and green tights from head to toe, with pointed shoes that jingled. He was wearing a jester’s hat whose eight arms were dangling like a sinister creature, as if they were moving of their own free will. The man’s face was covered in white makeup, with black lipstick in the shape of a hideous grin. There were black markings over his eyes and a blood red clown nose on his face. The man’s eyes were solid yellow with a hint of black in the iris.

Laughter came from the man as he sat down on top of Frank’s stomach.

“Come on, Punisher,” the Jester said in an evil tone as he pulled out a needle. He then opened his mouth wide and bared his teeth, which were yellow and sharpened fangs.”Give us a smile!”