OUT OF THE PAST

Part I

By Tobias Christopher

Twelve Years Ago

Twelve-year-old Chip Carter sat in the chair in his bedroom, breathing heavily, facing away from the computer that he’d recently received for his birthday. He’d been caught trying to phone for help after realizing what was happening to his family. Unfortunately, by this time he had realized that even if his message had gone through it wouldn’t have helped, since his parents had been dead before he even picked up the phone.

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. Those men were dead, their bodies hidden in the bushes out in the backyard.

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 sent 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.

Cries that were silenced when another gunshot sounded from down the hall.

Twenty-four-year-old Chip sat up in his bed, sweating heavily. He slowly raised his hand to the side of his head, feeling the hard metal plate that had been placed in his head. The constant reminder of everything he’d lost on that day. It was a warm night in the city and the air conditioning wasn’t working properly again. The only source of coolness was coming from the small fan sitting next to his bed.

The young computer hacker set his bare feet on the warm wooden floor as he stumbled to the bathroom in his Incredible Hulk themed boxers, flipping the light on as he ran his hands under the cold water in the sink, splashing it onto his face. He looked up and saw his reflection in the mirror, wondering if he ever would truly get the chance to avenge the death of his family.

As he walked out of the bathroom, he saw the flickering glow of the computer screen. For the last few weeks, he’d been doing exactly as Frank Castle had ordered and was researching every last detail of the Punisher’s life. Every kill, every mission, every life rubbed out by the Punisher’s never ending quest to rid the world of crime.

Chip sat down in his chair and scrolled down the current page detailing the Punisher’s mission to wipe out the Gnucci family. As he read the story, his eyes started fluttering, trying to stay awake. He still had a lot of reports to read and a very important decision to make when he’d finished…

Several Months Ago

Nicky Cavella, an up and coming mob boss, eagerly awaited the arrival of his shipment. He wasn’t expecting drugs or illegal arms. Not this time. This time, he was expecting something that was guaranteed to get the Punisher’s attention. Cavella wasn’t exactly a sane man and, when he brought up his plan to destroy Frank Castle before he could destroy Cavella’s mob… well, it took a lot of convincing to get the help he needed to pull it off.

Cavella looked like an ordinary run of the mill mob boss. He had the nice suit, the slicked back black hair and the ‘take no shit’ attitude required to make it in the mob game. But that’s where the similarities between him and other kingpins ended. To understand Nicky Cavella’s state of mind, you had to know what it was like for him growing up…but that’s another story.

It was late in the afternoon when three large crates where shipped into the factory he’d *aquired* after killing the previous owners, but not before making them sign over the lease. The man smiled with glee as he rushed over to the crates, pushing men out of the way. “Is this it? All of it?” asked Cavella in anticipation. “Tell me no one saw you.”

“We got away clear and easy,” the leader of the group said. “As far as anyone can tell, nothing’s missing, just like you wanted.”

“Good, good,” said Cavella as he reached out his hand, practically drooling over what was in the crates. “Crowbar.”

The leader put the crowbar into Cavella’s hand as he whacked the leader in the head, sending blood and teeth flying. “That’s for being over two hours late! I’m on a schedule, damn you!”

Cavella tossed the crowbar away, looking at the rest of his men. “Get back to work! I want these crates opened and the fun toy surprises inside sent to the furniture warehouse! We’ve got a vigilante to torment!”

Today
New York
The Good Ship Lollipop Candy Shop

“Come on, man, just put the candy in your pocket,” the ten-year-old boy said to his friend after making sure the manager wasn’t looking. “The guy’s not even looking, he’ll never miss it.”

“I-I don’t know,” the boy’s friend said nervously. “What if we get caught?”

“Like Spider-Man’s got nothin’ better to do than bust us,” the first boy replied. “We won’t get caught, now stop being a pussy and do it.”

The child looked around before shoving a handful of peanut butter cups into his pocket. His friend smiled as they made their way toward the exit. As they opened the door, they were met with the six-foot frame of Frank Castle. The white skull on his shirt was staring them right in the face as the two boys started to nervously tremble, knowing who he was from the news reports.

As the Punisher looked at them it was only a matter of seconds before they cracked once Frank’s sight was set on them. It was enough to cause one of them to start urinating, creating a puddle on the floor. “I’m sorry!” the boy shouted as he tossed the peanut butter cups to the floor. “Don’t kill me!”

Frank looked at them and held out his hand. “Wallets.”

The boys handed over their wallets as Frank took their student ID’s, tucking them into his pocket after looking at their names, tossing their wallets back at them.

“I know who you are, now,” said Frank as he looked between the boys, “and within the hour I’ll know where you live. If either of you ever commits a crime again, I’ll know right where to go…now go home and never let me catch you doing this again.”

The kids ran past Frank, crying as they went home. He had no intention of following up on them, but it was better to scare them straight now for stealing candy than to have to do worse things to them in fifteen years for doing far worse crimes. He approached the counter where the overweight man was stocking the shelves. The man turned around and smiled.

“Mr. Castle,” Mr. Bumpo said as he smiled at Frank. “What brings you back to this neighborhood?”

“I need some supplies,” replied Frank as he pulled out some money. “I talked to Spacker Dave recently and he was dropping hints left and right that you had an extra room added on. I wouldn’t come here in broad daylight, but I won’t have time later.”

Spacker Dave had used the money Frank had given him from taking down the Gnucci family and started his own gaming company, producing new video game tittles that made Grand Theft Auto look like My Little Pony. Frank had recently run into him while pursuing a lead to a drug ring. Mr. Bumpo, after having another quadruple bypass from eating his weight in pizza—in one sitting—decided to start thinking healthier and used the rest of the money to open a candy store, while trying to stay on a proper diet. To date he’s lost a total of twenty pounds.

“Your money’s no good here, Mr. Castle,” said Mr. Bumpo as he walked over to the door, flipping the sign to closed. He walked back to the counter and pushed a button, causing a hidden wall to open. “The whole reason I had this room built was for you. After all, it was the money you left behind for us that helped pay for it. Figured you’d be back this way someday, so I had this room built on as a precaution.”

A neon blue glow covered the room, revealing a panic room that was fully armed. Frank looked around at all the weapons. “No one else knows about this?”

“Just you and Dave,” Mr. Bumpo replied, “and I threatened to pull out his new piercing if he told anyone else.”

“That’s odd, I didn’t see any piercings on Dave when I talked to him,” said Frank as he started gathering up some small handguns.

“It’s… not a piercing that you want to know about,” said Mr. Bumpo as Frank thought about it for a second before going back to his shopping, loading up on everything that he could pack onto his body and the knapsack he was holding. As Frank finished, Mr. Bumpo handed him a piece of paper. “The security codes to enter the panic room over there if you ever need to get in when I’m not here.”

“You know this place makes you a target,” said Frank as they exited the room. “Hell, knowing the color of my eyes makes you a target.”

“I’ve eaten my weight in pizza, Frank; I’ve done more than one man can ask for in life,” Mr. Bumpo replied as the two shook hands. “Take care, Mr. Castle.”

“You, too,” replied Frank as he headed for the exit. “By the way, some kid pissed on your floor.”

Chip took one last look at his studio apartment that he’d shared with his friend Connor. All of his stuff had been put in storage except the clothes in his backpack and the laptop in his hands. Chip stood there for a minute, wondering if he really was ready to throw everything away to become Frank’s assistant.

Then he remembered his parents, and his baby brother, and Connor. Everyone he cared about, taken away by crime. He knew this was the path he had to take now. He turned the light off and closed the door, leaving his old life behind him as he headed for the bus station.

Frank looked through his binoculars at the old dilapidated factory where the drug ring he’d been tracking was being running out of. The ring was still very young but, if left unchecked, was going to poison every child in the city. After receiving a tip two months back and following it from there, Frank discovered that the plan was to start coating candy with a drug that would be instantly addicting. After ingesting enough of it, anyone who ate enough of the candy would start dropping dead, but by then thousands could be addicted. Someone had created a drug that couldn’t be detected or proven to be addictive and was going to use it to do as much damage as possible by introducing it to the general public without their knowledge. That was the other reason he went to Bumpo’s first, to make sure that his old acquaintance hadn’t been caught up in this mess.

As Frank waited for the right time to move, he couldn’t help but think how much easier this might be if Chip actually was working with him. It’d be nice to know the exact layout of the place, as well as any unexpected surprises that would inevitably show up. He still wasn’t sure if he wanted the young man to join him in his war, as working with anyone automatically made them a target.

Normally Frank worked with those he could trust his life or who could least defend themselves in a clench. He wasn’t sure if Chip fell into either category yet.

Then he thought about Linus Lieberman. The man he’d called Microchip. The man he’d called friend.

Their friendship ended when Frank found out that Linus had gone corrupt. The last Frank had seen of him, he’d been shot and left for dead in a warehouse explosion. He should have made sure Lieberman was dead, but part of Frank still wanted to think that the man he trusted for all those years wasn’t capable of the crimes Frank had discovered him doing towards the end.

Shelving those thoughts, Frank looked down at his watch. It was time.

Chip stared out the window as the bus continued towards New York. Outside of the old woman sitting towards the front of the bus, who was asleep, there was no one else there except the driver. It was around 2 a.m. and Chip was glad for the near privacy.

He was hoping that the ride wouldn’t last too much longer, as he wanted to see if Frank really would show up at the bar. Part of him wished Frank wouldn’t show up, that he’d forget to meet Chip and things would get back to normal. But then, Chip realized there was no going back to normal. He’d already given up his apartment, he’d dropped out of college just months short of receiving his degree, and he had no family to turn to. There was no going back. All he had to look forward to was life working with the Punisher.

Chip had opened up his laptop and started looking at a few more articles of the Punisher’s recent activities when he heard a familiar voice. “You know he’s going to get you killed,” a young voice said from in front of him.

Chip closed his eyes. Not again. It had been months since something like this had happened. Ever since he’d woken up in that hospital room six years ago, he’d had to deal with this. That’s why he’d started taking medication to suppress it. That was why this was happening now…he’d forgotten to take the medication. It was probably packed in with his things in the storage unit

“Go away, I don’t need this right now,” pleaded Chip. “Please. I can’t talk to you now.”

“You’re going to end up like me,” the voice coming from the seat in front of him said. You’re going to end up like Mom and Dad. You know, you never even come to visit us,” the voice continued.

“It’s… too painful,” replied Chip as he looked down at his monitor. He’d never gone to visit his family’s graves. He never even bothered to learn where they were buried. “Please, just leave me alone. I’m doing this for you.”

It was then that a twelve-year-old boy with reddish blonde hair poked his head up from the seat in front of Chip. He looked a lot like Chip Carter had at that age, right down the bullet hole in the side of his head. Fresh blood was flowing down the side of the boy’s open wound as he looked down at the older brother who’d promised to protect him…and failed. Chip could see the exposed brain of his little brother just sitting there inside of the wound, a reminder of that horrible day.

“Really? Because it’s been twelve years,” the boy said. “Or have you just been sitting on your ass waiting for someone like the Punisher to take this guy out for you? I’d like to be avenged before I hit puberty.”

“No, he’s not going to kill the guy who did this to you,” replied Chip as he closed his laptop. “I am. He’s not going to get away with what he did to you.”

“If you say so,” the boy said as he sat back down in his seat.

“Wait,” said Chip as he looked over the seat, seeing just an empty space. He sat back in his own seat, making a note to get some new medication. It wasn’t the sight of his little brother’s wound that was upsetting. It was the fact that he’d failed to keep him safe.

Frank had managed to make his way into the factory, crawling in through one of the air ducts. As he went along, he placed a few charges that he’d set off as he was leaving. He wasn’t just going to take out the drug ring, he was going to blow the whole factory to get rid of anything that could be salvaged be future wannabe drug lords. As he came to the end of the vent, Frank spotted two men standing guard, armed and waiting for any intruders.

“So, did you see that hot chick at the bar last night?” asked Jerry as he looked ahead. “The one that kept bending over to get my attention? She looked like a real slut. The things I’d do to that-”

“Dude, that was my little sister,” Ian replied as he looked over at his partner, unaware the vent grate was being pulled open. “You didn’t—”

“No, she left with a few other guys,” said Jerry with a smirk. “Lucky bastards.”

“That’s not cool. I don’t talk about fucking your sister,” replied Ian angrily as Frank started to lower himself down.

“No, you talk about fucking my brother,” said Jerry as Ian shrugged his shoulders. As Ian turned away, Frank’s legs wrapped around Jerry’s neck.

“Did you put in a good word for me with him like I asked?” asked Ian hopefully as he heard a loud crack. He turned around to see his partner’s body hit the ground. He pulled out his gun as Frank kicked him, causing Ian to drop his gun. Frank dropped to the ground and punched Ian to the ground. Before he could get up, Frank grabbed the man, snapping his neck, not wanting any gunfire to give away his presence.

Frank made his way deeper into the heart of the factory, planting more charges as he went. His sixth sense was telling him something was wrong. It was too easy getting this far with only a few guards. Something was up, he just didn’t know what.

As he found the production area he looked around, seeing only a few people on the assembly line, coating some small chocolate candies with what looked like a caramel-like cream. The area was darkly lit but he could still get a good shot at them. He got ready to fire when all the lights suddenly came on. Frank moved and quickly hid behind one of the machines as he heard a laugh coming from over a microphone.

“We know you’re here, Mr. Castle,” a voice said. “You might as well show yourself. We were wondering how many more weeks we’d have to wait for you to come visit our factory.”

Great, thought Frank as he planted another charge on the machine he was behind. One way or another, this place was going down.

“Do you have any idea how long it took to set this whole thing up?” asked the voice over the loudspeaker. “Literally two years of planning, putting just the right people in just the right place so you could squeeze them for the info leading you here. It’s not easy manipulating the Punisher, but we did it.”

“You talk too much,” said Frank as he fired at the loudspeaker, shorting it out. The workers pulled out their guns and started firing as Frank ducked under a table.

In another room, the man who’d set all this up smiled as he watched the security camera. “Don’t disappoint me, Frank,” said Nicky Cavella as he ate a bag of popcorn. “Come and get me.”

After a brief shootout, Frank emerged victorious as the drug makers on the assembly line lay dead on the products they were making. It was easy enough to figure out where to find the control room; whoever was behind this was leaving an obvious trail to find him. Moments later, as Frank kicked open the door, he saw a chair facing out the window.

“Come on in,” said the man, facing away from Frank.

Now Frank knew it was a trap. The second he stepped into the room, he’d fall through the floor or be shot with a tranq dart. Frank raised his gun and got ready to fire when a powerful electric charge on the threshold of the door activated, weakening Frank enough to get him on his knees.

Cavella laughed as he turned away from the window, facing Frank. “Tsk, tsk. You should have seen that coming.”

As Frank started to get up, Cavella grabbed a baseball bat and hit Frank in the face, knocking him onto his back. Frank groaned as Cavella sighed to himself, watching Frank start to get up.

“The man’s got the constitution of a vending machine,” said Cavella as he struck Frank with the bat again. After several more hits, Frank was out and Cavella laughed wildly. “Oh, that was fun! But not as much fun as what’s coming next.”

Cavella pushed a button the intercom. “Ms. Wiggins, bring Mr. Castle a chair.”

“My name’s Micheal, sir,” the voice replied. Cavella walked out of the room and, seconds later, the sounds of a brutal beating were heard, including the sounds of bones being crushed. Cavella walked back into the room calmly, blood now staining his nice suit and sat behind his desk, pushing the button on the intercom. “Ms. Wiggins, I believe I requested a chair for Mr. Castle.”

“Coming… coming right up, sir,” the voice on the other end replied in a weakened tone.

“It’s good to be boss,” Cavella smiled to himself as he leaned back.

To Be Continued…