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The spark of metal across metal is accompanied by the same sound, the blade being taken across the spinning wheel as it is sharpened. The glimmer of light illuminates well in the warehouse area that Frank Castle has claimed as a workshop.
There is weaponry of course, crates of various ammunition and explosives, a few vehicles as well. This is one of his primary storage places where he keeps the Punisher operation alive from; a veritable warhouse as opposed to Warehouse. Were it the modern era, ATF would have a field day, fortunately such concerns aren't as dominant at present. Music is playing, loudly through speakers hooked up to a record player to provide a bit of ambiance while the man works dilligently on preparing. There is no other way to describe it, it is preperation; and in a place like this, it is preperation for war.
*
The earlier dinner was vacated with Jean leaving the restaurant. And returning. Two big ass, rib eye steak dinners to go, still popping hot and fresh. It really wasn't too hard to find the warehouse where Frank had holed himself up, she had imprinted upon him like some sort of animal, nearly adapted his personality into her own. He was a dirty little secret that reared it's ugly head when she went off on everyone at dinner, and even Charles himself.
The door handle was gripped, her head tilted ever so slightly as she hears the sounds within. And.. for some reason, she takes the wise step of actually banging upon the door instead of bursting in like she would. It was quiet. A nudge given to him from inside of his mind. She would let him know immediately that it was her, without calling out at all. She was abusing her powers more and more lately, without a little bit of care.
*
The initial sound at the door is met with a whirl and a gun aimed in the direction of it. However, spotting the annoyance making her usual appearance, it is holstered back away under the table and Frank turns back to sharpening the knife for a few more moments before cutting the spinning wheel. Reaching up, he pulls away the goggles for safety and sets them down. "Jesus, don't I get a single fucking place to myself anymore?" The question is piped towards the woman as he reaches over to turn down; not off, the music.
*
Her eyes lift to pinpoint the barrel of the gun, then shifts to meet his face as she slams the door behind her. She was used to the reception, but with the way that she was currently dressed? She wasn't expecting it. Her dress was skin-tight and green, matching the color of her eyes. A little bit too fancy for the person who wears it but she does. Even as her hair, long as it was, were curled. Too bad she wasn't in heels.
She walks towards him, bag of food in hand, which was dropped upon the work bench close by. "Guess not." She says with a slight mutter, leaning upon it, the bag soon nudged towards him. "Though, you could do us both a favor and shut the fuck up and eat your goddamned food."
*
It is more of the appearance and disposition of Jean that draws out a raised eyebrow towards the woman as Castle looks her over and tilts his head a moment later. The language sounded far too much… like him. It was a bit surprising. "The hell crawled up your ass?" He asks, setting the work aside and going to straddle the work bench and peek into the bag of food. Like any good male, it begins with bringing him food and oooh. Steak!
*
Yup. Steak. One of those fancily cooked steaks with shitake mushrooms glazed over with some rich and fancy alcohol with veggies on the side. Not to mention, a container of froo froo mashed potatoes with some weird ass garnish. "Some guy with a white face and red eyes." Jean states, slowly slipping off her flat shoes to lift herself upon the bench with a push. Her feet idly swing as she looks down them, and it was clear that she wasn't really in the mood to talk about it, but.. since she was there? "What are you working on?"
*
"Operation." Frank explains in one word. He nods towards a map not too far away, tactically laid out and all the other fun stuff that he has the tendency to do when preparing to turn a city block into a warzone. How he hasn't killed bystanders is a mystery really. "Where the hell did you eat at? This isn't your usual bribe food. Either you did something real good, or real bad."
*
Jean hops down from the table, moving over towards the map to look over it with a press of her hands. Each corner was studied, her bottom lip poking out as she lifts a hand to press against a dot, but figuring it better to not ask. "Now?" She does ask that, turning back towards him to watch him eat. "La Caravelle. Swank restaurant uptown." If she had done something good or bad? She wondered if that really even mattered. "I got my friends together for a quiet night. And.. probably blew up all of those friendships half an hour in." She shrugs her shoulders. "It's whatever. I don't care."
*
"Tonight, yes." Frank responds to her question of 'Now'. Which means tonight could be anywhere from immediately soon to 6 hours away. "And bullshit you don't care. All you do is care. You don't bring nice food to a shithole like this and an asshole like me unless you're fishing for something." Seems Frank is definitely recovered from that cold thing he had been dealing with, granted his tone is made a little harsher due to the fact he is eating presently. "Friends are overrated."
*
Jean lets out a little bit of a sniff, turning to approach the bench yet again. His words, harsh as they were, were something that she needed to hear but possibly at the wrong moment. "I'm fishing for a goddamned fight.." The nice little jacket that she wore, shrugged off and laid upon the bench, and with a step back, she begins to look around and rifle through the tools there. "So, I'm coming with you. Tell me what you want me to do and how you want me to do it."
Friends are overrated? Somewhat.. but she misses them already. She wouldn't dare tell him that. "You were much nicer when you were sick."
*
"Because Iw as sick. When youa re sick, you aren't yourself." Frank responds with a grunt towards Jean, working through some of the carbs of the potatoes. "You want to help? This is one of my jobs Red. My jobs which involve, you know, eliminating the bad guys, not putting them into timeout. That's not the sort of thing you help out with."
*
"You need to get sick more often. Then I wouldn't have to deal with your bitching whenever I try to feed you." She wasn't snappish, her words were muttered, and once she finds a boxcutter, she bends a little to the side to begin to shred her dress. An expensive dress. One that she's stolen for the night. Just like the food that he was eating.
"Then I'll just watch your back and make sure that they don't put you into timeout, how about that?" She says quietly, finishing with the shredding of her clothing, a few scraps that she takes from the ground fashioned into a long band. The band was soon wrapped around the thick of her hair, tugged, and pulled into a high pony tail. While she looks rather silly, she continues with bandaging her hair around into a knot. And to explain.. "So no one could grab it." Her hair, that is.
*
"That is your concern. That no one pulls your hair? What about biting and scratching, you going to take time to prepare for that as well?" Frank asks as he finishes off the steak, a rather good steak at that and sets the empty boxes aside, turning where he is to look at Jean then lifting his shoulders into a shrug. "Staying out of sight, out of the way. Doing what you're told and not questioning my plan. You think you can manage those things?"
*
"Well, I don't want anyone to snatch my head back and slit my throat." Jean answers honestly. She's had a nightmare like that before. Someone came up behind her and..
But she finishes with her preparations, (this is how the marvel girl outfit came about), her shoes slipped on again as she moves towards the table, the jacket.. well.. it was left by the wayside, she was going to need her arms.
"Yes. I can do that. Won't say a thing." Her fingers lift, pinching around her lips to mock-zip them shut.
*
Frank grunts again, not sounding like he's overly believing of her sentiments before he shrugs and nods. "Very well, you think you can do it. Just don't get shot because once things start, I won't be able to stop and take care of you. That'll get other people killed. Plans are carefully laid out." As he finishes talking he gets up, starting to walk over to the car that is sitting nearby, a newerish model of car with a large trunk and comfy seats.
*
Jean steps forward, quickly falling into line as she tries to keep up with his quick strides. "Frank. Wait.. Frank.." She tries to reach out to grab his wrist, and if she gets him, she'd quick move in front of him. She was going to say something meaningful, but it just falls short. She was all in scorched earth mode, so saying anything at the moment would just make her feel even worse. "Nevermind." Was quietly said as she turns to get into the passenger seat of the car. She was quiet. Not nervous. Just brooding.
*
Don't need to be no telepath to know that something was there on the girl's mind. Something beneath the surface and so Frank slid into the driver's seat of the car, threw on the headlights and led it out of the garage into the city proper. Silence remains for awhile as he navigates traffic before finally speaking. "Ain't got no time for distractions. Better do yourself a favor and repent up, spill your guts, else you'll be regrettin'."
*
There was silence, her eyes drawn out the window, her hand reaching to press against it as the buildings, peoples.. cars pass them by. Of course she was quiet, her eyes fluttering closed as she presses her head against it with a slight little sigh. "In case I die? Last minute confessional?" She shakes her head. "People can go through -so- much shit and not say a word, but then they really want to speak and talk about it and find out they can't. Then.. they have to suffer in silence." She didn't know what she was getting at.
"I'm tired of being weak and someone needing protecting. I want to fight back. This shit is unacceptable Frank. I'm too old to be someones baby."
*
"Yup." Frank responds about as deep as he possibly can, still driving but thinking in silence for a bit. "You are too old to be someone's baby. But, you also like it. You like being the damsel in distress because it gives you an excuse. See. You fuck up, someone rescues you, everythign is ok. You're in charge and you fuck up." His eyes look at her, "What then?" His eyes drift back to the road.
"I've seen a lot of good soldiers die because their commanders didn't want to lead. And a lot of good leaders hide, because they believed they weren't able to do what they needed to. Only reason you're weak is because you let yourself be weak. Ain' no other way around it."
*
She nods faintly as she listens, her own eyes upon the road.. "I'll be blamed.." She says quietly, then sighs.
"And you're right. I know I'm better than this, stronger than this. But there's this.. block." She gestures at her head, but lets it go. "I'm over it. Frank. It's now or never before it's actually never."
*
"You think we all don't have blocks?" Frank responds, the car slowing down some as it enters into a parking garage. "Everyone has a block, a distraction, something that keeps them from completing the Mission." The way he says Mission, it doesn't sound like just a job or duty, but the encompassing purpose of existing. "Prey or Predators." A glance is given to Jean as he reaches over past her to the glove compartment and opens it. As if on queue, someone walks up to the window on her side to look in. The gun pulled from the compartment is aimed up, from Jean's lap, and a silenced shot is delivered to the man's head. A hole in the window appears and the smell of gunsmoke begins to fill the space.
"That's why you can't do what I do, Red. This isn't your Mission."
*
"Do you?" She asks quietly. Her gaze upon his intently. Her jaw clenches as she watches his hand move towards the glove compartment, and soon towards the man who looks into the window. She doesn't lean forward, but she does reach for the handle to try to roll the window down, until the shot rings out and the man falls down to the ground.. Jean completely shocked.
She couldn't hear him, the sound of the gunblast dulling the enviroment around him, her mouth hung open as she tries to speak, her gaze frantically looking into Frank's, her entire resolve nearly and ready to crumble right then and there. But this is exactly what he meant! She couldn't do what he does. Not in a million years! Willingly take a life without a chance to exhaust -all- choices..
But it was too late, she couldn't run.. she couldn't scream. She made a promise.
*
"Not anymore." Frank responds after a moment, closing the glove compartment and putting the gun back inside of it. "Blocks are for people who need a reason to hesitate. A reason to wait. I see my Mission, I carry out my Mission. That's why until you overcome whatever Block you think you have… you'll be helpless, at least to yourself." He reaches over to the door handle and turns it. "This is your stop. You can't handle the rest of this Red. There's no shame in that, at all. You're a good person. A person with a soul still."
*
ROLL: Jean +rolls 1d50 for a result of: 50
*
She couldn't stop looking at him. Her eyes were near vacant, almost as if she were coming to grips with what had just happened. She won't be able to accept it, no.. not then. But now… She nearly falters, her body shaking, her lips trembling as she reaches for the door. And with a sudden tug and pull, she slams it shut.
"Frank.. you probably won't see me again after tonight.. but you have to know.." She speaks quietly, quickly. Something that only one other person in this world knows about her.. and he would too. "Thi… this thing inside of me. She wants to take me away from here. Before I go, I just want to protect someone. Even if it's you. While I'm still myself." Her hands lift, pressing against her temple, her eyes closing. He may not see it, but the entire car itself fades away from existence. No mind nearby would hear the sound of the motor, they would not see Jean and Frank. It was just -gone-.
"There are so many of them here.. Frank. Go.. they won't be able to see us." She pauses. "GO!"
*
Frank looks at Jean, hesitates just a moment then nods, opening his cardoor and slipping out. The trunk opens then as well, something pulled out of it and then it slams shut and he is gone. Off to do, what it is he does. Punishes people. For the good of all, the burden and sin he carries.
*