1964-02-27 - Punishment
Summary: The Devil vs. The Punisher - Round One
Related: None
Theme Song: None
daredevil frank 


"I'm not in the mood for this, Tony." A gravely voice calls after a man who slips in an alley gutter and crashes to the ground. The man, Tony, is rather heavy set, with a round belly, and crimson cheeks and nose from a recent bender. Tonight, he's scared, his heart is racing, and booze sweats out of his pores. "I-I thought you were dead! L-leave me the hell alone!" Tony's voice trembles as he frantically pushes up off the ground and starts running again.

"Once. Got over it." The voice explains half-heartedly, striding calmly in Tony's direction, his boots 'thunk'ing and 'squish'ing across concrete and slush alike. "Stop running, old man. You're heart will give out. I need to talk to you." Still, Tony runs.

*

From his perch on high, Daredevil can hear the interaction between the gravely voiced man and Tony. For a few moments he listens intently, ensuring that it's something he should interfere with. It's the steps that tell Daredevil he's needed. The frantic pace. And, also, the heavy breathing.

Daredevil flings himself off of the edge of the building and disappears into the night.

*

"Stay the fuck away from me, Frank! I-I didn't do anything to you! Never!" Tony huffs before slapping face first into a brick wall. Dead End. Whimpering, the portly man turns, staring down the shadows of the narrow passage, listening as the steps creep closer, and closer, echoing off the walls even as the world beyond them is still bright and loud. "No. But you hear things. If you didn't do anything, why are you running, Tony?"

Finally, the man giving chase stops walking and towers a few few away from him. Dressed in black, the only show of his face comes from the sudden flash of a lighter and then soon glowing cherry if a cigarette. Clink, the lighter flicks shut, tucking away into one of the man's pocket as she drags on the cancer-stick and exhales out the side of his lips.

"Wh-what do you want with me!"

"Just answers, Tony. Christ. Relax before you shit yourself."

"Answers to what?!"

"If you had just waited for me to talk in the bar, you wouldn't be standing out here, freezing, like an idiot." The man in black pauses. "The Gnuccis. Tell me…they back in town?"

*

Daredevil keeps his distance. Rather than join in right away he sticks silently to the shadows, waiting, listening, and soaking in all of the assaults to his senses. Especially the cigarette smoke, which bothers him. He listens for tell-tale signs. This "Frank" and his heart rate or the sound of pulling a gun or other weaponthe sound of Tony's heart going into cardiac arrestanything at all that would make him jump into action. But he waits because this may be some good information to have.

*

"H-how…I don't know!" Tony blubbers. "I don't know what you're talking about." The one known as Frank nurses his smoke, his heart is steady, thumping away at a normal pace, but at the very hint that said Gnuccis are active, it skips, then regulates. He doesn't speak, not yet anyway, leaving the large man to tremble against the wall, fearing for the worst, letting his mind run away with him. Frank paces idly, smoking away; he smells of gun oil, hard whiskey, and as of recently, fresh wounds. Gunshots, three locations, each hastily treated for the time being.

"You don't know, huh?" He finally questions, flicking the smoke down to the ground and snuffing it out under the heel of his boot. "Do I need to jog your memory, Tony?"

"N-no! Please! You can't do this, Frank! They'll kill me if I talk!"

Frank then chuckles, the tone oddly a soothing baritone, but foreboding as well. "Oh, Tony. Tony, Tony, Tony…" Then he's moving on the man with a quickened gait. "They won't get the chance."

*

It's the words that tell Matt this is about to get serious. When Frank makes his move towards Tony, Daredevil pulls the baton from its holster. In one fluid motion he releases it and aims it for the back of the man in black's head. Rather than wait for the shot, Daredevil follows, hoping to aim a kick towards the assailant when and if he turns around.

*

Frank didn't know about the Devil, at least not this version of him. The sudden crack of something against his skull, met with a twist and kick, causes him to shuffle back in place and rub at the crown of his head. "The hell…?" He grumbles, dark eyes glaring forward at the figure in red, then back toward Tony. "Look, pal, I don't know who the hell you are, but this isn't any of your business. You leave the city for a few decades and everyone suddenly starts wearing masks."

Tsking, he pulls his hand away, looking at his fingers, making sure now blood was brought to the surface. "You on their pay roll? The Gnuccis? That why you give a damn about trash like him?" Frank questions, thumbing toward Tony who hasn't moved from his spot. If anything, the arrival of the horned figure has caused a leak which starts trickling down his pants leg.

*

Daredevil's head stands tilted oddly, almost like an animal, as he stares down Frank. "Leave him for the cops," he says quietly towards Frank. "From the sound of it, you were going to kill him." He doesn't answer whether he's working for the Gnucci's. The entire idea is ridiculous to him, and so much so, that he doesn't feel like he should even acknowledge it.

*

Gambit has partially disconnected.

*

"The cops?" Frank stares. "You serious? Jesus, son…you got a lot to learn." Moving closer to Tony, he grabs the man by his collar and tosses him in Matt's direction. "Leave him to the cops, for what? They'll arrest him for pissing himself? For being a drunk, lard-ass, that's a waste of space, and life? Sure. I bet they'll come runnin', just like they do for the rest of the filth that just washes over this city. Good job, flatfoots." He snarks, his lip curling up in a snarl as Tony stumbles on his way toward the Devil.

"Kill him? Maybe. Depends on how much he talks. To me, that's fair." A pause. "Now, get the hell out of my way, Red. This doesn't concern whatever the hell you are."

*

"He deserves a trial," Daredevil responds defiantly. "Everyone deserves justice. And you don't decide that, Frank." Daredevil doesn't come forward, but as Tony approaches, he prepares to put his body between the fat man and the smoker. "If he hasn't done anything wrong, you shouldn't be threatening his life."

*

"A trial?" Frank blinks, clearly bewildered by this figure in red with horns. "Well, you're right about one thing, everyone deserves justice. Ain't it a shame that most that get it are the ones that break the law instead of the ones that suffered from it?" Stalking forward, he watches as their bodies shift, and Tony takes his chance to get the hell out of dodge. Growling, Frank stares after the fleeing figure before looking back Matt's direction. Without a second through, his head slams down, aiming to connect with the Devil's own and right on the bridge of his nose. Now in a stance, the fists make a show, hooking toward the Devil's sides, trying to dig deep and batter at important organs not protected by bones. "Anything wrong? You don't know shit, boy. That man you let get away? The one who deserves a 'trial' and 'justice'? Beats the hell out of his old lady every time he's on a bender. Even has pictures of kids he sells for scratch. Where's your justice now?"

*

Daredevil staggers backward as his nose begins to bleed from Frank's smash. Stupid. He should have been expecting that. Just as he gets his footing, Frank drives two hands into his body, doing harm to his ribs. Horn head hits the pavement and is clearly in pain. Unafraid and unwilling to give up, he drives his foot upwards, looking to bury it in Frank's junk. "Right there."

*

Frank grunts. He feels the pressure between his thighs, but the Devil's foot would have met something hard, something…protective. Apparently, the Devil wasn't the first to try and ruin Castle's day by attacking his boys. "You dirty son of a…" He gruffs, gripping at the Devil's ankle with a bruised mit and rolling his torso to give his limb a forceful twist. "You working for those low lifes, huh? That why you give a fuck about someone like Tony Gizelle?"

*

Daredevil's leg twists but the lawyer is ready for it. He rolls with Frank, rather than against him, so much so he hopes that the former military man over extends himself. Because he's twisting over and bringing a roundhouse kick toward the other side of Frank's head!

*

Underestimating your opponent was fair enough, and could happen to both sides. Following forward and losing some balance, the rest of his body crashes down into the muck thanks to the solid force of a boot against his face. Fingers down, he pushes up, quickly, and gives a shake of his head. Spitting out puddle water, he drags the sleeve of his coat across his eyes, cleaning them as best he can before moving back onto the attack. A scoop of slush in his hands is tossed toward the Devil's eyes, and as it flies, he shoots forwad, fists back to their assault, strikes flying toward his head, shoulders, chest, ribs, and stomach.

*

Oddly, the muck hits Daredevil right in the face, but there's no slowdown. And as the punches start coming, Frank might be surprised as to how fast he is. He dodges the shot to the head and shoulders, blocks the hand away from the chest, ribs, and the stomach. He's on the defense now, but the man in red is incredibly fast.

*

Surprise. Something noted in the back of his mind. That was odd. He doesn't let up, still pressing forward with swing after swing, practiced and patient. A hand moves up and around, trying to grip at the back of the man's head and pull it down to a waiting, jutting up knee.

*

Daredevil is caught by the hands of the Punisher and brought down on the knee. He's quick enough where a slight sidestep makes him avoid the full brunt of the knee, but it hurts and it hurts bad. Worse, his head is still caught in those mighty hands. And, still worse, Daredevil is dazed.

*

With a growl and a grunt, Frank hugs his arm around the Devil's throat, tucking his head under his pit and then falls back, meaning to take his head with him and drive it into the concrete below them. His heart is racing with the activity, and he smells of sweat now that brushes and stains against leather. There's something else, too, fresh blood from opening wounds; the substance holding them together failing thanks to the brawl.

*

Daredevil knows he's in real trouble unless he gets out of here quick. The large man has him, and if Daredevil is going to make his move, it's got to be now. With effor that'd make Battlin' Jack proud, Hornhead unleashes a heavy barrage of fists into all over those opened wounds around Frank's bodyall those he can reachin an attempt to force the man to lose his grip on Matt's head.

*

Frank hisses, a wound was hit over, and over again, causing more crimson to flow and soak through his clothing and body armor. Even as he falls back, attempting to drag the Devil with him, his grip loosens as muscles and tensons twitch from splinters of pain. Dragging a foot back, he stops himself from falling completely, but the deathlock is gone and the towering figure in black shuffles back. Panting, he glares out under his brows toward the Devil. Red washes over his lower lip, staining his teeth, and trickling down his bearded chin. "You don't…want to make an enemy of me, boy. I promise you that…"

*

"The fat man is gone," Daredevil says as he straightens and puts dukes back up. "As far as I'm concerned, I'm just defending myself at this point. Anytime you want to truce…just let me know."

*

Rolling his tongue over his teeth, he spits down at the ground, one hand reaching into his jacket and pressing against his battered wound. "Answer." He demands then in a low gravel. "You with the Gnucci's or not?"

*

"Of course not," Daredevil responds. "But I don't think killing them in the streets is going to do any good either. They'll just replace that guy. You know it and I know it."

*

Frank then stands straighter. His heart rate starts to lower and relax, and that aura of anger and rage ceases to radiate off his very being. "I wasn't going to kill him." The older man explains, giving another spat of saliva and vitae downward. "You ever heard of intimidation before, or are you just that self-rightously ignorant?"

*

Daredevil exhales and straightens. He's still on guard, but he's a little more relaxed. Which is good, because the fight has tired him out. "It looked like you were going to kill him," he responds plainly.

*

"Looked like? I hadn't even touched him." Frank mutters, waving it off with one tired hand as the other keeps hold to his side. "Talking about looks is rather funny coming from a man dressed like you are. I guess I missed the memo. Did Halloween happen here one time and people forgot it was for one day?" A squift snort inward, he clears his throat and sends a clot down into a puddle. "Have a good night, Red. You've taken up far more of my time than I would have liked." Then, he moves forward, stalking toward the alley's mouth to exit back onto the street.

*

"You don't like my outfit?" Daredevil says as he tilts his head with mock incredulity. "How will I ever go on?" He lets Frank go, careful that there's no sneak attack, but mindful that he will need to keep an eye on this one. A close eye.

*

"I suggest more armor. It's like you got lost in your mama's nylons." Frank offers off-handedly. He doesn't attack, or even twitch to do so; the towering figure just walks. His steps are slow, pointed, and limping now and then, but the closer he comes to exiting, the more he forces himself upright, and stoic in expression. "Oh," he pauses. "Get in my way again, Red, and it'll be the last time." Comes the man's warning before he turns to rejoin the shuffling of human traffic.

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