Post by Punisher on May 12, 2006 14:37:11 GMT -5
“Anything to Declare”
It was late morning, about two and three quarter’s hours earlier Frank had killed a man. Two and a half hours earlier he had come close to killing Captain America. The day, it would seem, was quite eventful. JFK was, as it always is, filled with New Yorkers and the other filth of the world running like head less chickens, trying hopelessly to make their flights.
Frank was in no rush to make his flight, they will wait for me Frank thought to him self as he strode through the airport. Rules state that no fire arms should be carried on planes, the rules did not matter to Frank. As Frank checked in, as Frank showed his ticket and has Frank waited for his flight to be called he did not declare that on his person lie, hidden by his trench coat, one Desert Eagle, two Uzi submachine guns and an M79 grenade launcher. Frank wasn’t just carrying a fire arm, he was carrying a war. Frank was a person of Mass destruction.
The phone in Frank’s coat vibrated silently, it was answered quickly
“Speak”
A sly smile arrived on Frank’s face, the news he hadn’t been expecting was very good news indeed.
“All of them?”
Frank paused, the feeling of excitement did not greet him often.
“You have done well. Therein lays your thanks.”
Frank arose out of his seat and walked towards the exit, his speed increasing with every step. He couldn’t control his excitement. He would show them, he would show them all not to mess with the Punisher. They would learn, Captain America would learn.
Stop! a voice shattered through the dull roar of the faceless crowd, Frank ignored the shouts and continued toward the exit, the door now visible.
Stop! the voice screamed again, the crowd froze, Frank’s path blocked. He did not have time for this. The excitement turned to anger, anger he had already felt today, anger whoever was shouting would feel.
Stop! You are surrounded! Frank stopped and turned, he was indeed surrounded. Stop! The crowd which once encircled Frank how was dispersing, dispersing fast. Frank looked down; the weapons which were once concealed were now on full view. Frank was a person of mass destruction and now everyone knew about it. This could end badly Frank thought to himself, not for me though. Frank laughed, drawing the Desert Eagle, the five security guards now visible. Only Five Frank was disappointed. It didn’t matter, they didn’t matter, they were just a distraction.
Put the weapon down! Put the weapon down, scumbag!
“No”
Frank’s message was clear, his message was simple. And then it was over, it didn’t take more than five shots, well that’s a lie, five shots and then M79 shot as Frank ran towards the exit. They were all dead, all the security, all the people just trying to catch their flights. The confusion of the explosion and the emotion of the people allowed Frank to escape practically undetected; the day was indeed turning out to be quite eventful. As for the death, the people, well it didn’t matter to Frank, it never did.
39th Street and Second Avenue
Frank was back in the city. Frank was going to make a statement, their idiocy would cost them, it would cost them all. He was now on 39th Street and Second Avenue, the skyscraper that faced him a towering monument to the media and its extremism, its opinions and its views, views that strike fear into the people, that control their lives. This town isn’t big enough for the both of us; I’m the one that strikes fear Frank thought to himself not the Daily Bugle .
Frank made not attempt to be inconspicuous, the large white skull on the front of his shirt saw to that, but this mission had to be well planed, it was well planned. Frank was now carrying a back pack over his shoulder in addition to the weapons under his trench coat, they would be necessary .
The lift first took Frank down to the printing press; the foundations of the building, Frank would leave them a little present to remember him by. The back pack he was carrying was full of explosives, C-4 to be precise, and Frank wasn’t economical with the portions. It was then up to the editorial floors. The staff were on their lunch break by the time they he had reached the floor, it didn’t matter to Frank, he would have killed them, they’ll be killed any way . He threw the bag down, under a desk, near a window for maximum effect. Don’t mess with Frank . With his job done he headed to the lift, it was now time to crash a party, a party in which he really wasn’t wanted.
Frank liked it that way.
It was late morning, about two and three quarter’s hours earlier Frank had killed a man. Two and a half hours earlier he had come close to killing Captain America. The day, it would seem, was quite eventful. JFK was, as it always is, filled with New Yorkers and the other filth of the world running like head less chickens, trying hopelessly to make their flights.
Frank was in no rush to make his flight, they will wait for me Frank thought to him self as he strode through the airport. Rules state that no fire arms should be carried on planes, the rules did not matter to Frank. As Frank checked in, as Frank showed his ticket and has Frank waited for his flight to be called he did not declare that on his person lie, hidden by his trench coat, one Desert Eagle, two Uzi submachine guns and an M79 grenade launcher. Frank wasn’t just carrying a fire arm, he was carrying a war. Frank was a person of Mass destruction.
The phone in Frank’s coat vibrated silently, it was answered quickly
“Speak”
A sly smile arrived on Frank’s face, the news he hadn’t been expecting was very good news indeed.
“All of them?”
Frank paused, the feeling of excitement did not greet him often.
“You have done well. Therein lays your thanks.”
Frank arose out of his seat and walked towards the exit, his speed increasing with every step. He couldn’t control his excitement. He would show them, he would show them all not to mess with the Punisher. They would learn, Captain America would learn.
Stop! a voice shattered through the dull roar of the faceless crowd, Frank ignored the shouts and continued toward the exit, the door now visible.
Stop! the voice screamed again, the crowd froze, Frank’s path blocked. He did not have time for this. The excitement turned to anger, anger he had already felt today, anger whoever was shouting would feel.
Stop! You are surrounded! Frank stopped and turned, he was indeed surrounded. Stop! The crowd which once encircled Frank how was dispersing, dispersing fast. Frank looked down; the weapons which were once concealed were now on full view. Frank was a person of mass destruction and now everyone knew about it. This could end badly Frank thought to himself, not for me though. Frank laughed, drawing the Desert Eagle, the five security guards now visible. Only Five Frank was disappointed. It didn’t matter, they didn’t matter, they were just a distraction.
Put the weapon down! Put the weapon down, scumbag!
“No”
Frank’s message was clear, his message was simple. And then it was over, it didn’t take more than five shots, well that’s a lie, five shots and then M79 shot as Frank ran towards the exit. They were all dead, all the security, all the people just trying to catch their flights. The confusion of the explosion and the emotion of the people allowed Frank to escape practically undetected; the day was indeed turning out to be quite eventful. As for the death, the people, well it didn’t matter to Frank, it never did.
39th Street and Second Avenue
Frank was back in the city. Frank was going to make a statement, their idiocy would cost them, it would cost them all. He was now on 39th Street and Second Avenue, the skyscraper that faced him a towering monument to the media and its extremism, its opinions and its views, views that strike fear into the people, that control their lives. This town isn’t big enough for the both of us; I’m the one that strikes fear Frank thought to himself not the Daily Bugle .
Frank made not attempt to be inconspicuous, the large white skull on the front of his shirt saw to that, but this mission had to be well planed, it was well planned. Frank was now carrying a back pack over his shoulder in addition to the weapons under his trench coat, they would be necessary .
The lift first took Frank down to the printing press; the foundations of the building, Frank would leave them a little present to remember him by. The back pack he was carrying was full of explosives, C-4 to be precise, and Frank wasn’t economical with the portions. It was then up to the editorial floors. The staff were on their lunch break by the time they he had reached the floor, it didn’t matter to Frank, he would have killed them, they’ll be killed any way . He threw the bag down, under a desk, near a window for maximum effect. Don’t mess with Frank . With his job done he headed to the lift, it was now time to crash a party, a party in which he really wasn’t wanted.
Frank liked it that way.
