Punisher #10 - Good Ol' Fashioned Fun

Written By: /u/whodeletedmyaccount

Edited By: /u/ElusiveMonty and /u/duelcard

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Frank was slow to rise. He had been drugged before, specialized SERE training saw to that. So as he came to consciousness, he may have acted a little more woozy than he actually was. Getting a good look at his surroundings, his eyes fluttering like a college student waking up from an all night party, he noticed he was in a fairly dark room, somewhere underground if the temperature was anything to go off of. There weren’t any vents so it couldn’t have been A/C. Single entry way with no furniture other than the chair that he was sitting in. His hands were chained behind his back, a longer chain hooking them to the floor while his feet were in a similar state. As his head lulled forward, he saw that the chair was sitting on a steel plate, the loops holding the chains connected to that. It seemed it wasn’t going to be that easy to get out. To be honest, he wouldn’t have it any other way. He started to act like he was coming to his senses slowly, blinking hard and all that shit. Frank wasn’t an actor, but he was good at faking. He couldn’t tell you how many times he had to fake being hurt to lure in the bad guy. They were always so dumb…

“It’s about damn time you woke up.”

A voice called out as the door opened and slammed shut behind him. A tall man walked in, mid 50s, long hair, and a wicked scar that ran across his face from left brow to right cheek. Frank looked him over for a minute before deciding that he wasn’t impressed with the man he saw in front of him. Sitting up straight and knocking off the act, he stared the man straight in the eyes.

"I hope that you aren’t Ares. Otherwise, you’re going to need to bring someone in higher up the food chain because from what I’m looking at, you’re just going to put me to sleep. "

Frank said, tilting his head to one side slightly. The man reared back and punched him clean on the side of the head, causing his head to whip to one side. He sighed and returned to his previous position, looking the man over once again.

"I must have had some dirt on my face. Thanks for wiping that off"

The man grunted as the door behind him opened and another man stepped in, carrying what looked like a card table under one arm and a small leather case in the other. He was a weasley looking man but he was muscular. His hunched over figure scurried across the room, dropping the leather case on the ground as he began to set up the table. Even through the leather Frank could hear the clinking of metal on metal, already knowing what was in there. He sighed and looked back to the larger man.

"I already know what you’re going to do to me. Can we just skip the formalities so you can call Ares in and we can have the little chat that I know he so wishes to have with me. I’m sure he’ll want to know how I murdered his sniveling whelp of a chi…"

SMACK!

His hand struck hard against the side of Franks face again. Frank growled slightly as he straightened up in his chair again.

"If you utter one more wo…"

The man was interrupted by Frank spitting a fat globule of blood directly into his eye. He was sure there was a tooth in it because the man yelled in pain, clutching at the side of his face. Frank laughed, loudly, and the man took it upon himself to begin to beat Frank as the man continued to set up the table with the torture implements. As soon as he was done, he held up a hand and the larger man stopped immediately, his fist reared back for another blow. Frank continued to laugh as he spit out more blood and teeth onto the man's shoe.

"If I wanted a kiss I would have called your mother, you fucking pussy. I can see why that weasel over there bosses you around. Please tell me that I’m going to get something more than some thug trying to wail on me to get me to talk. I got better things to do like kill this entire Mount Olympus bullshit that’s plaguing my city."

"Your city?"

The weasley man said, picking up so quickly after Frank finished his sentence that he didn’t even realize that he was talking.

"No, no, no, Frank Castle. This isn’t your city anymore. Once we moved in it became our city. Whether you like it or not, you’re old news but this is all besides the point. What we’re doing here today doesn’t have anything to do with who’s right and who’s wrong. We’re just going to have some good ol’ fashioned fun. Do you know anything about torture, Frank?"

Frank scoffed and looked up at the ceiling, blinking away some blood that was running into his eye.

"Well, I’m not going to lie to you, I don’t know much. Other than the dozens of tortures that I’ve conducted over the years while I was in the Marines and in more recent times, my knowledge is incredibly limited. Maybe you’ll have to refresh my memory on something or you could just cut to the chase, get frustrated because I won’t give you the satisfaction of begging for my life, then you can call Ares in here so I can kill him like I killed his son."

The weasley man looked over at him for a moment before looking back to the big guy again, whose eye had swollen shut by this point. He looks back to Frank before continuing as if Frank hadn’t answered.

"Torture is no longer the art form it used to be. It dates back thousands of years. These days we use it just to get information; back then, it was purely for the fun of it."

He pulled out several instruments, things that a professional torturer would carry. Frank was more into using his fists or a pair of pliers, but this guy had it all. Bone saws, scalpels, clamps, cattle prods, you name it. If there was something this guy could use, it was in the leather case.

"The ways people have been tortured changes from country to country, time period to time period, person to person. I like to think of myself as a “cookie cutter” torturer. There’s no need to try and reinvent the wheel when it’s already been perfected, right? I’d like to think that it’s my attention to details when I’m working that makes me better than most. I suppose that’s why Ares pays me so well. I’ve never had a person last more than two days when I had them under my care."

"Oh my God. Can we please just get on with this? You’re more likely to have me begging to end my life from this story than the torture itself."

Frank let out an annoyed groan, unable to believe his misfortune to get the one guy in seemingly the whole world that would rather talk about his job than actually do it.

"Look. I’m serious. Just start your little slicing and dicing so I can ju…"

With a slight flick of the man’s wrist, the feeling of cold steel penetrating his flesh became Franks immediate sensation. He could feel as the scalpel slide deeper and deeper into his chest before it painfully struck bone. He let out a roar of pain, his pectorals flexing involuntarily which only caused him to be in even more pain.

"Mother fucker! Oooooh boy I’m going to enjoy popping your head like a fucking zi…"

Another scalpel, with surprisingly accurate aim, strikes him in the chest less than an inch from the previous one. He howled again, the warm crimson blood blotting his shirt. He stared daggers at the man, who was pulling out varying instruments, chose two and walked over to him, the object in each hand. He looked at the two scalpels sticking out of his chest and nodded slightly, seemingly pleased with his work.

"I tell you what, Frank, most people don’t take those two shots that well. You’re one tough guy for sure and it would seem that the stories are true. Well, I guess we’re going to have to put that famous mettle of yours to the test…"

He took a knife, which almost looked like a filleting knife, and quickly swiped it up and across his chest, cutting a deep slash across his chest and cutting open his shirt. The blood splattered across the man but he didn’t seem to pay any attention to it. Frank flexed again, trying to fight through the pain but it only worsened the two scalpels in his chest.

"Is that all you got?"

He spit in the mans face, only adding to the blood that was already there but he paid it little attention.

"Of course not, Frank. That was just to get your shirt clear…"

As the man started to work on him, more and more of the medical instruments came in to play. Frank had to give the guy credit, he surely knew what he was doing; missing arteries, never cutting to deep but just deep enough to cause some serious pain. By the end of it all, he ended up having 4 fingernails removed, 3 toenails, his nose broken, his eyelids sliced with a knife, and a hole drilled into his left foot and his right hand. Frank was doing everything he could to hold on to consciousness, eventually becoming numb to the pain itself, only feeling the pressure. As the weasley man pulled the drill out of his hand, his frustration with Frank;s lack of begging was becoming more and more apparent on his face. Everything he did seemed to be more and more desperate to try and get Frank to beg for his death. This only pushed him to be even more quiet, only wincing when something applied just the right amount of pressure. Eventually, the man threw his tools to the ground, storming over to the leather pouch and pulled out what looked like another drill until he got closer. Before Frank could react, the man pressed the nail gun to his skin, driving a nail clean through Franks shoulder and into the chair. Frank yelled at this, but not as much as the weasel had wanted because he did it twice more into his feet, the nails clanging against the metal plate. The man then stormed off, the big man following behind him and shutting the door behind him.

Frank winced slightly as he moved his feet into better position, using the loops that held the chains to push them partially out of his feet. He looked around and looked at his chair again. It was wooden but the chains would keep him from going anywhere if he broke it. The tools were also too far away to lean over and snag one with his teeth. He looked down at himself before his eyes fell on the nail that was still in his shoulder. He let out a sigh and his head lulled to one side.

"Goddamnit…"

He pressed his lips against the wound, depressing the skin just enough to get his lips wrapped around the head of the nail, starting to pull it out with a low groan. He eventually got his teeth around it and yanked it out, rolling the shoulder weakly before he stashed the nail in his mouth. It was a long ass nail. He lulled his head forward and waited.

Eventually, both men came back looking more relaxed than they were before. Frank kept his head hung forward and the weasley man slapped his face a couple times, trying to get him to rouse. When Frank didn’t, he pressed two fingers to Frank neck, holding it there for a moment. It was a good thing he had lost so much blood already, he knew his pulse was dangerously low and it would appear that he was on the verge of death and unable to do anything if he was unshackled.

"Ah shit. Get your ass over here and help me get him on the table. His damn pulse is too low and if this fucker ends up dead I’ll be joining him."

They both worked in unison to uncuff him and begin to lift him up. As soon as he heard the instruments get pushed to the floor, Frank sprung into action, yanking his hand from the smaller man and grabbing the nail out of his mouth before driving it into his eye, causing him to drop his left half to the floor and out of the larger man’s grip. Spinning around, he pulled both nails out of his feet before charging at the larger man who was still trying to gather his wits as to what was happening. He managed to get his hand up in time but he only succeeded in getting the nail stuck in both his hands instead of his head. He seemed to rally from that, clenching his bloodied fists and taking several swings at Frank. A few landed and sent him sprawling. He dug his fingers into his shoulder and yanked out the other nail before letting out a war cry. He charged at the larger man, driving the nail into his forehead as he tried to get the other nails from his hands. He went wide eyed before instantly going slack, tumbling to the ground with a heavy thud. Frank looked around, noticing the smaller man was curled up on the floor, trying to pull out the nail still embedded in his eye. Frank walked over and picked up the nail gun before limping over to him.

"Good ol’ fashioned fun…"

And with that, Frank pressed the nail gun to his head, sending an iron spike directly into his brain The man went limp on the ground.

Submitted April 24, 2019 at 10:24PM by whodeletedmyaccount http://bit.ly/2IG8riG