The Punisher MAX #3

"GET THE FUCK UP!"

Tombstone stormed through the empty bus depot dragging Phil Gates.

Phil was a 63 year old man. His father and grandfather had helped to found the NAACP chapter in New York City in 1909. Both however though had soon left the organization after their demons from the bottle caught up to them.

Arnold Gates, his grandfather, had accidentally run a man over backing out of his driveway after a drunken argument with
his wife. Arnold spent two years in state prison for the accidental killing. Six months after being released Arnold died
from a rotted liver. Even the two years spent locked up weren't enough to undo the damage he had done to himself.

Todd Gates, his father, had been on and off the wagon for years, often finding himself fighting with police officers after
a drunken stupor at the bar. Eventually, one struggle too many, and Todd had been taken down by the police, his head
cracking on the sidewalk curb. Todd died two weeks after that from bleeding in his brain.

Phil was determined to not follow the same path as his father or grandfather. So he had taken on the most stable job he
could find. A New York City bus driver. The pay was decent enough. Not enough to cover all of the bills, and food stamps
and medicaid were a must, but it was enough to at least make the bills somewhat tolerable. Phil loved his job. Aside from
the smell and noise most passengers were more than happy to share it was good work. Plenty of overtime. Phil loved his job.

"GET ON THE FUCKING BUS!" Tombstone screaming shoving Phil at the bus. "PETEY! PETEY! WHERE THE FUCK--"

"Right here sir." Petey said, standing right behind Tombstone, wearing a brightly colored Spider-Man t-shirt and blue sweat
pants and white high top sneakers.

Tombstone looked at him in anger and pulled out a small handgun.

"Keep this aimed at his face. If he moves, shoot him," Tombstone stated and then turned back toward Phil, "Phil if you move

Petey is going to shoot you in the fucking face. In the face Petey. He will shoot you in the face. Do you understand what I
am saying to you right now?"

Phil slowly nodded his head yes.

Tombstone took the gun back from Petey.

BLAM!

Tombstone shot Phil in the right knee cap.

"AHHH!!!! AH GOD!!!" Phil screamed falling and holding his bloody leg.

"PHIL! PHIL! Phil shut the fuck up or I'm going to shoot you again. Phil. Phil....there we go...shhhhh," Tombstone said as

Phil slowly came to a soft whimper. Tombstone turned back to Petey.

"In the face. If he does anything stupid, you shoot him in the face," Tombstone said again.

"Yes sir," Petey replied, taking the gun. Tombstone then left.


The clip fell to the ground. The echo rang off of the brick walls. Shells covered the dirty alley floor. Frank Castle walked forward, his black boots crunching on broken glass.

"Geh...geh...pu-p-lease....oh fuck please," the young man cried, his left arm barely hanging on by sinew and tendons, bullet holes covering the left half of his torso.

Castle aimed his gun at the young man's head.

"This is the Shipka. It's a nine millimeter Bulgarian submachine gun produced in 1996 by the Bulgarian company Arsenal. The name is a reference to Shipka Pass, near Arsenal's Kazanlak headquarters, in the Balkans where Bulgarian volunteers and

Russian troops defeated the Ottoman Empire during the Russo-Turkish War of 1877. They liberated Bulgaria there. Now then," Frank explained quietly as he knelt down in front of the young man, "if you don't tell me what I want to know, I'm going to use the Shipka here and I'm going to liberate your head from your shoulders. Where's Tombstone?"

"Ah fuck man...f-f-fuck, don't--"

Frank jammed the end of the gun into the young man's cheek.

"Someone got the drop on that albino nigga! FUCK! HE'S DEAD! TH-THEY-THEY WENT STRAIGHT UP MAFIA ON THAT BITCH! Please don't fuckin' kill me!!" the young man cried in fear.

"Dead? Doubt it," Castle said standing and aiming the gun at the young man.

"Y-you you said you wouldn't kill me!" the young man stated in shock.

"Yeah. I did, didn't I?" Frank responded.

BLAM!

"There are twenty-seven bones in the human hand. Twenty-six letters in the alphabet. Do you you know what twenty-seven minus twenty-six is?" the man in the suit asked.

"One...one," came the frightened replied from the man on his knees in the middle of the posh office. The hardwood floors complimented the olive finish on the walls setting a comfortable mood. TJ Lane shook with fear. He knew his life hung in the balance.

"One. That's right. one. And do you know how many bullets it takes to deal with the problem you've presented me?" the man in the suit asked as he walked toward the window of his office, staring out over the Manhattan skyline.

"J-just one?" TJ replied frightened looking around at the three large men in suits surrounding him.

"That's right. just one. One small piece of metal lodged into your skull. That is all it would take. So explain something to me TJ....your name is TJ right?" the man in the suit near the window asked.

"Y-yes sir," TJ replied.

The man stormed from the window toward TJ aiming a .44 magnum at TJ's face.

"THEN TELL ME TJ WHY THE FLYING BLUE FUCK THREE MEN WITH ASSAULT RIFLES WEREN'T ABLE TO KILL LONNIE FUCKING LINCOLN, ALSO KNOWN AS TOMBSTONE, WHEN IT ONLY TAKES ONE GOD DAMN BULLET TO KILL SOMEONE!!!???"

"I-I don't--I d-don't!"

BLAM!

"You three. Clean up this fucking mess. I'm going to get my dick sucked. I'm going over to China Town. I'm hiring some tiny bitch to suck my dick. And when she's done, I'm coming back here. I want this fucking mess cleaned up and I want you three fat fucks to tell me how you plan to kill Lonnie Fucking Lincoln. He was hired to protect my sons. They're fucking dead. It's his ass," Stephen Pinkerson said, tossing the gun on the dead body of TJ, storming out of his office.


Punisher War Journal: "Ray Anne Hansel continues to haunt me. I haven't had any more dreams of Maria. But the resemblance between her and this Ray Anne Hansel is driving me insane. On top of that I still haven't found Tombstone. This hasn't been my week..."

Craig you keep knocking these out of the park, I tip my hat to you my friend.

Thanks man. You guys keep readin' em and I'll keep writin' em.