Punisher War Journal
Day 785

Kingpin has escaped me again. I know I can't touch him when he's at his tower. In fact, I'm not sure if I should touch him. As much as I hate to say this, he may be the only thing stopping madmen like Matthew Murdock and Marc Spector from running the criminal underworld. I can't trust someone who doesn't operate on a code of honor with the running of the underworld. To allow this would be...catastrophic. So unless I am willing to keep an eye out on them, I can't touch Fisk.

Stark called again. He wants to know if I will register in the upcoming months. I told him to give me some time, but I don't know how long I can bluff. I'm a street fighter, not a supercop. The sooner Stark gets that the better.

Since I'm down in Hell's Kitchen, I'll have a talk with Matt.

Punisher War Journal day 785 concluded.

The grim man set down the pen and hoisted the rifle he had been cradling over his shoulder. He turned unsurely toward the black van that was his base of operations. He was never absolutely sure about Murdock; he had no moral code by which he worked.

He opened the door, when he heard it. It wasn't a squeak of the door--no, he maintained the machine too well to have it squeak. It sounded like feet on a rain-soaked roof.

Frank Castle ducked as a long red rod nearly shattered his skull. "Murdock!" He shouted. "Watch where you throw those."

A lithe, red-clad man landed gracefully. "Frank! Watch the name-dropping!"

The Punisher raised his hand and stuck a nimble finger in the Daredevil's face. "Last time I looked, you didn't give a crap what I called you."

Daredevil waved his hand impatiently. "Why did you enter the Kitchen? I have enough problems to deal with without you trying to take my neighborhood."

"I don't want your Shadowland, Matt. I want to know what's striking fear into the hearts of the heroes."

Daredevil raised his hand. "Sh-sh-sh. Do you hear that? That's what's scaring Tony and Pete."

Come to think of it, he did hear something. Frank turned around. There at the end of the alleyway was a hulking brute of a man. He was swaying slowly but quivering, as if on a fix.

"What's he on? Methamphetamines?"

Daredevil shook his head. "No idea. I can't see what he's doing right now." Frank felt stupid for asking. Of course Matt was blind. "Black Tarantula told me it was like no other drug he'd seen.
And he'd know." He chuckled. Frank glared. "He's from Mexico. Drug capital of the universe. Huh?" Frank still did not flinch or move. "Never mind. You can't take a joke."

Frank ignored him.

Like a dumb animal, the brutish man lifted his head and looked at the pair.

"Oh for the love of f--," the Punisher almost swore when the brute literally screamed. SKREEEE! By some power, the sound knocked him off his feet.

Picking himself up, he shook his head. "A mutant? Stark is scared of a mutant?"

Daredevil hopped down to his level. "I doubt it's just a mutant. But I'd watch out for the sonic overload building in his gut right about...NOW!" He kicked out and sent Frank reeling back. A bolt of sound energy tore through where he had just been. He unhitched the rifle from his back and took careful aim.

BANG! First shot rang true. The mutant doubled back with a spurt of blood from its head. "That's not doing it, Matt. He's still coming." The second shot whizzed far overhead. "Sh--,"

The mutant screamed again, shattering a window. "DUCK!" Daredevil shouted and bowled Frank over. Glass shards rained down where the pair had just stood. Then the mutant wretched, spilling bile and blood on the ground. The effect was immediate. The mutant simply shrunk.

"They always do that," Daredevil stated.

Frank turned toward him. "You've...experienced," he said, trying to control his anger and not ask if he had seen, "this before?"

"Every time. The mutants nearly overpower my sentries, but then they vomit the drug out of them and immediately lose their abilities."

"So...mutates, then." Frank stormed over to the prone body of the once-mutant. He grabbed the man's throat and lifted him up in his left hand. In his right he leveled the rifle at the mutate. "Now tell me exactly where you got shot up with that drug."

The man, who had looked so menacing before, whimpered, "Yore a superhero, right? Ya can't hurt me."

The Punisher had no time for nonsense. BANG! The criminal squealed and clutched what used to be his ear. Dark, oxygenated blood seeped through his fingers. "Now tell me where you got it or the next thing to go is your nose."

"No! I'll spill, I'll spill." The mutate was sobbing now. "His name was...was..." He screwed up his face, trying to remember. "Joseph. Joseph Something. I'm not kidding you, I dunno his last name!"

"Goes just by Joseph, huh?" Frank Castle smiled. "Flat head?"

"Yes! Flat as a frying pan!" He was nodding as vigorously as possible with the Punisher's hand on his neck.

Frank threw the man. He flopped like a piece of paper through the air and landed between two trash cans. "He's yours, Daredevil. Give this trash a hard time."

He looked up at his next destination. The tower stood tall even there in Hell's Kitchen, it's blazing A visible from afar. Yes, he would visit Stark; as much as he despised his cockiness, Tony was at heart a good man.

Frank bent down and removed a glove. With the other gloved hand he scooped some vomit into it. Daredevil waved silently to him, then sprung up to the rooftops. Frank looked behind himself, then opened the van door and sighed.