+ and when you call, i’ll come home... | @theirnarrative
You can’t kill the Boogeyman.
Frank Castle is dead. Buried for real this time, his story finished in a nice little bow. They know his name in this city as a vacant whisper, a cautionary tale to the big men on campus who’d take their chances transporting their stolen, corrupted goods. They know him for the red on his hands, for the blood from others can’t ever seem to leave his hands. They gloss over his sacrifices (Marie, Lisa, Frank) and forget his service (a survivor, a warrior) to paint him in the light they need him to be. His death gives mobsters a sigh of relief; and go figure-- with the powers of authority in shambles, they can turn over a new leaf.
But Frank Castle has been dead before, and Echo doesn’t believe ghost stories.
He’d be here because she knows his motives; he can’t help himself when it comes to a good blood bath of criminals all together in one tight room, fingers greasy from potato chips and boujee liquor. Maybe he’s off the radar, maybe he hasn’t been anywhere near the radar for six months, but he still has a pattern. You don’t just break routine. One day, maybe one day, he’ll show up to a whispered game of cards and find that very routine when he gets bored, or his trigger finger itches for a little bit of rightful justice.
And she’ll be here. It’s been six whole months since Frank Castle was announced dead by the FBI, but Echo Galaeus will be here.
