THE DOCTOR & THE PUNISHER || PART TWO
summary: vaines thinks he’s won. but the punisher never stays locked up for long -- and he always gets his kill
trigger warnings: violence, gore, blood, knives, guns, drugs, and m u r d e r
featuring: @dogcfwar
VAINES: Business was good. True, he had unfortunately lost his new favorite little lab rat – not that anything about Frank Castle could be called little apart from his intellect. The would-be killer's plans had been so blatantly telegraphed, so easily foiled, it was laughable.
He was still operating in Vortex, despite that insipid little girl upstairs. He would deal with her in time. He had everything he needed, Sofia's magic had added a burst of potential to his new serums, and soon enough he would have clients lining up out the door to try them. Perfection had never been so close.
FRANK: Frank had been arrogant the first time around, he knew that much. That’s why this time, he came back better than ever. He stood around Karen’s kitchen island, rough plans and mock ups of the layout of Vortex and Vaines’ hiding holes in front of him, and stayed up late through the night, talking through each of his plans to Karen. He’d almost forgotten how well he worked with someone else – even just bouncing ideas off a person instead of a wall, instead of the inside of his own skull, made him realise weaknesses and flaws he never would have realised before. His hands had stopped shaking, at least not as much. He figured it was to do with the distraction, the focus that was taken up entirely with the planning. It had been months since he felt like this – since he thought of himself as a marine, or a black ops agent who was damn good at his job.
There was a new queen on the throne of the criminal underworld, and Frank had done his research. He knew she would keep her men in line, would intervene only if necessary, so he avoided them entirely. Instead, he worked on the few that were loyal to Vaines, coming back day after day, taking out the shift changes, slowly dwindling his supply of staff, always backing it up with a valid excuse – being run out of town, being sick, being shot in the head by a rival gang, the works.
All in anticipation of this. One of the younger guards, couldn't have been more than mid-twenties, trembled in his boots as he walked towards the door. Frank wasn’t behind him, though he wanted to be. There was every chance of things going wrong when Frank didn’t have a knife to the back of his neck, only a gun pointed towards him instead – but things didn’t go wrong. The guy knocked at the door, just as they had planned, the code that Vaines had given.
“Boss?” the guard said. “The shipment’s come in, but they won’t let us unload them until they see the man in charge, and Volkshi didn’t show up for work today.”
VAINES: For weeks now, things had been running smoothly. Vydrate was more popular than ever, which kept him busier than ever. He didn't have time for these trifiling interruptions. With a heavy sigh, he approached the door and leaned over the retina scanner to open it from the inside.
"Make it quick at least, will you –" The rest of the sentence died on his tongue when he saw the man behind his guard. "Impossible," he murmured, eyes narrowing. No, no, Castle should still be in prison, should've been in a cage without a key by now. He refused to accept the man standing there before his eyes.
FRANK: Frank had always been a strategist. Vaines’ serum had enhanced the information going in, which for a time made him feel as if he was being suffocated by the world around him. Now, he realised that his ability to compartmentalise had been heightened as well. Talking it out with Karen in her kitchen, planning out what could go wrong and what could go right had only proven that. And now, here he was – eye to eye with the man that he had promised to kill, the man who would, one way or another, die tonight. That bit he had left up to improvisation. He’d always been creative, after all.
“Made you a promise, didn’t I?” Frank retorted, raising an eyebrow. He allowed only a beat to pass, savouring in the moment, before he pushed into the room, hand going to Vaines’ chest, forcing him back with only half of the strength this man had given him to the wall behind him. “I said knife in the throat, yeah?” Frank said, going for the Kabar on his belt, turning it over in his hand. It was well worn, but old habits died hard – old friends died even harder. “But you … you had to put me in cuffs, try and throw me in a hole, yeah? You had to, what, get one up on me? Nah.” He moved across the room, quick and silent, pressing the blade to Vaines’ throat until a line of red appeared to shield against the glint. “Memento mori,” he muttered, with no need to point to the symbol on his chest. “Believe me, I’m gonna remember how you died for a long time, asshole.”
VAINES: This was one thing he hadn't planned on. There were dozens of agencies that wanted this man's head on a platter, and Vaines had delivered it to them. With a bow attached! How could he be free? After the last time, he thought they would've had the strictest security on him. He cursed himself – he should've made certain. Should've put his own measures in place. There truly was no one in the world he could count on.
"Castle, get a hold of your–" Before he could finish the sentence, Frank pushed him back. Vaines stumbled, managed to keep his feet. He stared at the blade, menacingly worn, flecks of blood dried onto the hilt. "Let's be reasonable," he said slowly, holding his hands up. "You don't know what kind of – there might be long term effects of your treatement we don't know about!" he rasped, feeling his heart pound in his throat.
Scared as he was (and he couldn't remember ever being this scared), he still managed to scoff at the Latin. "Remember you will die," he hissed. "A stupid phrase, echoed by the small-minded who think themselves wise. True wisdom is knowing that it doesn't have to be this way!" He stared desperately at Frank. "I could make us immortal, Castle. I could give you powers you can barely dream of. Please," he whispered as the blade touched his throat. "Let me help you."
FRANK: “Reasonable,” Frank repeated, pursing his lips together. “Surprised you think I’m capable of that, Vaines. Always seemed to me you thought I was some mindless grunt, right? Just some asshole that you could shoot up, that you could control, that you could manipulate?” He pressed the blade tighter against Vaines’ throat, knowing that it would burn like a son of a bitch. He’d done this a hundred times before, had it done to him a couple dozen times, at the very least. “Tell me something – that worked for you before? A couple threats, you think people are just gonna roll over? Maybe it has. Maybe you’ve met a thousand suckers in this city, people you can fuck over and get away with it, come out on top. But not me.”
It was a sick sense of irony. Frank liked to imagine he would’ve been able to use his experience in strategies and tactics to get into Vortex eventually, break down the door to the lab, get this sweet moment of revenge, but the truth was that Vaines’ serum had only sped up the process. This man, this arrogant, sick, selfish man, had been his own undoing. “I don’t want to be immortal,” Frank said, voice low and thick, coming up from his chest, “and I don’t need your help, you hear me?” He leaned in closer, even though there was no one else around to hear Vaines’ whimpers, or Frank’s words to him. “You know what I do. You know what I am. You made me better at my job, Vaines, and you know what that job is.” Punishment, plain and simple. Justice for the fallen, vengeance for those who were left behind. “You know, I thought about having my fun, yeah? Strapping you to this table, seeing how long it took you to beg for your life. Letting you starve for days, taking away day and night until you lose your goddamn mind. It happens after a week, at most. I bet you’d last a few days. But I made someone a promise. I made a deal, like I made with you at the start of this. I said I’d do my job, and I’d make it clean.”
Frank stepped back, removing the knife from Vaines’ throat, letting him drop off the wall. He took a breath, let it fill his body – his new lungs, his stronger heart, his thicker veins – and then surged forward, sliding the knife into that spot where he knew Vaines would be dead before he hit the ground, the same as that very first kill. They’d talked about it right here, in this spot, the spot where his blood was splashing to the floor. “This is the part where you beg,” Frank said, watching as the other man’s eyes went glassy, as the realisation hit him like an earthquake taking a building to the ground – sudden, intense, devastating, and over far too fast, leaving only dust. The knife slid out, slicked with blood, glistening under the dull lights. “See you in hell, Vaines,” Frank snapped, spitting the ground beside his body, before he turned on his heels and walked out, wiping the knife off on his shirt.
VAINES: “I gave you what you wanted!” Vaines hissed back, voice strained and strangled with desperation – and yet, still maintaining that arrogance he was so famous for. “Are you complaining about my work? Our progress? You came to me, Mr. Castle, and I – I did everything you asked!” The blade was so cold against his skin, so sharp. He swallowed hard and felt it dig in, slicing just a little.
His personal stash of Vydrate was in his pocket. Imbued with Sofia’s magic. He could inject himself and the results would even the fight – but he couldn’t move. He was completely frozen. The fear of this man pulled strange sounds from his vocal cords and paralyzed his every muscle. Sweat dotted his skin, all he could do was shake beneath Castle’s blade. He tried to tell himself to get a grip, but for the first time in his life – he couldn’t think.
Without his mind, he was nothing. He tried to remind himself of how close he was, Vydrate was nearly perfect, he had come so far. He couldn’t lose it all now, certainly not like this. To a thug like Frank Castle? It was unthinkable. There had to be a way out of this, he just had to –
Frank leaned in close, whispering those words, and all Vaines could do was whimper in reply. “M—Mr. Castle,” he choked out. “Frank. Frank, have you – this could be a s-side effect,” he whispered, but the lie was weak, pathetic, nothing. Frank’s words, the picture he painted, the torture he described, drowned out every thought in Vaines’ head. He thought of Sofia, bound and writhing beneath his hands, begging him to stop. But she was a sacrifice for perfection, and even now with his own death seconds away – he wasn’t sorry for what he’d done.
But then he let go. And the knife was gone from his throat. Vaines slumped against the wall, feeling small and still shaking. Had he broken through? Was Castle about to change his mind. “I could still be useful,” he gasped, touching his throat, feeling the thin cut, that little bit of blood there. “I could make you perfect, Frank, if you –”
He never got a chance to finish the sentence. As the knife slid into his chest, he felt every organ it pierced, his flesh was on fire. And all he could think of was Frank describing his first kill. Kabar knife. Slid it in. Wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be. Little bit of resistance, then I hit a rib. Vaines gasped, doubling over, hands scrambling towards the knife. It was in too deep, Frank’s grip too strong. I remember … fuck, he screamed then. Was he screaming now? He didn’t know. He didn’t know anything except pain. Agonizing, burning, piercing. It was – it was really something. Twisted it, heard this sound like … like water, like you’d turned a bottle of jack upside down. He could hear it now, and it was almost beautiful. That sloshing sound of blood spilling, bursting from the wound, dripping onto his hands and the floor. Like a burst pipe, a waterfall.
He said please, before he slid off the knife.
This is the part where you beg.
But Vaines couldn’t even speak. His fingers slipped off the knife, and he looked up at Castle – he was on his knees now. He didn’t even feel the ground beneath him. It was like he was floating, floating on a sea of his own blood and lost in the riptide of agony. His vision blurred, head spinning. His hand shot out, trying to steady himself, trying to – he didn’t know what. He smacked a table, sending the contents crashing to the floor. And then he was falling too, landing among shards and spilled Vydrate. I’m not finished yet, he thought. It isn’t perfect, I didn’t… I failed. The green glowing liquid mixing with his own blood was the last thing he saw, before everything went completely black.
