12231/A Friendly Introduction

A Friendly Introduction
Date of Scene:	23 September 2020
Location:	Randall, Nantwich
Synopsis:	Punisher has a chat with Matt. Could've gone worse.
Cast of Characters:	Punisher, Daredevil

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Punisher has posed:
What time is it? Probably sometime early morning at this point. The sun can be felt on Daredevils face (what can be felt through his covering, anyway) and somehow, he isn't seriously injured. The sounds of the city all around him slowly waking up can be heard... and his senses tell him he's being held on a rooftop... somewhere. Still New York, by the smells.

There are no police, no cries for help or blood from the bodies. Wherever they are, they are /clearly/ far away from Hell's Kitchen; enough that it'll a trip to get back likely.

There's duct tape over his mouth, and some sort of metallic ties around his wrists tying him to a metal pole. Feeling them implies some sort of specialization. There's nothing dollar store about the restraints.

Seems like the Punisher isn't taking chances on Daredevil getting away, and put him in restraints designed for metahumans.

Somehow, his mask is /not/ off of him... and he can 'see' the Punisher opposite him, sitting on a chair with a shotgun in his lap watching Daredevil. Above, Daredevil can hear that same drone from before, watching.

Daredevil has posed:
The sounds of the city slowly break through the dark silence that has enveloped Matt for who knows how long. His head hangs limply, his chin resting on his chest. The taste of the adhesive of the duct tape fills his mouth and the scent of it assaults his nostrils as he slowly opens his eyes and stirs.

His wrists held behind his back and around a metal pole, Daredevil looks up. He'd forgotten exactly what had happened in the hours prior to now until he sees The Punisher sitting opposite him with a shotgun in his lap. Ah. That. The realization and recollection of running into the vigilante on the garage rooftop surfacing, he exhales deeply in acnowledgement and his head lowers again, trying to collect himself.

His head is pounding from the impact of the rubber bullet smashing into his mask. Luckily the mask distributed the force of the impact so it wasn't centralized, but now the entirety of his forehead and nose ache. He can feel the dried blood that trailed down from both nostrils and into his mouth. He glances up in the general direction of the drone. Punisher has a friend.

Turning his attention back to his captor, Matt's head sways, "Here we are."

Punisher has posed:
"Here we are." The Punisher echoes, with a bit of amusement to it, even through the grating. There's even a small nod of acknowledgment to the wording. "Believe me, this is not how I imagined I was gonna be spendin' my early mornin' last night. Yet here you are, somehow gettin' up in my shit like a bad cold." His tone is icy, neutral. He's done this dance before with others. His body language, his heart, his breathing... this is Frank Castle's element. He reworks his plans on the fly.

All the information Daredevil can gain from his senses tell him The Punisher is not some thug getting high off his powertrip of having the Devil of Hell's Kitchen' at his mercy. This is an expert interrogator, calm in the face of one of the foremost martial artists around. This is a Master Assassin. This is one of the best commando's in the world, and he knows it.

It's easy to tell why Frank Castle was a legendary marine... and why half the planet is terrified of him, on both sides of the law.

"Why are we here, Red? I didn't think you did arms deals."

Daredevil has posed:
Daredevil has heard about Frank. Heard plenty about him. Who hasn't? It's no secret that no one wants to fuck with the man. Or get in his way. Sitting here on the rooftop, bound and in rough shape, Matt can understand why. He's a formidable man. He's not shaken. Most importantly, he's not anxious either. He's as calm as anyone he's ever met despite having just murdered several people and abducted The Devil.

Likewise, Frank might pick up on the fact that the man he has restrained against a metal pole has been in situations like this before. He shows no signs of fright or worry. If anything, the ripple in the muscles along his jaw might suggest he's more angry than anything. Frustrated that he allowed himself to be captured. This could go any number of ways, but what Frank says next catches him completely off guard.

His question is initially met by silence. His mouth, if it wasn't concealed with duct tape, would be slightly hung open before he can't help but let loose laughter. His shoulders shudder and his head lowers as muffled laughs echo behind the adhesive. Air escapes his nostrils in short burst until he finally pulls himself together. He looks up and shakes his head, speaking but unintelligiblly.

Punisher has posed:
"It was rhetorical, but sure, let's hear the answer." The Punisher gets up, moves over to the side, making it harder for Daredevil to try anything, and pulls the tape off. "Your type of vigilante are naive fools, but I don't go gunnin' for any of you unless you're gettin' in my way." He moves to sit, back where he was. "So, what was that, Red?"

Daredevil has posed:
As Punisher gets up and walks over to him, Daredevil looks up and loosely follows his trajectory. He's not showing any signs of struggle. He knows better. He's been bound before but not with this level of skill. He couldn't if he tried.

The tape ripping from his flesh elicits a grimace as he lowers his head, his eyes watering and shutting tightly. It takes him a moment to recover, but when he does and looks back up he'll see Frank returning to his previous seat.

"It makes sense now," he says before spitting to the side. A spray of red as he tries to rid himself of the metallic/adhesive flavors trapped in there for hours. "You think I was involved in that arms deal." The words cause him to start chuckling again, only quieter this time as the initial hilarity has worn off. "I was there trying to stop it. And you from killing them."

Punisher has posed:
"Only thing that makes sense is you were in the area." The Punisher reasons out. "You heard the gunshots when the deal went bad and I started puttin' down the assholes to keep collateral damage down." He grunts slightly. "I hear you're mainly in Hell's Kitchen. Do you go anywhere else?"

Daredevil has posed:
If Matt thought the former marine was a dumb jarhead, he was wrong. At least as far as the man's ability to infer intentions in combat scenarios is concerned. "Not bad," he says as he lifts his head to rest it back against the pole to which he's strapped. "I'm usually not in the area," he says and coughs as his breath catches. The cough makes his back and leg ache. He remembers being shot with some sort of tranquilizer and clenches his teeth for a moment.

"I was on my way back to the Kitchen when I heard the shots from the garage. Heard you further down the block." His eyes roll in their sockets so he's watching the fiery silhouette sitting across from him. "I wasn't helping them with the deal. I was helping them not get killed."

Punisher has posed:
"You half suceeded. You comin' in like you did forced me to change up to stun rounds to keep you from being a casualty. Of course, I fixed that once I put you down." The Punisher shrugs, "I don't work Hell's Kitchen a lot unless it's high priority targets. That arms deal was gonna put more shotguns in some of the local mobs hands by proxy. I don't need more thugs gettin' hardware. I already have enough to deal with on my own operations and keepin' up to date on the Foot clan."

Finally, the Punisher stands... and he stares at Daredevil, his shotgun being shouldered so it's aiming 'backwards' and up. "Unlucky on both our parts. I work solo in the field for the most part; most people can't handle my methods. I try not to step on toes even with the fools like yourself. Pullin' off your mask to find your civvie identity doesn't matter to me; you got your own life and I'm sure you'd just pretend with me if I ever got you caught up in crossfire."

He stares some more at him... silently. Then...

"Can't imagine you'd let me go if I just undid your cuffs right here, right?"

Daredevil has posed:
"The Foot," he echoes quietly. Looks like Frank is looking into them too. Interesting. They might be running into one another more often. His admission to killing all of the thugs involved in the arms deal he tried to interrupt earlier causes Matt to shake his head, lowering it again. "I understand what you're doing, Frank." He knows Punisher doesn't go by Frank anymore, which is why he's continuing to use the man's Christian name. Catholic name probably.

He looks back up and smiles at the man at the mention of his release, "I can't promise I wouldn't take a swing at you." He's not lying. "Before you knock me out again, I was wondering..." he lowers his head for a moment as he recollects something a nurse told him a few nights ago. "Know anything about a group called The Black Dragons?"

Punisher has posed:
"Maybe, maybe not. What's it to you?" The Punisher asks.

If he's angry about being called Frank, he doesn't show it. Judging by his face and heartbeat, he's... completely apathic about it.

The Punisher feels nothing about being called by his birth name. His past means that little to him... or it's that dead to him.

Daredevil has posed:
"Heard about them for the first time a couple of nights ago. Wrapped up in some sort of human trafficking." He inhales deeply through his nose, dislodging some dried blood, sending it into the back of his throat. He clears his throat and spits it out to the rooftop beside him again.

"Planning on doing some digging into them to see what I can find out. Was hoping you might know something. They like to use saws on their victims." He glances up at Frank, trying to get a read on the man to see if the mention of the organization has any sort of reaction. He expects none, but what the hell. "They like to kill children."

Punisher has posed:
"Of course they do. Filth in this city comes in all kinds of variety." Punisher notes with an icey attitude. "If they're ramping up their shit, I'll have to shift a front."

A hand is put into the gear web under his trenchcoat, and a cell phone is taken out. He tosses it at Daredevils feet, "If you're busy with them, call the number in there. I have a voice mail dead drop for messages. Don't bother trying to trace it. It's anonymous."

With that, that same pistol as before is pulled and aimed at Daredevil's neck this time. Different payload?

"Any last words?"

Daredevil has posed:
His eyes following the cell phone as it's tossed at it his feet, Matt grins and nods to himself. The evening has turned into an interesting one. Maybe there's an unlikely ally in his presence. Only time will tell.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he says in response to the warning against tracing it. Frank is smart enough not to put himself at risk like that. Hearing and smelling the pistol, Matt looks up and is staring down the barrel. "Be seeing you, Frank." Last words for now. Hopefully.

Punisher has posed:
Matt can hear the trigger pulled and the custom firing pin hit the gunpowder cookoff charge go off. Suddenly, there's a prick in his neck as a customized trang dart pops into him.

"Sure you wouldn't."

The last thing Daredevil hears is The Punisher walking to the edge of the rooftop.