14285/Making Friends

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Making Friends
Date of Scene: 07 April 2022
Location: Joe's Bar, Kingsbridge, The Bronx
Synopsis: Lois meets the Punisher for the first time and gets an informal interview in exchange for intel.
Cast of Characters: Lois Lane, Punisher




Lois Lane has posed:
After a few weeks of investigating and tailing the mysterious Punisher, Lois finally managed to make contact with his assistant. Computer? Whatever Microchip was, she'd made an actual contact and set up a meeting. She left it in his lap, to be where ever he'd feel the most comfortable, and Joe's Bar ended up being the place.

She comes a little early, to be respectful. She's not dressed like a Pulizter Prize winning reporter, but someone far more natural to find into this bar. A pair of faded out jeans, knee high black leather boots, a cropped dark burgundy shirt and a black leather jacket. She's smoking, perched at the far end of the bar, several fingers of whiskey already in front of her as she watches the room with tired, sharp eyes.

Punisher has posed:
"I'm not seeing any tails or obvious undercovers, Frank." Microchip tells the Punisher over his commlink as he observes the building from across the street on a rooftop. A drone flies above, monitoring the surrounding area, "Fits the MO. I hear she likes to take risks." He notes.

For his part, Frank remains silent as Lois awaits him. Five minutes before he's to meet with her, he casually replies, "this could go either way, but I'm inclined to believe she wants an exchange. You'd have chatter about a sting by now if she was baiting me. I think I'll take the risk. Just keep the Van on standby."

Seven minutes later, Frank walks in wearing the most non-descript black and grey clothing one could imagine, his face obscured by a baseball cap as he sits down right next to Lois without ceremony. Under his grey jacket, she can see the obvious Ka-Bar knife sheathed under it.

He points to a bottle on the shelves, eyeing the bartender, "Well, you got me here." Frank grates out in greeting: no one has ever accussed this internationally wanted vigilante to be the friendly sort, to be fair, "what's your interest?"

Lois Lane has posed:
The reporter figured there'd be time. She also figures she's being watched -- she knows his profile and she knows just how paranoid he is. Lois has come alone. She hasn't even told anyone else over email or a phone where she's going, so there is no one to be too worried and follow her out of foolish but good intentions. It's just her. She's not carrying a weapon that can be seen. There might be some pepper spray in her leather jacket, but there's definitely not enough room for a well hidden gun or even a big knife. It seems she's trying to demonstrate a show of trust.

A smile cracks across her lips as she sees him, blue eyes scanning him fully, head to toe and back up again, before she nods towards the bartender. "Whatever you want to drink. On me. I... appreciate the meeting. I realize you didn't really have any reason to take it, but if you know my work, you know I like to give everyone their fair shake." Lois has written a lot of behind the scenes expose`s of a lot of different people, villains, heroes and vigilantes alike, always painting them as *people*. She shows the real side of things. It's one of her better qualities.

Punisher has posed:
As she offers, he merely grunts, then, he glances to her with slightly narrowed eyes. Not... suspicious per say, but she definitely has the feeling of being sized up.

He doesn't seem too concerned... but then, judging by what she can see from his musculature just from this, Frank is as solidly built as Batman himself, this mans practical polar opposite in superhero circles.

"Microchip has a profile on the mainstay reporters and I keep up on them. I never know if I'm gonna run into one of you durin' an operation." He shrugs, "no reason not to. If you're not tryin' to lock me down for a sting, you have nothin' to fear from me, Ms. Lane. My war is about protectin' people like you."

Lois Lane has posed:
Sizing up Lois doesn't say much for her. Attractive in her own way, dark, messy waves of hair and bangs, a thin face and body that might be consider on the edge of too-skinny. She looks like a woman who lives on coffee or cocaine and not much else. She doesn't dress like a journalist, but maybe she's just trying to blend in here.

She takes another deep drink of her whiskey before setting the glass down and changing out the vice in her hand for her cigarette instead. She drags lazily on it, giving him plenty of time to study her before she responds. "Yes, well... I have no interest in a sting on you, but I would be curious to help the rest of the public see that... I know you're just protecting people. I've studied your patterns too. But the Feds and some sensationalist bullshit papers call you a monster."

Punisher has posed:
"I am a monster." Frank tells her, matter of factly, as she finishes, "I'm a monster that wants to kill the other monsters so someone like me isn't needed ever again." As the drink is brought to him, Frank let's it sit. "It's a thankless, dangerous life.. but that's fine. I didn't start the war for glory or for anyones approval."

He pauses briefly, then adds, "it's a war I don't expect to win either, but someone has to do it."

Lois Lane has posed:
There's a slightly skeptical expression on Lois' face as he calls himself a monster. She shakes her head slowly, dragging in a deep breath of her cigarette and letting the menthol smoke lazily escape through her nose. "You're not a monster if you only kill monsters. Anti-hero, maybe...vigilante. Criminal, yes, because the justice system likes to keep the power of death in its hands and no one else's. But not a monster. I know monsters... I've seen monsters. Covered a lot of them. They hurt children. Innocents. They take advantage of people." Her ice blue eyes turn to rest a little heavier on him. "You're no monster."

Punisher has posed:
"Everyones got their own ideas." Frank concedes, "I've never had any illusions that I'm anything but a killer. I'm very good at it." He glances to the glass with his own booze in it, but still doesn't take it, before glancing back to Lois, "lookin' to write a story about me?"

Lois Lane has posed:
"Lots of people are killers. Lots of people are monsters. They aren't the same thing." Lois states flatly, no doubt in her voice in the least. She takes another sip of her whiskey, watching him over the rim of the glass with a quiet, enigmatic sort of smile. "A story would be nice. A look behind the killing. People would read it. Everyone's fascinated by a killer. Especially one doing it for the right reasons."

Punisher has posed:
"What's your angle? I can't imagine a mainstream group is gonna be interested in an impartial read about me." Frank turns to look at the bar counter, his left hand reaching out to grab his booze lightly, idly. "After all the shit I've seen, the people in power are terrified of givin' me more support. They like to laugh at the law, but they don't laugh at me, and the idea of allowin' anyone to think what I do is a good idea is somethin' they've spent a lot of effort tryin' to suppress."

Lois Lane has posed:
"Yeah, well, no one suppresses me. I'm the gal who goes out and GETS articles like this. Tells the stories that the Man doesn't want to hear. Honestly? That's my angle. I know it's gonna piss people off who I don't like, so... I wanna do it." Lois admits with a wider smile in his direction. She finishes off her whiskey then and slides the glass across the bar, nodding for another. "And I wanted to see if I could find you. Call it a whet stone for my investigation skills."

Punisher has posed:
"Microchip keeps track of potential interests lookin' for me." Frank informs her, "I'm wanted by practically every law enforcement agency worth a damn, doin' counter-intelligence for me is a full time job." He shakes his head in light amusementt, "almost feel sorry for em. has a habit of leavin' viruses on your computer if he traces you."

He shrugs, then. "If you're lookin' for a conversation, this is best done somewhere I won't need to worry about bystanders. Are you open to takin' a ride, Ms. Lane?"

Lois Lane has posed:
"Always open for an adventure, Castle. Let's take a drive." Lois leans over and scoops up the other drink she just ordered. Instead of sipping at it, she knocks the whole thing back like a shot, only slightly wincing at the burn down her throat. She's used to it burning. It seems she's a fairly experienced drinker. She takes a last drag of her cigarette and then stabs it out as she motions for the check.

She pulls out cash, respectfully making certain she's not going to be traced here. Then she pushes herself up, still pretty steady, and nods for him to lead the way.

Punisher has posed:
He stands up mattter of factly, his hands going to his pockets as he walks out.

Outside, a white van slowly pulls up to the curb, "That'd be our ride." Frank notes, then he pauses, before he continues, "Frank Castle died with his family in a park. Just call me the Punisher now."

Getting into the drivers seat, Lois has the passenger side opened... and when she looks around, it becomes obvious this isn't a normal van.

It's a concealed command center and tank.

Lois Lane has posed:
That gruff name he gives her gets another roll of her eyes and a slight chuckle in the back of her throat. "Punisher. That's almost as bad as Batman, you know? All you tough, gruff men who need the most tough names so the world takes them seriously..." Lois tosses him a wink, teasing as she says that, and then swings herself up into the passenger's side of the van.

Seeing just how tricked out it is, her brows loft in surprise and approval. She give a slow nod, looking around behind her. "Very nice, though..."

Punisher has posed:
"It's co-designed, but Microchip built it. I don't have to use the weapons often, but when I do, I'm usually on the news. Sometimes, a little armored warfare is the only way to go." Punisher grates as he starts to drive. "The Bat only takes it halfway. He's all theatrics that anyone with a brain can see right through. He's got some martial skill, but he's the reason that city is rotting." Punisher glances to Lois as they hit a red light, "I don't fuck around. I don't need dramatic bullshit for people to be terrified of me. People are terrified of me because if I come after them, they /know/ they're prey."

Punisher turns a corner, keeping up with traffic, "People are terrified of me for all the right reasons. Don't compare me to him."

Lois Lane has posed:
"With all due respect, Punisher, you were talking about armored warfare and not being dramatic in practically the same breath. The occasional armored warfare is *dramatic*. YOU are dramatic, just in different ways." Lois stretches out in the passenger seat, moving to roll down the window, if she has that capability, and pull out a pack of cigarettes crumpled from the front pocket of her jeans.

"It's alright. People like dramatic. It sells paper and it keeps them talking about your name. It keeps the right people scared. Fine. We're not talking about him. We're talking about you."

Punisher has posed:
"Do you hear about me destroying city blocks with this thing on a daily basis?" Punisher retorts, "I use the tools I need to use to get the job done. Sometimes that's commando work, sometimes that's sniping." He gestures to the very milspec looking dashboard, "sometimes that means leveling a base. The war isn't about being dramatic, but people do like to make out the war to be dramatic for sure." Punisher concedes.

The window indeed rolls down, though if Lois can see the telltale signs, she will easily notice that the window is some sort of custom ballistic glass.. and heavy duty at that.

This thing is very definitely a tank in it's own right. What is the shell of this thing made of?

"You seem like the adrenaline junkie type. Worked with many vigilantes before? People in your profession who don't do the usual hit pieces usually either like the thrill or have some actual professional integrity. Which is it?"

Lois Lane has posed:
"Worked with is a.... stretch, maybe. Written articles about, covered, even ridden side by side with, yes. But it's not my work. I'm here to help you all get the story out to the people, not be a part of it. Adrenaline junkie, here, not fame junkie." Lois admits with a wink in his direction. He did call it right, though, about being an adrenaline junkie. She'll admit to that.

Window now down, she sticks the cigarette between her lips and lights it up smoothly, one hand cupped around the flame. Then she's leaning back and taking a deep, long drag of it, the nicotine helping her body relax despite the high of adrenaline she's chasing. "So...the war. Tell me what your war is."

Punisher has posed:
"I'm the check against another me happening, and the mate that goes after those who laugh at the law." Punisher says, simply enough. "There are always people like that, and they ruin lives with their shit. Problem is, people like them are the ones that tend to finance the lawmakers, so it's just a cycle."

He's on a freeway now, "This shit is everything rots away. The justice system failed Frank Castle, but I can sure as shit do everything I can do make sure that doesn't happen again."

Lois Lane has posed:
There is silence from Lois for a long few moments, just the quiet pattern of her breath as she drags deep on that cigarette and exhales out his window. At least she's trying not to smoke up his car. She slouches back deeper in the seat, stretching her legs out as far as they will go without kicking them up on the dash board, but that might be next.

"And you think terrorizing the justice system the way you are is the way to fix it? Or are you just killing the people you think it missed, who deserve to die?" She asks quietly, pale eyes flickering over to watch his face under the dissolving light as they get further out onto the highway and away from street lamps.

Punisher has posed:
His face is neutral, a mask. There's no emotion there to read so far. "I have no illusions I'm gonna win the war. It's an ongoing thing that I'm gonna probably be fightin' until the day I finally get my skull vented." Punisher replies, casually. "But it's better than doin' nothin'. The psychos, the sadists... the rapists who think that the law is just something to avoid? You're goddamn right they deserve to die."

He glances to her, silent rage in his eyes for the first time, "you think Maria deserved to be killed over a DA playing games with peoples lives in a park sting? You think Lisa and Frank deserved that? All because they didn't wanna 'tip off' a bunch of scum?"

Lois Lane has posed:
A slight shrug comes from her, certainly not going to disagree, but Lois knows she probably shouldn't really encourage this. She takes another drag of that cigarette, closing her eyes and trusting him to just drive. Whatever smear campaign the other press is doing on him, it's not invaded her mind. She feels perfectly safe, it seems.

"So, what's the big plan? How do you find people? Prioritize? What's the long term plan here, just keep killing until someone kills you back hard enough? What do you want the world to know about what you're doing?"

Punisher has posed:
"I have resources and skillsets." Punisher affirms, "I also have a very long list of targets. I have to prioritize. It's a very large war." Punisher confirms. "Some people need to die faster than others, but they all get put down eventually. It's all about guerilla warfare. You don't bring out the big guns unless when scorched earth is the best option."

His eyes are on the road again, that neutral mask back, "I might make a dent in the population of assholes lookin' to be parasites and ruinin' lives... but I've got no illusions of stoppin' it."

He pauses briefly, then he shrugs, "got a number of strategies, but there's always gonna be some asshole gettin' off when he shouldn't... or some bribe to a dirty piece of shit. On top of that, there's organized crime. It's gotten so bad that I'm constantly on the move and gettin' good targets. I go where I need to go. I was the one who brought Trask back to the US after he went into a hidey hole in Russia, for example."

Lois Lane has posed:
Lois nods quietly at the man's words. She lets her cigarette hang in the corner of her lips so he can pull something else out of her pocket -- a note book and a pen. Even as they are driving, she starts writing a few notes, so she can get this interview in the paper later. "And you really...enjoy this? You feel like it's a good way to spend the rest of your life? Do you feel like you're making the world a better place?" She still hasn't really asked where they are going. She's just along for the adventure.

Punisher has posed:
"Those are questions you can ask philosphers. I do what I do because the system failed Frank Castle, and I hit back." He says it so matter of factly, despite the earlier rage. But then, Lois probably has done her research on this man before coming to this meeting.

The fact that he's survived his war for years now despite all the odds against him speaks volumes to his dedication.

"I've been a killer and a commando all my life. They just made me exchange one war for another." He turns off an off ramp, going back into the city proper now, "So, you're lookin' for a story. What do I get out of this?"

Lois Lane has posed:
"Heh. Trask. That's big. Anyone ever know that was you? Anyone...thank you? I suppose not. You want them to know?" Lois points to her notebook for a moment, indicating the fact that she hasn't written it in the record yet, but she will.

"And...where are we going, by the way? If I don't check in in 30 minutes, there going to start to worry. I'm not *completely* unsafe when meeting people considered nutjobs, such as yourself." She flashes him a teasing smile as she says that.

Punisher has posed:
"Don't really care either way. I've never done this for glory or fame... though obviously bein' an internationally wanted fugitive with a body count as high as mine makes me infamous among the big guns out there." Punisher sshrugs, "Let em take their shot. Plenty have tried. I've managed to deal with em all so far."

As he gets off the ramp, he glances to her, "Just drivin'. I have safehouses all over, if you want an extended conversation." Then, he presses, "still haven't told me what I get out of this. Reporter like you? You must have sources. Keepin' tabs on the movers and shakers is a big part of how I operate."

Lois Lane has posed:
"I have some... I never give up a source, though. So, if I won't spill to the cops or the government, why should I spill to you? And no need for a safe house. You can drop my anywhere near a transit stop and I'll get my way back home." It seems Lois feels like she has near enough for a decent article now.

Punisher has posed:
"I don't need sources, I need intel. I need places, targets, resources." Punisher tells her. "I gotta say though, you've got some balls of steel if you follow through with writin' somethin' on me." Punisher notes as he turns into a parking lot next to a bus stop. "Anyone who gets close to me and people know it becomes a target."

When she moves to leave, the Punisher subtly and naturally puts a tracking bug in one of her pockets.

Lois Lane has posed:
The skinny woman moves to swing out of his truck, chain lighting a cigarette off of her old one even as she turns back to say her farewells. If she notices the touch against her pocket, it's hard to see, but she doesn't bring it up. She gives him a wry smile, exhaling some smoke into the night air as she flicks the first butt away.

"I'm always a target. I bring it on myself. Maybe I like it. Being a target means the news comes to me. Makes my job easy. And you bet your ass I'm printing this. Someone's gotta tell the truth and it sure as shit isn't the cops. So... good luck with it all. If I got some good intel about a real asshole, I'll let you know. Deal?"

Punisher has posed:
There's a brief moment as the Punisher assesses her visibly. Reading her? It's hard to tell. Then, he nods, "I can live with that. Contact Microchip when you got somethin' for me." He tells her, before the passenger side auto closes on her and the Battle Van starts to drive off... blending back into city traffic.