9008/City Fall: Left for Dead

City Fall: Left for Dead
Date of Scene:	30 August 2019
Location:	Port Newark, Newark
Synopsis:	Punisher manages to escape a police manhunt by the skin of his teeth
Cast of Characters:	Frank Quaid, Punisher
Tinyplot:	City Fall

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Frank Quaid has posed:
Night shifts have their own feel. The colours are muted. The air is cooler. The vibe is quieter but often more menacing. And the boredom. It always stalks. PC North and PC Lal are fighting boredom sitting side by side against the hood of their patrol car. Port Newark has a bit of activity that reaches their ears. Warehouse employees, machine shops that work through the night, shippers taking in cargo off the ships or putting them into containers for shipping out.

"You have to quit that shit, they'll cut your benefits," North says to his partner.

"You're my trainer not my dad," Lal answers. She puts her e-cigarette to her mouth and breaths in. She breathes out slowly.

Ten feet in front of them the water meets the shore at the back of the old Sappers Fisheries warehouse boat ramp. The warehouse was empty now, waiting for its next occupant. Until then, its plot was so much empty concrete, a dock with a couple of empty berths and a boat launch. Probably a legacy of the last owner's past time rather than a business necessity.

Punisher has posed:
Well, it /was/ empty, that boat ramp.

A moment after the word 'dad' is spoken, a body floats up towards it, and the cresting waters deposit it on the ramp. It's a man, with a gaping wound in his gut. He's dressed in all black, but where the wound is there's a large hole where claw like rips have formed.

He's not moving.

Frank Quaid has posed:
"Jesus," North says. He grabs his mic and starts to jog toward the body. "Central Bravo-6. Medic code 3 and supervisor to my location for a body washed up."

"Copy Bravo-6. All units, code 3 air for Bravo-6, all other units switch to dispatch 2," the dispatcher replies. A tone alert sounds and all other chatter stops. North's and Lal's mics go into open mic mode.

"Hey, NYPD, you awake?" Lal calls as she jokes over toward the body and finishes pulling on her duty gloves. She kneels on one knee, hand on her firearm in the holster. She snaps out her baton, extends it and uses it to prod the man. "Hey, NYPD, can you hear me?"

"North is a few steps back and shines his flashlight on the body. "Guy looks like he lost a fight with a bear," North says. "Dispatch Caucasian male, 40's, lacerations to the abdomen. Lal, his intestines out?"

Punisher has posed:
Nothing happens for a moment. But then, being in the river like that, it's likely he's out like a light.

When the baton prods him though, the effect is instant.

Punisher's hand reaches out, grabbing the baton in an attempt to use surprise to pull Lal in. Punisher might be half-dead... but even in this state, he's more than capable of taking control of the situation... and despite his obvious gut wound, the man moves to stand.

In the light, his skin is extremely pale from blood loss, and his face is contorted in obvious pain... but the Punisher is on his feet for the first time in a day.

Now it's just a matter of escaping.

Frank Quaid has posed:
"What the fuck?!" Lal startles. Her training kicks in where her brain fails her. She lets go of the baton and backs off rapidly. Her firearm is drawn. "Police! Get on the ground!" It is all very automatic.

North has a little more time and distance. He draws his firearm and trains it on this piece of driftwood of a human that just grabbed his partner's baton.

"Holy shit, that's the Punisher! Lal back the fuck up!" North yells. He starts shuffling backwards at shooting speed toward the patrol vehicle. His own training kicking in. Basic. Nothing compared to military training. But effective enough for most days and people. The Punisher is not most people and both cops know it.

"Police! You're under arrest!" Lal shouts as she backs up toward the patrol car. "Drop the baton and get on your knees!"

Automatic. Unthinking. Lal is following a script. A seasoned veteran might have just shot Punisher out of hand. There were no witnesses and it would save lives. Not these two. Training before thinking.

"Dispatch we're code 5 with the Punisher, he has a baton," North calls out. The open mic picks up his words.

On Dispatch 2 the tone alert goes. "All cars near Port Newark clear for a priority call. Bravo-6 is code 5 with the Punisher at the rear of the Sappers Fisheries warehouse. Two units to scene, others standby for quadrants. Tac and PDS on this channel please clear for priority call. Air One switch to Info for routing per Inspector Raine."

Punisher has posed:
He's not even trying to listen. As the two draw their weapons, he's already running for the shoreline, for that small tract of land between the city and the nature of the river.

"Don't follow me." Punisher grates out, pain lacing his voice as he shouts it back.

The Punisher wasn't about to take on two beat cops if he could help it. Sure, Frank had zero problems with taking on the police in a city wide manhunt if he had to (it's happened before) but he's not in any condition for turning this part of New York into a warzone today.

Somewhere out of sight, he takes a moment to gulp in air and wait for the lacing pain to subside, a hand going to his side as he waits it out. "Fuckin' ninjas." Punisher grumbles.

Frank Quaid has posed:
"Dispatch male southbound across the lot on the shoreline," North calls.

"Steve, we can't just let him go, that's the /Punisher/" Lal whispers harshly to North.

"Yeah. That's why we're not going after him. You know how many guys we've lost because of that fucker?" North snaps. "We fucking stay here and let PDS and a whole goddamn tac team go after him. You get to keep dyking out with Sarah and I get to keep paying spousal."

"You're such a dick," Lal grits.

"Yeah, but I'm alive to be one," North retorts.

The Punisher has taken on a mythical status with NYPD. Word that he is wounded and possibly in the open? It brings a response. The cops smell blood.

The helicopter is just starting to turn around. Patrol cars are running to their cars or pulling u-turns. PDS units are turning on the sirens, setting their dogs barking. Tactical teams are jumping into trucks. Harbour Police and Coast Guard dispatches are being contacted. It is too early for plans, or even real strategy. That will come later. Right now is the scramble of chess pieces onto the board.

Punisher has posed:
By this time, Microchip had gotten word from his contacts in the NYPD about the sudden manhunt. He was nowhere nearby, but he had been looking for Frank for days now, and had the Battle Van and allies on speed dial.

Of course, it would be a miracle for any of them to reach The Punisher in time... of course, unluckily for the NYPD, this sort of situation is exactly when Punisher is at his most dangerous, and they would know it.

Going along the coastline, the Punisher was keeping out of sight as much as possible, tearing off a sizable chunk of his shirt as he went. Eventually, he manages to find a rock suitable for a seat, and prepares the shirt segment around his torso. He had no time to make this painless.

Wrapping it around, he tied, and tugged. White hot pain lanced through his body, but he kept his scream internal as he finished. Then, he stood up, and started back down the shore, looking for a tunnel, sewer outlet, or some sort of cover to get into the city proper.

Frank Quaid has posed:
The pieces are still moving and it is still barely contained chaos as the NYPD machine lurches into action. The helicopter is arcing around. Dispatchers from different services are sending out orders. Patrol, dog and tactical teams are scrambling. Air space is being closed.

In short, nobody is exactly in charge right now and it will be a good ten or more minutes before a dog track can begin, a helicopter can start searching or grids are set up.

Punisher has posed:
"Couldn't have washed up in Pennylvania or somethin'." Punisher grumbles to himself as he moves along. It'd be a few minutes before he found someplace suitable, but he eventually does reach a system of sewer outlets.

He had to make this fast. IF he was lucky, the dogs won't be able to handle the scent and slow down enough for him to find a manhole down the line.

Into the outlet he went.

Frank Quaid has posed:
Eleven minutes from the call for cover Hotel-2 arrives at the warehouse. The dog in the back is already barking. It knows from the lights and sirens it is time to work. Golf-4 is right behind the dog unit. Six tactical response members pile out of the van.

The group converges on the two patrol members who saw the Punisher. Bright white light illuminates them and then sweeps down the shoreline in the direction the Punisher was last seen.

Once formed up the dog handler and tactical response team move out after their quarry.

Streets are blocked off in a four block radius. Patrol units sit across streets with lights going. Their officers stand near their vehicles looking around.

A Harbour Police boat with its own search light cruises not far from shore. It searches with its light the same ground the helicopter does from above. The helicopter has the advatange of FLIR but so far there is nothing. No body heat.

Further out in the water a Coast Guard ship starts a slow, careful grid, sweeping the water for bodies or boats.

Back on land an assembly and command area is starting to emerge six blocks out. Patrol, supervisor, another dog and another tactical team are enroute to the spot to wait.

Punisher has posed:
It'd take a few more minutes for Punisher to manage to find a manhole. He had been careful to keep away from the things that could linger on him after, but his boots were a lost cause.

Eventually, he finds the ladder, and takes a look above ground.

Frank Quaid has posed:
Manholes are neither light nor quiet. Luckily for the Punisher he is not right on top of a patrol car when he slides the cover open. He is about two blocks from the warehouse. The buildings he can see take at least a faint glint of red and blue from the patrol cars block off the various roads. There is one car about a block away to the west and another a block and a half away to the south. From the looks of it, there are patrol cars off to the north but they are way over on the other side of the warehouse where the Punisher washed up.

On the shoreline, the dog tracks the Punisher by his scent and the disturbed mud and rocks from his boots as he walked. The dog hits on where the Punisher sat for a time, but then pulls again to keep following the trail.

"You know this is a waste of time," Bae grumbles to his partner. "We ditched dinner for this?"

"Good thing, you were gonna get a complaint for harassing the server," Henderson quips. "Seriously. Was she even 25?"

"Long as she's an adult, it's all... Huh. You see that?" Bae remarks. He peers down the road toward the partially open manhole. "What idiot left that open? Should call City Works."

Henderson peers down the road as well. "Was that open before?"

Punisher has posed:
The Punisher was already rolled under a car by the time the cops had seen the cover opened. It was a perfect distraction for him to get down the road and sort through their car for anything useful.

He had already started to crawl his way down the line, keeping out of sight, as he waited for them to go investigate. It was a painful, slow process... but he had no choice.

This is why he trained so hard. For these moments.

Frank Quaid has posed:
"I don't think so..." Bae starts.

"Shit," Henderson says. "Dispatch Charlie-17. We've got a manhole cover open one block east of our quadrant."

"10-4 Charlie-17. Hotel-9 and Golf-5, routing you to Charlie-17's location for an open manhole two blocks from where the suspect was last seen. Charlie-17 hold your position and advise if you see anyone."

"10-4 dispatch," Henderson acknowledges. Both Henderson and Bae pull out their flashlights and sweep them over the area from where they stand by their patrol car. The helicopter diverts and starts to head in their direction.

On the shore, the dog leads its handler and the tactical team right to the pipe the Punisher went into.

"Dispatch Golf-4. PDS track leads to an outflow pipe south of the last known location of the suspect on the shoreline. Suspect is in the sewers," reports the tactical team leader.

"10-4 Golf-4. All units be advised the suspect is in the sewers. Charlie-17 do you copy?"

"10-4," Bae acknowledges. Both he and Henderson draw their firearms and scan more earnestly now, alert for any movement or sound.

Punisher has posed:
It's too late. Punisher had already managed to get parallel and was just on the other side of the car by the time they pull their guns. By the time they were going for them, he made his move.

In a split second, Bae is disarmed and elbowed in the face just hard enough to send him flying against the patrol car. Another split second, and he's making a mad dash for Henderson, going right for the elbow where his gun is probably out to lock it up with his own arms.

His intention is to lock Henderson up completely for a moment. He's not nearly at his best... but in comparison to the standards these street cops have? There's no contest.

"Keep calm, and you'll live through this." Punisher growls to the man. "What sort of unit count is coming here, right now? How many resources just got pulled?"

Frank Quaid has posed:
Bae catches the elbow in the cheek and reels back against the patrol car. Henderson sees what is happening and has his gun holstered by the time Frank reaches him and locks up his free arm.

"Get on the ground!" is Henderson's answer. He drives himself forward into the Punisher just as the Punisher feels arms reaching from behind him going for a choke hold.

Punisher has posed:
That forward momentum is taken head on with a grunt, and the arms are intercepted by his other arm, his injured arm. Once again, white hot fire lances through his arm... but he wills himself to keep going.

To do otherwise is to invite further injury either way.

"I didn't want to have to hurt you, but so be it." Punisher growls out as his uninjured arm is suddenly used to brute force against the mans gun arm, applying just enough pressure to break at the forearm, before releasing the man.

It'll be a good distraction for him to punch the man unconcious.

Frank Quaid has posed:
Henderson howls in pain as his off-hand arm is broken. While the Punisher is busy breaking Henderson's arm, Bae keeps squeezing his attempted chokehold and tries to stomp through the back of one of the Punisher's knees.

The sound of a helicopter is getting louder. A block away, an SUV and a cube van with NYPD markings and their lights going round the corner. Their headlights light up the fight going on.