9281/Vigilante Interests

Vigilante Interests
Date of Scene:	22 September 2019
Location:	An apartment safehouse
Synopsis:	Punisher and Rachel Grey have a discussion
Cast of Characters:	Marvel Girl, Punisher

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Marvel Girl has posed:
Rachel Grey doesn't have...friends. Much. Sure, there are some people she mostly trusts, a few people she was close to in her own time. But even those come with baggage now, as she tries to keep in mind that they're their own people. Add that to the fact that one of the few ways she's used to //making// friends is by becoming brothers in arms, and the Punisher might be the closest thing she's made to a new friend in a while.

If nothing else, he's interesting.

When she heard that he was the subject of a manhunt and presumed injured, the combination of the challenge of tracking down someone the police couldn't find combined with the urge to make sure he wasn't dead finally developed into enough of an itch in the back of her mind that she just had to scratch it. It wasn't easy. But then, Rachel has a few resources that aren't standard issue, along with the sort of training in tracking people down that doesn't fade easily from the mind.

Once she knows where to go, getting //into// the building is easy enough. A little jedi mind trick, and she's finally at the door. Though she at least has the sense to attempt mental contact before knocking. << Hey. You're not dead yet, are you? >>

Punisher has posed:
The manhunt had taken a lot out of him, making recovery time almost a month, instead of the weeks it should have been.

The Punisher might be self-destructive, but he isn't suicidal. Resuming his war with a hole in his gut was pretty much suicide. With one big exception, Punisher has been laying low to heal.

The Punisher had safehouses everywhere under fake IDs, using resources from those he hunts to handle all of it. Given everything, it'd be safe to say that finding him was very difficult.

Rachel Grey... would be one of the few people that could make tracking him down a lobby, if she was really inclined to do so.

When Rachel makes contact, she can feel a sudden adrenaline rush from whoever is on the other side of that door. There's a sudden combat awareness that only an extensively trained soldier would come into by reflex coming to that mind on the inside.

It's a fair bet that's the genuine Frank Castle inside... and she can feel a sudden focus lock in as Punisher aims a Remington 870 at the door. <<Who's askin'>>

That grating mental voice is Punisher, no question.

Marvel Girl has posed:
<< How many people do you know that can talk in your head? >> Rachel's mind is a powerful one. To be entirely honest, it's one that's lacking in finesse, enough that it's "loud," to the extent that a voice inside your head can be loud. There's a difference between it and her actual voice, the same way your voice on an answering machine always sounds different. But the attitude is there, along with something that feels almost like a memory of flame.

And, along with the sass, a quick flash of an image of her.

<< I'd be more worried about that gun if I didn't believe the door was reinforced so that no one can shoot //in//. Can I come in, or you want to talk like this? >>

Punisher has posed:
There's a long moment of silence from within. Rachel, if she cares to keep tabs inside, can feel the sudden running of dozens of scenarios going through Punisher's mind. Punisher is not a genius... but he's definitely one of the most tactically minded people Rachel has probably come across. There's a finesse to the way his mind works that only comes from someone who's been experienced in war for decades.

By all measures of time, he has.

Another moment passes, and the locks on the door come off one by one, until eventually the door opens. With a black sleeveless shirt and black pants on, Rachel can see the Remington 870 in his left arm -his good arm- aimed at her casually.

"I remember you." Punisher grates out. Finally, he lowers the shotgun to his side, casually. "Didn't expect you to come to me. This is new." Punisher notes with a bit of casualness to it.

As if people hunting him down to his safehouses was a regular occurrence... despite the fact that it isn't.

"Come on in, then." Punisher invites as he moves away from the door. There's a very slight limp to his right leg as he goes, and Rachel has seen some fresh scarring on his arms from both sides.

The inside apartment is fairly middle class compared to the dirty cheap suites he usually gets. But then, he's visibly healing from a fight.

Marvel Girl has posed:
When the door opens, Rachel is standing casually outside, as if people point guns at her every day. It helps when you can put up a telekinetic shield that no one else can see. Really sells the insouciance. The tattered black jeans and oversized black t-shirt that hangs off of one shoulder don't quite fit in with the building, but she never intended to be seen anyhow.

"Heard you might be in a bad way. I'm not a super nurturing person though, so I probably wouldn't have been much fun while you were trying not to bleed out." She makes sure the door is closed behind her after she walks in, resetting any security measures she can see before giving him a long look.

"Damn. They really fucked you up, didn't they?"

Punisher has posed:
"Who? The police? No, this is from Russia." Punisher explains as he plops himself onto the waiting couch again, replacing the shotgun at the foot. "I spent a couple weeks over there casing out Trask's shit. Turns out his security is shit, but good enough to give some solid hits." Punisher grunts, "He's out of the picture now, so healin' up before I go after the rest of them."

Marvel Girl has posed:
"Out of the picture," Rachel echoes, pensive. "Yeah. So I heard. Still not sure what I think about it, but I know it damn sure feels right, so."

She looks around for a place to sit, finally perching on the opposite arm of the couch, forearms on her knees and feet on the cushion. "The rest of them?" she echoes, quirking a brow back at him. "The rest of which?"

Punisher has posed:
"I honestly considered offing him, but he has too much information useful to the cops, so I let him live." Punisher grates out, before he takes a drink out of his glass. Water, from the looks of it. "Friends of Humanity. Got too much bullshit going on for me to ignore those assholes. Someones gotta put them out of commission."

Marvel Girl has posed:
"Some people make better martyrs than human beings," Rachel wrinkles her nose, shaking her head. "At least alive he can remind everyone what an asshole he is so they don't start thinking maybe he was right." At the mention of the friends of humanity, she tilts her head, mulling it over.

"You know there are...a lot of them, right?" she asks after a moment, arching a brow. "It's not like there's one chapter house with ten guys."

Punisher has posed:
"All the better. It'll keep me busy for a while." Punisher non-chalantly replies to her, "Between them and the Foot clan, I've got my hands full for a while."

Marvel Girl has posed:
Rachel's lips twitch with a hint of wry amusement. "Sounds like you've got your plate pretty full. Two whole one-man wars." Sitting up a little straighter, she takes a closer look around at the apartment, speculative.

"Easier to keep fighting than to figure out what the hell else you're supposed to do, though," she murmurs, seemingly to herself. She knows all of that too well herself. "Why the Friends of Humanity? How'd they get a spot on your war list?"

Punisher has posed:
"Frank Castle died with his family. That part of my life is over. Now all I have left is the war to punish the sort of people who let it happen." Punisher replies, "They call me The Punisher for a reason. I don't just kill my targets... I make them suffer." Punisher grabs for a throwing knife on the table in front of him, and he tosses it at the dartboard on the wall.

It's a near perfect bullseye.

"The Friends of Humanity are going after innocent mutants. If the cops won't deal with them. I will. It's what I do. Same for the Foot clan." Punisher looks to Rachel. There's a dead stare to his eyes at her. "I'm the Punisher because no one else will."

Marvel Girl has posed:
Rachel reaches out a hand without looking at the dartboard and the knife tugs out of it, flying back to her hand. Flipping it, she offers it back to him blade first. "Maybe not no one."

She purses her lips, trying to work through the words she wants to use before she speaks. "The time I came from. A mutant killed a Senator, for exactly that sort of buillshit. Then things got ugly, because people got afraid. Elected a president who ran on an anti-mutant platform. Basically outlawed existing after..." She pauses. "My mom was fighting some people in Pittsburgh. No one's entirely sure what happened, but it ended with an explosion that might as well have been nuclear. Went downhill after that."

Running a hand through her hair, she takes a slow breath. "Hit us where we lived. Killed the ones who fought or couldn't fight. Kept the ones they could //make// fight. Used us to find anyone who was left." Which explains how she found this place.

"All of which is to say that I'm not so much against killing them, because I've seen what comes out of that shit. But I also know it came from killing an asshole in the first place, so. Call me torn."

Punisher has posed:
"If you start worrying about how everyone in the world is gonna perceive your actions, you'll never get anything done." Punisher takes the knife back, putting it back on the table, never taking his eyes from Rachel. "Sure, your actions could have negative consequences... but so can getting up in the morning. That puts pressure on your back. Somethin' there might snap."

He takes another long sip of water, "Killin' some Senator might have been the catalyst, but it might not be here." Punisher notes, "I've been killin' the trash of society for years now. So far the only target on my back is the one I made for myself."

Marvel Girl has posed:
"It's not the targets on my back that worry me," Rachel shrugs. "I can take care of myself. It's the targets I end up putting on other people that wake me up at night." Not //keep// her up. She's learned how to grab sleep when she can. But once she's asleep, there's only so much she can control.

"You sure you can take on two wars right now?" she asks, head tilting to one side as she looks him over. "You're looking a little bit rough there."

Punisher has posed:
"I've been waging war against the global underworld for years now. A couple more organizations to add to the workload isn't gonna tip the balance." Punisher informs her with an air of wry amusement, "I'm touched you care. It isn't often people look past the brutality and methods to talk to me."

Marvel Girl has posed:
Rachel shrugs once more. "I've done some pretty...brutal things myself. Some of them not by choice. Others very much by choice. Not a lot of room to throw stones from this glass house."

Her smile quirks in return then, amused. "Besides, you can call it brutal, but it's been just about the most tactically sound I've seen since I got here, so. I can't really judge there either."

Punisher has posed:
"You spend almost a decade in the Special Forces, you pick up a few tricks." Punisher explains, "I get the impression you've been in a few wars, yourself, with your story."

Marvel Girl has posed:
"Yeah, you could say that." Rachel rubs a hand at the back of her neck, popping something. "I was just a kid when they hit us and brought me in, but that wasn't really a concern for them. I had powers, they were useful. Easier to break a kid than an adult, right? Until they get old enough to do something about it, and then I started fighting for the other side."

She catches the inside of her cheek between her teeth, eyes narrowing in memory. "Was kind of too late, though. Couldn't win with what was left of us against as many of them as there were. Came down to me and one other person and we were cornered. And then, boom. I'm here."

Punisher has posed:
"For what it's worth, I've been fightin' this war with Microchip as my only partner for years, now. I know all about being outnumbered." Punisher shrugs, "Of course, I have the benefit of knowin' my limits and knowin' where to hit to do real damage. I wage war so others don't have to." Another sip.

"Sounds like you might have some names for me to keep an eye on." Punisher asks, the implication clear.

Marvel Girl has posed:
"If I believed Ahab was here, I'd find him myself." Rachel's voice is cold and steady at that, but that threat of fire lies behind the words. "But I don't think he is, from what I've seen of this place. Or if he is, he's probably some clueless insurance salesman somewhere, or something like that. People like that...That's the ugliest part of all of it, you know?"

She slides down from the arm of the couch, sitting cross-legged on the cushion instead. "People who, if the world around them stays sane, live perfectly ordinary lives, just following the rules. But the minute they get the chance, the minute those rules and structures are gone, they become monsters. Monsters that didn't even have the strength to be monsters when it wasn't easy. But as soon as the system lets them..." She trails off, shaking her head.

Punisher has posed:
"Plenty of people would say I burn down the rules and structures of society." Punisher brings up his good arm, flexing the muscles a bit there, "They might even have a point, to a degree." He replaces the arm to his side. "What would you rate me as, if I'm not a monster?"

Marvel Girl has posed:
Rachel considers him for a long moment at that, and the fact that she's keeping her mind to herself is obvious from the intensity of the look. Sure, she could take a look beneath the hood, probably without trying too hard. But that sort of violation isn't exactly warranted here. Or likely to end well for her, for that matter.

"You're a soldier," she finally answers. "The last soldier," she adds. "Fighting your war alone. But it's a war, even if it's personal. It's planned. It's measured. It's tactical. Even the ugly parts. You're not doing it because you enjoy it. I'm not...sure you enjoy much of anything, honestly. You do it because it makes a statement. And when you're working alone, sometimes your work has to do some of the talking too."