Owner	Pose
Nick	Malcolm Moretti is getting up there in age. No, he's not OLD old. It's just considering one of his occupations, it's a miracle he's reached 50. Also with the age gap it kind of answers some questions on how he was able to take Green under his wing so easily. Although, 18 years of being sequestered away on a shitty town in Florida has taken its toll on his physique. He's not running any marathons soon, seemingly living off of whatever fast food his small stipend from the US government can afford him, along with what he gets from the septic tank cleaning job he got and was trained for courteousy of the US Marshalls. (Gee. Thanks Uncle Sam). Yes, not only is the town shitty, but so is his job. His uniform is stored away on the other side of the house so as not to mess with his relaxation time. But hey, it beats dying. And so, complaints he may have, he sleeps well, he sleeps heavy due to some liquid assistance, and he sleeps long, not a care in the world. That is, until he wakes up, finding himself unable to move off of his bed. "Hu-?" Bleary eyed, he opens his eyes. Pupils adjusting to the light while his head is already pounding.
Punisher	"Good morning, asshole." Comes the grating voice of the Punisher. "It took me a bit of work, but I'm here now." Sitting back in the chair, Frank already has a couple of his torture tools to one side, out of sight. "Turns out the Marshalls love to cut corners lettin' trash like you run free." He smiles, "I'm here to correct their error in judgment."
Nick	"The fuck is this?!" Moretti snaps, jerking up only for the ties to bring him back down. The man in hiding for 18 years glares at the other man, not seemingly recognizing him right off the bat. "BRUTUS! GNASH! TIM!" He turns his head, glancing towards the doorway, closer to floor level in expectation only to find nothing coming. "Wh-"
Punisher	"You're not gettin' a bunch of dogs killed over your own bullshit. Let me be clear." The Punisher stands, takes a knife, brings it up by it's point above him, and looks into Moretti's eyes, "This is your last day on this earth. It can either be a quick exit, or I can drag it out. A lot. if you answer my questions truthfully, I'll make it quick." Cold, icy eyes leans forward a bit, "please, give me a reason to make it slow."
Nick	Moretti's eyes narrow, not breaking the stare that Frank initiated. He leans his head forward as much as he can, challenging. Not at all looking to the knife. There's no point really. "Who sent you?"
Punisher	"Me." Frank answers, simply. "You may have heard of me. Call me the Punisher."
Nick	Moretti gives him a blank stare. "The what now? You're not from around here, are you?"
Punisher	"It doesn't matter." Frank nods. "Why'd you kill the woman?"
Nick	Punisher gets rewarded with yet another stare. Considering the question. "...New York?"
Punisher	"The woman you got sent to this shithole for." Punisher confirmed.
Nick	"Ah. Her." Moretti, tilts his head back, closing his eyes for a moment as he gives a smile, "That was an interesting turn of events. I'm almost not angry at G for it."
Punisher	"Oh? Why's that?" The Punisher asks. He's got a good idea who 'G' is, but that isn't important right now.
Nick	"The sheer speed in which the DEA popped in to take the case." Moretti replies, giving a chuckle, "G narced so quick that I had barely set foot back in New York before they had me. Worked for me considering how long Belmonte holds grudges. Surprised the kid made it to adulthood."
Punisher	"Drug wars tend to get their attention fast." The Punisher notes, "Why did you do the hit?"
Nick	Malcolm shakes his head, "Does it really matter? Even if I hadn't someone else would have found them." The man closes his eyes, giving a relaxed sigh as he tilts his head back, seemingly not caring about his current predicament, as he gives off a lazy smile, "My way was just quicker."
Punisher	"If matters if I say it matters." The Punisher grates, "Let me be clear; I'm not interested in excuses or half-truths. For every question you refuse to answer clearly and in detail, I pull off a nail. Once your nails are gone... I start working on toes. Then, I go for fingers." He leans forward, ice in his eyes, "You don't want to know where I go after that."
Nick	There's a brief pause at the tone of voice Frank gives Moretti. But with Malcolm's eyes closed, the staredown is not as effective with the intimidation factor. "Ah but it was so long ago." Malcom replies, "Fifteen? No... longer. Seventeen? Eighteen years? A lot happens in that amount of time. A lot of things get forgotten. Had to go remember a new story for when I came here. Had to forget some things." He lingers a few moments more. "Money. Owed some. Owed a lot. Forgot how much but... The price on them was more than enough to get out. And then some. "
Punisher	"Basically, one life in exchange for your own, instead of being a reasonable person and going to the police for protection." The Punisher keeps the ice in his voice, "Ruin the lives of others because you were too cowardly to deal with the consequences of your own actions." Sometimes, torture was meant to gather information. This man, however, had just sealed his fate as a thug who was going to be 'dealt with' as a message. "So you owed money, and took a hit job from a rival. Then, instead of paying for your bullshit, the DEA gives you an out because you happened to know information on Belmont, that about right?"
Nick	"Ruin..." Moretti shakes his head, shaking his head, as he laughs, "She left New York to go hide in GOTHAM. There's nothing much lower to experience than THAT. If anything, I did that kid a favor."
Punisher	"Trash like you is how my family was killed." The ice is dangerously level in his voice. He was going to send a message with his corpse... but Moretti had just laughed about the mother. In essence, he had just laughed about the fate of the Castle family. "Enjoy your last day on Earth, Moretti..." The Punisher stood up, took the gag from the tray and put it on his subject, and grabbed the power drill. "Time to send a message to the DEA about letting trash like you live." By the end of the day, what was left of the body of Malcom Moretti would barely be enough to be identified. The note, however, made it clear what happened. "Courtesy of the Punisher. I don't let trash get away with murder'