Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters mentioned in this story, as much as I'd like to.

Loosely based on the protection episode of Gargoyles, but very loosely.

Please R&R.

PREY

Chapter 1: All The King's Men

Frank Castle is a man of routine. He exercises every day and makes sure he isn't sloppy. Calisthenics, striking drills, grappling drills, armed fighting, weapon and explosives training, weight-lifting; all are a part of his 6-day-a-week routine. It is boring for sure, when you do it every day. But a man who declared war on crime and is hunting criminals like animals cannot afford to be careless and sloppy. Every time he exercises he has danger in his mind, worst possible scenarios and escapes from them.

After training he took a shower, and switched on the TV in one of his safe-houses. There was a news report on a bombing of a local store. The owners were middle aged pair Art and Lois, and the reporter asked Art the following question: "Sir, do you have any idea who might have done this to your restaurant?"

"Oh yeah, I know exactly-" Art started the sentence, but was quickly stopped by his wife. "No he doesn't, he doesn't know anything." They both frowned.

"Yeah, well, it was probably an accident," Art reluctantly replied.

You DO know, Frank thought.

The reporter continued, "Unsurprisingly, witnesses seem afraid to come forward. But this new bombing has fueled police speculation that mob boss Anthony Dracon is tightening his grip on the protection racket in this area."

Frank picked up the phone and called his most beloved number: Microchip.

"Hello."

"Chip, it's me. I need information on Anthony Dracon."

"I guess you saw the news. I'll fax it to you tonight."

"Thanks."

Frank has a cold, monotonous way of speaking. His world is poor with emotions, ever since he became a vigilante and his associates got used to it. He rarely said more than necessary, and had a very callous approach to people. He got the papers on Dracon and started slowly and methodically composing the symphony of destruction. He will be dead, soon. It's just a matter of how. Phone tapping, house bugging and surveillance is the next thing to do. In these moments Frank felt like a cat assessing a mouse. He is the predator and the mighty criminals are his prey.

Days of surveillance followed. Phones of the closest associates are tapped; tracking devices have been put on their cars and Tony's. Dracon has one consigliore, a black man called Glasses. His most loyal henchman is Pal Joey. And, oh, BTW- he has a load of goons. He has been targeting local businesses and extorting money; very successfully one could say. But one thing was crucial for Frank and his mission. Dracon has been arrested for kidnapping a police officer, and he was released on bail. Another victory for the justice system, Frank thought. This is why he exists, to remedy the mistakes and fallacies of the law. To make sure no criminal goes unpunished. And the best way to ensure that is: DEATH. Execution, with extreme prejudice. No lawyer, no influence, no power raises one from his grave. Then, and only then, a criminal is harmless. No economy expenses for keeping them in prison, no relapse of crime activities on release.

Tonight he is following Pal Joey. Joey had a conversation with Dracon and got the instructions to eliminate a small law firm. Around 10PM Frank enters his garage, puts on a Kevlar suit, weapons and raincoat. He enters his Battlevan, the most sophisticated, high-tech armored van ever created.

"War Journal, new entry: Anthony Dracon, marked for punishment." Says Frank with a glimmer in his eye.

Joey stopped his car in front of the firm. Watching through his infra-red goggles, Frank notices a briefcase Joey is wearing and something else in his other hand. Time to move, Frank thought as he exits the van and sneaks behind Joey watching him enter this alley. Joey opens the door and throws what seems to be a gas grenade in the shop. Frank runs and jumps on Joey from behind.

"Don't move!", says Frank as he takes out his pistol and shoves it into Joey's cheek.

"OK, OK calm down," says Joey. Frank shoves him into the wall headfirst. Joey groans in pain. Frank is standing straight, pointing his gun at Joey.

"I suspect that there's a bomb in a suitcase. Am I wrong?" asks Frank.

"Who da hell are you?"

Frank kicks him in the head. "I'm asking the questions! Answer and I'll be quick."

"Do you know who I am?" says Joey while lying on the ground, bloodied.

"I know that. Pal Joey, an enforcer for that skunk Dracon. And he sent you to destroy this place, I presume?"

"Ever heard of police brutality? I'll have your badge for this motherfucker!"

"What makes you think I'm a cop?" says Frank as he unbuttons his coat. The sight of the skull on Frank's chest visibly surprised Joey.

"You really think Dracon will let you get away with this? One of these suitcases will be visiting you shortly."

"Not if I visit Dracon first," says Frank as he cocks his pistol.

"Wait, what are you doing?" asks Joey, visibly scared.

"Do you have a family, Joey?" Frank asks in a sincere tone.

"No."

BANG! He shoots him in the head.

Then nobody will miss you. Frank took the suitcase, along with all the money from Joey, who is lying down with a bullet hole in his forehead. He went to his van, entered in the driver's seat and said: "War Journal, Pal Joey eliminated. Bomb is taken, civilians are safe."

Half an hour later police have secured the crime scene. Elisa Maza and Matt Bluestone arrive.

"OK, what do we have here?" Elisa asks the officer on the scene.

"Victim shot from point blank in the forehead. Wallet empty, which leads to robbery as a possible motive."

"Who is the victim?", Bluestone asks. They remove the sheet off the body. Elisa is shocked. Joey, one of Dracon's most trusted employees is shot from point blank. Not any petty robber could just come and kill Joey.

"Any weapons on him?" Elisa asks.

"No. But, there was an incident possibly related to this one. A gas grenade has been thrown in this firm's office, knocking out the workers," another officer replies.

"Interesting. Maybe it was Joey's target, and whoever killed him wanted to prevent it. Dracon probably had that firm on his racket list," Matt commented.

"Like a vigilante or another gang member? If so, where is the bomb?" asks Elisa.

"Good question," the officer comments.

"Whoever did this was a pro. This is Pal Joey who is lying there, not some thug who is easy to rob," Elisa said.

"Any eyewitnesses?" Matt asks the officer.

"An elderly guy from a neighboring building saw the murderer, he is talking to Officer Murdoch right there," says he pointing at the small man with a cap being interrogated. Elisa and Matt went over there introduced themselves, and asked the routine questions about whereabouts and time when he witnessed the event.

"So, Mr. Flanagan, you didn't actually see the face of the shooter?" Matt asked.

The man tried his best to remember. "No, mister. The street light was not bright enough to remember his face. He had dark hair and a raincoat, definitely. But for a second I managed to see him when he unbuttoned it. On his chest there was some sign. I think it was a skull."

"A skull?" Elisa looked puzzled.

"Yes, I believe so," said the old man "It was big, covering his entire torso."

"OK, thank you for your time."

"Let's go. The coroner might have something new for us later," said Elisa. They drive off.

An hour later, Dracon saw Joey's death on the news. He immediately called Glasses to come over. He was there in half an hour.

"There's no way this was an accident," Glasses remarked.

"You're right; somebody is trying to swim in my pool. But who? We have no competition on Manhattan," Dracon wondered.

"Not since the Kundalini family was erased. And they tried to pin that on us, too."

"Remind me, what did happen to them?"

"They were killed; every important member and some unimportant ones too. Most of them were killed in an explosion of a warehouse where they tried to make an arrangement with some local dealers," Glasses said.

"So, there might be a new player in town. Whoever he is, he'll pay dearly!" says Dracon, clenching his fist.

The next day, Joey's burial was held and Frank had plenty of opportunity to observe from the roof of a local tenement with his binoculars. He wanted to remember every important face of the Dracon gang. Later in his home he connected the faces with the dossiers Chip gave him.

As the night fell, Frank went to pick up a few groceries. A mundane job, but he had no maid. He never liked contact with people on an everyday basis. Anti-social behavior is something that comes with job. As he left the store he saw a woman with two kids walking on the pavement. Kids were very energetic; they kept asking questions about the silliest things. For a second he was entertained by that vision. But then, he remembered. The park, the blood, the bodies. He slowly sat down on a bench; with eyes closed and mouth half-open, trying to take a deep breath. This is why you do, what you do. This is why you are, who you are. His lips whispered a word:

"Punisher."

As he snapped out of these thoughts, he continued to his safe-house, one of a couple he had in New York. Suddenly a man jumped out of a bush with a knife.

"Stop, give me all your money!" a man said not too loudly since he was afraid someone might hear them.

This was a first for Frank. He was never robbed in his life. He held the groceries in one hand and said "Are you sure you wanna do this?"

"Give me all your money or I'll cut you open!" The young man raised his voice, clenched his teeth, and approached with the knife in his hand. Frank pulled out the gun from his coat with his right hand. "Don't move."

The robber had gone pale. "OK, just don't shoot!" He dropped the knife.

"Now, you were willing to carve me up for the money…" Frank sneered.

"I thought you were rich. I-I…"

"And you wanted to even the economic injustice of the world. Well unfortunately for you, you ran into the wrong guy."

"Let me go, I won't do it anymore, I promise!"

Frank cocked his gun. "I'm sure you won't. Because I won't give you the chance!" he said as he aimed at the robber. The robber started retreating in fear.

BANG! Frank shot him in the chest. He walked away, disgusted, while the motionless body stared with dead eyes into the sky. These wretched animals! One by one, I will cut them down like trees. From the lowest street rat to the richest kingpin; for as long as I can, I will hunt them. When he came into the house, he put the groceries in the fridge, and took a bottle of whiskey.

Elisa went to meet her friends the Gargoyles. After enjoying another scene of stone monsters coming alive for the night, she is approached by Broadway, who greeted her. "Hey, Elisa. I heard Pal Joey is dead. Is it true?"

"Yes, big guy."

"So, do you know who did it?"

"I wish I did. All I know is that this complicates the hunt for Dracon even more." Elisa frowned.

Goliath asked, "Is this connected with that protection racket I've heard of?"

"Maybe, a gas grenade was thrown in a nearby law firm before he was shot. Guys… I might have to go undercover, infiltrate their outfit."

Goliath growled. "That could be dangerous. Let us help!"

"No, you could compromise his arrest. We have to put him in jail permanently. It is the only way."

"Didn't you do it already, lass?" Hudson remarked. "And what happened after?"

"This time it will be different. We will nail him. But I need you to promise me you won't interfere, deal?"

"I like your confidence," Brooklyn said, smirking.

Goliath was uneasy with this, but since it meant so much to Elisa he chose to fulfill her wish.

For the next couple of days, Dracon was laying low. But Elisa wasn't. She entered the extortion racket and ventured into Dracon's turf. Frank presumed that Tony was a bit apprehensive after Joey's murder, so he wasn't surprised by the drought of criminal activities. Elisa went undercover without her Boss's authorization. This could get her in deep trouble if it doesn't work.

During the following week, 3 of Dracon's enforcers turned up dead. New men were hard to recruit, due to the fear. Tony's activities were rapidly decreasing and money had stopped flowing. Elisa went to work as usual, fearful that she might be discovered by Captain Chavez and suspended. This was her chance to shine. Taking down Tony Dracon had been her desire for years. If she has to bend the rules a little, this time she will.

She and Bluestone were talking at the water cooler. Matt was conducting an operation for the police; he acts as a grocery clerk, trying to get Dracon's men recorded if they come to collect protection money. Several stores are being used as bait in this way.

"Anything new Matt, did anybody come to threaten?"

"One guy did, and he did mention Dracon, but there is something strange going on. That guy is now in the morgue."

"Really?"

"Yeah, and he is not alone. Several men, who we suspect were collecting money for Dracon, ended up dead."

Elisa was thinking, "Hmm, remember what we talked about when we saw Joey's body?"

"Yeah, I've been thinking about that too. Could be that some new gang is trying to eliminate Dracon…"

"That's one hell of a gang, if that's the case…but I checked the archives. No gang has the chest sign the old man described."

Matt started thinking out loud. "What if it's… one man?"

Elisa almost chuckled, "Come on, Matt. Who would be so dumb to go against Dracon single-handedly?"

"But this gang, if it is one, is very different. No fingerprints or any kind of clue after the hit. Too professional looking, in my opinion."

"Maybe, but the killer is not working alone. That's nonsense."

Meanwhile, Glasses has informed Dracon of Elisa's activities. Tony was really flustered about his henchman being killed, and it was beginning to show.

"You don't think Maza could be behind this? No, she is not…but, maybe…GODDAMMIT!" Dracon threw his glass out the window.

"I'm sick and tired of this! Someone is picking apart my outfit and we have no idea who! We have to see what Maza knows. Go and pay her a visit! And don't behave like a gentleman," said Dracon with a vile expression.

"Sure, Tony."

"You can use my limo."

He entered the limo and instructed the driver to go to the corner of 48th and Broadway. The driver replied: "Sure, boss."

It was a well-equipped limo with a bulletproof windows, even the glass that divides the front and back seat was bulletproof. At one point Glasses noticed that they were going the wrong way.

"Hey, I don't think that's…" and then to his horror, he realized, this was not Tony's driver. He panicked and tried to open the door, but the main lock was in driver's hands.

Frank finally spoke. "Just a slight detour, four-eyes."

"Who are you and what do you want?"

"I want a world peace, and a world free of scum and criminals," said Frank sarcastically.

"I think you are aiming too high. And I know you got the wrong man. Do you know who I am?"

"Oh yeah," Frank sneered. "A criminal and your history is similar to many of your kin. Had no basketball at age 10 so you decided to join a gang, which was followed by petty crime which has risen to big crime. Tony Dracon's consigliore; big time, indeed."

"You know who I work for. Then you must know what he will do to you if something happens to me."

Frank smirked. "The same thing he did to me when I killed Joey?"

Glasses was stunned. He quickly tried to regain his composure with a question, "So, you killed Joey? Who do you work for?"

"For Art and Lois. For those cops you kidnapped. For every man, woman, or child whose life you've destroyed!" said Frank with clenched teeth.

"You really think you can take down Dracon's outfit by yourself? You're insane!"

"Does the name Kundalini ring a bell?"

Glasses was stunned once again. He tried to speak, but his tongue wouldn't move. His mouth was wide open.

Frank noticed that and said "Yeah. I blew up that warehouse."

"How about the Santorino boss Vito from Brooklyn? Or that drug cartel from Queens? Or the drop in drug dealing activities in whole New York? Are you getting the picture now?"

The car stopped on a cliff outside of town. Frank turned around and Glasses was finally able to see the face of a determined and angry man. Frank exited the car and took out his gun. He unlocked the door and motioned Glasses to come out. He knew that he didn't have a gun. Glasses came out and noticed a skull sign on Frank's chest.

"Don't be stupid man," Glasses said nervously. "We can work something out, I'll pay you."

"Oh you will. With your life!" Frank cocks his pistol, and aims it.

Glasses is now petrified with fear. "Don't do it man…"

"How does it feel, you leech? How does it feel to be like all of those people whose life you have destroyed? ARE YOU HAVING FUN?"

Glasses is now on his knees. "I'll help you nail Dracon, I know everything he knows!"

"I'm not the police and I don't negotiate. I am your judge and jury, and I pronounce you guilty. And if you're guilty…"

BANG! Glasses falls down like a rag doll. "…you're dead!"

Frank took from his pocket a small microphone. "Battlevan, action 2, at present location."

He then opened the limo trunk, which had the original driver inside, also dead. He placed Glasses in the trunk and closed it. He entered the car, lowered the hand brake, exited and watched it slowly go over the edge. The Battlevan came soon.

Frank got behind the wheel. "War Journal, new entry. Glasses is dead."

As he was driving home the adrenaline was making him feel vibrant. Killing criminals has become a sort of a drug for him. And like every drug it needs regular use. But also, like every drug there are side-effects. With every man he kills he is less human and more machine. It's a joyless, hapless existence, driven by rage and obsession. Like an animal, it is instinct and training that keeps him going. Beyond reason, and perhaps, beyond sanity.