War journal max

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  1. December 3 1985 punishers war journal:
    i light a cig as I walk down the rained on pavement of Brooklyn. My trench coat travels behind me blowing in the wind. I haven't shaved I don't have fucking time for appearances right now. Jack the snake, as his gang buddies call him, has to pay. He wasn't even green lighted for the drive by that took three year old Susan's life. Only three not much older then my daughter was. My fists clench like breathing. The people on the streets give me a wide breath. If they don't recognize me, they recognize the fire in my eyes.

    This wasn't a job. It was punishment. I would take jobs now and then. Then there were these the more personal ones. The ones the dug beneath the scars. I didn't have much on me. A ka bar knife always a good tool. Two .45 semi automatic pistols, classic design. One shot stopping power with an eight shot mag. I carried one extra mag in my cargo pants. Underneath my now famous skull shirt I wore a lv 3 bullet proof vest. One flash bang. I saw the parking lot where snake boy hung out with a few of his buddies. A cafe was across the street from it. As I opened the door a bell chimed. I had a perfect window view of his gang. An alley behind the parking lot was my escape into a jeep I parked nearby yesterday. Three years old..my fists clench again. After the streets clear and the lot empties ,except for them, I know it's time to go to work.

    I walked out of the cafe as night descended. None of them saw me approach. Too busy with their rap shit. I pulled my knife with my left hand and stuck the first guy in the right side of the neck. His song ended as he reached for his wound, I pulled his 9mm with my right. He fell to the ground hands trying to pressure the wound as blood gushed between his fingers. He had 5 minutes max. Two shots went into Jacks other friend as his hand reached his gun. I pulled the trigger on jack but it was empty. So I rolled to the left and tossed the gun at his face. He ducked, I charged, knife going into his gut. " This is Susan." i told him as his mouth filled with blood. His own bleeding and the stomach acid would finish him off. I picked his cell off him, better way to locate more scum and headed to my jeep. Just another nights work.
  2. I kept to myself, ya know, I didn't get in much trouble. I could fight, sure, but I avoided most scruffs because I already was on parole. I didn't need another d*** reason to go back to prison. I didn't have the cleanest record on this side of the tracks for sure, but I steered clear of trouble these days. Or tried to, but sometimes....trouble came after me.

    I felt the arm around my neck, hauling me into an alley, before I was shoved back against the wall. "Well hey there Damien, how've you been since you got out?"
    "Hehe, good Sam," I said, keeping my back against the wall. The one time I don't have a knife. "Expected at the parole office, actually, so I kinda need to get going."
    "Don't worry bout that s*** anymore, Damien, you won't have to worry for long." The gun was a little much, but I got the point. I'd get reported that I didn't show to my meeting next week and then my body would be found in a creek two weeks after that. "You crossed the wrong guy, b****, and you're gonna pay for it now."
    "Come on, Sam! I turned state only because I wanted to actually get out of prison!" I said, lifting my hands slightly, "You've done the same s*** before!"
    "Yea, but you didn't cross a dead man, did ya?" The old revolver click as he pulled the hammer back and I shut my eyes. What? You try staring down a gun barrel and tell me you don't flinch.

  3. As I'm heading to my jeep I hear an argument. Something about a guy wanting to get out, or already was. I'm not one for second chances, most eventually fall on old habits. If he wasn't there already at gun point though, he might actually mean it. Especially since I wasn't the one holding the gun. If I was most would say anything thinking they will get out alive. That doesn't happen. I could go gun blazing, but that has problems. He could panic and kill the man. If I snuck up on him and take him out a muscle twitch could discharge his weapon, and bullshit about a magic shot to the brain so that won't happen it's all Hollywood. A shot from behind might pass through him and hit the other guy. So I suppose there was only one way to do this.

    I walked out in the open, unarmed. My hands at my side, and kicked a can to get his attention before I said anything. " you might wanna think twice about that. You pull that trigger your next. Or you can back away, and say you survived an encounter with the Punisher. Should get you some street cred. Your call." What happens next was up to this guy , I hope he hasn't been drinking.
  4. S***, s***, s***. Litterally, that's all I could think. Once he was done with Rum Man Sam, he'd come after my a**. I wasn't the best guy around, had a rep of my own from before I got out. It's why most still picked fights or avoided me. I was kinda hoping Sam would end me, Punisher's rep went farther than mine.

    Sam, being the drunk he was, turned on the Punisher with a vengance. "I'd rather be known as the man who killed him." He was pulling the trigger when I found I could move. No, I was scared, but I had shut down at the gun, my way of now avoiding violence. I kicked out just as he pulled the trigger, throwing the line of fire off just enough. Or I hope, cause his fist kinda stopped me from seeing. "Stay outta this, Damien, it'll be your turn soon enough." Hit to the gut, and I wasn't willing to hit back. Parole. Parole. But I the old me was there, and he struck out after the next hit. Out of shape, a little, but pretty good hit. Course that didn't stop the next twenty landing on him.

    "F*** you, Sam." I muttered, wiping the blood away as Sam turned back to Punisher. Apparently, that was his last round in the revolver. But he was still to drunk to back off.

    "Come on, b****." Sam said, motioning with a drunken grin.

    ((Yes, you can kill Sam. He's an NPC))
  5. ( I figured :)
    The gun discharged and the other guy had enough sense to move. Even tried to fight back. After a brief encounter the guy with the guy, who I could tell was drinking, came at. His gun was empty but it didn't stop him. He was probably seeing double. Thought he wasn't in the line if fire as a bullet entered his brain, blowing the back of his skull to bits as the bullet exited. There he lay, like so many others. After awhile these thugs all look the same. They think they have a name, a rep something to protect them. I show them just how wrong they are. I'm not lost in this war. In the end I know I can't win. The battles are what matter. Every sum bag off the streets is an unknown number of lives saved, their faces I may never know. A few times I do, that's what helps me go on. I don't have much use for good memories, I kill them or drink them away they can unfocused you. But every now and then I hold onto one. I put my piece away and look at the man on the ground. He's not bleeding. Must mean the dead guys weapon wasn't that powerful or he might have lost an ear from the shrapnel of the brick being chipped. Lets see how far his luck can go. " what's your name. And what was going on here? Lie to me and I'll know."
  6. I spat blood, ignoring Sam's dead body. I'd seen my share and I'd seen worse than that. Punisher on the other hand. No way was I crossing him. Normally, I'd lie my way out, it's how I lived this long, but not with him. Like I said, his rep got around. "Damien. Damien Skinner." I said; my name was decently known, I used to be a mob-hired hitman, my rule no kids or women. I had morals. I wiped the blood off my lip; split lip from a punch, not the gun. The gun wasn't that powerful, but a head shot would have been enough to end me. "Back last year I turned state, ratted out one of the mob bosses...I wanted to get out, see, my girl'd had a kid. My son. I wanted to see him grow." I rubbed my neck. Honestly, I hadn't seen my son since I'd got out. His mom wanted nothing to do with me, not till I got my life together. I was trying, I was.

    "Anyway, I crossed the wrong guy...apparently... I've managed to dodge trouble up till now but guess I shoulda seen it coming." I shook my head, rubbing my knuckle. I wasn't as good a fighter as I once was, but I was still better than most on these streets.
  7. Sarah passed by not caring what in the world was happening. She learned not to scream when she saw a gun and she knows how to use one. "Boys. They always have to do something stupid like point a gun around just to show off. Pathetic."
    Minus the pink bow
  8. Damien Skinner, the name rolls around in my head, like loose change in a pocket. Then I remember. He was a hit man for mob contracts. No alligeance just the job. It was said no women and children. Only enemies of the mob other families. So in a way he was like me. Except he wasn't was he? He took out one monster so another could grow. Alright more like me then I care to admit. He vanished years ago what was it late 70's, last seen in some town away from all that hippie bull going on. At least those were the rumors. His story about a family hit me.
    " I know who you are. If your trying to go clean what are you doing in your old neighbor hood? You didn't cross the wrong guy, we both know you knew him. You'd of seen him coming before he got that close to you." I see a figure out of my eye and spot a girl walking past on the sidewalk near the street. A girl like that walking these mean streets. Since she's not already a victim, I assume she's selling her body, or drugs. How else could she survive? Brooklyn women had to be strong, don't travel alone, and font wear revealing clothing. Makes you a target for the sickos. I turn my attention back to Damien. I heard about the trial he did turn. I had bigger things to do. I flip open Jacks cell. It's not even password protected. Open his messages, least those are deleted. His contacts list isn't. I look through the names as I wait for Damien's answer.
  9. Sarah stops and looks at the man. "I know what your thinking. Why is a sweet looking girl like me down here? Well because I'm bored. I'm not the type of girl you think I am."
  10. "Told you, I got a son." I muttered, rolling my shoulder. "He lives in this neighborhood with his mother. I gotta keep him safe somehow and they threatened him. If I didn't get back in town, it was his life not mine." I shook my head, hitting my hand against the wall behind me. "You're right, I knew who I was crossing, but he had a family killed, man, woman, and the two kids. He tried hiring me, that's how I knew."

    I shook my head, looking at the phone in the guy's hand. "That's Jack's cell, so I guess Sam ain't the only one you got around to. " I glanced at the woman at the end of the alley but left her up to the Punisher to talk too. Not his business.
  11. The girl in on the street says something, but she's too far to hear. Might be trying to call for help. I'd have to move soon. This guy was being straight with me. Protecting your family, it's whst I'd do if the world hasn't taken them away from me. I look at his contacts, there are 7 of them. I'm a bit suprised I don't know any of them. This news about another family has me rattled. It wasn't even covered by the media.

    I hand the phone over to him. " you wanna do anything about it, tell me whst you know about his contacts. Then I have work to do, there will be more cops during the daylight and I'd rather not be here. After that go home and protect your family. You seem to realize they are all that matters in a world where everything else lets you down." How many names does he know. Ill end up pulling background checks and police records on all of them anyways, but more information the better off ill be. If this guy dosent stay on the narrow, he'll just end up another target on my list. I lean against the wall next to him and light s cig as I wait.
  12. I took the phone lightly, but said quietly, "I can't...the guy you're rumored to be after...he took them a few nights ago...I gotta do a job, or they're dead anyway..." I shook my head, looking down at the phone and the contacts. I knew all seven. "First one's just a messenger boy, Justin Cates; he's never killed a man before or anything of the like. Second one, Grism, he's a street guy, drugs, alcohol, the works." I looked at the other names with resentment.

    "Kyle, Grim, and Vim, they're the literally called the Gruesome Three. Want a job to look like an actual hit, they're the ones you call. The last two are the twins, Jake and John, they are the ones every mobster calls if they want a hit to look like an acident." I handed the phone back, shaking my head, "None of them have a record, they're clean, but they've done things even makes me squirm. The twins took my kid and his mom. The job I gotta do...kill a judge. I've got a week, that's it...life screws over those that try and last in it."
  13. I take back the phone and slip it into my coat. I had a few options but this guy was the best one. I normally work alone, but it seemed even I would need help with these scum. " Me and you both know, you won't be doing that hit on the judge. Worse comes to it and we run outta time, we can stage a false death for him and make him dissappear." I shook my head this group seemed pretty advanced for normal street crime something else had to be going on here.

    " If you wanna do something to get your family back, follow me and help out." I finish my smoke and toss it on the ground. The orange tip dies out as I move towards the street. " messenger boys, they never wanna stay that way. A friend, a relative, someone got them in the mix with empty promises of fame and an easy life. They wanna climb the latter. All the info runs through them, he might not be a killer but he'll know things. I wanna know those things."

    When I found those things out, I was planning on scaring that kid straight, if what Damien said was true he might have a chance. The rest of the gang were already in their graves. I had to take this guy to one if my safe houses under the streets. I had plenty, could clear it out in 30 minutes flat. Ammo, gear, supplies, and military grade computer systems it was everything I needed. But the houses were small made them less noticeable. " I hope your not claustrophobic." I said turning to him. I hear a few cop sirens in the distance, must have found Jack's body. " now or never kid help me finish this, or go home."
  14. "I would if I got desperate." I said, looking at him again. Was the Punisher, the guy who killed guys like me, offering to help? Seriously, did I smoke something that I didn't know about? I didn't hesitate to follow him though, he was literally my best chance at getting my family back. "Justin lives over on South End, above the old dance club. Lives alone, and he is trying to climb the ladder. Best informant on this side of town that's for sure. I just know people, he knows everything about those people."

    I looked at him, eyebrow raised slightly. "You're kidding? I was buried alive for two days. Small spaces don't affect me anymore." I shook my head, looking down at my hand. "I pride myself by what I've been through, so I've managed to survive that best way I can. I ain't the best guy on earth, I'm among the worst, but I manage to keep a decent life...now I've got an even better reason." I looked back at him, a smirk on my face, "I'm in, Punisher, but we can't be going that way." I turned the the building beside us, hitting the door on the hinged side. It swung open and I motioned inside, "I'll let us out three streets over, just head downstairs to the basement and follow the arrows on the doors." I chuckled and ducked inside, waiting at the door so I could close it correctly.
  15. I turned to him as he told me I couldn't go that way. How did he know which way I'd go when I hit the street? I wasn't suprised he knew where the building went this was his area. I had only scouted it, he had lived here. Still a red flag went up in my mind. " don't get me wrong I'm giving you a second chance you mess up your dead as well. Must scum don't have a reason to change, you do." I didn't trust this guy, but I did need him. We weren't going to become friends. I don't have any friends, emotional ties slow you down cloud your thought process.

    I ducked into the building, aware he hasn't closed the door, this could be a trap. That didn't make sense though, too much troubled he had the opportunity before to set me up. The interior was dark and dank, smelled like piss. Probably a homeless mans kingdom. You could tell the place hadn't been in use for years, leaking water pipes dripped here and there. The dust in here makes me couch. The sound sends a rat racing across the floor. After a moment my eyes adjust to the dark.

    If those arrows are glow in the dark, I might have a problem. Looking ahead I see some old stairs heading down. Any weight looks like they'll collapse. Turning I wave Damien inside. From this point on I'm on alert. I don't know this area, or who might be down here if anyone. " let's do this quick and quiet, you got a weapon?"
  16. "You kidding?" I said, shutting the door and jamming it back into place. "I get caught with a weapon, it's back to prison." I smirked, however, and went over to an old dresser, the only other thing in the room. "But, this is my side of town." The old Beretta was still in good condition, and one of the few that I'd actually legally bought.

    "Anyway, these old basements all connect, mobsters use them as escape routes. Justin has used them before, most everyone has." I said, leading the way down the old stairs. "Don't mind the rats, old Homeless Joe keeps them as pets. He's a schizophrenic but a good man." I shook my head, hitting the switch at the bottom of the stairs. The lights flickered on, and I looked back at him, "The cops woulda spotted you a mile away, trust me. And I didn't need to be seen with you." I led the way through the three basements, nodding lightly to Joe and one of his rats. "More people than Joe live here, but he rarely leaves."
  17. Old habits could save your life, then again they could get you killed too. He moves to a dresser and takes out an old Beretta. It's a semi-auto pistol with a drop mag release. I note he dosent check the safety or mag for ammo. That might be a mistake for him later. My hand drifts away from my own .45 as he continued. Something about a man named Joe. I guess there was a homeless king here after all. My eyes squint as he hits a switch illuminating the lower levels.

    Mobster escape routes. That was new. Most of the time, they hid behind their thugs shouting orders. Others ran fronts, using one business to cover a dirty one. They tried to hide behind the publics eye. There was only one man years ago I heard whispers of in Vietnam. He only had a code name, The Jackal. A mastermind in explosives and terrorism, hand to hand combat and disguise. He was rumored dead. If he was alive, he'd be the only man to give me pause. Legends say his family was killed in a war. Driven by rage he used his spec ops training to blow a building full of all the top leaders of the government responsible. Then he did the same to the other side. After the military caught on he vanished. Showed up in Coasta Rica as a political movement leader leading hundreds of peaceful citizens to their slaughter. He was rumored to die there. I frowned at the thought, it was a big leap but that's how he operated. I continued to follow Damien.
  18. Old habits. Things that could get men killed. I didn't check the mag, I didn't check the safety. I didn't need to. I'd been drafted to 'Nam years ago, spent two tours there, barely made it back. To me, there was no such thing as an unloaded gun or a safety switch. This was no exception, since I'd checked all my stashes three days ago. Course, it was cause of 'Nam that when I'd come back I'd started back my old life. You try finding a job after you spent years watching people die. I became a hitman sought after. I never missed my target and for the most part my one rule was worth it to most.

    I shoved the old door open, glancing into an ajoining room before heading upstairs. I shoved the old door open by it's hinges, checking the street outside before stepping out and waiting for Punisher to come out before shutting it correctly again. Probably should have double checked, but I turned anyway, pulling the Beretta free and pulling the trigger. The knife wielder went down first shot and I put my pistol away again. "Toni Ruin, hired hit man, kills his targets much like me, but his last one took out a kid too. He deserved what I just done." I shook my head walking passed the body and out the end of the alley, taking a breath and looking back. "Lead the way, I don't know your safe house."
  19. Despite the twists and turns of the underground, we are out quicker then I expected. I'd have to come back at later time and map out those tunnels, if for nothing else to see where they go, who might still be using them. A shot rang out as I turned around. Some guy with a knife, but it really wasn't a threat. Daniel said a name, guy was a hit man had to die. I agreed, but he acted too soon. I turned and gave Damien a stern look.

    " We could have used him. Now we gotta make due." Walking over I kneel down and remove a cell. Flipping it open, messages, empty, contacts, it's the same list as Jack's phone. " the contacts lists are the same keep this one." They had two separate targets, but their employers were the same. That wasn't normal. It was a change in operations. Whoever this would lead too wasn't an average player.

    "Get your ass over there and make my money whore." I turn and see a black male all gang banged out wearing a ball cap. " stay here." I make sure my skull shirts covered. I walk near the guy and he gets all alpha banger on me. " you like living?" He asks showing a 9 mm tucked into his waist. " most of the time." I say and head into the liquor store nearby. He watches me go and returns his attention to the whore. The store owner is an elderly man. I turn and watch the man " makes you wanna do something dosent it?" He asks " you drink?" He asks another question when I don't answer. " no I quit." He nods like he understands . The banger hits the whore. " I'll have a bottle of Grey Goose." After purchasing it I walk out and club the guy in the back of the head then I shower him with the drink. " you know the difference between vengeance and punishment?" I toss a lighter to the whore and walk towards Damien. In the background I can hear him scream as he's set on fire. " now we can go."
  20. Sarah goes home alone and hears a crash upstairs. "Hello?! Is someone here?!" Her heart pounds because she lives alone. No one should be here.
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