Frank Castle aka The Punisher, who's tracked down his next kill, finds the guy in a club, waits for the man to leave, and follows him into an alley. This guy has been handling some illegal product, it would be an easy kill, the guy didn't know Frank was after him. Frank lined up the shot. Quick. Easy. He pulls the trigger, waits for the body to fall, but it doesn't. Instead he hears the bullet clink on the concrete. The bullet had just fallen, he tried again, same thing. The man got away.
Frank inspected his gun, turning it around in his grip. It was completely normal.
A headache slammed into him, almost making his knees buckle, he had never felt something like this, he felt like his very skull was being torn to shreds, he leaned against the wall, he felt a steady stream of blood come from his ears. And then it just stopped.
He had a theory on what just happened.
Years ago, he had heard whispers of a woman in the countryside that was a magician. One who helped heros. He was still new to all the magic shit,and so he went to you. Made an exchange. He was granted a healing factor in exchange for control over his soul. Frank had no idea what that had meant but you did not elaborate, just smiled. You seemed trustworthy so he agreed.
He had an odd relationship with you, every once in a while he would get an invitation to come have tea with you, no matter where he was, he would always receive them. You treated him like an old friend, you called him Francis, he didn't know how you knew his real name, but you never did anything remotely hostile. Just... condescending, you treated him as some kind of entertainment. Every once and a while you would ask him a favor. Mostly intel. He just knew this was you.
He stormed to your manor. And old Victorian one, perfectly conserved, 24 acres. He knocked on the doors, being answered by a butler. He gave his name and the door slammed in his face. A few moments later, the door opened again. You stood there smiling wide, white gloves, a pink dress, ribbons in your hair.
"Francis! Oh how good to see you! Come, walk with me."
You held your arm for him to take, it wasn't a question. He just stared, angrily.
You lowered your arm. "Or not, come in and join me for tea then, I can tell you have something to discuss."
You walked to a table, accompanied by two chairs, a butler pulled yours out for you, you thanked him and he scurried off, you were still smiling. Frank took a seat, just as a woman came over and left a teapot with two cups on the table.
You smiled and nodded at the woman, turning to Frank, you picked up the teapot, pouring yourself and him a cup.
Frank stared for a second before opening his mouth. "So look, yesterday, I-"
"One sugar, or two, Francis?"
"None thanks, but like I was saying-"
"Oh are you sure? It's a bitter tea."
His voice began to rise with frustration "No. I don't want no damn sugar. Now about yesterday-"
"So fickle Francis, how have-"
"Can you stop fuckin interrupting me?! We have serious shit to discuss."
Your eyebrows raised before quickly regaining composure. "Well then go ahead, Francis. Tell me what you think." You slid him tea and took a sip of your own.
"Last night, I was after a target. I shot him and the bullet collapsed, then I got this horrible headache. Did you have something to do with that?"
"Well perhaps, what was the man's name?" Frank hated that you were still talking to him like a child, he was stronger than you, bigger, he could overpower you if he really wanted to, but you just sat there sipping your damn tea.
"His name was Jasper Backwell."
"Oh Jasper! Yes, that would be my doing then."
"Well he has made a similar deal to me, he's protected under my magic, and that little headache would be a punishment for breaking our agreement, Francis."
"What?! I gave you no fuckin' right to make me unable to do shit. You don't get to just- mess with my brain!"
He swept the tea set the floor, porcelain shattering on marble tile.
Frank immediately felt the air thicken. He saw your mask crack. A servant rushed over with a broom but you held your hand out, shooing them away.
You flicked your hand, the shards and the tea began to float, making a perfect pile on the table, with that you stood to face Frank.
"Francis. I think you've forgotten who's in control here. If I recall correctly, I'm the one that has ownership of your soul. If it weren't for me, you would have died 100 times over by now."
Frank felt this weird pressure in his chest, like his heart was trying to escape. He kept up his tough look though.
"You can't just- own souls, you're bullshitting."
You smiled, your hand curling into a fist in front of him. His chest felt like it would explode. It was unbearable.
"It was mine before we even met, Francis. I am in control."
"Youre just some batshit lady!"
Frank lunged, tried to. He got maybe a step, before he couldn't move at all, his muscles locked up. You smiled again and walked over, ruffling his hair.
A piece of perfectly sharp porcelain leveraged off the table, it dragged across his neck, drawing droplets in its wake.
He suddenly dropped to the floor, his vision spinning, he stood, seething.
"Now, Francis. Why don't you escort yourself out. It was a pleasure seeing you."
You put your regular smile back on, the porcelain landing back in the pile.
"I hope our next meeting has less...attitude, Francis."
As Frank walked with anyone's ego he had left. You waved from the front porch.
"Remember, dear, you're under my control until you settle your account."
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