@cmd-mariahill
Some could still remember the nostalgic old times when Frank Castle could be called cooperative with only a little bit of wishful thinking and weird sentiment for bad boys with hearts of gold. But those times were gone for good and no-one doubted that Frank’s love for solitude was his greatest advantage, one of not so many. Making friends with a reputation of revengeful, violence-loving lunatic could be a challenge. Good thing he hadn’t been trying for the last couple of years, neither around other revengeful, violence-loving lunatics, nor at any good guys with god complex club.
S.H.I.E.L.D. had always been the latter for Frank but he also had some rudimentary respect for institutions that were at least trying. It was covered with a fair amount of contempt but if he’d ever been wondering about it, Maria Hill gave him proof that this respect was indeed still breathing. If it wasn’t, Castle would find three hundred and five good reasons to say no and avoid a trip to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, and instead of waiting for Hill at one of the offices, he would be working on the current top section of his list.
“I was surprised that I didn’t have to go through a strip search on my way here,” Frank started when someone entered the room. “Good evening.” He turned to look at the person, expecting to see Maria Hill. And he was right.
