#wardogsong

"Smarts, don't it? That, uh, that li'l baton of his. Yeeaah, I r'member that. On top of Metro General. On the Blacksmith's boat." Flying nunchuck striking nerves, deadening grip, forcing guns to drop instead of doing their job. Welcome to his side of hell, Karen. The frustration of not being allowed to do the right thing. The indignity of being treated like a child by an unelected peer. Frank doesn't remember electing him Pope. He bets neither does Karen. "I would'a erased the footage for ya. Taken the body off y'r hands so he'd'a been one more missin' in the whole tide of 'em. Just one more who went into the dark and never came back up for air."

but you made your choice, goes unsaid. click. line goes dead.

@wardogsong

Her rage was all consuming.

Anger had been in every inch of her life ever since Bullseye took Foggy Nelson from this world, but this- what she was feeling right in this moment- she was just seconds away from exploding. If it meant Fisk and his goons and that- that thing- died in it's wake, Karen would burn this whole city to the ground.

But she wouldn't even be able to pull out a match.

Not with Daredevil behind her.

The blonde sniffs, tears of fury rolling down her cheeks as she makes her way down the corridor, the ringing of her burner phone being the only thing to stop her in her tracks.

".....Hello?"

For a brief second her wrath is gone. For a brief second nothing matters.

"Frank?"

Immediately Karen spins, eyes looking everywhere for cameras. For him.

She hardly even hears what he's saying, other than somehow someway he'd seen what had occurred back in his bunker, instead now she's only focused on answers. "Frank- wh-where are you?" Matt can hear her. She knows it. She knows he feels her relief hearing his and the ONLY person that clearly would understand her right now. "I need your help. I need- are you okay? Frank where are-"

A closer look - @wardogsong - Always accepting

{ Text To Babygirl } I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I wasn't there to save you. I promised I'd always be there and I failed you. { Text To Castle } You're a worthless, lying piece of shit and one day you'll wake up and realize your entire world's a dream you turned into a nightmare. { Text to Starling } Starling.. You really need to come work for me. I got the connections, I got the money. And you know you miss me. { Text to Little Man } Fuck out of here. Do I look like I work for McDonald's?

Oh, he’s tried. He’s done having bitter laughs about it.

He was hoping for a fist through the face. Joke’s on him for putting his faith in the Punisher, of all people, to do the one thing he’s good for. Wired, peppermint-crisp, Matt’s tongue rolls up his upper lip, bulging and purpling the veins down the underside.

❝Just sparing you the grief. You’re a big boy.❞

The tasteful skull as his logo demonstrates it best. Yeah. Here; Matt’s got some lawyerly news about Santa in the spirit of Loving his neighbor:

"Well, uh-" She pauses to hunch over, one hand on her knee while the other presses a nostril closed. A SHARP huff and Haven blows a bloody chunk of snot on the pavement already painted red. "You didn't ask very nicely."

She can't help it - well, no, she can. She could've listened and sat this out. There's a bag of pizza rolls sitting in the BACK of her freezer and tonight would have been a good opportunity to throw them in the oven and pop a movie in... But there would be no catharsis in that. Especially not when she knows she could be doing something more.

"Or...was dis perpetrated on you by da arrestin' officers." Her soft voice lower stills and to compensate, she leans a little closer so he doesn't have to strain to hear her. She can't dredge up any resentment for having to say those words aloud; if anything, her face gives for a brief flash a disgusted disdain of the police. Of course her experiences with them tend to be dramatically different that say... her brother's...might have been. Especially when she isn't in the papers, isn't smiling so very plastically beside the Admiral in his campaigns. There's spin around this man though from what she can see, he's hardly the terror that they make him out to be. And Beth can feel the weariness radiating off of him. Of course that could be the illusion. If she were more of a threat, would Frank Castle be so accommodating? She continues to focus on his mouth. The slow mud of his voice as it burbles up through the boulders in his chest. Occasionally glances upward to note his eyes flickering. Sees the occasional moment where he slips away from the hospital room and manages to find his way back to the night in question. She is surprised he can think ~dwell?~ in any fashion. By rights, blood and brain should be leaking out of his orifices.

His dog? There are a lot of horrific things people do to one another on a daily basis. Hundreds of acts of violence and greed by the minute, often swept away by the hand of distance. But somehow, when it involves an innocent animal, it seems so much worse. Even if the dog isn't considered a service animal maybe that's what it was acting as. What had they done to it? Had that triggered something in Frank? All questions that Matt and Foggy would come up with themselves though that will frame a defense of mental incompetence or defect. One that lays a damning diagnosis at the man's feet. Her hand tightens on his when he mentions the gangsters fighting the poor dog, the exact thing she was afraid of, and she can feel her internal moral compass shifting a little more toward his way of thinking. Those are the kind of people she'd feed to her Tree. "No, I don't...but I promise you, Frank, if dey managed it? Protocol dictates she be placed with Animal Care Centre where dey try an' find her owner, check for a chip, an' so on. I can find out, an' if she's still in holding? I'll take her. Keep her until..." She's careful not to say until he can come get her because he's likely going to be convicted. Going away for life, and while the death penalty has been abolished in New York? Someone like Frank will find it lurking in every corner of general population or at his own hand from years of isolation. It always finds a way and he has no friends amongst the prisoners or the guards. And once more the moment turns on them though she suspects she's only a convenient target for that fury and frustration. She's sadly used to it and even if he were in better health she wouldn't have flinched for the venting of his spleen. He doesn't strike her as the type to lay hands on a woman who meant him no harm. "Turned in? Who? One of da Kitchen Irish? Someone who managed to escape ya wrat'?" She stops, not meaning to interrupt him. But this was a new detail not shared with her. She'd simply assumed he'd been busted during the commission of his crimes. If there were witnesses to speak on his behalf, there'd need to be more depositions. Maybe there'd be someone willing to stand up for him, for his character if nothing else. A small thing but at least it's a step forward. Beth can only nod. Here they have one thing in common. The same level of retribution against a faceless enemy, an unnamed destroyer of worlds. And maybe this is why Foggy wanted Beth to meet Frank. To see what could be if she had the ability to come face to face with her brother's murderer. To have empathy for a man who had lost his all and could use the smallest token of human compassion. "I...I am truly sorry, Frank." He must have heard those words a million times. But in that series of half blinks to bat away the wet that have gathered at the corners of her eyes ~now is not the time and place to cry so she buries that hurt a little deeper, farther away than he can reach~ a blind man could see she's connected with him. That she means every syllable, and is starting to shoulder his burden. "Not dat I need f' vet Ms Page t' you but when she say she wants t' help? She means it. An' a dirty DA is...unfortunately synonymous wi' city governance. If you can get me a name, I can look into. Pull up da case an' information dat mebbe Nelson and Murdock no can." He doesn't need to know that her hanai-sister and hanai-father are legal royalty in the city and Jay has ...other...ways of looking into things even long buried.

( i c u, @wardogsong )

"If we're being honest here... I'd follow Billy Russo anywhere."

"Can you two stop talking about killing off the world? Please?"

incoming message from @wardogsong; "She's a ten but she keeps adding bodies to the safety cage."