New York City

Lower East Side...

Rosco knew he was screwed more royally then a good looking princess. Sure he had a dozen hoods and two trucks worth of cocaine ready to be shipped out of the dockside warehouse he'd chosen as his base of operations, but the deadline he had been given to get it all shipped wasn't one he could meet on such short notice. He had thought about telling his bosses that it was like a tall order given to a Dwarf, but then again the last fella that had failed at a task he was given and tired that ended up not needing to worry about what food to buy anymore, when all you can eat has to come through a straw, you ain't got much of a choice do you?

"Damn it, come on guys! We only got till sun up before they'll have my balls on a platter"! He knew for a fact the local crimes bosses would do just that too. In a town like New York, you didn't get to a rung that high on the ladder by playing nice, one day he hoped he would be the one making those sort of choices, but for now, he was the low rung tasked with moving the stuff.

It was a start he supposed. Waving his arms above his bald head, Rosco sighed as he watched two gangers in jackets and knit caps load another crate filled with the stuff into the back a delivery truck. He really hoped this worked out. He placed a hand on his belly as he felt a sharp pain "Oh shit. Not that Chinese again!" and ran towards the bathroom. He supposed he wasn't gonna get ANY breaks tonight was he?

He just didn't know how right he was about that yet.

...

Scum, all of them. Pushing everything from dope to crack and worse onto the streets. Chocking the life out of the city with it all.

He would put a stop to that.

From his observation post, set up over looking the docks, the man in black took one last look through his binoculars at the warehouse bellow, the only one in the empty dock yard that still had lights on. He'd been following this lead for two days now, a new man in the empire of crime trying to start out with a bang, pushing cocaine into the heart of New York.

He had seen his share of druggies in Vietnam, mostly kids who wanted out of a bad war. They'd gotten friends killed by slacking, just trying to get by till their next fix instead of doing their jobs. He would make sure that never hit New York again. He would make sure all the drug pushers knew that their trade was a death sentence. To him, New York was home, and he would protect his home.

Standing up and adjusting a strap on his web gear, Frank Castle, The Punisher, formerly of the United States Marines in Vietnam, and a man on a war against crime, picked up the M4A1 carbine he'd leaned close by, and checked the action.

Like him, the gun was ready to kill.

...

What is this?

Why is everything blank? Wheres the pictures?

Oh...i must be in a novel...no, the grammer is to poor for that. Fanfiction? Have i already left that much of a mark? Wow...

Of course this will lead to some problems i suppose, but we'll address them as they appear

It was an easy score Gwen told herself. Drug dealers dealt drugs, therefore they had money, and therefore they were the two things she needed. Bad guys to kill, and money to pay off that nasty tab at Ronnies. (Jeez she could charge a lot for the most simple sewing repairs!) Of course thing never did go easy in the comics (or fanfics) did they? Of course in a average fight, could a few red shirt criminals really beat a main character?

She didn't think so.

Hefting the short Russian rifle and revving up the engine of the "borrowed" dirt bike, she felt her lips form a smile as she hooted in delight and shot forwards with a roar of its engine towards the dockyard and towards more money. And, a faithful meeting...

Du du duuu, wonder who it is. Iron Fist? Luke Cage? Oh or maybe Jessica Jones? Heck it might be someone OUTSIDE the Marvel universe for all i know...

...

Taking a short breath, Frank leaned out from the shadow of a cargo container across from the warehouse and dropped the single sentry on duty with his suppressed 45. the criminal held a sawed off shotgun, leaning over his shoulder and was more occupied with lighting a cigarette between his free hands fingers then keeping watch. He'd seen it before in Nam, how many doped up kids had been so busy getting high they didn't notice the VC joining them in their holes? They would find them in the morning, throats slit ear to ear.

In Vietnam, the SEALs had nicknamed their supppresed 45s "Hush Puppies" for their use in silencing VC watchdogs in villages, but they worked just as well on a man. He liked to think he wasn't that cruel, shooting a man down rather then letting cold steel do the work for him, but he knew the truth.

More effective this way. Dropping him at a distance means less chance of any alarm being raised.

Another thing he'd learned, not in the war in the jungle, but here on the streets, was that criminals weren't soldiers. The average VC or NVA soldier was a trained killer fighting for a cause he stood behind and ready to die for it, but most criminals didn't take themselves that serious or the believe in the stuff they dealt that much, hence they got sloppy and like the example Frank had just made, ended up dead.

Adjusting his helmet, a piece of kevlar laced riot gear with a skull painted in see through ink across the visor, he approached the door the now dead man had been guarding. Holstering the 45. he raised his shoulders and unstrapped the M4 from his back, bringing it up, he put himself flat against the wall next to the door, and removed a single concussion grenade from his web gear.

Pulling the pin free with a slight hiss, he kicked the door wide open, and closing his eyes at the bright light coming from inside, gave it his best Randy Johnson impression, tossing it inside and moving back behind the wall. He heard a scream from inside as the explosive went off and blinded the room, then with rifle raised and pointed forwards, he moved inside.

Go in fast, well they're disoriented. Shock and Awe.

Firing a three round burst into the first man with a weapon he saw, the Punisher dropped a thug in a white cap, the man's pistol, a Glock from the look of its black finish, fell with blood seeping through his sweatshirt. Brass flew past his head as brought himself down behind a nearby pillar, one of many that lined the walls of the building that hadn't seen legitimate goods pass through it since Carter was in the White House.

"Shit...kill that asshole"! he heard an angry voice scream, sticking his weapon around the edge of the pillar, he let it loose, firing in the general direction of it. 5.56 rounds drilled across the warehouse floor and pock marked walls, crates and men, another cry told Castle his bullets had found its mark. The loud click also told him his mag was empty, pulling his weapon back to him, he quickly released it, and shifted it over, before quickly re-inserting another duck tapped to it, an old trick an Aussie SAS operator he'd served with had taught him.

Locked and loaded once more, he leaned his head out of cover and surveyed the scene, two men lay dead, another few hunkered down behind a deliver truck, its side plastered with a slogan that proclaimed it faster then all others. Movement caught his eye, and shifting his attention to another gaggle of gang members, these didn't have the same stomach or bad luck as the others, they were trying to flee, he brought the M4 to his shoulder again, and fired feeling its kick,but the angle was poor, and the rounds impacted the wall near them with a sharp pang and sparks, the three kicked out a door next to the larger one meant to let the trucks in and out. He gazed back at the other enemies in cover just in time to duck back to safety as they began to fire at him. From outside, covered up by the staccato of the gun battle, the sound of a motor bike's engine grew louder.

...

Oh? I'm back!

Gwen leaned back on the bike's seat, the top of her mask billowing in the breeze. As the gate to the dockyard fast approached, she was surprised to find it wide open, good luck she supposed. Speeding up she spotted three men with guns in hand running out of the same warehouse she was planning on hitting. Now to a seasoned warrior, the less enemies you have to fight, the more likely your success is, but to Gwen on such an easy mission, she didn't want the easy route, or in the case, the one with the least amount of shooting and stabbing.

Leaning over and gripping her carbine, she fired a stream of 7.62 rounds older then she was into the three goons, one fell at once, taking almost the entire load into him hehe load and shielding his fellow soon to be dead guys. Jumping from the bike, she tossed aside the now useless weapon (Who reloads anymore?) and pulled a pair of Mac-10s from her side, as both remaining men raised their own guns, a pair of dark pistols, she fired well rolling to the right, the clatter of the twin automatics sent both men falling to their backs, dead as disco.

With a smirk, she skipped past both bodies without a second thought, who cares about dead red shirts who make poor life choices anyway? From the sound coming from inside, it seemed the bad guys were shooting themselves for her...

...

Frank mentally kicked himself.

Getting sloppy, i didn't use the window i created with the flash bang quick enough.

"Your dead Castle"! Frank heard one of the thugs scream as a burst of fire from what sounded like an Uzi cracked on the pillar he was using as cover behind. Between it, half a dozen pistol shots came his way. They'd spread out, had him pinned in a 90 degree arc of fire. If he'd had a grenade, he could have cleared them out easily, but he had chosen to forgo explosives, in a small space like this, the shrapnel could kill him just as easily as it could the enemy.

If he could wait for the untrained shooters to make a mistake, perhaps reload at the wrong time and leave an opening for him, he might be able to flank- He heard the soft thud followed by the unmistakable rolling hiss that an M67 Fragmentation grenade makes upon making contact with a flat surface. It was one he'd first been introduced to during the intense house to house fighting in the streets of the South Vietnamese city of Hue, in January 1968 as a sergeant, and where he had first learned how deadly they could be in close quarters.

Frank for a moment was back in that cramped city with the pop pop of M-16s in the air mixing with VC and NVA Kalashnikov fire, and threw himself the the concrete as he heard someone yell to scatter as an explosion sent steel fragments flying in every direction. Two gutted cries told him some criminals hadn't been as lucky as he was, but even with his armor, he knew some bits and pieces were sticking out of his plate carrier

Redirecting his focus, he moved to another piece of cover, a forklift, he didn't think it would stop bullets, but it would give him a new angle to fire from, but who had tossed in that grenade? His intel from Soap (His contact inside the NYPD) had said nobody was touching this place with a ten foot pole, so who the hell was charging in like it was a Stallone flick? He could name a few idiots who fit the MO but what he saw wasn't what any of them.

A girl in a pink and white costume who shouted "Knock Knock" in what he could only call a Schwarzenegger accent wasn't something he could say he had seen before. She fired two Mac-10s titled ninety degress, both spitting 9mm bullets like bees out of a disturbed hive, riddling the first man she saw with them. The others now finding two threats to face, pulled back, the Uzi fired again as Pinkie rolled away behind delivery truck they had used for the very same task moments before.

From his new angle, Frank clipped another gang banger, this one dressed in a dark short with a bandanna spun around as his shoulder bone was shattered like glass. He would be done for now. Doing the math, he realized he had already eliminated three criminals, and Pinkie had dropped two more (And he had to assume the three who ran) meaning only about four hoods remained out of the ones he had seen so far.

From the sound of discharges, two Glocks and a single Uzi were firing, meaning he was opposed by three gunman and...Pinkie. but whoever she was, she was a threat to his mission, an unintended variable in his plan.

...

Rolling out from behind the front of the truck, Gwen pressed down on the trigger of the gun in her left hand, the burp and brass vibrating in her hand and causing the red shirts to duck or fire blind over the crates they now hid behind, turning her head, she heard a different kind of gun fire, and it was firing AT the bad guys! She supposed you shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, and dropped her now empty left gun, firing with her right, she moved in a arc around the bad guys cover, before one stood up gun high to fire, she tossed the weapon at him, striking him in the face, and pulled the twin Katanas off her back, and leaped at them, in a flurry of blades and fists, the Uzi had its muzzle cut clean off, and all three men were sushi in seconds. Japan jokes are the best

Sheathing one onto her back, and twirling the other in one hand, she turned around to thank whoever had helped her thin out the baddies during the fight "Thank you citizen for doing your duty-" ...and was met with the muzzle of a gun, and the Punisher, dressed in a brown trench coat covering a set of full black body armor with his skull motif painted across the chest, he was staring her down through a spooky skull helmet.

"Uh...so i know this looks bad...since i'm sorta a...you know, bad guy but...- he spoke up, his voice like a gravel road, coarse with years of age behind it "Who the HELL are you." Not a question, an order she thought, slowly backing up, she held her hands out in front of her "Listen...mr Castle...i err...don't want any trouble..." she tired to look as innocent as she could...as well as anyone could with swords on their back.

He didn't buy it.

"Both swords and the any guns you have, on the ground now, or i paint the walls with your brain matter" he moved his muzzle up slightly for a moment, to make his point, Gwen had read her share of comics on the guy, but he was never...this intense...bad ass sure. But this was...scary...er then normal. She slowly took both swords off her back, and placed them down, after a moment, he looked her over again, not in a creepy old guy at the bus stop way, but with a keen eye "No guns"?

"i...sorta threw them" she nodded at the Mac-10 lying on the ground nearby, now empty.

"Not the best plan. Even with the swords. Left yourself at a disadvantages" he said in a low voice. "So i'll ask again, who are you, and what the hell do you think your doing"?

"Err...i'm Gwen-Pool...i fight...crime"? she wasn't completely lying she supposed, just leaving out the part where she took money for said crime fighting. Not a white lie, a...pink one she supposed. She heard him huff, after a moment she realized it was a laugh "Kid, your not very good at lying."

Gwen gulped, just his sentences were scary, even without art the tine allowed was chilling. In her fear, it took her a moment to remember her golden rule.

She was a main character, so was the Punisher, in this story, in theory he couldn't kill her. But then again, he had started the "violent hero thing" in the 80s, maybe he would start another fad by putting a bullet in her own head. She would just have to take that chance. Using some of the martial arts she did know, she spun her wrist around at his rifle, knocking it from his gloved grasp.

The weapon flew several feet away with a clatter, she used the distraction to slide to the left, and pick up her dropped swords, Castle pulled a hand gun from his hip as she ran for cover, she heard no shots as bullets wizzed past her, sprinting to safety and sliding behind several overturned crates. She heard him click empty, and as he advanced, his footfalls making loud thuds across the pavement and reloaded, she charged, both swords in hand.

He rammed the clip in home, and fired, this time not at Gwen, but her blades, with a clash of metal, both both flew from her hands Now unarmed she looked him in the eye and struck a combat pose. She laughed and quipped in a spur of the moment "yeah well i always pack my kick butt." She thought it sounded tough.

He only laughed "I hope that kick butt is better then Krav maga and Judo. He struck his own stance and in a flash throwing himself forwards, she rolled away but he clipped her boot and wheeled her around, her mouth agasp and tossed her into the ground. She kicked, one of her few advantages was the speed that the Punisher couldn't match in his armor. His helmet bobbed under the flurry of kicks and he let go, giving her a moment to come up with some kind of...idea!

She smiled. Rolling back, she stood up and thumbed her nose at him.

...

Frank had seen his share of crazy things, both in the jungle and on the street, but this girl was something else. He'd taken Judo when he was stationed in Korea and the Krav maga was something a friend in the IDF had taught him, and yet she kept an almost decent pace, he would have been impressed in any other circumstances by her spirit.

But here all his energy was being put towards defeating her. She was the enemy, and if even a bit good, she was still a flawed fighter. For a man who had taken on heroes like Daredevil and Wolverine and lived to tell the tale, she was nothing. Throwing all his weight into slug, he slammed his fist into her stomach, she made a sound like a fish on dry land and was knocked back, he thought he heard her mutter under breath about this being tougher then it should be.

Pulling a compact blade from his side, he pointed it at her. Her eyes wide, she almost laughed at its small size, even well coughing from his punch. He smiled at her mistake and hit the notch on the side of it. The blade shot forwards, a soviet made ballistic knife, with a spring loaded blade...

...

Gwen laughed at the small blade, even when it made her ribs hurt "You think that little thing'll stop me?" She heard a soft click but turned her head as a nearby door opened. Something wizzed by her face and embedded itself in the wall behind her. She didn't have time to think about how close that had been as a bald white man dressed in a green jacket emerged, cursing loudly about "that damn fast food" and zipping up his pants before he realized his friends were dead strewn about the room, and two people in flashy costumes were the only ones left standing.

"What the F..." he said fumbling at his belt for his gun.

Gwen gave his arm a good kick, knocking it from his grasp. Meanwhile the Punisher has picked up his fallen rifle, and now held it on the crook. He looked first at Gwen and then the Punisher and his gun. "...Aw shit" he threw up his hands and closed his eyes, Gwen leaped onto him, pounding him with her balled up fists "Tell us evil doe all you know, or face the wraith of Gwenpool and the Punisher-WHOA" she felt a strong arm pick her up, and taking her off him. Castle slung his weapon on his back, and with one arm, held the man up by his neck, making his face muscles contort.

"Alright, this is how its going to work. I ask a question. You answer it. You don't, and i'll make sure you die slow. Got it?" The thug nodded with fear filled vigor.

"Whats your name?"

"Rosco..."

"Where was this all going Rosco?"

The man was silent, she watched the Punisher's gloves grip tighter into the man's neck. His eyes seemed to bulge from their sockets and his feet kicked helplessly before he gasped out "I don't know...i was just suppose to meet a middle man...they don't tell me jack..." his grip slakend for only a moment as the Punisher pushed him for more "Where were you delivering this stuff to?"

"I...don't know..." he coughed. Frank's face twisted into an angry snarl "Tell me or so help my i'll make sure you turn blue." Gwen herself was a bit frightened at his methods, sure she chopped people to bits or shot them, but this guy wasn't a no name mook and he wasn't falling into a heap a few yards away, he was dying right in front of her. It was chilling.

"I'm loosing my patients Rosco." Frank said,using his free hand, he rammed it into the man's stomach, causing him to cough up a storm. For a moment it seemed as though a man was about to die right before her eyes. But Gwen heard his choke out "...Barney Station..." he hacked up again "Barney station, they got a shipping center set up there...we use the old subway tunnels for the trucks and to store our cash..." he sighed his eyes saying it all, he was at his end, and telling the truth. Gwen's ears perked at the mention of money, and what she assumed to be a lot of it. Frank didn't seem to notice.

"How many men? Weapons"?

Rosco's face began to turn white again "bout three dozen or so, the works, shotguns, rifles machine guns...i'm telling ya thats all i know"!

"Good. He dropped the man to the floor, still coughing for breath. Frank looked down at him, before turning around on his heels and leaving without a word, only stopping at the door to break his silence "If i find out you tipped them off. I'll make you wished i'd chocked the life out of you." Rosco made a sound akin to a scared puppy as the Punisher's boots thudded again and he exited the bullet hole ridden building.

After a moment, Gwen regain her senses, and followed, skipping after him. "So where to next partner"? The grizzled man turned his head "Your lucky enough i left you alive. I suggest you leave before i change my mind." He began walking away faster, but she kept pace jogging alongside him. "Aww come on, you need me! Did you see how well we were in there? We were like fire and ice, i'm the fire because i'm fast and agile, and your the ice because your cold and cunning! Were a team"!

"We are NOT a team, i-"

"Don't gimmie that "I work alone" crap, did you see me in there? I took out more mooks then you did"! She waved an arm over her hood for effect. The Punisher turned to face her. "I don't "work alone". I only operate with people i can count on to pull through with me in combat. Your wild, but so where plenty of VC and they payed for it. Having swords and a sugar rush doesn't make you untouchable."

Gwen touched the tips of her fingers together and eyed her boots. "Sure, but you couldn't beat me, could you"?

Frank knew the answer to that. He could have killed her. If he'd had enough time to learn her moves, bring the right weapons, and found her a real threat. But she did have a point, she was unexpected, and if he was going to storm Barney station, he'd need someone unexpected to do it. He sighed loudly "I suppose a joint operation between us isn't out of the question. I don't have enough fire power with me to take on thirty armed men alone."

Gwen pumped her fists in the air "Yes"! and jumped in victory. Here she was teaming up with the Punisher, sure he wasn't Iron Man or the Fantastic Four (God that reboot had sucked) but it was a start. As he inspected his rifle as they walked Gwen asked "So how we getting there partner"? Castle sighed, already regretting his choice of ally...

Sweet! Team up time! Watch out bad dudes, the Pink and Black are out to get you!