Untouchable Part One

Written By Poseidon Productions

The streets of New York City was a dangerous place to be at night. Gangs, drug dealers, rapist, muggers and many kinds of scum was lurking in the streets. In Spanish Harlem, trouble was rearing his ugly head. Several Puerto Rican gang bangers called Los Hijos de Venganza were arming themselves for a fight. Just a few days ago, a few of it members who were making the rounds collecting drug money from their sponsored dealers when they were jumped by their mortal enemy, the African American dominated 212 Boyz.

Their dealers and their member were killed, drugs taken and money stolen. With this transgression, the gangs were arming themselves for war. The group of fifteen bangers were huddled over a trunk full of weapons, loading up on ammo. The main weapons for the night were German made MPL 9mm sub-machine guns. Two men had 7.62mm AK-47 assault rifles. The groups main side arm was were 9mm CZ-75 pistols. When they finished up, the fifteen men piled into three cars and made their way to 212 Boyz territory.

For more than an hour the war party searched anybody flying the color gray, the 212 boys color. Though they found a few black guys wearing gray, they were unaffiliated with their rivals. Soon after giving these men beatings, they saw another man wearing gray and then throw up the 212 Boyz hand signal. The Puerto Rican in orange drove at him but the man ran into a parking lot. The Sons pursued him and when they pulled in to the lot, he was standing in the middle of it, smiling smugly.

Despite the fact the Sons found this man's actions was odd, the Latino gang bangers exited their vehicles and aimed their assorted weapons at him.

"What ya smiling about, fucking nigger?" The leader of the Latinos asked.

"I'm about to watch my home boys smoke your wet back asses away," The African-American man said smugly.

Before the Latinos could react, a group of five of his buddies came out of hiding from different directions. They were armed with M4A1 Carbines with one hundred round C-Mag drum magazines on them. The Latino leader was surprised, wondering were the 212 Boyz get this kind of fire power.

The 212 bangers fired on their rivals, the 5.56mm rounds tore through the Latinos like butter. Blood was flowing all over the place. A few head exploded and brains hit the ground. After all the bodies hit the floor, the 212 Boyz stopped firing on them. The victorious crew celebrated for a moment, their plan was working. The 212 Boyz managed to get their hands on some high end military weapons from a new contact, and then they ambushed the Sons collectors and dealers just to piss them off.

Knowing they would want revenge, the Boyz had all their members stay out of site until their look out could get their attention. After that was history, now the Boyz were dead set on taking Spanish Harlem for themselves. As they were about to leave, a thunderous roar came from a side street. The five armed Boyz were cut to pieces by a large amount of fire. The unarmed look out at lagged behind and managed to survive. He stood in horror as saw his buddies chopped to pieces.

The banger then heard footsteps and he looked into the direction, and his eyes went wide with fear. Approaching him was a muscular Caucasian man with black hair and a five o'clock shadow. His blue eyes were cold and staring right at him. The man was wearing black combat pant, boots, kneepads, fingerless gloves and elbow pads, he also had a black Kevlar vest on with a huge white skull on it. The gang member knew who the man who slaughtered his friend, the vigilante known as the Punisher. And this man was coming right for the banger armed with a M60E4 light machine gun in his hands.

The man turn and ran but didn't get far when a 7.62×51mm round went straight through his thigh. The man let out an agonizing scream and hit the ground. As the Punisher walked up on him, the gangster was clutching his bleeding wound. The vigilante simply keeled down and looked at the man with cold eyes.

"Nice guns your friends had, where did you guys get them," Punisher said coldly.

"Fuck you, I aint saying...shit to your...psycho ass," the defiant gangster said through the pain.

"If you don't tell me, then I'll just look for more of your homeboys and I'll get my answer," Punisher replied.

"Man...no one but Buster know who got that fucking hardware," the look out said.

"Then that's who I'll talk to then," Punisher finished.

Punisher simply stood back up, backed up, aimed and put an extended burst into the thug. After finishing up, the Punisher walked away into the darkness of New York City as sirens filled the air.

30 minutes later

Shootout Crime Scene

A unmarked sedan pulled up to the scene and parked. The driver side door opened and a woman stepped out of it. She was a stunning Caucasian woman, with long black hair in a ponytail and fiery green eyes. She was wearing a green dress shirt, black dress pants and shoes. On her hip was a holster with a 9mm S&W Model 5906 pistol. She approached the police tape, she reached into her pocket and removed her police badge and showed it to a uniformed police officer.

"Detective Karen Chevalier, 18th Precinct," She said.

The uniformed cop lifted the tape and Karen walked to the scene, she looked upon the carnage of the place, dead Puerto Rican and African-American gang members were butchered. Standing in the middle of this was a very muscular light skinned African-American man wearing a black t-shirt, blue jeans and black work boots. His head was shaved and had hard brown eyes. He had a Glock 19 in a shoulder holster and Karen keen eyes noticed the bulge by his ankle, which meant a back up. She approached the man.

"You in charge of the scene?" Karen said.

"Yeah, Detective Scott Jackson, NYPD Organized Crime Control Bureau, Gang Division," The big man said.

"Karen Chevalier, Punisher Task Force," Karen said.

"Yeah, I remember you," Scott said, "The only person to volunteer for the job."

"So what do we have," Karen said, wanting to get to business.

"We think the Sons of Revenge want some payback for the 212 Boyz killing some of their boys and stealing drugs," Scott said. "But the Boyz seemed to upgrade their weapons."

The two detectives walked over to a group of CSU techs, who were bagging the assault rifles.

"Where the hell did these assholes get this kind of firepower?" Karen asked.

"No idea, but they only used it on on the Sons, then they got chewed by a 7.62mm machine gun," Scott said.

"That's sounds like the Punisher to me," Karen said.

There was a short period of pause between the two detective

"So how do you want to play this?" Scott asked.

"Knowing Castle, he'll be all over this gang shit," Karen said, "I'll meet you at One Police Plaza tomorrow, and we'll figure something."

"See you there then," Scott said.

After that, the two detectives went their separate ways.

Punisher's Hideout, Brooklyn.

The Punisher's non descript, highly customized "Battle Van" pulled up to his abandoned warehouse lair. He opened up the loading bay doors and drove in, turning off the van, and exiting the vehicle. The vigilante went to the back of the van and removed all the gear he had brought with him. After that was done, he moved through the darkened warehouse to a service elevator. Stepping inside, he hit the up buttoned and the elevator took the man to second floor.

Once the elevator stopped, Punisher walked into the second floor, which acted as his armory, living area, kitchen and bathroom. He headed towards his armory and laid his weapons on his work desk. The M60E4 was first, then a pair of Para-Ordnance P14 .45 ACP pistols, a M92F 9mm pistol and several knives. He would clean them, but first he needed to get some food in his stomach. As started towards the kitchen, he removed his bullet proof vest and put on a chair for now.

Punisher walked up to his refrigerator and opened it up. He grabbed a ham sandwich with lettuce, tomato and a bottle of water. He turned around and headed for his bed area and sat down, unwrapping his sandwich and began to eat it in silence. For the first couple of moments his mind was blank as he ate, but then he turned to see a poster board with pictures on them. Most was of a blonde woman with a blonde girl and a black haired boy. In one life, the Punisher was Frank Castle, a former Force Recon Marine who went to war for his country. When he come back from the war, he tried to live his life, but one day it was taken away from him. His family was caught in a gang shootout and they were killed. He survived but the justice system failed badly and the killers went free. So he took matters in his own hands and killed those responsible, and he has continued ever since.

Frank looked away from the board and pushed his memories deep inside himself. He finished his sandwich and water and then grabbed a phone, dialed a number and put the phone to his ear.

"Yeah," A male voice come from the other side of the line.

"We need to talk, I'll be at your place tomorrow at noon," Frank said deadpan.

"Alright, see you then," The man said and the line cut.

Frank put the phone and decided to go clean his weapons and get some rest.

Continental Security Corporation HQ

Atlantic City, New Jersey

On the top floor of the CSC Building, a man was looking out the window, taking in the view of city. He was wearing an expense black suit with a blue tie and black dress shoes. He had deep brown eyes and short brown hair. For Michael Bernhart, he was living his dream. Before he owned and operated CSC, he was a Captain in the Green Berets and a veteran of the first Gulf War. Well before that, he was the only son of a wealthy military family. After an honorable discharge and his parents death, he invested in the private military company. Two years ago, he bought CSC from the original owner. Under his leadership, CSC became a big player in the Defense industry.

One of his most successful ventures was buying aging weapons from state militaries and sell them to such police SWAT teams or upgrade them and have his PMC soldiers. He was getting so much business, he decided to sell them to less than reputable people like gangs, organized crime and paramilitary groups. But he wasn't worried, he was untouchable. If anybody tried to spill his secret, they would get a surprise. A knock at the door grabbed his attention and in came his assistant, a good looking Mexican woman with black hair and brown eyes. She was wearing a business suit with skrit.

"What is it Ana," Michael said.

"The police found the 212 Boyz with the weapons we sold to them," Ana said, "They wasted a bunch of Los Hijos de Venganza's."

"So, the police won't connect it to us," Michael said arrogantly.

"However, they were killed themselves," Ana said, "My police contact said the Punisher was involved."

That bit of information did make Michael think abit.

"OK, keep an eye on this Ana," Michael ordered, "But right now, this is the police's problem."