Super-Bad Advice
Roleplaying Log: Super-Bad Advice
Participants
IC Details
Synopsis:

Maybe Frank isn't the right one for Supergirl to ask for advice.

Other Characters Referenced: Superman, Batman, Carol Danvers, Cat Grant
IC Date: June 11, 2019
IC Location: Hell's Kitchen, NYC
OOC Notes & Details
Posted On: 13 Jun 2019 06:33
Rating & Warnings: R for language and some violence.
Scene Soundtrack: [* ]
NPC & GM Credits:
Associated Plots

Even this long after the explosions, there are parts of Hell's Kitchen that the police go into in force or not at all. There are also still a lot of construction sites, many with their projects stalled halfway through the process after Wilson Fisk went to jail. This gives assholes an ideal place to lay low, and Frank Castle an ideal place to hunt assholes. The one that he's found tonight is a strapping young man in his mid-twenties. The Punisher's first attack came swooping down from the partially-constructed third floor, hammering the man to the floor of the second story with both heels. Neither of them wanted the police, so they each went for knives first. Frank collected a little slice low on his hip, under his white-skulled vest, while the other guy got much worse. He's bleeding from half a dozen cuts, but he's also bloodied Frank's nose. It's not a fair trade. The scum finally decides to go for a pistol, and Frank slams a forearm into the man's elbow, gets his arm in a lock, and sends the pistol skittering away with a smack of his other hand into the guy's wrist.

* * *

"Holy moley." Supergirl mentions as she's hovering down into the alley way. Her eyes are a bit wide, and she's smiling a little bit, looking at the two fighters. "This is -really- intense." She doesn't intercede at this point, no, she's enamored by the fight. "Hey, big guy with the skull. Did you -know- he was going to go for the pistol? Like, had you spotted it earlier? Because, that was pretty quick moves. I mean, for a human."

Indeed, the bane of existence. A chipper, blue and red costumed, super heroine who also can't be too many days into adulthood. Though she comes to a standing position in the alley she still doesn't stop what's going on. "Wait, also, other guy, who is CLEARLY losing, are you the good guy? Bad guy? It's really hard to tell. It's like Batman times two."

* * *

Frank's situational awareness is excellent, but he had no idea that Supergirl was there. None at all. Flying people still aren't in his list of worries. They probably should be. Both he and his opponent freeze for a moment, but Frank recovers quicker, slamming his elbow back into the head of the other guy and dropping him crumpling to the ground. His eyes flicker to the fallen pistol, then to the flying woman, and he growls out, in a voice like 40 miles of bad road, "There's always a point where they decide to go for the gun." His prey groans on the ground, starting to shift, to mumble something that might be 'help,' and Frank turns back to him, "You even old enough to be out this late, ma'am?" He cocks back a foot, preparing to kick the fallen guy in the face to shut up the mumbles.

* * *

"Usually they go for the gun really quickly with me. I'm not sure why. I mean, I would have thought that my cousin's reputation would have warranted an understanding that bullets, don't really hurt us." And Supergirl shrugs a moment, and watches as the guy gets hit to the ground. Then she mimics the quick elbow move, "Hmm. I'll have to remember that one." And then she's walking forward just sort of stepping on the pistol and crushing it.

"So what's your name? Skully? Skullman? Superskull? White Skull? Angry skull?" She questions and then she smirks, canting her head to the side, "No, I know it's" She makes as deep of a voice as she can, and it makes the next two words sound foolish almost, "The Punisher." With a quick pause though, she asks, "Is there some kind of law about when you can be out based upon age?" The question is more serious than she's had before, "I hope so. Another reason for people to hate me."

* * *

The casual crushing of the pistol sets Fran's teeth on edge, and he shifts into a wider, warier stance. "Your cousin." He looks over the uniform, then frowns, "The Big Blue Boy Scout? That'd be a real good reason not to go for a knife or a gun, wouldn't it?" He starts to respond to the question about his name, and then he shakes his head, "My name's Frank. Some people call me The Punisher, but that's not some name I gave myself." The scum moves again, and he follows through with the kick to the face, sending his prey slumping on the dirty floor. Reaching down, he starts to drag the other man over toward a half-finished wall with rebar jutting out the top, "Some places got a curfew, but not most. But most people your age, or the age you look, don't hang out in Hell's Kitchen this late at night. But I figure if you're the Big Blue Boy Scout's cousin, that probably doesn't matter to you, does it?"

* * *

When the kick happens, Kara winces and then looks over at the guy. "Ooooh. That must, that really looks painful." She says and eyes the guy who is being dragged. "Well, Frank. I'm Kara. Not Supergirl. Same, sort of deal. Other people thought it was fitting. One, because they have know clue how to even read Kryptonian symbols, and Two, because well, people are not very clever when coming up with names I've noticed." A pause and she shrugs at the whole Boy Scout thing, "I'm not sure if he's scouting for boys. That doesn't sound very, legal. But, correct. I do what I want, when I want, and no one can really stop me. Except Kal, and maybe that Carol lady, but still… they'd have to catch me right? And they usually have bigger things to deal with like, buildings falling on people." When she looks over at the rebar and then the guy being dragged, she's more watching like a science experiment, "What are you going to do with him now? Tie him up, torture him and try and get him to answer questions?"

* * *

Frank pauses a moment at the response to the mention of the Boy Scouts, frowning in curiosity and consideration at the woman who was floating until just a moment ago. "Boy scouts are a group of goodie-two-shoes kids who learn how to follow all the rules, tie pretty knots and get fancy badges." Which actually sounds kind of like the Marines, to a certain point of view. "And it's better than calling him Underoos. Who the fuck wears their underwear on the outside?" A pair of zip-ties wrap around the unconscious man's wrists, and then he lifts them up over a piece of rebar then lets the guy drop down to the floor, his arms curled up at what must be an uncomfortable angle. "You're pretty sure of yourself, aren't you? No weaknesses, no nothin'?" He looks between her and the guy on the ground, "I don't carry rope." So no tying him up, but the zip-ties work pretty nicely for that. "And I'm gonna ask him a few questions, yeah. Torture…" he shrugs a little helplessly, grunting expressively. "They call it Enhanced Interrogation now. But I'm just gonna ask him questions." Because you don't admit to planning to torture someone to an Underoo.

* * *

There's a pause as Kara kind of watches Frank as he tries to explain Boy Scouts. "Oh, so, activity based learners? I'm still not following. Are you saying my cousin had two good shoes?" She reaches up and touches the side of her head, like a person with a headache. And she grimaces a bit at the question about underwear, "Look, I understand. I've…" She looks away, "Tried to bring it up with him. I'm not … exactly sure, but I think he just has bad fashion sense." And she nods her head a few times at the question about being pretty sure of herself. "I mean, I picked up a building just yesterday, fought a giant robot and one the day before that, demons, giants, monsters, big robots, that's kind of a repeating theme. Ummmmm, went to space, floated around the sun a few times, went to Pluto." A bit of a shrug, "Stopped a battle in what you would reference as the middle east, by detonating a big-ish bomb in the middle of the fight. Not, exactly middle, you know, where people weren't but tanks and things were. I was -in- the explosion."

Then when there's the whole not carrying rope conversation and then the torture. "Yeah? Can I watch? I've never seen someone tortured before. It's kind of on the do-not-do list I got from Kal. Though, I've threatened before, and half-beaten people to death before, that's not exactly -hard- for me. Plus, I can totally tell you when he's lying. Team up?"

* * *

"You're really not good with metaphors, are you?" Frank chuckles, however, at her comment about wardrobe, shaking his head in amusement. "Most powerful people are the most stubborn, ain't they?" He listens to the description, "So not vacuum, not tank shells, not bombs, not demons — demons were a pain in the ass, but at least no one gave me shit about killin' them." He crouches alongside the fallen man, looking up at Kara, "Pretty sure any of the Underoos — the supers in Metropolis — would be pissed at you for usin' enhanced interrogation. And the Big Bad Bat would probably hate the comparison to me. You can tell when he's lying?" He pauses, "Just a minute." Frank leans in, twisting the man's wrist in a way that grinds bones together and gives him a nice jolt of adrenaline, waking the scumbag up real quick. Looking back to Kara, he starts again, "You can tell when he's lying? How?"

* * *

"Look, I learned all of Earth's languages in a few months time. Culture is…" Kara starts, and scrunches up her nose a bit, "Well, it's really backwards. And inefficient, here. It is difficult to learn. And it doesn't help that Kal is so accustomed to it already that -I- look like an Alien. And he seems like he's right at home." There's at least a little frustration, mixed with some anger perhaps, toward her cousin. "Sure, it's like no one cares when people kill sentient robots either. I mean, I do that every week or so, but nooooooo, break someone's arm rescuing them from a burning building. And you get a scathing review from Miss Cat Grant." Tensing up her hand, into a fist, she shakes her head, "Urrhhhh." Letting out a little groaning sound, "I can't even -hit- something. I'll break stuff. And no, not bombs or demons or tank shells. Not really. Sometimes… things hurt, but don't damage me." A shrug at that, still balling up her hand. "And, yes, I can. I mean, it's super easy. I just listen to his heart beat, and watch for microexpressions. Mix that in with scents, and I pretty much have a full analysis spectrum on him." Talking about how much better she is than other things, and her abilities, seems to release the tension in her hand, and she's smiling again.

* * *

Frank studies the young woman in blue and red, "Why do you give a fuck what the papers say? You complete the mission, your team comes back, what else matters?" He gestures outward, to the city at large, "I had half the NYPD lookin' for me for a while. Maybe even with good reason too. But I got the job done." The captive squirms at Kara's anger and at her description of her abilities, but the Punisher grins a little crookedly, "How's that sound, Calkins? You want your heart beat listened to, your microexpressions read? You want her smellin' your scents?" The guy squirms harder, and then the Punisher gives another little twist of the man's wrist. "So why the hell were your buddies comin' after me in the Kitchen?" The thug looks confused and scared, "What? Who? Why would we — ?" He actually sounds genuinely unsure of what's going on. He's hurting though.

* * *

Folding her arms, Kara just kind of paces, back and forth, "I don't know. I mean, maybe there's the whole. I'm looking for … I dunno." She slumps her shoulders and looks over at the guy who's squirming. And she quirks her mouth to the side, and she waves a hand dismissively, "He doesn't know what you are talking about…" She focuses more and looks at the guy harder, "Yep. He's telling the truth, or he's just dumb. Could have amnesia. Though…" Another moment, "He doesn't have any recent brain bruising or scarring that would indicate long term memory loss. I mean, he looks beat up, and his brain's a bit messed up from it, but nothing permanent nor anything that should be … you know … making him forget."

And then she's pacing again, "How am I supposed to make this world a home -if- I can't even be popular with when I'm doing things like everyone says to? I never had this problem on Krypton." She shakes her head and sighs, "Initiative, creative, intelligent, those were the kinds of words people said about me. Here, Impulsive, loose cannon, a danger to those around me."

* * *

Frank weighs the input from the Kryptonian, and he shakes his head in frustration, snarling, "Shit." He stands up himself, stalking away a few paces and then pivoting back, Sounds like this Krypton's like a war zone. The things that make you valuable in a war zone, they look down on in civvie life. A lot of them, at least." Still, he shakes his head a bit, "But home ain't about bein' popular. Home's about family, and about havin' a reason to stay livin'." His heartbeat speeds up just a touch, for all that his face doesn't change. "If you don't got a mission, then you got no reason to act. Need to figure out what's important, focus in on that. Forget the rest." Look, The Punisher may not be the best person to get life coaching from, all things considered. Stepping back toward the confused, cringing captive, he snarls, "Who the hell do you work for, Calkins?"

The guy shakes his head, "Nobody, man! I'm between jobs!" True… or at least mostly true. Kind of true. Less true that he would probably like it to be, but more true than not true. "I'm a contractor, man. Someone gives me a job, I do it!"

* * *

Taking in a deep breath, Kara lets it out through her nose, she's still got her arms folded but a hand comes up here or there to emphasize things she's saying. "Krypton, isn't a war zone. We had, millenias of peace, internally. There were the daxamites, and other alien races who wanted our technology so we had to defend it… but, we were a culture that was pushing into the future. Reason based, invention based - But, it's… it's all gone. I'm the last." She says more slowly and kicks a trashcan, that dents before it explodes out of the alleyway, flying into the side of a building a few blocks away with a loudish crash, and some rocks crumbling to the ground that causes people to shout about the noise, and such. It's blocks away, so none of them are even sure what happened.

<Kryptonian word, sounds a lot like an expressive swear word, but it is jibberish to an Earthling> "Stupid planet…" And turning to the guy talking, she stomps over, cracking concrete between her feet, and she lets her eyes flare up, "Look. You -know- what he's asking. Why are you delaying your information." She zaps the concrete right next to his head, and it explodes out since concrete has a lot of air. It's a small little explosion but enough to draw attention from Calkins, "Just speak up. Who do you get jobs -from-? Where do you get them -at-? What -jobs- do you take? IF you lie to me, or don't tell me exactly what I want to know. I might just look at you longer than I can hold this back." And her eyes get brighter, but don't emit just yet.

* * *

Frank starts back a little as she sends the trash can ballistic, his right hand twitching for the small of his back despite the claim to be bulletproof. As she said, people always try pulling guns early and often on Kryptonians. But then he quite definitively stretches his hand away from the holstered pistol at his back, shaking his fingers out and then letting the hand hang at his side. He looks along the flight path, then back to Kara, "You got a lotta potential, ma'am. You could do a whole lotta good. But you gotta keep your eyes on the mission. Even if it's just getting one shitstain," he gestures to the captive, "to talk. Otherwise you put noncombatants in danger." And then she's using laser-vision, and his eyes widen again, "Jesus Christ." Of course, Frank's reaction is mild compared to Calkins, who frantically tries to shield his eyes from the detonation, and then to squirm farther away, "Holy shit!" At least they both blasphemed, right? Calkins shakes his head, "I get jobs from a buncha people, man. I've worked for a lotta companies. Blackwater, Anvil, Executive Action, Samson. But I don't know this guy," He nods toward Frank, then flinches, "I mean everybody knows about him," at least everyone in the Tri-State area, "but I haven't gotten no jobs about him!" Truth.

* * *

Standing up from her semi-crouched position, Kara turns to Frank. The much taller man, "Dead-end. Though from the way he's talking it looks like he could be utilized in a court case against these others." And she nods her head, "I mean, sure. I have tons of potential - I destroy property really well, I get lectured -all the time-." Kara states, "My potential to screw up is about the only thing Super about me."

Turning back to the Calkins guy she mentions, "He should really be let go after this, he's been honest. You know? That's a pretty rare thing. I mean, let go, like as in, dropped off at a black site prison or something. Just… you know, not killed. Or, missing limbs. I just… I value honesty. This world is missing a lot of it."

* * *

"I don't know if it's honesty when it's because he's afraid of having his head exploded, ma'am." Frank's words are dry as the Sahara, but still, he nods, "Yeah. He's a killer, but not a murderer." There's a difference to him, clearly. "That I know of." The last is directed to Calkins, but honestly, the captive is clearly far more terrified of the smaller blonde than the big guy in the skull vest. "And being a merc ain't illegal, as long as it happens outside the US. Me, I figure a smart guy like Calkins here," Frank draws the Ka-Bar knife at his belt, and that gets the man's attention, "he'll go straight to the cops and confess to any crimes he might," the knife slices once, parting the paired zip-ties, "have committed." He looks over to Kara, "Or you might have to find him. I bet you could do that, couldn't you?" It's apparently a rhetorical question, because Frank straightens up, sheathes the knife, and steps back, looking back over to Supergirl with a thoughtful scowl, "I was a little shit in high school. The Marine Corps whipped me into shape, gave me purpose, gave me control." His eyes narrow slightly, "But as much as I think the Corps would love to have a super-powered boot, I don't figure that'd work for you. You want to find a home, you've gotta find a family, people who got your back. And you've gotta find a mission, 'cause that'll give you the discipline to not break shit you don't mean to break, to not put non-combatants in danger."

* * *

"I know people who would lie even still." Kara mentions and looks over to Calkins before looking back to Frank. She smiles a bit, "Yes, yes I could. I can actually pretty much hear everything that goes on, on Earth." A pause before she shrugs, "I can track by sound, smell, visuals. You know, if I'm really looking for someone and have met them before, I can even tell by foot steps, heart beat, those kinds of things. I once found a cat miles away from home, just by literally sniffing its collar. And that was -easy-." A soft chuckle, not necessarily trying to intimidate, just oversharing on just how AWESOME she is, and then she looks back over to Calkins and gives him a finger wave. To Frank again, and she frowns, "Well, that's just it. My -family- is all… dead, except Kal. But he's… old, and Earthling like. I was supposed to… raise him. That was my purpose, now I'm just on some stupid fragile planet, with stupid fragile people. No one wants me, I've tried to join super groups. They… they look at me like I've replaced all of them, and to be honest, I have. So, I just, I go it alone. And, they could get hurt, or die, but me? I, frankly, Frank, I wouldn't really care if I get hurt - sometimes I wish I -could- get hurt."

All this talking, presumably while Calkins is getting up and moving along toward the closest police station. But, Kara would probably be talking whether he was around or not still. "No one, understands. I mean, bad things happen to people but… they can still go to a crypt, or visit their childhood home. Read a book that their father read them…" She slumps and just bumps up against the alley's wall, and slides down till she's sitting on the ground.

* * *

Calkins looks to Frank, then looks to Kara, and there's the distinct smell of human urine as one of his pants legs gets darker. He's pretty dehydrated, but otherwise healthy. You know, to those who can tell such things by scent alone. He stammers something that might be a reassurance, and then turns and bolts from the room, leaving Frank to clean off his knife on his sleeve, check it, and then sheath it. Only then does he turn his attention fully to Kara, "With all due respect, ma'am, that's scary as fuck." And there is some fear in the quickening of his heart, in the widening of his eyes, the sourness of his sweat. But it's tightly controlled fear. "To criminals and vigilantes both. Hell, just to people who have like, done one little thing wrong in their lives." He pauses, tilting his head slightly to one side, "But family, it ain't just the people you're born close to. Family's the people you pick up on the way, even when you aren't trying." This time, the pause is longer, and when he speaks again, his voice is tight, even a little brittle, "My wife, my kids, they were killed just over a year ago. My parents are long dead. I shouldn't have a family. But I do. It's the people who stood beside me when things got tough. The people who backed me up, or questioned what I was doin' because they cared. That's what family is."

* * *

"Yeah, well. I don't have that. People -say- they care about me, but they have to." Kara softly chuckles, while sniffling, "I ruin everything." And she wipes her face with her sleeve, eyes then nose, and she stands up by sheer force of will, just like flying. Instead of utilizing physics and body joints, she's just, rising up.

"Hey, thanks for letting me, stick around. Most people I know would just… cover my eyes or something. Or tell me I shouldn't be there for that." And Kara sniffles again, trying to get her composure back. "Sorry to hear about your family. I wish, mine was still around. Every day. I'm, sure you do as well. So, um, listen. If, you are ever in really bad trouble, and you need help. Just, call out for uh, Supergirl. I know you probably won't, your pretty tough, but just in case. I wouldn't want your new family to lose you." And then it looks like she's getting ready to do that thing those capes do, fly off to stop a tidal wave or something.

* * *

"Then find it." Frank stops a moment when she just rises up to her feet, blinking in surprise and then shaking it off, "You can hear all that shit about people, you know when they care. So find the people who care." His lips press together, and the next words come out grudgingly, "It takes time, and sometimes you gotta reach a hand out to them too." Snorting softly with dry amusement, he looks over his shoulder to where Calkins was bound, "Naw. Didn't even have to get rough. Probably saved him some blood and a whole lot of pain, just cost him some dignity." The offer draws a thoughtful grunt, but he nods, "Yeah, I ain't so easy to get a hold of, but I guess you can pretty much do that any time you want. And yeah, I miss 'em every day. That's why I focus on the mission."

* * *

Supergirl waves a little bit, kind of fidgetting with her skirt a moment, as a nervous sort of fidget. And then she takes in a deep breath, "Thanks for listening." And she then zooms off. She's not mastered taking off from the ground without creating some blowback just yet, maybe she never will, but the gust isn't bad enough to know Frank over. It is enough to move trash about the alley, and could of made someone smaller and less fit take a few steps back.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License