Escanor(Marvel)

I saw a middle-aged man with light stubble on his face. His features were rough, and his eyes radiated an icy coldness. In his hand, he held a broad knife, pressed against my throat. He wore a black coat, and underneath it, I could see a T-shirt with the image of a skull.

Had I finally messed up and gotten caught by them? No, unlikely… He probably wasn't connected to the gang. But that symbol… on his chest. I had seen it somewhere before. Or maybe heard about it.

[image]

"Now talk. Who are you, and why are you following them?" he said in a sharp tone.

"I… I'm Peter. This is just my spot. I like watching the stars," I mumbled, but before I could finish, the cold blade pressed harder against my throat. It was clear he didn't believe me.

"I'm watching this gang. I want to kill them," I blurted out, barely suppressing the tremble in my voice.

"Kill them? So, one of your loved ones was their victim?" There was a strange mix of sympathy and wariness in his voice. "Don't worry, kid. I'll take care of them. You have no business here. This is a job for adults," he added, his tone shifting to something softer, almost fatherly.

Listening to him, I realized this was my chance. I knew who he was The Punisher.

"Wait! Let me help you!" I blurted out before I could think.

He gave me a piercing look, and I felt an odd weakness wash over me. His face remained unreadable.

"You're just a kid. This war isn't for you," he said coldly, but without malice. "Like I said, I'll handle it. Leave."

His tone left no room for argument, but I knew this wasn't over.

"I have a good reason. They're not responsible for my loved ones' deaths, but the people behind them are. And they're far more dangerous than just some street gang. Taking them out won't change anything. They'll find new pawns, and the cycle will continue. Let me help you," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

The Punisher stood in silence for a moment, as if weighing my words.

"Alright, screw it. Tell me what you know. But keep in mind my patience isn't unlimited," he finally said.

"There's an organization conducting experiments on mutants. This gang is just a tool, a way to capture new subjects for their experiments," I explained.

"Mutants?" The Punisher frowned.

"Yeah. People with special abilities. You've heard about the Battle of New York, right?" I continued.

"I've heard."

"So, you want to find out who's behind all this? You need someone to talk, is that it? What was your plan to get to them?" he asked, studying me carefully.

There was no longer distrust in his voice. It seemed like he was starting to believe me, though cautiously.

"I was planning to use the ventilation system and knock them out," I admitted.

"Stupid plan. That stuff isn't easy to get, and by the time you try, they'll notice something's off," The Punisher cut in.

I lowered my head in disappointment. He was right. I didn't have the experience to come up with a solid plan. This man was far more prepared than I was. I had heard stories about him the man who delivered his own brand of justice and made sure scum didn't escape punishment in Hell's Kitchen.

"But it's possible. We'll use the ventilation to weaken them that'll give us a good advantage against fifty men," he added after a brief pause. "I'll be back here in three days. I need time to get the necessary equipment and ingredients. If you change your mind by then, or if the situation changes that's not my problem. I'll kill everyone who's there," he said harshly, then turned and walked away, leaving me alone on the rooftop.

What could I say? I had unexpectedly found an ally in the last place I expected.

Gathering my thoughts, I headed home. Exhaustion weighed me down, and I needed at least some rest before my morning training.

**************

"Ow!" I yelped, grabbing my arm as it was sharply twisted. "Okay, okay, I give up! Stop!" I shouted, begging for mercy.

"You're distracted today. What's wrong?" Collins asked, releasing her grip.

She had me locked in a painful hold, her legs firmly securing my body while her hands twisted mine. The pain was just as sharp as the first time something impossible to get used to.

Back when I first found myself alone in Hell's Kitchen, I barely had the strength to defend myself, let alone keep hold of my own belongings. Getting robbed was just a part of life.

I remembered the moment I first met Collins. A girl whose appearance didn't hint at her strength except, perhaps, for the calluses on her hands. At first glance, she seemed harmless. But it took only a few seconds into our first sparring match for me to realize, with bitter clarity, just how wrong I was.

Despite her short stature and delicate build, she possessed an incredibly high level of combat skill. I couldn't even land a hit on her, while her strikes were precise and painful.

"Didn't sleep well," I replied, rubbing my sore arm.

"Sleep is the most important part of your routine. It helps the body recover and lets your muscles rest. Without proper sleep, you won't be able to train effectively," Collins said in a lecturing tone.

Her voice was strict, as always, but there was a hint of care in it. She saw me as a kid and often treated me almost like a mother would though I refused to acknowledge it.

"Thanks for the training. Should I start cleaning now?" I asked, wiping sweat from my forehead.

"Yes, go ahead," Collins replied.

That was our deal: I helped with cleaning, and in return, she trained me personally.

Honestly, she didn't have many clients, which surprised me. I figured anyone would be lucky to learn from a master. But I chalked it up to the fact that not everyone trusted her methods or believed a woman could teach them anything. Then again, in Hell's Kitchen, people preferred guns over hand-to-hand combat.

Grabbing a bucket and a rag, I started mopping the floor, lost in thought about how I ended up in this situation.

Revenge had brought me to Hell's Kitchen. Then, for a long time, I lost the ability to do anything about it. And now, I was finally getting back on that path.

I often wondered: would my parents approve of what I was trying to do? Would they support me or be against it?

But in those rare moments of silence that I allowed myself, I always came to the same conclusion I had to do everything in my power to make sure no one else suffered at the hands of people like them.

Finishing up the cleaning, I said goodbye to Collins and headed home.

That night, I only got three hours of sleep. But after training and cleaning, exhaustion finally caught up with me, and I could hardly resist the pull of sleep.

*******************

The day continued with the usual work at the bar. Josie was already bustling behind the counter, while a few customers sat, leisurely sipping their drinks.

"Leon, bring a dark and a light beer from the kitchen," she called out the moment she noticed me.

"Got it," I replied, slipping on my apron as I headed to the kitchen.

Finding the two kegs I needed, I carefully carried them to the bar. I placed one on the floor, unwrapped it, and removed the lid. Attaching the hose, I pressed the button to let the beer flow into the serving reservoir. I repeated the process with the second keg.

The workday began with the usual flow of customers. The closer it got to the evening, the more people filled the place.

"Hey, leave these two seats for Matt and Foggy," Josie told two men who were about to sit at the bar. They didn't argue and found a table elsewhere. She always kept a couple of stools reserved for them.

According to her, they had once helped her out of serious trouble with the authorities. Josie had told me that a city inspector had tried to shut down her bar over allegedly invalid certificates, which were actually in order. Matt and Foggy, both lawyers, had taken care of the problem for free, saving her business. Since then, they had become her regulars, always guaranteed a spot at the bar.

I learned that they had their own law firm, helping clients including those who couldn't afford expensive legal services. It seemed strange to me how could they run a business while barely making any money? But their genuine desire to help people was something I couldn't help but respect.

As the shift went on, I carried drinks, cleared dirty dishes, and wiped down tables.

On the TV screen in the corner, the news was playing.

"Footage from the scene: yesterday, a massive green giant nearly destroyed the city, reminiscent of the events in New York. However, the U.S. armed forces managed to contain the threat and push it back. The entity's current whereabouts remain unknown," the anchor reported in an even tone, while a headline scrolled across the bottom of the screen.

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"What the hell… What kind of crazy world do we live in? I need a drink just to process this," muttered one of the nearby customers, taking a sip from his glass while keeping his eyes on the screen.

I couldn't help but wonder where was the military when we were fighting in New York? From the footage, it was clear that bullets and rockets didn't harm that thing. I doubted they had actually defeated it. More likely, this was just a staged attempt to reassure the public that the brave military had handled the threat. I needed to recover my strength quickly. I couldn't afford to be caught off guard.

"Leon, why are you just standing there? Get over here," Josie called, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I tore my gaze away from the screen and headed to the bar.

"Take over for me. I need to step out for a bit," she said.

"Alright, I got this," I replied, moving behind the counter.

As I went about my routine, I noticed new customers entering.

The bar doors swung open, and a man carefully stepped inside, tapping his cane against the floor. The door didn't close behind him Foggy followed, holding it open.

"Well, shall we celebrate another successfully closed case?" Foggy said with a grin.

"A drink sounds good," Matt replied calmly.

"Our seats are free. Let's sit," Foggy said, heading to the bar.

Using his cane, Matt confidently, though a bit slowly, followed him. Despite being blind, it didn't stop him from working as a lawyer and handling complex cases. I was always amazed by his ability to spot loopholes in even the most tangled legal documents. Not all sighted people could work as sharply as he did.

"Leon, where's Josie?" Foggy asked as they reached the counter.

"She'll be back soon. I'm covering for her," I replied.

"Then pour us two glasses of cold beer," Foggy requested.

"Coming right up."

I quickly poured the drinks, making sure the foam was just right. Handing them their glasses, I watched as they clinked them together.

"To us," Matt said quietly, and they both took a sip.

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"To us to Nelson & Murdock," Foggy raised his glass in a toast, smiling before taking a sip.

Matt was more reserved. He silently took a small sip and then asked,

"Was the beer just poured?"

"Yeah, I just tapped the kegs today and filled the system," I replied.

What always amazed me about him was his ability to notice things that escaped everyone else. It was as if he compensated for his blindness with an incredible attention to detail. Sometimes, I even thought he had supernatural abilities like he was a mutant.

Judging by their good mood, they had won another case. That was definitely a reason to celebrate. From their conversation, I gathered that they had defended a group of tenants whose rights had been violated. A typical story: a construction company tried to bypass the law by offering the bare minimum in compensation to the residents. They claimed the demolition was urgent and that the tenants were only entitled to a symbolic payout. Panicked and overwhelmed, most of them had signed the agreements.

Foggy and Matt, however, had managed to find loopholes in the contracts and proved that the building posed no immediate danger. As a result, the company was forced to pay the tenants the full value of their apartments.

These two were true professionals. Not many lawyers would take on cases where the outcome might not be worth the effort.

I thought of my father.

In New York, you couldn't get by without a lawyer. I remembered how, as a kid, I used to watch him work at his firm. Every contract was scrutinized for months before anyone would sign it. Not a single document was approved without being checked from top to bottom.

A wave of sadness washed over me. I missed him.

"Sorry, Foggy, I have to go," Matt suddenly said, pulling me from my thoughts.

"What? Again? We just got here," Foggy said, surprised.

"Sorry, I really have to go. Thanks for the drinks," Matt replied quickly, standing up and leaving some cash along with a tip on the counter.

"Again?" I asked, already used to this happening from time to time.

"Sometimes I just don't understand him, Leon. We're supposed to be best friends, but he keeps secrets from me. He disappears for days without explaining where he goes," Foggy said, swirling his beer in the glass before taking another sip.

"Maybe one day he'll tell you," I suggested.

Heartfelt conversations with customers were part of the job. Knowing how to listen, choosing the right words, and helping people it was something Josie had taught me. Many people came to bars looking for comfort.

"Maybe," Foggy replied.

He sat in silence for a few more minutes, then paid for his drinks and left. I stayed behind the bar, shifting my focus to other tasks. After a while, Josie returned and took over, letting me go back to my usual duties.

The rest of the day flew by, and before I knew it, I collapsed onto my bed, completely drained. There was no point in gathering more intel the time for observation was over. It was time to take action.