Roosevelt Hotel,45 East 45th Street
Frank got out of the cab, a little worse for wear from being at the business of several scotches but not drunk. A young lady tumbled out behind him
“You live here?” she said in a combination of drunkenness, naivety and stupidity as she wobbled on her ridiculous heels
“For the time being” said Frank “Now stay here!”
“Your money honey” she said lighting up a cigarette
Frank entered the lobby and up to the concierge desk “Is my other room ready?” Frank asked
“Mr…”
“Castiglione. Francis”
“You look familiar” said the concierge
“I get that a lot” said Frank “My room?”
“Sorry sir. Yes, room 921 right next door to…your room” A puzzled yet knowing smile came over his face
“Tight lips, blind eyes” said Frank as he tossed a hundred dollar note at him
“Yes sir” said the concierge as he bent down to pick it up and then went to the back to do something else
Frank headed outside and grabbed the girl by the arm
“Hey!” she complained “I hadn’t finished my cigarette”
Frank glared at her and she instantly shut up “Here!” he handed her a door card “Room 922. Go!”
Across the street from Roosevelt Hotel, rooftop
White Death snapped awake from his slumber. Castle had just come out of the hotel. He looked through his binoculars and saw him with…well not his wife. He made out the words as nine twenty two, exactly what his contact in the NYPD had told him. He checked the street and worked out the trajectory. White Death watched until Frank headed inside, following the girl
“Get ready to die Frank” said White Death as he fired a grapple into the Roosevelt and prepared his attack
Lift, Roosevelt Hotel
Frank and the girl face wrestled in the lift. Frank’s inner voice berated him but he wasn’t listening. It was the last time…he’d said that before as well. The lift stopped and Frank pushed the girl out
“Hey!” she whinged “You want rough; its extra!”
“Shut up” Frank went to 921 “Have a shower. I’ll be in shortly”
“You’re a bossy thing aren’t ya?” said the girl in mock anger as she fell into room 922 “Oopsie!”
Frank shut the door behind him.
What are you doing you idiot! You’re married! Stop it! Just give her some cash and send her away. It won’t make up for the other times…she’s already here. You’ve paid for it…whose going to know…just like the other times, nobody knows…well you do. Idiot!
Frank walked to his bed and opened his travel bag and dumped the contents out. Clothes, laptop, bottle of scotch, condoms and his Glock 39. Frank grabbed the gun and considered blowing his head off…then thought about getting a cab and heading down to Lucky’s Bar where Richard Fisk was known to hang out…it’d be so easy
His inner thoughts were rocked back to reality when he heard the smashing of glass, the girls scream and three loud shots. Frank snapped into soldier and cop mode. He checked his weapon and headed to his window. He could see curtains blowing in the wind. What the hell is going on? Frank grabbed the complimentary matches from the ashtray and sparked them up, holding them under the sprinkler system. Soon water and sirens filled his room and echoed through the hotel. Frank smashed his window and clambered to his other room
Room 922
Where the #$%^!& is he? wondered White Death as he looked at the body of the wet naked girl lying slumped against the bed. He checked the room again, under the bed and slowly headed to the bathroom. The room then filled with water and sirens
“This is !@#$%^}!” snarled White Death kicking open the bathroom door and pumping two shots into the room. It was empty!
“Looking for me?”
White Death turned and raised his weapon at Frank who was standing in the broken window pointing his weapon at him. White Death pulled the trigger and there was a hollow click.
“Oh s…” he didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence when Frank unloaded five shots centre mass just like training. The bullets hit home but the Kevlar trench coat prevented the desired effect. White Death breathed a sigh of relief as he quickly reloaded. Frank dive rolled into the room and from his crouched position fired three more shots into the throat area killing White Death. Frank looked around at the scene, his mind racing and pumping with adrenaline. He grabbed White Death’s hand and placed it on the gun, put the barrel on the top fleshy part of his thigh and pulled the trigger!
Frank screamed and fell backwards. He grit his teeth and dialled 911 on his phone and then threw the phone onto the lounge chair
“911 what’s your emergency?” came the barely audible question from the phone
“I’ve been shot!”
Metropolitan Hospital Center
Frank lay in his bed. Maria and the kids by his bedside
“Anything else you can tell us Frank?” asked Detective Alex Kurtz
“Not really Alex, it all happened fast. I heard the crash, then the shots. I grabbed my gun and went next door. The rest is blurry”
“You’ve got to stop this hero nonsense” chastised Maria, her eyes full of tears “It was bad enough when you were a cop”
“I’m sorry baby” said Frank taking her hand
“You’ll be out tomorrow according to the doctor” said Alex closing his notebook “Don’t go anywhere; I’m sure someone will want to ask you more questions. I’m done”
“Thanks Alex” said Frank
“No thank you” said Alex “When you’re ready to go Maria I’ll be at the nurses’ station. Get better Frank”
Lucky’s Bar
Richard Fisk looked at the article in the Daily Bugle for the ninth time “Unbelievable!”
His four bodyguards stood by not sure how or if to answer him
“How lucky is that Castle guy? And how stupid is that White Death!” he laughed, and they joined in “White Death! Who calls themselves that?”
“What would you call yourself boss?” asked Paulie, known for his fists rather than his brains
“Something simple; something classy” Richard threw the paper aside “Could you see me as one of them costumed freaks?”
“Ummm yeah boss”
“You’d be out of a job Paulie if I was a super villain”
“Oh yeah”
Richard’s cell rang, he looked at the number and knew who it was. He clicked his fingers and Carlo handed him a burn phone from his jacket. He dialled a number.
“Yeah” said Richard “I know…okay…OKAY!...Really?...No I’m not questioning I’m confir…” Richard smashed the phone into the floor and then grabbed a bar stool and smashed it over the bar “Jesus he annoys me!”
“Who boss?” asked Paulie
Richard shot him a death stare that took some time before it sunk into Paulie’s brain
“Get the chopper" said Richard "We’re going to Rochester”
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