More Mayhem can be found here:http://www.comicvine.com/forums/fan-fic-8/marvel-mayhem-library-1459473/
And this directly continues from Pt 1:http://www.comicvine.com/forums/fan-fic-8/punisher-and-deadpool-1-1459498/#0
Punisher War Journal
Don’t like ditching allies but after the gunfight with the Pazzo’s that alley is too hot, Dragunov should be able to escape without too much trouble. Besides he can deal with General Zakharov, if it is him…I remember when you put bullets in people they STAYED DEAD!
Two weeks and no leads on Black Talon. That’s the problem when you deal with the pajama people, they don’t play by the rules! Hide and seek is fine; but mutant magic invisible cloaking and bloodhound radar seeking changes the game. But he’ll surface, $#!^ always does!
Only problem with Ma & Pa’s place is the clientele it attracts. I watch some mechanical idiot get bounced out by Pa for giving Ma some lip. I give Pa a nod but he’s got it under control, he’s ex-Army and a tough SOB.
What’s a robot eating food for anyway?
Frank hunched his shoulders and leant into his trench coat as he walked through the park. It was nearing midnight and a slight chill had gripped the air. The park was almost a city unto itself.
“Wallet! Keys! Phone!”
Frank looked up at the large man blocking his path and shook his head.
“I heard you the first time!” snarled Frank as the coat opened and he levelled a shotgun at the man’s throat.
“Oh %$^& man! I’m sorry!” pleaded the man.
“You will be” and with that Frank pulled the trigger, the gunshot echoing around the park. Frank stepped over the mostly headless torso and continued his walk as sirens rang out in the distance.
Grand Central Station
Hammerhead sat reading a paper on one of the few benches in the iconic terminal. Even at night the place still had a hustle and bustle to it. A dark skinned man in a grey tracksuit sat down next to him.
“Beat it!” growled Hammerhead.
“I believe we had a meeting?”
The man nodded “Dat be me, and it’s Black Talon”
“I half expected you to be wearing that chicken headdress!” sniggered Hammerhead.
“We can’t all be such trendy dressers.” replied Black Talon eyeing the gangster in his traditional 30’s style outfit.
Hammerhead roughly folded the paper “So?”
“Oh I got what you want, have you got what I want?”
Hammerhead put his arm around Black Talon and dropped a locker key into his lap “Two hundred as agreed. Now where is he?”
“See that homeless guy with the trolley? He’s in the trolley. Homeless guy is also yours, compliments of Damballah”
Hammerhead stood up and whacked the paper into Talon’s chest “If this goes South…I’m just saying”
Black Talon picked up the keys to the locker “Best you not be crossing me either”
Hell’s Kitchen Motel
Frank dropped three twenties on the desk in exchange for a key. The clerk didn’t look up, which is why Frank used this place. They took cash, they didn’t ask questions, they didn’t cause trouble and they were twenty four hours.
He trudged up the well worn staircase that creaked under his weight. The whole place was held together by defect notices, rat faeces and sheer luck. He entered his room and crashed on the bed fully clothed.
Frank closed his eyes. Every time he did his mind replayed the day his family was killed. Though it was years ago, every night it was fresh in the forefront of his mind. His burden; his cross to carry.
Slowly, eventually, the Punisher drifted off to another bout of restless unsatisfying sleep.
Hammerhead stood next to the homeless guy and his trolley in the courtyard. Various stains were etched into the concrete, some motor oil, most of it old blood. The ominous whirr clunk sound approached as Silvio Manfredi, the notorious Silvermane, walked into view.
“Hammerhead,” he said softly as he licked his old lips “This better be good”
“It won’t take long.” said Hammerhead “Our main problem is talent. We get someone and they either end up dead or switching sides thanks to either the Punisher or Fisk or the cops or…”
“You got me out of bed,” interrupted Silvermane “At two in the morning, to tell me things I ALREADY KNOW!”
Hammerhead shook his head “This is why we aren’t up where Fisk is, you and you’re yelling! Could you let me finish?” Silvio’s face shook with rage but he bit his ancient teeth and beckoned him to continue “Thank you. Also paying them, it’s a wasted expense! So…” He pulled the sheet of the trolley to reveal a reanimated Kraven the Hunter “What if we just use dead guys?”
Silvermane took a step back, making signs of the cross “What is that?”
“It use to be Kraven, now he’s essentially a smelly robot.” said Hammerhead “And here’s the best bit…” He drew a gun and blew a hole in the head of the homeless guy. He hit the floor.
“You ki…” Hammerhead shot Silvio a look to shut him up and then the homeless guy did the rest, as he got back to his feet.
“See!” smiled Hammerhead “You can’t kill a dead guy! If you destroy enough of the head, he’ll ‘die’ again but they don’t back chat, don’t talk to the cops, don’t switch sides, they can take hits until he’s basically hamburger mince. And it’s cheap!”
“How cheap?” queried Silvermane as his interest grew.
“Two hundred grand a corpse” replied Hammerhead
“That’s not cheap!” barked Silvermane.
“Cheaper in the long run than running a live crew for five years. These guys don’t get sick or need time off. No bail.”
Silvermane rubbed his wrinkled chin “I want to see what this…zombie Kraven can do?”
“I thought you might,” Hammerhead smiled and walked over to the hulking mound that use to be the proud hunter of men. He held up a video phone and pushed play “This is Wilson Fisk. He lives down at Fisk Tower. You’re going to go there and kill him then jump off the building!”
Punisher War Journal
Something is wrong…something is off. Can’t put my finger on it. Something always gets ^%$#@ up when I feel this way…
To be continued