The scope wasn’t that of his rifle but it still did its job in helping Frank locate his target. He made a note. These dirtbags were part of the Dogs of War. They were low level; they knew nothing, were new and worked at the most basic tasks the group had. They couldn’t be fully trusted yet.
Nonetheless, someone who was trusted still over saw them and that person had connections, and that was Frank’s target tonight. The man was in his early thirties and looked like he could use a bullet between his eyes. He was berating a newbie on some job; maybe he didn’t bring enough dough or sold enough drugs.
Frank didn’t give a shit. He would take them all out in time. He just needed to make sure he connected all the pieces right. The dirt piles that killed his family came first before anyone else, if the Dogs of War weren’t the ones responsible then he had no plans on killing them.
Once he was done cleaning up, God knows there was still more to pick up after. First, it was strictly personal.
Yeah. Things were definitely adding. Up. His trigger finger twitched. A few more rifles, ammo and weapons. A few more recon sessions. Everything was adding up slowly.
Frank grinned, savagely, and put the scope away. Yes. Everything was coming together. He was missing pieces here and there but he’d get to them just like this.
He ran a hand through his growing hair. It wasn’t too bad but it irritated him. He needed a haircut. His hand skidded over his most recent gunshot wound. Another reminder of his mission.
He looked at his watch. He had to go meet up with Jack. He sighed. He needed cover and it was a necessary annoyance.
His body protested his walk away. Better than last time. He was tired nonetheless. Cover was acceptable use of recovery time. He reminded himself. He went to drop off his notes and changed at his safe house.
Frank met Jack at an empty bar. It was oddly loud from the blaring televisions on the walls. The noise buzzed in the back of his head. He doesn’t know how he did it before or tolerated it, this nonsense.
Jack came into view of his periphery. A beer fell onto the tabletop with a muted clank. Jack grinned
“You’ll see. They a good beer selection.” he shook his own bottle, a twin of the one in front of Frank. “You’ll see. This place is worth the beer alone.” He said asssuredly. Frank just nodded and took a swig from his beer. The combination of its flavors was almost soothing. It was good, just as Jack had promised. At least that had delivered.
“You’re not wrong.” Jack grinned in agreement and took another swig of his bottle. They talked about nothing really, but it distracted Frank enough to enjoy the alcohol. They finished the first beer fast. Jack ordered two more, different brew but just as good. By the time they were ready for a third the bar had filled more, not a weekend crowd but a presence that had Frank uneasy.
“You have to try the onion rings.” Jack said as he came back with the third. “The beer and rings are fantastic together. Matty loves them.”
“You bring him here?” Frank asked surprised Jack laughed and shook his head.
“No. I take them home. I’m a single father, not an irresponsible buffoon. I mean I know I look like one but come on.” He waved to his face. The faintest traces of a bruise shadowed the left side. Not Frank’s work, it was a recent match that Jack had won. Frank had watched.
It had been a good fight. It was one thing to spar with Jack; it was another to see him actually fight. Man was like a brick house. He wouldn’t go down. After a while it was just a matter of one-two-K-O.
Clearly he had been going easy on Frank.
“Some bars are grills in the day.” Frank answered instead of confirming the dig. Jack’s eyes narrowed. He knew what Frank had meant but he let it go. He drank from his beer.
“So what do you say? Yes or no to the rings?”
“Yeah. I’ll try them. You were right about the beer so might as well try the complete package.” Jack moved to get up. “I’ll buy. You got the beers.” And Frank didn’t have a son to support on an amateur boxer’s income. Frank grimaced, as he had to push his way through the crowd.
CHEMICAL SPILL IN HELL’S KITCHEN
RAND CHEMICALS DENIES RESPONSIBILITY IN HELL’S KITCHEN CRASH
LOCAL BOY SAVES MAN, BLINDED, IN RAND FIASCO
Frank read all the articles he could find after learning about the deposition. The glare from the lenses of the sunglasses in the gym as the read each article came to mind during each of them. The assured smirk. The goading little pain in his ass was a hero. Least he could do was help his father with onion rings.
He ordered two servings, one to go, and when the order came out he returned to the place at the bar next Jack. Jack raised a brow at the box but didn’t comment until Frank pushed it toward him. “For you kid.”
“You don’t have to.” Jack said and didn’t take the box. Frank rolled his eyes.
“Take them, last thing you want is your kid whining about not having brought him anything.” He lifted the beer. “Think of as a thank you for decent beer and food.” he took a bite of the onion ring. Huh. It was good. “Kind of been living off crappy take out.” Which wasn’t a lie. Frank didn’t have the time to be cooking when he could be working.
Jack stared at him. Then, after a moment, took the box with thanks. They went back to their talk, half nothing and half about an upcoming baseball game that Frank had somehow agreed to try and catch with Jack.
They split after that beer. Jack headed to pick up Matt from a neighbor and then home. Frank went back to his safe house. He felt sated even though the false calm from the alcohol was almost gone by the time he headed to sleep. It was worth the few hours of uninterrupted sleep he got from that.
Fill 4/? : Frank/Jack Murdock: Matt gains another father
Nonetheless, someone who was trusted still over saw them and that person had connections, and that was Frank’s target tonight. The man was in his early thirties and looked like he could use a bullet between his eyes. He was berating a newbie on some job; maybe he didn’t bring enough dough or sold enough drugs.
Frank didn’t give a shit. He would take them all out in time. He just needed to make sure he connected all the pieces right. The dirt piles that killed his family came first before anyone else, if the Dogs of War weren’t the ones responsible then he had no plans on killing them.
Once he was done cleaning up, God knows there was still more to pick up after. First, it was strictly personal.
Yeah. Things were definitely adding. Up. His trigger finger twitched. A few more rifles, ammo and weapons. A few more recon sessions. Everything was adding up slowly.
Frank grinned, savagely, and put the scope away. Yes. Everything was coming together. He was missing pieces here and there but he’d get to them just like this.
He ran a hand through his growing hair. It wasn’t too bad but it irritated him. He needed a haircut. His hand skidded over his most recent gunshot wound. Another reminder of his mission.
He looked at his watch. He had to go meet up with Jack. He sighed. He needed cover and it was a necessary annoyance.
His body protested his walk away. Better than last time. He was tired nonetheless. Cover was acceptable use of recovery time. He reminded himself. He went to drop off his notes and changed at his safe house.
Frank met Jack at an empty bar. It was oddly loud from the blaring televisions on the walls. The noise buzzed in the back of his head. He doesn’t know how he did it before or tolerated it, this nonsense.
Jack came into view of his periphery. A beer fell onto the tabletop with a muted clank. Jack grinned
“You’ll see. They a good beer selection.” he shook his own bottle, a twin of the one in front of Frank. “You’ll see. This place is worth the beer alone.” He said asssuredly. Frank just nodded and took a swig from his beer. The combination of its flavors was almost soothing. It was good, just as Jack had promised. At least that had delivered.
“You’re not wrong.” Jack grinned in agreement and took another swig of his bottle. They talked about nothing really, but it distracted Frank enough to enjoy the alcohol. They finished the first beer fast. Jack ordered two more, different brew but just as good. By the time they were ready for a third the bar had filled more, not a weekend crowd but a presence that had Frank uneasy.
“You have to try the onion rings.” Jack said as he came back with the third. “The beer and rings are fantastic together. Matty loves them.”
“You bring him here?” Frank asked surprised Jack laughed and shook his head.
“No. I take them home. I’m a single father, not an irresponsible buffoon. I mean I know I look like one but come on.” He waved to his face. The faintest traces of a bruise shadowed the left side. Not Frank’s work, it was a recent match that Jack had won. Frank had watched.
It had been a good fight. It was one thing to spar with Jack; it was another to see him actually fight. Man was like a brick house. He wouldn’t go down. After a while it was just a matter of one-two-K-O.
Clearly he had been going easy on Frank.
“Some bars are grills in the day.” Frank answered instead of confirming the dig. Jack’s eyes narrowed. He knew what Frank had meant but he let it go. He drank from his beer.
“So what do you say? Yes or no to the rings?”
“Yeah. I’ll try them. You were right about the beer so might as well try the complete package.” Jack moved to get up. “I’ll buy. You got the beers.” And Frank didn’t have a son to support on an amateur boxer’s income. Frank grimaced, as he had to push his way through the crowd.
CHEMICAL SPILL IN HELL’S KITCHEN
RAND CHEMICALS DENIES RESPONSIBILITY IN HELL’S KITCHEN CRASH
LOCAL BOY SAVES MAN, BLINDED, IN RAND FIASCO
Frank read all the articles he could find after learning about the deposition. The glare from the lenses of the sunglasses in the gym as the read each article came to mind during each of them. The assured smirk. The goading little pain in his ass was a hero. Least he could do was help his father with onion rings.
He ordered two servings, one to go, and when the order came out he returned to the place at the bar next Jack. Jack raised a brow at the box but didn’t comment until Frank pushed it toward him. “For you kid.”
“You don’t have to.” Jack said and didn’t take the box. Frank rolled his eyes.
“Take them, last thing you want is your kid whining about not having brought him anything.” He lifted the beer. “Think of as a thank you for decent beer and food.” he took a bite of the onion ring. Huh. It was good. “Kind of been living off crappy take out.” Which wasn’t a lie. Frank didn’t have the time to be cooking when he could be working.
Jack stared at him. Then, after a moment, took the box with thanks. They went back to their talk, half nothing and half about an upcoming baseball game that Frank had somehow agreed to try and catch with Jack.
They split after that beer. Jack headed to pick up Matt from a neighbor and then home. Frank went back to his safe house. He felt sated even though the false calm from the alcohol was almost gone by the time he headed to sleep. It was worth the few hours of uninterrupted sleep he got from that.