Capítulo 30: Chapter 30: Departure
"I'll give you an offer you can't refuse."
Hearing this, Frank's first reaction was to mentally curse the man in front of him again and then smash the butt of his rifle onto the guy's face to teach him some manners. Just because this man might have ties to Fury didn't mean he could spout nonsense in front of Frank.
As a former anti-hero who had killed countless criminals, Frank knew better than anyone that when evil men begged for their lives in their final moments, they would often promise astronomical amounts of wealth. Yet, he had never accepted a single one of their pleas.
Just hours ago, Wilson Fisk—known as the Kingpin, the so-called underground emperor of New York City—had almost knelt before the Punisher, begging for mercy.
Frank understood the situation clearly. Someone like Kingpin, a towering figure in the criminal underworld, would never willingly kneel for the sake of his own life. His pride wouldn't allow it. The only reason Kingpin would debase himself like that was for his wife, Vanessa.
If Kingpin were to die, Vanessa—an ordinary person and a depressive to boot—would stand no chance of surviving this apocalyptic world.
So, Kingpin was willing to trade his dignity for the life of the woman he loved.
Even an emotionless humanoid with nothing but green tendrils might have shed a tear at the sight of such a sorrowful pair of lovers and begrudgingly let them go.
But Frank? Frank merely smiled, pulled the trigger, and killed Kingpin. Then he turned and left.
Heart-wrenching pleas and promises of untold riches—none of it could sway someone as steely as the Punisher.
Yet, when Noah finally revealed the condition he was offering, Frank felt his heart skip a beat. Without hesitation, he agreed to the request and even stepped forward to help carry Noah's luggage.
Why?
Because Noah's offer was too much to refuse.
Noah said he could give Frank a world where his wife and children were still alive.
On the deck of the Helicarrier, a Quinjet was ready to depart, its engines roaring and tail fins trembling slightly. Fury stood on the flight deck, waiting for his team to arrive.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a figure striding confidently toward the jet. Fury almost didn't believe what he was seeing.
It was Noah, walking with his usual air of nonchalance, fully aware of the attention he was drawing. His steps were deliberate, brimming with self-assuredness.
Trailing behind him was Frank Castle, the Punisher, silently carrying a bundle of luggage like a hired bodyguard.
Fury's one good eye widened in disbelief. He even adjusted his eyepatch slightly, wondering if he was seeing things. The scene was so absurd that he couldn't wrap his head around it.
When he looked again, the sight hadn't changed. Noah and the Punisher—two individuals so vastly different in demeanor and morality—were walking together.
Fury couldn't hold back his curiosity. Staring at Frank, he muttered under his breath, "How the hell did he manage to get him on board?"
Fury felt a twinge of irritation. Why hadn't Maria Hill informed him of something this significant? Recruiting someone like the Punisher right under S.H.I.E.L.D.'s nose without his knowledge was a big deal.
And Frank didn't look like he was here for a sudden killing spree or to confront a legendary villain like Doctor Doom for the sake of the world. No, Frank genuinely seemed like he was here to work for Noah.
Noah, hearing Fury's muttered question, merely smiled, clapped Fury on the shoulder, and walked onto the jet without answering.
Inside the Quinjet, Quicksilver and Wanda were already seated side by side, while Thor leaned against two crates of beer, trying to distract himself. True to his nature, Frank sat far away from everyone, silent and brooding. It suited him.
Finally, Susan Storm entered, her eyes red with emotion, accompanied by Ben Grimm, the Thing. She chose a seat somewhere in the middle, avoiding the front or the back.
As the cabin door began to close, Noah surveyed the group. These were the people Fury had arranged to join him.
Wait a minute. Where was Johnny Storm, the Human Torch?
Ah, that was typical Fury. The man was never fully transparent with anyone. After all, it's said that even married couples might betray each other in times of crisis.
But this wasn't about preventing Noah from escaping or betraying the team. The real reason was that Doctor Doom, despite his grandeur, was still a supervillain with almost no moral boundaries.
If Doom finished building his teleportation device, he wouldn't hesitate to abandon this doomed world, taking only the citizens of Latveria with him.
Leaving Johnny Storm behind served as leverage. With Susan's brother as collateral, she would hesitate to betray Fury, and she might even persuade Doom to leave a path open for S.H.I.E.L.D. when the time came.
The Quinjet ascended smoothly, its powerful thrusters lifting it into the air. As they climbed higher, Noah gazed out the window at the receding Helicarrier below and shook his head.
If Fury thought such tactics would restrain Doom, he was gravely mistaken.
Outside the jet, the sky darkened as dense storm clouds loomed closer, their rolling forms swallowing the light. The Quinjet trembled as it pierced the clouds, the cabin briefly plunging into darkness before dim yellow lights flickered on.
A sharp hiss broke the silence as someone cracked open a beer can.
Noah turned to see Thor offering him a can, his large hand extending toward him with a grin.
"Care for some?" Thor asked cheerfully.
Noah hesitated briefly before accepting the can. As he opened it, the rich aroma of the drink wafted out. He raised it to his lips, clinking it lightly against Thor's.
"Cheers," Noah said, his voice carrying a hint of battle-ready excitement.
Thor took a hearty swig, licking his lips in satisfaction. His eyes gleamed with anticipation.
As Thor gulped down the drink, Noah let the liquid linger on his tongue. The fiery burn told him this wasn't ordinary beer. It was likely a special high-proof brew made for Thor. A mortal would probably die from drinking too much of it.
Before long, even Ben Grimm couldn't resist and joined in the drinking. The atmosphere grew lively.
Finally, Noah saw his chance. He leaned closer to Thor, who had just crushed an empty beer can in his hand, and asked:
"Oh mighty son of Odin, with a tolerance for alcohol as vast as the seas—have you asked your father for advice on how to deal with this crisis?"
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