Capítulo 59: Chapter 59: Billy Russo
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Billy Russo invited Frank into his house, but as he closed the door, his expression flickered, filled with doubt. Frank's sudden arrival made him uneasy, as if something was deeply amiss.
He turned to inquire but was met with Frank pointing a gun at his head. At that moment, Billy realized Frank knew something.
"Frank..." he started, but his voice trailed off when he saw an Asian man step out from behind Frank, clearly having entered through the back door. The odds weren't in his favor: two against one.
Billy Russo's mind raced as he tried to calculate how to escape the situation.
"Frank," Link spoke, breaking the silence, "Let's interrogate him in his bathroom. Then we'll burn this place down and destroy all the evidence."
Frank nodded, agreeing. "Alright."
Panic surged through Billy. He stepped back and quickly tried to reason, "Frank, we're friends."
"Yes, friends," Frank rasped, his voice hoarse. "Because we were friends, I let you off with just a beating—blinding William Rawlins in one eye and then leaving. But you and your people didn't stop. My wife, my son, my daughter... they're all dead. And for what? For my loyalty to our so-called brotherhood."
Without warning, Frank threw a punch that landed square on Billy's face. Billy didn't fall; instead, he slumped against the door, then kicked off with his legs, hurling himself toward Frank. It was his only chance. The Asian man—Link—wasn't holding a weapon, so Frank's gun was the only thing between him and survival.
But Billy's speed was no match for Link's. With a quick flick of his wrist, a slender blade materialized in Link's hand and embedded itself in Billy's ankle. Billy screamed in pain and stumbled, his attempt to attack cut short. Frank's anger flared as he struck Billy's head with the butt of his gun, then grabbed him by the collar and dragged him away.
Link followed behind, careful to avoid the trail of blood, and retrieved his knife. In the bathroom, Frank entered a berserk rage, extracting every last piece of information from Billy Russo.
Despite Billy's desperate pleas for mercy, Frank's thirst for revenge was insatiable. He had become the Punisher—though, in reality, he was a man consumed by vengeance.
When Frank finally emerged, drenched in blood, he looked at Link and croaked, "Thank you."
His voice was raw, his eyes bloodshot.
Link glanced at him and said, "There's another bathroom upstairs. Clean yourself up and change clothes. I'll take care of the preparations—we need to burn this place down."
Frank nodded, not wasting any time. He headed upstairs while Link went to the kitchen. He turned on the gas and set the microwave with a few bullets from his spare magazine inside.
When Frank returned, looking slightly more presentable, Link set the microwave's timer for an hour. Both men exited through the front and back doors, got into their respective cars, and drove away.
Exactly an hour later, the microwave started, heating the bullets inside. When they exploded, the gas-filled house was torn apart by the blast.
**Boom!**
The wooden structure disintegrated in the explosion, followed by a fire that quickly engulfed the entire house. The gas still flowing from the pipes fed the flames, ensuring that nothing would be left of the house or any evidence within.
Link and Frank had long since departed. Their next target was William Rawlins, the real mastermind behind everything. Compared to him, Billy Russo had been a mere pawn.
Back at Link's place, Frank would be staying the night. After everything that had happened, he had no other place to go, and he couldn't return to his own home—not anymore.
"Are you planning on killing all of them, or just Rawlins?" Link asked, pouring Frank a drink and handing him a glass.
"Rawlins is all I want," Frank replied. "As for the others... we don't have the resources to take them down."
Link chuckled. "You're surprisingly rational. That's good. Because beyond Rawlins lies the CIA, and while they might let you get your revenge, they won't tolerate anyone messing with their business."
"The CIA needs a lot of cash for their operations overseas—they're involved in counterfeiting, drug trafficking, and who knows what else. Their profit chains are massive."
"Even S.H.I.E.L.D. struggles to take them down. They're worse than any crime syndicate. If sin had a value, they'd far surpass even someone like Wilson Fisk."
Frank smirked bitterly. "I used to think I was fighting for my country when I enlisted. But now, it seems like that's not true. Were my fallen comrades' sacrifices all in vain?"
"No," Link shook his head. "At least they were heroes in name. They gave their lives for a noble cause—on the surface, anyway."
Link didn't feel like continuing the conversation. There was no point in debating it further. It wouldn't change anything.
"Alright, I'll track down William Rawlins. In the meantime, you should look for a decent apartment nearby," Link said. "Get yourself some proper suits, too. After all, the charity foundation is my public front."
"The driver's name is Robert McCall. You know where the car is parked. Be here before 9 AM every morning."
Link then pulled out a checkbook and wrote Frank a check, handing it over. "This is to help you settle in. As for weapons, I'll get you a legal Glock 17 and a bulletproof vest."
"Thanks," Frank said, standing up. "I'll head out now."
Link didn't stop him. He saw him to the door and watched as Frank took the elevator down to the underground parking lot.
Later that night, when Jessica came home, Link told her about Frank. She had no objections. She trusted Link's judgment when it came to hiring a bodyguard for her, knowing he wouldn't make such decisions lightly.
Jessica was quick to accept Link's arrangements. She knew they were for her safety, and having a bodyguard would allow them to conceal their own powers better.
Jessica appreciated how thoughtful Link was—something her sister, Trish, was quite envious of. In fact, when Jessica had stayed with Trish recently, her sister had joked about trying to steal Link away from her.
As the evening continued, Link used his laptop to track down William Rawlins through S.H.I.E.L.D.'s systems. It didn't take long. Rawlins was already in New York, having just arrived to investigate Billy Russo's death.
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