The Punisher watched the nondescript pawnshop from when the sun was up in the middle of the sky to when the sun went down, even until it was total blackout and it was quarter hours to midnight.
He already had the outside layout of the building seared into his mind. The supplier, Isaac, will not be escaping today. He had put an end to two other newly formed gangs that got their supplies from the man in the last two nights.
The fact that all four of the bastards pointed to the same person made him almost certain that the information was golden. He wouldn't be certain until he confirmed it himself.
He had watched kids, elderly and even suspicious people enter and leave his store throughout the day and all it did was make him all the more angry and eager to put an end to this piece of living filth.
Just like every criminal around the globe, he just couldn't be content with his honest trade and let his greed consume him. Well today something else will consume him.
He waited patiently, curiosity almost making him tail the suspiciously dressed group that just left the pawnshop but he decided against it. He would interrogate the pawnbroker about who they were and also his list of clientele.
He looked at the time, a few minutes past 10, and no one had gone in or come out of the shop in the last 10 minutes. It was time.
He finished his fries and crossed the streets by melding into the crowd of people around him. Another good thing was that there were no security cameras in this area.
His overcoat provided the needed coverage for the guns and knives strapped to different parts of his body, even the shotgun that was resting vertically against his spine.
The stores around the shop and even the ones further down the street were already locked down for the day which was another safety net. Even if the police were notified, it would take them no less than 10 minutes to arrive. 10 long minutes for him to retire as a long lost ghost.
He pushed the door slightly, well aware of the bell behind it, and grabbed the bell above him before quietly entering the shop. The door closed softly behind him while his hands tucked under his coat and pulled out his pistols.
He looked around the corners and confirmed what he suspected: that there were no cameras.
He turned around a corner, both hands held forward, and once again he registered no cameras as he stalked closer to the counter.
"… surely not." He could hear the voice of a man, probably Isaac, as he walked towards the last bend. "Don't tell me–"
He whipped around the corner that put him face to face with Isaac who was looking his way with a look of disbelief.
"— that I'll have to start hanging up the sign. Can you please not?"
"Isaac…"
"Sir, I'll ask you to kindly put the gun away for your sake." The pawnbroker said with chiding disbelief.
"For my sake, huh? How funny." The chuckle that followed was a dark one. "You reach under that counter and I'll put two holes in your shoulders." He said as he stormed towards the man who still thought he was safe.
Isaac put down the book he was reading on the counter while his other hand dropped to his side and cocked a deadpan brow as two clicks sounded off.
Frank's eyes twitched but experience held him as he pulled back the gun and cocked them against each other, the weight telling him that, yes, they were fully loaded. He pulled the trigger again, eyes slightly widening, as he felt the gun jam.
In a brief second, before Isaac could make any move, he holstered the guns to his waistline and pulled out the ones on his shoulder straps. He aimed them at the head and let them bang… but bang they did not.
"Okay stop." The man finally said, putting a pause to Frank's motion that was about to uproot his shotgun from his back.
"Just for the façade of civility, I'll ask: what's this about?"
Frank resumed his motion and in one swift movement, he was pointing the barrel of his shotgun at Isaac.
"The guns you've been selling. Who's moving them? Give me their name." Guns of those make that looked like the parts just came out of the factory was not just a simple black market deal. This was more than just arming petty gangs in the neighborhood. This was the work of a crime ring, the cartel, the mafia, hell maybe even the triad. This was huge and this man, Isaac, was one of the retailers.
All these were signs that pointed at a war coming to the Underworld and he needed to know who were the ones pushing it.
Isaac on the other hand looked less than impressed. "If you're asking whether I sell guns, then yeah, they are among the many things I sell. My customers, I don't know most of them, and even if I did I wouldn't be telling you. I'm a Merchant, not an Infobroker. As for my wares, I'm not telling you that. Trade secret."
Frank seethed and cocked the gun. The only reason he hadn't blown out the man's brains was because he had no idea how he was jamming his guns.
"I would like to tell you that no manner of violence is permitted in this place. Your guns won't work, no matter what you do." Isaac said, not really feeling polite towards this extremely rude customer. Even Callisto did not behave this rudely. "With that out of the way, I'll go ahead and ask while I'm still contemplating a full ban and a memory wipe; do you want to buy something?"
"What the hell is this place?" Frank asked. He was as fearless as any man on their deathroad and just as cautious. He could already tell that something weird was going on.
"Junk 'N Stuff. We sell all kinds of junk and stuff and everything in between."
"You sell guns to anyone that walks through that door?" Frank asked sarcastically with a derisive snort.
Isaac nodded with a drag as if it couldn't be anymore obvious. "If that is what they want then that is what I'll sell them."
"…What?" He couldn't believe his ears. He laughed. It sounded raw and also like broken glass scraping against each other. "it's all about the money for you, isn't it?"
Isaac blinked, looking genuinely confused at the question. He gestured to the store with his hand spread apart. "I run a business. While it is my passion, it's also about selling as much as I can. So yes, in a way, it's still about the money."
The Punisher started seeing red at the edge of his vision as he held himself back and gritted his teeth. "And you don't care about the lives they ruin with it, don't ya?"
He decided in his mind that he was torture this man until he started begging for death, and even then he'll make it slow.
"I generally make it a rule not to inquire about the reason for my customer's purchase. The moral dilemma rises with what they do with it, not with me. I doubt who you bought those guns from asked what you wanted to do with it."
"I use it to put sick psychos where they are supposed to be – the ground."
"You don't see me blaming who sold you those guns for your rude behavior, do you?" Isaac looked pleased at the rhetoric. "Now, if you're not here to buy anything then I'll have to ask you to leave. And trust me, you wouldn't want me to make you leave."
"The names. I won't ask again."
Iaaac groaned loudly and slumped his shoulders to show just how fed up he was with all of this. "With all due respect, fuck off, man."
Click. Crack. Click.
He deadpanned at Frank who tried to shoot, failed, cocked the gun and tried again, only to fail again. Finally having enough of this, Frank fished his combat knife and rushed at Isaac who just continued staring at him with growing disbelief.
Isaac finally had enough as he saw Frank trying to jump at him over the counter and decided to put a stop to it.
"What is this?" Frank asked, shock and utter disbelief coating his words as he was frozen midair.
Isaac ignored him as he thought of what to do with his overly rude customer. There was at least one of these types everywhere he set down shop. They were practically a constant to the Trade.
A simple ejection or ban will have him come back and start harassing his customers. There was a harsher verdict should that ever happen but Isaac preferred to completely prevent such a scenario. A mindwipe would save a lot of stress and he wasn't such a slouch that he would leave holes in the memories. These were on the tamer end and going further would… well he didn't see a need.
Frank looked at Isaac with his growing panic. "What are you? Some kind of mutant?"
"Not a mutant, unfortunately."
"What are you doing?"
"Deciding what to do to you." Isaac said plainly. "Well mindwipe it is. I don't really care about your soul."
"Wait!" this was a situation the Punisher has rarely ever found himself in. "Why not just kill me, huh? I might find out about this place again."
Isaac looked at him with raised brows. "Are you that eager to die? If you are then do it elsewhere. As for why, well it's obviously because you kept being violent when I explicitly told you not to."
That made Frank pause. "You're going to erase my memories because I kept attacking, and not because I found out about your operations?"
"Why would I do that because you found out about my shop?" it was said in a way that suggested it was an obviously stupid thing to ask. "Like I said, this is a business. Why would I be upset if someone found my shop?"
Frank's mind raced. The threat of his memories being erased put a genuine fear in his heart that he never expected it to. He couldn't risk anything happening to his memories. He couldn't risk forgetting them. And that fear became real when he saw the harmless-looking shopkeeper's eyes glow and started feeling dizzy.
He grasped at anything he could to stop whatever it is that was about to happen.
"Wait, wait. You said this is a business, right? You don't have a problem with who buys from you, right?" He knew he was sounding desperate but he just couldn't risk anything happening to his memories. It was the only thing he still had.
Isaac paused but still looked impatient. "Yes. I said the same thing a few minutes ago."
"Then I'll buy. As long as you don't touch my head I'll buy from you and I won't tell anyone." Frank was a prideful man. He was rigid and set in his ways and would wholeheartedly prefer death to changing his ways – he knew that. But every man had his weakness. And an oblivious shopkeeper just grabbed his.
His hope cracked when he saw the frown that grew on Isaac's face. "What do you mean you won't tell others? What part of running a business don't you understand? How am I supposed to increase my sales if you don't tell your friends?"
"Huh?"
"Huh what?" Isaac's irritation grew. "Listen man, are you buying or not?"
Frank looked surprised and relieved at the question but he didn't let the question pass safely before he replied. "I'll buy."
Isaac stared at him for a few seconds, wondering if it would be better in the long run to just yeeted him out and be done with it, but he ultimately sighed at the end as there were sales to be made.
"Fine." He said. "But try this again one more time and I'll erase the whole file."
Frank nodded as he was let down slowly. His back was drenched in sweat as if he just escaped the executioner's block.
He slid his gun to his back and looked at Isaac with a new sense of caution. He was always a stubborn man, so he decided to risk it seconds after being cut off the noose.
"Just gotta ask first," he looked at Isaac who reluctantly gestured for him to continue. "Are you affiliated with any gangs or crime families? Just a yes or no."
Isaac looked at the ceiling, existentially fed up with everything at this point. "No. No. Just no. No gang or cartel or anything." He sounded as if he was physically forcing out the words from his mouth. "Now, what the fuck do you want?"
"Guns." Frank replied with zero hesitation. That admission was enough. He'll find out later just how truthful it was.
"What type?"
Frank hesitated for a moment before a ghost of a smile, a very dark one, wormed its way into his face.
"Surprise me."
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