Frank nodded. “I know. You stitched the deal that let them walk. You took their money and hid their tracks. You’re not a killer, Vaccaro. You’re worse. You’re the thread.”
Frank ascended the service stairwell in full gear: the skull stark white against matte black body armor. His boots made no sound on the concrete. He carried a suppressed Mk 14 EBR—precision, not spray-and-pray. Tonight was surgical. The Punisher - Part 2
It took four seconds. Five men down. Four dead. One dying. Frank nodded
The rain over Hell’s Kitchen had not stopped for three days. It fell in grimy sheets, washing nothing clean. The Punisher - Part 2
He believed in the work.