New Fanfiction

I am in a writing class and the "key to getting rid of writer's block is to write", apparently the key to not drowning is creating air but I digress. I have been writing school crap for a few days when a few ideas pieced themselves together for a short story. Not Marvel 616 and probably closer to MAX but here is my alternate take on a Marvel Villain.

Claps from combat boots were unsettling inside the marbled floored office building. People moved out of the way of the gigantic man with his void black hair and barrel chest as he pushed through the crowd treating them with irrelevance. Frank Castle moved out of his way along with the heavy set women in front of them as the man passed by him heading in the same direction to the elevators. He did not need to look at Gregory Walton as he passed. Gregory Walton was a 36 year old ex bodybuilder with no formal military or police training who was little more than a Christmas Tiger for the security force inside of the Cadre Building A. Located in Trenton New Jersey he had come across several shipments and records kept that said that there was a substantial amount of money being laundered through here as well as some next gen weaponry that had found a way in to the hands of criminals before it did the police. This was of all of course coming from what was classified in the business license as a “Novelties” firm. Someone who imported and exported all of the cheap gag gifts manufactured in Mexico and China to the US to fill truck stops and spinning racks in grocery stores.

Castle had been set on the lead by a punk pulling a FN SCAR on him several months ago. The rifle had not been available for sale to anyone yet and if Castle did not have the means to acquire the rifle then no one else logically should have. However there had been one prevailing catch throughout the usage of these weapons they would completely lock up after a short amount of time. After finding a few unfired rifles Castle found that it was in 90 rounds, or three magazines through the rifle. The bolt carriers would damn near forge themselves solid in to the receiver and the rifle was useless. Not that it had ever been effective shoddy work on the crowning of the barrels sent bullets nearly a foot high in every case. Someone was running a fixed game.

Keeping his eyes down Castle knew he was over doing the meek routine. Greg Walton barely noticed anything other than his reflection off of the elevators down the hall and Castle knew that a substantial kick to either of the man’s knees or shins would put him down for good. Moving the weight of the briefcase in his hand he knew he always had the option of smashing that in to his throat but he doubt it came to that as the man’s only criminal conviction came from steroids as well as punching a transvestite in Atlantic City when he was seventeen. For Walton this was a paycheck and that was all.

Castle took the elevator standing near the back and faking a blank and occupied look to those that bothered to look at him. The suit was navy and bland but not so cheap that it looked like an outright disguise or drew snobbish attention. There was a faux slight potbelly in the front of it that if not for the presence of metal detectors at all doors would have held a full size pistol and a spare magazine nicely. Now there was simply just a fiberglass spike.

The six story building housed a large opulent lobby on the first floor. The desk jockeys all rushed out on the second which rid Castle of the large woman he had followed in, third floor was human resources, fourth floor was meeting rooms the photos on the internet showed nothing but extravagance there as well. At the fourth floor Castle stared blankly forward as Walton stepped in the elevator.

“Hey pal last floor for the peasants.” Walton said. His voice carried apathy. Castle snapped his gaze to him and feigned a sheepish shrug and mumbled as Walton stuck the key in to the slot before Castle had stepped out of the elevator. Then the Briefcase was swung to his temple and Walton fell to the ground shielding his face with one gigantic arm. Castle shoved the arm down and with all of his body weight pinned it against Walton’s throat. He saw the man struggle for the pistol that Castle relieved him of but after the first few seconds with the joint contorted it was pushed out of place and Walton’s own masses was what helped Castle knock him out. Castle thought of Lou Ferrigno and how he doubted that would have worked on him.

Castle let the door closed turned the key and it proceeded up once more. He had pulled the suit off revealing The Kevlar weave jumpsuit beneath it. Pulling his combat boots from the briefcase he was ready before the door opened. Stepping out he saw as he had assumed that the blue prints for this level were completely off. Heavy columns iron and marble columns surrounded the area along with light red tinted glass giving the room a pink hue.

The marble and iron and the avant-grad trappings of the room where not particularly odd for an individual making their way up the criminal ladder but the furnishings were. Bean bag chairs and pin ball machines were scattered throughout the space dotted by the ever so often carnival game.

“Hello there Frank Castle!” a voice called from speakers attached to each column, the sheer volume was painful even to Castle’s already damaged ears. “It took you long enough; I’ve been sending hints your way for nearly a year.” The voice laughed lightly. The man was middle aged, forcing himself to sound juvenile with results that bordered on sickening. “I’m not here by the way and unless you managed to sneak a gun in beside the one you pulled off of Greg then you could not have shot me any way.” The voice laughed. There was a pause as the other step of Castle’s plan engaged. A timed shaped charge of semtex on the power conduits in the sewer below the building killed the power. As the backup power kicked on there was a laugh over the speakers that was at a tolerable volume now.

“It seems I am not the only one running a fixed game.” The voice laughed. Castle said nothing as he set his briefcase down in the center of the building. The fire alarms below were audible.

“So is this the plan Castle?” The voice screamed negating the lowering volume on the speakers.

Castle said nothing and walked back to the still open elevator as that was the only way out of the building.

“I’ll kill you!” the voice over the speakers screamed. Back at the personal computer set up in a location far away the speaker screamed until he ran out of breath and sat wheezing looking at the screen as he brushed away his long stringy red hair and pouted.

“Nobody plays Arcade.” The man whined as he stormed away from his terminal and across his disheveled mansion. Minutes later television stations were reporting that a building in Trenton New Jersey had been evacuated and a shaped charge had completely shattered the glass ceiling.

***
Three Days later Arcade pushed his rolling chair away from his latest pursuit when there was a knock at his door. Rushing to the door with a ridiculously over equipped submachine gun he saw a gag knocker designed to knock on doors attached to the top of the door frame. Reaching up his stomach was exposed when a round was fired and a shotgun slug tore through the soft flesh of his stomach. Castle calmly walked up the long stairs as he could hear the man chanting his mantra.

“Nobody plays Arcade…nobody plays Arcade….”

“After the power was cut there was only one computer running off of the generator running of all programs skype back to the only computer on this IP address.” A dozen photos slapped him as Castle took the sub machine gun from the ground with a brief scoff at the number of gadgets tacked to it.

“Crime scene photos from people killed in cross fires by the bangers you sold the guns to, never killed one cop but the misdirected fire killed almost two dozen innocent men women and children in their homes. It never took me too long to find you. I found every crate of guns and crushed them.”

Arcade writhed at Castle’s feet and he pulled the gag knocker from the door frame.

“Nobod…no…no..no”

“Shut up” Castle sneered as he fired another shotgun slug in to Arcade’s chest at point blank range and walked back towards the van.