The Punisher - Part 2 Access

Vaccaro was speaking. “…the docks in Red Hook. No heat for six weeks. You bring the product in through the old sewage outflow. My men will clear Customs.”

The rain kept falling. It didn’t wash anything clean. But Frank Castle had stopped believing in clean a long time ago.

He believed in the work.

On the 19th floor, he found the first sentry. A young man in an expensive suit, earpiece glowing blue. The kid was checking his phone, bored out of his skull. Frank’s arm locked around his neck from behind. No snap. No blood. Just a slow, silent drift into darkness. Frank laid him down next to a mop bucket. The Punisher - Part 2

“I take forty,” Vaccaro said smoothly. “And I give you something the others can’t. Invisibility. You pay for my memory. I forget every face, every name, every shipment. That’s what you’re buying.”

Vaccaro stood frozen, his silk tie fluttering in the wet wind. The steel briefcase lay open at his feet—bundles of cash and a flash drive.

The lead Russian—a scarred ox named Volkov—laughed. “And what do you take, portnoy ? Fifty percent? For paper and promises?” Vaccaro was speaking

He fired once. Vaccaro’s body jerked backward, over the parapet, and fell without a sound into the rain.

Frank stepped out of the shadows.

And the work was never done.

Vaccaro’s eyes darted left and right. No escape.

“Castle,” Vaccaro whispered. His voice was high, reedy. “We can make a deal. I have files. Names. Everyone I’ve ever worked for. Judges. Cops. Senators. You want justice? I’ll give you the whole rotten system on a platter.”