capeandcowllogs | (no subject)

Entry tags:

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WHO: Open
WHERE: Central Park
WHEN: Afternoon, Monday 13 June
WARNINGS: None
SUMMARY: Frank engages in an old ritual.
FORMAT: Para

The park was similar enough to the one in his world that he was able to find the field where it had happened, the Shepard's Meadow. It looked almost exactly the same. There was even a tree in the same location, different species though. Sitting down under the tree, Frank laid down a blanket and pulled out a picnic lunch along with a yellow kite which he stared at intently while he ate. Wearing normal clothes instead of his usual attire he appeared to all the world like an ordinary middle aged man, reliving memories of a better time and they'd be right. Finished with his lunch Frank picked up the kite and held it, closing his eyes and letting his memories drift back to that day so long ago. Maria, the children, they'd all been so happy.

Then they were nothing.

Standing up he unwound the kite's line and ran just long enough to get it to catch the breeze. Letting out more of the line Frank let the kite gain height until he was satisfied with it. Holding onto the kite Frank's mind began to drift again, seemingly unaware of anyone, or anything around him.

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She's on her way to work after lunch. She's still not working full time, even though classes were over and she technically could. She reasons that her therapist would like it better that way so instead she went to the library this morning, ignoring the looks of the librarians as she wandered the rows that contained books on virology, epidemic research and molecular biology. Reading the text of those volumes was almost like monitoring the labs back at Umbrella Corp.

If she were willing to admit the emotion, she would call it nostalgia.

But the kite gets her attention. Partially because of the bright yellow color against the blue sky, and partially because it seems to be the only one there. Following the string back, she blinks when she recognizes the man holding the end.

And she stares.

Frank continues to fly his kite, doing his best to ignore the feeling of being watched. Finally he can't stand it anymore and he glances over to see who is staring at him, fully prepared to glare at them until they moved on. Seeing that it's the Red Queen however his expression softens. Gently, he nods his head, gesturing for her to come over.

She approaches, hands on the straps of her sensible backpack, making little noise in her sensible sandals. When she's close enough to speak, she asks, "Might I as what you are doing?"

His first instinct was to reply with the obvious, that he was flying a kite, but he didn't feel the Red Queen deserved that kind of answer. Looking down at her for a moment he finally responds. "Remembering my family. We used to come to this park in my world, to this field."

She doesn't reply immediately, human grieving is still largely a mystery to her and she doesn't want to say the wrong thing, but there's something in his expression that makes her... sad. And she doesn't know why.

"Do you... enjoy this?"

Frank stares up at the kite thinking. It wasn't as easy of an answer as it might seem. "I don't know anymore. I'm not sure I ever did. It's just something I need to do sometimes."

"Like a virus scan? Or a hard drive defragmentation? Something to repair your emotional state?"

She's downloaded enough psychology texts, trying to understand what her doctors say about her, that she thinks she understands the concept and is applying it correctly. He mourns his family, and needs to set that aside. This is his method.

Frank frowns, but then nods. The girl was a lot sharper than people realized even himself. "Something like that."

Then and he wasn't sure why he decided to tell her more. "This is what we did the day they died."

She frowns a bit at that. It changes the diagnosis she's forming in her head, the checklists she's going through. From a knowledge perspective, she was more equipped to diagnose than most of her so-called expert therapists, although even she admitted that she lacked experience. Even so...

"I do not believe that is a healthy behavior. My therapist says it is harmful to repeat the things that remind you of tragedy."

It is why she's been forbidden to work with robotics.

"Probably, but what I do everyday isn't considered healthy either." His life is screwed up, he knows that. It's been that way ever since that day and since there was no way it was ever going to change what was, or wasn't healthy was kind of a mute point.

"You have a point."

She watches him for another moment, head tilting to watch the motion of the kite. The physics were simple, but the reality was quite elegant.

"Is that easy?" She points upwards.

"Usually, as long as the wind cooperates." Reeling in the kite a little Frank holds out the end of the line for her. "Here."

She tentatively takes the string into her hands, surprised at the sudden tug and pull. She almost let go, but held on at the last minute.

"Does it always pull like this?"

Frank almost lunges forward to help her, but stops himself at the last minute. He shakes his head reminding himself where he actually was. "When the wind is strong. It's part of the fun."

"Have you lost any?"

She pulled at the string, playing with the length and letting it soar across the sky. With a gentle tug, she sent it from one side from the other, learning how to control the kite.

"Once, a long time ago." He'd regretted it ever since.

Still, even with those terrible memories looming in the back of his mind he couldn't stop smiling just a little as he watched her fly the kite. "Looks like you got the hang of it."

"It is simple physics and mathematics." She continues weaving it back and forth through the air, enjoying the feel of the object pulling in her hands. It's calming, she can understand why people enjoy it.

"Is today the anniversary of your family's death?"

Her question quickly wiped the smile from Frank's face. "No, but it's close enough. Never visited here, or the graves on that day anyway. There was always some idiot laying in wait hoping to catch me off guard."

"It is a sound strategy, given most human's sentimentality."

Which reminded her. "I will eventually have to report your presence here."

"It's also obvious and an obvious ambush is easy to turn against the enemy."

Frank smirked a little again, grateful she hadn't reported him yet. "I know. I'll be gone by the time anyone responds."

"Which is precisely why I haven't made any calls as yet."

She watches the kite with a slight smile on her face. It's easier after the monster incident, oddly enough. Things can amuse her instead of her feigning amusement to fit in.

"You should do this more often."

Frank raises an eyebrow. "I thought your therapist said things like this weren't healthy?"

"Flying a kite is a 'human' activity. Despite the fact that I'm also using the data to compare it with recent weather patterns and against a variety of weather reporting agencies in the City."

She pauses, tilting her head. "They have an approximate accuracy rating of 87.451%"

Well, know he knew who to call for accurate weather predictions. "Keep the kite. I have to get rid of it anyway, better someone gets some use out of it."

"Perhaps we can fly it together another time." She begins to reel the kite in, sending a brief message to the police switchboard.

"I have to go to work now, a message has been sent to the police switchboard. It will take officers approximately seven minutes to arrive, based on their current locations. Less if there are mounted officers in the park I am unaware of."

"Maybe," Frank said as he nodded slowly and turned to go. "I'll be out of here in three minutes. You stay safe and tell Bauer to not keep you too cooped up."

Peter normally goes webswinging over his lunch break, only stopping for a quick bite between stretches of patrol. Sometimes he eats during patrol, resulting over the years in more than one pedestrian finding lettuce in their hair after he passes overhead. Today he's in the mood to take it easy, though, so he's strolling through the park, his coffee thermos freshly filled and two sandwiches in a paper bag.

He's just settled himself against a railing and unwrapped his first bánh mì when he notices the weirdo on the grass. Okay, so it's pretty good weather to fly a kite. But a grown man -- a big, burly, tough-looking guy at that, not that Peter likes to judge a book by its cover -- on his own, no kid in sight? It's not even one of those fancy stunt kites that can do tricks, so he's not a hobbyist.

Peter shrugs to himself. Probably the guy's kid (or kids) has (or have) gone off to buy pretzels or something, and he's keeping it in the air for them. A dad being a dad. It's sweet.

He's washing down his first bite of sandwich when the man turns just enough to give Peter a good look at his profile. Recognition hits and Peter narrowly avoids a lungful of coffee, coughing and sputtering loud enough to wake the dead.

[[OOC: Frank and Peter have met at least once in canon, right? Feel free to run with that, idk how good Frank's memory for not-quite-random civilians is.]]

Frank turns and looks over his shoulder when he hears the coughing. His eyes narrow briefly at the young man. There was something familiar about him, but Frank couldn't quite place it. Whoever the kid was there had to be a reason Frank remember him at all. Taking a gamble he started to walk his kite over to the railing waiting to see how the young man reacted.

[OOC: You know I don't know for sure. I think they might have though when Peter was photographing something for the paper. Actually I'd be surprised if they hadn't as I'm sure Frank has conned his way into more than one event with a press pass before.]

Peter looks up from dabbing away the coffee droplets on his shirt to see Castle walking towards him. He quickly schools his features into his best "nobody here but us hapless civilians" expression, hoping against hope the other man attributes any dismay in his expression to Peter's spilled drink rather than his own approach. Still, there's a reason Peter wears his mask to Ben Grimm's poker night even when everyone present knows his identity, and it's not to hide his acne. (Well. Except for that one time.)

[[OOC: Okay, I just spent some time browsing teh intarwebs and reading back issues ... Peter and Frank met in Amazing Spider-Man 201-202 when Frank suspected Peter of being part of a gang (obviously Peter convinced him otherwise, by telling him he was Spider-Man's photographer). Then in Spectacular Spider-Man 141 Peter came into some evidence of a murder that Frank wanted, and though they didn't talk directly Frank knew to go to Spider-Man. This was in the late 80s, so maybe they've met since then ...? /shrug So if you want Frank can remember him, but if you don't think he would that's cool! Also I have the .cbr files if you want.

LOL this note = officially longer than the tag.]]

Now Frank remembered where he had seen him before. He was Parker, Spider-Man's photographer. Interesting that the porter would bring him here too. Still, no reason to tip his hand yet. The kid might have just genuinely had too hot of a cup of coffee. "You alright?"

[OOC: Thank you for looking all of that up and yes I think Frank would remember him. If nothing else he'd always think of Parker as an easy way to get in touch with Spider-Man.]

"Um. Yes," Peter said, brushing ostentatiously at his (dark blue, thankfully) shirt. "Just went down the wrong way, is all."

He squirmed a little, unsure whether Castle had come over just to intervene before a random stranger choked to death on his lunch break or if he had actually recognized him, God forbid. True, it'd been years since the Punisher had "met" Peter Parker, Spider-Man's unofficial official shutterbug and one-time gang suspect, but it wasn't as though they'd had a nice conversation about the New York Philharmonic over a cup of tea. The experience had been ... memorable on Peter's side, to say the least -- the question was whether it had stuck in Castle's mind as well.

"Sure it wasn't because you were surprised to see me, Parker?" There wasn't any reason to play it subtle. Better he come right out and intimidate the kid so he didn't get any ideas about calling the cops on him.

Oh, well. It'd been worth a try, anyway.

"I'll ... grant that might've been a contributing factor," Peter said, wincing. "I didn't realize you'd recognize me," he added, with not entirely put on resentment. "I'm sure holding me at gunpoint was all in a day's work for you."

If he were being honest, holding Peter Parker at gunpoint was the least of the stunts Punisher'd pulled on Spidey over the years, but Castle didn't know that.

Edited 2011-06-21 01:36 (UTC)

"Wasn't planning on it. Not unless you make me." To further the implied threat Frank sat down next to Peter. "Everyone has to eat lunch Parker. I just want to eat mine and leave quietly no trouble, no cops. Got it?"

"Wasn't planning on it," Peter echoed faintly, edging backwards. "What would I say, anyway? 'Gee, Officer, this guy who looks exactly like a serial killer from my home universe was standing around in Central Park. What was he doing, you ask? Oh, flying a kite. It was very menacing.' I'd probably get fined for wasting police man-minutes."

A beat, while Peter considered that he'd just called the Punisher a serial killer to his face, while out of costume.

"Uh ... I didn't mean 'serial killer' in a mean way," he offered.

It didn't phase Frank. He knew what he was. Had known for a long time, long before he lost his family. Maybe even before he'd joined the Marines and had gone to Vietnam. Still, he had to correct the boy on one thing. "I don't kill for pleasure. I'm fighting a war and their the enemy. That's all it is."

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/creeeeeeps in if it's not too late

It's never too late

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