Author's Chapter Notes:
Another Marvel character makes a brief appearance in this one. All rights to Punisher/Frank Castle belong to their respectful owners, I'm merely borrowing him.
Loudspeakers were blessedly silent, but she’d preferred their nonsensical adverts instead of blaring horns and flashing lights that colored the night crimson and blue. Outbreak. Or more accurately, inbreak. And the perpetrator lay on her couch, barely breathing and trying to struggle out from heavy issue bulletproof vest with Logan’s aid.

“You cracked few ribs, Frankie-boy.”
“You got any tape?”
“Yeah… Kid, it’s under the cupboard, could you bring it to me?” Logan asked. She retrieved the silvery roll of Duck tape and a pair of scissors, then sat to the foot end of the couch and watched as Logan cut off the shirt from the man.

The man seemed to be in his late fifties, yet in good condition. Not overly muscular, but big, and his physique more than hinted that he wasn’t a complete pushover. His skin was marred with old crisscrossing scars and bright white and red patches that looked suspiciously like old bullet wounds. Currently his whole front side was gaining rapidly a dark red, crimson and violet hue.

“Raise your arms, Frank.”

Frank complied. His facial expression, calm and collected, albeit a bit dark, remained unchanged trough the painful procedure of Logan wrapping up his broken ribs. When it was over he lay back on to the couch and closed his eyes.

“I need only few minutes, Wolverine. I’ll be out of your hair in no time,” he grunted with a raspy voice.
“Take your time, Frank. This is the last place they’ll be looking for you. The kid is nobody important.”

Soon the man that Logan had called Frank fell to a sleep. She picked through his belongings, folding his discarded clothes to a neat little pile and arranging his weapons so that he could easily reach them from where he laid. Logan stood by the stove, examining the vest.

“It’s ruined. Plates are cracked,” he huffed, dangling the vest in front of him. It was riddled with holes and tears of all shapes and sizes. She turned to look at the man sleeping on the couch.
“What’s his mutation?” She asked. Logan shrugged his shoulders.
“Does stubbornness count as one?” He then asked discarding the broken vest to trash bin.
“He’s… He’s not a mutant?” She asked. Logan shook his head.
“I met him few decades ago. His name is Frank Castle. We were in a same unit back in Nam. As for what the hell is he now… I have no fucking clue of.”
“Why… How… How the hell did he get in here? And why?” She asked perplexed. Again Logan shrugged.
“When I found him he claimed that he had climbed over the wall. Told me that he’d followed a mobster called Jigsaw. He was going to kill the bastard, but then the wall sentries found him. I have no idea how they didn’t pick him up as soon as he touched the wall, but then again, Frank was a resourceful guy even back in Nam…”

Frank Castle came over the wall. He came from the outer world, and all Logan could say was that he was a resourceful guy?
“What about… Is he going to go back?” She asked. Logan shrugged his shoulders. He seemed to do that a lot lately.
“Probably. It’s not like he can stay here. Sooner or later he’d get caught.”
“If he’s going back, maybe we could…” She started, but Logan shushed her.
“We can’t follow him. He has to go back the same way he came in. He’ll get shot again, and I can only assume that there’s somebody waiting for him when that happens and helps him back to safety. We don’t have that luxury. If you get shot, you’re as good as dead.”
“What about Jigsaw?” She asked.
“What about Jigsaw?” Logan spat the question back at her.
“He came from the outside, too. Looks like there are all kinds of people crossing the wall every now and then out of whim! Why the hell do I have to stay cooped up in here when they can come and go as they please?”

“You wouldn’t like it out there, miss. Not a one bit, I can guarantee that…” She twirled around to face Frank who had woken up and who was now slowly getting dressed. It seemed to be painful and tedious task, but finally he managed to slip on the scraps that were still left of his black shirt.

“And what makes you think that I wouldn’t like the outside world?” She asked. Frank glanced at Logan briefly, then turned to look at her again with a sincere look on his face.
“Curiosity killed the cat, miss. Just take my word on it. Outside of those walls… It’s not a good place for you,” he grunted, then stood up and started collecting his arsenal from the small table.
“Hell… It’s not a good place to anybody…” He finally huffed as an afterthought, walked to the window, opened it and disappeared in to the night.
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