17812/It Happened One Night in Gotham

It Happened One Night in Gotham
Date of Scene:	01 May 2024
Location:	Dixon Docks - Chinatown
Synopsis:	Frank and Gwen take down the Golino family, albeit for different reasons. Frank demands a morning meet up later, Gwen agrees, but only if he's paying.
Cast of Characters:	Frank Castle, Gwendolyn Poole

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Frank Castle has posed:
The Golino crime family out of Gotham City is a small family. They are neither exceptionally powerful, nor impressively prosperous. As far as crime families go they are fairly low on the hierarchy of Gotham's underworld. They dabble largely in smuggling and stolen goods, but there's always the rumor of murders and racketeering that hang over the heads of any of Gotham's crime families. Whether big or small. Solomon Golino is the eldest son of the family's now-deceased Rinaldo Golino who had ran the family and its operations for an impression decade before dying under mysterious, if suspicious, circumstances.

The Dixon Docks of Gotham City are a place that time seems to have forgotten. At night, much like tonight, the place is seemingly perpetually blanketed by wisps of fog and the bright glow of lights that radiates upon that lingering fog. At two hours passed midnight, the docks are all but deserted save for by those with more nefarious or illicit endeavors in mind. In the building with the fading, white painted BAY D is where the Golino family has recently received a shipment. Six medium sized crates were received less than an hour ago and the Golino's have already cracked them open. Their contents: weapons, military grade.

The interior of the building is thick with the family's soldiers and even Solomon Golino himself is in attendance, giving directions to the handling of the recently arrived shipment. For the Golino's, those crates a bright future. The ability to strike out as those who have opposed them in the past and take back what they've lost after the last few years. Outside of each of the loading docks a pair of Golino men can be found, acting as sentries for the matters being handled inside.

It's from the southeast that the loaded cargo van roars up the narrow avenues between warehouse buildings. It only takes a moment for the vehicle to breach the exterior wall of the building, crashing into what was once a corner office space with its horn blaring and filling the immediate area with sound well after the sound of the van penetrating and crashing through the exterior wall of the warehouse fades. This of course draws a few men to the now ruined office, their own weapons drawn and aimed toward the van as they begin to van out with the intent of covering the van's cab while one of their number moves toward the driver's side door. Even from outside they can see that the van's cab appears to be empty, but caution demands that they inspect the interior regardless.

It is only when the driver's side door opens that a figure dressed in black with the white skull emblazoned upon his torso steps around the corner from outside. Through the dust and debris he moves, keeping his head down and the shotgun that he carries pressed snugly in against his shoulder.

BOOM!

BOOM!

BOOM!

The shotgun roars out! Each powerful roar resulting in the loss of life as The Punisher, Frank Castle, moves quickly and precisely through the ruined offer. The shotgun that he carries spits death and the panicked return fire strikes all around the poorly lit, dust-filled room.

BOOM!

Another drops in the span of a few seconds. All throughout the warehouse shouts of alarm can be heard, along with men pulling their own weapons and even some from among those nestled in crates. Fortunately for Frank: it'll take them a moment to load those heavy weapons.

Gwendolyn Poole has posed:
It's comic book law #213, all warehouses have to have windows that open to the outside built up high near the ceiling. And most of the time those windows have to be near catwalks or rafters. In Gotham, that probability jumps to 100, though nobody will ever quite know why. Well. Almost nobody.

Gwen sits on the edge of one such window, legs swinging idly as she pieces together a small device that has a comically long cord running around the outside of the building and down to the plastic explosives smiley face attached to the exterior of the fusebox that controls the power for the warehouse. She's humming to herself as she twists wires together, attaching the explosives to the detonator.

The sound of the truck barrelling towards the warehouse has her glancing up, eyelenses widening in surprise, "Well, shit. He's early." She looks straight ahead and gives a comical sigh, "And tonight had been going so well, too!" There's a brief reminiscence flashback about the fun day she'd had stealing plastic explosives from another criminal organization before cutting to Gwenpool and Jeff frolicking through a field with chilidogs and soda, then a quick cut back to thirty seconds ago when she was humming to herself and wiring the explosives.

The warehouse shakes as the truck crashes into it, sending Gwen tumbling, though she catches herself with one hand to dangle out of the window. Giving another look out into the middle distance, Gwenpool flashes a bright grin and holds up the other hand with the detonator, "Time to bring the party to them!"

Click.

...

.....

........ BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

The amount of explosives used was egregious, because of course it was, and the warehouse is shaken to its foundations before being thrown into pitch darkness, highlighted here and there only by a few small fires scattered around the hole where the fusebox used to be.. and the flash of gunfire coming from Frank himself.

Using what's left of the cord as an impromptu whip, Gwen lashes it around the nearest rafter and hauls herself through the window to swandive into the darkness.

The rattle of an uzi can be heard soon after, along with the flash of muzzlefire from the end of it as she swings through the air, spraying the would-be mobsters with a hail of lead. That pink and white costume a beacon in the darkness as she hits the ground and immediately starts tumbling and flipping between bouts of gunfire!

Frank Castle has posed:
The loud boom erupts and in turn shakes the warehouse violently. Where some may pause or suddenly hunker down at such a noise; Frank Castle has tread more battlefields than most in actual theaters of war. Never mind the war that The Punisher has waged these last few wars. Not a war of nations; but his war. The building may shudder with the threat of collapsing, but Frank doesn't pause. He advances swiftly and tactically, the shotgun again spitting and roaring its deathcry. The last of those who came to investigate the the van crashing through the office space's exterior wall and coming to a halt within the office itself.

The shotgun is slung to his back and Frank stoops. A pair of pistols are collected from a pair of the fallen Golino footsoldiers. He blinks against the darkness rapidly, urging his eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness that accompanies the building's violent shaking. He, of course, knows that it isn't the result of his own actions. It's a matter that'll be dealt with when confronted or discovered.

The doorway into the office is obviously a killzone, which means that he needs to move quickly before the rest of those within the warehouse can truly ready themselves. The sound of additional gunfire from deeper within the warehouse's floorplan is suspicious, but is just as likely panic fire but ill-trained Golino henchmen.

He surges quickly forward and through the doorway. Unseen, but heard. The sound of his weight scraping across the cement floor as he slides one step out of the doorway. The slide ends behind a row of stored boxes and crates; which grants him concealment in the darkness, if not any sort of tangible cover. Though it may depend upon what is stored within those boxes and crates! He's not one to delay or sit idle while waiting for someone to wander around a corner, just to put a bullet in him while he's assessing the situation. One of the pistols is quietly sat down between his boots. In silence he slips a flash grenade from its place upon his rig. The pin is pulled. The grenade is tossed.

The flash grenade bangs out, filling the darkened warehouse with a brief blinding flash of light. For his part Frank retrieves the pistol, while keeping his eyes tightly closed in order to prevent his own natural acclimation to the darkness from being abruptly ruined.

Startled cries beyond those of pain and anguish erupt amidst the submachine gun fire being liberally dispensed by a brightly clad figure moving nimbly through the warehouse.

From his place of concealment, Frank rises. The pistols spit seeds of wrath and vengeance. Every shot counts and The Punisher is an expert at making them worth every bit of the gunpowder spent to send them hurtling into mafioso flesh and bone.

When the pistols have been exhausted, Frank does not hesitate to take up a bit of broken wood. Which he unceremoniously, brutally, and swiftly rams into the throat of a blindly firing, stumbling Golino enforcer in the darkness. The barbaric act is only briefly witnessed by those looking in their direction as the man's gunfire lights up the area around himself just in time to see the gout of red fluid spray from his throat, before he and his killer are again cloaked in darkness.

Gwendolyn Poole has posed:
"WAUGH!" Gwen is caught by the flashbang, reeling backward with an arm thrown over her face as she stumbles back, crashing into a heavy shelving system holding boxes of goods, sending some of the boxes tumbling down to the floor around her. The lenses thankfully help to shield her eyes fromt he worst of the flare of light, but it leaves her blinking and seeing coronas of light for the next few moments.

It allows one of the goons to find her in the darkness, his back to the flash from the grenade. Stalking towards her, a large wrench in one hand, the goon is muttering under his breath about 'all these damn hero wannabes'. It could be the end of Gwenpool!!

...NAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.

Right as the man lifts the wrench high to bring it down on the costumed crazy, Gwenpool pulls a pistol from her hips holster, shooting up at the goon before rolling away and flipping up to her feet. She lets out a laugh and holsters the gun once more, "Madeja look!" Then she's off again!

Moving through the darkness, Gwen is like a murderous little Good & Plenty, tumbling and running about in a chaotic little zig-zag of distraction! The rattle of the uzi can be heard again, short bursts of fire supplemented by shrieks and screams of pain. A creepy female laugh can be heard from the darkness, reaching even to Frank's ears as Gwenpool does her thing.

Frank Castle has posed:
The female laughter that accompanies the cries of alarm and anguish draws does draw the attention of The Punisher. Not because it's disconcerting, but because it's unlikely that the Golino's have a woman galavanting about the darkness, illuminating in the peculiar get-up with each muzzle flash that erupts with the spitting of her uzi. Frank doesn't fire at her because, for the moment, it seems like their goals align. For the moment she's not a target. For the moment they are operating from the same angle. Whether that persists will remain to be seen.

A pistol pulled from his own holster, Frank fires once into the back of a Golino mafioso that warily backs toward him. He catches the body before it can drop and with a grunt of exertion, he bodily lifts and drops the dead man into the forklift's seat. With the seat now weighed down, it could start and operate. A moment later and the sound of an engine starting can be heard as the forklift rumbles to life. A couple levers pulled and the forklift takes off, trundling along at a speedy pace, but not so fast that it can't be avoided. In truth it is little more than a distraction and one that does bear some fruit. As some of the Golino's begin firing at the forklift and its morbid cargo deposited into the driver seat.

More shots join with others as Frank stalks the darkness and even the gloom created by the forklift's cab lights. More bodies crumple to the ground as The Punisher moves with practiced precision among the crates and shelving units of the warehouse.

It's Gwenpool that notes Solomon Golino withdrawing toward one of the side rooms that possesses only one point of entry, along with a pair of his most trusted cronies.

The forklift eventually collides with the northern wall, barreling through the old wood surface and continuing onward and outdoors.

As the last of the Golino footsoldiers falls under the combined gunfire of Gwenpool and The Punisher, Frank Castle appears from the darkness with a barrel leveled upon the bright colored murderess. In that brief moment, they have an opportunity to at least exchange a few words.

"Answer quick. Who're you here to kill?" the gravelly, harsh voice grinds through the darkness. The barrel does not stray from where it rests leveled upon the silhouette of Gwenpool.

Gwendolyn Poole has posed:
Sometimes something happens that is so BIZARRE that you just have to stop and stare. Even if you're Gwenpool. Maybe especially if you're Gwenpool.

In the midst of darkness and chaos... a forklift driven by a dead man is rumbling around the warehouse, and that itself wouldn't be enough to make her pause. However, the forklift seems to be actively chasing one of the goons around! As if in death the former goon is taking revenge on whatever 'friend' got him into this situation. And THAT level of bizarre is enough to stop her short, the uzi faltering as she watches the forklift for a few moments as it seems to follow the goon every which way he runs.

"...huh... that's new."

Shaking her head, Gwen turns away just in time to spy Solomon backing into the high value room with a couple goons, a broad grin growing across her exposed mouth. "Aha! Found you! Olly olly oxen freeeeeeeeee!" She starts skipping towards the high value room, rummaging around in a penguin-shaped backpack, perhaps seeking more of the plastic explosive. Or maybe just a stick of dynamite.

Halting mid-skip as she finds herself shadowy face to masked face with... "OH. MY. GOD! You're him! The Punisher! Too cool! HUGE fan, Mr. Punisher. LOVE your hardware. You have some guns that are just... mwah!" She mimics the chef's kiss motion, then blinks those lenses (somehow) and cocks her head to one side. "Kill? Oh, noone in particular. Golino has the Macguffin! I'm here to retrieve it. Worth a pretty penny to me, and that keeps me in cheeseburgers and ammo, not to mention lets me care for my baby Jeff. He's adorable, you'd like him. Are you here for Golino? You can have him, I just need The Item he's carrying."

Frank Castle has posed:
The moment is tense and for Frank Castle it remains tense. That's even after Gwen begins gushing over The Punisher and proclaims herself a fan. The barrel of his gun does not shift, sink, or sway. It maintains its direct angle at the brightly colored mercenary's torso. The center of it to be precise. The sudden movements may risk someone under the gun of The Punisher being shot; but for whatever reason the idea of shooting the woman never truly crosses his mind. It isn't that he's incapable of pulling the trigger. It's more the sense that something significant would be lost if he did. He doesn't fire. Not yet, anyway.

Which doesn't mean that he lowers his weapon either. The pistol remains in position, even while Solomon Golino can be heard shouting from the sideroom, inviting the pair of gunmen to venture into the hole that the Golino family head had tucked himself into.

Again Frank speaks, his voice kept low and harsh, "I don't know what you're talking about kid, but whatever Golino's got? It's yours". He doesn't proclaim or announce, but keeps his words muffle enough that they won't carry to Golino himself. They are on a time budget however, so Frank's statement is kept terse, "Kill Golino, get what you came for, I take the crates". From Frank's own perspective he makes out like a bandit on the deal, of course. "Deal?" he asks with a glance toward the side room that Golino had fled, they Frank's attention promptly returns ot Gwen. They may align for the moment, but treating this apparent HUGE fan with zero caution is surely unwise.

Gwendolyn Poole has posed:
"Deal! Give me like... thirty seconds. I got something that will even the odds for us." Gwenpool flashes a grin and leans forward from the hips, reaching out and shaking... the gun barrel that's being pointed at her. Two quick shakes and she's cartwheeling away without care for the threat the Punisher represents. Strange girl, but her tactics have been effective so far!

Rummaging around in her backpack, she pulls out a pair of smoke canisters, "Aha! There you are, I was wondering if I'd forgotten to pack you! Be good girls, okay?" Gwen doesn't bother with the door. They're covering that. Instead, she clambers up and around to the ducts that handle the vent and air control for the refrigerated and high value rooms. "You know. We could totally just wait. There's no power, no air moving in those rooms. Those guys will suffocate in a few hours. Less, if Golino keeps running his yap. Buuuuuuuuuuuuut, I have a baby landshark to get home to, so..."

She pulls the pins, releases the catches, and drops the smoke canisters into the duct that leads to the high value room. "This is will be faster. Either they'll come running out in about thirty seconds, or they'll pass out and they'll be easy targets!"

Frank Castle has posed:
The insistence on thirty seconds isn't given an answer. Frank just watches on with a mixture of confusion and concern. The shaking of his gun's barrel would normaly result in his twisting away and engaging his target, but as before he simply doesn't feel compelled to put a bullet in her. To this point she had done nothing aggressive or misaligned with his own purpose. While his pistol may lower as brightly clad woman begins to rummage in her backpack; he seems ready to draw on her anew should she come out of the backpack with something of immediate danger. When all that she presents are a couple smoke canisters, Frank's brow furrows with the same concern, but now mingled with curiosity.

When her plan seems to become apparent, Frank presents her with a firm nod. He's focused on his mission, but it seems that this gun-toting crazy person has decent tactics. Even if fairly unorthodox.

While she works to get into position with the smoke canisters, Frank's chin shifts and his gaze turns toward the half-prepared weaponry that was never fully loaded by one of the Golino soldiers before he'd been gunned down by the uzi-toting killer.

"Yeah..." he growls out. Whether the statement is intended to answer Gwenpool or his own thoughts is surely up for debate. He does however move over the half-loaded weapon of death and mayhem. The rattle and jangle of the belted 7.62 scrapes and clatters against the receiver feeder tray. Practice and experience pays off as The Punisher has the M60 swiftly. As the rooms begin to fill with smoke, Frank Castle is there and ready with the M60 resting upon the edge of one of the shipping crates. The death-dealing end of the belt fed machine gun rests leveled off in the direction of the two rooms, ready to engage the moment the occupants of the rooms come bursting out.

Gwendolyn Poole has posed:
With the canisters dropped, Gwen scuttles away from the ducts and scrambles back down and around to post up near Frank. Taking up a spot behind the crates, she pulls her pistol and checks the magazine, then makes sure to chamber a round before peeking over the top edge. They can already hear the goons starting to cough and hack as the smoke fills the room while the canisters are caught behind the vent. With the power out, there's no airflow, nothing to pull the smoke from the room. Solomon's taunts end as he starts to choke and cough as well, leaving Gwen snickering.

"Never back yourself into a closed room... WAY too easy to kill the air inside. Then you get to choose.. slow, painful, choking death... or short, painful hail of bullets death." She glances to Franka nd flashes a grin, "I may have read too many comics." A moment's pause, "That's a lie, there's no such thing as too many."

Turning back, she's just in time to watch the door fly open, the goons and their boss stumbling out and gasping for air while they try to clear their lungs of the acrid smoke. Gwen takes aim at Solomon Golino, trying to get a single headshot on him to limit the potential for the item he carries being shredded by Frank's hail of gunfire. But since Frank is here to kill and raid their weapons supply, she's more than happy to let him do his thing while she waits for the cacophany to die down!

Frank Castle has posed:
Solomon and his two men come stumbling, hacking, coughing, and gagging their way out of the sealed side room. The smoke billows out after them and Frank's expression turns from one of focus, to a distinct sneer. He does not waste time. He does not make speeches. He does not taunt the enemies in his war - at least not all of them. He does not thrust his enemy into desperate situations that will surely kill them, only to create the opportunity for their miraculous escape. While sometimes his methods may prove creative or unorthodox in his own way; he often has efficiency in mind. Making use of a wood chipper to dispatch a target is more efficient financially than the expenditure of ammunition.

Unfortunately - or fortunately, depending on perspective - Frank doesn't have a wood chipper when Solomon and his two cronies come bursting from the side room. Almost immediately upon their wretched escape from the choking smoke, he begins to fire. Right as he fires, another shot rings and brings Solomon Golino stumbling lifelessly forward and to the concrete floor of the warehouse.

The two remaining cronies are nearly as fortunate to have such a precise shot as Solomon had received. The M60 opens up barks and rattles, spitting a tremendous amount of bullets in their direction. Frank's teeth grit and his eyes alight with fury and vengeance. Even after the two begin fall, the M60 continues to fire toward them.

Ammo is valuable though and The Punisher quickly regains control of himself, lets off the trigger of the heavy machine gun. As the echo of its barking rattle begins to fade, Frank's eyes turn swiftly toward Gwenpool, "Get what you need and get out of here". He pauses for a moment, his brow scrunching as he seems to focus on something spoken in his ear. A nod and then he comments to Gwen, "You got about seven minutes."

While he does keep an eye on Gwenpool while Frank sets himself to the task of loading everything that he can into the van 'parked' in the office, he does call out to the young woman, "There's a diner in Queens. Graniteville Diner. I wanna talk to you in three days. Meet me there at 8 sharp - that's in the morning."

Gwendolyn Poole has posed:
Gwen stays hidden during the 'hail of gunfire' moment, she may be considered a mutant in this world, but she doesn't have a healing factor! When the harsh rattle of the machine gun fades, she uncovers her ears and flashes Frank a grin and a thumbsup, "I'll be out in three!" She vaults over the crate and sidles her way around the growing puddles of blood to quickly rifle through Golino's pockets, coming up with a thumbdrive after a few moments, "Aha! Ooooooo, taking this, too..." She snags a blingy pinky ring off the man's finger as well, tucking it into her hipslung fanny pack.

Trotting back over towards Frank, she looks over the weapons before giving a shrug and looking expectantly to Frank. Almost as if she were expecting him to give her a time and date for a future meeting. That it's set for the morning has her groaning, "Fine, but if I have to climb out of a hot guy's bed to go meet you at ass o'clock, you're paying for breakfast." Then she flashes a grin and heads off into the darkness, eventually fading out of sight like some pantsless arctic ninja!

Frank Castle has posed:
Beyond keeping a wary eye cast toward Gwen and the possibility of treachery, Frank maintains his focus on transferring equipment from crates to van. Midway through his porting equipment from the warehouse floor to the back of his vehicle. He doesn't offer comment on her complaints regarding the need to be an early riser. All that he has to offer in answer is a subdued grimace and a sideward glare.

Only after the pantsless weirdo runs off into the night does Frank approach the body of Solomon Golino. He does not delay in unholstering his sidearm. Three more shots explode in the darkness. Two to the chest and a final to the head. There would be no second chances or miraculous recoveries for the Golino crime boss.

One minute and forty eight seconds later an urgent voice buzzes insistently in his ear. While he didn't get every last scrap of death-dealing metal? He got enough. Soon the van's driver side door bangs closed. The engine still running from when it had ran through the shoddy exterior wall and parked in the office space, Frank's quick to throw it into reverse. Following the instructions of the voice tucked away within his ear, he soon creeps the van out of the Dixon Docks area, through Chinatown, and eventually into Gotham proper where he'll transfer the cargo from the busted up van to a fresh pickup truck with a covered bed.

From there it's back to New York with another arsenal to add to his already mindboggling stockpile.