Rumble 19510 The Punisher vs. Dudley Do-Right

[Repost]

Originally posted by: LoneWolf

-AND THE GUILTY WILL BE PUNISHED- “…And after his eyes go dead, the Hell I send him to will seem like Heaven after what I’ve done to him…” ----------------------------Jeff watched the men from a red haze that filled his sight. His face was warm and numb, he knew several of the small delicate bones had been shattered. He was lost in thought, unable to comprehend what was happening. He only knew one thing – he, Jeff Owens, was going to die. He thought about what that meant. He was sad to let it all go, visions of a thousand happy days filled his eyes. They clouded out his painful and inescapable present reality. “This can’t be real, please… I don’t want this to be real!!!” A pair of men had duct-taped his wife and children to chairs in their family room and were engaged in leisurely torturing them. They had all the time in the world and there was no escape for anyone – not even death. One of the vicious creatures put his face right in Jeff’s. “We having a GOOD TIME YET!?!” He howled with sadistic laughter and held a bloodied piece of flesh in Jeff’s face, “Say hello to your sweet daughter! We gave her face a little make-over…you like it?” Jeff felt sick as he realized he was looking at his daughter’s flayed facial skin. “Let’s play HOUSE!” Yowled one of the demented criminals and he held up Jeff’s son’s head for him to see, “I think we can make a new one with all these pieces!” One of them began cutting his wife’s face off with a kitchen knife while she screamed horribly. Jeff couldn’t help but be sick. The blood was pooling around him as he lay tied on the floor. It drenched his face and hair and leaked into his mouth. Jeff vomited uncontrollably as the killers began skinning his family alive. “Does she still look beautiful to you? As good as on your wedding day?” The hideously disfigured slab of spurting meat that used to be his wife, fell in front of him. Without her cheeks, her mouth was fixed in a giant rictus grin. Jeff was revolted, the sight was nauseating... however the shock was nothing compared to when she opened her eyes a mere foot from his. The horror and disgust that filled him from her revolting visage was indescribable, he writhed trying to get away from the disgusting creature he had once loved. “I… I love you…” she gasped and crawled over closer to him as he struggled, mad with terror and disgust. She locked her fleshy, bleeding jaws to his mouth and her bloodied tongue entered his throat as he convulsed with nausea. The thug nearest him lopped her head off with a quick machete stroke and Jeff realized he was making out with a skinless, severed head.The thugs seemed to have tired with their endless torments. “Let’s get some McDonalds… I could really go for a number four right now!” One of them said casually to the other.The thugs began pouring gasoline all over the bodies, causing Jeff to cough and spit as the caustic fluid washed over him. One of the thugs looked down at him questioningly. “No hard feelings pal, we were just passing through you know and your door was unlocked, hope you aren’t upset or anything…” Jeff was beyond reasoning at the time… he whispered absently “Yea.. no hard feelings…” The insane man smiled down at Jeff and told him “you have a nice day now!” The acrid scent of petroleum burned Jeff eyes and nose. A quick flash of light and scent of sulphur - a match. Jeff recalled what he had known his entire life. God would help him, Jesus died for his sins... well, he needed help now. He prayed to God “Please, please... I don’t want to die… HELP ME!” He heard a voice in his head. “I’m sorry my child, it is your time to go… I will be waiting here for you!” Jeff writhed and thrashed about as a stunning blast brought searing pain to every inch of his body… he couldn’t breathe. With the last ounce of air in his lungs he screamed out “F*CK YOU GOD!!!!!! F*CK YOU JESUS!!!!!!!” Then there was only the deafening roar of flames, white light and agonizing pain. “This is it, I’m dead…” He thought. Jeff’s last thought in this life was of the undying hate he felt for his smiling tormentors who had taken everything from him. He would crawl across a field of broken glass by his fingernails to dig his thumbs into those grinning eyes sockets. Anything, he would suffer; anything, he would endure, to make those bastards scream… to make them die in terror like he had. ------------------------------It was December 24th and the usual neighborhood noise had been muffled this week by a beautiful blanket of snow. Just out through the grimy window, on the other side of the street, there was a figurine of an angel composed of all-white Christmas lights. Once the shop lights in the city went out, it looked like a real angel floating above the world… giving hope to all that saw it.“I don’t care if you’re eight months pregnant, you c**k suckin’ gutter-wh*re! You owe me two-hundred dollars, don’t you f*ckin’ lie!” The brutish man grabbed the woman by her hair and lifted his shotgun to press the barrel against her bulging belly.“F*ck you Eddie! F*ck you! I’ve gotten high on your dope for YEARS and you never even knew, you f*ckin’ f****t!”Edward Brownfield looked at the couch across the room where his meth-addicted twelve year old son Joey was watching TV. His son could care less about what his parents were doing, they fought all the time; mommy having two or three men over in her room when daddy was gone dealing drugs. Daddy would find out and point his gun at mommy and scream that he was going to kill her like he always did. A few years ago he started smoking dope because his parents left their pipe out in the living room, now he would just steal it from the small drawer in daddy’s room. Last week daddy had just been released from jail after a one month stay for concealed weapon violations.“You f*cking stole my money, you stole my DOPE, you f*ckin’ cheated on me with every guy in the neighborhood! You think I’m gonna let you live after that?”The cheap makeup smeared face of the woman cracked into an angry laugh and she spit back in a screeching voice.“Yea Eddie, I gotta list, I check who is on it and trust me when I say I f*cked every….single… guy... in this neighborhood! You wanna know what?! That ain’t even your son ovah there! A f*ckin’ cop is his daddy!”“So… then who’s this thing belong to?” He pointed at her belly.“F*ckin’ Santa Claus! No really, I f*cked that guy in the mall with the big white beard!”Joey’s heart jumped as a deafening boom punched him in the chest. His mother’s belly exploded like a large watermelon from the 12 gauge blast. A spray of blood and chunks of ruptured fetus painted the walls in dirty red and black. Joey looked at his daddy still holding the gun, then down at the corpse of his mother. The intense drugs in his veins had eroded all emotional vigor, using the endorphins as fuel to keep his young body awake for day after day. He turned back to watch TV, all this meant now is that his daddy was going back to jail again and he would probably have to go live with Danny’s parents again, just like he had for a few months last year.Eddie put the shotgun on the TV table and pulled his meth-pipe from his jacket pocket. After a few good, deep-lung hits he leaned back into the soft couch and handed the pipe to his son. They smoked the rest of a 40-sack between the two of them and watched Miami Vice on TV, it was the closest thing to father-son bonding Joey could imagine.“You know what boy? I feel like getting a drink. I think the Save-On Liquor is open till two or so.”Eddie left the room and walked down the freezing, dirty stairwell that separated the low rate apartments his family lived in. The dope took the edge of the biting cold out of his bones. His shirt was spattered with small flecks of blood, but he zipped his jacket up concealing it from anyone might possibly recognize it for what it was; in reality an extremely unlikely chance, however the drugs caused extreme paranoia.He could hear what sounded like bells ringing as he pull into the parking lot with a crunch as his tires broke the fresh snow. He saw two other cars parked on the other side of the small lot as he trudged through the dirty drifts that had gathered close to the storefront. He pushed the door and it rang a small jingle as he stepped into the heat. All around him were displays, showing people having what they called ‘holiday cheer’ which seemed to involve drinking and smiling a lot at their office party. Eddie grabbed a plastic half-gallon of rum and went to the counter, where the only other customer was finishing paying for his purchase. Eddie did a double take as he realized the man at the counter was wearing a police uniform under his long coat. After he paid, Eddie ran outside and saw the cop getting in his unmarked black Suburban. “Hey partner, think you can give me hand? My battery’s dead!”The cop put the bottle in the back seat of his truck and grabbed a flashlight before walking over with a friendly smile on his face.“Sure pal! Lemme take a look under the hood, I got a pair of cables, but I think I might be able to fix the problem…”Eddie propped the hood open and the cop leaned over to look at the battery cables. Eddie slowly drew a cheap .22 revolver from the back of his waistband and jammed it against the back of the cop’s head before yanking the trigger twice.*BANG**BANG*The snow caused the reports to be a lot quieter than usual; even then not very loud.Methamphetamines are known to have a common side effect of causing increased sexual activity in users, this coupled with increased adrenaline can often cause irresistible urges in addicts. Eddie glanced around nervously before stuffing the body of the dead man into the back seat of his car, then commenced satisfying his urges on the still warm corpse - it seemed like the only natural thing to do.After he had finished, Eddie heaved the corpse into a dumpster so that the clerk wouldn’t see it the second he closed the store."Heh… I guess I don’t need to worry ‘bout getting pulled over now!" Eddie thought to himself and took a long pull from the half-gallon as he drove through the deserted streets. The snow began to fall again in a light haze of thick white flakes. Eddie took another swig and felt deep inside that everything was going to be alright in the end.Everyone was home with their families right now, kids in their beds waiting for Santa to come down the chimney and drop off their presents. This day was a symbol across all nations of peace between all men. A day of hope and joy for the young and old, when logs roasting on a hot fire, songs that brought warmth to the heart and the simple joy of seeing loved ones on the day of the birth of Jesus Christ all those years ago in a tiny manger in Bethlehem. A day that would foretell a wondrous joy, year after year for all the children of God, whether they be black or white or any color in between. Eddie was happy to be alive on this beautiful Christmas morning and soon he would be enjoying a great American Christmas with his family.----------------------------------- The detective looked away from the taped off alley way. He needed to clear his mind. He had only seen the corpse for a second, yet he would remember it until the day he died. How could anyone do that to another human being?“Only God knows who did this to her…”Jerry looked up at his partner.“I’m gonna skip lunch today... After this, I don’t think I could keep it down…”His partner shook his head.“After what the body’s been through, it’s a miracle they could find something to work with…” The disgusted officer turned his head down to face the blood-spattered sidewalk.“The lab has some tissue samples. Not much mind you, but enough... They are sending it back to this new group, Synaptic Pathway Reimaging.”“Supposedly, they can reconstruct an accurate account of the victims last memories… based on neurological pathways the brain constructs to move nerve impulses.”“Didn’t you say this girl’s dad was some scientist or something?”----------------------An elderly, balding man sat alone in a small room next to a sheet-covered table. He wore a plastic badge hanging from a lanyard that read ‘Dr. Eric Sanchez’. As he looked down at the covered figure on the examination table he felt a wave of nausea rise up in him. It had been three days since she had been brought to the lab, three days it had taken him to work up the courage to look at her face.It was worse than he could have imagined... His stomach curled and he ran to the bathroom to be sick. His strength left him as he convulsed and fell to the ground. He lay on the floor, feeling the cool tiles against his skin as he shook and tried to pretend it hadn’t just seen …THAT.His eighteen year old daughter lay in the next room, mutilated beyond all recognition. Her beautiful, smiling face replaced with sickening gristle and bone. He thought about all the times throughout her young life when she had brought so much joy to her family. “Who… who could have…”The only way he would ever know is if she were to sit up and tell him…Well, there was another way. A leading neurologist in the field, he had spent many years researching the physical changes that occur in the brain, that coincide with memory.Knowing wasn’t enough, he realized. He felt a darker feeling wash over him. Someone had tortured and murdered his daughter for their own sick pleasure. Pieces started coming together in his mind. He reached in his pocket for his cell and dialed a number he hadn’t used since his college days.“Yea, I remember that A.I. work you were doing for the new system… listen, I think you might have heard what happened...”The voice on the other end finally spoke. “I’m so sorry man, I just can’t believe someone would do that… If there is anything you need…”He replied “You know what, there is something…”A week later a small group of white coated men and women gathered around the two tables. The first held a chemical tank containing human grey matter. On the second table a human figure covered in a plastic sheet.“She exists now only as a collection of thoughts, a basic program, if you will… to seek out images of whoever was responsible for her murder… now let me just…”He hit the enter key on his keyboard.The figure under the sheet twitched. A sound like a phone linked into an internet connection sounded from the covered body. Video monitors around the room lit up with activity. The details of the human/computer hybrid consciousness’ thought process were translated into graphics on the screen.A group of men on foot. Nicely dressed, all of them fat, sleazy-looking creeps. Following her. The screen became red tinted. Was it fear? The computer’s memory analyzed each of the faces in a freeze frame… noting a rapid scrolling list of physical features. Eyes, hair, build, facial recognition points…“Couldn’t we just go to the cops with these pictures?”The elderly scientist gave the man a hopeless look.“So they can go to jail…? if they aren’t rich enough or powerful enough to just buy their freedom. And even if they do… these guys OWN jail… Might as well lock them up in their own private mansion!”“It’s worth a shot…the only thing we can do…”“Yea go ahead, take the pictures…”The other man removed a thumb drive from the side of the computer and he and his colleagues hastily exited the room, leaving Dr. Sanchez alone with his grief.The sheet fell down from the unit’s face. Dr. Sanchez looked on hypnotized, eyes watering at the blank face of his deceased child… He hoped that the images would make their way into the hands of an honest cop who cared enough to do something about this tragedy, all that could be done was now out of his hands.The elderly scientist pulled a 9mm pistol out from his pocket.“Baby... I’m sorry I couldn’t make things right… You were all that mattered to me... After I’m gone, I know things will be better!”He put the barrel of the gun under his chin and squeezed the trigger.----------------------------“Louie…ya gotta ‘nother thou I can put on da table?? Dese girls been takin’ me for everyting!”The disgustingly obese man laughed an unhealthy and phlegmatic wheeze of laughter.Tony Gordo was taking a break from the high stakes life of a distributer for Mexican Narco bosses. A week in Atlantic City, New Jersey with a cool 5 million to blow. Yes, this was the life. He could do whatever he felt like... No one and nothing could stop him.Something was out of place. He scanned the casino crowd and couldn’t put his finger on it. There. A young girl in the crowd, blank face, walking towards him. Something was familiar about her. What was a girl that young doing in a place like this?…Wait a second…“Hey Louie... is it just me… Or... does dat girl right dere look JUST like the one last week?”Louie’s piggish eyes, half-way open, scanned the crowd.“Yea... it looks like huh... but after dat liddle pahdee we had… no way she looked dat good…”The girl looked right at him. She paused for a second. Then she started across the room in his direction.“Louie… look at dis little thing…”As she got nearer, he felt a cold feeling in his chest. She looked EXACTLY like the girl from last week. But, no, it couldn’t be. She was sitting in a dumpster in Tijuana right now. No way this was her... hell, there were millions of girls that looked like that. Still it was eerie…She continued to walk towards him, ignoring all other people. She came closer and looked into his eyes. Something wasn’t right here… had he overdone it on the coke? Was he seeing things? He had known people who had lost it before…The girl grabbed his collar in a playful manner and pulled him over into a corner.“Whoa deh… ain’t you a liddle young ta be in heya?”She was dressed in a absolutely stunning school-girl outfit. The piggish man’s mind began to think twisted thoughts. He could do anything he wanted…Her small hand reached out and caressed his bulging belly, right below the navel.“Ahhh that’s right honey...”Her fingertips pressed surprisingly hard into his fatty flesh and his smile went away. He felt the rolls of fat shift and move as her steely-hard fingers drove and drove deeper into the folds of his abdomen.“Uhhh... uhh… f*ck... what... what tha...”He screamed as he felt the skin stretch tight and her fingers pressed it to the breaking point. He grabbed her pretty young face and tried desperately to throw her back. But it was like moving a telephone pole, not a budge.His scream reached a squeal as the entire room stared at the shocking spectacle.The girl’s fingers tore through the taut layer of skin and dug deeply into the blood-streaked, greasy yellow layer of subcutaneous fat. His scream stopped and became a choking stutter… “Uh… uhhh… uhh… uh…”A half-dozen of his companions stood by, open mouthed... frozen and unable to act.With a revolting ripping noise, the girl’s hand tore through the final fleshy layers and disappeared into the man’s inner organs. She reached for a second, grasping strands of large intestine and pulling them back out through the raw hole, with a splatter of blood and dark bilious fluids.The Narco boss’s bodyguards stood like statues as their boss was disemboweled, handful at a time, by a pretty young girl with a blank stare…Tony woke up in a cold sweat.He was breathing hard as he looked around and rubbed his bleary eyes.The feeling of pain in his stomach was still there, "must have been the Chinese..."He grabbed his cell from his dresser and checked the time. Might as well get up now, he figured, it was going to be a busy day.First, he called his boys ‘Danny the Sicko’ and ‘Freebase Mike’. They were a bit messed up in the head from smoking PCP and huffing paint, but they were ruthless and did good work for cheap. He pondered for a moment then decided to give ‘Crackhead Eddie’ a ring as well - the extra security wouldn’t hurt. Last, he showered and threw on some cheap cologne and a suit for his weekly meeting with the guys. Profits had been up 15% in the last month alone and he wanted to negotiate a new split.He had rented out a decent sized office in a warehouse owned by the Freemont Paper Co. It was quiet and out of the way – perfect for any kind of business he needed to do, from meetings to coercion to outright whacking guys.At around 8 PM he pulled into the warehouse lot and parked next to a large loading dock. He had a funny feeling as he stepped into the warehouse, like he had forgotten to do something important…-----------------------------The Third Avenue Deli had a nice little canopy to keep customers out of the icy drizzle. This was sure as hell no White Christmas, more like brown and dirty gray, but this was as good a place as any to meet a friend.Lieutenant Mark Danowski lit a cigarette and checked his watch for the third time. His man wasn’t usually late – maybe he had just missed him, he thought to himself. He felt a hand clap on his shoulder and he turned to face a man in sunglasses with a hooded Yankees sweatshirt pulled tight concealing his features.He coughed as he passed the man in shades a pair of envelopes, “Merry Christmas… got a little somethin’ for yeh!”The man spoke with a weary, gravelly voice, “Tell me what I’m lookin’ at…”“First one’s ya all-access ‘behind-the-yellow-tape tour!’ Pretty nasty stuff, and I see this for a livin’! …The other one …the perps…” The other man nodded his head and offered an easy salute before pocketing the envelopes.Mark took a pull off of his smoke and muttered beneath his breath as the man in the hood disappeared into a nearby subway terminal, “God bless you Frank!”I don’t think it was God that blessed me...----------------------------------War Journal entry; December 26th, 2010 hours: The small white figure entered the building as it sat beneath the electronically-rendered green hue of the sky. The NVG’s were a necessity, even though they were a bulky older model – my new pair fell under a van tire last week while I was doing some work in Jersey.After seeing those photos I had cancelled my plans for the weekend. I had to go shopping for some hardware - this job wasn’t the kind I could just put on the back-burner.I checked my molle pack, going over my tools one last time as a pre-combat inspection.One-pound block of C-4; bolt cutter; two pairs of handcuffs; a dozen mags for the M-4; K-Bar on the left side of my flak jacket; Glock 33, with silencer and sub-sonic rounds, in a shoulder holster and finally, my carbine across my back. Time to do work.I just walked up to the door and knocked – no exterior guards were posted… thanks for making my job easier!The door opened and an angry-looking Italian guy with gin on his breath stuck his red face out to say hello. I shot him once in the throat so he would keep quiet, then I slammed the heavy door on his neck, breaking his spine.Flipping the circuit breaker seemed like a good move, I had the NVG’s – they didn’t. Right after the lights went out, this greasy scumbag came around the corner, looking for the first guy I guess. I stuck the K-Bar in his right eye socket and he dropped to his knees screaming and writhing. I gave the hilt a good kick, sending the blade into his cranial cavity. He stopped twitching.I had made a little bit of noise, but this actually worked to my advantage. With the power out, they really had no choice but to come look for me.After a minute or two, a man I recognized showed up, ‘Freebase Mike’. He and his partner were responsible for the torture and deaths of a small family a few days ago. He had it coming in a bad way.I shot him in his right arm to keep him from drawing his 9 mm. Then I dragged him over to some pipes label -CAUTION- and handcuffed him up to them, nice and snug. Once I turned the wheel to open the steam valves, those pipes would heat up to around 300 degrees Fahrenheit – kind of an unpleasant thing to be wrapped around when they got cooking.I left Freebase Mike behind, his screams were bothering me. Who would have guessed his best pal would come running when he heard all the racket? Rhetorical question.The pal was a real sicko named, would you have guessed, Danny the Sicko…I almost felt bad for Danny as I shot him in the kneecaps and shoved both of his arms into an industrial-strength paper shredder. His bones caught at the wrists but his skin continued to stretch and pull off as the machine ate it. In a minute it had peeled him like a banana and he wasn’t looking very pretty.Louie had his back to a wall and a shotgun held in a death grip with his sweaty, pudgy little hands.I fired a burst from the Glock into a shelf full of all kinds of nasty printing chemicals. Once his face had been splashed by the spray, he screamed like a fat little piggy and started firing blindly until he was out of shells. I chained his ankles to a guard rail and handcuffed his hands to the back of a forklift. I think he figured out what was going on when I turned the engine on and decided that I’d like to park it on the OTHER side of the room. I was careful not to step in any of his guts as I walked past his torso and crept up to the meeting room.Tony and Eddie were the last two left. They had heard the screaming and were probably scared out of their minds, wondering what the f*ck was going on.My Glock was jammed. I guess the sear pin had broken in that last firefight. I picked up a bottle of bleach and dumped it out on the floor, then the empty bottle went on the end of the M-4, it would keep the muzzle flash down and muffle the sonic crack a bit.I kicked the door to the meeting room open and got caught square in the chest with a double tap from a .40 cal. The SAPI plate in my vest splintered, but held. I shot back hitting Eddie in the hip and wrist and he went sprawling backward over a table. Tony took a round to the knee and shoulder and his magnum went flying from his hand. I grabbed a pair of large scissors off the table and walked over to his prone body.“Hey Tony, I learned a little something from your friends down in Medallin, called a ‘Columbian Necktie’... wanna see how it fits?”I cut his throat ear-to-ear with the scissors edge, then yanked his tongue out through the spurting gash. He would have bled to death pretty quickly but I shot him in the head with the M-4… so much for an open casket funeral.Eddie was gasping in pain - even after all the dope he had slammed, it wouldn’t take the bite off a 5.56 mm wound. I hefted him up and threw him into a chair.“Eddie Brownfield, killed your wife and got your son hooked on dope… real swell guy! Don’t worry though… I got something extra-special lined up for you!”The click of the safety being thumbed off on a Berretta caught my immediate attention. That and the badge held up along-side of it.“Step away from him and place the gun on the ground! I’m not going to tell you twice!”It figured, Dudley Do-Right showing up to save the day. Here to bring this scumbag back to a nice cozy cell. I wasn’t about to kill a cop, but I’d be damned if Eddie here was leaving this room in any way other than a body-bag.-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Can Frank talk Detective Dudley Do-Right down? If not can he disarm the detective and finish the job he started? Which man is morally correct – Frank’s eye for an eye attitude or Dudley’s determination to always take the high ground, so to speak?

[Callisto]

Learn More About
The Punisher
Read more about The Punisher at Wikipedia
Official Site: Marvel Comics Links: The Punisher's Wikipedia page IMDB Punisher The Punisher Archives

Dudley Do-Right
Read more about Dudley Do-Right at Wikipedia
Official Site: Jay Ward Links: wikipedia Toonpedia The Best of Dudley Do-Right

[Callisto]

MATCH SCORE
The Punisher: 1
Dudley Do-Right: 0