Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

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"You're crazy! I won't kill you!"

"Then he must die."

"No! No one has to die! You don't have to do this! He deserves to die, but he shouldn't die on the street, not by your hands! He should die legally! If you do, we What is the use of the society that we have built? What is the use of the laws we have painstakingly established!"

"God! Man! Don't you get it?!" Matt Murdoch roared desperately in the rain.

The Punisher replied coldly: "It's all meaningless in the first place...and the thought of letting him live another minute is driving me crazy."

"Don't you understand?"

Matt Murdoch slumped to the ground as if his bones had been pulled out, muttering to himself: "My God..."

"Think about yourself first, Murdoch. Are you going to shoot?"

The Punisher said casually while aiming at the bastard who had just walked out of the bar through the eyepiece.

Matt Murdoch was silent, so the Punisher reminded him: "He's out the door."

"No! You can't do that! Frank Custer! I can't let you kill him! You know I can't, please, don't bring me into this situation."

Looking at his pleading appearance on the TV, Frank tilted his head slightly in front of the TV.

Ah, Matt. It wasn't me who brought you into this situation, it was you who got involved, poor old man, why do you have to force yourself to deal with me?

The people on the TV were still screaming: "You can stop now! Listen to me, listen to me! Frank! Frank!"

"I'm going to shoot." He got the cold and ruthless announcement of the Punisher, followed by a click, and then a gunshot that penetrated the rain curtain.

Matt Murdoch lowered his head and looked at the pistol in his hand with disbelief: "What happened?"

The Punisher, who had done his work, stood up, and he came to Matt Murdoch with a calm expression: "You shot, but I didn't give you bullets. Lawyers, remember to learn how to shoot first, and then look for it next time. I."

"You don't have to kill me. When you wake up again, the rope will be gone."

After speaking, he raised his fist.

Frank continued to fast-forward, case after case, person after person he dealt with. Heroes, criminals, and common people, these three names have gradually been replaced in his long career by obstructers, damned scum, and common people.

He closed his eyes and lay on his back against the sofa: "Is that all there is to it?"

The sofa shook slightly, he turned his head, opened his eyes, and a dark figure was sitting on his right hand: "You are very tenacious."

"Thanks for the compliment," Frank said lightly. "Now, can you tell me one thing?"

"What's up?"

"What do I have to do to kill you?"

The humanoid's shoulders trembled, and although it had no features, Frank was pretty sure it was laughing.

"Kill me? Hahahahaha, Mr. Frank, you are really funny. But, I don't think you can do it yet."

The sound on the TV continued to play.

"You think you're better than me?! You think you're a hero? You think you're on the side of justice?! Wrong! Wrong! All wrong! You're a serial killer! Punisher! You're a lunatic! Whatever you What do you call it, you're doing massacres in the city!"

"What do you want to do? Huh?! Keep killing us until we're all dead?! Will that make you any happier? You twisted little bastard! You should shoot yourself in the head, that's what Peace to you! You know it yourself, Punisher! You know it! You are nothing but a walking dead!"

"Damn you!"

Frank sat on the sofa with a blank face, what could be worse?

No, no more.

He was forced to sit in a damn, smelly little room. Then I have to watch what I do, and there is something sitting next to me that I don't know what it is.

On top of that, it's loud and chatty. And there's nothing Frank can do to keep the thing shut up—he can't even touch it. The fingers will run through its body like a stream of water.

It said: "I guess you must be very angry now, very angry, but you can't do anything about me."

Yeah, idiot, when am I not angry?

"Seriously, Frank, is there a moment when you want to kill yourself?"

all the time.

He's staring at what he's done on the TV, he's fighting Spider-Man. Spider-Man, Peter Parker. A nice guy, just a bit of a broken mouth.

"I've put up with you for too long, man! You're not the only one who has lost your love! But you're the only one who turned this into an excuse for a murderous spree!"

What the hell, when did this happen? I don't remember which one it was, that cobweb head hit me too many times. Frank stared thoughtfully at the TV, wondering when this happened, and Spider-Man's next sentence reminded him.

"But you've crossed the line this time! You killed the cops! You used to keep your hands on them. What made you kill them this time? Huh? Some guy's inappropriate joke?"

God, how on earth did he keep spinning and jumping while beating me up while saying so much.

Frank was a little helpless.

He had already remembered, and this time it was why this cobweb head fought with him - obviously, a conspiracy against him. Kill a few cops, leave your own sign, and set off a few more smoke bombs... Only a fool like Spider-Man will fall for it.

However, although he is an idiot, at least one thing is right.

I'm really looking for excuses.

Frank was lost in thought.

I'm fighting a war, a war that is long over, but I don't want to end.... When did this war begin?

Was it Central Park that summer day? Yes. The war started when a bullet pierced through my daughter's stomach, and by the time I arrived, her stomach had been smashed to pieces. If you're asking what I've learned from my military career, I can only tell you one thing.

The power of bullets is by no means the human body can resist.

My lungs were also punctured and I collapsed beside my daughter. When she saw her belly was beaten, and her internal organs were still squirming, the expression she showed was definitely not the expression of a four-year-old girl looking at the world.

Yes, and my wife.

A bullet passed through her heart. Then he fell on his back on the lawn. Her azure blue eyes looked at me until the very last moment. My breathing sounded like cutting glass, and I vomited blood and pain. All these swept in.

So, every night after that, I continued to fight. Once a war begins, it never stops - unless one side is dead. By Frank Custer against the criminals of the whole world, if I die, the war is over.

It's as simple as that, but who knew that those bastards would keep me alive for so long...  

Frank turned his head slightly, looked at the black figure, and asked, "Those people like me, have they experienced this too?"

"No, Mr. Frank. They didn't," replied the figure. "Most people cry with joy the moment they learn that they have gone to heaven. They are glad that their cause has been recognized by the Lord. Then their souls are thrown into hell by the angels and exchanged with the devil."

"The other ones will look at the angels with contempt, and some will spit on the ground - you can imagine their fate, the angels are not good things. You should be very clear about this."

"Yeah, I know." Frank nodded.

"There are only two people, two people who have ever talked to me. One of the things necessary to talk to me is to keep the angels at bay until they call me. You are one of them, Mr. Frank."

"What about the other one?"

"He doesn't have a name, and he doesn't need that kind of thing," Sombra replied calmly. "He considers himself nothing but a shadow, a vengeful shadow. He avenges all the souls in the world who have suffered injustice and died."

"Sounds much nobler than me."

"The argument doesn't matter. What you do is no different from him, Mr. Frank. The only difference is that he uses a sword, and you use hot weapons."

"Yeah." Frank let out a grunt from his throat, signaling that he was listening.

Sombra continued: "I have to remind you, Mr. Frank. It's not that I want to keep you here - I'm just a weapon. Weapons are made to be stained with blood and held in different hands. The angels want me to kill you, and I have no choice but to do it."

"So what? We're going to have to sit here and watch my life from start to finish hundreds of times, and get bored to death in the end?"

"No, usually you die the first moment you touch me. But you don't. So I did another way, I wanted you to press the button that unleashes your inner demon, and you didn't. down."

Sombra shrugged. "So, here we are. I can't kill you, Mr. Frank. I have to admit it. So, let's just hang around here."

There was a long silence.

Frank looked at the TV, and the shadow had disappeared. He watched himself shoot and kill a large group of people in the picture, swept through the crowd with full-automatic firepower, and suddenly said, "You know, weapons are meant to be held in people's hands... There are considerations. Have you ever changed hands?"

He got a chuckle: "Just waiting for your words."

-------------------------------------

"Isn't it ironic?" He Shenyan said to the emperor. "A consciousness gathered from the sins of mankind can be regarded as a good person."

"I've seen much more irony than this, nothing to be surprised about." A smile appeared on the Emperor's mouth, which was fleeting. But he did laugh.

He said: "Your assessment, he passed?"

"Yeah, he passed." He Shenyan nodded. "Perfect exam paper, although it's not the way I think. But who stipulates that there can only be one solution to a question?"

"What kind of way did you originally think?"

"The Punisher's cliché, kill those sins or something...with the flame I gave him. As long as he subconsciously thinks it's necessary, the flame can hurt the sin itself. It's a pity that he doesn't seem to mean that."

"He used more violent means," the Emperor said noncommittally. "Using violence to control violence is fast, simple, direct, and effective."

"Yeah. So now, it's time for us to switch channels, or are you going to watch him kill through heaven and then burn hell down?"

"Keep it. I want to see how he does it. It will help me evaluate his combat skills and tactical level and find a good position for him in the future."

He Shenyan chuckled twice: "What? You have already made up your mind?"

The emperor stared closely at the man in the light curtain, and said softly: "After his business is completed, I have to trouble you to leave me a small back door. I want to perform the operation on him myself."

"Whatever you want - as long as you tell him the truth." He Shenyan shrugged, took out a black glass ball from his pocket, and threw it to the Emperor. "Be careful, I added some ingredients when I made that thing."

"What?"

"Hate." He Shenyan said.