Tabula Rasa

Chapter 77

It was a common misconception that a headbutt involved smashing your forehead directly into your opponent's forehead. But that was just a recipe for getting your own bell rung - even when your bell was protected by a mask made of carbon fibre.

So when Matt reared back his head and smashed it into his opponent's face, he aimed for the chin.

It helped that the man he was fighting was a few inches taller than him. It also helped that he was slightly disorientated from the several blows to the head Matt had already delivered with his fists. He never saw the hit coming, and there was an audible crack as his jaw broke. The man cried out in pain.

And Matt smiled.

He followed up the headbutt with a knee to the groin and a series of brutal strikes to the kidneys and the gut. He wailed on the man until he collapsed to the ground, and then he kept attacking, kicking him wherever he could land a blow as the man curled up into a fetal position.

He didn't feel an ounce of guilt. All he felt was anger.

This man had already brutally attacked and sexually assaulted two students on campus. Tonight he'd been hunting for his third. But Matt had been ready for him, and he'd stopped him just as he'd gotten within reach of his next victim.

Matt sensed the man go limp just as he pulled his leg back for another kick. And for the briefest moment, he wanted to keep going. To just kick and kick and kick until the man was wiped from this earth - back to whatever oblivion Thanos had once sent him.

Because this man had returned two months ago, just like Matt. He'd returned to this broken, grieving world...and he'd decided to hurt it further.

He didn't deserve to live.

Matt staggered back at the insidious thought, whispered from deep within the blackest parts of his soul. And he heard the Punisher's voice in his head, taunting him. 'You know, you're one bad day away from being me.'

No.

No.

Matt bent over, bracing his hands on his thighs. His breaths were ragged - both from the exertion of the fight and the realisation of how far he'd strayed towards his line in the sand.

He was still too keyed up from seeing Calina last night. Still too angry at the way she'd driven off without a backward's glance. He'd hoped donning the suit would focus that anger. Give it an outlet so it could dissipate. But it just seemed to be fuelling it further...

Matt straightened up as the wail of sirens filled the air - the police likely alerted by the woman Matt had saved. He took one last look at the piece of shit at his feet, then fled to the safety of the shadows.

———

Calina swallowed harshly, shaken by what she'd just seen.

That was not the Matt she remembered. The Matt she remembered fought with skill, and a violent, powerful beauty. He wasn't some mindless brawler, reigning blows upon a downed man. He didn't take pleasure in inflicting pain. He didn't punish.

But what she'd witnessed just now was a punishment. It was a graceless, merciless punishment.

And she was probably to blame.

He must feel so angry. And confused. Frustrated and alone. He'd disappeared then reappeared in the blink of an eye, and in that blink five years had passed.

And she hadn't been there.

During what was probably the most bewildering, terrifying moment of his life, she hadn't been there. She hadn't been there to hold him and tell him it would be okay, that they'd get through it together. That everything was alright now, because he was home, and she loved him and she'd missed him so much...