Chapter 2

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"Damn," the Punisher hissed, applying disinfectant to his shoulder wound. "That son of a bitch."

Punisher then sewed his wound shut, with large amounts of difficulty, and bandaged it up to near perfection. He has gotten quite good at it, bandaging up his wounds, that is. In his earlier days as the Punisher, he got nicked by bullets often and would have the occasional bullet wound from someone who got lucky. So patching up wounds had become an easy thing to do and pretty normal.

With a small groan, Punisher pushed himself up, off the very worn chair he had been sitting in. The apartment he was staying in was a very cheap place, so it's safe to assume that it's not in great condition. it was a one bedroom apartment with a bathroom and a decent size so he didn't complain. He walked around the living room area, moving passed his armor and weapons, picking up a knife on the way, and walked closer to his target board. He scanned it, seeing all of his targets on the board, from the gangs he took down each with knives in their pictures, to other targets who haven't been fully taken out yet. He flipped his knife around in his hand before stabbing it through the picture of the Chinese Triad leader. He sighed again, before tacking a new piece of paper on the board, one with a single word...

"LIGHT?"  he kept the question mark at the end since he didn't know much about them.

As he stared at his board, he heard the small creak his door makes when it's opening and closing. He grabbed a gun off the coffee table and aimed it at the intruder. He glared harshly at his new adversary, his finger itching to pull the trigger.

"Hello, Alam," the woman's sing song voice ran through the room.

Punisher, Alam, glared harsher at the woman as he growled out...

"Mother."

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