You might think that the most depressing time of year for me is Christmas, with the joy of the season, family enjoying each other’s company and good will toward men and all that crap. Considering I have no family, you might think that was the time of year I dreaded most.

You’d be wrong.

The night I dread every year is Halloween.

It was the one time of year that made my kids happy, even over Christmas. It might have been the sugar rush, but I think it was the fact they were able to transform themselves into something in their imaginations, something they couldn’t normally be in the ‘normal world’.

Frank Jr. loved to dress up as Captain America, a costume I approved of. I made him a shield from an old garbage can lid and tin foil with metallic paints. In Frank Jr.’s eyes, it was a totem of great power and awe.

To me, it was a shining example of the good inside my little boy.

Lisa wanted to be what millions of little girls dreamed of at her age. She wanted to be a princess. I hadn’t the heart to tell her that the dream would not bear any resemblance to the reality when she got older. Call me cynical, but even then I was not looking forward to the day when her heart would be broken for the first time. Likely the man that did that would find something broken as well.

I hated seeing kids running around outside, basking in the fun of the Halloween tradition. It was a knife running inside my heart. I decided to stay in tonight. There was always a pile of guns to clean and I had a backlog of Autoloader magazines to catch up on.

I was currently basing my operations out of a warehouse in Jersey, not far from a residential neighborhood. I could see kids from my window if I looked hard enough, so I stopped looking. I turned on the television but even that had to end as news reports talked about the night and the kids and adults enjoying it.

People think of me as one of those costumed do-gooders that wear spandex and fight super-villains. I won’t deny that I’ve tangled with my share of superhuman freaks, but I hate the idea of what I wear, the symbol I’ve adopted, being referred to as a costume. It’s a symbol. It means death, death for anyone that causes harm and corruption to another. I’m a killer, not a hero…and I’m very comfortable with that.

I was disassembling a Steyr M1912 machine pistol when I heard something from a dark corner of the warehouse. At first I thought it was a rat, since my perimeter security should have detected anything approaching me from outside. The dark corner was where I had set up my cot. I tended to sleep in the day.

I heard the shuffling of feet and immediately knew something was awry. Whoever this was meant business. The fact they had bypassed my security and made the mistake of foot noise anyway didn’t hit me as a contradiction, at least not yet. It would in about thirty seconds.

I pulled out my Glock and made my way to the sleeping area. I made no sound as I approached. I could hear the intruder moving around in the makeshift bedroom, walled off by canvas tarps. I came around the corner, weapon ready.

What I saw chilled me to the bone…and that is a hard thing to do.

A little boy was standing, facing away from me by my cot. He was clutching a teddy bear and sobbing quietly.

“Are you all right?” I asked. It was all I could think of to say.

“Daddy,” came a slurred voice. Even though it had been years since I had heard his voice, I recognized it immediately. It was Frank Jr. Somehow, it was my little boy. He was wearing a Captain America costume that was tattered and had seen better days.

“Frank?” I said. “It’s daddy…I’m here, buddy.” I knelt down.

Frank Jr. turned to face me. His lower jaw was gone, blood congealed on his chest and blackening his teeth. The gunshot that had taken his life had removed half of his face. His tongue was still relatively intact, writhing against his upper palate to try and pronounce a single word.

“Dad-dy?” he struggled to say.

I knelt down and set the gun down. I opened my arms. “It’s okay, son…Daddy’s here.” I didn’t care if it was a dream or not. I had my son back. I hugged him. Blood soaked into my shoulder. I didn’t care.

I had my son back.

---

This was unexpected. He embraces the dead carcass of his son with the same love I have seen others heap on their own still living spawn. I knew he was disturbed...ones like him are the most rewarding to manipulate...but this is not what I need from him.

Time to up the ante.

---

Frank Jr. disappeared from my arms. I looked around for him, but he was nowhere to be seen. Then I realized the warehouse was gone. I was in a kitchen, the sun shining inside from a well maintained backyard. This was the home I used to own before....before there was a need for the Punisher.

I looked out the window and saw a little girl skipping rope in the backyard. She's jumping over and over, never missing my beat. Just like Lisa. She loved to skip rope. A simple thing, yet it brought her such joy.

I walk out through the patio door and watch her for a few seconds. She's wearing a costume....a princess dress with a tiara. There's a small dark spot on the back facing me. How the hem of the dress isn't catching on the skip rope, I don't know. She just keeps going and going, never stopping.

“Lisa?” I ask. “Can Daddy get a hug?”

She stops skipping and runs towards me. I realize the dark spot is an entry wound. Running towards me I see the exit wound. Her chest is blown out, her ribs protruding. No wonder she could skip non-stop....she doesn't have to breathe. Dead people don't need to do that.

I reach out and embrace my daughter. She tries to tell me she loves me, but it just comes out as a dry rasp. I don't care...I'm just glad she's here. Her ribs poke me, but I pay them no heed. I'm with her again and that's all that matters.

---

Again! Again he does not give in to despair! The personal tragedy this man has experienced, the death and decay he has seen....he should be easy to drive to the edge! Damn him....I must go even further....and the one trick in my bag is the most potent of all.

---

Lisa is gone, I'm somewhere else again. It's the living room of my house, but its night once again. Candles are lit and a bottle of wine is chilling in ice. My heart skips a beat.

“Frank? The kids are at the sitter's. It's just the two of us.”

I smile as I look towards the stairs. There she is, my beautiful Maria. She's wearing the silk negligee that I love to see her in. I bought it for her the last Valentine's Day we spent together. She walked up to me, smiling. Her left breast is bleeding and her stomach is leaking bile from the gutshot she got that day in the park....but her smile. It's intoxicating. We embrace and I kiss her deeply. Her mouth tastes like old dusty death....but it’s Maria.

I'm happy. Happier than I've been in ages. My nightmares are gone tonight. Tonight, of all nights, I am happy.

So happy.

---

This human is like none I have encountered before! Not even the Hulk had this much oddity in his psyche! I present the reasons for his existence, the reasons he is the killer he is and he smiles! His hatred and anger are so focused, so dedicated to his goal, the psychic barriers he has erected protect him from even being confronted by his dead family....

Oh, this one will bear further watching. I will be back again, next time with more potent strikes against his mind....and when he breaks, oh the tasty morsel he will be.

I will wait....and eventually, D'Spayre will make this man's inner demons my own.

---

Frank Castle lies on his cot, sleeping more soundly than he has in years. He doesn't stir, he simply lies motionless. This wouldn't immediately seem any different than anyone else sleeping, except this night....

Frank Castle smiles. Frank Castle is happy, in his own warped way.

This Halloween night holds no depression for him....only love.

He is with his family again....his son, daughter and wife....

….at least until morning. Then....his mission resumes....and he will be renewed as he hasn't been in some time.

The dream demon D'Spayre tried to destroy the mind of Frank Castle....but instead, he has renewed the drive within the Punisher.

God help the guilty.

---

End