Rory and Frank Castle began their not-so-harmonious cohabitation.
Rory complained Frank had body odor.
Frank complained about Rory complaining that he had body odor.
One evening, Frank came back from "a walk," while Rory sat at his desk eating a bowl of zhajiangmian, eyes fixed on streams of data scrolling across the screen.
Frank sniffed the air, went into the kitchen, scooped himself some noodles from the pot, and imitated Rory by mixing in the savory sauce.
One bite in, and he was practically floating.
Still eating, he walked back over to Rory.
"You know," he muttered between mouthfuls, "you'd make a better chef than a scientist."
Rory didn't look away from his screen.
"You'd suck no matter what you do."
Slurp, another mouthful of noodles vanished.
Rory tapped rapidly on his keyboard, and the screen data shifted again.
Frank, not understanding a single thing on the screen, just shrugged and wandered back to his cot with his bowl.
Meanwhile, Rory finished his noodles, wiped his mouth, and started typing commands furiously. A nearby machine whirred to life, generating a tube of pale blue liquid, still warm from processing.
Rory plucked the vial from its slot and turned to Frank.
"Don't go wandering tomorrow. The serum's ready. We're heading to the outskirts first thing."
Rory had been considering how S.H.I.E.L.D. had tracked him down. After some thought, he suspected they had tapped into New York's power grid monitoring system.
This time, he planned to perform the enhancement trials outside the city, and prepare an escape route in case things went south.
Frank grunted in response and stood up, setting his empty bowl aside.
"Got something to take care of tonight. I'll be back by 8 AM sharp."
Rory knew he was digging into the conspiracy behind his family's murder and let him go without a word.
But… Frank didn't return, not by morning, not by noon.
Rory? Livid.
Two Days Earlier,
Frank had tracked down one of the men involved in the murder of his family, an agent named Wolfe.
He'd snuck into Wolfe's home, confirmed the truth, and executed him.
But there was another name connected to the case, David, a cybersecurity analyst for the NSA. Frank needed to find out if David was an enemy or an ally.
So, last night, he broke into David's secret hideout.
Everything was going smoothly, until Frank let his guard down. He hadn't thought of David as a threat.
Big mistake.
David, quick on the draw, hit Frank with a disguised tranquilizer pen. Frank went down like a sack of bricks.
That's why he missed the appointment with Rory.
Thankfully, David meant no harm. He wanted to team up with Frank to expose the truth behind what happened.
David had info. A black op codenamed Cerberus, carried out years ago, no official record, no Congressional approval.
Frank realized he'd been used by high-ranking government officials as a disposable weapon.
And now, all leads pointed to a mysterious figure known only as "Agent Orange."
"If we're going to take them down, we'll need better firepower," David said.
Frank glanced at the time and replied calmly:
"I know just where to get it."
Late, but unapologetic, Frank returned to Hell's Kitchen.
He found Rory sitting in their new underground lab, wearing a very sour expression.
Frank waved it off.
"Hey buddy. Let's move this along, yeah? I've got things to do."
"You are, without a doubt, the most unreliable friend I've ever had," Rory muttered.
Frank shrugged.
"Maybe."
The two rode out to the abandoned warehouse Rory had prepped in the outer suburbs.
Inside stood a fully-assembled bio-electrical conversion chamber.
Rory powered it up and motioned for Frank to strip and get in.
Frank didn't hesitate, if this brought him closer to avenging his family, he'd endure anything.
As Rory prepped the serum, he smirked,
"Might hurt a little. Try not to scream like a girl."
"Please. I've been through worse."
"Hope that wasn't just tough talk."
With a grin, Rory sealed the chamber.
Six injector arms pierced Frank's body in different spots.
Frank gritted his teeth. Not a sound escaped him.
At first.
As the current surged, the chamber began glowing blue. Rory slowly raised the voltage.
He'd done this a dozen times now. Smooth sailing, right?
WRONG.
Within twenty seconds, Frank went from gritting his teeth to screaming bloody murder.
Heart-wrenching, gut-churning howls. It was almost… impressive.
Rory leaned casually against the console, snacking on beef jerky as Frank wailed like a banshee.
Once the energy peaked, Rory shut it down.
Hiss, the chamber opened with a cloud of smoke.
Frank staggered forward and face-planted with a thud, kicking up a puff of dust.
Rory walked over, tossed a blanket over his now-naked friend, and calmly drew a full vial of blood.
Frank rolled his head to the side and rasped,
"For a second there… I thought you were trying to kill me."
Rory smirked.
"And here I thought you were a tough guy. But man, the way you screamed? Had me questioning everything."
Frank twitched… but let it go.
Still sprawled out, he asked weakly,
"Did it work?"
"How the hell would I know? We'll check when we're back."
Not wanting to test their luck, Rory packed up quickly and helped Frank get dressed.
The two vanished into the distance.
Sure enough, fifteen minutes later, a convoy of black SUVs rolled up to the warehouse.
Out stepped Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, and Peggy Carter.
Peggy led the group inside.
The chamber was still warm.
She frowned.
"He's building more super-soldiers. We have to catch him, fast."
Clint crouched down to inspect footprints.
Steve stood at the entrance, scanning the surroundings for any sign of Rory.
Peggy was about to order the equipment seized when Natasha approached.
"Director Carter, if Rory's this hard to find… why not set up surveillance here? There's a chance he'll return."
Peggy considered it and nodded.
"Do it. Hidden cams, motion sensors. Also, secure all routes out of the city. Inform NYPD. I want Rory officially wanted across all five boroughs."
Three rounds of enhancement so far.
Peggy could feel the pressure mounting.
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