Chapter Text
Frank Castle is one of the world's most accomplished mass murderers on record. Over four hundred confirmed kills as of his last reckoning, spanning a career lasting decades, multiple tours of duty, and years as a career vigilante.
He's traveled the world and visited his brutal version of justice everywhere he's been. He’s seen horror writ large, massacres and atrocities, he's been on the right side and the wrong side of history, always with his guns, his knives, his bare fists if he must.
Even in the screaming bloody howl of a warzone, Frank knows how to keep his head. He rarely feels like a hero, even as he plucks a child from impending danger and kills those who would do her harm, but he never feels useless, never feels like a coward. A man of action is our Frank Castle, decisive and powerful.
And yet he wakes every night, a few scarce hours after falling asleep, chased from dreams of his own little girl, of the hole where her face used to be, and in the hammering of his heart and the tears drying on his cheeks, he knows what it truly means to be helpless.