Chapter Text
Name: Lisa Elizabeth Castle
Age: 10 years
Sex: F
…
Marks and Wounds
Bullet wound to left cheek, fractured left zygomatic bone, damage to nasal bridge and left ear from bullet.
Bullet wound to upper right chest, incomplete fracture of right clavicle.
Two bullets embedded in lower liver, entrance wound from the back. One bullet embedded in tissue surrounding rib 9. Hairline fractures to ribs 7 and 10, single complete fracture of rib 8, three complete fractures of rib 9. Tear of lower right lung, resulting in lung collapse.
Probable Cause of Death
Extreme damage to liver and right lung resulting in uncontrolled haemorrhaging and hypoxia, causing total organ failure and brain death.
- - - - -
Getting shot really, really hurt. How her daddy managed to walk off the bullet wounds his army friends said he did was even more impressive now Lisa knew just how much it hurt. Even with whatever medications were coming through the needle in her hand, her chest still burned, and her face still ached. She opened her eyes, tilting her head slightly to see the person sitting at her bedside. For a moment, she hoped it was her daddy, but the man beside her had white hair, not black, and his face was wrinkled and worn, much more than her dad’s.
The man didn’t seem to notice she was looking at him, instead busy with whatever he was holding. A long case, maybe. He held it in two hands, carefully drawing what was inside from the case. Lisa felt her jaw open in shock, because the man was holding a sword. How did he get it? He looked like he knew how to use it, and it was probably sharp, even though she couldn’t tell because of how dark her room was. Her breath sped up a little, and she could feel her heart pounding.
The man looked up, tilting his head from side to side before standing, putting the sword back in its case. He patted her arm, which twitched without her meaning for it to.
“Well kid, thanks for letting me hide out here. Sounds like those assholes have moved on, so I’ll be off. Have fun dying.”
Lisa’s heart jolted at his words, and she grabbed at his wrist before he could move away. She tried her hardest to glare at him, even with everything feeling sore and heavy. Her tongue sat uselessly in her mouth, but she tried to convey her feelings through her expression.
I’m not dead yet, asshole.
The man looked down at her grip on his wrist, and barked out a rough laugh.
“Well would you look at that. You’ve got a hell of a spark in you kid. The kind of damage to your body woulda knocked most folks out even without those drugs.”
He twisted his wrist out of her hold, her hand dropping uselessly back onto the bed.
“Good luck survivin’ then kid. See if you make it to the morning.”
He stepped out of her line of sight, and Lisa had to strain her ears to hear him open and shut the door, the slight strip of light disappearing as soon as it came. She swallowed weakly and felt the weights on her eyelids and chest grow. Her breath rattled, her heart pounded, and her mind slipped under.
- - - - -
“Kid made it through the night.”
“Huh. She ain’t on life support or nothing. Anything else?”
“Nothing being picked up, but she’s a DNR. Only thing she’s got is some meds to make her more comfortable. Hasn’t woken or anything though, so don’t get your hopes up.”
“Why’s a kid a DNR?”
“Do I look like I know?”
The voices trailed off as the speakers moved into the next room and Lisa cracked her eyes back open. She was just as sore as last night, but her head was clearer. She was lying horizontally on a bed, with opaque sheets pulled tight around her. Her mouth was dry, her tongue tacky as she traced it over her chapped lips. She turned her head to inspect the room. Finding it empty, and not able to hear anyone else, she carefully went to brace her hands against the bed to push herself up. Her left hand caught, and she realised it was resting in a sling, cradled to her chest. She shifted her weight to brace fully on her right arm and forced herself into a seated position.
Keeping an ear out in case the nurses returned, she lifted the thin material of the gown to look over her injuries. She couldn’t see her face, but she could see a large plaster over her collarbone, and tape wrapped around her right side. Gentle prodding revealed a similar plaster on her back, which likely had the same dark purple, yellow and green bruising that was painting her stomach. The same investigation revealed thin strips over her cheek and a band over both her nose and the top of her left ear.
“Well would you look at that, you did survive.”
Lisa jumped, then winced as that jarred her injuries. She hissed, then glared at the man from the night before, suddenly beside her again. She tried to ask him who he was, and what he was doing here, but all that came out was a weak croak. The man handed her a plastic cup, which she took before hesitantly drinking the water within. There was barely a mouthful, but it was enough to soothe the parchness of her throat. It also revealed that swallowing anything more than spit made the entire left side of her face light up in pain. The man wasn’t looking at her, gaze resting vaguely over her head. She frowned, but didn’t mention it.
“Who are you? Why are you here?” She asked.
“An inquisitive one, aren’tcha? You can call me Stick. And I’m here, because you’ve got a fire in ya I haven’t found in a while. Tell me, how long do you think you’ll last here?”
Lisa shifted to sit straighter, glaring at ‘Stick’.
“That’s a stupid name.” She told him bluntly. “And I’m not dead yet, am I?”
Stick laughed at that, the same barking sound he’d made the night before.
“There’s that fire. And sure you ain’t dead yet, but they’ve got you on the death list.”
“Death list?” She thought back to the nurses she’d overheard. “That the DNR?”
“Sure is. Means ‘Do Not Resuscitate’, which is fancy speech for the higher ups getting rid of bothersome civilians, like you.”
Lisa tensed. Surely Stick wouldn’t have just come by to make her aware of their intention to kill her, right?
“But I get the feeling you ain’t interested in that, huh?” Stick said, rising from the chair with a level of agility she hadn’t expected from someone his age (seriously, he looked, like, 100. Except without the frailness she’d expect from someone that old.). “Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t tend to be. I can getcha outta here, teach ya to fight so you never end up here,” He gestured to the room around them, “again. You wanna learn to survive?”
Lisa clenched her teeth. She thought about her mom, lying on the ground with blood pooling on her chest. She thought about Frankie, shot through the face, bloodied beyond recognition. She thought about her daddy, blocking her body with his own while he cradled her close. She thought about feeling his tears on her face, followed by blood as they shot him in the head, too. They’d killed her family, and now they wanted to kill her.
I’m not dead yet, assholes.
“I wanna learn.” She told Stick, and watched as his lip quirked upwards.
“Good.” He said, grabbing her arm and roughly pulling her to her feet. She yelped, gasping as he pulled the needle from her hand and placed a cloth over the top.
“First lesson,” He told her as he pulled her through the privacy curtains, ignoring her struggling behind him. “The mind controls the body. That pain you’re feeling? That’s your body. You ain’t your body. You’re your mind. And they can break your body, but they can’t break your mind. You get that?”
He stopped long enough for her to regain her footing under herself, rising as much as she could. She caught his eyes, cloudy and unfocused, and breathed through the pain in her gut and shoulder and face. She could still walk.
“Yes.”
“Good.” He told her gruffly, walking ahead, no longer supporting (dragging) her. “You can walk. Prove it.”
This was the first lesson. Lisa wouldn’t fail this early. She put one foot in front of the other, following as quickly as she could despite the pain, into a stairwell. By the time they’d find her bed empty, and assume she’d been moved to the morgue, she’d be in the backseat of a cab in an ill-fitted jacket, back to her home as it disappeared into the distance.
- - - - -
A few days later, Lisa picked up a copy of the New York Post, at Stick’s request. She didn’t ask why a blind man needed the paper, just bought it, met up with Stick outside the shop, and went back to the motel they were staying in. Stick took it from her as soon as they were inside, head tilted as he flipped to a section near the back. His hands traced over the page while his sightless gaze stared into her.
“Ain’t nobody notice a thing.” He told her, before passing her the paper. “You’re already good at bein’ a ghost. Now you’re an actual ghost too.”
She looked where he pointed, glowing under the praise. The section he’d passed to her wasn’t long, and she felt a cold stone settle in her gut as she read it. An obituary, written in honour of the war hero Frank Castle, and his family. Her name was listed between her mom’s and Frankie’s. She looked back up at Stick, tossing the paper to one side.
“They’re dead.” She said, somehow passing the lump in her throat trying to block the words. Stick scoffed.
“Course they are. You are too, now aren’t you?” Lisa clenched her fist at his words, raising her chin proudly. Even after a few days, she was getting good at ignoring the pain in her body.
“I’m not dead yet, asshole.” She snapped. Stick’s response was another laugh, and, without meaning to, Lisa relaxed. She wondered if she’d passed another test.
“Sure you ain’t. But to the world you are, kid, and that’s real useful for folks like us.”
“People like us?” She asked. Stick hadn’t mentioned anyone else yet, remaining stubbornly tight lipped. She assumed, now, that he was waiting until after this.
“Soldiers, Lis.” Stick told her. “We’re fighting a war most folks don’t even know’s happening.”
Her daddy was a soldier. Her daddy’s dead. Her daddy was killed.
“I’m not a soldier.” She announced. “I’m a weapon. I’m going to be the strongest weapon around.”
Stick had said that before. That they live in their minds, and their bodies are their strongest weapons.
“And you’re going to teach me.”
Stick watched her closely. “Yeah kid, I guess I am.”
- - - - - 1 year later - - - - -
They hadn’t returned to New York since they first left over a year ago, so to be back felt… odd. Lisa wasn’t the same kid that left in a taxi cab, naive and untrained and weak. Now, she was a ghost, a weapon, a warrior, growing into a soldier who could fight by Stick’s side in their war. She was stronger and smarter and all around better.
She patiently waited by Stick’s side as they scoped out the area that would be their home base for the duration of their stay. She’d been able to figure out that they were hunting down an important shipment, though the exact details evaded her, mainly due to Stick’s continued refusal to share more than the bare minimum. That didn’t matter though. Lisa would show him she was strong enough for his missions, that she could be useful in the field.
The problem was that Stick sidelined her as soon as they secured the base. And that was bullshit. Why bother training her if she was never able to use that training? So she ignored his order and headed out, keeping her senses sharp. She’d heard the rumours of ‘the Man in the Mask’, or, now, ‘the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen’. An elusive warrior, but one with incredible skill. Stick had told her the man was fighting his own war, that he wouldn’t help them. But he’d also called the man a “good fighter”, far higher praise than Lisa had ever gotten in her year under his tutelage. She didn’t know if she wanted him to find her or not. On the one hand, it would be really cool to see him in action. On the other hand, he was an unknown, and wasn’t one of them, so she didn’t want to risk him possibly trying to stop them. It wouldn’t work, but she didn’t want to disappoint Stick by being caught out.
All of their intel pointed towards the docks of Hell’s Kitchen. There wasn’t anything obvious happening, yet, so Lisa found a hidden spot, tucked in between three crates. It had a decent view of the surrounding area, but, more importantly, she’d be able to hear any voices or footsteps long before they got close to her. Here, she could meditate and focus clearly on her surroundings, rather than her body in its cramped position.
The mind controls the body.
Here, she could tune out the distractions and just focus on the important parts. Waiting for the shipment to come in, then, either wait for Stick, or, if he didn’t show, deal with the problem herself. She hadn’t killed yet, but Stick had given her live blades a few weeks back, so it shouldn’t be too hard. These weren’t innocents, after all, they were the enemy, the monsters who would kill innocent people just to get what they want.
(She ignored the voice in the back of her mind that sounded a lot like her mom, whispering about how seeing people get hurt, how hurting people, even people who wanted to hurt you, is hard. How her daddy was struggling to sleep because he was good, and wanted to do the right thing. That it’s only the bad who sleep peacefully knowing the harm they have caused. She had grown very good at silencing the voice that wondered if her mommy would think she was bad, now, too.)
It was another hour until there was some movement, and she shifted from her position to a better vantage point. Several men were moving around a shipping crate, one she’d noted before, and listening in she noted that they were speaking to people inside the surrounding shipping crates. She cursed herself for not thinking of that, it was a pretty smart way to hide an armed force, she had to admit. More men appeared from the surrounding area, and Lisa dropped down as low to the ground as she could. Her role here wasn’t to draw attention to herself, it was to be the backup, a surprise attack. Become part of the environment so that no one would look too closely.
A crane became visible over the land-bound crates as several black cars approached from the other side. A light blue crate swung off of the crane’s ship, being slowly lowered onto the dock. From where she hid in the shadows, she could only make out the larger characters, white script reading ‘Asano’. Likely, ‘Asano Robotics’, considering their information. Biting her lip, she carefully adjusted, slipping down the side of a crate and landing softly behind a stack of barrels behind where she’d initially hidden. From the smell, she assumed they were full of some kind of fish. The label cheerily informed her that within it was ‘Pickled Blue-fin”.
She slipped closer, slowly covering ground until she was maybe fifty feet from the closest guard. Her grip tightened around the knife resting in her hand. The dark blade was matte, absorbing light rather than reflecting it and potentially giving her position away. She slowed her breathing, calmed her heart, and glanced around one last time. She froze as she did so, catching sight of a familiar head of white hair parallel to her. She swallowed, even as he didn’t acknowledge her. He knew she was there, certainly. Was this another test? She rotated her wrist, holding the blade in front of her, prepared to take out the guard ahead, when a dark blur beat her to the punch.
If not for her training, she might have jumped, or made some other sound. Instead, she went stone still, watching as the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen swiftly took out each guard. Stick had told her to avoid him, that he wasn’t one of them. Now, watching the man move, she knew that couldn’t be true. Some of those moves, the way he stalked through the shadows, the way he was silent in his every move, was incredibly familiar. It made sense why Stick had spoken so confidently about him, he hadn’t just met him, but he’d trained him, like he’d trained her. The thought was followed by a pang of hurt. She’d been with Stick for the last year, and yet as soon as they actually got close to the action, he’d expected her to stay behind while he sought out an old student to help instead. Unless, this was another test? A way to determine if Lisa was good enough to fight with the other members of their side. The idea excited her. She could prove herself, here and now, and show she was ready to fight alongside him.
The crate hit the ground, and men moved to open it. Lisa moved with them, timing her footsteps to those of the people they expected to be there. She slipped out of the shadows and into the fight. Her first opponent hit the ground right as Stick’s arrow was knocked off course by their masked ally. She didn’t freeze, even as confusion threatened to force her to hesitate, continuing to slam the hilt of her blade into the heads of their enemies. She could have killed them, but the time it would take for them to bleed out would be well enough for them to fill her with bullets. The men grabbed the Black Sky, forcing it towards a car. Stick had disappeared, but Lisa could still make it. She ducked between the men, her knife whipping forward like a snake towards the thin neck of- of-
Of a boy with a dirty face and wide brown eyes. She hesitated. Instead of digging into soft flesh her knife dug into the forearm of one of the guards as he slammed his arm into her face. She twisted, falling and rising and staying close, close enough that they couldn’t use their guns. She knocked the bleeding man down, striking his face hard enough to break his nose while the car behind her peeled away.
“God fucking dammit!” She snapped, hitting the man again, this time grabbing the bloodied remains of his nose and twisting fiercely, ignoring the cry of pain he let out as his hands fell from her to the ground. She grabbed her knife from where it had fallen to the ground beside them and slashed down towards his throat.
“No!”
A heavy weight slammed into her back, forcing her knife down into the pec, not the throat. She slammed forward, dragging the knife through the man’s shoulder as she rolled back into a fighting stance. The Devil stood in front of her, hands raised as he separated her from her target. She growled at him, low in her throat, more frustration than threat. She tried to slip past him, but the fight didn’t seem to have tired him at all, allowing him to move with the same fluidity she’d noticed earlier. He caught her arm, forcing her to drop the knife as she ducked out of the grip.
“Kid,” He started, voice softer than she’d expected from a man who fought like that, and she tried to get around him again, this time throwing a feint at his legs, then rolling to the side. He avoided the feint easily, and caught her again, this time pulling her against his chest and holding her arms crossed by the wrist.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you. It’s okay. You’re safe. He can’t hurt you, alright? You’re safe now. It’s okay.”
He was trying to pacify her, she realised, and that just made her more angry. He thought she was some kid victim or something, lashing out instead of fighting a war he refused to. She kicked back, trying to bite his arm or catch a shin. Unfortunately, the asshole knew better than to let her feet anywhere near his legs, even as he carefully knelt down, dodging her attempted headbutts. Dammit this was what she’d been trying to avoid, getting herself caught like a dumb child and needing to be rescued.
Except Stick wasn’t around, probably chasing down the SUV with the Black Sky, leaving her alone to deal with the consequences of being caught. Her heart pounded at the thought. Stick had told her in excruciating detail exactly what their enemies would do to her if she messed up. Sure, the asshole hadn’t done anything yet, and he’d stopped Stick killing the Black Sky despite still beating the guards, but that didn’t mean he was against killing, it could just be that he didn’t want the Black Sky dead. Or any number of other reasons and Lisa was just sitting here, literally in the lap of a dangerous man she had no idea of the motives of.
“Let me go!” She snapped, throwing all of her weight against his arms. He didn’t let go, but he also didn’t tighten his grip, just moving with her momentum.
“Woah, careful, you can really hurt yourself if you do that.” He told her, like she didn’t know that. Like she didn’t know-
Wait.
Maybe… maybe he didn’t know who she was? If that was the case, then maybe she could play up the scared kid act and get back to their base before Stick.
“I’ll let you go, okay? But I need you to not try and hurt that man, or me, alright? He’s down. He won’t hurt you.” The man’s voice was still soft and soothing. If word on the street were to be believed, he didn’t hurt ‘victims’. Just assholes and criminals, and maybe people like her if he realised but he hadn’t, yet. She let her head drop into a nod, forcing the tension from her body. Her heart was still pounding, but a few deep breaths got it to slow down enough for her to think a little clearer. She opened her eyes wide enough for the cold night’s air to sting them, holding them open until they watered. She blinked rapidly as the man carefully released her hands, stepping back from behind her, hands still in front of him.
“I’m sorry for grabbing you like that. Are you hurt?” He asked, head tilted and mouth pulled down into a frown. Lisa shook her head and let out a soft whimper, as convincing as she could get it. She’d been told she was a good actor, and tears came easier than actual fear.
“N-no.” She said quietly, tears dripping down her face as she looked up at him with wide eyes. Nothing more than a few bruises that’d heal soon enough. The guy’s shoulders dropped slightly, and he let out a soft puff of air.
“Okay, that’s good. You got anyone I can call to come pick you up?” He asked, taking half a step back to give her more room. She shook her head again.
“Nobody.” She whispered, the honesty bringing back an old ache to her chest she’d not quite gotten rid of. “But I can get home on my own.”
Instead of looking reassured though, the man’s frown deepened.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He told her, and must have noticed her tense, because he quickly added,
“I’m not going to give you to the police or anything. But I would like to make sure you get home safe, if you’re okay with that. I don’t want to leave a kid on their own after tonight.”
Lisa’s heart sank. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy to get away. The guy stuck to Hell’s Kitchen, never leaving the 10 city blocks that made up the neighbourhood. Maybe she could catch a bus out to Queens, then make her way back by foot? But then she’d have to find Stick again, and he’d be annoyed because she was stupid enough to get herself caught and then take forever to get back. Or she could make a run for it. Grab her knife and book it. But he was fast, she’d seen that, and he was bigger than her and probably knew the area better. Dammit.
“Kid?” He asked again, waving his hand and offering a brittle smile. “If you don’t want me to come with you, can I at least walk you to the bus or something?”
“Can I have my knife back?” She asked with a glare. The smile slid off his face, and he shifted his weight slightly. He licked his lips before replying.
“Yes, but only if I can come with you. If you get anxious you can stab me then, right?” He cracked a slight grin and Lisa felt annoyance returning with a bubbling heat. Of course he didn’t think she could actually hurt him, to him she was ‘just a kid’.
“Fine.” She had no intention of actually staying with him, but if it got her knife back without having to worry about him, she’d give him this win. He didn’t seem to believe her, but handed her the blade hilt-first.
“Thanks.” She muttered, stepping forward to grab the hilt. Just as he let go, she moved, bringing her knee up directly into his crotch. He gasped, doubling over and giving her the opening she needed to run as fast as she could. Adrenaline heightened her senses and gave her speed, letting her duck through the docks and into the dark streets of Hell’s Kitchen without the Devil following her. She ducked into an underpass and waited, focussing on slowing her heart and breathing, ears strained to hear faint footsteps above or beside her. When none came, she slipped out, tugging her jacket higher over her face, and continued into the heart of the Kitchen.
- - - - -
Stick came back an hour after her. She was sitting on the floor of the musty motel room, meditating. Light enough that her eyes snapped open as soon as she heard the door handle rattle. Stick walked in, face bloodied and knuckles raw. Lisa’s jaw dropped and she rose quickly to her feet. Before she could speak, Stick gestured to her go-bag.
“Get your shit together kid.”
“What happened to you?” She asked, obediently grabbing the bag and pulling her jacket over her head.
“Just spoke with an old friend. Now come on.” He held the door open and she passed through before falling into step behind him.
“I’m leaving the city.” He told her. Lisa frowned.
“Okay? Where are we going then?”
“Need your ears checked kid? I said I’m leaving. You ain’t.” At this, Lisa stopped walking. Stick didn’t, just kept strolling casually until she caught back up to him.
“What? Why? Is this because I snuck out? Because I promise I can do better. Please, Stick, I can be useful!” Stick shook his head at her pleas.
“Damn it kid. This ain’t because you snuck out, it’s cause you ain’t got what it takes.” The words were like ice down her spine.
“What?” She whispered, clutching her backpack straps tightly.
“You hesitated. That hesitation’s gonna get you killed. Your training’s over. I can’t help you anymore.” Stick held up a hand to stop her talking.
“You’re not coming with me. Nah kid, you’re gonna stay with my old friend. Matty’ll take care of ya.” He told her. Lisa stared at his face, bloodied and bruised.
“Did Matty do that to you?” She asked cautiously. Stick laughed, barked out and far too amused for the situation. Lisa didn’t understand.
“Sure did. But you ain’t gotta worry about that. Matty’s gone soft like you.” He stopped in front of an alley, gesturing to the fire escape on the side of a tall brick building.
“You can get up to the roof from there. Matty’s apartment's through the south door.” He turned to walk away and Lisa grabbed at his arm.
“Stick please-” She started, confusion and fear curdling her stomach. “You can’t be serious!”
“Deathly.” He drawled, easily breaking her grip and striking the nerve point that would disable her whole arm none-too gently. “Nah, kid, I can’t teach you anything else.”
“You can! I’ll train harder, I’ll take care of myself, I can-”
“Bye kid. Maybe I’ll see you later.”
“Stick!”
He waved and rounded the corner. In the few steps it took her to reach it, he’d disappeared. Lisa stood frozen at the corner, looking down streets as empty as her heart. Her mind filled with static as she stood, staring, until quiet steps behind her, intentionally scuffing the ground, caused her to look back.
“Hey, kid.” The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen said. “You look cold. Wanna go inside?”