The Broken City

Chapter One

Carla sat on the the ledge, her legs dangled over the edge. Her hands gripped the stone tightly. Hot tears ran down her face as she hesitated to push herself off the edge. She let out a quiet whimper inching herself closer to the edge. She tried to find reasons to pull herself off the edge but she couldn't. She was alone in the world. She had no family. Her friends did not seem like friends at all. She rarely spoke to any of them unless they wanted free tickets to a show or for her to dog sit. The last time she asked them to go someplace she sat at the restaurant alone for three hours before leaving. And now she had no job.

Carla had been working in a theatre. About a month previous there was a strike night and conveniently the only other person working costumes came up sick. But trying her hardest to be a professional Carla hid her real feelings and did all the work herself. But on her way home, after spending three and a half hours putting away costumes, she ran into this girl that had claimed to be sick. The girl was laughing and drinking inside a local bar. Carla slipped into the bar and watched the girl for a moment before approaching her. "You look great for a girl who could leave her bathroom earlier." Carla spoke rather loudly. The girl, Cameron, froze in fear. Carla sucked her tongue against her teeth in disgust. "Oh, uh hi Carla." Cameron said trying to find a way to fix the situation. Carla folded her arms and just looked at Cameron. Cameron shrunk a bit under Carla's stare. Carla ripped into Cameron about bailing on her responsibilities when the man who owned the theatre, David Taylor, returned to stool beside Cameron. "Why are you berating Cam?" He asked in a serious tone. "Because she totally bailed on strike leaving me to do all of the work." Taylor sucked in sharply through his nose, "That's all?" Carla have a confused look. Taylor asked Cameron, "How badly has she upset dear?" Carla's rage was reaching critical mass. Cameron babbled out something along the lines of not that badly. Taylor nodded slowly, considering the situation. Carla bit her lip in an attempt to control her temper. Taylor looked directly into Carla's eye and said, "I think you have a promotion coming Cameron." Cameron turned and looked at Taylor. "Congratulations Cam you are the new head of costumes. Carla you need to clear your shit out of Cameron's office by the start of the rehearsal tomorrow." Carla stood aghast hearing those words come out of his mouth. "And by the way Carla," Taylor paused to take a drink, "because you fucked up this nice evening with your bullshit so don't expect to find work anywhere in New York City." Carla felt her stomach twist and drop when he spoke those words. She turned to leave when she heard Taylor say, "My theatre will be much prettier without that fat, fugly shrew working there." Carla wanted to turn around and break that pretentious prick's nose and then feed him his testicles but she knew that would only lead her to jail. So she just pretended that she didn't hear him and left. Carla attempted to find work at several theatres around the city but they all told her they would never hire her.

So after a month of searching for a job Carla was still jobless. Her rent was due and she barely had enough to feed herself for the rest of the week. Her life had went to complete shit and she was done. Her tears had stopped flowing and she knew it was time. Carla took a deep breath, closed her eyes, tensed her arms to push when an arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her back onto the safety of the roof. She fell on her hip with a heavy thud. Carla rolled onto her feet. Her whole being was filled with rage and she lashed out at the person who pulled her back. She threw a haymaker and connected to the nose of the other person. 'Why the fuck did you do that!?" Carla screamed. The person stood up and wiped their nose. Carla started to throw another punch when her hand was grabbed. She was spun to the ground and the person, a man, stood over her. His nose was still bleeding both internally and from the cut where Carla's punch landed. Carla studied the man's face. His hair was black and partially shaved. His brow was in a partial scowl. His back was to the streetlights but Carla could make out the white in the skull on his vest. "Holy shit you're the Punisher." She spoke louder than she meant to. Frank nodded in response. "Why did you stop me?" Carla asked. Frank stepped back, wiped his nose and spoke, "If you had jumped cops would be all over the street and this roof would have been compromised." "Who are you after?" "Scum, lady." Frank turned away from Carla. Carla stood slowly. She waited until she thought Frank was far enough away and ran to the building's ledge. Frank grabbed her shirt and threw her backwards. Carla let out a wail that echoed through the night air. "You just don't know when to stop, do you?" Frank said. Carla broke down and sobbed. She covered her face with her hands. She hated crying in front of others. She felt like she was weak and that she was being ridiculous. Frank did his best to ignore her and return to his original task. He looked down the scope of his rifle. In that moment the roof door burst open. Three men with guns emerged, two attacked Frank while one went after Carla. The man that came after Carla fired three rounds at her. She managed to dodge all of them while running behind a chimney. She heard the grunts and yells from Frank and the other two men. Carla knew he was too busy to help her, so it was all on her. Finding her courage she waited for the man to round the corner. As he rounded the corner she put the man in an arm wrap. She managed to drop the clip from the gun and after a few well place knees to the wrist got the gun away from the man. She popped the round in the chamber and threw the gun away. The man tackled her. He started a hail of punches to her face and chest. Carla did her best to block them but she got hit more than not. In a last ditch effort to save herself she used all of her strength to throw the man off of her. He caught air before hitting the roof hard. Carla rolled over on top of the man and threw some hard elbows to his temple. Before she could finish her assault on the man Frank stumbled around the corner and put a round into the man's head. Carla leapt backwards covered in the man's blood. Her eyes were wide but she never made a sound. Frank leaned against a wall bleeding profusely. His face was bruised from his fight. Carla could see he got winged on the arm. "Not bad, lady." Frank said with a slight laugh in his voice. Carla gave him a twitch of a smile before standing. "I have some stuff that can help with that." She pointed at his arm. Frank shrugged before passing out. Carla rushed to him where she found a stab wound on his side. The blade managed to slip between the two half's of the vest he was wearing. Carla grabbed Frank by his wrists and drug him to the roof access door. Once they were inside the building it she bear hugged him and pulled him down the two flights of stairs, then drug him by the wrists into her apartment. She pulled him into her kitchen and proceeded to take off his coat and the vest that had failed to protect him. The wound was not as deep as she thought it was but still was bleeding badly. She grabbed a towel and began sopping up the blood in the wound, trying to see if the knife nicked a vein or artery. Thankfully it hadn't so she could stitch him up herself and wouldn't have to explain why the Punisher laid dead in her apartment. Carla pressed the towel hard onto the wound. She looked around for something to hold it in place. She had no choice but to used Frank's own belt to hold in place. She wrestled his belt off of him and snaked it around his torso. She pulled it tight against him, pinning the towel in place. Carla ran to her bathroom and grabbed her first aid kit and rubbing alcohol before grabbing her sewing kit. She dumped it all in the floor beside Frank. She pulled a plastic bowl out of the cupboard above the sink and rushed back to start her work. She poured some alcohol into the bowl. She grabbed a spool of white thread and unwound a significant amount before cutting it and dropping it in the bowl. She removed the towel and belt. More blood oozed out of the wound. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She whispered trying not to alert her neighbors. She grabbed a needle and threaded it with the alcohol soaked thread. She had watched enough people and animals get stitches that she knew how, at least in theory. She put nine stitches into his side before closing the hole in his side. Carla covered the wound with antibacterial cream and gauze. She surveyed the rest of his body and found four more wounds that needed stitches. She spent the better part of an hour stitching Frank up. She may not have been a doctor but she managed to close him up. Carla pulled Frank to her couch. She lifted his upper half onto it first than his lower half. Out of instinct or habit she covered him with a blanket. After trying to makes him comfortable she turned her attention to the mess in her kitchen. A large pool of blood covered her floor. Surrounding it were the wrapping for all the gauze and tape she used to patch Frank up. She grabbed that first throwing it in the garbage before turning her attention to the blood. Carla grabbed a few rags from under the sink and started to soak up the blood. Then there was a knock on her door, "NYPD, open up." "Shit!" She said to herself. She looked down at herself and realized she was covered in blood. In an instant she stripped down to her underwear and ran to grab a robe. She checked her face in the mirror. There was still spray from the man on the roof on it. She wiped it off as best as she could. The officer at the door was growing more and more impatient. Carla rushed back to the door, took a deep breath and opened it. "Hello officer. What can help you with?" "Ma'am were you aware of the shooting that just took place on your roof?" Feigning innocence Carla spoke, "What? Oh my god there was a shooting on the roof? I had my earbuds in for the last hour or so." The officer studied her face. "Ma'am are you aware there is blood on your face?" Carla's heart raced, "No I was not." She wiped at her face. The officer pushed her door open revealing the blood pool on her floor. "Do you want to explain this?" The officer asked. Carla laughed nervously, "Um, yeah. Well, you see," she sputtered, "my boyfriend wanted a little roll in the hay but I'm, uh, on my period so we-" The officer waved his hands indicating that he didn't want to hear anything else. Carla bit her lip nervously. "Did your boyfriend hear anything?" The officer asked. "Are you kidding? A bomb couldn't wake that man up after we fool around. He tells me I'm better than Ambien." Carla did her best to make the officer uncomfortable. The officer handed his card and said, "Look if either of you remember something call. I'll let you get back to your, uh, cleaning." Carla watched the officer shiver out of disgust before going to the next door. Carla breathed a huge sigh of relief after she closed and locked the door. It took Carla an hour to clean up the mess in the kitchen. She checked on Frank to be sure he was still alive. She took his pulse, strong and steady. Carla mustered all of her remaining energy to get in the shower. The hot water felt great on her skin. Her body began to relax for the first time in a week. She finished her shower in time to hear Frank come to. Carla grabbed her robe and returned to the living room. Frank was sitting up assessing his injuries. He turned to face Carla when he heard the floor creak. "Better than Ambien huh?" Frank asked with a small grin. "Eat me it kept your ass out of jail didn't it?" Carla replied still pissed at him. "You know you fought pretty hard to stay alive after those scumbags showed up. Especially for a woman who was ready to end it." Carla tightened her jaw, "I want to be the one to chose how I go. Not some idiot with a gun." Frank just grunted in reply. Carla's anger soared to new heights. "Don't act like you did me a favor alright? Sure you stopped me from jumping but you didn't save me." "Why save me then, if you're so pissed at me for saving your sorry ass?" Frank fired back. "I couldn't have your death on my conscience. If I had leapt off that roof without making sure you lived I'd be just as responsible for your death as the asshole who stabbed you. When I go I need my conscience to be clear." Frank's lip twitched. "So thanks." He mumbled under his breath. "You know what fuck you! I stuck my neck out for you twice tonight. That should be fucking thanks enough. All you did was damn me to a life on the streets and a slow painful death." Frank set his jaw and just stared at Carla. "My rent is due tomorrow and I don't even have enough money to feed myself for the rest of the week. So excuse me for not singing your praises." Frank took a moment before standing. He steadied himself before taking a few steps towards the door. "Where are you going?" Carla asked exasperated. "Leaving." Frank replied. "No you're not." Carla blocked his path to the door. "You lost a lot of blood and this place is still crawling with cops. You're not going anywhere." Frank looked into Carla's eyes. He realized she wasn't going to budge. He returned to the couch and laid back down. "I'm going to bed." Carla said while heading to her bedroom. Frank couldn't help but laugh when she stopped and said, "Don't bleed on my couch."