𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 → frank castle

fourteen.

She had two of Frank's neighbours in the meatpacking district.

Now, the problem Dave was facing is that he had a majority of his face pierced. A lip ring, a septum, the one above his brows. You name it, he had it. So as he was sitting there, in front of these burly men he couldn't help but sweat.

Especially considering the tray behind them had hardware tools. Joan, on the other hand, was a middle-aged woman. She sat there, remembering the events of earlier.

She was tidying the living room. As much as she liked Tamara, she was a sloppy teenager in her eyes, despite Tamara constantly reminding her she was 24 in a month or so. She heard an urgent knock at the door.

Maybe it was Frank she had thought. So she opened it, and there stood a slender woman, quite aged. Her skin was tanned, and she had her jet black hair scraped into a high ponytail, which reached her waist.

She looked quite ridiculous to Joan. Especially with the knee high boots, leather trench coat and poorly done Botox. If anything, it made her look much older.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes you can. Have you seen a John Smith anywhere?"

Joan's brow furrowed, then she remembered that was Frank's name he had rented the apartment in. She wondered why he had picked that name.

"Nope. Sorry. Take care now." Joan said, closing the door. Without a second to spare, Isabella wedged her foot in the door frame and grinned. "I'm with the FBI ma'am." She said, taking out a badge. "You mind if we come in and check around? I'm sure a woman like you doesn't have anything to hide."

She smiled. Baring her teeth. Joan grimaced, as she spotted the traces of red lipstick on her front teeth.

"Sure." She said, exasperated. Stepping aside, as the three walked in. Immediately, Isabella began to pull apart the belongings scattered around the apartment, as Joan watched arms folded.

She watched her go from calm, to agitated. She started yanking on the curtains.

"Do you mind?" Joan asked, circling on Isabella.

She felt something solid and minuscule press up against her stomach.

"I know you smuggled Castle and that girl." She hissed. "You better tell me before I plant this bullet inside of you."

Undeterred, Joan stared down Isabella.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. And I'm pretty sure FBI agents don't do whatever this is." She said, agitated as she gestured to the guards behind her.

"I really thought we could've got along there." Isabella sighed. "But I guess you want to play the hard way."

She hammered the butt of the pistol onto her head, causing a single spike of pain.

"You're going to call her right now."

"Call who?"

"You know exactly who I'm talking about." She seethed.

And with that, Joan felt her legs give away. She collapsed onto the ground.

•••

"I have no idea how this is gonna pan out." Frank said, one hand on the wheel.

"That's reassuring." Tamara replied, putting her feet up on the dashboard.

"Hey, don't do that." Frank snapped.

"Huh?"

"You heard me, get your feet off the dashboard."