The basement was quiet. The Punisher, Frank Castle, suddenly opened his eyes. His head throbbed faintly. He remembered being ambushed from behind. That damn Assassin had accomplices. He had been far too careless.
There was suddenly some noise by the door. He instinctively reached for his weapons, only to find that both his compound bow and gun were gone. He tensed his muscles instead. But the person who entered was a somewhat slender black-haired youth.
When he turned around, The Punisher froze for a moment. The other man had exceptionally clear blue eyes and looked nothing like an Assassin. He was more like a pampered young master from a wealthy family.
"Hello, sir. Are you all right?"
Only then did The Punisher realize that his head was wrapped in bandages. He lightly touched the back of his head. It hurt a little, but he did not feel any bleeding or dizziness, which meant his injury was not serious.
"I'm sorry we had to bring you here this way, but we truly weren't trying to kidnap you," the youth across from him explained. "It's a little complicated. You can eat this first, and we can talk slowly."
The other man handed him some food. The Punisher accepted it with one hand, but his eyes remained fixed on the youth without blinking. "What's your name?"
"Just call me Bruce." He sat in the chair to the right of the small table beside the bed, dumped all the food he had bought from the supermarket bag onto the table, picked through it, then took a sandwich and a carton of milk and began eating on his own.
Watching the way he ate, The Punisher became even more certain: this guy had to be some rich young master. This cheap supermarket convenience food was