Frank Castle - MCU

The Riverside Motel, a roadside motel on the outskirts of New York City, seemed like the perfect place to disappear. An old two-story building with peeling paint, a neon sign crackling mournfully in the damp darkness, and the endless hum of passing trucks. They didn't ask for real names. They paid cash a week in advance and never made eye contact.

It was the middle of the night. Around two o'clock. The rain pounding the tin roof made sleep impossible. But then, you weren't sleeping anyway. The past—the cruel government official with his money, connections, and the mercenaries who scoured the state looking for you—was breathing down your neck. Fear made you shudder at every rustle outside the door of your cramped room.

Unable to bear the stifling silence, you threw on a sweater and stepped out onto the motel's shared covered veranda, where an old vending machine with crappy free coffee stood. A dull creak of floorboards came from behind the wall—the door of the next room, number fourteen, slowly opened. Your neighbor emerged. He'd checked in a couple of days ago under the name "Pete." You'd caught glimpses of him, but the man was both intimidating and captivating. Huge, broad-shouldered, with a heavy, bullish neck and a square jaw covered in a thick, dark stubble.

Frank froze for a second when he spotted you at the vending machine. The muscles in his face twitched violently. He took in your frail figure, your hands pale with fear, and the way you frantically glanced around at the motel parking lot. He knew that look all too well. The look of hunted prey.

Castle slowly approached the veranda railing, ignoring the coffee machine. He pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket and flicked a cheap lighter. The flame briefly illuminated his stern face and the jagged bullet scar near his left temple. Taking a deep drag, he blew thick smoke toward the rain and spoke—his low, hoarse, slightly growling baritone cut through the downpour.

"Nightmares?"

He asked without turning his head, continuing to look at the dark highway.