My Marvel Reincarnation Came with a Torture Bonus

"Run!" Frank Castle was never one to be indecisive.

The moment he saw the dozen armed gangsters storming in, he knew exactly how bad the situation was.

Without wasting a second, he spun on his heel and bolted into the alley.

Val didn't need to be told twice.

"Yeah, no shit!" he muttered, immediately following behind Frank. He had no intention of facing that many guns alone—he might heal, but that didn't mean getting shot didn't hurt. And he really wasn't in the mood to spend the next few minutes playing 'how many bullets can my body absorb before I pass out from pain?'

The two weaved through the narrow alley, bypassing the smoldering ruins of the warehouse before taking a sharp turn at a fork.

Behind them, the chaotic sound of footsteps echoed, like a pack of rabid dogs locked onto their scent. The walls of the alley felt like they were closing in, the darkness amplifying the suffocating tension.

Then, suddenly—

Frank stopped. His eyes flicked toward the shadows ahead, sharp and calculating.

Without a word, he pulled out his M1911A1 and raised it in a practiced stance.

Val barely had time to process before figures emerged from the darkness, their guns raised.

Unfortunately for them, their executioner happened to be standing next to Val.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The alleyway exploded with gunfire. The modified M1911A1 roared like a beast, its muzzle flashing in the dark. Bullet casings hit the ground with sharp metallic clinks as Frank fired with ruthless precision.

The first attacker's head snapped back, blood misting the air before his body crumpled to the pavement. The second barely had time to register what was happening before a bullet tore through his skull. The third managed to flinch before he, too, was dropped like a sack of bricks.

The deafening shots echoed, reverberating through the alley like a war drum.

A war drum that just signaled the start of something much, much bigger.

Because the moment those bodies hit the ground—

RATATATATATA!!

Automatic rifle fire erupted from behind them.

Bright muzzle flashes lit up the alleyway as bullets tore through the air, ricocheting off walls and embedding into brick and concrete. Sparks danced in the darkness, illuminating the chaos in a way Val almost found… beautiful.

If it wasn't for the fact that he was currently being used as target practice.

Both he and Frank instantly dove for cover, pressing against the recessed walls on either side of the alley. The sheer volume of gunfire pinned them down, the deafening roar drowning out everything else.

And then—

More footsteps.

From the other end of the alley.

Val's stomach dropped.

He took a quick glance outside and immediately ducked back, narrowly avoiding a bullet to the face.

"Well," he said, exhaling slowly, "I have good news and bad news."

Frank reloaded his gun without looking up. "Just say it."

"Good news: We're really popular."

Frank's jaw clenched. "And the bad news?"

Val peeked out again, counting the silhouettes closing in.

"We're really popular."

Val looked at Frank on the opposite side and called out over the gunfire, "What's the plan?"

Frank reloaded his M1911A1, deadpan as ever. "Next is getting out of here alive."

Val gave a dramatic nod. "Ah, a classic. Simple. Effective."

Gritting his teeth, Val pulled out his Glock 17. He couldn't help but think—he really should have prepared a few more C4s. Bullets whizzed past, shattering bricks mere inches from his head. He ducked lower. "Can't say I love our odds, though."

Frank didn't respond. Instead, he yanked a smoke grenade from his belt, pulled the pin, and tossed it. Within seconds, thick gray smoke filled the alley, cloaking them in a dense fog.

Hearing the gunshots outside pause, Frank immediately rushed out. Val followed immediately, far less cautious, moving with reckless confidence. Unlike Frank, he didn't need to worry about stray bullets—he'd survive them. It was just annoying.

The gangsters barely had time to react before two shadows emerged from the fog.

"Shit, they're he—"

That was as far as the guy got before Frank put two bullets through his skull.

Another gangster managed to dodge—only for Frank to be on him in an instant, gripping his neck with one hand and pressing a gun under his jaw.

BANG.

The guy hit the ground in a heap, minus a good portion of his head.

Val, watching from a few feet away, exhaled slowly. Yeah. That's the Punisher, alright.

Just as he was about to refocus, he caught the faintest rush of air.

He turned—

And promptly got whacked in the face by the butt of a rifle.

"Son of a—" Val stumbled forward, blinking stars out of his vision. He turned, only to be met with the muzzle of a gun aimed right at his head.

BANG!

Silence. The gangster stared, mouth slightly open.

He saw Val falling backwards but suddenly stopped, as if he tensed his body to forcibly resist the momentum of the bullet, putting up a strange half-bent posture.

'B-But I-I-I obviously shot him in the head. How could he still be standing?' At this moment, Val's body in front of him slowly straightened up once again.

Under the man's horrified gaze, Val smiled like a maniac as the blood from his wound dripped down his face.

"Oh my," Val murmured, his voice eerily calm, "you seem surprised."

The gangster didn't move. His hands trembled slightly around the gun.

Val reached up, wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, and tilted his head.

Then, with smooth precision, he lifted his Glock and pulled the trigger.

The gangster barely processed the sound before the bullet tore through his skull.

The man wanted to imitate Val's astonishing maneuver, but failed and fell down neatly.

Val crouched down, tapping his fingers against the man's cheek.

"Come on," he muttered, watching the body remain still. "Try harder. Maybe you can do it too."

Unsurprisingly, the guy did not miraculously resurrect.

Val sighed in disappointment and turned his head to Frank—who was already done wiping out the rest of his opponents. Frank gave him one long, unreadable look.

Val clapped his hands together. "Not gonna lie, I'm feeling pretty cool right now."

Frank rolled his eyes and turned away.

The alley was finally clearing. The smoke was thinning. They needed to move.

The two pushed forward, finally breaking toward the alley's exit—

Then the roar of a engine cut through the night. "Oh, come on."

Two gangsters on a motorcycle burst into the alley. The one on the back raised a submachine gun and opened fire.

Bullets shredded through the air, forcing them back into cover.

Their intention was clear. They weren't getting out.

Frank narrowed his eyes. He had been in plenty of fights, but this level of persistence was something else.

He cast a glance at Val.

"…What exactly did you do?"

Val peeked around the corner, dodging a bullet. "I dunno, man! Just killed some of their guys, blew up a building—" He paused, thinking back there were too many pork hanging in the warehouse. "Oh."

Frank narrowed his eyes. "Oh?"

Val swallowed. "…I may have blown up something important."

Frank turned back toward the oncoming gangsters, exhaling slowly.

"Of course you did."