Chapter 23: The Recruitment of Frank Castle

The Storm Chaser drifted quietly in orbit, its sleek design almost invisible against the black void of space. Max walked through the corridors, his footsteps echoing in the otherwise silent ship. He had spent months thinking about the next steps, meticulously planning every detail. Now, it was time to make his move.

The ship was nearly ready, stocked with advanced technology, weaponry, and resources, but one crucial element was missing: a crew. Max needed soldiers, but not just any soldiers. He needed loyalty, competence, and, most importantly, individuals who had nothing left to lose. After careful consideration, Max had decided to recruit veterans, specifically those who had been cast aside, wounded in battle, or otherwise discarded by the very country they had sworn to protect.

Walking through the dimly lit halls of the Storm Chaser, Max found himself in the medical bay, specifically the cloning section. The room was sterile, lined with equipment designed for advanced biological processes far beyond anything Earth had developed. A soft hum filled the air as the various machines hummed with life. Max stood in front of the cloning pods, staring at the dormant technology.

The Asgard—the Stargate Asgard, or SG-Asgard, as Max had come to call them to avoid confusion with the Norse gods of Marvel's world—had perfected this technology over millennia. Their survival had hinged on their ability to transfer their consciousness from one cloned body to another, indefinitely extending their lives. While Max had no need for such drastic measures, the technology still had its uses. Cloning body parts, regenerating lost limbs—this was the key to his plan.

Max rubbed his temples, the familiar throb of a headache creeping up. The existence of multiple Asgards—SG-Asgard and the Marvel Asgardians—still gave him migraines. "Too many universes, too many pantheons," Max muttered to himself. But that was the least of his concerns. He had a mission, and that mission required precision.

He glanced at the tablet in his hand, where he had compiled a video—a carefully constructed narrative, built from memories of his previous life. It was a strange feeling, knowing that these events had never happened in this world but remembering them as vividly as if they had. The video was part of his pitch, a way to show Frank Castle the horrors that lay ahead. But more than that, it was a way to earn his trust.

Max turned on his heel and made his way to the cockpit. It was time to make his move.

A few hours later, Max stood outside a modest two-story home in the quiet suburbs of New York City. The neighborhood was peaceful, with neatly trimmed lawns, picket fences, and children playing in the streets. It was the kind of place where Frank Castle might have found peace, had things turned out differently.

Max adjusted the collar of his jacket, his mind racing as he prepared for what came next. This was a delicate situation. Frank Castle was no ordinary man—he was a soldier, a father, a husband. But above all, he was a man who had endured unimaginable loss. Max knew what Frank's future held, the tragedies that would unfold, and the rage that would consume him. But he also knew that Frank could be the key to building the crew he needed.

Max approached the door and knocked. A moment later, the door opened, revealing a woman in her mid-thirties with warm brown eyes and a welcoming smile. Maria Castle.

"Can I help you?" she asked, her voice polite but cautious.

Max cleared his throat. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Castle. I'm here to speak with Frank. Is he home?"

Maria's eyes narrowed slightly, her protective instincts kicking in. "And who are you?"

"My name's Max. I... work in a very specialized field, and I have some information that Frank might find interesting. It's important that I speak with him."

Before Maria could respond, the sound of a car door closing caught her attention. Frank Castle stepped up the driveway, holding grocery bags in one hand, his two children—Lisa and Frank Jr.—running ahead of him.

"Who's this, Maria?" Frank asked as he approached, his eyes scanning Max with the precision of a man trained to assess threats at a moment's notice.

Max smiled, trying to appear non-threatening. "Frank, my name's Max. I know this is sudden, but I have something you need to see. Something that concerns your future."

Frank's expression darkened, the wariness in his eyes deepening. "My future? What the hell are you talking about?"

Max held up a hand. "I know this sounds crazy, but if you give me ten minutes, I can explain everything. Just hear me out."

Frank glanced at Maria, then back at Max. There was a tension in the air, a palpable sense of danger, but something in Max's demeanor must have convinced Frank to give him a chance.

"All right," Frank said, setting the groceries down inside the door. "Let's talk."

Max and Frank sat in Maria's small home office, the door closed behind them. The walls were lined with books, family photos, and various knick-knacks that gave the room a warm, lived-in feel. Frank sat across from Max, his arms crossed, eyes narrowed.

"Start talking," Frank said, his voice hard.

Max took a deep breath and placed the tablet on the desk between them. "What I'm about to show you... it's going to be hard to believe. But it's the truth. And it's something you need to know if you want to protect your family."

Frank's jaw tightened. "My family? What do you know about my family?"

Max tapped the screen, and the video began to play. It was a compilation of footage from Max's memories, carefully edited to show the key moments of Frank Castle's tragic future—the massacre.

Max had pieced together the scene from his memories of the Punisher series, the brutal ambush in Central Park where Frank's wife, Maria, and their children, Lisa and Frank Jr., were gunned down in a hail of bullets meant to silence Frank for good.

Frank's eyes were glued to the screen, his face a mask of cold fury. Max could see the pain in his eyes, the barely contained rage simmering just below the surface.

There was a second file with images and documents of corrupt military officials and drug smuggling operations. A Few videos were also there, which show, how some soldiers body were cut open and filled with bags full of drugs.

"Where did you get this?" Frank demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

"I have access to information that... let's just say it's not from this world," Max said carefully. "I know what happens to you, Frank. I know the people responsible. This attack on your family? It's orchestrated by your superiors—people you trusted. They're using soldiers to smuggle drugs into the U.S., and when you started asking questions, you became a liability. This is how they plan to deal with you."

Frank's fists clenched, the knuckles turning white. "You expect me to believe that?"

Max leaned forward, his voice steady. "I don't expect you to believe it. I expect you to know it. You've seen enough to know how dirty the system is. You've seen what happens to men who ask the wrong questions. All I'm doing is showing you the truth."

Frank stared at the screen, his breathing heavy, his mind racing. Max could see the war going on inside him—the need to protect his family versus the need for justice, for revenge.

"There's more," Max said quietly.

Frank looked up, his eyes narrowing. "What do you mean, more?"

Max stood and picked up a book from the nearby shelf. He held it in his hand for a moment, then closed his eyes. With a thought, the book shimmered and transformed, its pages folding in on themselves until, in its place, stood a small, fluffy puppy, wagging its tail.

Frank's eyes widened, shock and confusion flickering across his face.

"I'm not just some guy with information," Max said softly. "I have powers. Abilities that go far beyond what you can imagine. And I can help you."

Frank was silent, his gaze shifting between the puppy and Max. The disbelief was evident, but so was the curiosity.

Max let the puppy dissolve back into the book and set it on the desk. "I'm offering you a way out, Frank. A way to protect your family. I can hide them—somewhere safe, where no one can touch them. You'll have access to them whenever you want, and you'll know they're safe while you do what needs to be done."

Frank's jaw worked as he processed Max's words. "And what do you want in return?"

Max smiled slightly. "I need soldiers. Men who've been left behind, discarded. I have the technology to heal them, to give them back what they've lost—limbs, mobility, purpose. I want you to lead them. Train them. Turn them into a force that can take down the people responsible for all of this."

Frank leaned back in his chair, his mind working through the implications. "You're talking about something big. Something... dangerous."

Max nodded. "I am. But it's the only way to stop what's coming. And the only way to give your family a chance at a normal life again."

The silence stretched between them for what felt like an eternity. Finally, Frank spoke.

"All right. I'll do it."

Max's smile widened. "Good. Then we need to make a few arrangements. First, I want you to send the video evidence we have to someone you trust—someone who can put pressure on the right people. I assume you know Nick Fury?"

Frank nodded. "Yeah, I know him."

"Good. Send him the evidence and request an immediate discharge from the military. It'll keep you out of their sights for now."

Frank stood, his expression hard but resolute. "I'll do it. But you better keep your end of the deal."

Max met his gaze. "I will. Your family will be safe. You have my word."