Chapter 83: When the Punisher Becomes Good

"Can you find her specific information?" George asked his subordinate officer.

"We consulted Vice Principal Morton at Central High School, and he provided us with some information," the officer reported to George Stacy.

"Helen is a biology teacher transferred from New Jersey, aged twenty-seven, currently single, and this mansion should be her private property," the officer continued.

Detective Davoff interrupted their conversation, "Have you contacted this Ms. Helen?"

"No, we haven't been able to reach her by phone or any other means, and she hasn't been to the school either," the officer responded.

George frowned at the news. "Is she missing?"

"But so far, we haven't found any bodies here," the officer replied.

Davoff's sharp eyes scanned the rubble building, then turned to George and Captain Castle.

"Or should we continue excavating these rocks and soil?" Davoff asked.

George didn't say anything, feeling that things weren't as simple as they seemed.

The newcomer, Castle, looked solemnly at the building in front of him.

He walked to a pile of buried rocks, searched for a moment, and pulled out a corroded vine.

Staring at the corroded vines and the heavily damaged building on the scene, he had a vague guess in his heart.

After a moment, he turned his gaze to the building on his left.

Putting away the vines, he walked straight to the building.

Seeing his demeanor, George turned to his partner.

Davoff shrugged, "Maybe he found something. Let's follow."

On the rooftop of the building, Castle and the others looked at the messy ground with cracks.

It was obviously another crime scene.

George looked at Castle, who was analyzing the scene seriously, and turned to Davoff.

"He seems capable," George said.

Davoff nodded in agreement with George's assessment, "Of course, he's always been the most capable one."

The car sped down the street, splashing a few drops of rain.

Frank Castle drove the car towards the police station.

He was pondering the clues found at the scene all the way.

Spider-Man, unknown forces, these things made his expression more serious.

Feeling the slight bumpiness, he gripped the steering wheel tightly.

Castle didn't like to talk while driving.

Driving gave him a feeling that nothing else could match; he was immersed in it.

The road stretched out before them like a black and white photograph, and the speedometer twitched, showing the speed just reached sixty miles per hour.

Frank Castle, from a broken family.

When he was twelve, his father's gas station went bankrupt due to poor management.

The family, originally Sicilian immigrants, lost their income, and life became difficult.

In his teenage years, he became violent and combative, liking to solve problems with his fists.

Later, when he got a car, he became even more reckless.

The car became his slave and his god.

It could give and take away his bad mood.

He had many experiences like this. On sleepless nights when his parents quarreled, Castle would take popcorn and drive to chase stray dogs.

Some mornings, he would turn off the engine, let the car slide into the garage he built behind the house, with blood still dripping from the front bumper.

But all this changed after he retired.

Now Castle had completely abandoned violence.

He no longer believed in so-called superheroes or vigilantes.

In his view, those guys who punished criminals were just another kind of criminals.

Holding onto "procedural justice," his only thought now was how to bring those so-called superheroes to justice.

The car passed by, stirring up a few fallen leaves.

Gwen, wearing a hoodie, watched as Castle's car passed by.

Staring at her phone, her expression was somewhat dejected.

Although she explained to Peter what was wrong at the pool, she felt disappointed when she heard Peter ask for leave.

Asking Ms. Fisk for Peter's leave wasn't difficult for her.

The key was that her plan to communicate with Peter face to face had completely failed.

Central High School.

Gwen had just entered the classroom when Liz caught up to her.

"Something very important, Gwen," Liz said solemnly.

"The weekend party, we need you."

"What?" Gwen blinked, not understanding what Liz meant.

"The weekend masquerade party, we need a band, and luckily we have one in our school—'Mary Janes' band!" Liz said.

The "Mary Janes" band Liz mentioned was the school band Gwen belonged to.

Gwen was the drummer.

But because she was new and didn't rehearse with the band often, she felt somewhat detached from the band.

"I need to think about it," Gwen said, considering refusing because of her ominous feeling.

"But aren't you part of the band? Gloria and the others are participating, do you want the band to fall apart?" Liz coughed, then pretended to look pitiful and said to Gwen, "Unless you want me to invite the high school choir, that would be a disaster."

The high school choir, with Mr. Morton and Miss Fisk as members, would likely turn any gathering into a disaster if they were involved.

"Okay, I'll think about it, Liz."

Gwen continued to evade, but her attitude had softened.

"Thanks, I'll call my channel subscribers to follow 'Mary Janes' band."

Liz waved her phone in front of Gwen, then happily hugged her.

Sitting at her desk, Gwen took out her phone and curiously looked at Liz's personal channel.

Most of the content on the channel was about some novel events or analysis of superheroes.

Soon she found a strange scene in Liz's latest video.

The footage taken by the device on a rainy night was not clear and kept shaking, making the picture even blurrier.

It seemed like Spider-Man was fighting something like a "giant snake."

But the footage flashed by, so it was hard to tell if it was real or fake.

Gwen's curiosity was instantly piqued.

Did Spider-Man appear last night?

Resting her chin on her right hand, she looked somewhat annoyed.

She had slept too early last night.

Since she decided to become a superhero, shouldn't she be out on the streets fighting criminals?

Sighing in frustration, Gwen reflected on her laziness.

The bell rang, ending her reverie.

The first class was biology, but Mr. Morton suddenly announced the cancellation of the biology class.

"Why?"