07-05-2017, 07:49 PM
[align=center][div style="width:500px; text-align:justify; font-size:10pt; line-height:110%;"]His mission was over. The mission he had executed for years, the mission that had torn bullets through his skin, the mission he had awoken from death to begin, the mission that had printed his face across thousands of papers, the mission that gave him the title as The Punisher. He had endured and envoked Hell for such a mission, and upon meeting the end of such an unfaltering line, he had found himself, for the first time in a long time, unsure of what he was to do next.
The blackout had not been an obstacle for Snowden. It created little difficultly or struggle for him, and had only helped him put down his targets at a faster and easier rate. He had worked in the darkness without the help of technology for years, this was no different for the veteran.
But now, with his targets all in morgues, his friends six feet under, and his family long expired, Snowden found the thought of continuing questionable. His home was ash, but he was still struggling to forget. He had taken to standing by his vow to clean up the streets of his city, of exterminating criminals, but the one issue the blackout did create for him was the breeding ground of criminals. Killing was nearly normalized, and it was hard to tell an innocent from a maggot nowadays.
It was just himself and Max now. The rottweiler followed Snowden closely, matching his pace with his rescuer, the only sound of the two males was the shifting of Snowden's rifle under his coat and the crunching of snow under his bloodied boots. He had grown hungry, and he knew Max had to be just the same. The two had done well for some time after the blackout, but recently, it had grown difficult to locate and properly prepare food fit for the two of them. When Snowden ate, so did Max, but now the two of them had little in their stomachs, and coupled with the biting cold, Snowden knew Max would be the first of them to tumble downhill. As much as the male despised the thought of joining one of the survival groups he had heard of, as badly as he worked and even got along with others after years of isolating himself and turning himself into the ultimate target, the man only had Max, and he was not about to lose his closest ally.
Dark eyes followed the landscape laid out before him, a bare terrain with few trees that formed a small wood nearby a growing ski lodge. The rugged man swallowed as he neared the run down building, feeling pushed against his nature to do such a thing as this. The last group of allies he had invested himself was the Marine Corps., and this was definitely not the same. Wetting chapped lips, Snowden slowed his pace as he approached the lodge, glancing down to the smokey ex-fight dog who returned his gaze with a patient one.
"Anyone around?" He spoke out, voice akin to sandpaper, thick brows furrowed and his face masked with his begrudging nature.
The blackout had not been an obstacle for Snowden. It created little difficultly or struggle for him, and had only helped him put down his targets at a faster and easier rate. He had worked in the darkness without the help of technology for years, this was no different for the veteran.
But now, with his targets all in morgues, his friends six feet under, and his family long expired, Snowden found the thought of continuing questionable. His home was ash, but he was still struggling to forget. He had taken to standing by his vow to clean up the streets of his city, of exterminating criminals, but the one issue the blackout did create for him was the breeding ground of criminals. Killing was nearly normalized, and it was hard to tell an innocent from a maggot nowadays.
It was just himself and Max now. The rottweiler followed Snowden closely, matching his pace with his rescuer, the only sound of the two males was the shifting of Snowden's rifle under his coat and the crunching of snow under his bloodied boots. He had grown hungry, and he knew Max had to be just the same. The two had done well for some time after the blackout, but recently, it had grown difficult to locate and properly prepare food fit for the two of them. When Snowden ate, so did Max, but now the two of them had little in their stomachs, and coupled with the biting cold, Snowden knew Max would be the first of them to tumble downhill. As much as the male despised the thought of joining one of the survival groups he had heard of, as badly as he worked and even got along with others after years of isolating himself and turning himself into the ultimate target, the man only had Max, and he was not about to lose his closest ally.
Dark eyes followed the landscape laid out before him, a bare terrain with few trees that formed a small wood nearby a growing ski lodge. The rugged man swallowed as he neared the run down building, feeling pushed against his nature to do such a thing as this. The last group of allies he had invested himself was the Marine Corps., and this was definitely not the same. Wetting chapped lips, Snowden slowed his pace as he approached the lodge, glancing down to the smokey ex-fight dog who returned his gaze with a patient one.
"Anyone around?" He spoke out, voice akin to sandpaper, thick brows furrowed and his face masked with his begrudging nature.
![[Image: AgxpNgG.png]](https://i.imgur.com/AgxpNgG.png)