Daisy hadn’t expected to stumble into something like this during a simple walk.
Who had treated Frank after he was so badly wounded?
She thought about it for a moment but realized she had no memory of anything like that.
Before she could dwell on the inconsistency any longer, Frank’s breathing became even weaker.
She checked his pulse.
Although she had never studied medicine, Daisy could tell his life was hanging by a thread.
She looked around, but no miracle doctor appeared to save him.
“I really shouldn’t be the one treating you, should I?
This is way too weird…
Fine, I guess you’re lucky.” After a brief hesitation, she saw that Frank was on the verge of taking his last breath.
She quickly placed a hand on his chest and activated her vibration ability.
Using an extremely gentle force, she guided a tiny pulse of energy into his heart, helping it resume beating.
“Ugh—” Frank suddenly lurched upright on instinct, but his body was far too weak to support the movement.
He managed to sit up halfway before collapsing back onto the seat.
Blood poured from his wounds as if there were no end to it.
Daisy was completely speechless.
His reflexes were unbelievably fast, and her treatment had apparently been a little too forceful.
Watching Frank lose consciousness again, she had no idea what to do.
Calling an ambulance clearly wasn’t the best option.
Whoever was after Frank had considerable influence.
There was a good chance he wouldn’t survive, and she would only end up getting caught in the middle.
She would have to treat him herself.
Her past life as an unsuccessful writer had left her with plenty of medical theory picked up from novels, while the original Daisy had learned basic first aid after years of standing up to her classmates.
Combined together, theory and practical experience made a surprisingly workable combination.
She glanced at the ground.
A faint trail of blood stretched all the way from Central Park to her car, practically pointing anyone searching for him straight to the vehicle.
Daisy quickly drove away from the park and turned into a secluded alley.
On the way, she stopped to buy gauze, rubbing alcohol, and a needle and thread.
After reviewing some basic wound-care procedures on her laptop, she began treating him.
She disinfected the wounds with alcohol, then used carefully controlled counter-vibrations to force the bullets out before stitching the injuries with remarkable speed.
Her hands moved quickly enough, but her technique was far from elegant.
By the time she finished, Frank was wrapped in gauze like a zongzi.
“Hey, buddy.
Feeling any better?
Is there somewhere you want to go?
I can drive you there.” Her preferred method of waking someone up consisted of several firm slaps across the face.
After five or six of them, Frank finally regained consciousness.
He stared blankly at her, clearly realizing he had never seen her before.
“I’m just a passerby.
You seem to be in a lot of trouble, but I can’t take you back to my apartment.
You’d scare my roommate half to death looking like this…
Do you have anywhere to go?
I can drive you there.” She pointed to herself as she spoke.
Frank’s eyes remained empty, devoid of any visible attachment to life.
After waiting several seconds without getting a response, Daisy gave up.
She found an abandoned-looking house nearby, used her vibrations to unlock the door, and helped the future Punisher stumble inside.
The furniture was old and covered with dust.
Whether the owner had moved away or passed on, she had no way of knowing.
She laid Frank on the bed.
He remained silent.
“We’re strangers.
I’ve already done more than enough for you.
The rest is up to you.” She pulled the door open and stepped outside.
After taking one step away, she stopped and turned back.
Opening Frank’s wallet, she found that years of military service had apparently left him with little sense of personal finances.
There wasn’t even a single dollar inside.
“…I’m not exactly rich either, but here’s two hundred dollars.
Don’t underestimate it.” Afraid he might literally starve to death, Daisy reluctantly took two hundred dollars from her already meager savings and tucked it into his wallet.
Dust covered the floors and furniture, suggesting no one would be returning anytime soon.
Most people would need someone to look after them even with a bad cold, but Frank was different.
His body had been tempered by countless battles.
Given enough time, he would recover on his own.
He was a true veteran.
There was little more she could do.
After returning to her apartment, she turned on her computer and started searching for information.
The internet contained only brief reports about a shootout in Central Park.
Some witnesses claimed to have seen several bodies, but there was no information about who had been involved or how many casualties there had been.
Thinking about the tragic fate awaiting the Punisher’s family, Daisy let out a quiet sigh.
After practicing her abilities for a while, she finally lay down.
Feeling the wallet that now held only five hundred dollars, she found herself too broke to sleep comfortably.
As she wondered how other transmigrators always managed to earn their first fortune so quickly, she had the nagging feeling she had forgotten something.
Eventually, she drifted off to sleep.
…
The next morning, Daisy quickly brushed her teeth, washed her face, and ate a few slices of bread while absentmindedly gesturing with her fork.
She simply couldn’t think of a good way to make money.
She knew about software projects that could be profitable, but every one of them required startup capital—or at least money to hire people.
She had no desire to lock herself in a room for six months writing code.
That wasn’t the kind of life she wanted.
As for everything else, she drew a complete blank.
Writing?
This world didn’t have ‘Harry Potter’, but she doubted copying it word for word would guarantee success.
Besides, she couldn’t remember the original text well enough.
Drawing comics featuring Superman or Wonder Woman from the neighboring universe?
She didn’t have the artistic talent for that either.
She stepped outside, opened the car door— and nearly staggered backward from the overwhelming smell of blood.
Only then did she remember.
She should have cleaned the car the previous night.
It was a rental.
After sitting overnight, the metallic odor had become indescribably awful.
The car had to be returned.
Just not in this condition.
A vehicle covered in blood…
How was she supposed to explain that?
Scratching her head, Daisy thought for a while before deciding there was only one solution.
She needed to wash the car.
A legitimate car wash was obviously out of the question.
She would have to find one connected to the local gangs.
Searching her memories, she drove toward a place called Veles Taxi.
The business operated within Russian Mafia territory and handled everything from vehicle painting and modifications to car washes.
Daisy covered her face.
There was probably an eighty percent chance this would end in a fight.
Honestly, she wasn’t worried.
If anything, she felt a little excited.
The only thing that concerned her was being unarmed.
The only weapon she still had was the taser left behind by the original Daisy.
Surely she wasn’t going to buy a handgun just to get her car washed.
That would be absurd.
Deciding to deal with whatever happened when it happened, she drove through the winding streets of Hell’s Kitchen until she finally reached the Russians’ territory.
The car wash was located in an underground parking garage.
Since it was still daytime, only a handful of people were around.
Two men stood in the middle of the garage, speaking in low voices.
Daisy immediately recognized one of them.
It was James Wesley, Kingpin’s representative during the recent land acquisitions.
He was still dressed in a perfectly tailored suit and glasses, his polished appearance sharply contrasting with the burly men scattered throughout the garage.
Standing opposite him was a thin man.
The two appeared to be arguing quietly.
When they heard Daisy’s engine, both turned toward the sound.
The thin man gestured for one of his subordinates to investigate.
A burly man walked over to the driver’s window and asked gruffly, “What do you want?” Daisy was momentarily speechless.
She had clearly arrived at the worst possible time.
All she could do was lower her voice and answer hoarsely, “Car wash.”