The clerk turned to them, and looked back at Frank outside, who was talking to the boy the thugs had roughed up.<br/><br/>"Great...foreigners." He muttered under his breath. He rolled his wheelchair over to the shelf past them and grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels, same size and same kind that Frank had just used.<br/><br/>He rolled back behind his counter and put the brown square bottle on the counter. "No idea where you're from, but I guess I could tell ya." These damn foreigners and their socky or whatever it was.<br/><br/>He pointed to the label on the front of the bottle, "See? Jack Daniels is the company that makes this type of alcohol. This in particular is a bottle of whiskey, just like he used out there..but the company makes all kinds of booze besides their types of whiskey. Dunno what you meant by human flesh...but the reason those bastards out there are burning right now is cause alcohol is flammable as all hell."<br/><br/>The man from the wheelchair spoke slowly, as if he didn't expect them to understand.<br/><br/>Just then Frank brought in the small boy carrying his backpack, he sat him down on a chair in the corner. He turned to the clerk, "Mickey, ya got a first aid kit?"<br/><br/>Mickey, as he was called, reached under the register and brought out a white box with a red cross on it, he clicked it open and asked Frank. "Whatcha need? I'm too fuckin' buzzed right now to be much help." He said with that slur in his voice coming back.<br/><br/>"Bandages, something to disinfect his cuts too." Frank answered.<br/><br/>Mickey slid over a bottle and a rag, and some band-aids and gauze. "Sorry, only got the stuff that stings...but it'll do the job."<br/><br/>Frank turned with what he needed, and spotted Akame and her cat. He looked them up and down, she had blood on her...but it wasn't hers obviously. And she had a look in her eyes..a look that no kid he'd ever come across had.<br/><br/>The look he knew all too well from seeing himself in the mirror.<br/><br/>The kid's name was Tommy, he shyly waved at Akame while Frank poured some alcohol over the rag and warned the kid that it would indeed sting.<br/><br/>The boy was strangely calm, but only hissed a bit when the stinging liquid on the rag touched the cut on his forehead.<br/><br/>After a few moments of silence of applying the alcohol to his various scrapes and abrasions, the boy asked a question to Frank.<br/><br/>"You're him...aren't you? The guy on the news, the guy all the bad guys are afraid of. They call you The Punisher...but your real name is Frank Castle...isn't it?" The kid asked in a half nervous half awed way.<br/><br/>Frank didn't answer until he was done applying the alcohol to the child's wounds, but did when he stuck the bandaid on the less serious ones, and began wrapping the boy's bigger ones in gauze.<br/><br/>"Yes..." Was all he said before the screeching of tires and loud thumping rap music could be heard outside, as a silver escalade pulled up across the street near the burned bodies, a group of big hulking brutish thugs got out, and several skinnier ones holding uzis.<br/><br/>One of the bigger more muscular ones knelt by the body of the last thug, who Frank had been the most cruel to.<br/><br/>He could be heard crying over the body, the words "Little brother" could be heard.<br/><br/>Frank gently pushed the kid towards Akame, "Can you keep him safe for now? I see you've got some sort of sword on you, I hope you know how to use it if worse comes to worse."<br/><br/>He turned to Mickey, "You were a sniper in the Vietnam War. Can you still hit a target?"<br/><br/>Mickey scoffed, "'Can I still hit a target'! For fucks sake man, what kinda question is that?" Hitting a button underneath, the counter top and magnetized register swung upside down and revealed on its underside now facing upward, had been a hidden tabletop of various weapons and accessories.<br/><br/>Mickey picked up the closest thing on his side of the counter, an SR-25 sniper rifle with a scope. He peered down the scope and made sure everything was functional.