It took less than two minutes for Ryan to completely crush the thugs.
He moved like a galloping stallion—fast, precise, and untouchable. Every step was calculated, every shot hit its mark.
When the gunfire finally ceased, more than a dozen bodies lay scattered across the dim park. Those who could still run fled into the night.
Ryan didn't chase them. He wasn't a killer—at least, not tonight.
The fight was over, but the date was definitely ruined.
When Ryan returned to the corner of the park path, he spotted Frank Castle—face wild and tense, trembling as he held his wife and daughter in his arms.
The man looked like a wounded lion, desperate and furious all at once.
Ryan didn't interrupt. He just cleared his throat softly and gave Gwen a wink.
Gwen let out a relieved cheer and immediately threw herself into his arms.
"Ryan, the second you turned around, I regretted it! It's a good thing you're okay, or else—"
"Or else," Ryan said with a teasing grin, "Miss Gwen Stacy wouldn't have such a perfect boyfriend."
Gwen's cheeks flushed. "Boyfriend? You haven't even confessed yet."
"Confess?" Ryan blinked innocently. "Oh right. That was the whole point of our date tonight—until our evening got hijacked by a bunch of drug dealers."
He said it with mock seriousness, and Gwen laughed, her long eyelashes fluttering as she leaned in for a kiss.
It was long. Sweet.
And just as Ryan's hands began to wander, an awkward cough broke the moment.
Both turned toward the sound, realizing they weren't alone.
Even in a Western setting, having someone witness your first kiss was enough to make Gwen blush furiously.
Standing a few meters away, Frank Castle gave a short nod.
"Sorry to interrupt your moment," he said in a low, steady voice. "I'm Frank Castle. Thank you… for saving my wife and daughter."
Ryan nodded back, then smiled gently at the woman and child beside him.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out a business card, and handed it to Frank.
"Just call me Ryan. Those guys earlier were from the Russian Mafia and the Cent Family—they were in the middle of a drug trade. Your wife just happened to walk in on them. You should be careful."
Ryan's tone shifted slightly, becoming more serious. "If possible, you should take your family and leave town for a while. Don't give them another chance."
Ryan's impression of the Punisher had always been positive.
Frank was ruthless, yes—but he had a moral line, and he lived by it. He sought vengeance for the right reasons, not out of chaos.
And Ryan wasn't about to miss the chance to bring a man like that under his wing.
But instead of pushing, he chose subtlety. A friendly warning. A favor owed.
Frank looked stunned for a moment, then grateful.
Since retiring from the Marines, his edge had dulled a bit. Ryan's words cut through that haze like a blade.
The Russian Mafia and Cent Family had ugly reputations. Anyone who interfered with their drug deals usually didn't live to tell the tale.
If not for Ryan's intervention, Frank realized… his family would've been gone.
He opened his mouth to thank him again—
But before he could, the distant wail of NYPD sirens filled the night air.
Moments later, a familiar voice shouted from across the park.
"Gwen! Are you alright?!"
A tall, broad-shouldered man in a police uniform came running toward them—his badge glinting under the streetlights.
"Why the hell aren't you home yet? What are you doing in a place like this?" he barked. "This is Hell's Kitchen, Gwen!"
He looked around at the chaos and cursed. "Damn it, these junkie scumbags are getting bolder—doing deals right in the middle of downtown!"
Captain George Stacy had arrived, and he was fuming.
Frank quickly tucked Ryan's business card into his pocket, staying silent beside his wife and daughter.
Gwen sighed helplessly. "Daddy, I'm fine."
Then, a bit embarrassed, she leaned closer to Ryan and whispered, "I forgot to mention… my dad's a New York City Police Captain. He can be a little… intense."
Ryan blinked. "Captain? Wow, four stars?"
Gwen rolled her eyes. "Three. Precinct Captain."
Ryan pretended to look terrified. "Still impressive. So… is dating the captain's daughter punishable by interrogation at the station?"
Gwen: "…"
George: "..."
She couldn't help but laugh, punching his shoulder playfully.
Meanwhile, George Stacy's glare could have melted steel.
This kid had guts. Not only was he with his daughter late at night—but he was flirting with her in front of him.
Before he could explode, several more NYPD officers and detectives arrived on scene. Reports were taken, statements gathered.
The park buzzed with chaos.
Ryan, Gwen, Frank, and his family were all questioned separately.
Eventually, George pulled a few strings, using his rank to spare them from going to the precinct for further statements.
But even with that settled, he wasn't letting Gwen out of his sight.
"Gwen. Car. Now," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Ryan didn't protest. He just smiled and gestured with his hand like a phone, mouthing, Call me.
Gwen smiled back softly before being ushered into the car.
As George started the engine, he turned to give Ryan one last death glare—the kind that said, hurt my daughter and I'll end you.
Ryan simply smiled, unfazed, as the police cars pulled away—
and Frank Castle, standing in the shadows, looked down at the card in his hand, deep in thought.