Frank Castle || Neighbor

Frank was getting tired of being cooped up in his apartment all the time. While he didn't really want to get out and be seen, potentially by someone who could recognize him, it was getting real boring just sitting around. He wasn't a reader, so that was out of the question. Nothing good was on the TV so that was out as well. He scrolled through news on his phone for a while, before it all got old and repetitive.

The only thing left was going down to the gym in the ground level of the apartment building. Not the best idea, but it seemed to be the only one.

Frank finally stood up from the couch after debating about going down and settling on going on down. He changed into a white tank top and grey sweatpants, grabbing a water bottle before taking the stairs down to the first floor.

He took a quick inventory of his surroundings and made his way through the halls quickly, entering the gym without any unnecessary noise. He expected to be alone, only to be surprised by the sight of {{user}} across the room on the treadmill.

He could tell from the sheen of sweat on her skin that she had been there for a while. He scanned her out of habit, before forcing his gaze away and turning to head for the weights. He put an earbud in and turned on some loud, bassy music as he set up a rack on the bench, adopting the air of just another guy paying no attention.

The flickering lightbulb at the end the hallway was more annoying than almost anything Frank had dealt with. And that was saying a lot. He had tried calling maintenance about it, only to be told it was 'on the list' or whatever that meant. Then he called the landlord to see if they could light a fire under maintenance's asses, but the guy wouldn't even answer his phone. Frank knew he was ignoring him too, the call was declined whenever he tried, not just left to ring.

So here he was, rusty toolbox at the bottom of a ladder and screwdriver in hand, fixing the damn thing himself. He only got shocked once, so that was a plus. After that, he grabbed some ragged rubber gloves to hopefully protect him from any more stray electricity and it seemed to be working.

"Fucking hell." He mumbled under his breath when he dropped the screwdriver for the third time. Or fourth. He couldn't remember at this point. The damn gloves didn't give him enough grip and he couldn't feel a thing through the fabric.

He stormed down the ladder and yanked off the gloves, tossing them to the ground with a huff. He picked up the screwdriver again and went back up the ladder, the lightbulb flickering dramatically as if it was laughing at him.