The church is in his rearview mirror.

He drives off, leaving a building full of gangbangers full of holes and lead. A part of him liked it, no not a part, he did like it. It was just a little death, for tonight at least, maybe more to come tomorrow.

Maybe Frank is Hellbound but he’s not resisting it, even as the snow falls and the church bells ring and the cheery Christmas lights blur in the edges of his vision, the blood list wearing off slowly but surely.

Frank isn’t much of a Christmas man anymore. He used to be, he can remember his kids running into his and his wife’s room, practically jumping on them, urging them to get up and open presents. He’d tackle Lisa and Frank jr. with hugs and kisses before going downstairs.

Frank was not at the funeral, so his life became one for them.

He tightens his bloody grip on the steering wheel, the muscle in his jaw jumping.

He parks the van about a block away, covering it with a tarp before starting his walk back to his safe house. It’s icy, cold, it feels good oh his peeled knuckles.

He opens the series of locks on his door on auto pilot, he’s got one plan for tonight: see how hammered he can get before he blacks out.

He shucks his trench coat off, then the vest till he’s in more comfortable shirt and pants, cleaning the blood off himself and ignoring the stinging as she stitches himself. Is this brutality just improvised anymore? He’s still fighting a war that stopped a while ago.

He sits down, opening his first bottle of Whiskey, he wonders what Red is up to tonight. Whether he’s out fighting or if the Holy Man has taken today off for Jesus’ sake.

Frank scoffs and downs his whiskey.

Maybe that dumb kid is with Red, he hopes at least, it’s kinda cold tonight.

And before the knock on his door comes, Frank already knows someone is there, and he’s up fast. Gun drawn and pointed at the peephole of the door, hammer pulled back and ready. What the hell???

“Yeah? Who is it?” He says roughly, even harshly because who the hell knows about this safe house? He waits for an answer, finger ready to pull that trigger so fast it’s shaking.