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"Heh. Sorry, it's just a precaution; besides, I also needed to try and look you up. I won't mind telling you later, but you toting guns around isn't exactly something to earn my total trust. As I said, I hate guns. But... at least I'm better than how I used to be. Roughly a year ago I wouldn't have even told you my first name, let alone the whole thing," Brenda said, getting up and moving over to him. She knew his body language, because once upon a time she had felt the same kind of paranoia and mistrust of people. She could relate to him, in a way.

"You can calm down, Castle-- since I assume you don't want me to use your first name. I'm not going to attack you or anything, since I'm not a bad person. I'm... Well, I was a vigilante, but I had to retire early. If you want, you can stay here for a bit. Just... please don't shoot the place up if you do."

She patted his back once-- and placed a tiny, silent tracker on his trenchcoat-- before moving away and to the entrance to the cave. She wanted to help the guy, but he was still a gun-toting near-maniac according to what she had read, with a body count of criminals to rival the Joker's body count total. The guy was dangerous... And she'd need to keep an eye on him.

"You hungry? I am. Figure I'll make myself some lunch or something."

[Enter from Wayne Manor]

Brenda Wayne was not in a good mood, to put it simply, as she, Damian, d**k, and Brigade walked down into the Batcave and cleaned up the little mess made by Punisher when he arrived and attacked Brenda. She'd been attacked by that gun-toting psycho, had to lay him out, and then when he left he attacked her again after having that... thing attached to him.

She sat down at the Batwave and looked at the signal of her tracker that was placed on Castle's clothes. Whatever it was that attached itself to him hadn't disrupted the signal from her little tracker, so he could still be located. But... She didn't want to go out herself. Not yet. She was still worried about that younger Bat, and who knew when those guys at the Watchtower might need her help?

"Nightwing," she said, "that little beacon was what I placed on the guy. His name's Frank Castle, he's from the... 'other' universe, and he's a dangerous vigilante even without that thing that got onto him--"

"Symbiote," interjected Brigade.

"What?"

"The being that attacked Castle-Frank is referred to as a 'symbiote'. We can bring up relevant data extracted from computer files from the Strategic Hazard Intervention Espionage Logistics Directorate's databases."

"Do it," Brenda said, and notes on the symbiotes appeared on the Batwave's monitor.

Extraterrestrial beings... Seek out hosts and bond with them... Hosts become aggressive... Brenda thought to herself as she looked through the data. From what she could tell, the symbiote that latched onto Frank wasn't exactly an evil being. Judging by how it had acted earlier, it was like a lost, scared animal. Getting the thing off, well... It appeared that to do so, either loud noises, bright lights, and/or intense heat (or in the case of this one, intense cold) could be used to make it happen.

"Nightwing," Brenda said again, "I'd like you to go out and follow this guy. I or Brigade will stay here and play mission control. Just be very careful; as I was saying, Castle's really dangerous, and apparently this symbiote just amplifies that. I suggest taking some freeze pellets or that Freeze Ray Brigade found. If you can, try and talk this thing into leaving Castle and coming back here."

"On it."

Brenda watched as Nightwing prepared himself, taking Brigade's Freeze Ray with him as he moved out on his Wingcycle into Gotham, and she sighed. This day was just not letting up...

[Exit Nightwing to Gotham]

As the canister opened for it, the small puddle of black and silver leapt out quickly. It pooled at the feet of the suit, darting back and forth around the costume as a dog might when confronted with a new person. After several minutes, the symbiote launched at the suit and began to consume it. Creeping up and around every crevice and seam of the outfit, the result was a Batsuit with silver veins running through it and, where once was the undeniable symbol of the bat, was marked with the same skull the Punisher wore across his chest.

No sooner than the suit was completely donned, did the symbiote immediately begin bolstering Brenda's consciousness with pure fear and confusion. The symbiote, while not able to directly relay its minute grasp of language as it did with Castle, was capable of transmitting its bizarre and malformed 'emotions' to the woman which now wore it. Its barrage of vibes was enough to bring anyone's hands to their head in an attempt to halt the migraine which it wrought with its savage attempt at communication.

An uncomfortable sense of quiet came from the creature. The rage it had fueled inside Castle lead it to give off resonating pulses of pain throughout its new host, thought it tried its best to convey some sense of relief to Brenda. It seemed to be offering some concept of speech to the woman, but its lack of bond with her directly severely impaired the plan. Instead, it let the words it hardly understood roll over it.

Pun... The thought would appear in Brenda's mind as if her own, but it would sound alien all at the same time. Having something think into your mind was nothing to take lightly, but it was the only thing the symbiote could do. Punish... Punish...

It tried holding itself back. If it could just bond to her everything would be clear, but it didn't want to make the woman upset. Instead, it strained every fiber of its semi-consciousness to complete the only real word it knew.

Punish... Punishment... The word finally come through, and some of the waves of anger concluded. From where the word came from would always be traced back to Castle, and the twisted sense of purpose it had rubbed off into the symbiote. Punishment. The thought went through as if it were both a name and a purpose.

The thing seemed to lighten its pulses of anger now that it had uttered, more or less, its identity. Still, the confusion from Brenda was pooling a confused rage. Its lack of ability to communicate would perpetuate more anger; both in the symbiote, and the host. Punishment sent the closest thing it could to words through to Brenda's mind; a light hiss, like the one it had uttered out during its time attached to Castle.