Wilson Fisk.
To the outside world, he was a philanthropist and a wealthy businessman.
But in Hell's Kitchen, he had another far more terrifying na—Kingpin.
Kingpin was the leader of a massive criminal empire.
On the surface, he dealt in real estate, finance, and art collections, presenting himself as a legitimate tycoon. In secret, however, he was involved in violent property seizures, forced evictions, land acquisition through intimidation, arms smuggling, money laundering, drug trafficking, and human trafficking.
There were also all sorts of so-called high-end clubs and hotels under his control, along with intelligence trading and countless other illegal businesses.
In truth, he was the emperor of New York's underworld.
Within Hell's Kitchen, he stood at the top of the largest gang, while his criminal network stretched across the globe.
His wealth was beyond imagination.
His power was deeply rooted and enormous. Although many gangs still existed throughout Hell's Kitchen, the true king of the underworld remained Kingpin.
And yet, even the emperor of such a criminal empire had troubles of his own.
Recently, several of his transactions had been repeatedly disrupted.
The ones causing him problems were a few damned so-called street heroes. Worse still, those vigilantes hid themselves extrely well, leaving him unable to simply crush them outright for the ti being.
Kingpin usually operated from Fisk Tower.
It was a modern fifty-eight-story skyscraper located in the heart of Hell's Kitchen.
The cold glow of the city lights pierced through the sprawling slums below, the glass curtain walls of Fisk Tower gleaming like a blade in the night. This was Wilson Fisk's kingdom. Above ground stood a glamorous business empire; beneath it lurked weapons, prisons, and countless unspeakable cris.
Fisk's office occupied the very top floor of the tower, an entire level reserved exclusively for him. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the decaying chaos of Hell's Kitchen, while a massive darkwood desk dominated the center of the room. Luxurious leather sofas sat nearby, and hidden security compartnts were built seamlessly into the walls. There was a reception area, a private study, lavish personal quarters, and even a helipad on the roof.
Wilson Fisk himself was enormous—so massive that "fat" hardly seed accurate. He stood over two ters tall and weighed more than two hundred kilograms, his body like a mountain of compressed muscle. His bald head glead beneath the lights, and the expensive custom-tailored suit stretched tightly across a physique that looked bloated at first glance, but was in fact terrifyingly solid. Every contour radiated the oppressive presence of a beast.
Standing before the glass window, he gripped a dark cane nearly as tall as his waist. Its tal head was inlaid with diamonds, reflecting faint glimrs of light as his blue eyes stared into the darkness below, brewing with cruelty and violence.
He had been deep in thought when his ears twitched suddenly.
Fisk spun around at once.
The mont he saw what stood behind him, his pupils contracted violently, shock surging through his heart like a tidal wave.
At so point, two strangers had appeared silently inside his office.
For a mont, the brightly lit room fell into a deathly stillness.
The two uninvited guests were won—beautiful won. One of them was so stunning that even soone like Fisk had to admit she was exceptional. Height, appearance, temperant… everything about her was flawless.
Under normal circumstances, he might have been interested.
But right now, there was only one thing on his mind:
How had these two won bypassed the tower's layers of security and reached his office without making a sound?
Not a single one of his guards had noticed.
Even worse, Fisk could sll danger coming from them—a danger so intense that every muscle in his body instinctively tensed. If not for the restraint of sheer willpower, he might already have attacked first.
"Yo, philanthropist Mr. Wilson," Neagley greeted cheerfully from in front of his desk. "Pleasure to et you. I'm Neagley."
"Natasha," Natasha added calmly.
Neagley casually picked up a business docunt from the desk and flipped through it. Finding nothing particularly interesting, she tossed it back down and smiled at Fisk.
anwhile, Natasha stood straight beside her, her exquisite face carrying a lazy indifference as she casually surveyed the luxurious office around them.
The two won radiated complete ease, as though the infamous kingpin of New York's underworld was nothing worth taking seriously.
"Who are you people?" Fisk asked.
There was no anger in his voice. On the contrary, he remained calm and composed, though the subtle tightening of his grip on the cane betrayed that he was far from relaxed.
"Just two ordinary people who want to make a friend," Neagley replied with a bright smile, leaning casually against the desk.
"If it were just to make friends, you wouldn't use this thod," Kingpin said evenly, his brow furrowing as he raised his voice slightly.
Suddenly, the office doors burst open.
A group of heavily ard security personnel stord inside, weapons raised. At the front stood a man and a woman.
The man was over six feet tall, lean and muscular, dressed in a dark blue-black jacket and leather pants. A bullseye symbol sat prominently in the center of his forehead.
The woman beside him was strikingly beautiful, nearly as tall as Natasha. Her figure was slender and sharp, dressed in an asymtrical outfit that gave off the air of a punk assassin. She wore a cropped top that exposed her waist, with one sleeve covering her right arm while her left remained bare, decorated with tallic spikes. Black fishnet stockings and heeled leather boots completed the look.
There was sothing deeply unsettling about the expression on her delicate face—a kind of beautiful madness.
Faced with the forest of gun barrels aid at them, Natasha didn't even bother to turn around.
Neagley, still leaning casually against the desk, rely tilted her head and glanced toward the newcors.
That single glance was enough.
An indescribable pressure swept through the room like the gaze of a ferocious beast locking onto prey. Everyone's hearts tightened violently. Their bodies trembled uncontrollably, and several guards nearly lost their grip on their weapons. The man and woman at the front fared slightly better, but even they stiffened instinctively.
"No need to be nervous, gentlen," Neagley said lightly, her voice calm but perfectly clear in everyone's ears. Then her gaze shifted to the woman. "And this beautiful lady as well. We don't an any harm, so please try not to pull the trigger. Otherwise… things could beco very ugly."
The atmosphere instantly turned suffocating.
After a few seconds, Fisk spoke in an indisputable tone: "Get out. Bullseye, Mary, stay. Close the door."
Hearing their boss's command, the guards felt as if a heavy burden had been lifted. They exited imdiately and waited in the hallway, only then realizing their backs were drenched in cold sweat.
"I admire your authority," Neagley said with a grin, deliberately lightening the tense atmosphere. "You remind of soone. It's strangely charming."
"Thank you for the complint," Fisk replied evenly.
As he spoke, he stepped forward with movents that looked heavy but were surprisingly light and controlled, stopping less than two ters away from Neagley and Natasha.
It was an extrely delicate distance.
To ordinary people, it might have seed insignificant, but for experienced fighters, two ters was the perfect range—close enough to attack instantly, far enough to retreat if necessary. More importantly, it allowed Bullseye and Mary to coordinate with him seamlessly, subtly forming an encirclent around the two won.
Natasha's eyes shifted slightly.
In that mont, her understanding of Fisk changed.
Her gaze swept quickly across his body, imdiately recognizing just how dangerous he was. Beneath the appearance of bulk was layer upon layer of dense muscle, giving him a physique far beyond that of a normal human. Even the way he positioned himself revealed extensive combat experience and mastery of close-quarters fighting.
As for the two behind him…
The woman was interesting.
The man, however, was nothing special.
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