Wilson Fisk was a massive man.
Calling him heavy didn’t quite capture it.
He possessed an enormous frame that seemed carved from granite rather than flesh.
Every suit had to be custom-made because nothing off the rack could contain his shoulders.
Seated at a dining table, he occupied the space of two people, perhaps three.
Yet despite his size, he didn’t appear soft.
He looked immovable.
Like a mountain that had decided to wear an expensive suit.
Richard Carter had little difficulty imagining the destruction Fisk could cause if he ever lost his temper.
What surprised him was how pleasant the man actually was.
Throughout dinner, Fisk remained courteous and attentive.
He listened without interrupting, maintained easy eye contact, and carried himself with the effortless confidence of someone accustomed to commanding a room without raising his voice.
Knowing Fisk’s true identity only made the experience stranger.
Richard had expected dinner with New York’s most dangerous crime lord to be exhausting.
Instead…
It was oddly enjoyable.
He could understand how Wilson Fisk had risen so high.
“You weren’t born in New York, were you?” Fisk asked as he neatly cut a piece of steak.
Richard had secretly wondered whether Fisk simply devoured entire steaks whole.
The impeccable table manners were an unexpected discovery.
“No,” Richard answered.
“I wasn’t.” “I was.” Fisk smiled faintly.
“I’ve lived here my entire life.” “I’ve watched this city grow.” “I’ve watched it decay.” “There are wonderful things about New York.” “But these days…” “I’m afraid the darkness is winning.” Richard remained silent.
He sensed Fisk hadn’t invited him here merely for dinner.
The large man set down his knife and fork.
Beyond the restaurant’s windows, the river flowed through the night, its black surface swallowing every reflection.
“Most newcomers only see the skyline.” “The lights.” “The wealth.” “The success.” “They never see what’s underneath.” His expression hardened.
“I’ve watched criminals thrive.” “I’ve watched decent people struggle just to survive.” “This city is sick.” “Everyone knows it.” “And yet…” “Most people accept it.” “They compromise.” “They look away.” “And every compromise gives evil a little more room to grow.” Richard listened with an increasingly strange expression.
If someone had walked in without context, they’d assume Fisk was a reformer.
A civic leader.
Perhaps even a politician preparing an anti-corruption campaign.
The irony was almost painful.
Listening to Wilson Fisk condemn organized crime felt like hearing an arsonist lecture people about fire safety.
Fisk continued.
“There was a time when I looked away, too.” “In my own way…” “I became part of the problem.” “I regret that.” “I can’t help feeling responsible for what this city has become.” Richard hid a smile behind his wine glass.
You should.
Fisk leaned forward.
“That’s why I’ve decided things have to change.” “Saving New York isn’t one man’s responsibility.” “It’s ours.” “Mine.” “Yours.” “Anyone with the ability to make a difference.” Richard inclined his head.
“I can’t disagree with that.” “Exactly.” “That’s why I need allies.” Fisk’s voice softened.
“I’m only a businessman.” “My contributions begin and end with money.” “I can fund schools.” “Hospitals.” “Libraries.” “But you…” He looked directly at Richard.
“You shape public opinion.” “You influence how people think.” “How they vote.” “What they believe.” “You have a voice.” “And people trust it.” “That’s why I wanted to meet you.” “I have plans for this city.” “Ambitious ones.” “I intend to devote the rest of my life to making New York better.” “But I can’t do it alone.” Richard finally understood where the conversation had been heading.
After several polite detours, Fisk had reached the real destination.
He wanted favorable coverage.
The Daily Planet’s influence was growing rapidly, and Fisk intended to make use of it.
Richard raised his glass.
“If our newspaper can contribute to improving New York…” “We’d be happy to do our part.” That much was true.
After all, Fisk had just donated an extraordinary amount of money to the paper.
Saying a few nice things in return seemed fair enough.
At least until one of Richard’s reporters uncovered evidence linking Wilson Fisk to murder.
If that day came…
Business was business.
To Richard’s surprise, the rest of the evening remained genuinely enjoyable.
Fisk spoke passionately about crime, poverty, and the city’s future.
There was no obvious pretense in his voice.
Disturbingly…
Richard suspected Fisk truly loved New York.
The problem was that the man’s idea of saving it happened to involve becoming its undisputed ruler.
Still…
Richard couldn’t deny that Fisk’s generous donation had already solved one particularly expensive problem.
For months he’d wanted to install a massive golden globe atop the Daily Planet building.
One that slowly rotated.
Just like the iconic globe outside the newspaper building in Superman’s Metropolis.
It would look magnificent.
Until tonight, the idea had remained firmly outside the budget.
Not anymore.
As Richard and Fisk continued talking, raised voices suddenly echoed from the restaurant entrance.
Several men forced their way past the staff despite repeated attempts to stop them.
The leader wore black from head to toe.
A thick beard covered half his face.
Without asking permission, he strode across the dining room, pulled out a chair, and sat down at Richard and Fisk’s table.
The men behind him spread out in silence.
Dark sunglasses.
Leather jackets.
The unmistakable posture of professional muscle waiting for an order.
The bearded man looked straight at Richard.
“You’re Richard Carter?” Richard met his gaze calmly.
“Do we know each other?” The man leaned back.
“You can call me…” “…Viper.” Recognition dawned on Richard’s face.
“Right.” “So you’re the boss of those idiots who came to my office.” He smiled politely.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”