The moment Richard Carter finished speaking, Viper’s expression darkened.
“So that’s how it is?” He jabbed a finger across the table.
“You think my men are idiots?” Richard shrugged.
“I was referring to the ones who stormed my office.” Viper’s eye twitched.
That’s not helping.
He leaned forward, voice hardening.
“Don’t get cocky, Mr.
Carter.” “I’m not that fool you met before.” “The Green Snake Gang isn’t like the street trash you’ve dealt with.” “If I were you…” “I’d seriously consider accepting our offer.” Richard looked genuinely curious.
“There are other gangs?” He tilted his head.
“Who?” “The street racers?” The insult landed perfectly.
Viper heard something very different.
Wait…
He thinks we’re barely above street punks?
His face flushed.
He slammed a palm onto the table.
“Listen carefully, kid.” “I don’t care who’s backing you.” “And I don’t care who you think you know.” He leaned so close their faces were only inches apart.
“You’ve heard of Silvermane.” “Now that’s someone important.” “Even today, there aren’t many people in New York whose word carries more weight than his.” “Our gang works for him.” “Surely you understand what that means.” Richard nodded thoughtfully.
So you’re one of Silvermane’s people.
That explains it.
He briefly wondered whether telling Viper he’d once sat down for tea with Silvermane would improve the conversation.
Probably not.
His silence, however, had the opposite effect.
Viper mistook it for hesitation.
Good.
Now they were finally getting somewhere.
“Excellent.” “So you know who you’re dealing with.” He leaned back with renewed confidence.
“People keep spreading ridiculous rumors that some nobody called Kingpin is replacing our boss as the ruler of New York.” “What a joke.” “I don’t even know who this Kingpin is.” “But if he walked through that door right now and sat where you’re sitting…” “I’d slap him across the face myself.” “Then I’d remind him who really runs this city.” Richard glanced sideways.
Wilson Fisk calmly cut another piece of steak.
Sipped his wine.
Chewed thoughtfully.
If he was offended, he hid it behind impeccable table manners.
To Viper, Fisk was just another diner who’d gotten in the way.
To Fisk…
Viper was beneath notice.
Richard almost admired the restraint.
Then again, Fisk had come tonight to observe Richard.
Perhaps he wanted to see how the newspaper owner handled pressure.
Richard, meanwhile, had reached a different conclusion.
These people are persistent.
All this…
because Kathy wrote one article?
The Green Snake Gang had become exhausting.
He briefly considered making a stop in Hell’s Kitchen on the way home and removing the organization entirely.
It would certainly save everyone future headaches.
Instead, he smiled politely.
“Mr.
Viper.” The alias still sounded ridiculous to him.
“I’m sure we can work out a solution acceptable to everyone.” He gestured toward Fisk.
“But as you can see, I’m having dinner with Mr.
Fisk.” “I’d rather not inconvenience him.” “Perhaps we could discuss this another…” Viper snorted before Richard could finish.
“This fat guy?” He glanced at Fisk with open contempt.
“Who cares about him?” Richard blinked.
For several seconds…
He genuinely didn’t know what to say.
My friend…
Do you have a death wish?
He looked toward Fisk again.
Still calm.
Still smiling.
Remarkable.
Richard remembered enough about Wilson Fisk to know there were certain things one simply didn’t say.
Calling him fat ranked very high on that list.
The man had beaten people to death over less.
Yet somehow…
He was still smiling.
Since Viper had dragged him into the conversation, Fisk finally set down his utensils.
His tone remained warm and measured.
“Gentlemen.” “I don’t know what disagreement exists between you and Mr.
Carter.” “But surely we can resolve it peacefully.” “We’re all New Yorkers.” “Civilized people should…” “This doesn’t concern you, fat man.” Viper laughed.
“Peacefully?” “You’re naïve.” “You obviously don’t understand how this city works.” “So why don’t you wipe your mouth…” “…haul your fat ass out of that chair…” “…and get lost before I…” A hand landed on Viper’s shoulder.
He turned irritably.
“What?” “Can’t you see I’m talking?” One of his subordinates held out a phone.
“It’s Thorn.” “He wants you.” Viper’s irritation disappeared instantly.
Thorn was his direct superior.
The same superior who’d nearly torn his head off after the Green Snake Gang became front-page news.
Ignoring that call wasn’t an option.
He answered immediately.
“Boss?” “Yeah…” “I’m at the Misadi Restaurant.” “Right.” “I’m with Richard Carter.” “And there’s also some fat guy named Fi…” Viper froze.
The color drained from his face.
His swagger vanished as though someone had flipped a switch.
Shock.
Fear.
Regret.
Each emotion chased the last across his expression.
He listened in complete silence.
“…Yes.” “…Understood.” “…I know.” “…I’m sorry.” He lowered the phone with stiff, mechanical movements and handed it back to his subordinate.
Then he slowly walked toward Wilson Fisk.
His head bowed.
“S-Sir…” “I’m…” “I’m terribly sorry.” Fisk waved a hand dismissively.
“It’s fine.” “You should leave.” Relief flooded Viper’s face.
“Thank you, sir.” “I’ll go.” “Immediately.” He wasn’t exaggerating.
Within ten seconds, he and every member of the Green Snake Gang had disappeared from the restaurant.
Richard watched them leave with quiet sympathy.
If he had to guess…
Those men probably wouldn’t live long enough to regret tonight for very long.
Some people simply couldn’t resist provoking the wrong person.
And eventually…
That habit always caught up with them.