Viper had stormed in like she owned the room.
She left a few minutes later with what little dignity she could salvage.
The entire confrontation had barely lasted long enough for Richard Carter to finish his drink.
Technically, she’d come looking for him.
Ironically, Richard had barely needed to say anything.
He’d answered a couple of questions, watched events unfold, and somehow ended up feeling like a bystander at his own confrontation.
In hindsight, Viper had engineered her own disaster.
Picking a fight with Richard was one thing.
Dragging Wilson Fisk into it had been another entirely.
Richard hadn’t needed to lift a finger.
Fisk had quietly swept the Green Serpents off the board.
By tomorrow morning, New York’s underworld would almost certainly be talking about the gang in the past tense.
Silence settled over the private dining room.
Fisk sighed and slowly swirled the last of the wine in his glass.
“People like that,” he said, “are why this city keeps sinking.
Predators.
Parasites.
As long as they’re allowed to thrive, ordinary people will never feel safe enough to speak up.” Richard hid the smile threatening to appear.
Strong speech.
Shame the city’s biggest crime boss is the one delivering it.
Fisk finished the wine in a single swallow and placed the empty glass on the table with deliberate care.
Then he looked directly at Richard.
Something in his expression had changed.
The genial businessman was gone.
Now there was only calculation.
“Let’s stop pretending, Mr.
Carter.” “I’m a private man.
Very few people know what my real business is.” He folded his hands.
“But considering who you work for…
I assume you’ve already figured it out.” Richard blinked.
Didn’t expect that.
“So,” Fisk continued, “there’s no point dancing around the subject.” “You know what I am.” “You may think everything I’ve said tonight is hypocrisy.” “Maybe it is.” “But I mean every word.” “I genuinely want this city to become better.” He leaned back.
“New York doesn’t need another honest mayor.” “It doesn’t need another masked vigilante.” “It needs someone who understands how it actually works.” “Someone willing to control the chaos instead of pretending it doesn’t exist.” “Someone like me.” Richard didn’t interrupt.
Oddly enough…
…he believed him.
Fisk wasn’t lying.
In his own warped way, the man probably did think he was saving New York.
If every criminal answered to one ruler, perhaps the streets really would become quieter.
That wasn’t the part Richard found interesting.
The real question was…
Why is he telling me this?
Fisk continued as though reading the thought.
“I have plans.” “Big ones.” “When they’re finished, this city will be transformed.” His voice grew more serious.
“But before any of that happens…” “I need to understand the intentions of the man behind you.” Richard frowned.
“…The man behind me?” “The Big Man.” Richard stared.
“I’m sorry…” “…what?” Fisk regarded him calmly.
“You don’t have to keep pretending, Mr.
Carter.” “My influence may not reach the people standing above you.” “But inside New York…” “…I hear things.” “And I’m not the only one.” “Others with real power have reached similar conclusions.” Richard spread his hands.
“I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about.” Fisk watched him for another second before nodding.
“Very well.” “Let’s start with something simpler.” He counted on one finger.
“Councilman Blake.” “The Daily Planet exposed his affair.” “He hired professional assassins to eliminate your photographer.” “The best money could buy.” Richard searched his memory.
Right.
That had happened.
Though calling those idiots elite assassins felt generous.
He’d dealt with them in less than a minute.
The photographer had never even realized someone had tried to have him killed.
“They disappeared afterward,” Fisk continued.
“Completely.” “No bodies.” “No evidence.” “No financial trail.” “My people searched for weeks.” “Nothing.” “Our analysts reached only one conclusion.” “They were removed by professionals operating at a level that shouldn’t exist.” “And only days later…” “Evidence proving Blake ordered the murders conveniently surfaced.” “Don’t you think everything happened…
a little too cleanly?” Richard simply shrugged.
Seeing no reaction, Fisk moved on.
“Then there was Adam Hensh.” “The Daily Planet exposed him as a serial child predator.” “For nearly a decade he’d abused hundreds of girls.” “It should have destroyed him years earlier.” “But Adam wasn’t untouchable because he was innocent.” “He had friends.” “One of them sat in Congress.” “That’s why everyone stayed quiet.” “After your paper published the story, he insisted the evidence had been fabricated.” “He promised he’d destroy your newspaper.” A faint smile crossed Fisk’s face.
“And then?” “He went to prison.” “Three weeks later…” “…his cellmates beat him to death.” Richard remembered that one too.
Adam had spent an entire press conference promising Richard wouldn’t even know what killed him.
Instead…
He’d ended up dead himself.
And for once, Richard truly had nothing to do with it.
Child predators rarely lasted long behind bars.
Prison had handled that problem all by itself.
Still…
Listening to Fisk tell the story made it sound suspiciously like Richard had arranged the hit.
Which was ridiculous.
He owned a newspaper.
A legitimate newspaper.
Hiring assassins?
Please.
Besides…
If Richard genuinely wanted someone dead, why would he outsource the job?
Flying across the city took less time than negotiating a contract.
Fisk folded his hands again.
“And finally…” “Silvermane.” “I know that old man.” “He doesn’t scare easily.” “So whoever is standing behind you…” “…must operate on an entirely different level than the rest of us.” His eyes narrowed.
“Who are they?” “A multinational organization?” He paused.
Then lowered his voice instinctively.
“As powerful as…” “…the Hand?” Richard stared at him for a long second.
Then deadpanned, “…The Hand?” “What kind of bargain-bin organization is that supposed to be?”