King’s woes

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King's woes

"James, did you get him?"

Wilson Fisk had been looking at his reflection in the mirror, practicing his smile for tonight's date.

"The pimp sir?"

"Yes."

"We got him sir, It's very unlikely that the Triad's are involved."

"I figured as much. What else?"

"He was taken by force, tortured. He was released under the condition that he never return back to New York and live a life as a civilian elsewhere."

'Sound advice probably wouldn't have fallen back into my hands had he followed it .'

James Wesley, his right hand man, proceeded to give Curtis's account.

"Doesn't sound like him to be honest sir…threatening criminals with the promise of murder."

It sure didn't!

The man who was raiding and destroying his bases wasn't that cruel.

Sure he inflicted damage to his henchmen, beating them to a pulp!

This sounded different, a lot more personal.

Mayweather did relay something about the mystery man being Ex-military but he didn't know why anyone would volunteer this information.

'Perhaps for effect?' he thought.

He also used a gun according to Curtis, which was not how the other man did things.

If his gut instinct was right then these were two different men with differing agendas and modus operandi.

The first man was a proper 'vigilante' as people began calling it these days. Wore a mask, fought in plain sight, would resort to violence but never lethal amounts of it and always left it to the cops to clean up his mess.

A real 'Superhero' if you will.

The other man sounded ex-commando, like a battle hardened veteran moving only when it's necessary and seen only when he wants to be seen.

Wilson Fisk imagined him to be a giant man with a light step, an experienced killer who's shed his true nature for civilian life, afraid to go back to what he knew best.

Benjamin Parker was the first name that came to his mind when he thought about the mystery man.

He checked all the boxes.

A vet who fought in vietnam, was a civilian now, had a strong sense of righteousness and not to mention was still tough enough to take on four people.

If he didn't have his men observing Benjamin Parker at the hospital then he would have assumed Ben Parker to be the mystery man but alas, he did.

Unless Ben Parker could be in two places at once, he wasn't the mystery man.

He even talked to Benjamin Parker to confirm once, while the man was strong he didn't have the kind of twisted drive necessary to torture people.

He just didn't have it.

Besides, Mayweather had a lot of enemies, it could be any one of them or maybe there really weren't two people and it had been the same person all along. That would be the most practical answer but his gut instinct told him otherwise.

'There's just too much difference in the way they did things.' Then again his instinct had been wrong numerous times and this could be one of those times.

'Uh I don't know why I'm even doing this.' his train of thought was interrupted when he failed to tie his tie for the tenth time.

He always found it easier to do hard menial tasks than easier tasks that required a touch of finesse.

Fine control was always beyond him.

His giant calloused hands which had wrung a hundred men now couldn't tie a simple necktie.

He gave up on the idea and was about to throw it away when James said meekly, "Sir If I may?"

He looked at him for a second, he trusted him, almost blindly at this point, he was almost like a son to him but one can never be too sure.

If he had a blade under his sleeve, he could...

The memory of Vanessa telling him to open up to people more, flashed through his head.

'She's right, If I want to be Mayor. Then I have to start trusting my men more and If I can't trust James then I can't trust anyone!"

He exposed his chin to the Spectacled man.

James with practiced expertise moved his hands and did his magic in a couple of seconds.

The red tie accentuated his white suit quite well. He was glad that he let James do it for him.

"You look good sir! I'm sure Ms Marianna will appreciate you dressing up."

'I hope so!' he thought but didn't respond to the man, affirming with a nod instead.

For a long time he felt alone and angry, the world was his enemy and he it's tormentor.

A rage fuelled monster that destroyed everything it touched!

A year ago all he wanted to do was takeover the entirety of New York with his newly formed Tracksuit mafia.

A year ago he would have said killing his former boss and mentor Don Rigoletto was his greatest memory.

All that changed when he met Vanessa.

She wasn't afraid of him like the others were!

She spoke her mind and shared her thoughts, asking him to do better and be better.

There wasn't a time of the day where he didn't miss her or didn't want to feel her touch or see her smile.

'The great Kingpin, brought down to his knees by an art dealer. Heh' he smirked

'Wonder what Pa would think of me now?....hmm would he just insult me like he always did?'

"Sir, what about Peter Parker?"

.

.

.

"Who?" he grunted.

"The boy at the hospital sir…."

"Oh...him. Leave him, we're stretched thin as is. Besides, moving in on a citizen is not something the DA would ignore."

One of his moles in the force let him know of an anonymous call to the police commissioner and DA's office. Even one of his sources in the Daily Bugle reported the exact same call. The man's voice was distorted but clear enough to make out.

The Information contained details about a pimp called Curtis Mayweather dealing drugs using his prostitute as mules.

The new DA has been making it very hard for him to move his merchandise and has been lately making noise about the rampant corruption and crime.

If it wasn't for that tip, then the boy and his uncle would be six feet deep in the dirt.

Since his Uncle saved one of Curtis's women, the police would expect retribution and must have assigned beat cops to monitor them. He could have them killed nonetheless but that included certain risks! Risks that he simply couldn't afford to take now.

'He's tough though!'

He had to give it to the kid, he had balls.

More experienced men have cried when they found themselves in that shoulder hold.

'Besides It was just teenage imprudence, when I was his age I was much worse. Picking fights with everyone I saw.'

"We have too many operations running now. First we take care of this 'daredevil' and then move accordingly to the plan. Anything else is a distraction at this point."

"Very well Sir."

'You're a lucky kid. Both you and your hero Uncle. More than you can ever imagine.'

He had it all figured before, all the contingencies planned out but one by one new problems arose.

First this 'daredevil' as the media calls him these days.

Then it's Tony Stark with his endorsement of Francis de Blasio as the mayor, a position he coveted.

All the while the DA Mike Pondsmith was still being a giant pain in the ass.

That's where Curtis Mayweather or as he idiotically called himself Cool Weather came in.

Curtis's plan was simple: he would distribute the product directly using his 'hoes'.

It was perfect for him, he could avoid getting his hands directly dirty.

In return he gave Mayweather a condo and rooms for his ladies to operate in at his private hotel. Every room in the hotel was bugged, the dirt could be used as substantial political leverage.

It was a solid plan all things considered.

However the main reason he accepted Curtis Mayweather into his gang was so that he could be the perfect scapegoat.

He was the perfect catspaw.

A black violent pimp with drug connections being the underworld mob boss running New York, he would be on the FBI's most wanted list before the Bugle could print his face on the papers. They would all gladly eat it up and forget about Wilson Fisk.

This cesspit of a city wouldn't care if he became the Mayor as long as it could blame someone else for it's problems and if it that someone was a black human trafficking drug dealer then all the better.

Not even the DA could touch him if that were the case.

Killing Mayweather and then pinning it all on him would be the most optimal way of going about it.

That way he could clean his hands from crime, become a legitimate politician and run for public office.

Effectively Curtis Mayweather would martyr himself to become the actual kingpin in the eyes of the public.

It was such a simple but effective plan.

*Sigh*

'I had so much hope for you Curtis.'

The anonymous tip essential crushed any usefulness Mayweather had. The anonymous tipper was most definitely the mystery man.

He's the only one who would know.

Curtis swore he didn't tell him anything but he knew when a man was lying to save his own hide.

'You were supposed to ease my troubles, not add to them.'

The only reason he didn't actively search for the mystery man was because the tip didn't mention anything about the Kingpin!

All the information was about the delivery method and how one of the mob bosses in New York was the one financing it.

If it weren't for this little fact he would make hunting him down the top priority.

As much as it grated him, he had to let go of this one.

'That's right, I have bigger fish to fry.'

He had to pick his enemies carefully and this one was not worth his time!

Thankfully he kept a safe distance from all of his enforcers; which included Mayweather.

Never talking to anybody on the phone, completely insulating himself from the street. The only person he had regular contact with was James. He simply couldn't trust anyone else.

He just couldn't take that risk since the government's recent RICO act.

If the district attorney could get one of his people to flip on him then the government would seize all of his wealth.

With his wealth gone, a substantial part of power deteriorates.

Just like that. Everything he built, gone.

Oh and he gets sentenced to twenty years.

'Crime really doesn't pay these days. Especially drug trafficking.'

Twenty years away from Vanessa? He would rather take his life if it comes to that.

'Not before burning down this rotten city!'

Just when he thought everything was going smoothly, this new incident happened.

Wilson Fisk's fist tightened.

"What about Curtis's women?" Wilson remembered

"Sir they're at a hotel, one of them is missing though! Should I send someone to take care of it?"

"That won't be necessary, they don't know anything. Also we can be sure Pondsmith is personally watching them like a hawk. We can't risk it." He's not stupid.

He wouldn't just forget about the women that easily.

They would definitely be on the lookout for those women. Thereby losing the surprise factor which was half the point of the whole thing.

So he couldn't even use them for drops again if he wanted to.

The whole system that he meticulously developed was now useless!

*Heavy breathing*

One day he would snap that uppity Harvard educated son of bitch Mike Pondsmith's neck.

'Calm down Wilson.' Vanessa's voice came to him like an angel's voice.

Instantly pacifying him.

What matters the most now is becoming the mayor and building a life with vanessa. Everything else is unimportant!

"And the pimp?"

Wilson Fisk's eyes grew colder.

"Dispose of him. He's a vulnerability to me at this point. Clean out his condo and refurbish it for one of the guards. Now if you don't mind I have a date to attend!"

"Of course sir!" Wesley bowed his head.