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Chapter 20– Making Waves.
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"Wesley," Wilson says, addressing his most trusted confidant.
"Yes, Wilson. What can I help you with?" Wesley responds immediately, not wasting any time. James Wesley was a well-dressed, sophisticated man who appeared to always be in control, which he always wad. But he was in control for Wilson Fisk and helped manage the Kingpin's businesses.
"Have you dealt with the problem?" Wilson said, expecting results. He demands perfection from his right-hand man, and Wesley has always provided before.
"...Problem? There are a lot of them, but we are solving the most sensitive issues one by one. The Stokes have recently been hit by the Daredevil, so I am supplying some men from another gang to tide them over for now. There have also been a few issues with some pro bono law firms in Hell's Kitchen trying to bring a lawsuit against Union Allied Construction, but I have already contacted Parish to-"
"I meant the Batman. Why isn't he dead yet?" Wilson stifled a scoff at the name. Batman. As if there were not enough problems in New York already, but anybody thinks they can put a word before man and change the world. Fisk already knew that the Batman had not been dealt with yet, but he still asked. The man was a master of politics, social interactions and crime. He knew how to command a situation, how to manipulate it to the result he wanted and to intimidate to the precisely needed amount.
"I... He is very capable. As much as, if not more, than Daredevil. His actions are sporadic, and he is not working in an organised way. He is not coordinating his attacks to bring us the biggest damage. He is just attacking seemingly at random. Daredevil is hard to beat, but we can make plans to account for him since he is predictable, but we cannot predict Batman." Wesley explains as if explanations are enough. They are not, not when his business is being attacked.
"That is not what I asked, Wesley. I am asking why this man is still alive. He might not be attacking in a compounding way, but he is attacking multiple rings and damaging them. The sheer amount of assaults had begun to diminish our profits. Not even Spider-Man or Daredevil have affected my empire this much. He has attacked my organisation every night since the day after his raid on the AIM facility for the past month. He should have been dealt with after that attack. Instead, he cost us a source of high-tech weaponry and advanced technology and has continued to attack us." The most stinging act of the newly revealed nuisance is his assault on the AIM facility, which completely destroyed that avenue of resources.
"Sir, I am sure we can reestablish contact with AIM again. After all, we have something they need, and we want what they have to offer. This time our process will be more stringent and secretive. I will make sure of it." Wesley proclaims, eager to find something else to help Wilson's mood and distract him from his failure.
"Do not be foolish, Wesley. I thought you were smarter than that. The service we provided was nothing special. There are innumerous undesirables the world over, and nobody would look twice if they were to disappear. Anyone could have provided them with what they needed, they could have got it themselves, but those scientists don't want to spend time on anything but their experiments. We have permanently lost that avenue, so I want this man dead." Fisk explains and then demands, angry about such a significant loss.
"Sir, I had bolstered the number of men at all of our major operations due to the Batman's actions, but it had no effect. He is too strong, too fast. No matter how many men we may be able to station, they will not have any effect on him. Only someone like Bullseye or one of the other super-powered beings under us would have an effect, but we have no idea where he will attack, and so we don't know where to place them" Wesley is genuinely distraught. He is the point of contact between all the criminal elements and Wilson Fisk, who still maintains the legitimate mask of a businessman. The underlings have been harassing him for help, and he has had nothing to offer.
"Wesley, you still have a lot to learn. All you have been doing this entire time is reacting and not acting. Like a frog at the bottom of the well, staying in its place, never leaving the well. Waiting till something else comes into the well, and then either fighting it or dying to it. The frog should have ventured out of the well long ago instead of wasting away in fear. Do you understand, Wesley?" Sometimes, you cannot be direct. Saying things blatantly can often have the opposite effect, and people will turn away from it. People do not like to be told their realities. It is better to lure them in and let them discover it for themselves with a few nudges.
"Order a meeting for tonight, Wesley. I shall speak personally and dictate our actions going forward and resolve this problem."A plan is coming to fruition, one which will not fail and will have the desired effect. Wilson knows what needs to be done and how. Daredevil would not fall for such a scheme, but this new element is wild and aggressive. Which makes him vulnerable.
"Ah, speaking of resolutions. The Hardy girl has finished with her final heist and has acquired all the items needed. We no longer have any need for her skills or talents, though it would be a shame to rid ourselves of such an asset. How do you want to deal with her?" Wilson looked at his desk in thought, eyeing the ancient tablet on his desk. The thing that would give him his ultimate goal. Everything he has accomplished, everything he has worked for, is all just a fraction of what the tablet had to offer him.
Wilson Fisk, the poor fat child whose father was a crack addict. He had to commit his first murder at the age of twelve just to survive. From the start, Fisk was determined to be the best in whatever he did, and he believed physical strength to be a significant factor in building power in the world. Hence, he fanatically trained himself in various methods of bodybuilding and personal combat, finally concentrating on the Japanese art of sumo, which perfectly suited him.
In addition to his devotion to physical strength, Fisk realised the importance of intelligence while young. Being from a poor family, Fisk's formal education was limited. But he didn't let that stop him. He became self-taught, acquiring or borrowing and sometimes outright shoplifting books from libraries or bookstores in whatever he could find. Although Fisk learned a great deal in sciences and arts, he became particularly fascinated by political science.
He decided that another key to success would be in using political techniques in organising and directing groups of criminals. By the age of fifteen, his use of administrative processes to manage his growing gang of criminals earned him the nickname the Kingpin of Crime.
Fisk took control of and merged juvenile gangs that were used to run drugs for the various mafia families, started a minor drug war, and manipulated two mayoral candidates in an attempt to secure power and connections for himself. He began working for a Maggia boss, Don Rigoletto, as his bodyguard and enforcer. It was not long before he took over the operations of the Don Rigoletto and had him killed. And so began his empire, which blossomed into the unstoppable force it was today.
But all of that, everything he had done will seem significant before the power of this tablet. Then he will have indeed risen to the top, he would be unstoppable, and all would fall within his palm. But, unfortunately, the tablet was just a piece of a whole, useless without the other parts. But the location of those pieces remained unknown.
"Get Ms Hardy on the phone. I believe we should have a conversation and decide on her future going forward."
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In an undisclosed location, somewhere on the planet Earth, is a room where one of the most influential men in the world sits. Though contrary to his status, the room is bare. Grey metallic walls on all sides, a single fluorescent bulb in the ceiling powerful enough to light the entire room up. There are no windows, nothing on the walls and hardly anything on the floor.
All that decorates the room is a single desk placed near the back of the room, opposite the single-door entrance to the room. Suprsinglgyly disproportionate to the rest of the room's drab appearance, the desk is wooden with a certain elegance to it due to its carvings and indentures. In front of the desk is a single incredibly uncomfortable-looking metal chair, which anyone who has ever sat in it can attest to. Conversely, behind the desk is a single leather chair, but what was unique about this chair was not the chair itself but the man that sat in the chair.
A man with an eyepatch over his left eye, dressed in all black to better blend with the shadows, with a large black leather duster underneath which could have been a whole host of dangerous items. Nicholas Joseph Fury sat behind his desk, working on the documents on top of his desk. He looked very well for a man that had lived through the second world war, but that is what the Infinity Formula does for you. Unfortunately, being long-lived is not as satisfactory as most people would think, and Nick Fury has learnt this over countless years.
Hearing the sound of the door opening, Fury calmly but swiftly puts his pen down and then relaxes back into his chair, placing his hands on the armrest of his chair. Next, he subtly manoeuvred his finger over one of the hidden buttons on the chair, ready to press it at a moment's notice should it be needed.
Walking into the room is a statuesque woman with the grace of a gazel and yet a lion's deadliness. The red-headed woman was dressed in a completely black, specially made jumpsuit fit to her exact requirements and loaded with all the weapons she needed.
"Romanov. Excellent work on your last assignment." Fury says, nodding to Natasha, the Black Widow. She does impeccable work, one of his top operatives that had just finished their last operation. He knew she was coming. He expected her at this exact time, and yet he does not stop his finger from hoovering over the button. Fury has learnt many times over the years that there is no such thing as trust, only naivety. It pays to be prepared against everything, and safety is no reason to be lax.
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"Thank you, Director Fury. What is my next mission?" A superb set of skills, excellent judgement, deadly abilities and a willingness to do what is necessary, the perfect subordinate. The Red Room indeed did affect work, unethical, but effective. He could not deny their methods, no matter how despicable. They made the perfect operative, too perfect. Fury made it a point to consciously not trust her too much, at least inwardly though he may present differently outwardly, as he does with everyone.
"Yes, your next mission. Everything you need is in the folder. I trust you to handle this operation on your own. We do not have the man force to spare." He says, reaching into one of his desk drawers and placing a folder on the desk. She comes forward and grabs hold of it, Fury preparing to press the button should she make any overt movements, but she merely falls back and stands a distance away. She does not take a seat, and neither does he offer one to her. The chair is meant as an attack on people he wants to interrogate without actually doing so, and she knows this.
"Batman? There are more and more superheroes coming out of the woodwork every day. So why are we investigating this one? We have left others such as Spider-Man and Daredevil alone, leaving them with their autonomy as they do low-level work that we do not have time to do, and this one looks much the same," She enquires, correct in her judgement. Indeed after some low-level enquiries into the street-level heroes, they are left alone to continue the work they do. But this time, he wants a proper investigation into Batman.
"It is because he is not like the others. Spider-Man and Daredevil go out on patrols, helping whoever they can. Their goal is to protect others and take down criminals. Batman is similar but different. He is not patrolling. He is hunting." After a light skim of the folder, she answers her own question a second later, discovering exactly why she is being sent to investigate this new element. Such an aggressive new person must be investigated and quantified.
"Standard rules apply. I will leave the actual operation to you. Carry it out, however you deem fit. Simply observe and investigate. However, if needed, do not initiate contact in a non-hostile environment, and do not make contact when he is not in his heroic persona. Do not let him know when you learn his identity and give him the privacy he is due, and do not put it in any reports. Only inform me in person. We want to gather information on him, not alienate him." Fury dictates, very specific in what it is he wants, not needing to waste words on other things that should already be understood.
They do not need Batman knowing they are already on his trail either, which is why contact, if required, should only be made in a hostile situation. That way, Batman will not think his agent is there for him precisely as he cannot be sure. Romanov may be there for Batman's current enemy instead.
"Understood, sir." Then, without any further words, Romanov departs and exits the room to get started on her next assignment. Fury watches her leave, his finger still not leaving its position over the button, not even after she had left the room. If there was one thing Fury had learnt over the years, it is that no one is entirely trustworthy or even infallible, himself included. In fact, himself especially, given he has been getting blackmailed since the end of World War 2 though thankfully the demands or not heavy.
Ridding himself of less-than-pleasant memories, Fury quickly pressed a button on the underside of his desk, doing a deep scan of the room to ensure it was secured. Which it is, no extra weight added, no objects and no bugs, the green light to go ahead is given. Next, Fury reaches into the inside of his trenchcoat and pulls a device out with a singular button which he presses, doing a second scan of the room, and he gets the all-clear.
Putting the device away, he picks up his pen and gets back to business. While losing people over the years, dealing with annoying bastards every day and stifling the plans of madmen were all some of the worst things that came with such a long life, dealing with paperwork was also very up there. Writing his papers, the minutes tick by slowly, but it has to be done.
Once more, the sound of the door opening echoes through the room, and Fury puts down his pen and resettles his hands once again on the armrest of his chair, settling his finger over the button again. Similarly, the meeting was arranged, Fury was expecting the person to enter the room, and again Fury was being cautious, even against one of his most loyal agents.
"Director, what did you want to ask of me?" Maria Hill asks, walking forward to stand at rest in front of the desk, the perfect picture of discipline and order. She is dressed in the same jumpsuit as all of the other Shield agents, except her outfit is different in the fact that it is pitch black, and the secondary colours are dark grey. Another femme fatale with pale skin, short black hair and blue eyes. She is a loyal and stringent operative.
"How is the observation of subject 35 progressing?" The director of Shield asks. The identity of the person in question is unknown entirely and simply labelled as a number. Such information has to be well kept and limited to only those who need to know, which is the operatives that gathered the information and who they reported it to, which was him. Information was power, and the more obscure the information, the more powerful it was. Such information is on a need-to-know basis. Only when it is crucial and pertinent will it maybe be revealed.
"We have kept up surveillance of the subject, though we have had to cut back seriously. The subject discovered our more invasive methods of surveillance and destroyed them. Thankfully the subject does not suspect us and believes it was done by a third party. We have since kept surveillance strictly manual methods and technological methods that can't be detected." Maria Hill says, answering professionally. Straight to the point, no bullshit, a good agent but not someone he would be able to trust running Shield as a whole, which is why he is still here after all these years at the reins, waiting for someone appropriate for the station to take over.
"What methods are these? Is there no chance of subject 35 discovering them?" Fury asks, concerned. Subject 35 is a very important possible asset, though much about them is unknown. This is why observation is necessary, but if it is discovered, then a potential asset becomes a possible enemy.
"We are monitoring his daily activities with multiple agents placed throughout the city, strictly observation and nothing else. Tailing is kept to a minimum. None of the agents knows anything about the subject, only his description and information needed to observe them." Again, Agent Hill dutifully answers.
"Good. Do not let anyone know any more information about the subject. Keep everything under wraps. I am trusting you with this mission, Hill, do not scare the subject off. Carry on as you were." And with that dismissal, Agent Hill gives a nod, turns about face and exits the room. Fury once again scans the room using the in-built function under his desk and then the device he keeps on his person, after which he resumes his paperwork.
Silently writing word after word in monotonous form, Fury thinks about the ongoing situation and the possible results from it and whether those results could benefit Shield or perhaps even damage it. But, of course, being the director and being in charge, you have to think about a lot of perspectives and decide whether specific opportunities should be nudged along or entirely cut off.
This new situation was one such situation that could go either way, and Fury had decided to take a wait-and-see approach. The benefits Subject 35 could provide Shield could be immense, but alternatively used against Shield, the subject could do severe damage to infrastructure with their skills. But, of course, either option was possible with the actions the subject had taken so far, which is why they had to keep up surveillance and determine which way the subject is leaning, so they could cut off the threat before it manifested or nudge it along to become a strong ally. Then, hopefully, Fury could gain a partner that would work purely at his discretion without being known to the rest of Shield, a secret-secret agent.
Sighing, Nicholas Joseph Fury finishes his last report, pacing his pen to the side and gathering his documents together. Pressing something under his desk, a compartment opens up in which he places the papers, and then he closes it, hiding the reports away. Pressing another button, a holographic keyboard and screen appear on his desk, and he immediately gets to work.
With the factual and correct reports being done and hidden away, never to grace anyone's eye except his own in the future, he starts to compile and manufacture entirely new reports. Official reports which would be stored on Shield databases, with important and sensitive information being discluded from it.
Indeed, being the director of Shield was tiring. However, Fury could not wait to finally hoist this responsibility onto someone else and finally get a vacation. Thankfully, he has a few candidates in mind.
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I calmly sip my coffee while looking out of the window and watching the busy New York roads, people rushing by with their own problems. It was calming, even somewhat of a relief, knowing that each of these people had their own worries and concerns. Their own lives where they didn't bother anyone else and only focused on themselves and those close to them, such a life is quite envious. No crime organisations, no super meetings on rooftops, no deadly fights, just peace and satisfaction in living a good life.
I take another sip of my coffee, happy for the respite that had been quite helpful during this past month, where I had been very active and constant. This shop, the Daily Grind Coffee Bar, has become my relaxation space which I go to every day to relax, to wind down from the stressful undertakings I take on the night previous.
For the past month, I have been on a relentless pursuit on all crime related to Fisk in New York City, which isn't that hard to find when pretty much all crime is related to Fisk in New York City. Just have to beat up a few thugs that look to be somewhat organised, and from there, the spider web unravels, little by little being led to more significant and worse crimes and taking them down. I have gotten very good at being as efficient as possible on my late-night escapades, which involve a heavy amount of brutality to put them down quickly. After all, I have no time to waste on scrubs.
Overall there has not much resistance over the past month. No secret organisations or agents to deal with. Just regular scum that goes down with a good hit, but even they build up. Not physically, they are not even a challenge, but mentally I have been burdened a lot. Day after day of hitting and kicking, just pure violence and nothing else, is not good. So to destress every day, I come here to this coffee shop, and I have a coffee, and look out the window and just take twenty minutes to relax before getting on with the rest of my day and going to my multiple martial arts lessons.
As for Felicia, well, I don't really know. Nothing has really happened since our trip to the mall because I have honestly not seen much of her. For the past month, while I have been busy with taking down Fisk's operation, she has been busy working for Fisk. So this last month, I have hardly seen her, she is sleeping during the day, and then at night, she is going out. So I only really see her when she returns, and she looks dead tired, so I leave her be.
Apparently, instead of giving her an actual job or mission, Fisk gave her a simple objective. To find a specific object, I have no idea what that is, and I also don't care. All I know is that she is beat, and when we see each other returning late and totally wiped out from our activities, we only give a light greeting and then retreat to our rooms. I thought we were friends, but that day at the mall changed things, and I realised that it was really fun. So after that, I have kept my distance and not tried to get any closer. I don't want a reason to stay. I don't want to stay in New York longer than needed, I am just staying to help Felicia and repay her for helping me out, and then I am gone.
"Hey, Ben. Enjoying your coffee?" Hearing a voice, I look up, and I see a woman approaching.
"Hey, Jessica. How are you?"