Fisk opened his eyes to ask what the young woman in front of him was going to demand of him... and found she was already gone. Even the black barrier on the door behind her had melted away.
He sighed. He knew his position was now kept at the grace of the High Guard... and they weren’t his backers. They were waiting for him to trip up, to do something stupid, and he would die so smoothly he would have no idea how it happened.
How they’d stumbled onto the plans to influence the boards of those companies was now immaterial, it was done.
“Gentlemen, if you could return. I have come into possession of some information relevant to our activities...”
His phone rang soon thereafter. The inspectors, with an armed escort, had arrived to shut down his building, his mark upon the city, and condemn it. He could feel the rumors and mockery starting already, as the corruption he represented had been turned back upon him, and nobody was going to believe he wasn’t responsible for this farce.
He was sure there’d been no corners cut on his building. He was also absolutely sure that if the High Guard wanted there to be a soft foundation, so be it...
----------------
The Mountain put away the stack of hundreds calmly, and reached out to touch the cement encasing the central pillars of Fisk Tower.
He didn’t close his stony grey eyes, tapping it with his thumb hard enough to make the concrete chip.
Wilson Fisk stood there and let the huge ‘brick’ do his job. While he might look down on The Mountain as just muscle, he knew that disdain was returned by the man in front of him, and Mr. Hill had all the power and experience on his side. Fisk had even waved his bodyguards away while around Mr. Hill, as they were not useful in the slightest, and he wasn’t going to insult The Mountain by bringing in some inadequate Powered to actually do the job.
“Huh,” Mr. Hill said, looking the block of cement up and down. “Yer fucked, Fisk, and yer probably right. The cement in there isn’t set, and even if you cured it instantly right now, the lean is already in place. You’d push the fall off a few years, but it’s still coming down.
“It’s all a little too perfectly done, ain’t got the random shit that real concrete does. Someone went in and messed around with it, in my opinion, but there’s nothing ta prove it. They didn’t even need ta push the building over, just shift the fluidity and let the wind do the rest. A good earthquake or a big rumble of a fight, and if the corner supports are the same way, this building could fall right over.
“It’s gotta come down as soon as possible. Delaying is just gonna get people killed, and you know where that’s gonna land you if it was one of the high-ups who did this.”
“How many people do you know who could do something like this?” Fisk asked. He was displeased, of course, but he’d already digested the fact, and knew there was no way out. If they wanted his building down, it was coming down.
“Twenty, thirty. Buncha earthmovers, alchemists, magic guys. Marco and Bench working together could do it, easy, just need to make the starter hole, maybe start below ground. I got no water chops to do the same, although I could powder the stuff up in there if I needed to. But if I need ta bring it down, I’d just bring it down, no waiting around like this and getting fancy and making it look like contractor fraud.”
“Could it be corrected?” Fisk asked, resigned but curious.
The Mountain rubbed his brick of a jaw. “The answer is yeah, depending on who you call. Curing the stuff fast, a decent spellcaster could do, maybe even Bench. The problem is the lean. That would take major chops to deal with, and the number of guys who can fix both is down to under five. Soon’s they realize why it is this way, they’ll just tell you to suck it up, too. Do you know who you pissed off?”
“Your business manager, Miss Ouilette, among others.”
Hill shot Fisk a look, and then just shook his head. “I ain’t seen her pull off transmutations like this, but she’s an alchemist, definitely could do so. This about money, or personal?”
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Wellllll, its both money, and I take it personally.
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“Money. If it was personal, I have the feeling I would now be in a grave.”
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“Well, it wasn’t Grimm Materials money, or she’d’a told me. You know she runs money for Stark, the Savages, and the rest of the High Guard, right?”
“I was regretfully unaware that her interests extended beyond the Richards and yourself, and I steered clear of your business interests,” Fisk replied grimly. Lack of information could mean everything in business, after all.
“That was smart of you. You woulda come inta work to find your little tower here flattened to the ground if you were messing with my money.” Hill turned towards a corner of the building. “You want verification on the corners?” he asked gruffly.
“It is what I paid for. I am more curious as to the extent of what they did than skeptical there is more,” Fisk professed.
“Smart.” Hill started off through the parking garage with strides kept short enough that the shorter, fatter man, who was not actually short or fat at all, could keep pace. Fisk reflected that only with superhumans did he ever feel small next to someone. “You want a quote for the demolition?” Hill asked him directly.
“Given your relationship, I’m sure Miss Ouilette would be... grimly amused that she is being paid to clean up something she set into motion,” Fisk winced, but it was what it was.
“I’m serious about money. It’ll be a fair quote, Fisk,” Hill waved his hand. “Marco is real good on clean-up, too. Once the pillars are cut and the wet crete is exposed, we can power-cure it and leave it in the ground instead of having to dig it out, too, save some time and removal fees.”
“She remarked that there were three bodies mixed into the foundation.” Mr. Hill didn’t bat an eye at the news. “I’d prefer they remained there, all things being equal,” Fisk said evenly.
“If they’re deep enough, no skin off my nose,” Hill agreed. “We should be able ta handle it right that you can even rebuild on the same site, although I don’t think it would be too smart of you ta do so.”
Wilson Fisk considered that, and found himself concurring. “I do plan on leasing my next corporate headquarters, but there is, shall we say, a remarkable bias against renting a good chunk of the city’s real estate to me. Word has gotten out, and rents have risen accordingly.”
“You own enough buildings that it shouldn’t be an issue to ya,” Hill grunted, as they reached the first corner post. He put out his big hand, and tapped with his thumb again. “Huh...” He looked up. “What floor is your office on?” he asked narrowly.
“The twenty-sixth?” Fisk replied, his eyes narrowing.
“Huh. Girl mighta saved your life.” Hill turned and strode east for the next pillar, and Fisk hastened to catch up.
“Explain, Mr. Hill?” he asked respectfully.
“How much faith you got in your steel providers?” Hill asked him back.
Fisk frowned. “I’ve never had a problem acquiring steel to the standards I’ve set,” he replied diplomatically. If that meant it was sometimes under code, kickbacks were a nice way to make a profit on building projects.
“And you didn’t skimp on the building?” Hill inquired calmly, not fooled in the least.
“No. This building was going to be my legacy. I wanted it to last a hundred years, at least!” Fisk replied strongly.
“I can feel something going wrong with the metal, starting up around the twentieth floor. I’ll have to go up there to get a better read, but from down here it feels like someone used some cheaper steel on your upper floors, Fisk.”
The Kingpin said nothing, but swore to himself. Using poor steel on the lower floors would lead to collapse, but on the upper floors would take years to show signs of decay and sway.
He knew all the names of the people who would be responsible for such a thing, but could not imagine they would dare to betray him in such a manner. “Could... this have been done by the same powers that churned up the concrete?” he asked in a reasonable manner.
“I’ll let ya know when I get a closer look. Lemme do what ya paid me for, Fisk.”
The Kingpin shut up and followed The Mountain around the underfloor of his building, his bad temper getting worse as he considered the possibilities.
-----
Tong! Tong!
The sound of the big finger echoing off the steel girder rang through half the building. The Mountain released his grip on the girder he’d bounced up to grab, and professionally slid the ceiling panel back in place above him after he dropped the short distance to the floor.
“About three-quarters of the girders are lower-grade steel with too much carbon in ‘em. The quality ones are scattered randomly among ‘em, no set pattern that I kin see. Crews probably had no idea they were putting in sham ones, Fisk. But all the pillar supports up here are using the lower grade, an’ that’s no accident.” Hill frowned thoughtfully. “You’d need ta actually get ‘em tested, but I think the steel is actually from two different sources.”
Fisk’s furrowed brow developed a new canyon. “You are saying... I was getting bad steel from two different sources?” he inferred gloomily.
“Those pillars are special ordered and cast. Someone had to mess around with the composition to lower it down ta where it is. The girders, now, thems are just a different grade being delivered and swapped in, like you started taking deliveries of the wrong stuff... or someone switched ‘em around on yer crew.
“If it was capes messing with ya, I can’t tell the difference. There’s metal bleed and fusion between the parts as you’d expect for steel under pressure fusing inta one another over time, and the corrosion and metal wear seems on point for the age of the building.
“Question for ya. I’m sure she mentioned the foundation, and the lean. Did she mention the sway?”
Fisk stared at the bigger man, blinking once, and leaned back slightly as he went over the previous conversation with Miss Ouilette. “She did not...” he recalled after a moment.
“Could be she’s playing with yer head. Could be she just fergot ta say anything. Could be she discovered it and is laughing ta herself. Or, it could be this is an older problem or two that could have really come down on you, an’ yer dumb bad luck of pissing off some capes has a silver lining.”
“Rest assured that I shall be making inquiries concerning this matter,” Fisk declared grimly. “Have you anything else for me, Mr. Hill?”
The Mountain tapped his big foot once, twice, and Fisk could feel the force of it through the floor as the massive mercenary looked slowly around, staring at a world Wilson Fisk could not see.
“I ain’t been paid to look at yer primary electrical system or plumbing in the upper floors,” Hill said thoughtfully, and Fisk’s expression got dangerous, indeed. “My suggestion? Get an arson expert to look at some of it, as well as a really good contractor.”
Fisk stared into the cold grey eyes of Mr. Hill, and prepared himself for some more interesting news. “Do you fit either of those categories, Mr. Hill?” he asked slowly.
“I do, although ain’t had much cause ta use fire for years, so I may be a bit rusty. Been putting a lot of buildings up recently, too. But, I suspect you know some pros who are much better at that kinda thing than me, so I’m not recommending me.”