"You really shouldn't have let Wesley go," Frank said, his voice flat as he stared at the fading silhouette of the man vanishing down the street.
Robert tilted his head slightly. "Why not? We got paid."
Frank narrowed his eyes. "Kingpin's not the kind of man who lets bygones be bygones. People who deal with him… they don't usually end well. Vladimir is proof of that."
To emphasize his point, Frank gestured toward the body of the Russian mobster, still sprawled on the ground like a discarded bag of trash.
Robert scratched the back of his head and muttered, "Yeah, but I'm the one who killed Vladimir. Not Kingpin. If anything, that makes me the threat."
Frank went silent.
Right. He forgot about that part.
Before the awkward silence could linger, Wade interjected, "So, just to recap: Kingpin gave us five million. We're doing fifty-fifty, right? That's two-point-five mil each."
Robert raised an eyebrow. "Nope. Five million's all mine. That was a private negotiation."
Wade blinked. "You're serious?"
"Dead serious," Robert replied. "We agreed to split the bounty money. That five million was not a bounty. It was a private ransom."
Wade looked betrayed. "Without my brilliant acting, Little Four-Eyes would never have believed your 'fake prisoner' routine. You owe me!"
"Oh please," Robert snapped. "That raise was all me. My silver tongue, baby. That's what got us paid."
"You silver-tongued little gremlin," Wade growled, pulling out both of his Katanas. "Draw your gun! I challenge you to honorable combat for compensation!"
Robert instantly whipped out his dual pistols. "You old red-suited con artist! Trying to hustle a hard-working 18-year-old like me? Shameless!"
As sparks of tension crackled in the air, Frank let out a long, exhausted sigh. The two morons were actually about to fight. For real.
Maybe their earlier "fake internal strife" hadn't been so fake after all.
Meanwhile, a few blocks away…
Wesley darted down an alley, glancing over his shoulder repeatedly. When he was sure he wasn't being followed, he let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.
Ten minutes later, a sleek black Cadillac eased to the curb beside him. Without hesitation, Wesley got in.
Inside, seated like a king on a throne of leather, was Wilson Fisk—better known as Kingpin. He was a massive presence, nearly filling the entire back seat. His hands rested on an elegant cane topped with a polished gemstone. He tapped the cane rhythmically, an unconscious tick betraying deep thought.
"Report," he said, voice low and measured.
Wesley took a breath. "It was the Asian man. Robert. He brought backup. They faked a capture scenario, lured us in, and wiped everyone out before I could even react."
Fisk didn't flinch.
Wesley continued, "And they weren't normal. They got shot in the head—and stood up like nothing happened. Full regeneration. I've never seen anything like it."
"Extraordinary regenerative ability," Fisk murmured, more to himself than to Wesley.
His gaze grew distant, calculating.
He'd dealt with mutants before—beings with unusual abilities—but regeneration that fast? That rare? That dangerous?
Fisk folded his hands over his cane and leaned back.
"Suppress news of Vladimir's death," he said. "Before Gao or Nobu respond, I want Vladimir's operations absorbed. No infighting. Fast and quiet."
Wesley nodded.
"And the mercenary?"
Fisk's fingers tapped once.
"Cancel all current operations involving him. Vladimir is dead—whatever leverage or evidence we hoped to use is worthless now. Keep eyes on him. He may be a useful asset."
Wesley straightened in his seat, posture returning to its usual poise. His near-death encounter with Robert had shaken him, but with Fisk's calm leadership grounding him again, he was back in his element.
Fisk turned toward the window, gazing out over Hell's Kitchen. His voice, when it came, was almost mournful.
"This city… it's sick. Diseased at its roots. You can't save it with kindness or prayer. You must raze it. Burn the rot. And only then… rebuild."
Back in the blood-slick building…
After a brief shouting match and some dramatic posturing, Robert finally threw Wade a bone. "Alright, fine. You get 20% of the ransom."
Wade instantly perked up. "You're a good man, little guy! A good man!"
He stuffed the cash into his tactical belt and practically skipped out, mumbling something about going home to Vanessa for "tax-deductible physical labor."
Robert turned to Frank, who was still standing by the door like a brooding statue.
"You coming?"
Frank gave a short grunt and fell into step beside him.
A few minutes later, the two walked down a dimly lit street. Frank's clothes were stiff with dried blood, his trench coat practically soaked through. Beneath the glow of flickering streetlamps, his appearance was downright terrifying.
Robert glanced sideways and winced. "Uh, don't take this the wrong way, but… your whole 'drenched in blood' look? Kinda unsettling."
"I've worn worse," Frank said, unfazed.
"Yeah, but I haven't walked next to worse," Robert replied. "And I'm getting weird looks. We should find you new clothes."
Frank gave him a suspicious look. "You brought a change of clothes?"
"Nope," Robert said cheerfully. "But I know how to get some."
He veered into a narrow alleyway. Frank hesitated… then followed.
Just ahead, a group of three street punks loitered beneath a neon sign, passing around cheap booze and laughing at something unintelligible. They didn't notice the two figures approaching until it was too late.
"Hey, losers," Robert called out.
The punks turned. One of them pulled a knife with theatrical flair. "You got a death wish, pretty boy?"
Robert casually raised his pistol and aimed.
"Bad news: this is a robbery. Good news: you're not losing your lives. Just your fashion sense. Line up. Brother Frank here needs new clothes."
He turned to Frank with a grin. "Need underwear too?"
Frank pinched the bridge of his nose.
The punks, still processing what was happening, glanced between the gun and the blood-soaked vigilante looming behind it.
"Don't try to be heroes," Robert said kindly. "One of you is wearing a Levi's hoodie that'll look amazing on him."
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