He was sitting on his desk, and his fingers tapped on the keyboard of his computer. Each of his large fingers danced on the keys, and the man looked to his monitor with his eyes gazing upon the screen. He could see a vague reflection of himself, and the city of New York behind the window. His assistant was watching him, and not making a sound, as he worked.
The man was looking at multiple news reports by the Daily Bugle regarding the so called "Spider-Man" sightings occurring all around the city. He wasn't amused by this, as he had learned that the wall crawler had started to go after and destroy his operation, and he was not about to let that stand. He was Wilson Fisk, the billionaire philanthropist, and owner of Fisk Construction, but now to the media, and specifically The Daily Bugle, as The Kingpin of Crime.
Wilson's face slowly gazed upon an image of the wall crawler soaring through the skies of the city effortlessly. Wilson didn't want some person in red and blue tights messing with his empire in the city. To many New Yorkers, Fisk ruled the city with his massive construction business spanning all over the city, and its vast skyline, and with that business came his vast wealth. To them, it was like they were just renting the city Wilson had, and to many, he was like a king.
His face slowly turned to his assistant, but still carried the frown and narrowed eyes to him. His eyes slowly un narrowed, but only just a little to the man.
"Sir," He began. "We just got a live feed of Spider-Man fighting some of our men."
Wilson nodded, and snickered, "Again," He said. He slowly lifted his hand to signal him to show him the footage.
Wilson's assistant, James Wessely nodded, and presented his employer with a small tablet. Wilson took the tablet gently, and gazed upon the video showing the wall crawler fighting three or more men he had hired at the docks in Hell's Kitchen.
He merely stared at the screen without saying a word, and narrowed his eyes annoyed and enraged a man wearing nothing but a red and blue spandex costume fought and took down multiple highly trained men, all armed. He slowly put the end of a cigarette in his mouth, and he chewed on the end, and one of his large fists clenched.
It was clear to Wesely that his employer hated the wall crawler. Wilson ruled New York's underworld for years, and that helped amas his vast wealth. Criminals all over the city, and portions of the country feared him, and rightfully so. He has always had a large influence on the city. Who else with as much influence as he did ally himself with people like Norman Osborn, and be a big factor and lead in construction around New York and other major cities? No one had was like Wilson in terms of power, influence and strength.
"I've seen enough," Fisk said. He slid the tablet back to his assistant. The videos were only captured on security cameras, and he could barely see the fight, but he had seen enough to know what happened. He wasn't happy some of his men were beaten that badly. It looked utterly pathetic to him, and he clenched his fists in anger. He turned around, and stood up off of his chair, and walked to the window behind him, and he gazed upon the city. He saw his reflection vividly, as he gazed upon the island of Manhattan, and the many skyscrapers that spanned all over the city. He looked all around him to see the many skyscrapers around his tower from Midtown to the Financial District.
He gazed at the city in disgust knowing someone is out there, trying to destroy everything he's spent most of his life building. Thick storm clouds covered the skies, and the air was thick with anticipation. Fisk took a moment to gaze upon the eerily dark clouds, as rain began to fall. The skies were pouring rain down upon New York City. Residents of the city were most likely taking shelter in their homes or walking through the streets with umbrellas out, or taking taxis, or the subway.
Fisk didn't flinch or move, as the rain fell, and hit the window of his building. He stood in the top floor of Fisk Tower, which was located in Hell's Kitchen/Clinton. The skyscraper stood tall among New York's other iconic buildings from the Empire State Building to the Chrysler Building to even the MetLife building and Oscorp tower in Midtown.
All Fisk was thinking of was Spider-Man. He needed to come up with a plan to either kill or distract the wall crawler so he would be too busy to interfere with his empire of organized crime all along the city, and his construction business. He may be a crime lord, and now accused of many horrible things, but he loved the city very much, and sought to it to try his best to make it a better place.
He slowly turned back to his assistant, and he gazed upon a photo of him, with his wife Vanessa, and their son Richard, whom he loved more than anything in the world. He wanted to make sure they were safe above all else, but both didn't know of his criminal records or activities, and made sure they didn't know of the allegations regarding him. He gazed at the photo, and remembered the day he had met Vanessa at an art gallery, and the day they had gotten married. He slowly put the cigarette back in his mouth, and lit the end of it, and smoke emitted instantly. He inhaled the smoke, and took the cigar out of his mouth, and breathed out, letting the smoke roam free into the air.
He looked to Wesely, and to his employer, he looked like he had no soul. "See to it that this Spider-Man is killed. If anyone knows who he is, put a bullet in their heads too," Fisk ordered.
"Yes sir. I think we have a good opporative for the job," Wessely explained.
Fisk looked to him, with his eyebrow slightly raised, "Who?" He asked quietly.
Wessely handed Fisk a file only seconds after he heard him ask. "His name is Herman Schultz. He's been wanted by the FBI for the last few months, and had built a pair of vibration gauntlets himself. Calls himself "The Shocker"," He explained.
Fisk had heard about Schultz and his methods once before. He wasn't sure however about his gauntlets and if they truly did what reports described they had done. Schultz wore a yellow mask, with goggles, a red hoodie, and a yellow quilt vest underneath, jeans, and black nike shoes, with the gauntlets on both of his arms.
However, Fisk knew about the reports of Osborn being attacked by The Vulture as the Daily Bugle branded him. Both however to Fisk were good options to hire, as the wall crawler would no doubt to him try to go after and take them down to make sure they wouldn't hurt anybody else. Though, no doubt they would cause a massive amount of collateral damage, which could prove risky to him, if the police arrest and interrogate him to see if either were hired or what they would want.
Fisk however looked back to his assistant, and handed him back the file, "See to it, Schultz is informed of his mission, and who his target is," He ordered coldly.
"Yes sir," Wessely nodded.
Schultz sat across from Wessely only a few hours later. The two were in a small diner in Brooklyn. The place was nicely lit, and Schultz was eating a nice cheeseburger, and fries, but Wessely sat across from him not eating or drinking anything. Schultz was confused, but didn't much care, as he had just assumed that he wasn't hungry. "Enjoying your meal?" He asked.
Schultz nodded, with a large piece of the burger in his mouth, and couldn't speak.
The criminal was confused as to why a man, like Wessely who worked for someone he didn't know would want to go to him for help. He was all in for making some more money, and getting to become a bigger name criminal in New York's underworld.
Wessely leaned forward on the white cloth covered table emotionless, like he was a statue. "So, your boss is wanting me to go in and kill a guy?" He asked.
"Very much so. My employer had heard of your many talents, and what you have done in the past with your vibration gauntlets," He explained.
Schultz was shocked that his boss knew about that. He knew thanks to the FBI he was a big name criminal, but not a major one. He had turned to a life of crime at a young age, as his father was a drunk and abusive jerk who beated him and his mother when he was angry. His mother passed away when he was in high school, and his father died of a heart attack when he was 17, and he became homeless. However, he soon learned in order to survive, he needed to do whatever it took. He had built a pair of vibration gauntlets with parts he stole from Oscorp, and thought they would help him become more of a professional criminal in the city. Though, that opportunity did intrigue in the man. He looked to Wessely with a confident smirk. "What's in it for me?" He asked.
Wessely merely smiled at Schultz's question, and gently lifted and present Shultz with a case. He slowly opened it, revealing stacks of dollars neatly wrapped together, "You will be paid handsomely for this," He explained.
Schultz gazed upon the money, and he knew this was too good to pass up. Schultz's main goal as a criminal was to gain a massive score for his efforts. He had tried literally everything from robbing banks to atms to even jewelry stores.
His fingers gently pressed against the money, and he loved every second. The tips pressed against the ink of one of the bills, and some of the tape binding each set together. slowly looked up to Wessely with a sinister grin on his face. Wessely didn't need to be told that he was in for the job.
"Excellent," He said.
"Why me though?" He asked.
Wessely chuckled, "We felt you would be simply perfect for this operation since we had just discussed about your exploits in the past."
Schultz leaned back in his chair, as he felt honored by that, "So, who do I owe the pleasure of killin' for your boss?" He asked.
Wessely handed Schultz a photo of who he was going after. Schultz gazed at the photo, and snickered. "You're tellin' me to go after some dude in his pajamas?" He asked.
"We wouldn't be having this conversation if I didn't," Wessely replied.
Schultz nodded, and chuckled, "Didn't think I'd ever go to doin' things like this for-"
"We don't say his name," Wessely cut him off.
Schultz rolled his eyes, "Sheesh. Didn't know that your boss hated his name being blurted out."
Wessely didn't respond to him, but instead starred at Schultz, like he was staring into his soul.
Schultz rolled his eyes, "Whatever man. The guy may sound like he doesn't want to be blurted out, but we at least know who I'm referring to."
That however was true. Fisk didn't want to make his criminal records known to the public. Not that it mattered however, seeing as a large portion of the NYPD were being paid off by him, and he owned a few of the papers that were printing the allegations that had leaked recently, and making it so that the charges he was facing were nothing but lies. He may have had pretty much most of New York City in his pocket, but that didn't stop the newspapers like The Daily Bugle, New York Bulletin, New York Times, and other news stations from reporting him as a ruthless crime lord that controls a large portion of the city's underworld.
Fisk currently was staring into a portrait he had bought long ago. It meant a lot to him personally, and all he did was gaze upon the painting. It was a simple white painting, but it meant more to the woman who sold it to him, and himself. It was the painting that he had bought from the art gallery where he met Vanessa, and fell in love with her.
He loved the portrait, as it was described as a rabbit in a snowstorm by his wife. It was purely white, as snow with gray accents indicating the shadows of the storm. She may not know that he was a criminal, but she was happy that she could see it again everyday in his tower. Vanessa loved Wilson with all of her heart, and the two loved their son, Richard just as much.
"Sir," Fisk had heard one of his men behind him.
"What is it?" Fisk asked, not turning around to look.
"Wessely managed to get Schultz on board the job," The man explained to him.
Fisk merely smirked in a smug manner, "Excellent. See to it our new friend's weaponry gets some improvements," He ordered.
"Yes sir. I'll let Mason know," He nodded and walked away from his boss, and opened the doors out of the elegant room, and into the hallway.
All Fisk did was stare at the portrait, but all he could think of was Schultz killing Spider-Man, and that made him smile.