After returning to the office, Pepper Potts barely managed to push through her mountain of paperwork before heading straight for Tony's laboratory. According to security, the billionaire had only been back for a short while.
"Tony, something was wrong with the Wilson Fisk I met today," Pepper said the moment she saw him. She felt an urgent need to describe the encounter in detail.
"Who's Kingpin?"
Tony Stark set his glass down on the table and looked up at her. He had only just returned from the grueling atmosphere of Harrogath and wanted nothing more than a moment of peace. The name "Kingpin" didn't ring a single bell.
"Jarvis, bring up everything we have on 'Kingpin,'" Tony ordered casually. He pulled Pepper toward the sofa, easing her down beside him. While he didn't care much for a street-level mobster, he cared deeply about his Pepper. Spending a little time on this was a rational choice; he wasn't in a rush to dissect the high-tech wreckage in his lab just yet.
"Sir, 'Kingpin' refers to Wilson Fisk. Publicly a legitimate entrepreneur; 'Kingpin' is his title within the criminal underworld," Jarvis's voice resonated through the room as a holographic display flickered to life.
It was a meticulous list of Fisk's history. Judging by the sheer volume of criminal allegations and redacted files, the data had been "borrowed" directly from SHIELD's database.
"A mob boss? So, Pepper, what about him?" Tony took a small sip of his drink, his tone light and unimpressed.
"Happy said he was acting... bizarre. I didn't see it myself at first, but he behaved like a perfect gentleman. More like a man of noble birth than anyone else in that room," Pepper explained, her words slightly frantic.
"You have to understand, Pepper, not every rich person is as transparently brilliant as I am. A mob boss has to maintain a facade, especially when the IRS comes knocking to ask why his bank account looks like a phone number," Tony said dismissively. To him, Fisk's "empire" was small-time.
That was until his eyes drifted toward the combat analysis section of the file.
"What in the world...?" Tony's eyes widened. "Suspected physical capabilities exceeding those of Captain America? Did a SHIELD agent write this while drunk?"
He immediately turned back to the AI. "Jarvis, pull up the physical data for our favorite old-timer, Steve Rogers."
"Of course, Sir."
As the comparison charts appeared, Tony's skepticism grew. He knew Steve relied on the Super Soldier Serum for his transcendence. But Wilson Fisk? What was he using?
"By the way, Pepper, are you worried he has designs on Stark Industries?" Tony asked, though he didn't wait for an answer. "Even if he did, we wouldn't be his first target. Justin Hammer is far easier to bully, and even Oscorp is a more likely mark. Fisk isn't a stupid man."
Tony smirked, though internally he was surprised. Those who live on the mountain peaks rarely notice the dirt at the bottom—a realization that was starting to sink in. Why would the great Tony Stark care about a gang leader?
"I'm just... uneasy. Ever since I heard the stories from Happy, I've felt this cold knot in my stomach," Pepper whispered, her body trembling slightly.
It wasn't Fisk she was afraid of. It was an instinctive, soul-deep terror of a Sky-Hammer Worthy—a servant of Fear itself. But Pepper hadn't realized that yet.
"Alright, Pepper. You don't look good. How about a glass of warm milk and a long nap? You'll feel better in the morning," Tony said, leaning back against the sofa. He watched her tremble and began mentally drafting plans to build her some personal defense gear. Now that he had outed himself as Iron Man, the people close to him were permanent targets.
"Tony, I just wanted to talk to you about it," Pepper said, her voice laced with a hint of a pout. When faced with the inexplicable, she always turned to the person she trusted most.
"I know, Pepper." Tony opened his eyes and looked at her. He felt it was time to settle down. After witnessing the raw power of the Sorcerer Supreme and the Barbarians, he had matured faster than ever before. He understood now that personal power was more valuable than gold.
The playboy was ready to come home. "Pepper... would you stay the night?"
Pepper's voice was as quiet as a mosquito's hum. "Tony... isn't that a bit fast?"
"Trust me," Tony said, gently resting his head on her shoulder. "I'm Iron Man."
The heat of his breath, mixed with the faint scent of expensive scotch, made Pepper's thoughts scatter. She felt weightless as Tony picked her up, realizing for the first time that he was much stronger than he looked.
"At least... let's go to the bedroom," she whispered, her fear finally replaced by something else.
"How much longer until we close?"
Jessica Jones sat up from Luke Cage's shoulder, watching the sky turn to a bruised purple.
"We have to wait for the kid, Jill, to come over from his house. Then we can lock up the forge," Luke said with a small smile, handing Jessica a half-finished bottle of gin.
"Another boring day," Jessica sighed. "Maybe we should take Jill to Harrogath. At least it's not as lonely as this shop at night."
"I'm sure Bul-Kathos wouldn't mind if I stopped moonlighting as a security guard after hours," Luke joked, his gaze shifting toward Frank Castle's small house. Little Jill was peeking through the window, trying not to interrupt the couple even though he was clearly hungry.
"I'll go start dinner. There's nothing to eat on the Holy Mountain anyway except that endless supply of black bread," Luke said, standing up and waving Jill over. He had learned how to cook a decent, if simple, meal for his makeshift family.
Suddenly, Luke froze. He looked toward the distance, sensing a cluster of familiar, cold energies gathering.
"Ninjas. The Hand," he muttered.
"Your friends again?" Jessica stood up, frustrated. They both had enough enemies that a revenge plot wasn't surprising, but the timing was annoying. SHIELD agents were supposed to be crawling all over this neighborhood; how did a bunch of red-clad zealots get this close?
"Just a swarm of noisy flies. Don't worry about it," Luke said. After surviving the sieges of the Burning Hell's legions, a few ninjas didn't even qualify as a "threat."
"In that case, consider it my pre-dinner workout. I don't want these bastards making me late for my meal," Jessica said, draining the rest of the gin and pulling out her hand-axes.
"Jill, get inside with me," Luke said, not arguing over who got to fight. He led the boy into the forge. A few Hand ninjas weren't worth his concern.
While Luke and Jessica dealt with their "flies," Frank Castle had found someone far more interesting. The black ring on his finger was pulsing with a violent hunger.
"Danny Rand? Isn't he supposed to be missing?"
Frank watched a young man from a distance, currently embroiled in a brawl with a dozen ninjas. Frank was disappointed; by his standards, Danny Rand wasn't the kind of person you just shot in the head. This was the second "interesting soul" he'd encountered, and both times, he couldn't pull the trigger.
"But what's with the glowing fist?"
Frank rubbed the black ring. The aura of Death expanded, shrouding his body. He couldn't kill Danny, but the ninjas were fair game. He'd never understood why Hand ninjas turned to ash when they died; now that he had supernatural power, he wanted to test a theory.
Thwip—Boom!
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