[Third Person POV]
Wilson Fisk sat in silence, his large hands folded neatly on the desk in front of him. The faint hum of the city outside the window of his office did little to disturb the heavy tension that filled the room. James Wesley stood at his side, calm as always, but a closer look revealed unease in his eyes as he delivered the report.
"The plan with the Iron Serpents has failed," Wesley said in his steady voice. "Victor Ruiz never made it out of the meeting. Someone intervened and took him from the very place where I had gone to negotiate. Emilio Delgado has also been kidnapped. Without Ruiz and Delgado it is useless. And news just came in Javier Morales was also found dead after a gun fight broke out. The Serpents are finished."
Fisk's jaw tightened. The Iron Serpents had been meant to be an easy acquisition. They held valuable territory. He had planned to fold them into his empire without much trouble. Now the entire effort had collapsed before it even began.
"And Bullseye?" Fisk asked, his deep voice quiet but edged with restrained fury.
Wesley hesitated before speaking. "He failed. Whoever struck at Ruiz fought him directly… and won. Bullseye barely escaped with his life. To make matters worse, we lost one of our cleanup crews that escorted us in the process."
The silence that followed pressed down on the room like a weight. Fisk leaned back in his chair, the leather groaning beneath his massive frame. His gaze turned to the city skyline. The lights of Hell's Kitchen burned like scattered stars against the night.
"So there is nothing else but to bring the Russians in," Fisk said at last, his voice calm but heavy.
Wesley gave a small nod, his tone respectful. "Yes, sir. They will be more reliable in this stage of things. I will begin reaching out to them."
Fisk was quiet for a moment, his thick fingers drumming once against the arm of his chair. His eyes narrowed slightly. "That woman has been pressing for her product to be moved. Madame Gao is not known for her patience. This setback has thrown a wrench into the plan. But not all plans are perfect. I will personally meet with her and explain the situation."
Wesley inclined his head. "Understood."
Fisk's eyes stayed fixed on the lights beyond the glass. "This also gives us an opportunity. The chaos caused by that release of corruption details into the public has left many positions empty in the city. Judges, officers, many more have all been cast out or disgraced. That void can be filled. We can place our own people in power or bend others to serve our interests."
A small smile touched Wesley's lips as he replied, "A golden opportunity indeed, sir."
"You," Fisk said, his tone leaving no room for argument, "will start moving the things on the Russians' side. If the Serpents cannot serve their purpose, then others will. Nothing will stop the flow."
"Yes, sir," Wesley replied without hesitation.
Fisk leaned forward, his face hardening, his voice colder than before. "And place a bounty on the people who planned this intervention. I want names, and I want them hunted. Whoever thought they could move against me will be reminded of the price."
"It will be done," Wesley said firmly.
The city lights reflected in Fisk's eyes as he sat there in silence once more. He would not let this defeat stand. Whoever had dared to interfere in his city would learn soon enough the price of crossing Wilson Fisk.
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Across the city, the police were also piecing things together. The fluorescent lights hummed above the desks, files stacked in untidy piles as phones rang and boots clattered on the floor. Detective Rafael Scarfe leaned back in his chair, a cup of coffee in hand, his eyes half-lidded as he listened to his new partner, Detective Carter. Across from him, Misty Knight stood with her arms crossed, her sharp eyes scanning the room. Captain George Stacy entered, his face stern but calm, the kind of presence that steadied the room.
"Alright," Stacy began, moving closer to the board. "Three Serpent lieutenants gone within days. Javier Morales dead, Ruiz and Delgado missing. Whatever this was, it wasn't random. But given the fallout, this looks like a gang war spilling over."
Scarfe gave a short nod. "Serpents were already stretched thin. Somebody out there is clearing the board."
Misty crossed her arms. "That's one way to see it. But whoever did it moved clean, like they were running a professional job. This doesn't smell like rival crews just shooting at each other."
Stacy listened, his eyes on the photos. "Still, for now, we run it as a clash between gangs. The department needs a direction, and we can't chase ghosts."
As the meeting seemed to settle, Carter suddenly spoke up. "Sir… there's something else. My old partner from my last precinct—Alan Sloane. He went missing a month back. Nobody could find him. Then, out of nowhere, he reappears the same day that corruption scandal dropped citywide. When they asked him, he said he'd been on vacation in Hawaii."
Scarfe raised an eyebrow. "Vacation?" He leaned forward, skeptical. "What, he forgot to tell anyone for a month?"
Carter shook his head. "That's the thing. There's no travel record. No luggage. Nothing. Just gone, and then suddenly back. Like he never left."
Stacy's face tightened, his jaw shifting as if a piece of a puzzle had just slid into place. He knew Alan Sloane's name well. Too well. The scandal had already tied Sloane to several higher officials—people Stacy had suspected for years but couldn't touch. And now, Carter was pointing out the timeline that had been nagging at him since the story broke.
Scarfe grunted. "Captain… wasn't Sloane's name in those files that leaked? Something about him fixing cases?"
Stacy finally spoke, his voice low but firm. "Yes. Five cases, all tampered with. All connected to the Serpents. He was their inside man. And I knew he was dirty. But what Carter just said… the timing doesn't sit right."
Misty frowned, eyes narrowing. "You think whoever released that corruption list had him in their hands?"
Stacy exhaled slowly. "I don't know. But what I do know is this—Sloane coming back the same day the city caught fire wasn't luck. Someone wanted him back in play. Or maybe… they wanted us to see him for what he really is."
The room was quiet for a beat, the noise of the bullpen fading under the weight of the revelation. Stacy looked at his detectives, his tone sharp and decisive.
"We keep digging. We treat the Serpent mess as a gang war on the surface, but we don't ignore the shadows moving behind it. Someone's playing a bigger game in this city, and Alan Sloane is part of it. I want everything on his reappearance—phone records, bank accounts, every move he's made since the day he showed back up."
Scarfe smirked, nodding. "Now it's starting to sound like a real case."
Misty grabbed her notebook. "I'll start pulling Sloane's files."
Carter straightened, determined. "I'll get whatever I can from my old precinct."
Stacy gave a single nod, his expression grim. "Good. Let's get to work. Whoever is out there tearing pieces off this city thinks they're untouchable. Let's prove them wrong."
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Agent Kara Palamas sat on the edge of her bed in her small New York apartment, the blinds drawn to shut out the chaos that had swept the city last night. Reports of explosions, sudden gang violence, and unexplained disappearances had spread across every news channel. She had been on break, waiting for her transfer orders to another SHIELD unit, when her phone lit up. The caller ID showed Felix Blake.
She answered quickly. "Sir."
Felix's voice was sharp, his tone edged with frustration. "Kara, you saw what happened out there last night?"
"I saw the news. Looked like a coordinated strike. Iron Serpents lost their upper hands overnight," Kara replied calmly.
"Coordinated? Try surgical. Someone went in, picked their targets, and left without leaving a trace. Reminds you of anything?"
Kara frowned. "The warehouse job… the Chitauri tech." She remembered it clearly. They had been minutes away from securing alien weapons when someone hijacked the operation right under SHIELD's nose. A ghost, a figure who moved like he knew exactly what he was doing. He had jammed surveillance, toyed with their feeds, and vanished with the goods. It was one of SHIELD's worst embarrassments in the city.
Felix's voice hardened. "Exactly. That wasn't some lucky thug stumbling into alien hardware. That was deliberate. And last night, the Iron Serpents just happened to be the ones wiped off the map? Too clean. Whoever that bastard was, he's back in play."
Kara kept her tone even, though she knew Felix was right. "Maria already shut down your request to investigate. Orders are orders."
There was silence on the other end, then Felix's low growl. "Hill's cautious to a fault. But I know what I saw. This isn't gang war. Someone is hunting the Serpents. The same someone who stole from us. You don't forget moves like that."
"With respect, sir, without clearance, there's nothing we can do. We push this without authorization, we risk burning our own careers," Kara reminded him.
Felix let out a bitter laugh. "Careers. Right. Meanwhile, some ghost is out there dismantling crews and stockpiling alien weapons. And SHIELD's answer is to look the other way." His voice softened, but only slightly. "Mark my words, Kara. We cross paths with him again, it won't be by accident."
The call ended, the screen going dark in her hand. Kara sat still for a long moment, staring at the reflection of her own face. She knew Felix wasn't wrong. Whoever had stolen the Chitauri tech had specifically targeted the Iron Serpents that night, making them bleed before disappearing into the dark. Last night was the same pattern, only louder.
But Kara was a SHIELD agent. Orders came first. She pushed the thought to the back of her mind, though the unease lingered.
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David dragged the mop across the basement floor, scrubbing hard at the dark stains that refused to disappear. The smell of bleach mixed with the lingering iron scent of blood, clinging to the walls and his gloves. He moved methodically, bucket after bucket, until the floor looked clean enough to pass as untouched.
He dumped the last of the water down the drain and leaned on the mop, breathing out slowly. To him, this just felt like another night's work.
But outside the walls of his basement, New York was in chaos. Gangs clashed in the streets, power shifted in the shadows, and men in suits whispered about control. The police were stirring, S.H.I.E.L.D. was watching, and Wilson Fisk was preparing to strike.
David wiped the sweat from his brow, unaware of the storm that was already forming around him.
To know more about the fucked up shits he is gonna pull, stay tuned to A Man with a System…
To Be Continued...