Isaac's mind went blank, unable to conjure a single secret worth sharing.
Yet the lingering pain from the electrical current convinced him he couldn't survive another shock. Desperation drove him to gamble everything on a dangerous revelation: "We've been working directly with Kingpin's organization!"
Jenkins's eyes widened in horror. Jesus Christ, is he out of his mind? That's not something you ever admit!
He shouted frantically, "Isaac, you idiot! Some things should never be spoken aloud—ever! Shut your damn mouth!"
A faint flush crept across Isaac's dark features, but he stood his ground. "To hell with that! If we don't cooperate, we're both going to die right here!"
"I have a wife who's pregnant with my child. Do you want them both to die?"
Jenkins's face drained of color. He opened his mouth to respond, but Jason's voice cut through the tension.
"Enough shouting, Officer Jenkins. It's your turn to share now."
Jenkins stopped yelling but fixed Isaac with a venomous glare. "Fine. I told you it costs fifty grand to get promoted to sheriff, but it's actually only thirty. I pocketed the extra twenty thousand."
Isaac's eyes widened dramatically. "You serious? We've been partners for five years, and you've been skimming money off me? You racist piece of garbage! Did you think I wouldn't figure it out?"
His tirade of profanity continued until Jason interrupted. "Alright, Officer Isaac. Your turn again."
Isaac took several deep breaths to compose himself before continuing. "Beyond just us, nearly everyone in the 21st Precinct is on the take with various gangs!"
Jenkins stared hopelessly at the ceiling. It's over. We're finished. The gangs will never let us live, and neither will the department.
I never should have partnered with him in the first place. His intelligence level is subterranean!
"Fascinating," Jason's amused voice emerged from the shadows. "Your turn again, Officer Jenkins."
Rage boiled in Jenkins's chest, but survival instinct prevailed. If I'm going to die, I at least don't want to drag my family down with me.
After all the crimes we've committed, surely I can think of some that don't involve the mafia?
He attempted to steer the conversation away from gang connections: "The chief of the 18th Precinct, Charlie, once took a substantial bribe to help a rapist walk free!"
His strategy was clear—focus on internal police corruption. The department might be corrupt, but at least they generally didn't go after officers' families. Plus, there were enough dirty cops that they could discuss them for hours.
Without prompting, Isaac eagerly continued the new direction: "Yeah, I've heard about that too. I also heard he's got a mistress who's connected to a major crime boss. It was through his protection that their operation grew so powerful."
Jenkins's heart sank completely.
If I ever get another life, I swear I'll never partner with someone this stupid again!
His frustration boiled over. You want to play the honesty game? Fine, let's see how you handle this.
"Isaac," Jenkins began with sudden enthusiasm, "remember when we first became partners and I took you out drinking? I introduced you to a 'friend' of mine. Well, he wasn't actually my friend—just some gay guy I met at the bar. You got blackout drunk that night and woke up the next morning feeling... uncomfortable..."
Isaac froze, his expression transforming into disbelief. He suddenly lunged against his restraints toward Jenkins. "I knew it! I fucking knew something happened that night! I'll kill you!"
The two officers erupted into a vicious verbal battle, hurling every obscenity imaginable at each other.
Their rage-fueled exchange continued until Jason's methodical countdown intruded on their consciousness: "Five, four, three..."
Isaac, recognizing it was his turn again, decided his revenge would be absolute.
He moistened his lips and delivered his bombshell: "Jenkins, I've been fucking your wife."
An abrupt silence descended over the room.
The white officer narrowed his eyes in disbelief. He forced a dismissive laugh. "Your revenge attempt is pathetically obvious. Better think of something else before we get shocked again—"
"It's your turn, Officer Jenkins."
Jason's calm voice emerged from the darkness.
Jenkins's laughter faltered. "He's lying! Didn't you investigate us? This is clearly a lie!"
The container fell into unprecedented silence.
A cruel smile spread across Isaac's face, his white teeth gleaming in the dim light, seemingly mocking his partner's naivety.
Jason's voice remained impassive: "I did investigate. And now, it's still your turn, Officer Jenkins."
Jenkins looked at the shadowy figure in disbelief before turning to Isaac, utterly bewildered.
Isaac's rich voice filled the silence. "Jenkins, I'm not lying. In fact, we've become quite intimate. I know her preference for black lace lingerie, and she definitely enjoys... certain positions more than others."
"You son of a bitch!"
Jenkins tried lunged at Isaac with murderous rage, while the Black officer laughed triumphantly.
Jason's elaborate revenge had reached its devastating climax...
Meanwhile, at the exclusive French restaurant, Wilson Fisk seemed poised to reveal something significant after their pleasant conversation.
He absently touched the cufflinks at his wrists—a habitual gesture.
Vanessa's keen eyes noticed. "Those are special to you, aren't they?"
"Yes," Fisk nodded. "They belonged to my father—his legacy. I honor him by wearing them. Whenever I think of him, I'm reminded of my childhood, which connects to my dreams, which inevitably leads to thoughts of this city."
Vanessa tilted her head slightly. "How are they connected?"
"I witnessed the true depravity of human nature as a child, and even more profoundly as I grew older. When young, I believed the world was simple, that this city was simple—but it's not. Despite everything, I love this city deeply. Transforming it has become my life's purpose."
After a moment's pause, his gaze shifted to Vanessa's handbag. "You brought a firearm with you tonight?"
Vanessa hesitated before answering quietly, "It's dangerous here."
Fisk sighed deeply. "That's precisely what I wanted to discuss with you. It is dangerous here."
His eyes drifted toward the cityscape visible through the windows. "Criminal organizations operate unchecked, disparate elements clash without consequence, and chaos reigns supreme. This city lacks the order it desperately needs—a strong order."
Vanessa hesitated before broaching the subject. "That day, when Hell's Butcher mentioned you were—"
Fisk's lips tightened momentarily. "I've lied to many people throughout my life, but I find I don't want to lie to you."
"I suspect your assumptions are correct."
He drew a deep breath before continuing. "I have indeed harmed people in the past, and I will likely harm more in the future. But I take no pleasure in it—quite the opposite. It causes me profound pain."
His gaze locked with Vanessa's, intensity radiating from his eyes. "Everything I do is for this city. Look at the ineffectual police force—they don't protect citizens; they obstruct true progress. I intend to break these systemic shackles and offer new life to this place."
"I will establish new rules that apply equally to everyone. This city was once magnificent, but decades of neglect have left it in ruins. I alone possess the vision and resources to resurrect it."
Vanessa appeared momentarily stunned, staring at Kingpin in silent contemplation.
He gently took her hand, his expression softening. "With me, you'll never need that gun again."
After a lengthy pause, Vanessa slowly reached for her handbag, withdrew an elegant silver pistol, and offered it to him.
A smile of profound satisfaction spread across Fisk's face.
"You've made your choice, then. Are you prepared to enter my world?"
Vanessa returned his smile, a hint of shyness tempering her confidence. "Yes, I believe I am."
Fisk clapped his hands once, the sound sharp and authoritative.
Instantly, the restaurant filled with the synchronized sounds of chairs being pushed back as every other patron rose simultaneously.
In perfect unison and complete silence, they filed out of the dining room.
Vanessa realized with astonishment that there had never been any actual guests—only staff members posing as diners to create the illusion of a crowded restaurant.
Fisk took her hand and led her toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. "I've arranged a fireworks display especially for you. I'm certain you'll find it to your liking."