Chapter 17: Enhanced Negotiations
Wilson Fisk was convinced he was dealing with a complete lunatic.
The crime lord who had murdered his way to the top of New York's underworld felt an unfamiliar surge of helplessness.
He waved dismissively at Rory. "Get out of here. I don't want to waste time killing an idiot."
Rory scratched his head thoughtfully. "You're calling a scientist an idiot? That's rich. My brain, if we weighed them both, would be at least two pounds heavier than yours."
Wilson Fisk shook his head in disbelief. "No sane person talks about weighing their own brain."
"Screw you, you muscle-bound moron!"
Instead of getting angry at the insult, Fisk reached out to grab Rory and physically throw him out of the penthouse.
The moment his hand made contact, Wilson Fisk's expression transformed completely.
From annoyance to shock, from shock to absolute bewilderment.
With a heavy thud, his massive frame dropped to one knee in front of Rory.
"What the hell—"
Fisk tried to grab Rory with his other hand, but Rory caught his wrist effortlessly.
Wilson Fisk was a powerhouse—his muscle density was off the charts, his physical conditioning pushed human limits to their absolute maximum. He was essentially a human wrecking ball in an expensive suit.
Yet he was completely helpless against this ordinary-looking young man.
Rory reached out with his free hand, grabbed Fisk by the collar, and lifted the three-hundred-pound crime boss completely off the ground with one arm.
"Listen carefully," Rory said calmly. "I'm a biological scientist. Do you know what biology studies? Living organisms—and humans are just another type of organism. That's my specialty. To me, you're no different from a newborn chick, so I'd recommend not trying to intimidate me again. Understood?"
Fisk nodded frantically.
Rory patted the crime lord's bald head with satisfaction, then couldn't resist rubbing it. "Damn, that's smooth as a bowling ball."
He set Fisk back on his feet. "Good. Now let's get back to business."
Fisk rubbed his nearly crushed wrist and straightened his expensive shirt. "So you're offering to be my bodyguard?"
"Are you dreaming?" Rory laughed. "I'll be spending most of my time in a laboratory conducting experiments. I don't have time to follow you around like some hired muscle. What I'm offering is this: if you encounter a threat you can't handle on your own, you contact me and I'll deal with it."
Before Fisk could respond, Rory added, "But not just any trouble. I won't get involved in turf wars or help you fight the government. Keep a low profile. If your activities risk exposing my work, I might eliminate you myself."
Fisk processed this information. Rory wouldn't help him eliminate business competitors or protect him from federal investigators. The only thing on offer was intervention in life-threatening situations.
To most people, this would seem like paying a fortune for almost nothing.
But to Wilson Fisk, Rory represented the ultimate insurance policy.
What interested Fisk more than the terms, however, was Rory himself.
After a moment of consideration, he asked, "I can fund your laboratory and cover all ongoing expenses. But what I really want to know is... can I become like you?"
"As powerful as me?" Rory considered the question. "Not yet. Give me time to establish the lab and conduct proper research. Then maybe."
"Deal!" Fisk agreed without hesitation.
Rory smiled and extended his hand. "Pleasure doing business with you."
Fisk stared at the offered handshake nervously before carefully extending his own hand.
After they shook, Rory continued, "Use your name or a shell company to secure a suitable location. I'll prepare a detailed equipment list—make sure you get exactly what's specified."
"How do I contact you in the meantime?"
Rory glanced around the luxurious penthouse. Since he had nowhere else to go, he shrugged. "This place is nice. I'll stay here until we're operational. Get me some clothes, toiletries, and a new phone—registered under someone else's identity."
With that, Rory wandered off to claim one of the guest bedrooms.
Fisk remained in the living room, his jaw twitching with suppressed irritation. He pulled out his phone and called Wesley, his most trusted associate, to arrange for Rory's supplies.
Less than thirty minutes later, Wesley had acquired everything on the list.
"Mr. Fisk, is everything alright?" Wesley asked, noticing his boss's unusual behavior as he handed over the bags.
Fisk didn't allow Wesley inside, instead taking the items at the door.
"I'm fine," Fisk replied after a pause. "Go get some rest. I have important work for you tomorrow."
"Of course, sir. Good night."
Wesley maintained his professional composure. As Fisk's right-hand man, he knew when not to ask questions.
After closing the door, Fisk brought the supplies to the living room just as Rory emerged from the guest bedroom with a handwritten list.
"Purchase everything exactly as specified," Rory said, handing over several pages of detailed equipment requirements. "The models and specifications are precise—don't substitute anything."
Rory picked up the new phone from the sofa, powered it on, and spent a few minutes configuring it. Then he gathered his new clothes and toiletries.
When he returned to the living room, he was wearing a silk bathrobe that probably cost more than most people's rent.
He walked to Fisk's wine cabinet, selected a bottle of aged scotch, and poured himself a generous glass.
After downing half of it in one gulp, he asked, "So, Kingpin, where are you thinking of setting up my laboratory?"
Fisk considered the question. "This is my first investment in high-tech research. How about somewhere near Wall Street? Good for business image."
Rory rolled his eyes dramatically. "I strongly suggest you call the police immediately. I think someone stole your brain."
Fisk bristled but held his tongue. He had actually been considering using the laboratory investment as a public relations opportunity—legitimate business to improve his media image.
However, he'd completely missed Rory's need for secrecy.
After pouring himself another drink, Rory continued, "I seriously question how you became a crime boss. Did you just punch your way to the top?"
Fisk was both furious and humiliated, but thinking of Rory's overwhelming strength—and the possibility of gaining similar power—he forced himself to remain calm.
"Enhanced individuals like super-soldiers are military experiments," Rory explained. "Captain America was created during World War II—surely you know the history. I need a completely secret laboratory. I don't want a team of federal agents kicking down my door and confiscating years of research."
Speaking of government interference, Rory's first thought was of Steve Rogers.
At least he'd finally escaped that particular problem.
End of Chapter 17
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