William's social smile froze.
No!
Dude!
I just came to drink and look at beautiful women!
How did it turn into a pledge of allegiance?
Sarkissian misled me!
The three words 'pledge of allegiance' crashed into his mind, not causing a ripple, but simply crushing all his contingency plans.
Dinner.
Caviar.
Client relationship maintenance.
These words from the civilized World seemed absurd and ridiculous at this moment.
He couldn't refuse.
This thought didn't even require consideration; it was a survival instinct ingrained in his very spine.
The consequences of refusal clearly formed in his mind—not a bloody scene, but a cold, transactional outcome.
A certain foundation in New York City would be a bit more solid.
That's all.
At this moment, William so desperately wished that Tony Stark would make a grand entrance from the main door.
"Yo, isn't that Mr. Fisk, the great benefactor, a candidate for New York City mayor? Why wasn't I invited to the charity gala?"
Apparently, Tony didn't hear William's internal turmoil; he was probably still immersed in his iron suit.
Kingpin's gaze remained unchanged.
That calmness itself was a weapon; it pierced through William's carefully constructed professional facade, stirring in the depths of his mind, probing every pulse of fear.
He enjoyed this process.
He enjoyed observing the subtle, interesting nervous tremors of his prey before it was completely devoured.
"This sounds like..."
William's Adam's apple bobbed with difficulty, the expensive silk tie constricting his throat.
He forced his vocal cords to produce sound, every word precisely calculated, stripped of all emotion.
"...a high-risk, high-value project."
Damn it, this was cannon fodder.
William Rodriguez brand.
A disposable item.
"Risk and value are always directly proportional, aren't they?"
Kingpin's voice held a hint of condescending approval, like a mentor commending a student who had finally caught on.
"Don't you dare listen to his bullshit!"
Jessica's hushed voice pierced his ears.
"He wants to use you as a target!"
The five fingers clamping his arm suddenly tightened, and William distinctly heard the faint groan of his bones being compressed beneath his suit fabric.
That force was both a warning and a primal, unthinking protection.
Kingpin's gaze didn't even bother to shift an inch towards Jessica.
He still only looked at William.
"Your security consultant is very... energetic."
He commented unhurriedly.
"But the complexity of this agreement clearly exceeds her professional scope."
One sentence, an invisible knife, precisely cut Jessica out of this confrontation.
It categorized her as an unqualified, simple-minded tool of violence.
The entire World was once again just him and William.
Hunter and prey.
William's lungs filled with expensive air, a mixture of top-tier perfume, Cuban cigars, and thick fear.
He had no retreat.
Phase Shift might allow him to escape this mansion, but not Kingpin's empire.
New York was too small.
He also couldn't always stay under Tony's protection; in the long run, this would only make Tony look down on him.
He chose the latter.
The risk exposure of fleeing was one hundred percent.
Taking on this commission, there might only be a sliver of hope for survival, but the reward... the reward was unknown.
The merchant's scales instantly weighed in his heart.
"You're right, Mr. Fisk."
William pulled his hand free from Jessica's grasp.
A slight movement, yet profoundly significant.
He took half a step forward, completely stepping out of Jessica's protective range, exposing himself entirely to Kingpin's pressure.
This was a posture, a show of "sincerity."
"The signing of any insurance policy requires a detailed risk assessment and clear terms."
He met Kingpin's eyes, which seemed to swallow light.
The professional smile on his face became perfect again, without a single crack.
"A verbal agreement, for an 'artwork' of such high value, is irresponsible to both parties."
He bent down.
The "paradox briefcase" he had been carrying was placed on a nearby empty marble side table.
Click.
A steady, soft sound.
He opened the briefcase's latches.
The gazes of the surrounding guests, whether curious, playful, or gloating, all focused here.
William ignored them.
He reached into the seemingly empty briefcase, his fingertips probing into nothingness.
His thoughts rapidly flowed in an unknown dimensional space, constructing the terms.
[Insurance Policy Template: Class A High-Value Item Domestic Transport Special Risk Protection]
[Insured: Wilson Fisk]
[Subject of Insurance: "Artwork" of unknown identity]
[Scope of Insurance Liability: Theft, robbery, Fire, explosion during transportation... and damage or loss caused by third-party supernatural abilities.]
A beautifully bound document, exuding the fresh scent of high-quality paper and ink, appeared in his hand just like that.
On the cover, elegant gold-embossed lettering reflected a cold light under the crystal chandelier.
"Fisk Collection Special Security and Risk Hedging Agreement."
He held the document with both hands, offering it to Kingpin.
This gesture was both an act of submission and a final, desperate display of skill.
"This is our sincerity, Mr. Fisk. A tailor-made guarantee for you."
His voice was calm, confident, sounding truly like an ace broker for a multinational insurance group managing billions.
And not a poor soul dancing on the edge of a cliff.
Kingpin did not take it.
His gaze fell on the document, and in the unfathomable depths of his eyes, a flicker of genuine, undisguised surprise finally appeared.
The attendant behind him also froze; he had seen clearly that the briefcase was empty.
"An interesting trick."
Kingpin spoke, his voice devoid of emotion.
He didn't reach out; his attendant immediately stepped forward, respectfully took the document, and presented it to him.
Kingpin's gaze swept over the document.
When he saw one of the clauses, the curve of his lips finally widened a bit.
"'Damage caused by third-party supernatural abilities'..."
He whispered the line, his voice carrying the playful taunt of a cat that has caught a mouse and is in no hurry to bite, preferring to savor the moment.
He looked up, meeting William's gaze again.
"It seems, Mr. Rodriguez, you are well aware of the true risks of this job. I am even more curious about your company."
He pointed his cane, inlaid with a massive diamond, towards the window.
The black heavy trucks, their engines off, stood like a row of steel gravestones in the night.
"That's right, I did receive intelligence that some overconfident fool wants to steal my things from my home."
Kingpin's voice suddenly turned cold, and the temperature in the ballroom seemed to drop with it.
"She calls herself..."
"Hellcat."
A lazy, charming voice interjected at just the right moment.
Madame Hydra had gracefully walked over to them at some point.
The Persian cat in her arms yawned, its emerald eyes filled with the same arrogance as its Master.
"A very active young woman on the streets."
Ophelia's tone was dismissive, as if discussing a fly that had accidentally flown into the room.
"Relying on stolen equipment and a bit of brute force, she causes trouble everywhere."
She paused, her green eyes glancing at William, with a hint of a smile that anticipated a good show.
"She seems to believe that taking things from you is a form of 'justice.'"
Hellcat, Patsy Walker.
Reinforced battle suit.
Tandy's report to him contained information about this woman.
Kingpin's "pledge of allegiance" wasn't asking him to deal with street thugs.
This was asking him to go head-to-head with a real superhero.
Kingpin's massive body leaned back slightly; this subtle movement gave him an air of complete, in-control relaxation.
In the bottomless darkness of his eyes, a glimmer of almost pleasant light appeared.
He saw what he wanted to see.
"Now, Mr. Rodriguez."
His voice softened, as if posing an inconsequential business inquiry.
"Is your insurance still valid?"
-------------------------------
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