Being back in New York made me feel a little more secure, as I was now out of the situation with Thor, but realistically, I was probably more in danger.
New York was a city full of cameras. I wasn't sure exactly how advanced S.H.I.E.L.D.'s information network was, but even my advantage of being legally nonexistent wouldn't help me avoid their grasp.
Thankfully, my natural eye colour was green, only turning red when I activated my Sharingan, so that detail could perhaps somewhat confuse them.
[Fear Point Balance: 6,813]
I had gained a few thousand FP again, but I wasn't exactly happy with the result.
The FP I had earned was due to the 'legend of a crimson-eyed man' spreading amongst S.H.I.E.L.D. agents.
Anyway, it seemed that passive FP generation like this was worth far less than active FP generation.
"Ah, Thor's probably fucked, isn't he?"
In the original movie, Coulson had let him go with Selvig quite easily for the purpose of following them, but the mission had probably quintupled in seriousness after my involvement.
It wouldn't surprise me if Hawkeye was torturing Thor for information right now.
"He'll be fine..."
I could only hope the movie went as it did in canon, as I was now unwilling to get myself involved.
Sitting back in my apartment, I rubbed my face with my hands.
"Ah, what the fuck should I even do?"
With S.H.I.E.L.D. on my back, I wouldn't be able to move freely.
Even with my new power-up, it was nowhere near enough for me to ignore those black-suit bastards.
Checking the shop, I looked to see if I could buy any advanced transformation or disguise ability.
"Fuck, do you increase the prices as soon as I need something?"
None of those abilities were remotely within reach.
I thought for several minutes regarding my next actions before looking at the card on my coffee table. It was the one I had received during a criminal operation raid from a while ago.
"This asshole, he practically owns New York, right?"
I had no delusions that Wilson Fisk, the Kingpin, could stand against S.H.I.E.L.D., but at the very least, he could probably offer me some kind of assistance, right?
And more importantly, I didn't feel that he was in any position to threaten me.
---
Wilson Fisk had met many dangerous men in his life.
He had sat across from cartel heads, arms dealers, assassins and politicians, all of whom believed themselves to be the most dangerous person in the room. Most of them were wrong. A select few were not.
Right now, he was sure the man he was meeting was one of the latter.
The man who walked into his penthouse at the arranged time wore a pale, smooth mask, seeming to have been perfectly sculpted for his face.
The only thing Fisk could make out behind the mask was the red eyes he had heard so much about.
"It's nice to finally meet you, though I'd prefer if you didn't wear a mask," Fisk spoke with a relaxed voice, not at all trying to press the man in front of him.
The man seemed to consider his words for a second before putting his hand to his face.
"Well, I guess I'm going to be asking quite a few things of you. So be it."
Rather than taking his mask off, as Fisk had expected. He pushed it into his face.
And to his shock, it seemed to dissolve. The material simply retracted into his skin at the jaw and forehead whilst making a faint organic sound which even Fisk thought was disgusting.
Beneath it was a young man's face. At first, it seemed rather red, but it quickly returned to a normal hue.
The face wasn't as he had expected. Fisk had imagined some kind of battle-hardened man full of scars; rather, this man's face lacked a single blemish.
'Some kid was the one behind all this?'
Of course, the man's surprising youthfulness did not make Fisk underestimate him in any way; if anything, that made Fisk think he was that much more capable, especially after seeing... whatever that thing with the mask was.
"Name's Varis." He introduced himself plainly. Fisk noted the single black mark seemingly spinning within his red eye.
"Wilson Fisk. It's... good to meet you, Varis."
Fisk gestured towards the chair across from him, and Varis sat without hesitation.
"You've cost me a significant amount of money." Fisk began.
"Have I?" He answered completely unconcerned.
Fisk allowed silence to fill the room as he poured two drinks from a vintage bottle of whiskey.
"How long have you been in New York?" Fisk asked, shifting away from the talk of damage.
Honestly speaking, the man had done barely anything to impact him. Nobody had been injured, nobody had been reported, and only loose cash had been stolen. The only issue was that his men were getting a little jittery at the thought of being raided by a red-eyed demon.
"Not long. About a month, I guess." He took the offered glass as Fisk sat down across from him.
"Ah, a newcomer. Then, how has New York been treating you thus far?"
"So-so, I guess. One thing I can say is that there are too many cameras."
"I can drink to that. Well, getting to business, I can vaguely guess why you've come to me at this time, Varis." Fisk began his pitch, taking a pause to drink from his glass before continuing. "I have men in several intelligence organisations, though, none in one so mighty as S.H.I.E.L.D."
At that, the young man's expression finally shifted into a wry smile.
"Looks like someone's done their homework."
"Indeed. Well, even though I don't have anyone in S.H.I.E.L.D., I have plenty of men in the FBI and high-ranking positions in various police departments, and you know something? Recently, S.H.I.E.L.D. has been trying to access damn near every camera from New Mexico to New York to track down a man with red eyes."
Varis was quiet for a moment, swirling the whiskey in his glass with the unbothered expression of a man being told something he already knew.
"I made an enemy," Varis said finally. "Someone important to them. It was unavoidable."
Fisk studied him. The red eyes hadn't changed, still carrying that same flat, unworried quality that Fisk found simultaneously reassuring and deeply unsettling.
"What is it that you need from me?" Fisk asked plainly, deciding that beating around the bush was of no use.
"A legal identity. Clean, thorough, nothing that unravels under scrutiny." A short pause. "And the camera footage, any trace of me existing in New York, I want it gone." He spoke his terms plainly.
Fisk was quiet for a moment, turning his glass slowly in his hand.
"That's a considerable ask," he said. "Making an identity that can stand up to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s scrutiny is a monumental task. It would require calling in favours from people I prefer to keep at a distance."
"I guessed as much."
"And the footage." Fisk exhaled slowly through his nose. "S.H.I.E.L.D. has already pulled a significant portion of it. What remains in the city's network I can reach, but whatever they already have..." He left the sentence where it was.
Varis nodded, as if he had already accounted for that.
"That's fine", he said. "I'm more concerned about what they can still find."
Fisk set his glass down.
"It can be done, albeit through great difficulty. But... as I'm sure you already understand, I won't be doing this for free."
"Yeah. Go on." Varis nodded his head, waiting to hear Fisk's terms.
Fisk smiled, beginning his pitch for the young man in front of him.
"Before that, I'd like to ask... are you a mutant?"