Looking at Fisk's near-collapse, Makima seemed to have achieved her goal.
She didn't actually let Wesley fire. Instead, she smiled and walked to the window, extending her fair hand to Kingpin, who was hanging on the edge of life and death.
Fisk was stunned.
He didn't understand what this woman wanted to do.
Was she going to push him down? Or pull him up?
In the next second, Makima grabbed his wrist and, like picking up a little chick, easily pulled the several-hundred-pound Fisk back into the office.
She tossed him aside casually.
Thud.
Fisk fell heavily onto the carpet, gasping for air, cold sweat and blood mixing together.
Before he and Wesley could celebrate surviving the ordeal, Makima's gentle voice rang out above them:
"Mr. Fisk, you've lost this game."
Hum.
Power of Control, activate.
The chains from Makima's abdomen precisely pierced through Fisk's abdomen.
Because he had been defeated, crushed, and granted his life as charity, Fisk was now completely at a psychological disadvantage.
That brand of the 'loser' became the gap through which Makima invaded his mental defenses.
Fisk's eyes remained conscious, but that consciousness was filled with unspeakable terror.
Because he discovered that his knees were bending uncontrollably, and his head was bowing against his will.
An irresistible sense of obedience arrogantly flooded his reason.
"This is an order."
Makima stood before him, her voice as gentle as if she were teaching a child: "Please say, 'I am willing to enter into a contract with Miss Makima.'"
Fisk trembled all over. He wanted to grit his teeth, to roar, to refuse, but his mouth seemed to have become someone else's organ, opening on its own. His voice was hoarse and trembling: "I... am willing to enter into a contract with... Miss Makima..."
Beside them, Wesley's eyes widened. The gun in his hand dropped to the floor as he watched this scene in utter despair.
He watched his once-unbeatable boss being manipulated like a marionette.
Makima nodded with satisfaction and continued to guide him: "Very good, then please continue."
Fisk simply couldn't control himself.
Under the gaze of those golden ringed eyes, he spoke the oath that would change the fate of the entire underworld word by word, through gritted teeth:
"Any harm, illness, or death... that you suffer..."
"Will be randomly transferred to my subordinates... and transformed into accidents or terminal illnesses for them..."
"Until... the very last person."
The moment he heard these words, Wesley gasped, a bone-chilling cold rushing straight to his skull.
What kind of evil ability was this?
This... what kind of malicious curse was this?!
Was this the woman's goal?! She didn't want money, and she didn't want territory.
She had turned all tens of thousands of members of the Fisk Group into her scapegoats!
...Queens, inside the apartment.
"Phew... all set." Sumire clapped her hands with satisfaction as she watched the contract being finalized on the screen.
Yes, this was the first step of the plan she and Makima had come up with.
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