Chapter 28: 28 - Kingpin

Chapter 28: 28 - Kingpin

A gentleman in a suit and leather shoes pushed open the door to a dimly lit room. He ignored the heavily armed Russians inside and walked in slowly. At the far end of the room stood a short-haired Russian man, staring at a charred corpse on the table with a dazed expression.

The gentleman glanced at the corpse and spoke calmly. "Vladimir, please accept my employer's condolences for your loss. He deeply regrets the departure of your brother. However, there are some matters we still need to discuss."

After a few seconds, Vladimir turned to face the gentleman.

"If Kingpin wants to talk, he should come here himself instead of sending an assistant," he said.

"Unfortunately, my employer cannot come in person at the moment due to some issues. However, he has given me full authority to handle this matter on his behalf. You can trust me to act in his best interests," the gentleman replied, maintaining his composure.

Vladimir stepped forward, his eyes glinting with a cold light. He approached the gentleman with a menacing aura, resembling a brown bear full of gnawing anger. "I said, Fisk, should come here himself and not send one of his dogs to talk with me!" he snarled.

The man narrowed his eyes but kept his tone calm. "Please refrain from using that name here," he said.

Vladimir sneered. "Oh, you mean Kingpin or Wilson Fisk? What should I not call him? Aren't they both the same?" he taunted.

Vladimir's eyes turned colder, and he glared at the man with cruelty dripping from his face. As the leader of the Russian Ross gang, he feared no one, not even Kingpin, who had gained widespread notoriety.

He jabbed his fingers hard into the man's chest, using his immense strength to push him back several steps. "Your name is Wesley, right? You tell Fisk that if he wants to talk, he should come to me himself. Tell him not to use this perfunctory attitude!" he growled.

Despite being treated this way by Vladimir, Wesley remained calm and nonchalantly straightened his collar.

Wesley's expression remained calm as he spoke. "Since you're not interested in discussing business affairs, let's talk about personal matters," he said.

"Regarding the two attackers who blew up the warehouse, my employer has dispatched investigators to identify one of the assailants. I believe we will be able to follow the leads and track down the other attacker very soon."

Vladimir took a sudden step forward and glared at Wesley in disbelief. "What did you say?"

"Tell me, who is that damned attacker!" he demanded.

"Fisk's greed is too big. He wants to take away half of my territory? Go and tell Fisk, this is impossible! Don't try to threaten me with information about those two attackers, I don't need his help to find those two damned shits!!"

Wesley took out a white handkerchief and wiped the spit from Vladimir's face.

"I hope you will seriously consider it. My employer is waiting for your reply." Wesley said as he turned around.

-A while later-

After a knock on a large wooden door, Wesley walked into an office.

He looked at the huge man sitting behind the desk and reported respectfully, "Vladimir did not agree, but his hatred for the two attackers is very deep."

Under the bright light, there was a fat man nearly two meters tall, wearing a custom-made high-end suit. His build was huge but not round.

With that friendly expression he wore on his face, people who don't know him would think that he is a kind and ordinary businessman.

And the same was true on the surface, he was the famous philanthropist, Wilson Fisk.

He once donated a large sum of money for the construction of New York and declared that he hoped to give New York the peace it never had.

Ironically, however, the philanthropist had a little secret identity.

He was also known as Kingpin, the master of Hell's Kitchen.

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E/N: We're 130 power stones behind 1k and 1k means an extra chap so... anyways, Happy reading, have a good day/night. Updated from novelb(i)n.c(o)m