Obligatory Disclaimer : I do not own anything (except maybe OC characters) all characters, places, worlds, universes…etc mentioned here belong to their respective owners and/or companies.
This is purely a work of fiction. Not meant to offend or incite, but to entertain and maybe inspire.
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THINGS FALL APART III
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"Welcome" the large, bald man says, his voice calm and dignified, but with an undertone of anger and annoyance.
He began folding the arms of his long-sleeved shirt up and unbuttoning the top. "Young people these days have no respect, I don't blame you, I blame my generation for failing to teach you the way. Since you went through all this trouble to gain my attention, you have it now"
his fingers are as thick as sausage rolls. His veiny arms the size of adult thighs. His gaze sharpens as he stares at me.
"I don't care who you work for, I'm going to deliver them your mangled corpse, and after I find your family, I will utterly destroy them" he pulls out a syringe from his drawer beneath the desk and stabbed it into his arm. His gaze turns vicious, his shirt ripping over his enlarging body. I watch as his muscles grow to ridiculous sizes making him look even more intimidating. I know he's afraid, he wouldn't have resulted to doping if he wasn't.
"I know you're afraid. I can smell your fear from here, Fisk. But don't worry, I'll only break your back"
The atmosphere turns tense as he seeths at me. He roars and easily hurls the mahogany wooden desk at me.
I swerve beneath it and pull out two thin handheld blades. The kingpin charges at me, web fluids to the face take away his sight. I dodge beneath his tackle and swipe the blades at his ankle tendons. The increased muscle mass stops them from doing the required damage.
BRZZzzzn My arms come up for a block against his backhand. It was like taking a bat swing to the head. The force sent me crashing into the walls. I can smell colors. Blood pools in my mouth, I swallow it down. My mind is rattled. My vision is shaky. I rouse myself up. And rapidly launch my body to the side, evading a meaty arm that punches through the wall.
I stare at him. He stares back with a injured face, pieces of skin hanging on torn strands of webbing still stuck to his face.
We charge at each other again. I evade his uncharacteristically fast strikes, and deliver one of my own to his solar plexus. He is sent sailing, I tag his airborne body with web lines and tug hard. Sending him crashing hard into office furniture. I lunged at him for a added momentum uppercut strike. Sending his body flying upwards. I tagged him again with web lines and dragged him down into the office floor, caving it.
He pulled the lines, drawing me forward. I utilized the boost to deliver a punch.
His thick fingers latch onto my fist, I felt them trying to crush my hand. I lashed out with kick to his face, a wet crunch sounding out. He spat out a bloody tooth and then glares hatefully at me. I am disoriented for a moment, and then comes the pain. The air is forcefully driven out my lungs as I receive a barrage of attacks and slams. He trashes me repeatedly on the floor, I feel a hard slam on my helmet, it cracks from the impact, I am shocked, literally.
He raises me up to eye level, a wicked grin on his bloody face, one on mine as well.
I push my bioelectricity, yellow arcs flash on my body and then on his. A silent explosion ensues, he is hurled back spasming and convulsing with electric tendrils still dancing on his body.
I hefted him overhead and wrapped my arms over his midsection. I stuck to the surface of the wall with my feet and slowly ascended. I feel his elbows slam against my head, each strike shaking my brain and threatening to turn off my consciousness. My grip tightened to a bear grip, I feel his muscles strain against mine. I am stronger. At a perfect height I position his body at an angle meant to do the most damage and leapt off the walls. Time slows for me, I imagine how much this is going to hurt me, but it's going to hurt him even more.
I land a lethal German suplex, than strains my back and pulls my shoulder. The curve of his body crashing against the floor and then through it absorbing most of the shock, causing us to fall to the lower levels. Over and over again, I still maintained the picture perfect pose.
Crack! His back no longer protesting to the awkward angle it is pointed at. He cries out in agony, well he would considering his back is now broken. I crawl up from beside him with a dislocated shoulder and elbow, a sprained ankle, a busted lip, a bleeding cut on the back of my head and a swollen eye. My hud is cracked as is my helmet. I webbed up the broken parts of the helmet shut together. I retrieved a small nasal canister from my belt and put it to my nose. I took in a deep inhale, the white power numbing my pain and pushing back my fatigue. I retrieve another canister and jam it into my abdomen, emptying it's contents into my bloodstream—Adrenaline and painkillers, my vision vividly clears and I feel more energetic and definitely high from the terrible concoction of powdered cocaine and adrenaline. Which would otherwise kill or seriously harm a baseline, leaving them most likely brain dead.
And still I painfully push my shoulder and elbow back into place, my enhanced physiology already working at inhuman levels to put my body back together.
I stashed the canisters back into my belt and approached the fallen, groaning man. Wilson Fisk crime lord of New York, now lay broken before me. I crouched over him and stared directly into his eyes. I grabbed him by the neck and let my other hand do the work. Punching viciously into his face, disfiguring it. I then pulled him up to my face. His eyes now having visible fear.
"You will remember me. In your deepest, most silent moments you will think back to me and you will shudder. I am your worst nightmare, I am the spider that crawls in your dreams. I am your fear personified."
I was surrounded by thugs both backup and the already beaten ones, I raised the broken body of Fisk above me.
"Fisk is no more. This is my yard now, my turf. And you all work for me. You will be paid, you will be able to put sufficient food on your tables. You eat what I eat. I am not greedy, or selfish. You work for me right, and you will be rewarded as you rightly deserve. But if you think you can go against my orders, or fuck around on my turf, then let this man-the great kingpin- serve as an example for you."
"If you don't want the job leave now, no strings attached. Follow me if you do" I dragged the body of Fisk behind me, the thugs parting and giving me way.
A canchophy of steps following behind me. Stating their intentions clearly. This was a good start.
Speechless? I know. This turned out way better than I imagined it to. Whoo! Another chapter down. How was it?
Leave a review, really leave a review. The more I see the more I'm motivated by.
This is a chapter to bring the arc to a nice close.
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