Family First

July 13, 2015:

After sending his wife away, Wilson Fisk calls upon a cyborg looking to protect her family name to discuss countermeasures against the cartel that threatened his wife.

Fisk Towers, New York City

One part palatial office, one part command bunker.


NPCs: None.



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…


"You will see, beloved," Wilson Fisk says as he stares out over the island of Manhattan. His voice just manages to rise above loud banging noises from his bedroom. "It is for the best; Tohoku is lovely this time of year, and we have friends there. It has been years since we last went— and once I've finished settling some business here, I will join you." He then takes a slow sip of bourbon and holds it, savoring the burn as he awaits what he already knows is coming.

"'We' have friends," Vanessa Fisk scoffs from the bedroom. "'Our' friends with dead eyes and red pajamas— I remember just last week, laughing with them over tea about a particularly funny murder one of them had committed!" Most of the massive bed she shares with her husband is taken up by suitcases which she is all but hurling clothes and various other essentials into.

She's calmed somewhat since the first time they had this conversation.

"Spare me, Wilson; this is not our first time doing this dance, is it? Me, spirited away to the safety of some exotic locale where I can wonder whether I'll ever hear from you again— and whether I'll even want to, once you've finished doing whatever it is you're planning." Vanessa lets out a slow, weary sigh. "The plane is leaving in a matter of hours, so spare me; I have quite a lot of preparing to do, and you could stand to do some thinking about what happens after Tohoku. I may just stay; we do have such wonderful friends there, after all."


For the first time since the abandoned library, the Kingpin reached out to Lady Deathstrike after seeing one of his private planes off. He arranged - via proxy - for a meeting after midnight, in the bunker/office where they first came to their current arrangement; there were no details beyond time, location, and the general importance of the meeting..

When the time comes, Fisk can be found sitting heavily in the leather throne set up behind his mostly empty desk. There is a bottle of expensive scotch with two glasses - one filled - set out. Cigar smoke curls around the office, but the scent won't waft outside until Deathstrike opens the door.


Lady Deathstrike doesn't much like being summoned. Even if that wasn't the actual tone, it's what it feels like. Still, Fisk has resources in North America that she lacks - resources she needs to track down anyone who has ever laid a finger on her father's technology. She will play, for now.

She's prompt. Even if she didn't want to be, something about her cybernetic components compels her to be on time. Rather than her armor, she's dressed quite ordinarily, in a blue pantsuit with a white silk top beneath it. It doesn't quite hide the circuit board veins of her cybernetic systems across her collarbone, though a less canny eye might mistake them for tattoos.

Despite the fact that she's more than capable of defending herself, she's brought a small entourage. They will, however, hang back as she goes to meet the man himself. She tugs open the door. If she's bothered by the smoke, she shows no indication. "You wanted to see me."

Fisk doesn't speak until the door is closed; his eyes are on her entourage the entire time.

"Indeed," he eventually states in a low, worn voice. His empty hand stretches towards the glass, the chair. "My thanks for meeting me on such short notice. Come, sit; there is business to be discussed. It regards the same cartel that necessitated our last meeting." He takes long drag from the cigar - it's about half gone, by now - then sets it aside, leans forward, and steeples his fingers over the desk.

"After assaulting my territory, they had the temerity to interfere with my personal life— all to force me into handing them more," he continues, tone and features taking on a murderous edge. "It was a misstep on their part— albeit a bold one. The man whose name you brought me - Aurelio Martinez - he oversees an empire that rivals, perhaps even dwarfs even my own; to attack him directly would mean bloody, costly war. Thus, I intend to devise a subtler solution— but for that, I will need help. Others are being found as we speak, but you… I would have you watch over them for me. Ensure that they see the mission through to the end."

Once that's all out, Fisk reaches for his drink, begins to take a sip, then pauses before the glass touches his lips and throws out, "It is a ten million dollar job, to be divided between whatever operatives remain at the end of the mission. In light of your heightened responsibilities, I would be willing to discuss a bonus for your participation."

Fisk reaches into his black suit jacket and comes out with a photo of a middle-aged man wearing a dimly patterned polo and slacks, which he sets on the desk.

"My people's investigation into Luis Madron's likely dissemination of your father's work has borne fruit…"


"Money is of little concern to me, Mister Fisk. My family's empire may not be as strong as it once was, but I have enough to provide for my needs." And Yuriko is not just saying that. It's admittedly difficult to read her uncanny valley expression, but she seems sincere. She isn't just lying about the money to posture as some in her position might.

The photo is of far more interest to her. She follows its movement, unblinking, like a watchful owl. "If you provide the intelligence I have requested, I will continue to work for you. This is a mutually beneficial arrangement. I seek the things money cannot easily buy, but you have the resources to procure. That is worth far more to me than a few million dollars." She looks to the picture again, then back for him. "All I ask is that you excuse me from my duties should your intelligence present a time-sensitive opportunity."

"Very well," Fisk says while pouring a glass for Yuriko and refreshing his own. "Duty to one's family is important indeed."

The photo remains for the taking as he raises his glass. "His name is Janus Pohlman. Prior to HYDRA's collapse, he was primarily employed by them as an information broker; these days, he has found himself struggling to find anyone to return his calls while SHIELD and its costumed help is busy locking away anything that so much as smells of serpent. I believe his current lot is primarily focused on cybernetic implantation data gathered from a number of sources."

If Yuriko actually takes her glass, Fisk will take a moment to do some clinking; if not, he'll just sip from his own glass. "I suspect he's gone to great lengths to hide himself, of course, given the current climate," he notes afterwards. "He hasn't been seen since the collapse, merely communicated with via the deep web." A sharp, humorless smile stretches Fisk's features. "My people are working on it, of course."

As the smile fades and he swirls the soctch around, he continues, "Now. As for your task: I will need you to maim, kidnap, and kill without hesitation. Furthermore, the other operatives will not know who it is that has hired them; this is for security purposes. You are not to tell them; will any of this be a problem?"


The drink is not really registered. It's not that Yuriko doesn't want it or it's some kind of power play - she just doesn't seem to realize it's there and it's for her. She's distracted instead by the picture and the intelligence that Fisk is offering her.

She picks up the photograph and there's a slight contraction of her left iris. She commits the man's face to cybernetic memory, then sets it back down on the table as if it's something delicate.

She listens to the description of the job. "All in the name of securing your territory, no doubt. Against this man who would threaten you?" She then lifts her chin and says simply. "No problem."

"Truth be told," Fisk replies as his features fall into a contemplative scowl, "given enough time to study him, I have little doubt that I could retake what was mine and then some without calling on you, and gambling on the talents and loyalties of mercenaries." He takes a long drink, sucks in a little air through his teeth, then lets the scotch flow down his tongue and throat.

"But he threatened my family, and for that… I would see his empire reduced to a ash and rubble. I would gaze into his eyes and see the flames of his life's work reflected in them as he begs me for his life— just before the darkness overtakes them for good."

This is followed by a heavy sigh as he sets his glass down and nudges Yuriko's closer to her.

"I have the utmost faith in your abilities, Ms. Oyama," he says while holding his hand out to her. "Do not disappoint me."


Yuriko meets Fisk's eyes. She listens as he speaks of revenge in the name of his family. "On this point, we understand each other with perfect clarity." She seems to clue in to the fact that the glass is for her now. She picks it up and raises it in a salute, one eyebrow raising. Is that a hint of a smile? Must just be a glitch.

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