Post by Firelizard on Aug 12, 2024 22:29:01 GMT
Wilson Fisk descended from a nondescript sedan, fixing the collar of his white suit and black undershirt. The ground seemed to groan beneath the weight and stature of the gargantuan man. An underling hurried behind to close the door before flanking his boss. Another well dressed man appeared beside the door closing associate, giving his companion a nervous glance before returning his gaze to Fisk’s massive back. Their employer glanced up at a tall, squat building dressed in white paint and small windows. A sign bearing the Union Allied Construction logo stretched across the exterior of the gargantuan structure. It might not have stretched into the sky like the multitude of other steel and concrete columns ascending to the heavens. But what it lacked in sheer verticality it more than made up for in terms of symmetrical aesthetics. It also helped that the original owner had quite a large family. It had only taken a few threats to make the man cave. The same could not be said for that property owner at the docks who had had the gall to ask for thrice the market price. Not that it mattered, he and his building would soon be a thing of the past. The first of many barnacles to be scraped away from this disgusting mess of a city.
“Mr. Fuches, inform our associates that phase one has formally begun. I want our operation to be up and running by sunrise at the latest.”
Fuches nodded and walked back to the vehicle they had driven into Gotham, speaking into a phone and briskly walking back and forth. The full weight of the Kingpin criminal empire was about to descend upon this husk of a city, mired in the shadows of decay. Fisk looked up at the sky, flanked and hemmed in by the buildings above. A full moon glimmered, fog rolling in to cover it in smoke. He breathed in the noxious fumes of Gotham, mind racing with all the possibilities available to him in this mess of a city. New York City was truly his home and where he would be full time if allowed, after all. It deserved a sibling from across the water that did not exist in such muck and squalor, however. This was to be a working vacation of sorts, a respite and retreat from dealing with the likes of unlikable men such as Black Mask. Kingpin nodded to his underling as the young man entered a code and held open an old oaken door.
“Have you heard of the ancient Japanese art of kintsugi, Mr. Bharat?”
Kingpin looked in the direction of his remaining underling before walking into the foyer of his newest real estate asset. Tarps and other elements of construction lay strewn around the building, a thick layer of dust and molecularly pulverized concrete sticking to almost every surface. The crews would be back by morning, they had already hurried enough to make the structure even somewhat palatable to its new owner. Marble, granite, and onyx lined hallways came into focus as the lights activated with a single click from Bharat’s phone. Fisk laid a hand against a marred wooden surface, hammer marks and slightly bent nails catching his eye.
“Something that is perfect is beautiful, yes. One can become lost in a finely molded bit of porcelain, a painting of even more finely applied brushstrokes. But what of a useless thing, a city, for example? Imperfect, a truly blighted thing. Shattered into a million different moving parts, no serenity to be had…”
The henchman nodded in agreement, used to his boss waxing lyrical on the state of the world. The man had good reason to do so, of course. He had built an empire of crime from the ground up. He had rid New York City of much of its ugliness, raised gleaming towers of modernity and brutalistic steel in its wake. Bharat jumped as Fisk gripped the wood paneling with a single hand, metal and wood groaning from the strength of their new adversary. With a single yell of exertion, Kingpin ripped the slab of wood and chucked it twenty feet into the open greeting area. It slid and came to a shuddering halt against an opposite wall, ugly and bent nails sticking out of its framing.
“And yet…that which is imperfect can be destroyed. Repaired, mended, improved. All those ugly, moving parts formed together to make something more beautiful than the sum of their parts. Yes, there is beauty in something that came into this world unblemished. There can also be beauty in that which is shattered and put back together again.”
Kingpin moved on from the now empty hole in the wall. His steps echoed and reverberated throughout the building as he came to a stop in front of an elevator. Its gleaming surface reflected its owner’s features, calm and far too composed for a man who had just tossed a thousand pound piece of wood as if it were a football. He waited for Fuches to return before taking the elevator up to the top floor. The sound of rushing water played from the elevator’s speakers was interrupted by a smooth ding. Its doors opened up to an immaculately constructed hallway. The lighting was done just right, the interplay of shadows interrupted by spotlights highlighting all manner of painting or artifact. A massive office lay at the end of the artistic crucible, large glass windows overlooking Gotham flanked by a massive desk. The crane that had lifted said desk to the top floor still sat in view, a Union Allied Construction logo flashing across its surface. The utterly massive structure that was the Gotham Knights Sports Dome lay just off in the distance, overhead lights gleaming even through the ever present Gotham fog. The large glass doors slid from side to side to allow Fisk entry. He sat in the chair behind the gargantuan desk, one hand fidgeting with the other as he looked at the blank computer screens atop the desk.
“Mr. Fuches, would you be so kind as to get me in touch with a certain individual who goes by the name Firefly?”
