Chapter 58: You don't even want to call me Mr. Fisk

Manhattan District, the most chaotic Hell's Kitchen, is like the sewer of the entire New York.

Its chaotic degree gathers elite talents from all walks of life, and in a sense, it can even be compared to the lower nest.

If it were in the past, Obadiah, as a veteran of Stark Industries, would naturally look down on this group of bottom-level scum, but unfortunately, today is not what it used to be.

If he hadn't been forced to a dead end, he would never have wanted to find 'Wilson' no matter what.

Wilson Fisk is a well-known real estate businessman in New York City. He is usually charitable and participates in charitable activities many times. In the eyes of many people, he is a kind-hearted entrepreneur.

But unfortunately, everything has two sides, just like Wilson Fisk.

He also hides another unknown identity, which is the black-road emperor of the United States 'Kingpin,' a name that makes people hear the wind and fear!

His cruel and cunning means, and the background forces that can cover the sky, make Kingpin's position as stable as Mount Tai.

But any gang that offends 'Kingpin,' not even the next day, the head will be picked off and sent to the top floor of Fisk Tower, to the desk of that black-road emperor.

It was because of this that Obadiah didn't want to find 'Wilson.'

But unfortunately, Pepper Potts sneaking into the office to investigate made Obadiah perceive danger. He suspected that the good nephew had already started to suspect himself.

With the lessons learned from the last experience, Obadiah deeply understood a truth.

Either don't do it, or do it thoroughly!

Since that good nephew insisted on blocking his way, then simply remove him!

While thinking, he arrived at Fisk Tower.

Obadiah parked the car and pushed the door: "Take me to see Wilson."

The people at the door obviously received instructions, led Obadiah to take the exclusive elevator, and went straight to the top floor of Fisk's office.

"Long time no see, Spartan."

In the bright reception hall, a gorgeous crystal lamp hung.

The wool carpet hand-sewn from the Middle East felt very soft and comfortable when stepped on. Looking out, a huge medieval oil painting hung on the wall. Under the mural was a two-meter-diameter jujube red desk, sitting with a sturdy man wearing a tight extra-large suit.

Obadiah's weight of nearly two hundred pounds looked a bit thin in front of him.

Obviously, this was the black-road emperor who controlled the United States, the man known as 'Kingpin,' Wilson Fisk!

"Wilson, I came to find you, there is a deal."

Obadiah didn't want to delay time and went straight to the point: "After it is done, I will give you twenty billion dollars!"

Wilson's wider and thicker fingers than ordinary people clamped a cigar, looking at Obadiah, his tone was flat: "I am very happy that you can come to find me, but I am very dissatisfied with your attitude."

"What do you mean?"

Obadiah's face turned blue and red, looking a bit ugly.

Wilson, who was sitting in the chair, raised his eyelids slightly, his tone was still stable, and he couldn't hear joy or anger: "You came to find me for help, but you refused to call me 'Mr. Fisk'."

This, it was true.

Essentially, Obadiah looked down on Wilson.

A black-road stinking beggar, why compare with his American, pure-blooded Stars and Stripes?

He considered himself upper class, surrounded by congressmen or military generals. If he hadn't been forced to have no way, how could he come to find the black road to solve the problem?

But unfortunately, the situation was like this. Obadiah's face was extremely ugly, and he could only swallow this breath: "Mr. Fisk, I am willing......"

"Mr. Spartan, I want to remind you." Wilson tapped the table with his index finger, interrupting Obadiah mercilessly, and said indifferently: "Many people come to me for help. As a friend, I don't mind solving a little trouble for them, but you... from beginning to end, have no performance of respecting me."

"Then... respected Mr. Fisk, may I ask how I should express my respect for you?"

Obadiah was squeezed until his face was red and purple, but he knew very well that he was here to ask for help, so he could only swallow this breath.

"Kneel down."

Wilson sat in the chair, but it was like an insurmountable mountain.

That terrifying momentum suddenly pressed toward Obadiah, and the air in the entire living room seemed to be snatched away in an instant!

Instead, it was endless oppression. Although Obadiah had seen many high-ranking officials and nobles, no one could make him feel suffocated from the depths of his soul like Wilson!

Plop!

Finally, Obadiah couldn't bear it, his knees knelt on the soft wool carpet.

To put it bluntly, he was a businessman, and he had the courage to talk about transactions with terrorist organizations, just because he felt that his life would not be threatened.

But, Wilson was different. He was a man who started from scratch and built a black-road empire!

"Very good, Mr. Spartan."

Looking at Obadiah who was trembling and sweating, Wilson nodded slightly, his index finger tapped the table: "I saw awe in your eyes, this is very good... now, get up, let's talk about what your so-called transaction is."

Obadiah supported his somewhat soft knees and barely stood up again.

He looked at Wilson again, but his eyes were mixed with a trace of hidden awe invisibly.

"Respected Mr. Fisk, I want you to help me solve a few troubles." After the experience just now, Obadiah's speech clearly brought honorifics, and even revealed a trace of imperceptible fear in his words.

"Name."

Wilson said faintly.

"Tony Stark, Alvin Velsius."

Obadiah reported two names decisively, a flash of fierceness in his eyes: "I hope you can get rid of them as soon as possible. For this, I am willing to pay twenty billion dollars, with only one requirement, that is the micro-reactor on Tony Stark's chest!"

"Not enough."

Wilson lowered his eyelids and shook his head slightly: "The price you paid is not enough, Mr. Spartan."

Although he was a black-road emperor, he had to follow the 'rules' in the end, otherwise, how could he sit in this position just by being reckless?

Assassinating Tony Stark, that was a big thing that poked the sky!

Once exposed, it would not only be Congress and the military, but even the entire American financial and commercial circle would unite to boycott him.

The reason was very simple. You can kill Tony Stark today, and you can kill others tomorrow. If this continues, will everyone still do business?

Wilson could reach this step today, not by his strong physique, but by his cunning brain.

He knew very well that this deal... was not worth it!

"Fifty billion! Fifty billion dollars!"

Obadiah gritted his teeth and doubled the reward again: "Respected Mr. Fisk, as long as you agree, when I master Stark Industries, I am willing to share 5% of the annual profit!"

This time, in order to completely eradicate Tony Stark and that damn Alvin Velsius, he didn't care about the price!

5% of the annual profit of Stark Industries was a sky-high number!

When hearing this condition, even Wilson was moved: "Mr. Spartan, you should know how much trouble it will bring me to help you assassinate Tony Stark. This is not a matter of money, do you understand?"

"Mr. Fisk, I know very well the harm of this matter."

Obadiah didn't panic at all and directly sacrificed the last trump card: "So, I intend to give up the equity of Stark's weapons industry department as your compensation."

Wilson, who was originally unwilling, heard this: "But... speaking of which."

The equity of Stark's weapons industry department, there was no one in the world who didn't covet it. This was something the military squeezed their brains to get a little bit!

"Looking at you as my friend, I agree to you."

Wilson licked his lips, like a greedy beast that had taken off its human skin, surrounded by fierce and brutal aura: "I value friendship very much. Since you are my friend, then this matter... I will solve it for you, Mr. Spartan."

Friend? Friendship?

Listening to Wilson's disgusting words, Obadiah only felt ridiculous.

What friend, what friendship, clearly he took a fancy to money!

However, it doesn't matter!

Obadiah lowered his head, and a trace of ruthlessness flowed in his eyes.

When he got the micro-nuclear reactor, he could manufacture iron armor. What black-road emperor... go to hell! ===== CHAPTER 59 =====