He had encountered many different people over the course of his life, some were strong and some were weak. There were some he had killed, others he had allied himself with. Others he had served and others he forced to serve him.
But never once had he been afraid of anyone.
Fear was the mind-killer and Kingpin had spent much of his life building himself up from nothing. Being afraid of those around him would have only led to stagnation and death, the very thing that Kingpin had sort to always avoid, no matter the cost.
He had strived high and swung low, never once being afraid of the consequences that might come about because of his actions. Kingpin always moved forwards, pushing the boundaries of what was possible, never once believing something to be impossible. No matter the task, he had succeeded and managed to carve out a place for himself in a world that would have otherwise chewed him up and spat him back out.
Yet never once had he felt this feeling before.
It was not fear, but something similar.
Kingpin was uncomfortable like prey sitting before a predator that chose not to devour him. He was prey just waiting for the moment that the predator was done playing around with his food and decided to eat him whole.
Even when he was surrounded by his guards in a place he often felt most comfortable and secure, as the man sat across from him calmly and collected, Kingpin felt that same feeling pressing down upon him. An unseen pressure bore down upon him and made him feel a little hot under the collar, he had to restrain the urge to adjust his collar.
He instead leaned forward, his large frame moving with feigned calmness as he interlocked his fingers and stared out across at the figure before him. "What can I do for you, Mister Essex?" Kingpin wondered, the well-dressed man with unnaturally pale skin that stood out even more with the blackness of his hair and goatee contrasting against it.
"It is not what you can do for me, Wilson Fisk," Essex replied amicably with an unnerving smile. "But instead what I can do for you?"
"...And what can you do for me?" He asked after a moment's pause.
Wilson was on edge, more so now than ever before.
Rarely had he been in this position, often the one that offered aid to someone else who believed themselves to be in a higher position of power. It was why he was so on edge because Wilson knew what followed next, he had done it enough times to see the trick.
Wilson was being used, being played by the man who had introduced himself as Nathaniel Essex. He was being used for as long as he proved useful and then when he no longer served a use to him, Nathaniel would be rid of him, and their positions changed in the blink of an eye. But Wilson doubted that Nathaniel seemed to care for the world of criminals and instead, had other ambitions.
"I'm aware of your partnership with Norman Osborn; or, perhaps I should say your ownership of him and his company." The upturn of Nathaniel's lips showed just how easily he had found out that information, something which remained a secret to the rest of the world. "I know that you are using him to provide superpowered soldiers for your criminal enterprise, a way to combat not only Mutants but also the likes of the Fantastic Four and that new hero, the Spider-Man."
None of what he had said was a lie and Wilson frowned the more he spoke.
Norman was but a puppet, one that was allowed to run his company in the public eye whereas Wilson was the real owner of Oscorp. A hostile takeover that all began from the moment Norman had hired outside help to kill his partner and mentor, Mendel Stromm.
The use of superpowered soldiers was also precisely what Wilson was looking to get his hands on, not only as a means to combat the small, rising group of superpowered vigilantes but also as a means to gain insight into the militaries of the world. It was Wilson's goal to not only secure military contracts for Oscorp, but he was also aiming to manufacture a superpowered arms race where which, Oscorp as the biggest supplier of superpowered soldiers would benefit it most.
Where he, Wilson Fisk would benefit most.
Yet these plans were known only to him, so how did Nathaniel Essex know of them?
It was a foolish question to ask and Wilson would not even do so, it would only make him look weak. That was something he could not afford when Nathaniel Essex clearly had plans for him and Kingpin wanted to survive and achieve much more.
Nothing good would come of working with this strange man, but at the same time, if Kingpin could play this right, he might be able to benefit enormously from it.
It all depended though on what he did from this point on.
"I also know that you're aware of the dealings Norman has been making with the Maggia branch here in New York, the one run by Hammerhead." The fact that Norman thought he didn't know of that amused Wilson and was something he let slide simply because it was serving to make his plans accelerate. "Yet things have taken an unexpected turn with the recent troubles the Avenging Angel has caused for you. Especially since you do not know who the Avenging Angel is."
"And who is he then?"
"Well, that's the first way in which I can help you," Nathaniel replied. "His name is Warren Worthington the Third, heir to Worthington Industries, who I do believe are members of that elite group of businessmen, the Hellfire Club."
That mention widened Kingpin's eyes, realising he had stepped on some big toes. He had personally had little interaction with the club, but Wilson knew enough to be wary of crossing them. Considering they had their own private army and had fingers in nearly every pie of the business, economic and political world, they were practically the world's biggest superpower and no one even knew about it.
"Luckily for you, Worthington Industries are a small-time member of the Hellfire Club, hardly a big player," Nathaniel said, taking great amusement in watching Wilson plan how to rectify this situation. He had clearly not cared for who the Avenging Angel was, only focused on the powers he had and the possibility of replicating them. "All you would have to do is arrange for his escape, nothing will be done against Oscorp."
That was the conclusion that Wilson had reached as well.
If Warren Worthington Jr ever did learn his son was captured and whether he knew his son was Mutant or not, he would have to admit it. Maybe not to the public, but at the very least, it would be known to others amongst the Hellfire Club and Wilson while not knowing the exact stance they had taken towards Mutants, he did know that a lot of their members had been outspoken against Mutants.
It would do irreparable damage to Worthington Industries' reputation and the family name itself. So, like Nathaniel Essex had said, arranging the escape of Warren after they had gotten what they needed from him was for the best.
Though it was unfortunate as it would mean they would have a thorn in their side, but they could use this as leverage over Worthington Industries itself. As Wilson was often used to doing, he was good at finding the silver lining within the dark clouds. It was part of the job, manipulating the negatives into ways that could bring immense profit to his organisation and something he had become quite adept at doing.
"You said that was first." Wilson finally said, having been deep in thought. "What comes second?"
Nathaniel smiled, it was dangerous and once again, that same uncomfortable feeling that had slowly ebbed away over the course of their conversation came back in full force. "Why, I can do far more for your efforts to create superpowered soldiers than Oscorp and its scientists can."
Then he snapped his fingers and there was a pause, Wilson looked around warily for something to happen, he didn't have to wait long.
On the other end of the door, he could hear gunshots and the sounds of fighting. There were cries and the sound of something heavy and hard smacking into bodies. Even over the symphony of noise, he could clearly hear the sound of heavy footsteps and the breaking of bones.
Then the door burst off its hinges, the thick, ornate and expensive wooden frames having massive holes in them, splinters littering the floor as it was almost folded in half. The broken frames cracked even further as the large man stepped inside, lumbering forwards, Wilson's few remaining men looking afraid and unsure of what to do next.
"Do you recognise him?" Even before Nathaniel spoke, Wilson had already realised who stood before him.
Alonzo 'Tombstone' Lincoln.
Bodyguard and one of Hammerhead's most effective lieutenants.
A man, much like himself with unnatural physical strength and durability that seemed beyond human limits. Yet what he was seeing was beyond what Wilson had ever believed Tombstone to be capable of.
"Why is Tombstone here?" He asked warily, for a moment convinced that Nathaniel Essex was working for Hammerhead.
The thought was dismissed as soon as it came to him, this was a show, a way to show off his latest product. There was no need to have gone through all this just to kill him off now, which once again, led to Kingpin being confused as to who and what Nathaniel Essex wanted.
"I found him at the bottom of port, he was dead," Nathaniel said dismissively. "From what I know, he had been sent there by Hammerhead to meet with and recruit the Grady Gang. Avenging Angel intervened and he was not alone." Kingpin had already figured that much out already, Avenging Angel was many things, but capable of taking out Tombstone, that was unlikely.
He had his eyes set on Avenging Angel for a while, same with the Spider-Man and while an opportunity had not come for him to capture the latter, the former had been easy to acquire. His men lured him into a trap and took care of him easily, for Tombstone to have been taken out by Avenging Angel was unlikely, let alone being killed by him.
There had to have been someone else.
"I have since revived him and improved Tombstone further." Nathaniel continued. "His strength and durability have been improved tenfold. There is not a person in this city, not even the Spider-Man that can match him in a contest of brute force. He is also completely loyal, unfortunately, my means of reviving people from the dead has not been fully finalised. His body is alive, but his brain is very much, dead. He is a puppet, downloaded with just enough information for him to function, but little else. All he does is follow orders, the perfect soldier and my gift to you."
"In return for what?" Kingpin questioned. "You have done two things for me without asking for anything in return."
Nathaniel smiled. "Oh, I just haven't gotten around to asking for things yet. But, what I want is simple. As we know, the Avenging Angel did not kill Tombstone, there was another with him. That other is someone I have had my eye on for a very long time, I want your help in retrieving him."
"That is all?" Kingpin asked bemused and unbelieving that a single person was all Nathaniel Essex wanted.
Unless there was something more to this person than met the eye?
"There is little else you can give me that I do not already have." It was a slap to the face, but one that Wilson ignored as considered everything.
Then he nodded his head. "Very well. What is this person's name?"
"Scott Summers."