Spider-Man paced outside the room, his arms crossed, his fingers drumming anxiously against his biceps. His enhanced senses strained, but Gojo had done something—perhaps a sound barrier or some kind of jamming field—that prevented him from hearing what was happening inside. He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his mask, trying to push away the gnawing feeling in his gut.
He wasn't going to kill Fisk, right?
That thought made him stop. He hesitated at the door, reaching out until his gloved fingers nearly touched the handle. But then, shaking his head, he retracted his hand. No. He'd wait. See how this played out.
---
Inside, Wilson Fisk struggled against the pain searing through his shoulder, sweat dripping down his face as he glared at the man standing before him.
How did this happen? Him? Kingpin? Now groveling like a worm at the feet of a mere child? No—no, not a child. A mutant. A freak. A monster with power beyond comprehension.
His jaw clenched as he managed to speak through gritted teeth. "Why are you even doing this?"
Gojo's smile remained cold and impassive as Fisk continued, his voice rising in frustration. "You act like some kind of righteous executioner, yet there are plenty out there who do worse than I do! The government, the corporations, the so-called elites—they all exploit the weak. So why focus on me?!"
Gojo tilted his head slightly before answering in the most nonchalant tone imaginable, "Your men blew up my favorite candy shop."
For a moment, Fisk's brain simply refused to process those words.
"What?"
The sheer absurdity of the statement made him laugh—a deep, guttural, pained laugh that shook his whole body. "All this for a FUCKING CANDY SHOP?!"
Gojo watched him quietly before speaking again, his voice still light. "Mostly, yes. But, you see, I never liked you, Fisk."
Fisk's laughter died instantly as his body was suddenly lifted off the ground, held in place by an invisible force. His limbs refused to move, his breathing sharp and erratic as Gojo approached.
"Your character is flawed," Gojo mused, observing Fisk like a scientist examining a failed experiment. "Some say you're necessary to keep the underworld in check. I beg to differ. But… I suppose even the underworld needs a leash."
Fisk narrowed his eyes. "Control is necessary. Without me, the criminals in this city would be running wild. I take from those who can't keep what they have because they disgust me. The weak should grovel. I will make this city my domain. I will rule it."
Gojo's expression darkened, and the air in the room shifted. The temperature soared again, the heat becoming suffocating, faint wisps of steam rising from his body. Fisk's suit stuck to his skin as sweat poured from every pore of his body.
Gojo turned slightly, pacing around the suspended crime lord. "We're going to flip the script. From now on, you'll use your resources—your men, your wealth, your power—not to spread crime, but to keep the lower levels of this city safe. You will put the gangs in line, eliminate chaos, and maintain order without fueling it. Every ounce of suffering you've caused—you will undo."
Fisk seethed in silence, his mind warring against the very idea.
"Oh, and you'll be funding shelters. Lots of them. The homeless, the destitute—they'll be under your protection now. And your men? They'll follow. I don't care how you make it happen, but if they step out of line…"
Gojo's smile sharpened as he stopped directly in front of Fisk, his eyes glowing an eerie red. The air itself seemed to thrum with heat as Fisk's skin prickled uncomfortably.
"If just one problem arises, and it's your people's doing…" Gojo leaned in, his voice dropping into something almost too soft, too terrifying. "You will face the consequences."
Fisk shuddered involuntarily, his rage momentarily overshadowed by something he hadn't felt in a long time—fear.
Gojo suddenly grinned. "Oh, and before I forget—you'll be funding my candy subscription from now on."
Fisk's mind blanked. He had no words.
Fisk's mind raged. The sheer audacity of this demand was infuriating. The idea of wasting his resources on such… charity was repulsive. But he remained silent, unwilling to give Gojo the satisfaction of his outburst.
Gojo sighed dramatically. "Oh, don't worry. You don't actually have to agree." He flicked Fisk's forehead lightly.
Fisk's eyes widened as he felt something shift within him, a horrifying realization dawning on him.
Gojo's smile widened. "I'll just tweak a few things."
His eyes glowed blue once more. "Relax. You won't feel a thing. You'll think it was your own idea." He chuckled. "A little conditioning, nothing too obvious. Even another telepath won't be able to detect it."
Fisk wanted to scream, to fight, to resist—but it was already too late. The world around him blurred, his consciousness slipping into an abyss.
---
Outside, Spider-Man stood stiffly as the door creaked open. Gojo stepped out, a satisfied smile on his face.
Spider-Man's eyes darted past him, widening at the sight of Fisk slumped in his chair, spit dripping from his mouth, his suit soaked in sweat, and a cauterized hole in his shoulder.
"What the hell did you do?" Spider-Man asked, his voice tense.
Gojo waved a hand dismissively. "Relax. I didn't go too far."
Spider-Man folded his arms, unconvinced.
Gojo, meanwhile, glanced back at Fisk and thought to himself, 'Hopefully, my version of shisui's kotoamatsukami worked. I'd hate to have to come back and finish a potential minion.'
With that, he turned on his heel and strolled down the hall. "Okay, our work here is done. Let's go."
Peter blinked. "Wait, what? What about all these guys? And Fisk?"
Gojo shoved his hands into his pockets. "Don't worry about it. Fisk will handle it."
Peter gawked at him. "...Huh?"
Before he could argue further, Gojo disappeared, leaving him alone in a building full of unconscious criminals.
Peter let out a long sigh. "Seriously?"
He glanced around, then muttered, "Yeah, I'm just gonna go." And with that, he left.
---
Meanwhile, Gojo reappeared in front of the wreckage of a small shop, sucking on a lollipop. He glanced at the ruins with mild disinterest. "Well, that's one problem solved… I think."
With a sigh, he patted his pockets. "Now, where the hell did I keep my—" He paused. "Oh yeah, I gave it to Donna."
A beat of silence.
"...Wait. Where does Donna live?"
He looked around sheepishly before clicking his tongue. "Great. Guess I'll have to track her down."
He turned to leave but hesitated, his mind flashing back to Donna's tearful face when the shop was destroyed. He glanced at the wreckage one last time before disappearing into the night.
---
The next morning, Donna, a woman with chestnut hair, arrived at the site with a bag of candy in hand. Her expression was somber. But as she approached, she stopped dead in her tracks.
Her eyes widened. "What the—?"
The shop, it was supposed to be a wreck, nothing but rubbles but it… was completely intact. Just as it was before. As if nothing had happened.
In disbelief, she ran to the door, threw it open, stepped inside, then ran back out again. She did it three more times before she heard a groggy voice behind her.
"Will you stop that? I'm trying to sleep."
She whirled around startled to see Gojo lying on the counter, yawning.
Her mouth opened and closed. "The—the—the shop—"
Gojo sat up. "Yes, yes. The shop."
"But it was—"
He grinned. "Was it?"
Donna stammered, "I don't—"
"What's there to understand?"
Speechless, she stared. Gojo's gaze dropped to the bag in her hands.
"Ah, yes. I was waiting for that."
Without another word, she handed it to him, still in shock.
Gojo nodded. "Okay then. Bye, Donna. I'll be back."
And just like that, he left, leaving Donna standing there alone.
She exhaled deeply, rubbing her temples. "I fucking need a drink."