**
As they reached the car, Link opened the back door. Roslin, still deep in thought, looked up just before stepping inside and noticed another man in the car. It was Frank, pointing a silenced gun directly at him.
With a firm push from behind, Link forced Roslin into the car. There was no way Roslin could resist Link's strength.
*Bang!* The car door slammed shut. Link got into the driver's seat, started the engine, and they were off.
Roslin, still in shock, finally recognized Frank. After all, it was Frank who had taken out one of his eyes.
"Did you kill Russell?" Roslin asked.
"Yes. And you'll meet the same fate," Frank replied coldly. "This is for my wife and children."
"It wasn't me who arranged it," Roslin stammered, trying to lie his way out while frantically thinking of how to escape.
But Frank wasn't listening. He laughed hoarsely, saying, "It doesn't matter anymore. I wanted to kill you back then but failed, so I left. But you guys weren't willing to let me go, and I naively thought leaving would end it all."
Roslin tried to reason, "I'm just a small cog in the machine. It's the people above me who see you as a threat. I had no choice—it was Russell's doing."
"Shut up!" Frank suddenly roared, his anger erupting. "Don't try to worm your way out of this. Think carefully about what you're going to say in a moment!"
Roslin wasn't a fighter. He might be a CIA agent, but his strength lay in his intellect. Frank, on the other hand, was a seasoned Marine. And right now, Roslin realized he had lost his composure, likely due to the psychological attack Link had orchestrated. This man was a master of mind games, and Roslin had no way out.
Before long, the car pulled into an abandoned industrial area, and they stopped inside an old, derelict factory.
All three got out. Roslin tried to negotiate once more, but Frank wasn't willing to wait. He shot twice, hitting Roslin's knees, and the screams echoed through the empty building.
Frank then stepped forward, searching Roslin for weapons and taking everything before throwing away the gun. With his bare fists, Frank began his brutal act of vengeance.
Roslin, still pleading for his life, cried out, "The people behind me—you're no match for them! Let me go, and I can cover up everything about Russell!"
Frank wasn't listening. His hands were bloodied, his knuckles raw, but he kept going. Finally, he beat Roslin to death.
Link approached from behind and placed a hand on Frank's shoulder. "He's dead."
Breathing heavily, Frank collapsed onto the ground. Link grabbed him by the collar and gently laid him down. Frank stared up at the ceiling, his eyes unfocused, lying there as if all his energy had been drained.
Link lit a cigarette and smoked in silence. After several minutes, Frank finally stirred and asked, "Did I cause you any trouble?"
"No trouble at all," Link replied casually. "We may not be able to handle the people behind him, but if they trace this back to SHIELD, they'll back off. Don't worry about it." He handed Frank a towel. "You've vented enough. Go clean up. I'll take care of the rest."
As Frank washed up, Link scouted the area, eventually finding some gasoline. He returned to the factory and burned Roslin's body, ensuring there was no trace left behind.
After the job was done, the two left. Frank had finally gotten his revenge, though the guilt would likely never fully fade. Perhaps, in time or with a major distraction, things would improve for him.
---
A few days later, Wilson Fisk invited Link and Jessica to dinner once more. Link wasn't sure what Fisk had in mind, but he attended with Jessica nonetheless.
Vanessa greeted them warmly, hugging both Jessica and Link in the typical Western fashion. "I'm so glad you both could come. Wilson values your opinion greatly," Vanessa said.
"Thank you, but it's your decision to make," Link replied politely. "I only offer advice."
As they sat down, a waiter poured drinks, and Fisk raised his glass. "To the successful collaboration of our two charities. Let's toast to the future of our endeavors."
They all clinked glasses and sipped lightly.
Without delay, Fisk dove into the real reason for the gathering. "I've been thinking about partnering with the Rand Corporation. What's your take on that?"
Link was a bit surprised. "Why the sudden interest in a partnership?"
Fisk sighed and began explaining. The Rand Corporation had once belonged to Wendell Rand. Fifteen years ago, Wendell, his wife, and their son went missing during a private plane trip. Their plane was never found, and they were presumed dead, but no formal declaration was ever made due to the lack of evidence. Thus, the Rand Corporation's shares had been placed in trust.
Recently, Wendell's son, Danny Rand, had returned, proved his identity, and reclaimed over 51% of the company's shares.
Harold Meachum, Wendell's former friend and business partner, had taken control of the company after Wendell's disappearance. Harold's children, Ward and Joy Meachum, had since grown up and joined the company.
However, Harold had been diagnosed with a terminal illness and supposedly died shortly after.
"But he wasn't really dead," Fisk continued. "He was living in secret. Then, out of nowhere, he reappeared and began frantically searching for The Hand. Eventually, he came to me for answers."
Fisk admitted he had no idea about The Hand's sudden disappearance, but he shared what little he knew. "Madam Gao, who you've met, was part of The Hand, and they once supported me financially. But one night, they vanished without a trace."
The sudden disappearance of such a powerful group had Fisk unnerved. "It's terrifying, really. I had no clue what was happening right under my nose."
"I know a little about them, but not enough," Link said, prompting Fisk to continue.
"Harold is now truly dead," Fisk added. "It seems his son knows the full story, but his daughter doesn't. They even had a public argument over it."
"None of that really matters. What matters is that Danny Rand, having learned the truth, came to me asking questions about The Hand."
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(Chapter End)