Spider-Man and The Esper

107. Broken Kingpin, Last Good Moment With The Avengers

Ryker's Island was a high security prison, and a 20 year old Michael broke in that night, it was a week after the death of Carnage. He stopped outside of the mess hall, noticing a guard with blond hair, and the guard frowned.

“Spider-Man...”

“You like Fisk?” Spider-man asked instead of greeting.

The guard shook his head.

“Then whatever happens in there, you let it happen,” warned Spider-man.

The guard looked down, “understood.”

Spider-man had a feeling Fisk had already paid the guard off. The guard opened the gate, and Spider-man walked in, as the cell door shut. He walked forward, ignoring all the prisoners in orange suits, and there in the middle of the room was Wilson Fisk, dressed in an all white suit, with a cane topped with a diamond.

“As far as ambience is concerned, this isn’t what I had in mind. Something more... gladiator. But, as for an appreciative audience, I’d say it’s well.” Fisk grinned with a dark look as he looked at Michael, eye to eye.

Spider-man said nothing, merely stared at Fisk, who kept on monologuing.

“As I look at our audience, I see rapists, murderers, thieves and thugs,” said Fisk with a grin. All teeth. “But no matter how deprived they are, they’ll always look down on one man. The chump. The chump who believes in hope, the greater good! Ha!”

“But you... here... all because I shot an Avenger,” hummed Fisk, amused. “Why is that? All because I made an omelette after breaking a red-headed assassin— ”

One second Spider-man was 10 steps away from Fisk, the next he was in front of him, throwing punch after punch, slamming his fists into Fisk’s face, over and over again, and Fisk’s head was snapped back each time, as Spider-man slammed his foot into Fisk’s face, which knocked the man back.

Fisk glared at him, teeth grit, his eyes bruised, his reflection appearing in the red eyes of Spider-man’s mask, and the younger man stayed silent, staring Fisk down.

“No humour, or carefree attitude... making a mockery of the man he used to be, the only thing you have left is revenge - how sad — ”

Spider-man uppercut Fisk’s jaw, hearing his teeth smash together as they broke, and slammed a fist into his nose, breaking it, then into his cheek, then chest and neck. Again and again and again. Fisk tried to fight back, but each time Spider-man moved, slamming his fists and legs into his body.

Fisk stumbled back, but suddenly, there was a sharp whip on his back, making him fall forward, as he glanced behind him to see Spider-man appear out of nowhere in the blink of an eye in inhuman speed.

“You said you were here to kill me,” growled Fisk, wiping his bleeding nose, which coated his white suit. “So, get on with it. Kill me.”

Spider-man glared sharply, the light catching the whites of his mask.

“Say something, damn it!” Snapped Fisk, snarling.

“All right,” scowled Spider-man. “Why try and kill Black Widow? That’s rhetorical - I know why and you know why... she’s my teacher... and my mother figure...” Spider-man glared at Fisk, and took off his hat and coat, dropping them to the ground and threw his sling ring to the ground. “And I’m not here to kill you, Fisk.” 

Spider-man took off the top half of his suit, tying it around his waist, revealing his scars, muscles, which were noticeable on his entire body. He pulled off his mask and dropped it to the ground as he glared at Fisk, his buzz cut hair, his brown eyes hard, a sneer on his lips with too many teeth as Michael was out in the open for the room to see. “I am.”