Kilgraved

Checkmate

Elsewhere, the moon shone on a penthouse in downtown Manhattan, near Hell's Kitchen. The overbearing building looked down upon all of it's neighboring structures. Sitting in this penthouse, on the top floor was a bulky, bald headed white man. He wore a two layer, two piece suit consisting of silk and the colors Grey and Black which were his favorites to sport. His eyes fixed heavily on the chess game that was at hand, the man across from him was much thinner but had some muscle on him. Glasses welcomed his eyes and sat on his nose as he watched his opponent carefully observe and scour the board. Suddenly with one swift, subtle movement, the bald powerhouse moved his rook two spaces diagonally, towards the younger mans king. "Checkmate Wesley." The brooding figure said shortly, feeling more than welcome to review all the pieces he had ready to take the king. Wesley examined the board with shocked and calculating eyes before sighing, knocking over his king with the tip of his index finger. "Tell me sir, why do I get dragged into these games when it's inevitable that I won't succeed?" The man known as Wilson Fisk gave a halfhearted smile whilst taking a mouthful of his favorite Omelets with Basel. "Because, this game is full of pawns, needing to be sacrificed for the greater power like in this world. You're a smart man Wesley and I must test that intellect. Plus it's just enjoyable to defeat you." At the end of that sentence, Wesley let out a sarcastic scoff that ended with a grin. "Well it's an honor to be defeated by you sir." Instantly, Wesley's phone buzzed before he answered it and took a few minutes to listen. Upon hanging up, Wesley stood up and faced Wilson with a curled smirk on his face. "Kilgrave is on his way sir."