Jaws of Death

Chapter 5

Wilson Fisk had expected a puny, scared-looking nerd with glasses. He was mistaken, for the most part. The boy ushered into his cell by the cops was of medium height, with a lean physique. His untidy jet black hair shared the color with his eyes. Dressed in a baggy jeans and shirt, he didn't look any different than an average teen roaming around in a neighborhood. There was even a bit of teenage awkwardness with the way he walked into the cell. The cops closed the cell gate and stepped aside.

Peter Parker strode into the cell and stood before Fisk in a clumsy gait. He motioned for the kid to sit down on the chair opposite him. And without a pause, Parker obeyed. He sat down on the chair and slightly leaned forward, as if he was keen on hearing what Fisk had to say.

His eyes!

Fisk prided himself of having a good sense of judgement and could guess a person's character by just looking at their facial expressions and eyes. Often, he was proved right. Yet, this boy's eyes bothered him. He was just a random kid, barely out of the adolescent age, and he had been arrested. If that didn't destroy his sense of confidence and security, being brought face to face with the biggest crime lord of New York ought to have. Hence, Fisk had expected to see fear in the boy's eyes. He had expected to see insecurity and even panic.

But, there was absolutely no hint of them in those black eyes!

Peter Parker was sitting on the chair before him, waiting for Fisk to talk. His face, posture and the way he drummed his fingers against one another conveyed a sense of nervousness that Fisk couldn't find in his eyes. Staring into them, Wilson Fisk felt as if Parker had been waiting for this moment a long time. In fact, there was the feeling as if the boy was in more control of the situation than Fisk himself.

I like this one!

"Peter Parker, isn't it?"

The boy nodded.

"You see, Mr. Parker, we share a striking similarity." Fisk flexed his fingers. "When I was a boy, a little younger than your age, I entered prison for the first time in my life as well. I was sent to a Juvenile correction facility for having broken my father's skull with a hammer when he beat up my mother.

"I killed him because I wanted to rid my mother of her suffering. I thought I was being noble. But two years of retrospection and loneliness in the juvenile prison taught me otherwise. Because, all along, I had looked up to my father and trusted his decisions. I believed he was right about using violence to gain respect and admired him. I learnt to grow out of my self-pity at being bullied and started becoming myself, because of my father. And yet, a man I respected so much fell into self-pity himself when he lost in the campaign for a seat in New York City council. He would drink a lot and wallow in despondency which he let out in short violent bursts of anger at my mother.

"I started loathing him. He was becoming a shell of his former self, consumed in hatred and fury. The act of me killing him was merely my decision to set myself free from the clutches of this man. In spite of what I had told myself at the time, I realized my actions had a personal interest to it. That's when I realized that life plays with our emotions. Especially in our youth, life entices us into thinking that we are doing a noble deed while in-fact we are just craving for something more, something personal and sinister."

Peter Parker didn't answer. But Fisk knew the boy was listening to every word keenly.

"You see, in your case, you thought it was a noble deed to go sniveling into the businesses of New York's crime bosses. You probably thought the citizens of New York City would sleep better if you put the Kingpin of Crime behind the bars. You thought the women of New York City would lead peaceful lives if you could shut down the sex trafficking completely. But that wasn't your actual motive.

"I did some research into your life, Peter Parker." Fisk jeered. As soon as he said that, there was a definitive tension in the eyes of the boy.

"Having lost your parents at a young age, you've lived a lonely life. Another similarity that we share. And given your lonely, asocial childhood, there are very few people that consider you a friend. You have barely had any girlfriends. In fact, it may well be that apart from your Aunt, you may have no one in your life."

Parker was frowning now but the kid didn't answer. He did nothing to refute or agree those claims which was a sign, Fisk thought, that he was going on the right track.

"Hence, I believe that your decision to put me behind bars, although so brave and heroic as it sounds, was really your attempt to garner some attention from the people in your life. It was only a pretext to make people care about you, to make women notice you and somehow fill that gaping hole in your life. Was it not?"

Fisk was now sneering at Peter Parker, who still sat speechless in the chair before him.

"Now Mr.Parker, your desire for attention or nobility, whichever one you choose to accept, has made you commit the most horrific mistake of your life. You see, I'm a man of pride. My father always said that if people don't give you respect, you've to squeeze it out of them. As soon as I realized that a young boy was trying to destabilize everything I've built and fought for, I understood that it was time I let everyone know that I do not tolerate such disrespect. That is why I've made you come here, Parker. That's why I made you come to me. So that, I can personally step on the ant with my boot.

"I'm going to lay out the future for you, Parker. In about an hour from now, this facility will suffer from power outage and 'technical difficulties' that'll cause some inmates to escape out of their cell. And in that hustle, Peter Parker will be killed. Your Aunt would suffer a similar fate. By morning, there won't be even a piece of human flesh that remains as a proof of your family's existence! And in three days, since there is no Peter Parker to submit evidence to the Court, Wilson Fisk will walk out a clean man. All this will be swept under the rug long before anyone can blink an eye."

The boy sat motionless. Fisk saw panic in those black eyes for the first time. Pure, unadulterated panic! But the cops were already marching into the cell, grabbing hold of the kid and dragging him out.

Fisk smiled to himself, satisfied. He had taught the boy to fear him.

Just as I will teach everyone else to fear me once again!