There were only a handful of people with the wealth and power to reserve so many venues at once and keep everyone else silent.
When Bullseye appeared, Blaine had already guessed who was behind it.
He had even met him once before at the golf course, back when he first bought the villa.
Kingpin was still alive. Daredevil's efficiency seemed a bit low. The last Blaine saw of him, Daredevil was chasing those orcs outside the bank. Who knew how that ended? Judging by the timeline, Kingpin wasn't yet locked in combat with him.
"Speak quickly. I have other things to do."
"Don't worry." Fisk said calmly. "I didn't come here to fight. I came here to meet you. You see, I reserved this entire place just for our conversation."
"Hmph. Very thoughtful of you…"
Blaine snorted, pulling out a chair and sitting down.
"I heard you killed one of the Hand's leaders…"
"What?" Blaine stiffened.
It was true—Bakuto had been killed by him. More accurately, by the Bounty Hunter. Outsiders only knew the name "Bounty Hunter," not Blaine's identity.
"Don't be nervous," Fisk said. "Madame Gao told me."
He sat across from Blaine, taking a long drag on his cigar before releasing a thick smoke ring.
That made sense. Blaine's old safehouse in Queens had been destroyed by Killian. Since the Hand had tracked him to his home, they must have seen his real face. And the Hand had ties to criminal syndicates worldwide. By now, many in the underworld knew the Bounty Hunter was Blaine.
Realizing this, Blaine relaxed slightly.
Killian and the Vice President had died yesterday, and word spread quickly. Their deaths showed everyone that Blaine, as the Bounty Hunter, took on jobs in both black and white. Killing the Vice President also lowered the gangsters' suspicion of him. That was no doubt why Fisk had come in person.
Tracking down the Bounty Hunter was difficult, but finding Blaine was easier. And with his current strength, Blaine no longer needed to hide. He could walk openly through New York with confidence.
"Yes, I killed him. What of it? Looking for revenge?"
Inside, Blaine was pleased. Bakuto's death proved the Cursed Blood Knife worked against the Hand's Five Fingers. Even their keels couldn't resist its poison. The remaining four immortals wouldn't be sleeping easy. After centuries of safety, the thought of someone who could kill them would leave them shaken.
For now, Blaine wouldn't need to worry about the Hand's assassins coming after him—the organization would be too unsettled.
"Blaine, you must be kidding," Fisk said, shaking his head. "With your abilities, I wouldn't dare move against you. I know you don't want your identity revealed, so I rented out this entire district. A show of sincerity, which I trust you understand."
"Fine. Get to the point. What do you want from me?"
Blaine found it strange that the so-called Kingpin of Crime kept repeating his name. Looking down at Bullseye, who was still pinned to the ground, too afraid to move, Blaine nearly laughed.
"Who would have thought the feared Bounty Hunter was so young?" Fisk mused. "Truly, as the old saying goes, heroes rise from youth. Promising, talented, destined for success—"
"Enough. Spare me the flattery. Speak, or I'm leaving."
Blaine's patience was thinning. Compliments made him uncomfortable.
'System,' Blaine whispered inwardly, 'mark this location. From now on, this villa will be my second base for accepting contracts.'
Fisk's words had reminded him: without a fixed point of contact, potential employers might not find him. He'd once planned to rebuild on the ruins of his old villa, but now that he could work openly, that was unnecessary.
"You are refreshingly straightforward," Fisk said smoothly. "Then I'll be direct. I've encountered some trouble. I want you to handle it."
"Who's the target?"
"Someone called Deadpool."
"…Huh? Not Daredevil?"
"Who's Daredevil?"
"Uh… forget it. Made that up."
Blaine nearly laughed. Daredevil's efficiency was so low that even Fisk, his greatest enemy, hadn't heard of him. Embarrassing.
But Deadpool? That was unexpected. Still, Fisk's reach was long. He'd crossed Spider-Man, Daredevil, the Punisher, the X-Men, even the Fantastic Four. One more nemesis wasn't surprising.
"That guy who slices bullets with swords? He's not easy prey."
"You know him?"
"Just acquainted."
"As expected of you. Young and gifted, resourceful, fearless—"
"Price."
Blaine cut him off sharply before the flattery dragged on again.
"So you will take the job?"
"As long as the price is right."
"How about five billion?"
As a businessman, Fisk always bargained first. But Blaine's expression made it clear he wasn't satisfied.
"That's too low. He's practically unkillable. Very difficult."
"Double it then-ten billion. That's as low as I can go. You know I have businesses to run. It's already a heavy expense."
"Is that so?"
With his mind-reading ability active, Blaine could see Fisk's real thoughts as clearly as if he were stripped bare.
"…Fine. Fifteen billion. Final offer."
"Deal. I'll take it."
The moment Fisk named the highest figure he was willing to pay, Blaine accepted, worried he might back out. Fifteen billion dollars an astronomical sum. For Blaine, it was a fortune beyond imagining, enough to last lifetimes.
It seemed his break would be ending soon.
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