The reinforced, bulletproof glass of Fisk Tower imploded, showering the penthouse in a cascade of crystalline shards. Yet, they were no more of an obstacle than ordinary panes of glass to the two figures who now stood amidst the wreckage.
Inside, Wilson Fisk, immaculate in a white suit, looked as though he were preparing for a quiet dinner. A massive, silver dining cart was laden with expensive delicacies and fine wine. He looked up, his expression one of mild annoyance rather than surprise.
"Are you the Kingpin?" Felicia asked, her voice steady as she rose to her full height. She had seen the photos in the intelligence dossier, but they did no justice to the reality of the man. He stood like a mountain of tailored flesh, radiating an aura of immense, gravitational power.
Fisk, in turn, seemed to have been expecting them. "I've been wondering when you would make your move," he said, his voice a low, cultured rumble. "Or whether I would have to take the initiative myself." He calmly set down his cutlery and poured himself a glass of deep red wine. From the moment the team he'd sent for Walter Hardy had gone silent, he knew someone would be coming to his door.
"I simply didn't expect it would be Prime, and…" His narrow eyes settled on Felicia, a flicker of genuine confusion in them, as if trying to place this new, formidable player on New York's stage.
"Black Cat," Felicia supplied, her chin held high.
"Black Cat?" Kingpin repeated the name, and a connection instantly sparked in his mind. Hardy the Cat. He understood. "It seems the rumors of the old thief's legacy were true. No wonder my men failed."
Even with enemies standing in the ruins of his office, Fisk's composure was unshakable. He savored a sip of his wine, then set the crystal glass down. He walked around the dining cart, facing them directly. "Prime," he said, acknowledging Ben. "I didn't expect you to involve yourself in this."
In Fisk's assessment, Prime had been a ghost, a phantom who had appeared only a few times. He had killed the Green Goblin, yes, but had never directly interfered with Fisk's own operations, unlike the other Spider-Man who was a constant thorn in his side. He had never considered Prime an enemy.
"Life, I find, is a series of transactions," Fisk continued, his tone dangerously reasonable. "I am curious to know what she offered you that I cannot offer more of. I am a man of immense resources."
Ben glanced from Felicia's lithe, powerful form to Kingpin's immense bulk. "Well, your offer is certainly heavier," he quipped. "But I have to decline. She's using the beauty trap on me, and frankly, the thought of you attempting the same in a skin-tight suit is something my mind can't unsee." He covered his eyes theatrically.
Fisk was unbothered. "I have a stable of beautiful women, Prime. Any type you desire." In his world, women were just another commodity.
Felicia bristled, but Ben spoke first. "Perhaps. But I doubt any of them can crush a man's skull with a single swipe of their claws."
Felicia blinked. She had been pleased by the first half of his sentence, but the second part left her momentarily speechless.
"So, there is nothing to discuss," Fisk concluded, his voice flat. He placed a massive hand on the dining cart behind him. "A pity."
And then he threw it.
The cart, weighing several hundred pounds and laden with food and plates, flew across the room like a cannonball. The sense of raw, oppressive force was staggering. Ben and Felicia dove to opposite sides as the cart smashed into the far wall, crumpling like a flattened soda can.
Simultaneously, alarms blared throughout the tower, and the entire penthouse was bathed in flashing red light. With a deafening clang, thick metal blast doors slammed down over every window and exit, turning the opulent hall into an airtight cage. From the darkened depths of the room, several imposing figures emerged. Kingpin had been prepared.
"Fisk, my quarrel is with Spider-Man and Peter Parker, not this pretender!" one of them roared, a man encased in green, scorpion-like biological armor.
The other was a familiar face: the Rhino. They were flanked by a dozen heavily armed assassins.
"Patience, Mac," Kingpin said calmly. "We'll kill the original Spider-Man after we've dealt with this one."
Mac Gargan, the Scorpion. Ben was genuinely surprised to see him. Peter hadn't mentioned encountering him recently. "If your problem is with Spider-Man, what did Peter Parker ever do to you?"
"If it weren't for that sniveling Parker, Jameson never would have fired me!" Gargan screamed, his voice distorted by his helmet. In this universe, it seemed Gargan was the one who had outed Peter's identity during an attack on the Daily Bugle, a desperate act he claimed had saved Jameson's life. "I saved the old bastard, and he threw me out like trash! I'll skin them both, sooner or later!"
"Okay, okay, I get it," Ben waved a dismissive hand. "Honestly, not interested in your life story."
Scorpion sputtered, his rage overriding all reason. He charged forward, his armored fists raised. On the other side of the room, the brainless Alexei lowered his head and thundered toward Felicia.
Ben didn't bother transforming. He didn't need to. He met Scorpion's charge with a flying kick that sent the armored villain sailing backward into the reinforced wall. It was a common misconception that Spider-Man was merely an agile fighter. Ben landed lightly and fired two strands of webbing.
The next moment, Alexei, who was charging like a freight train, found his feet churning uselessly against the marble floor. He looked back dumbly to see two web lines attached to his back, held effortlessly in one hand by Prime.
"This way, big guy," Ben said. He yanked hard on the webbing, swinging the massive Rhino around like a human meteor hammer and launching him directly at the groaning Scorpion. "Special delivery. The Rhino Express. You're welcome."
Scorpion looked up just in time for his face to turn a shade greener than his armor.
CRASH!
The two villains collided in a tangled heap of groaning metal and flesh.
At the same time, Felicia was a blur of motion, weaving through a hail of bullets from the assassins. Her suit could stop a few rounds, but it still hurt, and her head was unprotected. She kicked over a heavy mahogany table for cover, then exploded from behind it at the perfect moment. Her claws tore through kevlar vests and slit throats with brutal, feline efficiency. The cat was cruel.
With the assassins dispatched, she launched herself at her true target. "You're finished, Fisk!" she snarled, her claws a silver flurry aimed at his face. She truly meant to kill him. This was the man who had tried to steal her father; he would not hesitate to target her mother or anyone else she cared about.
But what happened next shocked her. She landed a powerful spinning kick against his chest, a blow that would have shattered the bones of an ordinary man. Kingpin simply absorbed it, his immense body not even quivering. He hadn't even bothered to block.
Felicia stared in disbelief. In response, Fisk swung a fist the size of her head. The wind from the punch alone was like a physical blow. She crossed her arms to block, but the force sent her flying backward. She skidded across the floor, her claws digging deep gouges into the marble to slow her momentum.
This time, even Ben was surprised. Kingpin is this strong? The man had achieved power comparable to the Super Soldier Serum through sheer training and force of will.
Seeing Ben was distracted, the recovering Rhino and Scorpion saw their chance. They charged him from behind, the Rhino's horn aimed at his spine, Scorpion's venomous tail striking for his head.
Without looking back, Ben sidestepped the dual attack. He caught Scorpion's tail in a backhanded grip, spun, and plunged its venomous tip directly into the Rhino's thick hide. The venom wasn't lethal to Alexei, but the searing pain sent him into a blind rage.
"You dare strike Alexei!" he bellowed, turning his fury from Ben to the Scorpion. The two villains began brawling with each other, completely forgetting their original target.
Ben never took his eyes off Felicia's fight. There was something wrong with Kingpin. Felicia, recovering quickly, was now using the fluid techniques her father had taught her, using her agility and the reach of her claws to wear him down. She was too fast for him, and her claws were too sharp to block. Inevitably, they found their mark.
Each slash tore through Fisk's expensive suit, drawing blood. As his jacket was shredded, it revealed not just skin, but a dark, intricate network of what looked like tattoos. Ben narrowed his eyes. They weren't tattoos. They were the seams of subdermal armor plating woven just beneath his skin. Fisk had modified his own body.
Even so, Ben didn't interfere. If the fight continued, Felicia would win. Kingpin was strong, but he lacked true skill. She would wear him down.
The alarms had drawn every gangster and hired gun in the building. Hearing the growing army outside, Ben turned his attention to crowd control, leaving Felicia to her battle. He began systematically and silently webbing up the arriving thugs, hanging them from the ceiling in thick cocoons. The stream of reinforcements was endless, and soon the ceiling was crowded with them.
Hundreds of guns were aimed at the lone figure of Prime.
"Surrender, Spider-Man! You shouldn't have come to Kingpin's house!" one of them shouted.
Ben spread his hands, completely unconcerned. "First of all, I'd prefer you call me Prime," he said calmly. "And secondly…"
A deafening crash echoed from the penthouse behind him, like something massive and heavy collapsing.
Ben stepped aside, gesturing into the darkness with a theatrical flourish. A huge shadow emerged, stumbling into the light. "…your Kingpin is dead."
The shadow became clear. It was Fisk, his body a canvas of blood and deep cuts. He was being half-dragged, half-carried by Felicia. She looked at the assembled crowd, then threw the massive body to the floor like a sack of garbage.
A collective gasp rippled through the gangsters. Their pupils contracted in shared, nightmarish disbelief.
Ben stood alone, a slow, deliberate clap echoing in the sudden silence. He smiled behind his mask, his voice ringing out with the authority of a royal announcer.
"Now, please welcome your new Queen."