Wilson Fisk was convinced: the man in front of him had to be insane.
The kingpin of New York's underworld, a man who'd left bodies in his wake without blinking, was now, inexplicably, feeling... powerless.
Waving Rory off, Fisk growled, "Leave. I don't want to dirty my hands killing a lunatic."
Rory scratched his head. "You just called a scientist mentally challenged? That's rich. My brain alone outweighs yours by at least five pounds. Wanna test that theory?"
Fisk shook his head. "I don't believe you. Because no sane man talks about pulling his brain out of his skull."
"Goddamn it! F**k you, you bald-headed thug!"
Even as Rory hurled curses, Fisk didn't lose his temper. He simply reached forward, intending to grab Rory and toss him out.
And that's when everything changed.
His hand froze in midair. His face shifted, from surprise to shock, from disbelief to sheer confusion.
Thud.
The behemoth that was Wilson Fisk dropped to his knees.
"You… you, "
He tried to seize Rory again, but Rory moved faster, his hand snapped around Fisk's thick wrist and held it effortlessly.
This was no ordinary man. Fisk's muscle density exceeded 90%; his body was a weapon, honed to the absolute limit of human capability. And yet, he couldn't even move.
Rory looked… normal.
Unassuming.
But the strength in his grip was terrifying.
With one hand, Rory grabbed Fisk by the collar and stood up, lifting him clean off the ground as if he were made of feathers.
"Listen up. I'm a biologist. You know what 'biology' means? Humans are biological organisms. You? You're nothing more than a baby chick in my eyes. So, take my advice: don't test me."
Fisk nodded reflexively, like a student being scolded.
Rory patted his shiny bald head. Couldn't help himself, he rubbed it, too. "Smooth. Real smooth."
"Glad we understand each other. Now… where were we?"
Fisk massaged his wrist, grimacing, then asked, "So what, you're offering to be my bodyguard now?"
"Bodyguard?" Rory scoffed. "Dream on. I'll be in the lab most of the time, I don't have time to follow you around like a babysitter. What I am saying is this: if you're ever in serious danger, and you reach out to me, I'll handle it. That's the deal."
Fisk opened his mouth to speak, but Rory raised a finger. "Oh, and not just any kind of trouble. If you're planning to start a war, take on the government, or do anything that puts my identity at risk, don't count on me. In fact, I might take you out first if it comes to that."
Fisk understood.
Rory wouldn't help him deal with rivals or take on government forces. His protection was personal, and conditional. From the outside, it sounded like buying himself a very expensive, very unpredictable guardian angel.
But to Fisk?
Rory was a living talisman. A trump card against death.
Still, what intrigued him more than Rory's offer… was Rory himself.
After a moment of silence, Fisk asked, "I'll fund your lab. Equipment, staff, everything. No questions asked. But… tell me, can I become like you?"
"You mean, strong like me?"
Rory considered it, then nodded. "Not right now. But once the lab's up and running, maybe. Give me some time."
"Deal." Fisk didn't hesitate.
Rory smiled, satisfied, and held out his hand. "Pleasure doing business."
Fisk hesitated, staring at Rory's hand like it might bite. Then, slowly, he shook it.
Once the handshake was done, Rory added, "Use your name or someone else's, I don't care. Find a suitable location. I'll give you a list of supplies. Stick to it exactly, no substitutions."
"How do I contact you in the meantime?"
Rory glanced around. Truth was, he had nowhere else to go. "This place isn't bad. I'll stay here until everything's settled. Get me some clothes, toiletries, and a burner phone. Registered under someone else's name."
Without waiting for an answer, Rory wandered off to pick out a spare bedroom.
Fisk stood there, lips twitching in frustration.
Still, he pulled out his phone and called the only man he trusted without question, Wesley.
Less than thirty minutes later, Wesley returned with everything Rory needed.
"Mr. Fisk, are you all right?"
Fisk didn't let him into the apartment. He took the bags at the door.
Wesley raised an eyebrow, his boss never acted like this.
Fisk paused, then shook his head. "I'm fine. Head home and get some rest. I've got a big assignment for you tomorrow."
"Understood. Goodnight, sir."
Wesley never questioned orders. Calm, discreet, efficient, Fisk trusted him implicitly.
Fisk closed the door, carried the bags to the living room, and set them down just as Rory emerged from the guest room, holding a freshly written checklist.
"This list has everything I need. Model numbers, specs, quantities, don't screw it up."
He handed the list to Fisk, then picked up the new phone, booted it up, and started unpacking his things.
When he came back out, he was already changed into a brand-new house robe.
Walking over to the liquor cabinet, he grabbed a bottle he didn't recognize, poured himself a full glass, and downed half in one gulp.
Then, he turned to Fisk and asked, "So, where are you planning to set up my lab?"
Fisk thought for a moment. "Well, this is my first time investing in… cutting-edge science. How about somewhere near Wall Street?"
Rory gave him a look that could curdle milk.
"I suggest you call the police," he said flatly. "Because someone's stolen your damn brain."
Fisk wasn't stupid. He just hadn't fully grasped why secrecy mattered.
He had been hoping to use the lab project for PR, rebranding himself in the media as a man of vision, a philanthropist.
He hadn't considered that Rory wanted the exact opposite: to disappear.
Rory sighed, shaking his head. "Honestly, I don't know how you made it this far. Did you muscle your way to the top just by cracking skulls and flexing in the mirror?"
Fisk's fists clenched. He was furious, and deeply insulted.
But he also remembered the raw power Rory wielded… and the chance, however slim, that he could have that power himself someday.
So, he swallowed his pride.
Rory poured another drink, voice suddenly cold. "Super soldiers like Captain America? Government projects. Military-funded, full surveillance. You think I want a battalion of grunts storming my lab one day and stealing everything I've built?"
The image of Steve Rogers flashed through Rory's mind, he was done with that headache.
Finally, he added with a wry smile:
"No. This time, I'm staying one step ahead."
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