Marvel’s Shadowed Knight

"So, after bidding farewell to our friendly neighborhood hero from New York, we now welcome a messenger of the night, clad in pure black?"

Seated in his chair, Fisk posed the question to Tombstone, his gaze never wavering from the framed photograph on the coffee table.

The picture captured a warm and gentle woman alongside a well-behaved, sensible child.

These were the two most important people in Fisk's life.

And yet, he had pushed them away with his own hands.

Now, his only priority was bringing them back to his side.

Everything else could wait.

Even the emergence of another superhero—one seemingly similar to Spider-Man—was of no concern to him, as long as they did not interfere with his plans.

Still, he needed to determine whether this new hero would become an obstacle in reuniting with his loved ones.

"Yes, boss. But from what we've seen so far, this guy is far more ruthless than Spider-Man. Anyone who's crossed paths with him has been left permanently disabled," Tombstone reported, summarizing all the available information.

True, none of the victims had lost their lives at the hands of this masked figure.

But being turned into a vegetable or left crippled for life—was that truly any better than death?

"Leave him be for now. What matters to me most isn't dealing with some minor factory, nor is it worrying about those who have been left handicapped."

Fisk picked up the framed photo before him, his expression soft as he gently traced the glass with his fingers.

It was difficult to reconcile this gentle demeanor with the cold, ruthless words he had just spoken.

Yet, Tombstone was much the same as Fisk—he, too, cared nothing for the lives or well-being of those affected. The only things that mattered were their business and themselves.

Nothing else would sway them.

"I understand, boss," Tombstone nodded at Fisk.

He now knew exactly how to handle the situation.

Perhaps he couldn't capture the so-called Night Sentinel, but he could certainly ignore the damage and financial losses the vigilante inflicted on them.

For Tombstone, such matters were trivial.

Noticing Fisk's lingering glance in his direction, Tombstone wisely took the cue and bowed slightly.

"I'll be on my way."

With that, he turned and left the house, stepping away from this space filled with Fisk's cherished memories of his family.

Fisk paid him no further attention. His focus returned to the framed photo of Vanessa and their son.

"Vanessa, Richard… I will bring you both back."

It was hard to believe that a man who ruled the underworld with an iron grip could now wear such an expression—one of deep longing and sentimentality.

Wayne arrived at Fisk's residence just in time to witness this scene.

But he had no sympathy for Fisk's so-called love for his wife and child.

A man who had directly or indirectly shattered countless families, now longing to reclaim his own? Life didn't work that way.

Pressing a control on the gauntlet of his right arm, Wayne's vision shifted.

The house before him was no longer an ordinary residence in his eyes.

He could now see every reinforced and specially modified section of the building.

Though this home held great sentimental value for Fisk, that hadn't stopped him from ensuring his defenses remained intact.

Sure enough, Wayne quickly located a concealed elevator leading to the lowest level of the house.

He knew that whatever was hidden there wouldn't be harmless Fisk Industries documents. More likely, it held secrets tied to Fisk's vast criminal empire.

And that was exactly what Wayne was after.

"Not a bad hiding spot," he murmured.

Wayne cast one last glance at the grieving Fisk but did not move in immediately.

He needed a flawless plan—one that would allow him to secure every last piece of evidence tied to Fisk's empire.

Wayne mapped out the entire structure of Fisk's residence in his mind before choosing to retreat.

Obtaining Fisk's address and the layout of his house today was more than enough.

Sometimes, a bat doesn't have to move only at night—daylight works just as well.

With a flicker of his silhouette, Wayne vanished from the scene.

Tomorrow, during the day—that was when he would make his move.

As he passed by an apartment building in Brooklyn, Wayne came to a halt.

There are moments when the last person you want to see appears in the most unexpected ways.

Like now.

The scene before him looked exactly like a crime scene.

And the victim? None other than the ever-chatty Spider-Man, the one who had been buzzing around him nonstop before.

Dragging Spider-Man was a kid, wearing a cheap knockoff Spider-Man costume.

"Bang!"

A sudden noise from the fire escape startled the child.

His grip on Spider-Man loosened instinctively, and he threw his hands up in alarm.

Poor Peter Benjamin Parker—once the kid let go, he plummeted straight down from the fire escape.

If he weren't Spider-Man, he'd already have a one-way ticket to the ICU in a luxury hospital suite.

"I didn't kill him! And he's not dead—he just passed out! I was only trying to take him home to check his injuries, I swear! No other intentions at all!"

The kid hurriedly blurted out an explanation.

Maybe it was just Wayne's perception, but the way the boy spoke rapidly almost made it sound like he was rapping.

"Mm-hmm."

Wayne didn't say much, just let out a vague, unreadable hum.

But that alone was enough to leave the kid flustered.

"Mm-hmm?"

He hesitantly repeated Wayne's sound, hoping this masked, clearly-not-easygoing, possibly-superhero guy would clarify what it meant.

"I swear I'm telling the truth! You gotta believe me!"

The kid was genuinely spooked by Wayne's expression.

He had been bitten by a spider, gained weird powers, witnessed Spider-Man fighting Green Goblin…

He had even seen how Spider-Man died.

But at the end of the day, he was still just a kid.

And standing in front of a superhero he couldn't even begin to understand? That was nerve-wracking.

Especially when this superhero didn't seem like the friendly, easygoing type.

"Heh heh…"

The kid resorted to his best innocent act, trying to look as harmless as possible.

"Oh, my back!"

Spider-Man's groan abruptly shattered the tense atmosphere.

(End of Chapter)

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