Silver Superman (Marvel)

Inside the Office

Ethan stood tall, his foot pressing down on the tattooed man's head, pinning him to the ground. Around him, the thugs who had tried to intimidate him lay groaning, their limbs twisted at unnatural angles. Even if they were rushed to the hospital now, most of them would never walk properly again.

Should've picked a different line of work, Ethan thought.

The female secretary cowered in the corner, trembling as she clutched her blouse tightly around her shoulders. Her wide eyes darted between Ethan and the bodies scattered across the room.

"You… Who the hell are you?!" the tattooed man gasped, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

"Just a novelist," Ethan replied, his voice as calm as if he were discussing the weather.

"Now, you're going to answer my questions. Speak clearly, and I might let you walk out of here. Lie to me… and you'll regret it."

Fear flashed across the man's eyes as he glanced toward one of his remaining conscious subordinates. His mind raced for an escape—

CRACK!

Ethan pressed down harder with his foot, the unmistakable sound of bone fracturing echoed through the room.

"AHHH! I'll talk! I'll talk!" the tattooed man screamed.

"Good. Who's the 'board of directors' you mentioned earlier?"

The man's face contorted in fear.

Damn it… I had to open my mouth about the board. I'm screwed either way now!

"Answer me," Ethan said, applying just a bit more pressure.

"Okay! Okay! It's… It's Wilson Fisk!"

Ethan's eyes narrowed.

Wilson Fisk… also known as Kingpin.

The man swallowed hard and kept talking, desperate to stay alive.

"He runs everything—this company, the gangs, the drug trade… all of it. He ordered me to get you to sign over your copyrights."

"So Fisk sees my novels as a future goldmine, huh?" Ethan mused aloud.

"Yes! Yes! That's all I know, I swear!"

"Where can I find Fisk?"

"I don't know!" The man's eyes bulged with panic. "I swear, I don't know! He doesn't tell us where he is—only his inner circle knows that!"

Ethan studied the man's face, searching for any sign of deception. Finding none, he sighed.

Figures. Fisk wouldn't be that careless.

"Give me his number."

The tattooed man fumbled for the phone in his pocket, nearly dropping it as he handed it over.

"Call him," Ethan ordered.

The man hesitated, then quickly dialed the number. The line clicked after two rings.

"Is it done?" A deep, gravelly voice asked.

"Yeah, it's done… except I did a number on your men instead," Ethan replied smoothly.

The pause on the other end was long, heavy with unspoken tension.

"…Mr. Ethan," Fisk said at last. "It seems I underestimated you."

"Where are you?" Ethan asked bluntly.

"Now, now… Let's not be hasty. I'm a businessman, not a brute. What happened today was a misunderstanding. No need for things to escalate any further."

"Misunderstanding?" Ethan scoffed. "Your men tried to strong-arm me into selling my work for ten bucks. That's not business—that's theft."

"Come now, Mr. Ethan. Surely you understand the value of mutually beneficial relationships. There's an old saying from the East—'Many friends, many roads.' Why not let bygones be bygones?"

"Pass," Ethan replied flatly.

Fisk's tone hardened.

"Watch your step, Mr. Ethan. I've dealt with mutants, supers, and so-called heroes before. None of them have been able to stop me. Come looking for me, and you'll regret it."

"Funny," Ethan said, his voice edged with amusement.

"I was about to say the same thing."

The line went dead.

"Boss? Boss?!" the tattooed man called into the phone. Only an automated message replied—This number is no longer in service.

Ethan tilted his head slightly, a half-smile tugging at his lips.

So much for the big bad Kingpin.

He stepped back, removing his foot from the tattooed man's head. The man collapsed in a heap, gasping for breath.

"I told you everything… Please, just let me go!" he begged.

Ethan glanced at him and said nothing.

Then he kicked the man hard enough to knock him out cold.

The room fell into silence, save for the faint hum of the overhead lights.

From the corner, the secretary's trembling voice broke the silence:

"P-Please… Don't hurt me…"

Ethan turned toward her and offered a reassuring smile.

"Relax. I'm not here to hurt you. Call an ambulance for these guys—and maybe the police while you're at it."

With that, Ethan stepped over the unconscious thugs and walked out of the office.

Outside the Building

The Lamborghini's engine roared to life as Ethan slid into the driver's seat.

As he pulled onto the street, his fingers drummed against the steering wheel thoughtfully.

Wilson Fisk…

The Kingpin of Crime wasn't going to let this slight go unanswered. But Ethan wasn't worried.

If Fisk wants a fight… He'll get one.

Thank you for choosing this novel

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