『FiskTowers』

The Kingpin sat in his chair, overlooking New York City from his personal penthouse sized office near the top floor of Fisk Tower. His blue eyes glared at the specs of light below that lined the horizons. His hands were clasped together, his fingers drumming between one another, and his elbows were on his desk.

A bald egg shaped head, bulky body, dressed in a purple and black suit. Fisk Wilson was dressed to please.

"Jack Baker..." He uttered under his breath, "Has become a liability." His eyes drifted to the phone at the corner of his desk. The office phone on his desk, had a blinking light, the speaker active. Glaring at the object with a fierce expression. "And a threat."

"Is that so..." A quiet androgynous set of voices emitted from the phone's speaker base. "What is the basis of this declaration? This Assassin is not a disposable asset."

Fisk paused hearing the voice question him and leaned back in the chair, his hands along with his forearms resting on the desktop. "Your DOG, has threatened to eliminate my family should I remove a simple nuisance which will cause problems for our... Day to day operations... You want me to do nothing? EXPECT me to do nothing?"

There was a short pause from the phone, before the sound of someone clearing their throat came along followed by a single word, "Elaborate."

Fisk's eye twitched in annoyance, "I gave him a choice. One that I could've easily made in his position. Remove Captain George Stacy of the New York Police, or to deter further interference by taking out his daughter."

Silence came once more from the phone.

"Describe his relationship with the Stacy family."

Fisk blinked when he was asked this question, he didn't know what kind of relationship Jack had with the Stacys. Though if he was willing to threaten him over a proposed contract, he was sure the assassin held them in high regard.

Tapping the desk in front of him with his fingers as he unclasped his hands, he leaned back in his black leather chair. His eyes resting on the four thick pillars and the various suits of Japanese Samurai armor which lined the room in standing imported display cases and reflected upon the large glass windows.

The building followed a somewhat minimalistic architecture. Very few walls in the high level office areas, making most rooms the size of open studios.

Thanks to the work of his wife, the entire building was lined with artwork, like sculptures and paintings, even historic relics such as the armor in the display cases.

Grunting in displeasure, he looked to the phone once more as if it was an ant he could easily squash beneath his large hands. "Friendly, I presume."

"Elabor--"

"The daughter seems to be smitten with him..." Fisk spat out, he had been watching Jack through the use of his goons due to his prowess as an Assassin. The last thing he needed was the young man to be sent after him by someone he had wronged in the past.

A forewarning always worked well, for the most part.

He had people watch them go to school, he had them watch them hang out. Even when George asked him over for dinner oh so many times, Fisk knew.

Yet he couldn't really decipher their relationship. Jack of all people hardly reacted, just went along with whatever they wanted. He had the facade of an agreeable individual, who ultimately got what he wanted by manipulating others into his hand.

Scratching his chin, he wasn't quite sure what was going to happen now.

If he didn't send someone out to take care of the Captain, he was sure there would be plenty of problems they'd run into! A deep frown on his face, he nudged the phone charger with his thick index finger.

"Killing the Captain, or his daughter, would be unwise at this time. We advise you cease all contentious activities and continue normal operations." This voice didn't sound real, but it wasn't fake either. Perhaps it was a machine speaking?

Frisk furrowed his brow as he stood up from behind his desk. "You want me to do nothing?"

"Until the investigation is over and your name is cleared, we recommend no action be taken." The androgynous voice on the other side of the phone began to sound a little aggressive in delivery. "Think of your family."

Fisk stood there, staring at the phone in disbelief. His primary partner and contact was also threatening him in a subtle reminder to think of his family.

They weren't going to do anything against their prized pet!

"DO...NOT...UNDERESTIMATE MY WORTH." Fisk boldly uttered threateningly as he shoved the desk forward before walking around it. The soles of his dress shoes clacking on the waxed hard tiled floor. "I am going to rebuild this City, this State, this Country... From the bitter ugly shadows. I can and I will hurt those who stand in the way!"

This man was dense, if anything came at him offensively, he fought fire with fire.Threaten him, even just a little, he'll do the same right back. He was like a rabid pit bull...

"On the contrary Mister Fisk," the voice began, "We may have overestimated your worth."

Turning to look to the phone, the transmission was suddenly cut off. Silence again taking the penthouse for the last time except for the metaphorical steaming kettle that was Fisk's reddened face!

"..." The shady businessman deflated as he stood there with his arms folded behind his back. He glared at that phone as if it was going to ring again and he was going to smash it.

Yet no such thing happened. It didn't ring and he didn't smash it as intended. The big man then made his way over to the window and stared out over the New York City streets below.

He could just make out the parked navy blue vehicle sitting outside some ways from the loading port of the building. "George Stacy..." He grumbled as his eyes darted towards the roof tops, not seeing even a glimmer of the Recluse Assassin.

Though it was unlikely he'd spot the assassin, he had very little information on how he used his tactics. There were times where he'd come close and kill his prey, while most of the time he would kill them from a distance. He, in all of these scenarios and instances, was usually never actually seen. The reason being that his suit or Jack himself being able to turn invisible, bend light and sound around himself.

Letting out a huff of air, he took a step back from the window and turned to look towards the door of his office penthouse.

A curvaceous bodied woman dressed in a sparkly deep purple dress that cut off right above the knees, came walking into the room. Her skin was like heavenly porcelain china, her eyes were large scrumptious brownies and her lips were a matte red like roses. She was a brunette, she wore the expensive lifestyle like she owned it.

This was none other than Vanessa Marianna-Fisk, his wife.

The steaming kettle that was his head, immediately boiled down to a simmer and the red of his face began to disperse. "Vanessa!" He made a coy grin, his large form rushing on over to her.

With a confident smirk on her own lips seeing the man of her life, she placed a hand on her hip and shifted her weight. "Now there's my work of art," she spoke with a down to earth tone.

As he was standing before her, he placed his left hand against her cheek, caressing it. "And here's my dealer," he quipped as she was an Art Dealer with the Scene Contempo Gallery before pairing with him.

"How's my big brute? I saw your face was red," She reached up from her five foot, eight inch, tall frame and rested her forearms up alone on his chest, her hands on his shoulders.

Her legs shifted behind her, the instep of her foot resting behind her knee as she leaned into him.

"Hm. A minor disagreement in policy is all," he lightly tucked a finger under her chin and a thumb to caress her cheek. "All will be well soon..."

"Ooooh," Vanessa was well aware of his dangerous dealings in the underworld of New York City, if anything that is what allured her to him the most. It made him different and he was honest with her, no matter what.

Her hand took in his tie, stroking down it slowly, her thumb pushing into the shiny fabric. "It wouldn't have to be something to do with the police outside... I sure do not want to find myself thrown into another prison, our boy will be taken from us." She narrowed her eyes on her husband. "That cannot happen."

Though her body language was seductive, her words were as sharp as a viper's fang, and just as venomous.

Unphased by her words, Fisk only grinned wider than before, the coy feeling completely lifted from his being. "I will do everything in my power in order to make sure that never happens..."

The door opened again, both of their sights would shift to a man with short curly white balding hair wearing a blue suit, white shirt, black tie and round glasses.

"Oswald," The two raised opposing brows at his arrival, "Is everything going to be Arranged?"

"Accordingly sir," The man shined his circular frames on his sleeve, before placing the glasses back on his face, pressing them to the bridge of his nose. "After seeing the reply, I was able to make the appropriate arrangements to secure the control of both the Recluse Assassin and Police Captain George Stacy."

The corner of Vanessa's lips tugged into a wide smile, "Well done Arranger! No wonder my husband holds you in such high regard."

Nodding in a stern manner towards the woman, the older male would look to Fisk. Oswald Silkworth was the Kingpin's number one trustee other than his wife. He was used to arrange and manage day to day activities under Fisk be it in the legal world or the shadows.