Transaction
Transaction
December 12th, 2:30 AM
POV - Adrian Toomes.
The first thing he did after jumping from that godforsaken building was drive around for a bit. To make sure that he's not being followed. After an hour passed, he knew the heist was successful.
"30 million dollars!" He had half of it in gold but couldn't move it before the job was done. He looked at the two gold bars and smiled. "I'll add them to my pile."
When the transaction goes through, he and his daughter won't have to worry about anything in life. He could retire, and she could go to any college she liked.
He took out his daughter's photo from his wallet.
"It's all for you, baby!"
The first thing he did was go to his home and make an extra copy of the documents, he placed the USB drive inside a drawer.
The gold bar in his industrial safe.
He was tempted to crack open a bottle, but he had business to take care of first.
Adrian Toomes went quite far from his home. Then he went to a random phone booth and dialed the number Fisk gave him.
"Hello." It wasn't Fisk, it sounded too normal for that.
"Hi, this is your Pizza Hut delivery. I have your order here. Could I get the address?"
There were a few seconds of silence before the voice replied,
"Club Pinstripe."
"Ooookay, I'll be there in 30 minutes!" He said with a fake cheery tone.
On the way there, he made sure to follow every single traffic rule known to man. He was extra careful not to overspeed or run a light. It would be shameful if he got careless at the end.
He reached there within 20 minutes due to less traffic.
Even at 3:30 AM, there was quite a line at the front. He ignored the crowd and walked up to the bouncers and announced, "Who wants some pizza?"
The people in the line looked at him funny.
"Step off, old man, before I put you down." The bouncer on the left threatened.
"Call your boss; he's ordered some food." They gave him a skeptical look.
"Ask him for yourself!"
Both of the meatheads looked at each other again and then, after a few seconds, decided it was prudent to check first. The one on the right, who seemed to have more seniority, paged his boss.
"If you're wasting our-" he started but was interrupted by the sound of his pager.
The bouncer's face looked shocked when he read the message,
"Where's the food?" He asked him,
"What are you stupid?" He lifted the bag. "It's in here, dummy."
He responded with a quick, "Right this way!"
One of the jerkoffs standing in the line complained, "We're standing here out in the cold for an hour!"
"It's a delivery dipshit; I'm not here to score a hit and get lucky with some floozy," he said to the random man with disdain.
The man grumbled something.
"This way." The bouncer announced once more.
"Yeah... yeah, I'm on my way!"
He turned to the bouncer on the left and said, "Oh and I'm not old. 'Middle aged' is the right word I think? One more thing, sonny. Talk about putting me down again and I'll skin you alive."
Despite being twice his size, the bouncer looked intimidated. He could feel it in his eyes.
Inside the club, the lights and music were crazy. Something out of a drug fueled fever dream. He couldn't hear anything either.
'God why do kids find these places fun?'
Girls with skimpy dresses, drinking like sailors, and men who looked more dead than alive.
'Their lifestyle will be the end of them all, fucking degenerate zombies.'
The bouncer led him into a room, looked like a VIP lounge.
The men near the door frisked him, making sure he wasn't carrying anything dangerous. When that was done, he was allowed entry into the luxurious room. Thankfully, it was soundproof. His eardrums hurt from all the annoying drum beats.
There was only a spectacled man sitting on a chair, he was thin but had a dangerous air about him. A part of him was actually glad he didn't have to see Fisk anymore and hoped he would never have to ever again in his life.
"May I see it?"
"Right after you pay me, buddy!"
He pushed forward two briefcases.
Adrian looked at it with suspicion and asked the man, "Hmm..Why don't you open them for me?"
The man looked at him for a brief second then opened it, revealing the cash.
He did a quick scan of the briefcase and said, "Hmm, yeah, everything looks good."
"Now the documents." The man asked with an open hand.
He handed him the bag and said, "Your files are in that."
The thin man opened the file and started skimming through it.
It took him five minutes to be satisfied with it. "So we're good?" He asked.
"Yes, we're good."
As the man was satisfied, he figured he didn't need to be there anymore. He grabbed the briefcases and started to leave,
"Mr. Toomes, if you should ever tell anyone about—"
"I'm not a fucking snitch, and even if I ever were, I wouldn't snitch on the Kingpin, for Chris sakes."
"I am glad that you understand, but it is my duty to warn you. If you were to rat on us, we know where you live and by that we also know where your daughter lives." He let the statement—no, the threat—hang in the air.
He kept his mouth shut, but his eyes radiated the fury this man had awakened.
'Calm down. Don't let this mess you up right now. Get the money and get the fuck out of this place,' he thought as his eyes looked for a blunt object to beat this man to death with.
"Understood." is all he could say at the end of the day.
The walk back to the car was a hard one, when all he wanted to do was run back inside and kill that man. The man, who threatened the only family he had.
But in the end, he chose to carry the briefcase filled with money back home.
"Good riddance."
'I'll never associate with that kind of filth ever again.'
All he had to worry about now was establishing a trust fund in his daughter's name, kicking back, and relaxing. For now, he stored it in another hidden safe he had. Should someone steal his other one, God forbid. You can't keep all your eggs in one basket, as they say.
He even turned on his home security system that he had personally created just in case.
Hey, you're not paranoid if you were holding 30 million dollars in your home in NYC.
He turned on the TV to see if anything was reported. Nothing. It was still covering that highway blockade incident.
He busted out the whiskey and poured himself a glass.
"Aaah, I love it when a plan comes together." He took a sip of his drink.
The time was 6 AM, he yawned. "Damn, I'm so goddamn tired."
He changed the channel to the history channel. A documentary about wolverines was on. He sipped his whiskey and watched it for some time before dozing off.
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December 12th, 6:30 AM
POV - Wilson Fisk
James rang him up on the phone. Vanessa moaned and complained in her sleep.
"I'm sorry, babe," he said, caressing her cheek once before accepting the phone.
He got up from his bed and simply commanded in his baritone voice,
"Speak."
"I received the goods."
"Any heat?" He asked,
"No...Surprisingly none. I thought it was fake at first, but he actually managed to pull it off."
"I see…"
"The transaction went smoothly, if I must say so myself. He's a professional despite his looks."
"Hmm...is that it?"
"Yes sir!"
"Alright then, meet me here for breakfast." His gaze turned to his love, sleeping with a happy smile.
"Pardon sir? Did you mean lunch?"
"No. I meant breakfast at my residence, Vanessa's cooking today."
"Yes sir, of course I'll be there at…9?"
"Alright."
"I'll see you there sir."
"Oh and James…Good Job." He said with dead seriousness.
"...Thank you, sir!"
He cut the call.
['You need to show more appreciation to those who work under you if you want to be well liked, Wilson!']
That's what she said to him over a candlelight dinner. He took it to heart and made sure that he let his men know how much he valued them.
He sat near her and brushed her hair softly, 'The things you make me do.'
He smiled at her snoring. She looked like a porcelain doll.
'Soon it'll be ours! Like the Kennedys, we'll build our dynasty. Soon, crime will only be a small chapter in our story.'
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