Chapter 10: Realistic Scams

Kingpin's towering building remained the most dazzling presence in Hell's Kitchen, with the surrounding impoverished environment highlighting his immense wealth. The opulent money churned endlessly, flowing through the veins of vice and crime, only to transform back into more money. Sometimes, Peter found himself curious about just how much money Kingpin actually had or where it all went.

Escorted by a secretary, he was led into a private chamber. Upon opening the door, he saw Kingpin mercilessly whipping a bound man. It didn't look like a punishment; rather, it seemed more like a release of pent-up frustration. Puffing on a cigar, Kingpin turned to Peter, slightly out of breath, tossing the whip to a subordinate and pointing at the bloodied man.

"Make sure to beat him to death!"

After saying this, he turned to face Peter, gesturing towards the man behind him. 

"This is the murderer who conspired to kill the entire family of that disabled man called the Punisher. You may not know Billy Russo, but that bastard is currently vying for territory with me. He wants to take down the Punisher to strike at my operations…"

The Punisher might not exist anymore; he had been left without hands, and in this technological age, mechanical arms had yet to be fully developed. So now, the Punisher was reduced to a disabled person. In contrast, Kingpin's mention of Billy Russo was somewhat familiar. He was one of the heads of New York's four major gangs, and the two were locked in a conflict that could only end with one of them dead.

"The old man said you have a job for me!"

"Five million. I want you to destroy every underground drug market in Texas!"

"Oh?!"

Kingpin waved his hand, signaling for something to be brought over. Hearing Kingpin's words, Peter raised his voice in mild surprise. Kingpin grinned as he walked, explaining,

"Don't look at me with such surprise; this isn't my territory anyway. The more you destroy, the happier I am because the more you destroy, the more people will come to me for supplies. Naturally, I'll be thrilled to make money!"

"Billy Russo?"

The desire for revenge was palpable. Since the Punisher had been neutralized and turned into a disabled person, Kingpin was keen to investigate the mastermind behind the scenes and make them pay in kind. Money may be captivating, but for Kingpin, it was about pride and battling over status.

"You have to understand that the Punisher destroyed two of my docks in four days. The warehouses that burned contained goods worth forty million dollars, and over a hundred of my men ended up disabled or dead. That's a significant sum in compensation, and I need to make someone pay. Just cutting off the Punisher's hands won't satisfy me; it has no real value."

Both Billy Russo and Kingpin were despicable individuals, but Peter needed the money. Since he was working with Kingpin, it made sense to resolve some of his troubles. Of course, if there came a day when he no longer needed dirty money to operate, Kingpin's life would be forfeit.

"I need you to provide me with a target!"

"Don't worry; everything is in this box. After the job is done, there's another five million as your bonus!"

Finally, one of Kingpin's subordinates brought over a black box. After handing it to Peter, Kingpin made another promise. Peter nodded; free money was free money. After taking the box, he declared,

"I'll take care of all the targets in the shortest time possible!"

***

"Hello."

For an entire week, every day at precisely five in the afternoon, Peter opened his new phone, waited two minutes, and then turned it off. Finally, today was the day.

It seemed that everything had reached a decisive conclusion. Regardless of whether the man called 'K' knew the whereabouts of Tony Stark, he and his team needed to locate him swiftly and subdue him, ensuring that he experienced firsthand the true pleasures of electric therapy in Rikers or another high-security prison.

"I need to raise funds. If I mortgage all of Tony's sports cars, I might be able to scrape together five million in no time. Please, you have to help me! I can't just watch Tony die like this!"

"If we haven't found a body, it means he's still alive. Besides, the terrorists won't easily kill Tony Stark. Phil, can you narrow down the search area?!"

Watching Pepper Potts, who looked on the verge of tears, Natasha felt exasperated. This damn K truly had no idea how much trouble he was causing. She had to resolve this issue as quickly as possible. Money was not the primary concern; it was about catching K.

"The area around Hell's Kitchen is vast; finding an Asian man there is like searching for a needle in a haystack!"

"I can definitely find him. Investigate all the assassin agencies; I need to know the exact source of K's assignments, and pull up all the surveillance footage from around Kingpin's building. We'll sift through every Asian person caught on camera!"

Following Natasha's orders, Phil grimaced but nodded. Such grueling work was the purpose of his role in logistics. As he watched Natasha persuade Pepper to leave, Phil remained alone in the living room, surrounded by a completely unfamiliar and uncomfortable layout. He sighed and shrugged.

"Alright! I'm all alone again; this is just my daily routine…"

***

"Who are you looking for?!"

"Obadiah Stane?"

"Who are you?"

In his office, Obadiah Stane was reviewing documents, thoroughly enjoying his current situation. Free from Tony Stark's oppressive shadow, he could confidently sign any agreements, such as selling energy weapons to Iraqi terrorists while simultaneously supplying countermeasures to the Iraqi government. Then he could blow up the terrorists' weapons and frame the government forces to create societal discord and internal strife.

By using money to buy a few politicians to shout about justice, he could spread negative word about the U.S. government. With the public united in outrage, the higher-ups in the government would be left powerless. The U.S. would then have to intervene in counter-terrorism, requiring vast amounts of weaponry and equipment. Money was an endless pursuit. Unfortunately, neither Howard Stark nor Tony Stark comprehended these matters.

"I know you're connected to the terrorists who kidnapped Tony Stark, and I have concrete records. If you don't want these records to become public, how about giving me five million as hush money?"

Obadiah, momentarily distracted, felt a bead of cold sweat trickle down his bald head. His face stiffened into a sinister smile as he responded.

"Money isn't a problem. Where do we meet?"