Chapter 42: A Late-Night Visit to Kingpin

A senior executive was about to elaborate on the situation in Europe.

Bruce waved his hand dismissively. "I know about the city's problems—we can't solve them. I'm just reminding you all to be upfront about everything."

The executives remained silent.

They now understood that while Bruce might seem indifferent, he actually had a clearer grasp of the company's situation than any of them.

"How's the situation in Brooklyn?" Bruce shifted the topic, directing his question to the head of the recently established foundation.

"Since this was caused by Mr. Fisk, the New York government is holding us fully accountable," the foundation's head replied, feeling a headache coming on just thinking about it.

The collider explosion had caused immense damage to Brooklyn.

Several subway lines had been affected.

If the New York government truly pinned all the responsibility on them, it would mean an astronomical financial burden.

"Says who?" Bruce frowned. As far as he remembered, Kingpin had more than enough wealth to fund Brooklyn's reconstruction.

After all, from any perspective, this disaster was entirely of Kingpin's own making.

It had nothing to do with the company.

"The mayor of New York called personally," the foundation's head explained, still baffled by the situation.

Under normal circumstances, a city council member getting involved would have already been significant.

But now, even the mayor himself had stepped in, which was quite unexpected.

Bruce had a rough idea of what was going on. The upper echelons of New York City were in a state of panic.

Wilson Fisk was in prison, but the evidence of their corruption that he held had yet to be found.

This left them in a dilemma—wanting to eliminate Fisk while fearing that his death would expose all their dirty secrets.

At the moment, their only move was to pin the blame on the Kane Corporation.

"I'll take care of this," Bruce said. "But make sure that every victim in Brooklyn gets the help they need."

He stood up.

"Meeting adjourned."

With that, Bruce turned to leave.

As he pushed open the door, a secretary was already waiting for him.

"Sir, a police officer has something to tell you." The secretary handed him the phone.

"Hello," Bruce greeted calmly as he took the call.

"Mr. Kane, I sincerely apologize, but your car—"

The officer barely began explaining before Bruce cut him off.

"I know. My car got wrecked. That's Spider-Man's problem, not yours."

"Uh—" The officer was momentarily speechless.

"Anything else?"

The officer on the other end was completely thrown off by Bruce's reaction.

Click.

Bruce hung up.

"Buy another one," he said to the secretary as he handed back the phone, then headed upstairs.

"Yes, Mr. Kane."

The secretary watched Bruce disappear from view.

Behind her glasses, her eyes gleamed with quiet scrutiny.

Back in his office, Bruce simply sat in his chair, closing his eyes in thought.

Some matters required the intervention of the Bat.

Nightfall draped New York in darkness.

Clinton Prison, known for housing high-security inmates, was always heavily guarded.

Even so, there had been times when prisoners managed to escape.

That particular incident had forced Clinton Prison to further tighten its security, making it the most impenetrable prison in all of New York City.

However, tonight, the facility was destined to face another unexpected event.

But this time, it wasn't about someone breaking out.

It was about someone breaking in.

"Lights Out!!"

The prison guard's voice echoed through the corridors, and the once-bright prison instantly dimmed into darkness.

It was as if everything had been dragged up from the depths of hell.

Yet, on the far side of the prison, one cell remained unaffected. The lights inside remained bright.

Inside that cell, contraband items—strictly forbidden by the prison—were openly displayed.

But no one dared to say a word about it.

Not even the guards.

The man in that cell was none other than Wilson Fisk.

The former king of New York's underworld.

Even in prison, Kingpin maintained his imposing aura. He still carried himself like a man above all others.

And by his side stood his loyal bodyguard.

Tombstone, still protecting his boss.

Suddenly, the lights overhead flickered.

Kingpin looked up at them and smiled.

At some point, the cell door had silently swung open.

A shadowy figure slipped inside like a ghost.

Tombstone reacted on instinct, moving to attack—

But the Bat was faster.

A powerful punch crashed into his barely healed nose, sending fresh blood streaming down.

The Bat wasn't done. Gripping Tombstone's head, he slammed it against the cell wall.

"It looks like our Bat is angry," Kingpin remarked, completely unfazed by his bodyguard's predicament.

"Let me guess—you're here because of Brooklyn." His tone was calm, almost amused.

"Those government lackeys must be giving you a hard time," Kingpin said with confidence.

"They mean nothing to me," the Bat replied, shaking his head. "I'm only here to tell you one thing—you're going to rot in this prison until the day you die."

He stepped closer.

Kingpin stood up, his towering two-meter frame still allowing him to look down at the Bat.

But there was a slight limp in his step.

Clearly, the Bat's earlier kick to his knee had left a lasting mark.

"And what exactly can you do? I'll walk out of here sooner or later," Kingpin sneered.

The Bat merely shook his head again.

"Tomorrow morning, every government official connected to you will face impeachment. Some of them might even end up as your new neighbors."

He leaned in closer.

"Your underground empire has only a few days left."

In an instant, Kingpin lunged, arms outstretched, aiming to grab the Bat.

But his hands closed around nothing but air.

The Bat was already gone.

The cell door swung shut behind him.

"New York will never be yours," Kingpin bellowed after him.

But the Bat had already vanished into the night.

(End of Chapter)

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