"Wilson Fisk, Kingpin, we finally meet. Ever since you stole my things, I've been wanting to have a meeting with you."
Harry sat with his legs crossed, watching Kingpin, who was sitting opposite him, and tapped the table.
"Mr. Harry, I was born in Hells Kitchen. When I was young, my father died on the streets just to keep his position as a small-time gang leader."
"That's ridiculous, you know? While our Military was fighting bloody battles overseas, you small-time thugs were busy tearing each other apart." Harry didn't give him any face and choked the fat man with that remark.
Harry understood perfectly what this guy wanted to say: nothing more than sophistry like "You don't understand Hells Kitchen," "You're too green," or "We are the same kind of people." The funny thing was that this fat man often told superheroes "we are the same kind of people," and then followed up with "you don't understand." By that logic, didn't that mean he didn't understand himself either?
Of course, what Harry said wasn't particularly profound, but in the universal view, the battlefield was certainly on a much higher level than street brawls. He just wanted to disgust this guy.
"But you haven't experienced the battlefield, whereas I have experienced gang warfare." Kingpin stared straight at Harry, his tone turning cold.
"Come on, Kingpin, do you think I'm you? I have connections, I have resources. I was born lying in an Osborn private hospital, while you were lying in a sewer. You surely don't expect me to wallow in the mud like you, do you?"
Harry used the most acerbic tone to mock Kingpin, wanting to make him fly into a rage—and he succeeded. Kingpin was an ambitious man, and therefore he always harbored ill intent toward those who stood above him.
He wanted to be the one at the very top.
So, he climbed all the way from being a street thug to the pinnacle of New York gangs.
But he discovered: this seemed to be the end.
"Mr. Fisk, do you know? Although we are from almost two different Worlds, although I am stronger than you, and although we are enemies, that doesn't mean I don't have a shred of admiration for your methods and perseverance."
Harry stood up and walked over to Kingpin.
"But these things can't change anything. You understand this logic, right? Think about your wife and daughter—how did they die?"
Bang!
Kingpin was furious, his thick arm grabbing at Harry like a cannonball, but Harry's hand was as rigid and powerful as some kind of hydraulic clamp, firmly controlling his hand.
Who was the villain? If anyone saw this scene, they would surely exclaim how absurd it was.
After a stalemate for a while, Harry let go of Kingpin's hand.
"Harry Osborn, we both know you have a masked friend. Do you think he would just leave as if nothing happened after blowing up this city?"
"Come on, Kingpin, we both know it was you who blew up this city." Harry guessed what he wanted to do next and endured the urge to laugh, playing along with him.
"This city doesn't think so."
Kingpin turned on the TV, which was reporting on the series of explosions in Hells Kitchen. The news station seemed to be intentionally leading the blame toward daredevil. In fact, since Harry started his move, this wasn't the first time they had done so.
Harry shrugged, signaling for Kingpin to keep watching.
"Regarding this explosion, no one, no media outlet should speculate wildly before the investigation results are out! There is evidence indicating this was a desperate terrorist act by New York gangs; this is a provocation against the NYPD!" It was George.
In fact, Harry hadn't instructed this Police chief to do anything, but this chief was a very serious and upright man, and he had always disliked media that speculated wildly.
"Do you think you've won? Harry Osborn, do you think you can protect the witnesses just by placing them in a safe zone you designated?" Kingpin clenched his fists, his eyes seemingly spitting Fire.
"In fact, I can indeed protect them." Harry spread his hands.
Kingpin sneered and continued playing today's news.
Unfortunately, the scene Kingpin had anticipated didn't appear, and the news currently playing left him speechless.
"Military suddenly breaks into temporary witness protection zone; situation in Hells Kitchen escalates?"
"Today, multiple neighborhoods in Hells Kitchen were hit by explosions. At the same time, a Military unit quietly entered the temporary witness protection zone. According to them, this was to protect the collaborative project between the Osborn Group and the Military in this area."
"Strangely, it seems some Police on the scene have been controlled by them."
Harry tapped the table, reminding Kingpin to snap out of it.
"Big explosions, terrorist attacks, then using thunderous methods to kill those people and continue your reign of terror—this move is very effective. At least the fence-sitters who intended to contact me have quieted down. But when they discover your actions have no impact on me at all, what will they do?"
"Look, your methods are always the same few tricks: kidnapping, murder, bribery. You say we are the same, but you are nothing more than a bully who crawled out of a sewer, using violence and lies to manipulate this place. We are not the same."
Harry smiled and looked out the window.
"You will never understand why guys like the masked man keep a tight grip on you, and then mentally label them as hypocritical and tell yourself that you are the same kind of person."
Upon hearing this, Kingpin laughed in extreme anger: "So what? You aren't going to preach some grand principles about justice to me, are you?"
"Of course not. Have you played Pipe Mania? It's a type of video game." Harry said.
A classic little game with a long history about connecting pipes of various shapes into a complete pipeline system. Fisk hadn't played it, but he knew of the game.
"If we compare what we are doing to connecting pipes, you are like a strong man with immense power who can bend the pipes into the shapes you want, and then connect them all together."
"But there will always be a few stubborn pieces that you can never turn into the shape you want. When the game time runs out—"
"Bang! Game over."
After speaking, Harry walked straight toward the door, but suddenly, sirens blared inside the building, and the steel blast door slowly descended.
"Hmph, you don't think you're getting out of here today, do you?" Kingpin took off his custom suit and walked toward Harry step by step.
"Old-school methods? You see, this is why I said we are simply not on the same level."
Harry shook his head helplessly, and then, under Kingpin's gaze, his hands slammed into the heavy blast door!
That incredibly heavy blast door was forcibly stopped in its descent by Harry. The transmission mechanism creaked, and the sound of gears shattering even came from within the walls—
Click!
In the end, the blast door was forcibly lifted back up and jammed tightly in mid-air, making it impossible for it to block Harry from leaving anymore.
As for Kingpin, he roared in unwillingness and lunged at Harry, but Harry just kicked backward.
Harry's speed far exceeded Kingpin's imagination. He hurriedly used his arms to block, but could only be kicked away like a ball, his arms broken.
In fact, if they were to fight properly, even if Kingpin lost, he shouldn't have been this pathetic. But he had lost his sanity. In a straightforward confrontation, he was just a human; having abandoned his fighting techniques, he didn't have a shred of a chance of winning.
Harry left the "colosseum" prepared by Kingpin without looking back. Kingpin didn't chase after him either; instead, he crawled back to his chair and lit a cigar in loneliness.
He understood that this time he was truly finished, just like his father—he had provoked an opponent he couldn't handle and had reached the end.