"I honestly have no idea," Noah said, spreading his hands.
George Stacy studied him carefully, clearly unconvinced.
"And Gwen?" George asked. "Where is she?"
"She's safe," Noah replied without hesitation. "I sent her home ahead of time."
George held his gaze for a moment, then nodded slightly.
Noah leaned in a bit, lowering his voice. "So what happens now? You take me in for questioning? I mean… a few thousand people just died."
He glanced around.
The street was a disaster—blood everywhere, bodies scattered, buildings damaged. Even if the official story called them "mutant victims," the destruction was real.
That kind of repair bill wouldn't be small.
George shook his head.
"No need. You're free to go. We'll call you in if necessary."
Noah blinked, a little surprised.
That was… easier than expected.
But George wasn't finished.
"There will likely be a fine for property damage," he added. "On the other hand, you'll also receive a commendation—and a reward for assisting civilians."
Noah paused.
So I still have to pay?
That hit harder than the fight.
"Perhaps I could take care of those expenses."
The voice came from behind them.
Deep. Measured.
George's expression changed immediately.
Noah turned.
A massive man approached, easily over six and a half feet tall, his white suit stretched over a frame that looked more like reinforced steel than flesh. A cane tapped lightly against the ground as he walked.
Wilson Fisk.
Noah recognized him instantly.
Kingpin.
The man who controlled the city's underworld from the shadows.
And one of the most dangerous people in New York.
"This is Mr. Fisk," George said stiffly. "A… philanthropist. And a candidate in the upcoming mayoral election."
Noah caught the tone.
George wasn't a fan.
Noah smiled and stepped forward anyway.
"Mr. Fisk," he said, offering his hand. "You're offering to cover the damages?"
George stared at him.
Seriously?
Fisk shook Noah's hand, his grip firm but controlled.
"Of course," he said smoothly. "A man who protects the city shouldn't have to worry about the cost of doing so."
His presence was overwhelming—but his tone was warm, almost generous.
"To contribute a little in return is only fair."
Noah nodded appreciatively.
"That's incredibly generous," he said. "If more people thought like you, this city would be a much better place."
The two of them exchanged polite smiles.
Behind them, cameras were still rolling.
Tomorrow's headlines practically wrote themselves.
"I've always admired people like you," Fisk continued. "If you have the time, I'd like to invite you to dinner. We could talk."
Noah didn't even hesitate.
"I'm free right now," he said. "Shall we?"
George's eye twitched.
Before the commissioner could react, the two were already moving toward Fisk's car, their conversation flowing easily—as if they'd known each other for years.
"Wait," George called out.
They both turned.
For a moment, Fisk's eyes flickered—cold beneath the smile.
George felt it.
Then he exhaled.
"…Be careful," he said finally.
Noah grinned.
"Don't worry. I'll be fine."
Then, almost as an afterthought, he added—
"I'll swing by your place in a few days to see Gwen."
George froze.
That somehow made it worse.
Fisk, however, seemed pleased.
Connections mattered.
And Noah just made himself more interesting.
The car pulled away.
George watched it go, then rubbed his forehead.
"Clean this up," he muttered to his officers.
A few blocks away, the car stopped briefly.
Noah stepped out, grabbed Camilla—who had been waiting nearby—and brought her into the vehicle.
Then they continued on.
Inside the car, the atmosphere shifted.
Noah leaned back, the earlier friendliness fading from his expression.
He glanced sideways at Fisk.
"So," he said calmly, "what do you actually want from me?"
Fisk rested both hands on his cane.
"I believe Commissioner Stacy mentioned it," he said. "I'm considering a run for mayor."
Noah nodded slowly.
He understood immediately.
Public support.
A visible endorsement.
The same kind of leverage others had already tried to use.
"Got it," Noah said.
Then, without missing a beat—
"Show me fifty million first."
The words hung in the air.
For a moment, even Fisk's composure faltered.
"…Fifty million?" he repeated.
Noah met his gaze, completely serious.
"If you're willing to invest that much," he said, "I'll make sure you win."
Silence filled the car.
For the first time—
Kingpin didn't have an immediate answer.