Inside the sleek black sedan, Wilson Fisk—better known as the Kingpin—studied Noah Vale without a hint of impatience.
Negotiations were always like this. Start high, push hard, and see where things landed. Words didn't matter. Results did.
If Noah could truly guarantee him the mayor's seat in New York City, then fifty million dollars was nothing.
Fisk smiled faintly. "So tell me—what exactly makes you so confident you can get me elected?"
Noah leaned back, relaxed. "Elections come down to one thing: public support. Whoever wins the people, wins the city."
He tapped his temple lightly. "And I happen to have something that could win over not just New York… but the entire world."
Fisk's eyes narrowed. "You mean that 'anyone can become superhuman' method you mentioned to the press?"
"You thought I was bluffing?"
Noah shrugged. "It's simple. Anyone can learn it in a day. And the best part? Training replaces sleep. No lost productivity. No burnout. Just steady improvement—and a longer lifespan."
That got Fisk's full attention.
If it was real, this wasn't just a mayoral campaign tool. This was power on a national—no, global—scale. The wealthy elite had poured billions into extending human life, only to end up with unstable mutations and dangerous side effects.
But this?
Clean. Accessible. Scalable.
Dangerous.
Fisk's voice dropped slightly. "And you're just… handing this to me? For fifty million?"
Noah chuckled. "That money isn't the deal. It's the test."
"A test?"
"Of whether you're worth working with."
Noah's tone stayed casual, but his eyes sharpened. "Wire the money. Show me you're serious. Then we talk partnership."
He shrugged. "If not, I can walk out right now. You're not the only one with deep pockets."
Then he added, almost lazily, "I picked you first because you're not exactly a good guy. The so-called Kingpin of crime? Fifty million is pocket change compared to one of your… business transactions."
The air in the car tightened.
Fisk held his gaze. "The money will be transferred shortly. But if you're lying to me—"
Noah didn't let him finish.
He casually placed a hand on Camila's shoulder, then pressed his foot down.
The metal floor of the car gave way instantly.
His shoe punched through the chassis and slammed into the asphalt below.
The driver's eyes widened in horror as Noah dragged his foot against the road, sparks screaming beneath them.
The car shuddered violently.
Then—against all physics—the speeding vehicle ground to a complete stop in seconds.
Noah stepped out, stretching slightly like he'd just finished a light workout. He gave Fisk a disappointed look.
"Threats only work if you've got the power to back them up."
He turned. "Come on, Camila. Let's go. Dinner's off."
"Wait."
Fisk's voice cut through the night.
When Noah glanced back, the crime lord's expression had completely changed—calm, composed, almost polite.
"Perhaps I didn't express myself properly."
He folded his hands. "Fifty million doesn't reflect my sincerity."
A beat.
"Two hundred million. Transferred tonight. No conditions. Consider it a gesture of goodwill."
Noah raised an eyebrow, genuinely impressed.
Now that's a professional.
"Alright," he said, stepping back into the car. "Since you're being reasonable, I won't hold it against you."
He settled into his seat. "But if you're going to be mayor someday, you might want to work on your bedside manner."
Fisk gave a short nod. "Driver. Move."
The driver, still shaken, slammed the accelerator.
Noah pulled out his phone and opened a file.
"This is the method," he said, holding it out. "I recorded it. Go ahead—take a look."
Fisk hesitated for half a second.
Something that could reshape humanity… stored in a phone gallery?
It felt absurd.
Still, he took it.
As the car sped through the city, Fisk read every word carefully, committing it to memory.
Minutes passed.
Then he frowned.
"According to this… progress is slow. Reaching your level would take years. Maybe a decade."
Noah smirked. "You're thinking too small."
Fisk looked up.
"Ever heard of outsourcing?"
"…Go on."
"An average person can generate a small amount of energy each night," Noah explained. "So pay them for it."
Fisk's expression shifted.
Noah continued, "Let's say you pay someone a hundred dollars for a night's effort. Over a year, that's about thirty-six thousand."
He leaned forward slightly. "Ten years' worth? Three hundred sixty thousand. A century? Just over three and a half million."
Fisk's breathing slowed.
He saw it now.
"Even factoring in some loss during transfer," Noah said, "you could buy decades of accumulated power overnight."
He tapped the car door lightly. "For less than the price of this car, you could turn yourself into something… more."
Silence filled the vehicle.
Then Fisk looked back at the screen, eyes burning with interest.