That night, Noah stepped out of Fisk's now roofless car and glanced up at the entrance of the Maynes Fitness Club. A faint smile tugged at his lips.
Tomorrow was going to be interesting.
Beside him, Camila walked quietly as they headed inside. The doors shut behind them with a soft click, sealing off the noise of the city.
Noah rested a hand on her shoulder.
She stiffened slightly. "What are you doing…?"
"You didn't try to run today," Noah said calmly. "I noticed."
He turned her gently but firmly, guiding her back against the wall. His gaze stayed steady, unreadable.
"I appreciate that," he added. "So I'd like you to keep making good decisions."
Camila placed a hand against his chest, trying—weakly—to push him away. Despite her enhanced physique, it was like pushing against a wall.
"You can still say no," Noah said evenly. "Same as last night. Your choice."
Her resistance slowly faded.
Noah let out a quiet breath of amusement, then scooped her up effortlessly and carried her toward the sleeping area.
"Wait," Camila said suddenly, her voice soft but urgent.
He paused. "What?"
Her face flushed as she leaned into him slightly, avoiding eye contact. "I… have a request."
Noah raised an eyebrow. "This better be important."
She hesitated, then spoke in a small voice, "Later… can I… drink a little of your blood?"
Noah blinked.
Yeah, no. That's not happening.
He shook his head without hesitation. "Not a chance. Too risky."
Her expression fell instantly.
Noah didn't budge. He flicked his fingers, cutting the lights in the room.
Darkness settled in.
Whatever followed, the night carried on in silence.
Meanwhile, Fisk's car sped back through the streets of New York.
The moment Noah was out of sight, Fisk went to work.
Phone calls. Orders. Logistics.
Every request Noah had made was relayed with absolute priority. By morning, everything would be ready.
By the time Fisk arrived at his estate, a group was already waiting for him.
Tombstone. Bullseye. Scorpion. And several hired mutant operatives.
His inner circle.
"What's this about, boss?" Tombstone asked first.
Fisk didn't waste time.
"I've acquired something valuable," he said, holding up a printed document. "A method that can enhance your strength. Study it. Try it."
He paused, then added, "First one to make it work gets five hundred thousand."
That got their attention.
The papers were passed around. The room fell quiet as they began reading.
At first, skepticism was obvious.
This sounded… theoretical. Abstract. Hard to believe.
But none of them voiced it. Fisk didn't tolerate that kind of hesitation.
So they read.
Memorized.
Tried.
Time passed.
After about half an hour, one of the bald mutants suddenly stiffened.
His eyes widened.
"There's… something," he muttered, placing a hand against his abdomen. "I can feel it."
He looked up, a grin spreading across his face. "Boss—I did it."
Fisk leaned forward slightly, interest flickering in his eyes. "Already?"
Tombstone stood up abruptly. "You're serious?"
"Why would I lie?" the man shot back. "This works."
That changed everything.
The rest of them immediately got serious.
No more half-hearted attempts. No more skepticism.
Focus sharpened.
Within a few hours, every person in the room had managed to produce a trace of that same internal energy.
Fisk observed carefully.
The mutants, on average, picked it up faster than the others. Their bodies adapted more easily, as if they were already primed for it.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
When everyone had succeeded, Fisk finally spoke again.
"Good," he said. "Now we test the next step."
He looked at Tombstone. "Transfer yours to him."
Tombstone frowned. "Boss, I barely have any. He's already got more than me."
Fisk smiled faintly. "Trust me."
Then he explained Noah's idea—how energy could be transferred, accumulated, traded.
The room fell silent.
Then—
Excitement.
Real, raw excitement.
If this worked, it changed everything. No more grinding for small gains. No more waiting.
They all had crews. Networks. Dozens—hundreds—of people under them.
If those people could generate energy…
And they could collect it—
Tombstone's hesitation vanished instantly.
"Sit down," he snapped at the bald mutant. "Let's try it."
They followed the method carefully.
Slowly, steadily, Tombstone transferred everything he had.
When it was done, he leaned back, breathing out.
"Well?" he asked. "Did it work?"
The mutant frowned slightly, concentrating.
"…Yeah. But not exactly how we thought."
Everyone leaned in.
"I got something," he said. "But it's… less than expected. Some of it just disappeared."
Fisk's eyes narrowed.
"Loss during transfer," he murmured.
The man nodded. "And there's another issue. Anything below a certain amount… doesn't seem to hold. It just fades."
Fisk leaned back, expression thoughtful.
A system with built-in inefficiency.
A natural limiter.
Which meant—
Control.
Scarcity.
Value.
Slowly, a smile spread across his face.