Marvel: Killing Makes You Stronger

Chapter 40: Our Game Had Just Begun

The voice sounded like a demonic roar, shaking Kingpin so intensely that severe, bone-piercing pain surged through his brain.

It was unclear how much time had passed before the pain slowly dissipated. As the chaotic darkness faded from his sight, he returned to reality.

What appeared before him next made Kingpin's plump face fill with gloom and shock.

He saw, right before him, Bullseye who had been standing there was now lying in a pool of blood with visible wounds on his forehead and chest, disbelief filling his eyes.

Kingpin slightly raised his hand and saw a handgun in it, appearing at some unknown time.

Beside him, James Wesley staggered back a few steps, his eyes filled with horror, seemingly clueless as to why Kingpin would suddenly go mad and kill Bullseye he had personally recruited.

"So, is this a warning to me?" Kingpin muttered through the cigar clenched in his teeth.

"Fisk, just now..." James Wesley calmed himself and looked at Kingpin, hesitating to speak.

But before he could finish, a noisy commotion came from outside the door.

James Wesley turned to look and then glanced at Kingpin's grim face, silent. He walked to the office door, opened it, and saw gunmen crowded outside, ready to storm in at any moment.

Obviously, they too had heard the gunfire and thought something had happened in Kingpin's office, eager to burst in.

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"Come in, the rest of you, out."

As Kingpin's capable assistant, James Wesley held a position of authority over the gunmen. With a few words, he quelled the disturbance, signaling two gunmen to enter the office.

The two gunmen entered and saw Bullseye dead in a pool of blood, a bullet wound in his forehead confirming his death.

Looking again at the grim-faced boss holding a gun, they were almost scared breathless.

Fortunately, James Wesley directed them to carry the dead Bullseye down to the building's freezer for preservation.

The two did not dare to glance at Kingpin as they hurriedly carried the body out of the office.

Once the door closed again, James Wesley continued to look at Kingpin, uncertain, and said, "What happened between you two? Fisk, why did you suddenly kill Bullseye?"

He couldn't understand why Kingpin had suddenly taken the gun from Bullseye and shot him in the head and chest without mercy, his expression as cold as if he was a puppet controlled by someone else. Moreover, it was even stranger that Bullseye had not resisted, just quietly waiting for the bullets to come.

And with Bullseye's personality, he was just a mercenary recruited by Kingpin, completing missions for a bounty as Kingpin commanded.

They had worked closely over the years, and Kingpin had often said that Bullseye would be one of his most capable assistants.

However, today Bullseye had come to the office, said something to Kingpin, who responded with a gunshot, a development that baffled him.

"Butcher."

Kingpin turned and walked to his desk, casually placing the gun on it and crushing his cigar in the ashtray, before looking at James Wesley and uttering a word.

"Butcher? The Butcher from Queens?" James Wesley asked, puzzled.

"Bullseye's mission this time was to find the Butcher, recruit him, or kill him if that failed."

James Wesley suddenly understood; everything that had happened between Kingpin and Bullseye made sense, but then he became even more puzzled, as all of this was normal, then...

"That Butcher somehow took control of me and Bullseye, this is his warning to me, James."

Kingpin's plump face grew more fierce, and the anger in his eyes seemed to burn everything in sight: "He's provoking me."

Especially as he kept recalling that phrase.

You should hope I forget you, Kingpin.

That phrase was like daggers piercing his heart, making it bleed—a tremendous insult.

How could Kingpin, now one of New York's biggest mob bosses, not be furious?

He had always controlled the fates of others; never had anyone dared to mock him as the Butcher had, his disdainful and cold words like a deity regarding an ant that could be crushed at any moment.

The anger nearly drove Kingpin to madness.

"Fisk."

After James Wesley clarified everything, he looked at Kingpin, his expression serious and earnest: "Should I remind you?"

"Anger is the beginning of the descent into the abyss."

Kingpin's rage was cooled by James Wesley's words, like a bucket of cold water dousing his fury, allowing reason to regain control.

His heaving chest calmed down, and he slowly sat in his office chair, closing his eyes, while James Wesley stood by, watching until a minute later, Kingpin reopened his eyes.

"Anger is the beginning of a man's march towards death." He repeated the phrase, then burst out laughing, his robust laughter echoing through the entire spacious office.

James Wesley finally sighed in relief, understanding both his employer and friend.

He knew that Kingpin had regained his composure.

"Thank you for your reminder, my friend. I'm glad you've always stood by my side," Kingpin said earnestly to James Wesley.

The latter shook his head, "You know I never like to get involved in these things, but the business empire needs a calm you to support it."

"If you lose yourself to anger, then as per our agreement from the past, I will leave you."

Kingpin nodded, looking towards the bloodstain on the carpet in front of him, and spoke in a low voice, "I never lack patience, James. Time will prove everything, and no one can humiliate me in this way, not even a godlike figure like the Butcher."

"Our game has just begun."

"I'm looking forward to the moment he kneels before me."

"I'm also waiting to see it," James Wesley said with a smile, recognizing the calm, bloodthirsty, and patient Kingpin he knew.

"I need someone who can clear up my doubts; I want to know how he managed to control me and Bullseye." Kingpin's eyes were filled with seriousness.

"It just so happens I can put you in touch with someone," James Wesley replied.