Not long after that, inside Fisk Tower, it was still the same Kingpin.
And today, he was furious.
That old air of total control was gone.
Ever since Clark had started, intentionally or not, tearing chunks out of his operations, and ever since his useless men had kept failing him, everything had started to slide.
Crash!
A glass of expensive red wine smashed against the floor.
Fisk paced the office like a caged lion, his huge body heaving with angry breaths.
"You're telling me Bullseye is finished?!"
At this point, Fisk was almost starting to feel like quitting the underworld entirely. His men were getting crippled, his companies were being investigated, and the idiots under him all seemed to have the brains of wet cement.
Who exactly was supposed to help him?
But he couldn't leave.
Once you went this deep into organized crime, there was no true clean exit. The only way out would be to use his public identity as a philanthropist to climb higher, maybe run for mayor next cycle, maybe even Congress, until official power itself became his shield.
"Useless! Every last one of them!" Fisk roared.
His anger wasn't just about one failed operation.
Shocker failed.
Gargan got arrested.
And now even his deadliest weapon, Bullseye, had been broken by some unknown monster.
Worse, he still didn't even know what that creature really looked like. He had no real identity, no usable information, nothing. It was like trying to fight an urban legend.
Ever since that reporter Ben Parker had run that damned exposé, Fisk's carefully built criminal empire had felt like it had stepped onto some cursed pressure plate.
Everything was spiraling.
It was raining in Kingpin's world, and he had no idea how to fix it.
"Boss... what do we do now?" one of his men asked, shaking so hard he couldn't even raise his head. "George Stacy, that psycho commissioner, is definitely filing for more warrants tonight. And tomorrow's Daily Bugle front page..."
"Shut up!"
Fisk inhaled slowly and crushed the rage down.
Only a clear mind could take him back to the top.
Only a clear mind could still save this.
He walked again to the floor-to-ceiling windows and looked out over the city, a New York that was beginning to feel unfamiliar even to him.
These days, even being a crime lord was getting difficult.
"That monster..." Fisk said at last, his voice going colder. "Leave him alone for now. If Bullseye failed, then we do this the direct way."
The killing intent coming off him was impossible to stop.
He would not allow Ben Parker's report to appear tomorrow morning.
That story wouldn't just wreck one of his supply chains, it would also tear away the mask of the "philanthropist" he had spent so long building. Maybe it still wouldn't be enough to tie him directly to everything, but he couldn't afford to leave that chance alive.
His public image was his last real path to recovery.
And now even the politicians who benefited from him wouldn't dare shield him openly. They cared too much about their own reputations.
"Put the word out to every street crew and every mercenary we've got," Fisk ordered. "I don't care what they use. Rocket launchers, C4, anything. I want the Daily Bugle building erased from the Manhattan skyline. Don't let a single rat crawl out of there alive. Especially not Ben Parker or that old man Jameson."
The underling sucked in a breath.
This was Kingpin's wrath.
And it terrified him.
"Boss, that's midtown Manhattan... if they bring in heavy weapons, the National Guard, even the Army, could get involved."
"Do what I said!" Fisk thundered. "If it comes to that, I've got the best legal team in New York to shield me!"
At this point, he didn't care.
In Fisk's eyes, the people at the bottom meant nothing anyway. If they had to die, then the least they could do was die profitably.
"Yes, boss!"
The man practically crawled out of the office.
Fisk lit a cigar, dragged deeply on it, and let the smoke roll slowly from his mouth.
"I don't care who you are..." he said softly.
"If you stand in my way, you die."
Back at the factory hideout—
Peter, Gwen, and Cindy were clustered around the radio, nervously listening to the police channel Peter had modified.
"Calling Central, malicious attack at New York General, tenth floor! Suspect Bullseye has been subdued and is currently in deep shock!"
"Repeat: key witness Eddie Brock is safe. No SWAT fatalities. Injured officers are receiving treatment at the hospital. Tell them to file for workers' comp when they get out."
The three of them let out a long breath all at once.
"Yes! Eddie's okay!" Peter said, pumping his fist.
"I told you he'd be fine. As long as Clark's there, nobody's getting hurt. There was never any real problem," Gwen said, her faith in Clark completely unshaken.
She could already picture him in her head from last night, tall, calm, untouchable.
Cindy looked just as relieved. "Bullseye? Even the name sounds scary. Hard to believe Clark beat him that easily. He's probably never walking right again."
But while the three of them were still celebrating, more calls suddenly came over the police channel.
"Emergency situation! Repeat, emergency! Large numbers of unidentified gang members and armed mercenaries are converging on the Daily Bugle building in Manhattan! They are carrying heavy military-grade weapons! Repeat, this is an organized terrorist attack!"
"All available Manhattan units are to move immediately to the Daily Bugle! SWAT is en route! Protect all personnel inside the building!"
That announcement stunned all three of them.
Peter's mind went blank.
Uncle Ben was still at work.
He was probably still working overtime.
Peter immediately yanked on his suit and ran for the exit without another thought.
"Peter, where are you going?" Cindy asked, even though she already knew.
"To save my uncle! Kingpin's cornered, and he's panicking. He's trying to silence everyone!"
Gwen didn't even bother answering. She was already changing into her suit. Her dad would definitely be heading there too, and Uncle Ben was still inside.
The three of them exchanged a look.
They all knew how serious this was.
This would be the first time they truly appeared before the world.
The first real step toward becoming heroes.
Of course, Peter would still have to write a post-mission report for Clark afterward.
As for where Clark was—
He was already sitting on top of the Daily Bugle building, brooding.
He already knew what was coming.
And he was thinking about whether or not this was the moment to reveal himself to the world.
To let Superman appear.
But if he did, would he really bring hope?
Would he really bring something good?
Personally, Clark didn't think so.
He didn't think he deserved that symbol.
He could see himself too clearly.
Even if his two lives together put him close to forty, he still thought of himself as just some dumb kid who hadn't really seen much of the world. He had imagined being Superman plenty of times in his past life, imagined stepping out before the world and what that would feel like.
But now that he really had Superman's power, he felt less certain than ever.
And beneath it all, there was always a thread of fear.
Because he didn't think he was the kind of person who could bear that much responsibility. His behavior around women alone was proof enough of that.
When some things came at him, he dodged. Pretended nothing had happened. Woke up the next day and kept going.
And darker thoughts had crossed his mind too. He had imagined ruling the world before. People in his old life had talked about characters like Homelander, or the sort of man who simply decided that power made him right.
That was why using his power sometimes frightened him.
Though not only frightened him.
There was pleasure in it too.
Pretending otherwise would be a lie.
But Ben had been right.
About responsibility.
About facing darkness without bowing your head.
His father had made his choice, and he was even willing to stake his life against the darkness in society.
Clark rose from the rooftop and looked out over all of New York.
He had made his decision.