"Given Mr. Norman Osborn's reckless decisions regarding the so-called Super Soldier Serum and the ongoing damage it has inflicted on our stock prices," Valentine began, his voice steady but edged with urgency, "the exposure of human experiments in the second basement level, coupled with the tragic incident in the third, has severely tarnished the Osborn Group's reputation."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle over the boardroom. "The Board of Directors has therefore concluded that Mr. Osborn is no longer fit to serve as Chairman and CEO. Effective immediately, he is relieved of all duties."
In less than five minutes, Valentine had introduced Wilson Fisk—known to many as Kingpin—to the Osborn Group's Board of Directors, and Kingpin had swiftly moved to propose this seismic decision.
No one could have anticipated that Wilson Fisk, with his rotund frame and disarming, almost jovial demeanor, would call for a vote to oust Norman Osborn so decisively.
"Who exactly are you? I've never heard of you," Professor Connors, a scientist and board member, demanded, his brow furrowed. He and Osborn had always maintained a cordial relationship, and he felt compelled to seek clarity.
Kingpin turned to Connors with a warm smile, his tone almost disarmingly polite. "I'm merely a spice merchant," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "But I firmly believe that for the Osborn Group to thrive, removing Norman Osborn is a necessary step."
He stepped forward, positioning himself at the head of the conference table, his gaze sweeping over the board members. "Furthermore," he continued, his voice now carrying an undeniable authority, "I hold sixty-seven percent of the Osborn Group's shares, granting me absolute control. My earlier announcement was simply a courtesy to inform you."
The room erupted into chaos, murmurs and gasps rippling through the board members like a shockwave.
Valentine exhaled quietly, a wave of relief washing over him. He wasn't the only one whose shares had been forcibly acquired by Kingpin through underhanded means; several others in the room had suffered the same fate.
"I object!" Professor Connors declared, slamming one hand onto the conference table as he began to rise in protest.
Crash!
The conference room door was kicked open with a violent force, and Silver Sable strode in, her silver-gray hair catching the light, her light-colored suit sharp and professional. Behind her followed Matt Murdock, the lawyer, his dark red sunglasses glinting as he entered.
"Esteemed board members," Matt began, his voice calm but commanding, "I am Matt Murdock, representing my client. We have irrefutable evidence that challenges the legality of the funding sources behind Mr. Wilson Fisk's acquisition of Osborn Group shares."
He faced Kingpin directly, his sightless eyes seeming to bore into the man. "According to the evidence provided by my client, Mr. Wilson Fisk is none other than the notorious crime lord known as Kingpin, operating out of New York. The funds used to purchase these shares were derived from illegal activities, including cigarette trafficking, arms smuggling, extortion, and robbery."
With each word, Kingpin's expression darkened, his benevolent mask slipping further.
Silver Sable stood with her arms crossed, a faint smirk playing on her lips as she watched Matt's performance. She knew little about the law, but that didn't stop her from enjoying the spectacle.
Slap!
Matt pulled a document from his pocket and slammed it onto the conference table. "I have already filed a preliminary injunction with the court to freeze the disputed shares currently controlled by Mr. Wilson Fisk."
The room seemed to hold its breath. Kingpin's carefully laid plans—his exorbitant purchase of shares at a premium during the Osborn Group's plummeting stock prices, all to launder his illicit fortune—had been undone in an instant. A mysterious lawyer, a silver-haired woman, and an unseen client had unraveled everything.
Kingpin's face contorted, the genial facade giving way to the raw, menacing fury he had displayed the previous night when facing ten martial arts masters from across the globe. With a roar, he seized the massive conference table and flipped it with terrifying strength.
Papers scattered like leaves in a storm as the enormous wooden table soared through the air, hurtling toward Matt and Silver Sable like a missile.
"Dodge!" Silver Sable shouted, leaping to the side. She reached to pull Matt out of harm's way, only to realize the blind lawyer's reflexes outmatched her own. The table crashed harmlessly to the floor, leaving Matt unscathed.
"Run! Let the police handle him!" Silver Sable called out.
The board members, already scrambling in panic the moment Kingpin's temper erupted, had fled the room, leaving only Kingpin, Silver Sable, and Matt behind.
Matt moved to leave, his mind racing. He needed to find a secluded spot to shed his suit and don his Daredevil attire to confront Kingpin.
Kingpin's muscles bulged, his suit straining at the seams. One thought consumed him: Kill him.
Matt's injunction had obliterated Kingpin's carefully orchestrated scheme. Though he didn't know who was pulling the strings behind the scenes, Kingpin's only desire now was to crush this lawyer and make his escape.
He believed in his own resilience. Even without the Osborn Group as his springboard to power, even without the wealth he'd amassed in Hell's Kitchen over years, he could rebuild. No one could stop him.
With a thunderous stomp, the floorboards shuddered beneath his weight. Kingpin charged toward Matt, raising a fist larger than the lawyer's head, poised to strike.
But at that moment, a gust of wind swept through the room, and a figure clad in a black, form-fitting suit appeared, its pointed ears sharp against the silhouette of its cowl. Cold, unyielding eyes gleamed with an almost inhuman intensity as the figure blocked Kingpin's path.
Kingpin's pupils constricted, his breath growing heavy. His fists clenched, his entire body trembling with rage.
He had heard of this figure too many times in recent days, and each mention stoked his hatred. Batman.
This was the man who had thwarted Kingpin's plan to have Black Cat sell defective firearms to Joseph, disrupting his bid to seize more territory in the city's gang wars. This was the man who had captured Scorpion Mike and Kingpin's personal driver, Walker, forcing Kingpin to accelerate his takeover of the Osborn Group out of fear that his secrets would be exposed. And now, here he was again, standing in the way of Kingpin's ambition to become the undisputed controller of the Osborn Group, the underground emperor of New York—perhaps even the world.
Whether or not Batman was directly involved in this latest disruption, Kingpin saw him as the ultimate obstacle. Old grudges and new vendettas converged, fueling his fury.
Whoosh!
The air howled as Kingpin's fist cut through it, a whirlwind erupting in the conference room. The punch was unrestrained, capable of felling a world-class martial artist, shattering concrete walls, bending steel beams, or tearing through an ordinary human. With this fist, Kingpin believed he could crush every gang in the world and claim his throne as their emperor.
From the sidelines, Matt murmured to himself, his heightened senses picking up the steady rhythm of Batman's heartbeat. "His heart rate isn't accelerating at all. His breathing is calm, his stance brimming with confidence. His muscles are tensing, but there's no fear. He's not afraid of Kingpin."
Silver Sable's hand instinctively reached for a gun that wasn't there, her suit offering no concealed weapons. Instead, she kicked up a scattered chair, gripped its back with both hands, and prepared to rush to Batman's aid.
But Matt's hand shot out, stopping her. "No need."
As his words hung in the air, a sound like a cannon blast echoed through the Osborn Group building. Kingpin's devastating punch connected with Batman—and in that instant, Kingpin's massive frame, clad in his white suit, was sent flying. He crashed through the conference room wall, the impact reverberating like an explosion.