Wilson Fisk.
Kingpin.
When this name was uttered from Madame Hydra's seductive red lips, William felt his newly acquired "Toxin Resistance" activate passively at that very moment.
He desperately fought against the potent poison named "Fear" that rushed from the soles of his feet straight to the top of his head.
The black metal card in his hand instantly became hotter than a branding iron.
William suddenly felt some regret.
Attend Kingpin's dinner?
And as Madame Hydra's "business consultant"?
A World-ending disaster movie was already playing out in William's mind, his CPU smoking furiously from overload.
But the muscles on his face, driven by his cockroach-like survival instinct, miraculously maintained that professional smile of "everything is under control."
He even bowed slightly to Ophelia, performing that calm, professional, and even slightly expectant expression of meeting a worthy opponent to an Oscar-winning level.
"Wilson Fisk... a very significant name."
William's voice was steady.
"It is my honor to represent you, Madame, in assessing the risk index of such a heavyweight 'potential business partner.'"
His persona couldn't break; if it broke, he would die.
Ophelia seemed satisfied with his reaction.
She didn't want a subservient lackey, but a "tool" that could understand the chessboard and dare to make a move.
"Fisk has been integrating 'resources' in New York recently, making big moves. He's invited representatives from various factions, wanting to re-divide the pie," Ophelia explained indifferently, a hint of disdain in her words.
"And you," her scrutinizing gaze fell on William, "a suddenly appearing 'risk management expert' with a mysterious background, are the best pathfinder."
Pathfinder?
William frantically complained in his mind: In plain terms, he was a disposable human-shaped landmine detector! And the kind that explodes spectacularly when it hits a landmine, putting on a big fireworks show for those behind!
"I understand."
William nodded, a look of "so that's how it is" dawning on his face.
"In a complex business environment, introducing an uncontrollable 'new variable' is itself a highly sophisticated negotiation strategy. It will keep Mr. Fisk from knowing your true hand and intentions."
As he spoke grand, high-sounding words, he rapidly pondered his chances of survival.
Madame Hydra was using him.
First, to use him, this mysterious "stone," to test the waters of Kingpin's deep pool.
Second, to test William Rodriguez, this "new tool," for its quality and hardness.
If he could survive in Kingpin's territory, and even bring back useful information, his "tool value" would greatly increase.
If he died... well, that would mean the tool wasn't durable, and there'd be no pity in discarding it.
Damn it, the business logic of Terrorists was just this simple, unpretentious, and efficient.
"My assistant will send you the specific dinner information," Ophelia said, cradling her cat and turning to leave. "I look forward to your 'risk assessment report,' Mr. Rodriguez. Don't disappoint me."
"Mission accomplished, Madame."
...When William walked out of the underground Base and breathed the Manhattan air again, he felt like he had just been pulled from the Water.
His back was icy cold.
Madame Hydra, Ophelia Sarkissian.
Kingpin, Wilson Fisk.
These two names collided back and forth in his mind, sparking a series of flashes.
Each flash was a capitalized "Danger" character.
He looked down at the black metal card in his hand.
This thing wasn't an invitation; it was clearly a one-way VIP ticket to hell.
And it was registered under his real name.
"System, come out, let's talk."
William clenched his teeth in his mind as he walked quickly down the street.
"You gave me a catnip physique, which attracted a HYDRA leader, and now I have to go meet Kingpin. Are you sure my profession is an insurance salesman and not some extreme sports high-risk industry experience officer?"
The System was unresponsive, as aloof as ever.
William's thoughts stirred, and he brought up his personal panel.
[Protagonist: William Rodriguez]
[Abilities: Mechanical Induction (Intermediate), Danger Prediction (Intermediate), Novice Energy Tuning (Novice), Resilient Skin (Novice), Trajectory Prediction (Novice), Electrical Energy Absorption (Novice), Spark of Inspiration (Intermediate), Palm Arc Pulse (Miniaturized), Superhuman Strength (Novice), Pain Suppression (Novice), Mental Resilience (Passive), Bio-static Adhesion (Novice), Tactical Vision (Novice), Radar Sense (Novice), Data Touch (Novice), Toxin Resistance (Novice), Chi (Novice), Tiger God Affinity (Passive)]
[Exclusive Items: "paradox briefcase", "foolproof plan"]
Looking at this long list of abilities, William's mood calmed down a little.
There were many abilities, but it felt like each one was just touched upon, highlighting breadth over depth.
"Toxin Resistance (Novice)" came just in time.
Going to Kingpin's dinner, who knew if there would be any "seasoning" added to the wine.
Although ineffective against super toxins, it could at least guard against most conventional operations.
And "Chi (Novice)".
William tried to concentrate and feel the so-called "life energy" within his body.
He held his breath, imitating the kung fu movies, and focused his Chi on his lower abdomen.
One minute later.
Besides feeling a little hypoxic, he felt absolutely nothing.
It seemed this thing needed to be improved through meditation and exercise.
It wasn't a plug-and-play, idiot-proof ability.
As for "Tiger God Affinity"... William's facial muscles twitched.
This ability was practically a walking social "bomb," capable of triggering a large-scale "cat-attracting" scene at any moment.
He glanced at his account balance.
The startup capital Tony Stark gave him, plus Daredevil, Iron Fist, White Tiger, and Madame Hydra's recent deposit... not counting the small island that required continuous investment, he was now a millionaire with tens of millions of U.S. dollars.
He had money, but his life hung by a thread.
The immediate priority was to prepare for Kingpin's dinner.
He couldn't possibly wear this ridiculous stealth tactical suit.
That wouldn't be going as a pathfinder; that would be going as the Joker.
William walked into a high-end men's custom tailoring shop on Fifth Avenue.
The store's decor was understated yet luxurious, with the mingled scent of leather and cedar in the air.
An old tailor with gold-rimmed glasses and immaculately combed hair greeted him.
"Good evening, sir. How may I assist you?"
"I need a suit for an important dinner," William said. "The best fabric, the fastest speed."
The old tailor's gaze swept over him, not showing any surprise at his strange stealth suit.
"Of course, sir. Please follow me."
Just as William was following the old tailor towards the VIP fitting room, something unexpected happened.
A British Shorthair cat, kept in the shop as a mascot, was originally dozing lazily on the cashier's counter.
It suddenly jolted awake, leaping down from the counter.
Then, it scurried on its four short legs, like a blue-grey cannonball, rushing directly towards William.
William's "Danger Prediction" didn't issue any warnings, because the cat's intentions were full of "closeness" and "fawning," without a trace of malice.
With a "thump."
The cat accurately bumped into William's shin, then lay down on the spot, exposing its belly, and purring like a tractor.
The old tailor stopped, adjusted his glasses, and a hint of confusion appeared on his face.
"Churchill? What's gotten into him today... he never actively approaches guests."
William's temples throbbed.
Here we go again!
He forced himself to remain calm, bent down, and said in a compassionate tone, "He merely sensed my pure and kind heart, and... my love for all life."
As he spouted nonsense, he cursed the System a hundred times in his mind.
Just then, a woman in a black suit walked in from outside the shop. Her expression was cold, and she held a tablet computer.
She walked directly up to William.
"Mr. Rodriguez, Madame asked me to give you the dinner details."
It was Madame Hydra's assistant.
William took the tablet, which displayed the dinner's time, location, and a simple guest list.
When he saw the names on the list, each one renowned in New York's underworld, his heart constricted.
The woman didn't leave immediately. Her gaze fell on the cat playfully rolling at William's feet, then she looked at William's "charlatan-like" face.
She said nothing, but the scrutinizing feeling, as if she were looking at a rare experimental subject, made William very uncomfortable.
"I will attend on time."
The woman nodded and turned to leave.
William sighed in relief; he felt like he had just been repeatedly dancing on the edge of the underworld.
"Sir, your suit..."
The old tailor reminded him.
"Right, let's continue."
Half an hour later, William left in his stealth suit.
The clothes wouldn't be ready for a few days.
After some thought, William decided to go home and call someone.
Someone who could provide him with some "outside assistance."
Back in his familiar apartment, William, nestled on the sofa, dialed Matt Murdock's number.
The call was quickly answered, and Matt's slightly weary but still steady voice came through: "William? Danny and Ava... settled?"
"Settled, and I even took on a bigger order, but now I've run into a tricky little problem."
William lowered his voice, making his tone sound serious and grave.
"A week from now, Wilson Fisk is hosting a dinner, and I have to go."
He paused, then dropped the real bomb.
"As a business consultant."
On the other end of the phone, there was a deathly silence.
-------------------------------
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