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Chapter 35: Productions! Please, Lower Their IQ to the negatives!
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The moment the trio entered, all movement ceased. Hard eyes tracked them, and hands drifted toward weapons.
Adam walked in as if he owned the deed to the place, his smile serene and utterly out of place.
One of the thugs, a brute with a broken nose, stood up. "Who the fuck are you?" He snarled. Another licked his lips, eyeing Adam's expensive suit with predatory greed.
Ignoring the threats, Adam closed the distance, "Marlen is expecting me. Lead the way." He glanced back at Frank. "Stay here. Make sure our… deal doesn't get interrupted."
The sheer, unshakable confidence in his voice gave the thugs pause. "Marlen ain't expectin' nobody," Broken Nose countered, his hand now firmly on his gun.
Adam frowned, his gaze sweeping over them with dismissive finality. "It's not your job to know things. It's your job to do things. You aren't the one in charge, are you?"
His voice hardened. "Now lead the fucking way."
One of the goons, younger and more hot-headed, took a step forward. "You don't talk to us like that..."
Adam cut him off, his eyes cold. "Take it up with HR. I'm sure your boss won't put a bullet in your head for complaining like a bitch. Probably."
[He's telling a mobster to file a complaint! Lol, but why is he even giving them the time of day?]
[The absolute audacity! I'm howling!]
[Frank's mouth is twitching. He must be speechless.]
[Nah, he's just dying to put a bullet in their heads. He has that urge in him.]
[True. Most of us are horny for sex. He's horny for blood, but hey, I don't judge.]
The combination of Adam's unnatural authority and the looming, silent presence of the Punisher was enough.
One of the thugs, sweating nervously, gestured for them to follow.
He led Adam and Domino up a flight of grimy stairs, leaving Frank to stand guard like a statue of vengeance.
'It worked,' Adam mused. Confidence can get you far, he noted. Honestly, he just tried to see if he could successfully pressure them into making a mistake through words alone.
It worked.
Novice Trickster ++
The door to Marlen's office was shoved open.
The man himself was a bloated, sweaty figure in a stained silk shirt, a bottle of whiskey in one hand and two bored-looking women on either side of him.
The room was a mess of empty bottles, overflowing ashtrays, and the stench of stale vice.
"Who the fuck is this?" Marlen slurred, his eyes bleary.
The lead goon paled. "Boss, he said..."
Marlen's gaze slid past Adam and landed on Domino. A lecherous grin split his face. "Well, hello there. Come to papa, sweetheart."
Adam stepped forward, his nose wrinkling. "Drinking first thing in the morning? Really? No class."
He tutted. "Didn't expect that from the brother of the 'Top Man.' But I guess if there's a top, there must be a bottom. If you know what I mean."
He gave Marlen a pitying look. "And you, you're quite special. The absolute bottom of the hierarchy. Outstanding."
[He's roasting a mob boss to his face!]
[Emotional Damage. GIF!!!]
[Wait. The Top Man's brother? I see what Adam's doing.]
[I see the vision!]
With every word, a vein throbbed on Marlen's forehead. His face turned a mottled red.
He clutched the whiskey bottle like a club and surged to his feet. "You little bastard!!! Kill these..."
He never finished the sentence.
Pfft.
A single, suppressed shot rang out. A neat hole appeared in the center of Marlen's forehead.
His expression of rage froze, then went slack as he crumpled to the floor.
Simultaneously, the two bodyguards flanking him convulsed and dropped, tiny mechanical spiders retracting their electro-stingers from their necks.
The goon who had led them up, fumbling for his gun, was met with a single, precise shot from Domino's pistol.
Pfft. He fell backward, a look of stupid surprise on his face.
Loud, even with a silencer. Domino wasn't surprised, already moving to secure the door. "I'll handle the rest downstairs."
Adam walked over to Marlen's body, holstering his own weapon. He crouched, examining the corpse. "Yikes. No class, even in death."
He sighed, a theatrical sound. "I've already envisioned a much more epic death for myself, you know. Just in case. Got to give the audience a good show."
He pulled Marlen's phone from the dead man's pocket, connected it to his own with a slim cable, and let his Cyberpathy do the rest.
In seconds, he had what he needed. He dialed a number.
A rough, sleep-graveled voice answered. "The fuck you callin' me for? It's too goddamn early."
Adam's voice was smooth as silk. "I'm honored to be speaking with one of the heads of the Maggia family. The 'Top Man' himself."
The voice on the other end, belonging to a man known only by "Top Man", instantly sharpened. "Who is this? Where's Marlen?"
"Ah, Marlen is… unfortunately unavailable," Adam said cheerfully. "But you know, I know for a fact that Heaven is real. So if you could just die, you'd be able to talk to him in Hell. Good idea, no? So… do we have a deal?"
The line erupted into a torrent of Sicilian curses and promises of a slow, painful death.
Adam laughed, a bright, genuine sound. "That's what you get for fucking us over! And now that a better collaborator has approached, it can only mean your death. So prepare a decent coffin."
"I hear the quality of your coffin directly correlates to the star rating of your hotel in Hell. You wouldn't want to end up in a one-star pit, would you?"
"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!" Silvio screamed.
"Oh, right. I almost forgot," Adam said, his tone shifting to one of cold formality. "Mr. Fisk sends his regards."
[HE FRAMED FISK! Goddamn, he's framing everyone.]
[This is the most beautiful, chaotic thing I've ever witnessed!]
[Chaos.gif]
[Disaster Girl.jpg]
[Would the Top Man fall for it?]
He hung up, glanced at the two terrified women cowering in the corner, and walked out without another word.
He descended the stairs into a scene of carnage. Frank Castle was a force of nature, a whirlwind of controlled violence.
Bodies lay strewn across the poker tables and the floor, the air thick with the coppery scent of blood.
Domino moved beside him, her every shot impossibly finding its mark, her luck ensuring she was never where the enemy's bullets landed.
It was a brutal, cinematic ballet of death.
They left the building just as the first wail of police sirens pierced the air. Adam had already scrubbed any digital footprint; the rest would be handled by the shadowy hand of S.H.I.E.L.D., cleaning up the mess.
In the car, the silence was broken by Frank's grating voice. "I'll work with you. A few more times. To return the favor."
The favor was the detailed intel on his family's killers that Adam had provided.
"But this?" He gestured vaguely back toward the bloodbath. "This plotting… It's a waste. The crime families, a man like Fisk… they don't die from tricks. You make them bleed. You bleed them until there's nothing left. That's the only thing they understand."
[Frank's not wrong. This is very subtle for the Punisher.]
[True. They aren't idiots. They wouldn't fall for it so easily.]
Adam shrugged, his eyes narrowing as he watched the city slide by. "I'm unfortunately a coward. I value my life too much. And I'm not that smart, so I have to use every underhanded trick I can to succeed."
The shameless admission left Domino speechless. Coward? Not smart? None of those words fit the man. What nonsense is he speaking?
"They are, however, difficult to deal with," Adam admitted, his voice dropping. "Especially Fisk. But that's exactly why I'll have at least minor success."
He knew. He knew better than Frank just how resilient his targets were.
And as he spoke, the audience was witnessing a scene he could not see, a scene that confirmed the worst.
[Reporting: A luxurious, soundproofed office.]
[Hey, Adam. It's Fisk! And he's talking to Hydra!]
[Oh shit! Adam's plan backfired!]
[Adam, be careful!]
[Hydra warning! Hydra warning! Please respond if you see this!]
[...]
The audience watched, stunned, as Wilson Fisk, the Kingpin of Crime, spoke to Hydra.
Instead of turning on Fisk, Hydra had seen an opportunity. They had brought him into the fold, offering resources and protection.
In return, they had given him a name: Adam Cypher. They painted him as a dangerous, unstable S.H.I.E.L.D. asset who was actively targeting the Kingpin's operations.
Adam, watching the audience's excited reactions scroll through his perception, felt a flicker of surprise, but no shock.
He would never underestimate an enemy. Hydra was a hydra; cutting off one head did nothing.
[They didn't take the bait! They joined forces!]
[Now Fisk knows about Adam AND thinks he's with S.H.I.E.L.D.!]
[This just got a whole lot more complicated.]
[Damn! The enemies can actually think! Now, I miss when authors lower the opponents' IQ to make the protagonist seem smart, hope Adam doesn't suffer.]
[Productions! Please lower Fisk and Hydra's IQ to the negatives!!]
[Wait, Adam, lower Fisk's IQ.]
[True, Adam, curse the ball of flesh! Make him a true muscle but no brain kind of guy!!]
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