Chapter 14: The Giants' Invitation and the Tense Wait
The news Aslan brought was like a storm herald echoing through the cold walls of the shipyard, the new headquarters of the Yanki. Wilson Fisk, aka Kingpin, wanted to "meet" Kael. This was no ordinary gang leader's call; this was an order wrapped in politeness from the undisputed ruler of the city's underworld. According to Aslan, the person who brought the message was James Wesley, Fisk's right-hand man, always dressed in impeccable suits and with an icy professionalism. The meeting was to take place the next evening, during a "special exhibition" in a luxurious art gallery under Fisk's control.
Kael remained unresponsive when he received the news, his expression as unreadable as ever. But deep down, he knew what this invitation meant. The stone he threw, knocking Borok over, had muddied the still waters and dragged the largest crocodile from its lair. The tension on the faces of Aslan and Roric, who were waiting for his orders a short distance away, was palpable.
"This could be a trap," Roric said anxiously. "Fisk may want to avenge Borok or seize Chitauri technology."
"We may not go," Aslan added. "We don't have the strength to deal with him yet."
Kael stared silently into the dark waters of the shipyard for a moment. "Ignoring is perceived as weakness," he said finally, his voice sharp as ever. "And Fisk will never tolerate weakness. We will go. But on our own terms."
Preparations began immediately. Kael knew that this meeting was a show of strength and also an opportunity to gather intelligence. Aslan, along with a few of his most trusted Echo members, was assigned to covertly observe the area around and inside the art gallery, identifying possible escape routes and ambush points. Roric would remain in the shipyard and organize defenses against any possible attack.
Kael began to "communicate" with the Chitauri power core more intensely. He sought to use the core's energy not only to increase his physical abilities, but also to sharpen his senses, to perceive the intentions and dangers around him more clearly. Against a man like Fisk, even the slightest advantage could be crucial. He also designed a thin device that could be concealed under his clothes, using the energy radiating from the core to create a small energy shield or to emit a distracting energy pulse when needed. This was his trump card.
The next evening, Kael set out for the art gallery, wearing a well-fitting, dark, plain but high-quality suit. Aslan followed him like an invisible shadow a few blocks away. Although the gallery looked like one of the city's cultural centers from the outside, Kael felt the tension in the air and the professional security that permeated every corner the moment he stepped inside. This was another stronghold of Fisk's kingdom.
James Wesley greeted Kael at the entrance to the gallery. "Mr. Kael," he said, a fake smile on his face. "Mr. Fisk is waiting for you. Please follow me." Wesley's tone was gentle, but the coldness in his eyes did not escape Kael's notice. This man was as dangerous as a snake.
Wesley led Kael into a large hall filled with modern art. In the middle of the hall, in front of a huge window, stood an imposing figure with his back to Kael: Wilson Fisk. The lights of the city illuminated Fisk's broad shoulders and impeccable suit.
Fisk turned slowly to Kael. His face was expressionless like a seasoned poker player, but his eyes held an intelligent, weighing-up glint. He was much larger than Kael physically, but the real power he radiated came not from his muscles but from his unwavering will and control.
"Mr. Kael," Fisk said, his voice deep and deep. "Welcome to our city, or rather, accept my congratulations on the 'new order' you have brought to a certain corner of our city. Borok was an undisciplined and greedy fool. In some ways, his removal could even be considered a blessing."
Kael did not respond to Fisk's backhanded compliment, but listened silently. The Chitauri core warmed slightly in his palm; he could feel the dominant aura emanating from Fisk and the almost tangible web of control around the man. Fisk's intentions were much harder to read than anyone he had encountered before; the man's mind was like a fortress built upon layers.
"However," Fisk continued, his gaze locked with Kael's. "In this city, all order comes with a price. And new players must learn the rules of the game. Your operations in Red Hook, and especially that . . . interesting technology you have, are of interest to me as well."
Fisk had spoken directly of Chitauri technology. This had happened faster than Kael had expected. So Fisk was not only interested in Borok's fall, but also in what Yankı had in his possession.
"I have a proposition for you, Mr. Kael," Fisk said, clasping his hands in front of him. "The Echo can operate under my protection. I will provide you with resources, protection, and help you rise much faster in this city. In return, I will ask for your loyalty and, of course, some of that 'interesting' technology. Especially the energy-generating stuff."
It was more of a threat than an offer. Fisk was telling Kael to either be with him or against him. And the price for standing against the Kingpin was usually death.
Kael spoke after a moment of silence. His voice was calm but firm. "Mr. Fisk," he said. "Your offer is generous. But the Echo was not built to operate under anyone's protection. We will forge our own path." A slight surge of energy from the Chitauri core gave Kael's words an almost invisible force. "As for the technology... it is the key to the Echo's future. And we do not share our keys with anyone."
The air in the room suddenly went cold. Wesley's fake smile had disappeared, replaced by a look of mixed shock and anger. Fisk's face remained the same, but the intelligent glint in his eyes narrowed dangerously for a moment.
How would the Kingpin respond to Kael's bold refusal? Was this an open declaration of war?