With care to not be caught by security cameras spread through New York—what could reveal his current position—Peter utilized some of the equipment he had once used to invade Oscorp Industries.
Some hours after leaving his hideout he finally arrived at his destination—Hell's Kitchen, a place that seemed to have been abandoned by God, a true hell on Earth.
Almost every crime you could imagine had already happened or was happening right now in this hellhole: drug trafficking, extortion, murder, human trafficking—you name it.
This place was the home of several criminal organizations that looked more like a spreading cancer, organizations that affected all of New York on a daily basis.
Even if Fisk was a powerful figure, someone with a lot of power, many industries under his name, and several thugs working for him, he still couldn't completely take control over Hell's Kitchen.
Other organizations like The Hand, the Triads, the Irish mob, and even the Russian mafia also thrived in this pit.
This was the perfect place for such organizations to grow and spread their influence across New York. But even if it was perfect for them to thrive, they still met some resistance in their expansion.
Not only having to deal with enemy organizations fighting for control of the city, but also suffering attacks from unknown figures that hurt their businesses.
They didn't know who or what acted against them, but Peter knew very well who those people were, he had even worked with some of them in the past while protecting ungrateful civilians—people that only needed to see their saviors slip once before pointing their fingers at them.
Even though they never received the recognition they deserved, his old colleagues still tried their best to make this world a better place.
Remembering what he and his former companions went through to protect ungrateful people, Peter couldn't help but disdain his past actions.
"All that work, for what? In the end it was meaningless. The amount of crime didn't change, what the people thought about us didn't change either. Hell, some of them even started to criticize what we did…"
"In this place, people don't want hope. They don't want light. What truly makes them happy is watching someone else sink deeper into the mud than themselves. That's what really brings them joy."
He scoffed beneath his mask, his voice dripping with bitterness.
"Daredevil is really an idiot, he keeps fighting for them, keeps suffering for them, keeps trying to bring them light. He is a fool... a blind fool."
Sneaking through the old brick buildings and dark alleys, Peter couldn't help but think about his old vigilante days.
"But I can't blame him… I was once a fool too."
He who once tried to bring light to the world of those miserable people—people not only oppressed by the mob but also by greedy politicians—was no longer the same person as before.
He was tired. Tired of doing ungrateful work for ungrateful people. Tired of wasting his time protecting them. And in the end, that had cost him his family—his everything.
If only he hadn't wasted his time protecting those people. If instead he had focused on creating new tech, pursued new powers, new ways to improve his strength—maybe he could have saved his loved ones at that time.
"I was blind, but now I see… I truly see how this rotten world really is. Nothing but power matters in it. And in the end, I was too weak, too naive to see how it really worked."
Peter clenched his fist around the web he was using to travel through the alleys.
As his mind went through that rollercoaster of emotions, he got closer and closer to his destination: one of Fisk's hidden headquarters, located deep inside Hell's Kitchen.
Peter didn't choose that specific hideout by chance. Instead of searching for Fisk through all of New York in his various hideouts, through shady sources he had learned that Fisk would be conducting some exchanges in this specific place tonight.
All he needed to do was appear here, showcase his product to Fisk, and get what he wanted.
Peter knew he didn't need to make any sophisticated plan to deal with Fisk. He knew his products would be enough to secure the deal.
Fisk needed power to fight not only the other organizations that were trying to expand and take his territories, not only he needed power to deal with the criminal groups but also needed it to deal with the vigilantes who continued to interfere with his business.
His normal henchmen weren't enough anymore. Fisk had even tried to employ some mutants, but he could only recruit the ones neither the X-Men nor the Brotherhood wanted, so in the end none of his attempts gave the desired results.
His expansion was stalled, and some of his territories were even being taken or destroyed by others as the days passed.
Peter was bringing him exactly what he needed at this moment. So there was no reason for him to turn him down.
It was a win-win situation for both sides.
Fisk would get the power to fight back and conquer his enemies, and Peter would not only get the resources he needed but also create a great distraction—one that would divert some of the eyes aimed at him.
After all, if a bunch of super-soldier criminals appeared out of nowhere, it would surely cause chaos no matter where they went.
After a while, sneaking through alleys, using his old web devices and his supernatural flexibility and strength, Peter finally arrived at his destination.
Why use his old devices when he had organic webbing that was stronger and better? Well, even though there were other reasons, the main one was simple: the synthetic webs dissolved after some time, leaving no trace. His organic webs, however, would stay.
And being discovered because of his own webbing leaving traces behind? That would be laughable.
Finally, he arrived at Kingpin's hideout. He slipped into the building, avoiding the guards and the cameras. Moving through the halls, he crept closer to Fisk's main office.
Crawling through the ceiling of the corridor that led there, Peter finally reached the office door. Pressing his head against the wall, he tried to listen what was happening inside the room.
It was very easy for him. He could hear everything as if he were inside the room himself. Not even the sound insulation on the walls could block his enhanced hearing.
"Boss, those Russian bastards attacked one of our warehouses again! They're getting reckless, they even attacked our drug points!"
"Yeah! And don't forget that vigilante interfering with our business! He shut down three of our places, and also sent a lot of our men to prison or the hospital!"
"Those Irish bastards too, they're stirring trouble every single day! It's like they don't respect the Boss anymore!"
Peter listened as Fisk's men vented their frustrations. For minutes they went on, until Fisk finally dismissed them, leaving him alone in the office.
Kingpin lowered his head, lost in thought, his massive hands resting on the desk.
He didn't even notice the white figure that was now standing silently in front of him.
Peter had slipped in without making a sound.
He waited, savoring Fisk's distraction, then coughed deliberately.
Cough. Cough.
Fisk raised his head, at first thinking one of his men had returned. But when his eyes met the figure before him, he froze for a split second.
Spider-Man.
Or at least, something that looked like him. A new, white suit.
"Spider-Man… new costume? I like it."
"Thanks. Made it myself, I really like it too."
"And what pleasure do I owe, for you to appear before me without warning? You could have said something, so I could've prepared a proper welcome."
"No need, no need. Though I have to say, your security is a bit lacking. What if someone with bad intentions had come instead of me?"
"Thank you for bringing that to my attention. I'll have my men look into it later."
"Now then, is that all you came to say, or do you have something else in mind?"
"Straight to the point, huh? Fine then, let's not waste time on small talk."
Peter placed a box on the desk.
"A box? That's what you came here to show me?"
"No. Not the box. What's inside it."