"Have we confirmed their identities?" Fisk asked, his fingers unconsciously working at his platinum cufflinks—a tell that indicated his growing interest.
"One of them has been identified as a vigilante known as the Punisher," Wesley reported. "Real name unknown, background classified or erased. He's been systematically eliminating criminal operations throughout the city. Locating him may prove challenging."
"And the second attacker?"
Wesley hesitated, his professional composure slipping slightly. "This is where things become... unusual. Our witnesses have provided conflicting descriptions of an Korean male, but their accounts vary significantly."
Fisk turned from the window, his massive frame creating a shadow that seemed to fill half the office. "Explain."
"Some identified him as Korean, others as Japanese. However, approximately twelve percent of our witnesses insisted he was the actor Jackie Chan." Wesley's expression suggested he was still processing this information himself. "They were quite adamant about it."
Even Wilson Fisk—a man who'd seen the full spectrum of human behavior from noble to depraved—found himself momentarily speechless.
"Jackie Chan," he repeated slowly. "The action movie star?"
"That was their claim, yes sir."
Fisk set down his wine glass with deliberate care. "Wesley, I've built my empire on the principle that every detail matters. Are you seriously telling me that multiple trained criminals believe a Hollywood actor participated in a military-grade assault on a drug operation?"
"Facial recognition difficulties appear to be a factor," Wesley replied diplomatically. "However, this does complicate our identification process."
Fisk moved to his desk, settling his considerable bulk into the reinforced chair that had been custom-built to support his frame. "What do we know about the commission itself?"
"Anonymous contract posted on the dark web," Wesley reported. "Standard encrypted channels, payment through untraceable cryptocurrency. The contractor accepted the job and executed it flawlessly—more flawlessly than we anticipated, actually."
Fisk steepled his fingers, his mind working through the implications. "Because this was never meant to be a simple disruption contract."
"No, sir. The plan was considerably more complex."
Wesley was right. The warehouse operation had been an elaborate setup orchestrated by Fisk himself. He'd posted the anonymous contract knowing it would attract a mercenary looking for straightforward work—someone who would disrupt the drug transaction and then be eliminated by Fisk's backup teams before they could escape.
The plan had multiple layers: use the mercenary to justify the deaths of Anatoly Ranskahov and Kage, both of whom Fisk wanted removed for strategic reasons. Vladimir's resulting grief and rage would be directed at the mercenary rather than suspecting Fisk's involvement. Meanwhile, Fisk could position himself as a fellow victim while maneuvering to absorb both Kage's drug distribution network and portions of the Ranskahov transportation empire.
It was elegant, efficient, and completely deniable.
"The mercenary was supposed to die at the warehouse," Fisk said, his voice carrying the measured tone he used when analyzing failed operations. "Our cleanup teams were positioned to eliminate both him and any witnesses. Instead, he not only survived but escaped with the Punisher, eliminated our targets himself, and managed to evade Vladimir's entire organization."
"Additionally, sir, he inflicted significant casualties on Vladimir's forces during their pursuit. Early reports suggest twelve confirmed kills using apparently impossible marksmanship techniques."
Fisk leaned back in his chair, which creaked ominously under his weight. The plan that should have been a surgical strike had turned into a bloody spectacle that drew attention from multiple law enforcement agencies and left too many loose ends.
"Wesley," Fisk said finally, "inform Vladimir about the Punisher's identity. Let his hatred focus on a target he can actually find. Ensure the Punisher survives their encounter—we need Vladimir weakened, not victorious."
"And the anonymous mercenary?"
Fisk's expression hardened into something that would have made marble envious. "Find him. Use every resource we have, call in every favor, trace every possible connection. When you locate him..."
"Yes, sir?"
"Kill him. Immediately. Permanently. This individual has demonstrated capabilities that make him a threat to our long-term operations. I will not have some enhanced mercenary disrupting years of careful planning."
Wesley nodded, already mentally cataloging the resources they'd need to deploy. "Any particular method you prefer?"
"Something definitive," Fisk replied. "And Wesley? Make it clear to our people that this is a priority target. Whoever he is, he's just made the mistake of interfering with Wilson Fisk's business."
As Wesley left to coordinate the manhunt, Fisk returned to his window, studying the city that he'd spent decades learning to control.
One variable, he thought. One unaccounted-for factor in an otherwise perfect plan. But even enhanced individuals have weaknesses.
And Wilson Fisk specializes in finding weaknesses.