"In view of Mr. Norman Osborn's reckless decisions regarding the so-called 'super-soldier serum,' which have caused ongoing damage to the stock price…
"In light of the exposure of human experimentation on Sublevel B2 and the ensuing massacre on Sublevel B3, which have continually eroded the company's reputation…
"The Board believes he is no longer suitable to serve as Chairman and Chief Executive Officer of this company.
"It is hereby resolved that he be removed from all positions effective immediately."
Barely five minutes had passed between Valentin introducing Kingpin to Oscorp's board and Kingpin tabling the motion to vote Norman Osborn out.
No one had expected the seemingly rotund, affable Wilson Fisk to open by moving to oust Norman on the spot.
"Who exactly are you? I've never heard of you," asked Professor Curt Connors, the scientist–director, frowning. He and Norman were on decent terms; he couldn't not ask.
"I'm merely a spice merchant," Fisk replied pleasantly. "I simply believe that, for Oscorp to thrive, removing Norman Osborn is an essential step."
"And furthermore…"
Standing at the head of the table, Kingpin swept the room. "I hold sixty-seven percent of Oscorp's shares—absolute control. What I just said was a notification, not a request."
The room erupted.
Valentin exhaled—apparently he wasn't the only unlucky one strong-armed into selling; there were several others.
"I object—" Connors pushed up from the table on his one good arm.
At that moment—thud!—the conference room doors slammed open. Silver Sable strode in—silver-gray short hair, light suit—with a man in dark red sunglasses behind her: attorney Matt Murdock.
"Directors. I'm Matt Murdock, representing my client. We possess concrete evidence challenging the legality of Mr. Wilson Fisk's funding for these Oscorp share purchases…"
"On the strength of my client's evidence: Wilson Fisk is the notorious New York crime lord 'Kingpin.'"
"The funds used to acquire his shares derive from cigarette (**) trafficking, arms smuggling, and extortion/robbery."
Blind, Murdock faced Fisk as he spoke; with each word, Fisk's face darkened.
Arms folded, Silver Sable watched the performance with interest. She knew nothing of the law, but that didn't stop her from enjoying the show.
Smack! A document landed on the table.
"I have petitioned the court for a preliminary injunction freezing Mr. Wilson Fisk's currently contested holdings."
Which meant every dollar he'd spent buying stock had just gone up in smoke…
Worse, to showcase his "businessman's magnanimity," Fisk had bought at high prices while Oscorp's stock was falling!
He'd aimed to launder the bulk of his assets in one leap. Now a lawyer, a woman, and some mysterious client had blown it up.
Whoosh!
The warmth vanished from Fisk's face; the twisted mask he'd worn last night fighting ten masters at once returned. He seized the enormous conference table and flipped it.
Papers exploded into the air; the long wooden slab howled like a meteor toward Murdock and Sable.
"Move!"
Silver slipped aside, reaching to yank Murdock clear—only to see the blind man react even faster; the airborne table didn't touch him.
"Run—let the police handle him!" she shouted.
The directors bolted in a panic, leaving the room to Kingpin, Sable, and the lawyer.
Murdock started to go—he needed to ditch the suit and come back as Daredevil.
Across the room, Fisk's muscles bunched beneath his suit, threads straining. One thought filled his mind:
Kill him.
A single injunction had wrecked all his plans. He didn't know who was pulling strings, but he knew what he wanted: kill the lawyer and disappear.
He trusted his means. Even without Oscorp as a springboard, even without the cash he'd scraped out of Hell's Kitchen in a year or two—he'd rebuild.
No one could stop him.
He stamped forward.
Boom! The floor itself seemed to quake under the step. He barreled at Murdock, swinging a fist bigger than the man's head.
A breath of wind cut across the room. A figure in jet-black armor with two sharp ears and eyes cold enough to be inhuman stepped into his path.
Fisk's pupils pinpricked. His breath hitched; fists clenched so hard his whole body trembled.
That silhouette—he'd heard it muttered too many times lately, each mention stoking his hate.
Batman.
He'd wrecked Fisk's scheme to flood small crews with bad guns via Black Cat, then seize their turf amid the chaos.
He'd snatched Mac the Scorpion and Walker the driver–bodyguard, forcing Fisk to accelerate his boardroom coup.
And now he was here again, set to ruin Fisk's bid for absolute control of Oscorp—his coronation as emperor of New York's, and the world's, underworld.
Whether or not Batman had a hand in every setback, Fisk now saw him as the obstacle—old grudges and new, all at once.
Woooom!
His punch tore the air— a miniature cyclone in the conference room. He held nothing back. This was a strike that could drop world-class masters, shatter concrete walls, bend building steel—punch a hole through a man.
With this fist he could conquer every gang on earth—be their emperor.
"His heart rate hasn't quickened. Breathing steady. Posture radiates total confidence," Matt thought from cover, attuned to that familiar heartbeat. "Muscles firing inch by inch… He doesn't seem worried about losing."
Silver's hand twitched for a gun—but the suit she wore had none. She hooked a fallen chair with her toe, lifted it, and was about to wade in when Murdock grabbed her sleeve.
"Not necessary."
The next sound was like a shell detonating inside Oscorp Tower. Fisk's rage met Batman's guard—and the giant in the white suit rocketed backward, slammed the wall, and punched through it.
~~~
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