Untamed Revenge

Coca Farm, Niagara

The man dressed in a white tank top and jeans, a bandana pulled over his mouth and nose, pushed through the doors into the greenhouse, smoke wafting up from the burning coca plants, the UV lights flickering, causing the pungent mist to tint blue and then grey. Pushing through the fog, coughing and choking, the man unsheathed a machete that had been strapped to his leg before slipping on something on the floor. Cursing in his native tongue, the man raised a hand up to his face only to see blood drip from his fingers, the smell of viscera joining the smell of the burning coca. Looking down at his feet, he saw one of the coca pickers lying dead next to him, their guts ripped out of their chest cavity.

“Mardre dios!” The man swore as he looked down the aisle, which he had run down, littered with the eviscerated bodies of the workers. Springing to his feet, the man pivoted, peering through the fog to see who or what had killed the others. After making three pivots, he turned around and swore as he saw a humanoid figure standing in the smoke.

“I’m not afraid of you!” The man yelled as the figure in the fog cocked their head slightly before a burning pain erupted in his chest. Looking down, he saw that his own intestines were spilling out of his chest. In the two seconds he had taken his eyes off the figure, it had crossed the thirty metres to his location, causing him to panic when he looked up, falling backwards.

“You may not be, but your employer will be.” The figure stated as they bent down, flicked out a spur-like dagger, and slashed through the end of the intestine. “You will pay for those you killed, Mr. Fisk, and I... I am the knife that." The video footage paused, and the massive man placed the 80-pound medicine ball he was deadlifting down in the gym adjacent to his office.

“I deal with threats like this eight times a day; why should I take this one seriously, Mr. Brice?” The massive man stated as he walked to where the shorter man dressed in black cowboy leathers, complete with a stetson, stood.

“This one took out two farms down in Nicaragua; we found USB keys inserted in the intestinal cavity of the overseer.” Brice announced in a western drawl. “No one walked out alive save for our killer.”

“Let them come to New York; so few assassins get close to me, and those that do.” The massive man grunted as he picked up the medicine ball and threw it one-handedly at the screen, the glass shattering and the wall behind it caving slightly. “They will find that I am not a soft target.”

**

Parking Structure, Trenton, New Jersey

The four figures emerged from the darkness of the underground car park to where the woman dressed in a skin-tight red unitard, a red hooded cloak covering her face, and a long bone-handled scythe stood.

“You would be the arms dealer the Kingpin directed us to.” A bald man dressed in a lab coat gulped as he eyed the woman before turning to the figure standing next to him, a humanoid rat wearing a flat cap and a coat holding a teal box wrapped up with a purple bow. "Sir, the Hooded Haunt is here.”

“I can feel her power.” A deep voice boomed as the box twitched slightly, and a pair of glowing green eyes appeared on the lid of the box. “What have you got for sale?”

The woman in red smiled before slashing her scythe through the air, opening up a portal, and dragging two olive green crates with the words ‘Hagees and Rennselaer’ on the lid. “My late husband’s weapons: explosives and kinetic pulse staffs.” The Hooded Haunt hissed as she tapped one of the crates open with her scythe to reveal grey spherical explosives. “What have you brought me, ‘Satan in a Box’?”

“Homewrecker, show her the skull.” Satan in a Box ordered as a scantily clad woman removed a skull strung on a chain, a crystalline dagger stabbed into its cranium, from her waist. “The dagger of the fallen Bodhisattva.” It announced as Homewrecker handed the skull to the Hooded Haunt.

“Take the weapons and leave.” The Hooded Haunt hissed as her body folded in on itself into a red flash of light.

“Resentment, grab the cases; the Kingpin wants these weapons as soon as possible.” Satan in a Box as the hulkish figure lumbered forward and grabbed the two crates. As he did, the lights in the parking lot shut off, plunging the quintet into darkness.

“Has the Haunt crossed us?” Homewrecker asked as she removed a feather duster from her belt, a steel spike hidden behind the plumes.

“As soon as I get my night vision goggles on, I can restart the...” The scientist gulped before his scream echoed around the parking structure. Seconds later, the lights flicked on, and the four villains looked up to see the scientist hanging from the ceiling upside down, his head on the asphalt below.

“Dr Chia!” The humanoid rat gasped as he put Satan in a Box down and removed a pistol from his waistband.

“Resentment, cut him down; as long as we don’t lose his head, I can use my magic to bring him back to life.” Satan in the Box ordered as the hulking figure slammed the two crates down and stomped over to Dr. Chia’s body.

“Resentment at being muscle to inferior building.” Resentment grunted as he placed a hand around Dr. Chia’s head and threw it towards Homewrecker, the scantily clad woman flinching as it hit her in the chest. “Resentment at being asked to carry things surfacing.” He grunted as his skin began to tint a grey-green just as the lights went out, the glow emanating from him illuminating a figure dash past his silhouette.

“What was that?!” The rat-like figure asked as he tried to track the figure with his gun.

“Sharp ninja cuts Resentment!” Resentment yelled as the figure darted past again, slashing past, causing him to drop to one knee. “RESENTMENT BUILDS!!” He roared as he began to glow a brighter green, only to see the figure lunging towards his face.

“There it is!” The humanoid rat squeaked as he opened fire, the figure darting past Resentment, a blade cutting along the edge of his neck.

“Rat Bastard, no!” Satan in a Box yelled a little too late as a hail of bullets ripped through Resentment, the force causing his body to convulse and drop to the ground, his head rolling to where the box-themed wizard had been placed.

“He’s dead!” Rat Bastard gasped as Homewrecker screamed as her feather duster was ripped from her hand and stabbed into her skull, causing her to collapse to the ground.

“Rat Bastard, pick me up; we need to leave.” Satan in a Box ordered as the rat-themed humanoid reloaded his weapon and began to back away from the weapons, his dead teammates, and the box. “Rat Bastard, you coward!” The Box yelled his words, drowned out by the roar of gunfire that lasted two seconds, before the weapons fire fell silent. “Did you get him?”

The answer came a second later, as the body of Rat Bastard collapsed out of the darkness, followed by a pair of feet wearing golden thigh-high boots that came to a stop by Satan in a Box. “You killed them all!” The Box spat as the figure bent down and picked up Resentment’s head, dangling it over the lid of the box.

“Not all of them; I need you to make a delivery.” The figure stated as it removed a knife from its belt and placed the blade against the box.

**

Fisk Tower, Manhattan

Jackson Brice, AKA Montana, watched as the bleeding box was carried into the Kingpin’s office by the leader of the retrieval team, who had recovered the arms shipment and bodies of the Sadistic Siz, although their heads appeared to be missing.

“You were given a simple task: meet an arms dealer and return with the weapons. In return, I would pay you for doing your jobs.” The Kingpin, dressed in his white suit and black trousers, stated as he sat behind his desk, his fingers locked together.

“It wasn’t as simple as that; there was someone waiting for us.” Satan in a Box replied, blood spurting from the edge of the box. “We recovered the weapons, though; that should count for something, right?”

“I recovered the weapons; now tell him what you told me.” The man dressed in brown ballistic armour growled as he looked down at the box, his eyes covered with a pair of red sunglasses.

“The attacker wanted you to know they are here and that your organisations in this island city will be destroyed like your farms. When you’ve lost everything, the river will become a noose around your neck, and I will be standing at the gallows.” Satan in a Box gulped as it shuddered slightly, more blood oozing through the walls of the box.

“Did they give you a name?” The Kingpin asked as he got up from his chair and pushed his desk to one side before walking over to the man and the box, looming over both of them. As they did, Montana heard his PDA buzz before looking at the message that had been sent up by the armoury team.

“They called themselves the Golden Pheasant.” Satan in a Box bubbled as it looked up at the anger on the Kingpin’s face. “They said that when you see their face, you will remember them.” It groaned as the lid flipped open to reveal the heads of the other members of the Sadistic Six inside.

"Sir, we are four grenades short from the arms shipment.” Montana announced as the Kingpin took Satan in a Box and went to the window of his office. Looking into the box again, the Kingpin gritted his teeth before throwing Satan in a Box through the glass, the heads falling out, each with a grenade affixed to their mouths. Before they hit the ground, the grenades detonated, causing the glass to shatter all the way down the building.

“Sir, are you okay?” Montana asked as he walked over to the Kingpin, his suit ripped apart by the shower of exploding glass.

“Mr. Brice, send word to the heads of my operations; I will be sending powered agents to safeguard them from this Golden Pheasant.” The Kingpin ordered as he walked away from the window and went back to sitting at his desk. “Mr. Scolosis, I want you to inform my security team that I will need regular updates on the building status and everyone in it.”

**

Nest under demolished tenement building, Fisk Tower

The figure dressed in a golden tunic, with a pair of golden feathers in their dark hair, dropped down into the underground space and closed the hatch behind them. Taking off their mask, the woman sat down and pulled off her boots, revealing one fully formed foot and one where everything below the ankle had been eaten away.

Bowing her head slightly, the woman reached over for a cask, the only other thing in the space, and unscrewed the lid, pulling out a photograph.

“The Kingpin will pay for taking them from us.” The Golden Pheasant sighed as she placed the photograph down to reveal a pair of women wearing kimonos surrounded by three animals: a Shiba Inu with a damaged left ear, a Japanese macaque with a missing eye, and a golden pheasant with a missing foot. “He’ll pay for every single one of you.”

Pauper

"Spare a dollar sir?" a voice spoke meekly from the curb.

"Yes of course my good man." replied Fisk as he pulled out his wallet.

Fisk's two henchmen looked at each other in confusion. They were originally fleeing the building with great speed.

"Now let me see..." mumbled Kingpin as he flicked through his hundreds and fifties, "I don't seem to have a dollar. Do either of you guys have a dollar i could borrow for this poor man?" He asked his henchmen. They both shrugged and shook their heads.

"Well c'mon down to the Laundromat. I'm sure they can break a fifty there." said Kingpin and they strolled off together talking about how lovely the city is, with very confused henchmen in tow.

Spiderman swung in and knocked the heads of the two henchmen together, rendering them unconscious. "Now hold on Spiderman." said Kingpin, "I must get this poor fellow a dollar from the Laundromat.". Kingpin motioned toward the where the beggar had been only to find that he had disappeared. A web fixed to Fisk's briefcase pulling it toward Spiderman along with Fisk who was hand cuffed to it. Spidey grabbed the case and twisted around eight times until the still confounded Kingpin flipped over onto his back and the chain of the handcuffs snapped.

Spiderman was able to bind kingpin in enough web to secure him for his arrest. Sitting on the sidewalk in his silk cocoon Fisk said with frustration "I just wanted to give a man a dollar". He was still more focussed on that task than anything else.

I am Pauper. I used to be a very rich man in competition with Wilson Fisk, the Kingpin. The day before I was going to make my move and take over his company he killed my wife and children. I gave up that day. I fell into a catatonic state. I waited for death. It took days for death to come as I lay on my lounge room floor.

Suddenly I found myself in a beautiful place. Still lying down i saw my wife and my two children around me and they threw their arms around me. "Daddeee!" my daughter cried. Hey Dad! my son cried. Beautiful rainbow light surrounded them. My wife held on to me for a long time. I was happier than I had ever been while making money and power. It seemed like Id wasted my life.

Then appeared before me a giant. "I am Peter." he said. "I am sending you back. I give you the gift of 'Charitable Compulsion' you may compel any person to immediately give charitably within the bounds of their own generosity. In order to keep this gift you must take a vow of poverty. Goodbye."

"But my family..." I cried.

"You will see them again." Peter replied. And I awoke on my lounge room floor feeling strong and healthy. Until I remembered that I was all alone. I went to my bar and grabbed my most expensive bottle of scotch. As I went to pour it the voice of Peter vibrated through me. "You must take a vow of poverty. You will see them again.". So I decided to test these new powers of mine. I hoped it was real. I hoped I would see my family again.

In the street I stood thirty feet away from a beggar. I watched a man refuse to drop a coin in the beggar's cup. As the man approached me I told him to go and give the beggar a donation. The man didn't argue he didn't give bad attitude with his face. He just turned around and put a coin in the beggar's cup. I did this over and over all day and it never failed.

"I make this solemn oath. A vow before God.

I vow only to possess what is required for my daily needs.

I renounce all other temporal goods, visible, material and appreciable at a money value.

I renounce all other possessions and ownership.

This is my solemn oath, My vow before God."

After I spoke these words Father Paul Lantom blessed me and sent me out.

Then I made Wilson Fisk the focus of my mission.

Everyone forgets after I compel them. I disappear and no one ever knows what I have done.

The Kingpin: When Comes Retribution

Wilson Fisk stands in the middle of the room, waiting. He is surrounded by men all wearing gis. At the edge of the room stands one thin man in a black suit and glasses.

"Vanessa, adjust lights to ten percent, he says to his virtual assistant. Then to the man in the suit, "Wesley. Report," and that's when the men attack.

Pushing up his glasses with one finger, Wesley answers, "New York runs smoothly, of course."

Fisk swings a backfist to his left, knocking away one of his attackers. While another comes at him with nunchucks, his assistant continues.

"The Hand contingent that we contracted to distract Wolverine were taken out rather quickly. Faster than we anticipated actually. They all disintegrated of course."

"Of course," agrees the Kingpin as he catches the flailing nunchuck in midswing, and uses it to pull its wielder into his grip. The man kicks him in the thigh, but the crimelord doesn't even flinch. He shakes the man side-to-side by the neck, pulls the nunchucks out of his hand, and tosses them over his shoulder. Then he smacks the man across the face, rendering him unconscious, and tosses him aside into two more attackers. "Send the Hand my thanks, and our usual fee, along with compensation for the families of those men."

Wesley punches his phone a bit. "Taskmaster reports that the former Hydra agents he recruited are shaping up nicely. They should be ready to enter your service by the end of the month."

"I want men who will work for me," says Wilson as he kicks a man in the solar plexus. "Not just anyone. Send those men to Arcade."

"The current Madame Hydra is Arcade's daughter," says Wesley. "She'll kill them for their desertion."

"Yes," is the only answer as Kingpin grabs two men by the sides of their heads, and smashes them into each other.

Wesley makes a notation on his phone, then says, "Arcade reports that none of the Thieves Guild members that LeBeau sent to him survived his obstacle course."

The boss growls in frustration, punching a man across the room with a devastating right hook. "That maniac can't control his own murderous impulses. Send the Hydra men to him anyway, but then dump him. I'm paying him to train recruits, not kill them for his own amusement."

"Doctor Doom would like to schedule lunch with you at the Latverian Embassy next Tuesday."

Fisk stomps one foot forward, leaning into a punch that sends a man flying. "Push it to Thursday, and invite him to..."

"...The Hellfire Club?" suggests Wesley.

"No," he answers, punching another man. "Sebastian Shaw is a bore, and not to be trusted. Make it Chez Mis."

"Your usual table?" Wesley asks, his thumbs moving rapidly over his phone.

"The whole restaurant. Whatever Doom wants, no one needs to hear it but me."

"Very well. Chez Mis already confirms. They'd like to know a time."

"The whole day," says Fisk, sweeping his right leg in a wide arc, knocking two men away. "Let Victor pick the time he wants to meet, and I'll see him then. Tell their chef to prepare the lobster thermador. It's all he'll eat from there."

"Already done, sir."

"Excellent," says Fisk as he fells the last attacker. "Now for the Hand."

"Sir?" says Wesley, but then he spies the red-clad ninjas beginning to appear from the shadows.

Just as quickly as they appear, shots ring out, causing each of them to disintegrate. Wesley cowers, throwing his arms up as if to block his face. The Kingpin just glares in the direction of the shots, watching as a woman melts out of a dark corner, pointing a handgun in his direction.

"Who are you, and what do you want?" he asks her.

"Retribution," she says in answer to both questions.

Unnmoving from the center of the room, Wilson merely tilts his head, narrowing his eyes. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage. I don't know you."

"I'm the Vanisher's daughter," she answers.

"I was sorry to hear of his untimely passing," he offers, holding his hands in front of him slightly. "I couldn't understand why he didn't teleport before he hit those powerlines."

"Probably because he was stoned out of his mind," she says angrily.

"Ah, I see." Wilson rubs one wrist, then the other. "Unfortunate. Drugs destroy so many lives."

Retribution steps closer, but still out of reach. "Those drugs came from the South American cartel that you had him running!"

"My dear, I have no idea what you are talking about. I have no business dealings in South America."

"I suppose you don't send men to their deaths with Arcade, either?" she seeths.

Fisk's face turns visibly angrier, and he steps forward, but stops when the woman fires. He hears the bullet whiz by his cheek.

"You're going to pay, Fisk," says Retribution, backing into the corner. As she does so, her form begins to blend with the darkness. "I'm going to dismantle your organization piece-by-piece, if I have to kill every man working for you. And when you have nothing left, I'm coming back for you." With that, she backs further into the corner, and is completely swallowed by the darkness.

"Vanessa, turn on all lights, one hundred percent," he says in a calm tone. The room becomes fully illuminated, and there is no one standing in the corner.

Holding out his hand, Fisk says, "Towel please, Wesley."

Wesley hands his employer the towel, and looks around the room, making sure for himself that the woman is no longer there.

Wiping sweat from his face, chest and arms, Fisk asks, "Didn't we lose a couple of facilities in New Jersey and Connecticut last month?"

"Yes, sir." Punching his phone a bit more, he says, "Everyone at those locations were shot and killed. We assumed it was the Punisher."

"Get me more details. I want to know if it was her."

"I'll have an answer for you by the morning, sir."

"Put some people on every 'Porter' in the New York area. I want to know which one of them is Vanisher's daughter by the end of the week." He hands Wesley back the towel, and heads for his private entrance. "Hold my calls. I'll be in the steam room."

"And these men, sir?"

Fisk pauses to glance over his shoulder. "They were adequate. Send them to Taskmaster." Then he leaves the room.

END

Story and original characters © Chris Bishop, 2024. Marvel stuff ©Marvel Comics.

A Friend For A Fatman

"White Ant Man! White Ant Man! Does whatever a white ant can! Destroy your walls, kick your balls, look out! Here’s comes the White Ant, man!”

Wilson Fisk sat angrily tied to a chair as this lunatic in a white spandex suit and orangey-brown helmet poured some sort of accelerant around his office. Lying on the floor were his two bodyguards, who weren’t dead but would be when this all ended.

“I can see you glaring daggers with them little piggy eyes of yours,” White Ant laughed as he popped another bottle of turpentine. “Working out how you’d squash me like a bug, wondering how I got in here. That part I'll tell you...I’m a white ant, or if you’d like termite, they burrow in through the walls before you even know. I didn’t think The Termite struck fear into the hearts of bad guys, but running off the Spider, Ant, Wasp, Yellowjacket motifs that often frequent NYC...oh man, I’m monologing! You’ve probably slipped your cuffs.”

White Ant crossed Wilson Fisk’s luxury apartment, splashing turpentine as he went to see that the Kingpin of crime was securely fastened. White Ant looked Wilson in the end and then smacked him across the face. The slap was hard but the big man barely moved.

“This is why I tased and drugged you!” White Ant shook his hand in pain. “You are like a medicine ball. A big fat medicine ball. Now, can you work out why I’m going to burn down your apartment with you in it?”

Wilson Fisk just stared hatefully.

“You ruin people’s lives. Everything you touch or do; you leave a wake of destruction. And you don’t care because why would you, you’re a monster! You love power and money and cake!”

White Ant popped a knife out of his belt and began slashing up Wilson’s fine Corinthian leather lounge. He then poured another bottle of turpentine over the lounge.

“Sorry, got distracted. You’re a monster, you don’t think you’re a monster because somehow you can justify or compartmentalise all the wrong you do. Is that why your wife died?”

Wilson strained against the bonds, the ropes creaking and the chair squealing from the immense pressure. White Ant walked back over and hit him with the taser again which made the near 500-pound man convulse like a landed fish.

“That struck a nerve didn’t it. Your dead wife...boo hoo. Imagine being a ten-year-old waking up on his birthday finding out his dad died because of you!” White Ant stated as he tased him again. “My dad got his head caved in because of you, directly by you.”

White Ant stepped back and grabbed his helmet. “Take a good look Wilson...gaze upon the face of...” White Ant paused and burst into laughter. “Like I’d do that! This isn’t a comic book from the 60’s! You killed my dad; I’m going to ruin you. End of story.”

Wilson sucked in breath through the bandana in his mouth.

“I bet you don’t even recall who my dad was, do you?” White Ant shook his head in disgust. “Doesn’t really surprised me.”

White Ant tied some rope around Wilson’s feet and dragged him slowly to the lovely plexiglass windows. He then pulled out a glass cutter and traced a circle with an x in the centre of the glass before walking off to get something heavy which happened to be an urn.

“Oh wow, Richard Fisk,” White Ant whistled. “Dad? Son? Dog? Oh, you’re not talking to me...” He threw the urn at the glass and both items smashed, and a plume of grey powder hung about. Wilson again tried to break free but to no avail.

“Yeah, you’re going out the window. You’ll hang there until the rope burns or Spider-Man gets you. I really hope the Punisher finds you dangling and puts a bullet in you....”

-ANT-

White Ant paused as he looked around the room at the disembodied voice.

-ANT. YOU OKAY?-

White Ant quickly ran over to Kingpin and grabbed him by the collar. “You killed my dad, you fat sack of crap! You suck! You’re dead, you hear me, DEAD!”

-ANT!-

Anthony Altomonte blinked as he looked at the eulogy notes in front of him. He raised his head to see the dozens gathered for his father’s funeral. A tear welled in his eye, but he forced it back to a wet blink. The nineteen-year-old gripped the lectern like an eagle holds prey.

“My father, Dominic Alto...” He paused as there was a shift at the back of the church. Six or so people moved as in strode Wilson Fisk, flowers in hand, shades on his face. Anthony nearly vomited into his own mouth at the audacity of the man who killed his father. Dominic worked for the Kingpin, and something had happened a week prior and Dominic ended up in a ditch in the marshes out near the airport. The bruising on his face and neck was explained as he was hit by a truck, except they looked like bruises from a fat man who studied martial arts, and the fact that the marsh isn’t even near a goddam road.

Anthony exhaled slowly, tried to start but his gaze caught Wilson’s who’d take off his sunglasses to stare right at the young man. Anthony shook his head and shoved the lectern over before storming towards the back of the church in an angry charge. He got six pews before he was tackled to the ground by his uncle, George.

“Not now kid,” he whispered into Anthony’s ear. “I’m sorry, but not now.”

Anthony howled like a wounded animal and sobbed as the people stared. Wilson Fisk calmly put his sunglasses back on and left quietly.