Wilson Fisk, better known as Kingpin, stood silently in front of a canvas that seemed almost absurd at first glance. It was nothing but white—no shapes, no figures, no depth—just an endless field of pale emptiness stretching across the frame.
Behind him, Vanessa Mariana approached with calm, measured steps. Her voice was soft, almost reflective, as she spoke. "There used to be a joke children told," she said, her gaze drifting toward the painting. "They'd hold up a blank sheet of paper and ask, 'What is this?'"
Fisk didn't respond, his attention fixed on the canvas as if trying to extract meaning from the void. Vanessa smiled faintly, continuing anyway. "The answer was always the same," she said. "It's a bunny in a snowstorm."
She studied the massive man in front of her, curiosity flickering in her eyes as she tilted her head slightly. "What does it make you feel?" she asked.
Fisk's lips parted, his voice ready to form a response, but before he could speak, another voice cut cleanly through the quiet space behind them.
"Loneliness," Rex Viper said, his tone low and steady. "It makes me feel a kind of loneliness that doesn't have an end."
Fisk froze for a fraction of a second, the words catching him off guard. Whatever he had been about to say died in his throat as he slowly turned around.
The sight behind him made his expression shift instantly.
Dressed in black, his face hidden behind a demonic mask, Rex stood there like something that didn't belong in the polished calm of the gallery. His presence alone seemed to warp the air, dragging violence and danger into a place meant for quiet contemplation.
Fisk recovered quickly, his composure snapping back into place with practiced ease. He stepped forward slightly, placing himself between Rex and Vanessa without making it obvious. "The entire Hell's Kitchen is looking for you," he said calmly. "I didn't expect you to show up here."
Rex waved his hand dismissively. "Baldy, move aside," he said, his tone casual, almost bored.
Without waiting for a response, he stepped forward and gave Vanessa a slight, exaggerated bow. "Hello, distinguished lady," he said smoothly. "If I buy this painting, do you think you'd agree to have dinner with me tonight?"
Vanessa stiffened immediately, her body betraying the tension she tried to hide. The man in front of her wasn't just any visitor—he was a name whispered across the city, a killer whose reputation had spread like wildfire. Even standing there, speaking politely, there was something deeply unsettling about him.
"Mr. Devil Face," she said carefully, her voice tight despite her effort to remain composed, "if you like it, I can give you the painting."
Rex chuckled softly and took another step closer, his tone turning playful. "Honestly, I don't understand art at all," he admitted. "I just figured that if the artist is beautiful, then the painting must be beautiful too."
A flicker of confusion crossed Vanessa's face, her thoughts racing in ways she didn't expect. Was he… flirting? The absurdity of the situation clashed violently with the danger he represented, leaving her momentarily unsure how to react.
Before she could respond, Fisk stepped forward again, his patience finally wearing thin. "Mr. Devil Face," he said, his voice tightening slightly, "I've been wanting to meet you for a long time. How about we all have dinner together?"
Rex turned his head slowly, his masked gaze sliding over Fisk from top to bottom. "Bald monk," he said flatly, "what kind of food could you possibly offer me?"
A cruel smile spread across Fisk's face, his eyes darkening. "I've wanted to meet you for a long time," he repeated. "Give me a chance. We might even be able to work together."
Rex's voice carried a faint trace of amusement as he responded. "You run drugs, traffic people, burn and kill, kidnap, assault, and force women into prostitution," he said evenly. "What kind of deal do you think we could possibly make?"
The words hit like a hammer.
Fisk's face drained of color, his expression hardening as something dangerous surfaced beneath the surface. His voice dropped, rough and low. "Do you have any idea what you're doing?" he asked. "You're playing with fire."
Rex tilted his head slightly, as if considering the statement. "Really?" he replied. "Because it feels more like I'm playing with you."
The tension snapped.
"You want to die!" Fisk roared, his restraint shattering as he lunged forward with a heavy punch aimed straight at Rex.
Rex raised his hand to block, but the impact was far heavier than he expected. The force slammed into him like a battering ram, driving him backward several steps as he absorbed the shock.
Even with his enhanced strength, it wasn't enough to fully stop Fisk's raw power.
Rex adjusted instantly, his body shifting into motion as he relied on speed rather than brute force. The two clashed in the middle of the gallery, their movements sharp and controlled despite the intensity. Air whistled with each exchange, but both of them restrained their attacks just enough to avoid damaging the artwork around them.
Inside, Rex clicked his tongue in frustration.
A silver-level target wasn't going to be easy.
Fisk was exactly what his reputation suggested—a monster of muscle and power, capable of going toe-to-toe with heroes like Spider-Man. Intelligence aside, his physical strength alone made him a serious threat.
Fisk pressed forward relentlessly, each strike carrying crushing weight. Rex dodged more than he blocked, weaving through the attacks while keeping his distance.
"Oh, look at that," Rex called out mockingly, his voice echoing lightly through the gallery. "The respectable businessman finally showing his true colors. Here I thought you were a decent guy in a suit."
He slipped past another punch and glanced briefly toward Vanessa, who stood frozen in shock. Then he stepped back, widening the distance between himself and Fisk.
"Well," he said lightly, "since I'm not welcome, I'll come back another time."
His tone shifted just slightly as he turned his head toward Vanessa. "Miss Vanessa, I hope you'll say yes to dinner next time."
Fisk knew he couldn't stop him.
Grinding his teeth, he could only watch as Rex turned and walked away, his retreat as casual as his arrival.
The moment Rex disappeared, the tension collapsed into something colder.
Fisk stood there, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. He forced himself to calm down, turning toward Vanessa with the intention of apologizing.
But the moment their eyes almost met, she flinched.
It was subtle, but unmistakable.
She avoided his gaze as if she had been burned.
Something inside Fisk went cold.
The words he had prepared died in his throat, and after a long pause, he turned away without saying anything and left in silence.
Outside, the night air felt sharp and alive.
Rex walked through the streets with a faint grin, clearly in a good mood. Witnessing the private moment of the city's underground emperor had been unexpectedly entertaining, and for him, that alone made the trip worthwhile.
News of his appearance spread like wildfire.
Within minutes, police, gang enforcers, and hired killers flooded toward the gallery. By the time they arrived, however, both Rex and Fisk were already gone, leaving behind nothing but tension and unanswered questions.
The crowd eventually dispersed, but the impact lingered.
Fisk had just placed himself squarely in the sights of both S.H.I.E.L.D. and Daredevil.
The next morning, Rex acted as if none of it mattered.
Inside the church, he led a small group of believers in prayer, his expression calm and composed. David stood among them as well, blending in surprisingly well. For him, this routine had become a strange but effective way to release stress.
The quiet was broken suddenly when a boy—no older than twelve or thirteen—burst through the door.
"Father!" he shouted, rushing forward and grabbing Rex's hand tightly. "Something's wrong! My neighbor's sister is possessed by a demon!"
The room stirred instantly, people opening their eyes and gathering around.
"The girl next door went out last night," the boy continued breathlessly. "She came back this morning and locked herself inside. At first I thought she was just tired, but then she started screaming—her veins were bulging, and she was thrashing on the bed!"
David frowned slightly, his voice skeptical. "She lives next door to you. How do you know all this?"
"I saw through a hole in the wall," the boy said without hesitation. "We talk through it all the time. She's definitely possessed. Please, Father, you have to save her!"
Recognition flickered among the believers.
"Don't panic, Danny," one of them said reassuringly. "We'll help you."
"With Father Rex here, we're not afraid of any demon," another added confidently.
"God has blessed him," someone else said. "If anyone can save her, it's him."
Rex stood there, a stiff smile frozen on his face as their words piled up around him.
God?
Exorcism?
Inside, his thoughts were anything but calm.
In another world, he might have gone along with it without hesitation, whether it worked or not. But this was the Marvel Universe. Demons weren't myths here—they were real, powerful, and far beyond what he could comfortably handle right now.
Mephisto. Satanish. Lucifer. Asmodeus.
Even the weaker ones could be a nightmare.
David noticed the shift in his expression and quietly stepped closer. "What's wrong?" he asked. "You don't look great."
"I'm worried this might actually be a demon," Rex muttered under his breath.
David chuckled at first, but the sound died quickly. "Wait… you're serious?"
Rex shot him a look. "If God exists, why wouldn't demons?"
David paused, thinking it through, then frowned slightly. "Aren't you supposed to be… God's knight or something?"
Rex exhaled sharply. "Now you believe it?"
David's eyes widened. "I believed you before. Just… not completely."
Rex rubbed his temples. "God never taught me how to exorcise anything."
The boy's hopeful eyes and the believers' unwavering faith pressed in from all sides.
He had no way out.
"Fine," Rex said finally, forcing the words out.
With David in tow, he followed the boy to a run-down apartment building nearby. The place was old and worn, the kind of structure that creaked under its own weight.
They stopped in front of a closed door.
No sound came from inside.
Rex reached out, gripping the lock tightly as he took a steady breath. Heat surged into his hands, turning them faintly red as he applied pressure.
With a sharp crack, the lock gave way.
He pushed the door open slowly.
Inside, the room was quiet.
No demon.
Just a girl lying unconscious on the bed.
Rex let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and stepped forward to check on her condition.
Then, suddenly, a notification echoed in his mind.
[ Ding. Special race detected. Vampire bloodline unlocked. ]
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