Seeing Iruka leave, Fisk reached into his coat and pulled out a thick envelope. Placing it on the table, he spoke with gravity. "Hayate, this is your final payment."
Hayate Shiranui picked up the envelope. Inside, he found a Swiss bank card with a PIN taped to the back.
"The card contains the remaining balance of the commission," Fisk explained. "Ten billion dollars, ready for immediate withdrawal."
Hayate smiled, sliding the card into his pocket. "If you ever have another request of this scale, feel free to contact me."
Fisk let out a booming laugh. "Hayate, even with my net worth, a twenty-billion-dollar commission isn't something I can afford to hand out often."
Hayate raised his glass from the table. "To a perfectly executed mission. Cheers."
Fisk and Bullseye followed suit, each taking a long sip of their whiskey.
Setting his glass down, Fisk looked Hayate in the eye. "Hayate, the Hand has been eradicated. I wonder... are you interested in their factory business? The blind labor operations?"
At the mention of Madam Gao's drug factories, Hayate shook his head without hesitation. "Fisk, you know me. I have no interest in those kinds of trades."
The refusal didn't surprise Fisk. He leaned forward. "Then what about Hell's Kitchen itself?"
As the words left his mouth, the air in the lounge seemed to freeze. Fisk watched Hayate's face intently, searching for any sign of ambition. He needed to know if this man intended to become a rival kingpin in his city.
Hayate leaned back, sinking into his chair. "Fisk, Hell's Kitchen does not interest me. It is chaotic and disordered. While your presence has made the gangs there show some restraint, it is still the most turbulent district in New York."
"Managing a mob is not my passion. If it were, my territory under the High Table would consist of much more than just America."
Relief washed over Fisk; he saw no trace of deception in Hayate's expression.
"However," Hayate added.
Fisk's heart, which had just begun to settle, tightened again.
"However, I may need several buildings in Hell's Kitchen. I am looking for something," Hayate continued. "When High Table personnel appear in the district, I hope you won't misunderstand."
Fisk smiled broadly. "Not a problem at all. Which buildings do you need? If they are under my name, I can simply gift them to you."
Hayate shook his head. "It might be one building, or it might be three. I'm not certain yet. But the current owners have nothing to do with you."
Seeing it wasn't his property being targeted, Fisk didn't push the offer. "Then I wish you luck in finding what belongs to you."
He raised his glass once more. Hayate joined him. "Thank you."
Once the glasses were drained, Fisk and Bullseye stood to take their leave. Hayate remained seated, watching them depart. He pulled out his phone and dialed.
"Hotaru, the funds have cleared. Begin the acquisition of the first abandoned building immediately."
"I want the purchase from the Rand Corporation handled with maximum speed, then begin excavation at once. If the first site doesn't yield what I need, pivot to the apartment complex immediately."
After giving his orders to his secretary, Hayate poured himself another drink. Just as he lifted the glass, Iruka appeared by his side.
"Lord Hayate, that agent from the FBI is here again."
"FBI?" Hayate was momentarily confused, then he remembered. "Ah, Phil Coulson from the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division."
"Iruka, clear those two glasses and bring him over."
"Yes, Lord Hayate." Iruka stepped forward, removing the empty glasses used by Fisk and Bullseye, then escorted Phil Coulson into the lounge.
Coulson sat in the chair Fisk had just vacated. Hayate raised his glass in a mock toast. "Care for a drink?"
Despite the polite gesture, Hayate didn't move to get him a glass.
"No, thank you, Mr. Shiranui. I don't drink while on duty."
Hayate took a sip of his whiskey. "Fair enough. What brings you here this time?"
Coulson wore his signature polite smile. "Mr. Shiranui, regarding your successful rescue of Tony Stark, there are some technical details I'd like to discuss with you."
Hayate countered with a question of his own. "Shouldn't you be talking to Tony Stark about that? As the protagonist of the event, he surely has more accurate information for you."
"Besides, I didn't think this fell under FBI jurisdiction."
Coulson pulled out a business card and slid it across the table. "I am Agent Coulson, with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division."
"We specialize in cases involving individuals like Tony Stark. We need to understand the specifics of the situation, and we'd appreciate your cooperation."
Hayate picked up the card, noting the unique seal on the back. "Don't you guys think your name is a bit of a mouthful? Have you considered simplifying it?"
Coulson smiled. "We're working on it. Perhaps by our next meeting, you'll see our new name."
"No, I'd prefer it if I didn't have to see you agents again," Hayate joked. "Last time you were FBI, now you're with this 'Division.' Did you get a promotion, or are you just making these up as you go?"
Coulson remained unfazed, though a hint of professional awkwardness touched his eyes. He laid his FBI credentials on the table as well. "Mr. Shiranui, our department is somewhat unique. We handle specialized cases and often utilize FBI resources for domestic operations."
Looking at the FBI badge, Hayate couldn't help but pity the real Bureau. The FBI really has it rough—everyone uses their name whenever they feel like it.